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daydreamerwoah · 2 days

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Family Tree (Chapter 3)

Simon x Y/n <3

If you all read my "Bourbon" one shot, this chapter is somewhat based off that, but I changed some things to fit with the story.

After another week had passed, Colonel Williams and his team had finally completed all the necessary paperwork, and you were finally able to get the keys to your father's home. The awkward silence between you and him as he placed the keys in your hand made him rub the back of his neck. He was at a loss for words; you were as well. The two of you stood outside on the sidewalk, glancing up at the townhome. The brick exterior almost reminded you of the dingy apartment you had back in the States. It was old. And from the looks of the bay window that faced the street, you could make out a crack in the corner of it.

"Thanks, Colonel Williams," you smiled. Well attempted to through the furrowed eyebrows on your face.

"Course. Let me know if y'need anything yeah? Always a call away," he said, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. His small grin did nothing to ease your slight anxiety, but you accepted it nonetheless.

After he got in his car and left, you glanced back at the house for another moment before taking a deep breath and walking up to the front door. Placing the key into the lock, you slowly turned it to the left before hearing the click of the door unlocking. The moment you turned the handle and opened it, you were hit with the awful stale scent of a home that hadn't had a window open in months. The dark, long hallway made you feel like you were walking into the unknown - which technically you were. You had no clue what was going to be on the other side of the wall, but you had an idea as you got to the end of it. And that idea was unfortunately correct.

The living room - while seemingly a decent size - was filled with so much stuff. Books, clothes, hardware, and anything else you could think of were scattered all over the floor and chairs. The only thing you could make out a little was a pillow and blanket that laid on the couch, like your father had been sleeping there. You turned your head to the left, looking into the adjacent room and seeing a huge dining table that had more junk stacked on it. You walked closer to it and couldn't help the deep furrow of your eyebrows. Newspapers dating back from a couple of weeks to years were just there, along with documents that looked like past due bills. It made you somewhat cringe about what you'd find in the kitchen, but you swallowed the small lump in your throat as you continued walking toward the back of the house.

To your surprise, the kitchen was relatively clean. Only a few things, like canned goods and unopened tea bags, sat on the counters. More papers that seemed to be bills and letters also scattered along the countertops. When you opened the fridge, you were also a bit shocked to see the only thing that was in there was a shit ton of beer. What the hell had your father been doing? You could have taken a wild guess, but it seemed ridiculous; you didn't know the man. How were you going to judge someone you had never met before?

Once you had walked through the entire house, you found there were three bedrooms and a bathroom upstairs, all similar to how it looked on the ground floor; old, dusty, and semi-abandoned. It seemed that the man had spent the majority of his days and nights downstairs and would only use the bathroom when needed, as you saw his toothbrush and razor laying on the sink.

What the hell were you going to do with all of his stuff? After all, the house was now in your name, but you felt weird at knowing you were going to have to do something about it. Some children always took the low road of selling their parent's home,' taking the money, and moving on with their lives. But you didn't want that. Did you? You obviously packed up everything you had to move to England, so why would you sell something that was left to you?

"Shit," you sighed.

That entire weekend you spent cleaning out all of the clutter that was in the townhome. From the old newspapers to the canned goods, it was all dumped in the garbage can outside on the curb. You even picked up supplies to deep clean the kitchen and bathroom since you needed to use those areas the most. While you still had access to the hotel room that was paid for by Colonel Williams's team, you didn't want to keep bugging them for longer than you needed. Even though he reassured you it was okay. He even offered assistance to come help you with cleaning out the house, but you declined. While it definitely would have helped make things easier, you were just as stubborn as the man you never met. Not accepting help was something that was the norm for you.

As you were taking out another bag of trash to the curb that Sunday afternoon, a woman - probably in her late 60s if you guessed - walked out of the townhome that was next to your father's.

"Oh, hi dear," she greeted.

You softly smiled at her, "Hello."

"I thought I heard something going on over here this morning," she stood close to the fence that divided you two, "I'm Alice," she said, holding out her hand.

You sweetly took it, "Y/n."

"Lovely name," she smiled, "Did you just buy the home?"

You quickly glanced at the front door, wishing she wasn't asking you questions right now, before looking back at her. But it didn't really matter at that point, did it?

"Uh no no... it-it was my.. dad's."

Alice's eyebrows furrowed for a second before the shocked look ran across her face, "You're Charles's daughter?" You quickly nodded, "Oh my goodness dear. I'm so sorry for us to meet under the circumstances. Your father and I had been neighbors for over 20 years." She explained, giving you a sad smile, "If you need anything. Or just want to come over for tea, I'm always home. Me and Misty don't often get visitors." You wanted to ask who was Misty, but before you could, you heard the low sound of a meow down by Alice's feet. You looked and saw an orange and fluffy cat glancing up at you, its tail flicking side to side slowly. Alice looked down and giggled at the animal, "She's a big fuss, but she's friendly."

You smiled when another meow came from the cat before Alice bid you farewell and walked back into her home, letting you go back to cleaning. Looking around the living room, you still had a lot to do, but at least for now, you had made some progress.

************************************************************************************

"Okay. Make sure you don't get the stitches wet for a week. Come back when they're ready to be taken out, alright?" You told the young patient, who had taken a nasty fall while skateboarding. Her mother, while a bit worried, thanked you before they walked out of the room.

So far, the week had been pretty easy.. at least at work. Every day after your shifts, you would stay up at least until a little after midnight, cleaning out and organizing the house. It was now Wednesday, and exhaustion felt like it was about to hit you the moment you clocked out.

As you typed up your notes on the computer, Ella's cheerful voice popped up beside you as she sat down in the seat, "Soo.... what're you doing after work?" she smiled.

You glanced at her, slightly giggling at her question before focusing back on the monitor in front of you, "Ella-"

"Oh come on! You don't even know what I'm gonna say."

You couldn't help but side-eye her, making that sly smirk of hers turn into a huge grin, "Okay... humor me. What were you going to say?"

She tried her best not to laugh, but it was obvious as she pouted, "We can go get drinks.... and food?" she asked.

That made a chuckle bubble up your throat. Usually, she always asked you to go for drinks, but maybe she thought adding the food part was such a huge difference. Yet, you couldn't help but consider finally giving the girl a chance to have a drink with you. Maybe then she'd stop asking you constantly about it if you went at least once.

Sighing, you turned and looked at her again, "Okay fine."

The squeal that left her lips made you laugh, "Yes yes yes! I promise it'll be fun yeah?" she exclaimed before grabbing a paper chart to head and see her next patient. When she got down the hallway, she turned around facing you, "You can't back out!" she shouted.

Shaking your head, you smiled and continued to type up your notes before seeing your next patient.

Ella left 15 minutes before you did, and she made sure you were still coming before she left. You promised you would be there, but as you walked out of the hospital and got on the bus, you almost regretted agreeing to go out. It wasn't that you didn't enjoy her or anything, but the thought of being out when you really wanted to just go to sleep sort of made your head hurt.

One drink. That's all you'd have, and then probably tell her you were tired and were going to head home.

When you walked into the pub, the scent of beer and greasy bar food filled the place with its aroma. It made your stomach slightly growl since you hadn't eaten since lunch and that was barely a real lunch - chips and a bottle of water.

"Y/n!" Ella's voice yelled out as she stood up from her seat in a booth off to the side. You glanced her way and smiled, walking towards the booth and sliding in. "You made it!"

You giggled and playfully rolled your eyes, "I told you I was coming."

"I know.. but- I thought you'd change your mind or something," she said as she pouted.

Did you really give off the impression that you would go back on your word? Maybe. It was obvious that Ella didn't know anything about you, but you felt a twinge of guilt run through you as you looked at her.

"I like keeping my word," you said before a knowing grin spread across your lips, "Besides... you were going to ask me until I eventually said yes," you teased, making her laugh.

"Oh shut it," she said before a waitress came over to the table and took your drink orders. You also got an appetizer to share.

It was odd. Well no.. good. Ella was a sweet person, and the more you got to know her, the more you realized you and her could be friends. Even with you dodging a lot of the questions she asked. Anything about family was an immediate "they're all back in the States" except for the one you moved over to England for. When she asked if it was a cousin or something, you just said no before switching topics. But she wasn't stupid... you dodged those questions like it would kill you if you answered them. It was a difficult subject - that she was certain of - so instead of pressuring you, she followed your lead. Surprisingly, you two had a lot in common - music, food, even some of the books you liked to read. The only difference you two seemed to have was the type of alcohol you liked. While she settled for vodka, you fancied a bourbon over anything.

"Reminds me of one of my boyfriend's friends. He loves bourbon," she giggled.

"Sounds like he's got good taste then," you joked.

A full laugh escaped her mouth as she pulled out her phone, "Speaking of boyfriend. I'm gonna see if he wants to join us. Maybe you can meet him," she said, typing away on her phone. By that point, you were two drinks in, and somehow, the sleepiness that once plagued you vanished. Maybe it was because of the distraction of getting to know Ella. Or maybe it was because you had some food in your system. But either way, you didn't mind meeting the boyfriend she always talked about so lovingly. She glanced up at you and then back to the phone before setting it on the table, "You alright with him bringing his friends? They had a shit day at the range, so they're all needing a drink apparently," she giggled.

Meeting more people? You internally cringed, "Maybe I'll head out. Let you guys chill-"

She instantly cut you off, "Oh come on. You don't have to leave. I know they wouldn't mind. Plus you have to meet Kyle anyway," she tried convincing you.

You couldn't help but slightly groan. Looking down at your attire - nurse scrubs that had a tiny stain from the food that dropped on your top - you shook your head, "I'm not dressed to be meeting anyone, Ella."

She all but barked out a loud laugh, "Look at me. I promise you they won't care about that. They're really cool. Probably gonna come in here with dirt on their clothes from being outside most of the day, so we'll all look tired," she joked.

A sigh left your mouth, "Fine fine... geez you know how to convince me now that we had two drinks together," you teased.

"We're so gonna be besties," she beamed, making you playfully roll your eyes.

"I'm heading to the restroom," you said, standing up before making your way to the back of the pub. At least you'd try to look half-decent and fix your hair a bit.

They're about to meet... cue the awkwardness lmao!

Taglist: @simp-4-masked-men @dayrin085 @jessicab1991 @kylies-love-letter @kalypsoox @brownlee-22 @firefoxkairan

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moeswriting · 13 hours

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mine | 3. we'll never make my parents mistakes

pairing: young!no-outbreak!joel miller x f!reader

chapter summary: you and joel are finding things out about each other’s pasts and figuring out how to deal with your presents,

or meeting sarah miller and the after effects

warnings: THIS CHAPTER EXPLORES SOME VERY DARK THINGS BUT IS ALSO VERY SOFT, READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION AND PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS; discussion of maternal suicide/postpartum depression, alcoholism, and parental neglect (reader); joel is 22 and reader is 20; reader is described a small amount (has hair, able-bodied, wears feminine clothing, is going to school for secondary english education, has a heavily-detailed background); joel being The Single Dad™; character joins the army, conversation about a dead father and general daddy issues for the Miller brothers, including military PTSD and fraternal death from lung cancer; tommy being a little shit; HEY THESE TWO IDIOTS HAVE SEX!!! (not explicit)

word count: 11.5k

a/n: happy late birthday to my favorite fictional boy, have some trauma <3 this has been a long time coming (u see what i did there? ;) ). to all who have been begging me for the next chapter in my inbox, this is for you <3 . again, just wanna say: please read the warnings on this chapter. i am not usually a “traumatize my characters” kind of writer, but i was feeling feral while writing this over the past few weeks and it kind of just happened… so be warned. (i’m sorry in advance)

series masterlist | last chapter -> | next chapter ->

read this chapter on ao3

Flash forward, and we're takin' on the world together

And there's a drawer of my things at your place

You learn my secrets and you figure out why I'm guarded

You say we'll never make my parents' mistakes

✦ ✦ ✦

November 1994

It’s a couple days later. A Tuesday. Arguably the worst day of the week and a day that he’s been dreading since the text had graced his flip phone that night.

“... we need to talk”??

It sent shivers down his spine, made him want to run and hide, and never leave his apartment again. Talking wasn’t really Joel’s strong suit– sure, he could sweet talk Mrs. Nelson into giving him a better tip, but talking about how he felt? God, it was like dragging his toddler around a store when she wanted to go home– frustrating and near-impossible.

You’d texted him afterwards, making plans to meet at the diner when his shift was almost over to talk. But the past two days had been an absolute blur.

Sarah had noticed her dad’s change in demeanor and had decided to follow him into it, nonstop crying and small fists banging on the floor and his chest and anything she could take her anger out on. It made sleeping borderline impossible. He has had to sit in her small bed with her laying on his chest until she wore herself out the past two nights.

But here he is, at his usual Tuesday shift just after the lunch crowd has dispersed and he’s hiding in the kitchen while Don gives him a lecture about something that he’s honestly not listening to. He does, however, catch the sound of the bell ringing as someone walks into the diner and then he hears your cheery voice as you speak to someone.

“Go out there, there’s a customer,” Don says as he cleans the grill.

“I–” He cuts himself off. He doesn’t want Don to know about what’s about to happen.

The burly man looks up at him, nearly a foot shorter than him and he still scares the crap out of him sometimes, “It’s your girl, isn’t it?”

Joel clears his throat and sighs, “Yeah.”

“You two been fighting?”

He shakes his head.

Don slices his hand through the air as if to push Joel’s gesture aside. “Bullshit. I can tell.”

“Wha–”

“You been actin’ different. I’ve known you almost four years, Miller. I could tell when you started datin’ her and I could tell yesterday when you came into work that something was wrong.”

Damn Don and his out-of-character perceptiveness.

“Go face her, Miller.” He nods once, a finality to it.

“I-”

“Get out of my kitchen, you coward!”

He pushes him out of the swinging doors and into the dining area. When he sees you, he freezes.

✦ ✦ ✦

You arrive at the diner at three and sit in your usual spot by the window that no one else likes but you. It’s bright. You think maybe that’s why no one likes it, but you adore the way the reflected light warms you down to your toes. It’s quiet– weirdly quiet, like even the building itself is getting ready in anticipation for whatever is about to happen. The only other patron is Mr. Cassini sitting in a corner with a cup of coffee cradled in his trembling hands. You wonder where Doreen is.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Cassini,” you yell across the diner.

His face lights up, like it always does when he sees you, “Hello, dear! How are you doin’?”

“Oh, I’m doing as good as I can. How about you?”

“Oh darlin’, I’m doing amazing. Best I’ve felt in years.”

You smile at him, “That’s amazing, Mr. Cassini.”

“Oh, look at me talkin’ you up when you probably have work to do. I’ll let you get to your studying.”

You huff, “Thanks, Mr. Cassini.”

You can hear clattering coming from the kitchen. You suppose that’s where Joel is, or where he’s hiding. You’d tried to get a grasp on how Joel was feeling about all of this when you had been texting him to make the plans to meet here after his shift. Text messages aren’t very good at communicating emotion, but you couldn’t get yourself to call him– face him.

“Get out of my kitchen, you coward,” you hear Don yell in his obnoxiously loud way, a deep chortle following Joel as he exits the swinging doors.

He freezes like a statue, eyes wide and brows raised. Tired is the word that comes to mind– he so obviously hasn’t slept right in days. Bags under his eyes, shoulders slouched, skin paler than his usual tan glow. Maybe he’d seen a ghost.

He looks at you with his evaluating stare. You always wonder what Joel sees when he does this. Does he know how terrified you are?

Turning around, he points a finger towards the counter and grabs a clean glass from the cabinet behind him. You sigh, sling your backpack over your shoulder, and get up to go sit where Joel directed you to. He likes it when you’re closer to him while you visit him at work, especially if it’s slow and he’s bored, but when you need to study or do homework, you sit at the booth by the window– less distractions, you tell him. Really, you just know you won’t get any work done if you have easy access to him and you like the noise of the diner while you’re studying.

He doesn’t turn back towards you until you’re already settled in the tall stool, backpack precariously balanced on the seat next to you. Sliding the glass across the counter towards you, now full of iced tea exactly how you like it, he sighs.

“Hey, sugar.”

His nervousness surrounds him– hand pulling through his sweaty, messy hair, lidded eyes darting around the diner in an effort to find something to distract himself with, teeth worrying his bleeding lower lip between them.

“Hey,” you breathe out. In a way, his nerves comfort you– you’re not the only one.

“I got another few minutes before Don will let me out.”

“I know, Joel,” you mutter.

“Gotta wait for Dorreen to come back from her smoke break too.”

“Okay,” you whisper.

He leans on the counter, facing you, “I’m nervous.”

You give him a soft smile, “Me too.”

“Good. Good.” He nods to himself, pushing a straw towards you from the apron around his waist.

“Miller! I need more coffee,” Mr. Cassini’s gravely voice echoes through the empty diner, making Joel jump up from his position on the counter.

“One second, Mr. Cassini–” he holds up a finger directed at you– “I’ll be right back. Gotta do a couple things before I leave.”

You know. You nod.

You pull a book out of your bag, The Secret Garden, desperate to avoid the awkwardness of the quiet. You absorb yourself in the story of Mary as she explores the hidden garden her new caretaker’s late wife once walked, dead and gray. It’s the millionth time you’ve read it– page corners bent and the spine cracked in multiple places. The pages are a dark yellow, almost matching the deep color of the faded cover. On the front page, the name Virginia swirls in a beautiful cursive right above your own name in your not-so-delicate print. The ink of her fountain pen is a deeper black than the one of your ball-point, faded by the twelve years it had sat on the page.

A hand pops into your field of vision and taps on the page of your book, “Ready to go.”

You hum and stash the book into your bag, between your hardback textbooks so it gets better protection from the mess that is your bookbag.

You watch Joel pull his apron off and stuff it under the counter, exposing the parts of his jeans that have gone untouched by the mess of his shift. The square outline around his crotch almost makes you giggle, but you bite your lip to suppress it.

He comes around the counter and, without looking in your direction, pushes open the front door. Following behind him like a puppy, you quickly do the same, throwing your backpack over your shoulder.

He stops suddenly, turning around, looking for guidance.

You sigh, “Let me walk you home.”

“No–”

“What direction is it?”

He looks you up and down, a habit you guess he learned from trying to determine if he needed to make Tommy back down from a fight or not. His hesitation is so blatant, bringing his hand up once, twice, before he points in the opposite direction from the route he takes to walk you back to your dorm. Of course, he was going out of his way to bring you home. That is the most Joel thing you could think of.

“Let’s go.”

You start to walk, determined steps taking you down the street. You turn to look at Joel over your shoulder and he hasn’t moved an inch. Your footsteps falter.

“Really?”

He huffs out a breath, “I– I just–”

You shrug your arms up, exasperated, and slap them back against your sides, “What, Joel?”

“I don’t… I’m not ready to do this yet.”

What?

You furrow your brows and squint in his direction through the waning sunlight.

“What in the world are you talking about?”

He runs a hand through his curly, sweaty hair, sucks in a large breath, and slurs his words together in one long exhale, “I’m not ready for you to meet her yet.”

Oh. Oh.

“Joel, that’s not– that’s not what I was trying to do. I just wanted to walk you home.”

Now that he’s admitted his secret to you, that other part of him no longer hidden, everything about him is so obviously catered to a four-year-old. His expressions are controlled, but also so kind and open, like he’s keeping his real feelings at bay but wants to make sure you know that you can tell him anything and he’ll listen. His shoulders are hunched over from hard work, but he never falters, he always shows up for you, for Sarah. He’s nervous in everything he does, whether he shows it or not, but he would do anything to make sure his friends and family get whatever they need. He’d fight a bull for you if you asked him to. He’d tear the earth in two for his baby, you can tell.

This is the same Joel you’ve come to like. He hasn’t changed into a whole new person just because you learned he’s a father. He was a father the whole time you’ve known him, which is weird to think about. What else didn’t you know about him?

You continue, dragging your feet back to him, “I would never, ever try to force you into anything– especially when it comes to your daughter. I have no right to demand anything.”

“I do want you to meet ‘er.”

“I want to meet her too.”

“Someday. I jus’… not now. I need to make sure we– I wanna make sure we’ll last before I introduce someone else into her life.”

“And I agree with you.”

“Good.”

“Yup.” You kick a rock in front of you.

You both stare at each other, waiting to see who will break the silence first.

Joel tilts his head in the direction he had originally pointed in, “Can we go somewhere to talk?”

You nod.

The two of you walk in silence to a park down the road. You wonder if his apartment is near.

There are a few benches scattered around the park, surrounded by flowers and shrubs alike. A playground is busy with children as they scream and chase after each other with smiles on their faces.

He flops down on a bench facing a water fountain, far enough from the kids that you’re pretty sure they won’t hear you.

You sigh, pressing your palms into your eyes as you join him, small flakes of wood on the old bench press into the backs of your thighs.

“I’m upset that you didn’t tell me right away– I just want you to know that.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

Apologizing is good. An explanation would be better.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

He crosses his arms, staring out at the glaring sun, “‘Cause I didn’ want you to run.”

You scoff and scuff the concrete beneath you with your sneaker in emphasis, “What makes you think I would’ve run?”

His eyes dart over to you. He gives you a look that screams, “Are you seriously asking me that?” Eyebrows furrowed and nose scrunched.

“‘Could tell you were nervous when I first met ya. And I knew you were young and in college and most college-aged girls aren’t interested in gettin’ in a relationship with a dad.”

“Oh, I know for a fact that that is not true,” you huff, mirroring his position– slouched, arms crossed. You knew plenty of women your age who would love the stability and the experience– knew Elaine had had a few chance encounters with DILFs she had met at the bar. She claimed it was some of the best sex she’d ever had.

He scoffs, “Whatever, you know what I mean.”

You roll your eyes, “Yeah, I do.”

Rubbing his hands together, he continues.

“I wasn’t tryin’ to keep her from you forever. I was always going to tell you.”

You flatten your lips into a line. “Yeah, well, it would’ve been nice to know from the get-go.”

He’s looking you in the eye again with a genuinity and softness and places a hand on your thigh. “I’m sorry. I don’t think I’ll stop apologizing for that for a long time. I just– it seemed like the right thing to do at the time.”

You sigh, placing your hand on top of his, a smirk starting to take over your lips, “I’m not going to say it’s okay, but I might be willing to forgive you.”

His eyebrows quirk up, “Might be?”

You fix your posture, now sitting taller than him, and look down into his pretty eyes, “You take me out again and I might be willing to look past this indiscretion.”

He opens his mouth to speak again, but you interrupt before he gets the chance, pointing a defiant finger in his face– “But–! You have to promise me you won’t keep shit from me anymore. We gotta lay it all on the table. I’m not going to do this with you unless you’re honest with me.”

He nods, “I think I can do that– both of those.”

You nod, “Good, I’m glad we’re on the same page.”

He fixes his slouch so that he’s level with you again, his hand never leaving the comfort of your own.

“But, y’know that means you have to be honest with me too.”

You furrow your eyebrows.

Turning his hand so your palms face each other, he laces your fingers together and squeezes. “I know you’re hiding stuff from me too. Big stuff.”

You hum.

“Why won’t you talk about your family?”

Well, shit.

You sigh, squeezing your eyes shut, “Oh.”

“Yeah, ‘oh’... but we don’t have to do this right now.” His eyes are wide with fear, scared he might have pushed you too hard. Maybe he has. But, it’s weird, for the first time in your entire life, you want to share things about your past.

“No, it’s okay. Might as well,” you reply, taking your hand out of his and rubbing your eyes aggressively with your palms.

Without looking up at him, you start, “I– I don’t really have much family. It’s just pretty much been me and my dad since I can remember.”

“You said your dad lives back in Seattle, right?”

“Yeah. He uh– he isn’t my favorite person. That’s why– that’s why I don’t talk about him.”

He doesn’t say anything, giving you time to think about what you’re going to say next.

“My mom died a couple weeks after she gave birth to me. She– she, uh–”

It’s hard to spit it out. To talk about it. Only a few people knew about what really happened– the rest all just knew she was dead. But you know that Joel should know– know why this is so hard for you.

“She had postpartum depression really, really bad. Couldn’t get out of bed, couldn’t shower, couldn’t eat, couldn’t feed me or hold me or look at me– Dad says she was like a statue, like a ghost of herself.”

You can’t get yourself to look at him– can feel the guilt running down your spine and into your bone marrow like it always does when you think of her. You hide your face behind your hands, elbows leaning on your legs.

“She had been so excited. They both were. Just out of college and newlyweds– dad says her pregnancy was the best year of their relationship.”

You gear yourself up for what you’re about to say. You’ve only ever told one person about this before: Elaine, and that was after a year of friendship. You’ve only known Joel for a little over a month. But, you want to tell him– need to tell him.

“But she– she killed herself. Didn’t leave a note or anything, she was just… gone.”

You can’t see his face, don’t want to. You’ve seen enough sympathetic eyes to last a lifetime of grief. “Oh, sugar…”

You shake your head in your hands– you’re not done yet. “Dad was pretty much gone after that. I never remember a time when he was ‘there’, but my grandmother said he used to be different– ‘more alive’.

“I knew he blamed me before he ever said it. He’d drop me off at my grandmother’s house and disappear for days and when she died and that wasn’t an option anymore, he would just leave me at the house with a ten dollar bill for food for a couple days at a time.”

He scoffs, like your father could hear his anger from here. “That’s not fair–”

You cut him off, you don’t want to hear one more person say your life isn’t fair, “And when he was home, he was angry all the time. He has his good days, but he– he’s not my favorite person.

“So, that’s why I was scared when you told me about Sarah,” you continue, “Because I– I don’t exactly have a good track record with the whole ‘family’ thing. And I don’t… I don’t really know anything about being a… maternal figure.”

You can’t say “mom”. Can’t think it.

It takes a moment of stunned silence for Joel to reply, but when he does, he lays a hand on your shoulder, “Baby, I… I wasn’t askin’ for you to jump into being a mother. I wasn’t… I wasn’t even asking you to be a mother at all. I just wanted you to know my priorities, because if this relationship is gonna continue, you have to have a relationship with my daughter.”

“I know.”

“But, I understand now. Thank you for tellin’ me about your mom.”

You sigh, closing your eyes and leaning your head back on the bench, “Thank you for listening and being patient with me.”

You can feel him looking at you, hear the smile in his words. “I’d wait forever for you, sugar.”

Your cheeks heat up, eyes wide open, and turn to him. The look in his irises tells you that he’s being completely genuine.

“Anyways, I gotta go. I’m not tryin’ to get away from you or this conversation, but my momma has to get home.”

You nod your acknowledgement, standing up. He holds a hand out for you to take and you pull him up from the bench, but you don’t let go– you guide him towards the exit of the park and then he takes the reins from there, leading you in the direction of his apartment.

“Your mom watch her when you’re at work?”

“Yeah, Tommy does too sometimes when he’s not gettin’ his ass beat in alleyways after school,” he rolls his eyes.

You huff out a breath of amusement, “Well, that’s very kind of them.”

You squeeze his hand. It’s calloused from hard work and dry from the hot Texas weather. His larger fingers engulf yours.

“Tell me about her.”

He starts to shake his head, “Oh, we don’t–”

“No, no, I want to know about her.”

He��ll always take an opportunity to brag about his baby girl.

In the few minutes walk, he tells you about Sarah. How she turns five in July. How she smiles with her teeth, showing off her two front teeth that they just pulled. How he very unsuccessfully pulled a Tooth Fairy heist, which resulted in him having to admit to his daughter that the Tooth Fairy wasn’t real. How she looks just like her mom, but is just so beautifully unique in her own way. How her hair never cooperates with him, so he has to take her to the salon down the street so they can braid her hair. How she likes pink the most and requests the same pink butterfly hair clips every morning despite the large collection of hair accessories she’s amassed. How he loves her with everything in him.

You arrive at your destination, or at least you think so, as you approach a small bakery and Joel takes out his key.

“I rent the apartment above the bakery from the owner. She has a house with kids and a husband so she doesn’t need to stay here, and she’s an old family friend, so she lets Sarah and I stay up here for fairly cheap.”

You smile, “That’s very kind.”

“Yes, but she loves to come visit way more than she’s actually welcomed. She likes Sarah a lot, I mean, most people do because she’s a great kid, but y’know…”

He suddenly perks up, holding his hands up in a “stop” motion.

“Wait– stay here.”

You watch him run up the stairs two at a time, before the door closes behind him. You stay in your spot.

He comes back down the stairs with his seashell in his hand– the gray one with the brown stripes, the one he had so proudly presented to you two days ago on the beach. The one he told you was simple, didn’t need to be flashy to get the job done. The one that was so obviously him that it hurt to think about the last couple of days of avoiding him, of the time wasted.

You cradle it in your palms and look up at him through your eyelashes.

“I’m sorry,” you mutter.

“For what, sugar?”

“For making you think I didn’t want you.”

He sighs, grabbing your wrists and pulling you into his chest, wrapping his arms around your shoulders.

“Don’t be sorry– wasn’t your fault. I got lots of things to work on, and so do you. We jus’ need to communicate better, like you said.”

You nuzzle your head into his chest. He smells like leather and freshly-cut wood.

He feels like home.

“Yeah, we do.”

✦ ✦ ✦

December 1994

It’s the middle of December when your 21st birthday rolls around.

Elaine throws a party in the basement of your dorm building, approved by your RA as a “floor event” for the end of the semester (which in a way isn’t a lie because most of your dorm floor is there anyways) the day before your birthday. You had convinced Joel to come too, all of your friends swooning over him and winking at you when you introduced them to him. He’s blushing the entire night.

But on your actual birthday, Joel takes you to his apartment for the first time, dropping Sarah off at his mom’s house for the night.

When you first walked in, you think that even if you hadn’t known this was Joel’s apartment, that you could’ve easily picked it out in a lineup. The ceilings are vaulted, popcorn textured walls that are painted an off-white that makes the space look larger than it is, a kitchen off to the right and a bedroom door straight ahead. There’s a painting of horses that Joel has described to you before above the mantle in the living room, it was his dad’s. You can tell he’s cleaned up, because all of the pink toys that he told you were usually scattered all over the floor for him to stub his toe on, which he did constantly, are neatly piled in a basket in the corner of the room. The couch is old, sagging in the middle, but it looks comfortable because of all of the quilts thrown all over the back.

After a dinner of your favorite food, which Joel painstakingly made to perfection, he guides you to the living room couch and hands you a present.

It’s a big cardboard box with a purple bow stuck on top. Before you can even think about opening it, he takes the bow off and puts it on top of your head.

“It’s for your birthday and Christmas ‘cause it’s a pretty expensive gift, and y’know I don’t make a whole lot at the diner, but I think it was worth it.”

You open the box with a smile and what sits waiting for you is a pair of cowboy boots. And they are beautiful.

They’re made of a thick leather that feels smooth beneath your fingers as you pick them up and cradle one of them in your hands. It’s heavy in your grip, sturdy and obviously well-made– stitches tight and leather buffed. The sides are a light purple with white sprigs of lavender stitched into the leather.

“They’re work boots, so they're steel-toed and waterproof. I treated the leather already, but you can bring ‘em to me every couple months and I’ll do it again. Figure that you needed shoes that weren’t your half-destroyed Converse and I love my boots, so I thought, you know, maybe you’d like a pair too,” he chuckles stiffly, carding a hand through his hair.

You’re speechless, to the point that you can’t even point out that he had implied a future two months from now where you’re still dating. There’s about a hundred words you want to say to him, but none of them seem good enough.

Gently placing the boot back in the box and on the floor, you stand up and move in front of Joel and in-between his thighs. He’s looking up at you with wide eyes and you want to devour him whole.

“What’re you doin’, sugar?”

You climb into his lap and smirk down at him, “Lookin’ at ya.”

He grabs the outsides of your thighs and squeezes them, “Oh, really?”

“Yup,” you pop the ‘p’ with a smirk, throwing your arms around his neck. Pushing yourself further into his lap, your nose brushes against his.

If someone asked you what your favorite thing about Joel was, you would tell them that it’s his eyes. Those defined crows feet that kiss the corners of his gorgeous honey-brown irises are enchanting– evidence of a life, so far, well-lived.

You adore him. You–

“I love you.”

He pulls back slightly with wide eyes.

“I– sugar, you don’t have to say it if you’re not ready.”

That’s so like Joel– to think he doesn’t deserve this.

You weave your fingers into the curls that stick to the back of his neck and your smirk turns into a smile, “I’m ready and I love you.”

You nudge his nose with your own and lean in, lips connecting in a simple peck.

“I love you too– so much, sugar,” he whispers, pressing your lips together again.

“Thank you for the boots, Joel. They’re beautiful.”

“I hope it’s okay– gettin’ you one gift. I… you know I’m not exactly the richest person in the world.”

“Oh baby, is that why you’ve been picking up all those extra shifts with Tommy?”

“Yeah,” he draws out bashfully.

You kiss him again, “Miller, it is more than okay for you to give me one gift. In fact, it would’ve been okay if you hadn’t gotten me anything. Just you being here is enough for me.”

“Oh, really?”

He sighs, squeezing your thighs again, pulling you in closer until your chests touch. You can feel him beneath you. Your cheeks heat up.

“Mhm.”

It’s gentle, the way he lays you down on the bed, legs hanging off the edge. He stands between your shaking legs. Your body is buzzing with the electricity of the moment, as he looks down at you with hooded, black eyes– hungry and soft.

He takes his time kissing up your body, starting where your skin is exposed at the top of your pajama pants and making his way up, up, up, in between your heaving, clothed breasts, shirt long gone on the living room floor, and finally up to your lips. He pecks them once and sighs, arms bracketing your head.

He says your name sternly, “Are you sure you want to do this? Because you know, I am very okay with waitin’.”

You look up into those eyes, the ones you fell in love with first, and you know. You know this is what you need.

“Please,” you whine, hips stuttering under his.

He holds your hip down with his large, sturdy hand and speaks softly, “Baby, I need a yes or no.”

“Yes, yes! I’m ready, Joel, please.”

With all the energy you have left in your buzzing and needy limbs, you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him into a kiss that says all the shit that’s always left unsaid. You’re my other half, I don’t think I can live without you anymore, I am yours, You are mine.

And it’s gentle, because that’s who Joel is. A father, a caregiver, a lover– he is gentle. He takes care of you, loving you down to the tips of your fingers, taking his time to savor the taste of you. It’s not perfect– there’s both of your awkward giggles while Joel pulls the condom on and your hisses as he goes a little too fast– but, to you, it’s perfect in all the ways it matters and you’re seeing stars multiple times before Joel finally finishes with a loud and gorgeous moan.

After Joel wipes you both down with a warm washcloth, you’re laying in his arms, playing with the wispy, brown hair just below his cheekbones and he’s humming in delight like a cat purrs.

“I love you,” he whispers, eyes closed.

“I love you, too,” you whisper back, kissing his chest just above his heart where you wish you could burrow yourself forever. Moving out of this bed is tomorrow’s problem. Today, you can pretend that you’re nestled in his heart chambers as his breaths slow and he falls asleep with his arms wrapped around you in a tight embrace, like even in his sleep he has to keep you close enough to feel your breaths, make sure you’re still next to him.

✦ ✦ ✦

March 1995

It’s not until three months later that Joel agrees that it’s time for you to meet Sarah. You’re not sure why it takes him so long to make that decision, but you try not to think about it too much or else you start to panic and you promised Joel that you would trust him more and this is one of those moments where you just need to tell your brain to ‘shut up’ and trust him. So, you trust him.

It’s a Friday evening. You pick him up from the diner and walk the short trip with your hands intertwined. You can feel the sweat pooling on his palms, despite the cool spring weather, but you don’t let go.

You’ve been to his apartment before, many times in fact, but it’s so different when it’s not just the two of you. Walking into high-pitched giggles and the low groan of the old stand mixer that usually sits dormant on Joel’s counter is odd, but it feels right– like this is how it’s always supposed to be.

Your heart is racing. He pulls you into the apartment and you see her for the first time.

Her light brown curls bounce, confined near her temples by the two butterfly clips in them, as she jumps up and down in her sparkly pink, plastic, princess heels that clack obnoxiously on the tiled floor of the kitchen. She’s wearing a pink, long-sleeved shirt– the red top of Elmo’s head just barely peeking out of the top of her jean overalls. Her tawny-brown, chubby cheeks are pulled taught by her unending smile. She looks just like the numerous pictures Joel has shown you with pride in his eyes, but now, in front of you, she is real.

And it doesn’t scare you. It excites you.

“Papi, is that you,” you hear a graveled, feminine voice cut through the static-filled radio that’s attached to the underside of the cabinet.

And now you’re scared.

Not only is Joel’s little girl in front of you, but so is his mother. Her dark brown hair, already graying at the roots despite her young age of forty-five, is pulled into a braid that runs all the way down to her lower back. She has a blue dress on with intricate white floral designs on the skirt, long and flowing. It moves gracefully as she glides around the kitchen. In a weird way, it is so obvious that Joel is her son.

Sarah’s eyes light up when she spots her dad, hands flying over her head.

“Daddy!”

Joel’s nervous demeanor is quickly discarded, leaving a smile in its wake.

“Guppy!”

She runs to her father, heels clacking and hair bouncing, and slams into his calves. Wrapping her arms around his legs, she squeezes with a grunt. All Joel does is chuckle at her violent affection.

From her position attached to her father’s legs, she turns her head towards you with her eyebrows crossed and a frown on her face, “Who’s that, Daddy?”

You sit on your calves to get down to her level and tell her your name with a smile, “It’s really nice to meet you.”

You’re good with kids. It’s why you wanted to be a teacher in the first place, besides the joy you got from sharing your knowledge. You used to babysit for your neighbors constantly (which was a good way to make money, but also an excuse to leave the house when your dad was having one of his really bad days). So, you should be good with Sarah. Right?

Joel nudges her off of him and kneels down to her level as well, “She’s my girlfriend.”

He doesn’t beat around the bush, doesn’t talk around it, because his little girl is smart and he wants to tell her the truth.

She looks you up and down suspiciously with her big brown eyes, “Girlfriend?”

“Yeah, baby. She’s my friend that I kiss sometimes.”

Her face scrunches up in disgust, “Ew!”

You copy her expression and whisper, “It is kinda gross sometimes.”

She looks you up and down with her eyebrows furrowed. For a second, you think she might be offended by you calling her father gross; based on what Joel has told you about her, you thought she would appreciate a joke at her dad’s expense, but maybe she didn’t when it came from someone she didn’t know–

Her face lights up and she starts to giggle, hands pulling at her father’s shirt.

“You’re gross, Daddy.”

He looks down at his clothes, covered in grease and sweat and laughs, “I guess I am.”

“I wonder how I can get clean,” he draws out, tapping his chin as if in deep thought. He scoops her up into his arms and starts to rub his face and hair, covered in grime from a long shift at the diner, all over her overalls.

She screeches, her laugh boiling over and filling the little living room. Her smile is radiant.

“Daddy, put me down!” She pushes at his shoulders with her tiny hands, which, of course, doesn’t move Joel an inch, but she continues pushing as hard as she can.

“But, you said I was gross! I’m just trying to fix it!”

“You’re makin’ me gross!”

“What?!”

She looks desperately over at you, grin taking over her chubby face, and reaches for you with the arm that isn’t restrained by Joel, “Help!”

“I’ll help you!” You stand up, grab her arm, and pull lightly, making sure not to hurt her.

“He’s too strong,” you cry out dramatically.

Her voice bounces as Joel jostles her around, “Ask him to stop! Politely!”

She adds “politely”, as if she’s repeating a mantra she’s held close to her heart. It’s endearing and it makes your heart ache for the kindness that Joel has taught and shown his daughter.

You oblige her. “Gross man, can you please let go of the princess?”

He stops suddenly, placing her down on the ground with a stomp of her feet. She prances away from him and over to you, hiding behind your legs.

“Anything for the Queen,” he salutes to you and looks at Sarah with sympathy in his eyes, “I’m sorry, Princess. I thought that you wanted me to get clean.”

She giggles again, wiping her hands down the bib of her overalls, “Daddy, you have to get clean in the shower!”

He throws his hands up in the air, “The shower?! Why didn’t you just say that?”

She copies her dad, throwing her hands up in the air, laughing still.

Turning to you, she curtsies, emulating lifting a skirt with her hands, “Thank you, kind lady for saving me. I’ll ‘emem- ‘emember this.”

She struggles with the word ‘remember’, nose scrunching as she knows she isn’t saying it right, but can’t quite get the syllables around her tongue.

“Anything for the Princess,” you curtsy back at her with your real dress.

Silent up to this point, Joel’s mom finally decides to put her two cents in.

“I like your boots, mija.”

You look down at your feet and see those gorgeous cowboy boots with the embroidered lavender sprigs and the lavender leather on the sides and you’re reminded how much Joel loves you– that this is a moment to celebrate, not to ruin with your overthinking. Joel adores his mother and Sarah– it is a privilege to meet these people.

“Oh, thank you, Mrs. Miller! Joel got them for me for my birthday.”

She smirks and winks at you, “I know, I helped him pick them out.”

She throws a towel over her shoulder and pops a tray in the oven. Joel and Sarah are talking behind you in soft voices. You can’t really make out what they’re saying, but you don’t really mind. Whatever made Sarah the most comfortable in this situation is good with you.

“Well, they’re beautiful. Thank you for helping him.”

Shutting the oven door with her hip, she pulls another tray from the counter and places it on top of the stove. She does all of this while making direct eye contact with you, like she is so familiar with the space that she could move around it with her eyes closed.

“I help papi with whatever he needs and he doesn’t know the first thing about what a girl likes– that’s why I buy all of Sarah’s clothes… and don’t call me Mrs. Miller– makes me feel older than I am. Call me Essie.”

Your face heats up, “Okay, Essie.”

“Momma–”

“You–” she points at Joel, stern look on her face– “are late.”

Joel looks so guilty, you almost think he’s killed someone. “I’m sorry, Momma. Don kept me later than usual.”

“Only reason I’m mad is that you took my time away from meeting your beautiful girl.” She walks up to you and hugs you.

Oh.

You stiffen, not because the hug is unwelcome, it is very welcome, but because you can’t remember the last time you’d been hugged by anyone but Elaine and Joel– by a mother.

And you can feel all the softness of a mother that you never got to have pour through her and to you. You know she knows about what happened to your mom; Joel tells his momma everything, but you hadn’t expected her to be this kind to you. Because you’re you, of course you had expected the worst, that she would hate you, tell you to get away from her son, tell you that you weren’t good enough, but here she is, showing you all the gentleness that she had taught her son to show others. You relax into it.

An embrace can say a thousand words, and you think this one says a thousand and one.

You can feel the heat on your face climbing further down and into your chest, straight to your heart.

“Sorry, Momma,” he mumbles.

She lets go of you and you feel the loss of her. You hope that she’ll show you her kindness again– you crave that affection.

“It’s okay–” she grabs your face and puts her forehead to yours– “You’re here now.”

Her dress swishes behind her as she returns to the kitchen to continue her cooking.

“Thomas is coming over,” she yells, her voice cracking slightly at the end with the effort.

Joel’s eyes go wide, “What?”

Sarah screeches, jumping up and down, which just seems to be her blanket response to excitement, “Uncle Tommy!”

Essie laughs, her whole face lighting up with the force of it, “Your brother wanted to meet your girl.”

You’ve heard lots of things about Tommy from Joel: how he gets regularly arrested for starting fights with people, how determined and head strong he was, how much he loved Sarah, and how massive of a flirt he was. At 17-years-old, Joel’s younger brother was a huge pain in his ass, but he loved him regardless.

“So he invited himself?”

She shakes her head, “No, toro, I invited him when I told him my plans for today before he went to school.”

“But–”

A knock on the door interrupts his protest. There’s the jingle of a key and then the door slams open with a kick.

“Hello, brother!”

Joel’s face falls into a blank stare, “Hello.”

Sarah, ever the aggressive greeter, runs to her uncle with a scream, “Tom-Tom!”

“Sarah,” he yells as he picks her up and spins her around in his arms. Her screeches turn into rambunctious laughter.

Tommy is a handsome young man. He has the same unruly brown curls that Joel does, but his are more structured and lay more securely on the top of his head, unlike Joel’s where it cascades down to his neck. Big, brown eyes and strong, dark eyebrows make him look more innocent than he actually is. He’s got a flannel and a stained wife-beater on.

“Nene, I told you to dress nicely,” Essie yells, leaning out on the entryway to the kitchen.

Tommy’s confident look quickly fades from his face, the same guilty look his brother had just sported taking over, “I’m sorry, Momma.”

She hums and goes back to the kitchen.

“Shit,” tumbles out of Tommy’s mouth.

“Sh–” Sarah starts to repeat, before Tommy claps a hand over her mouth. You can hear her giggling from behind his hand.

“Tommy!”

“Sorry, man, I didn’t mean to– ack, gross,” he exclaims as Sarah licks his palm.

He deposits her onto the ground and she runs into the kitchen, screaming. He rubs his hand on his dirty jeans.

“Tommy. This is my girlfriend,” he sighs, telling him your name, which Tommy repeats as he takes your hand in his (not the one that was just licked by Sarah) and kisses your hand.

“Well, seems you already know my name, sweetheart. It’s a pleasure to meet you after all these months of Joel talkin’ ‘bout ya.”

What you wouldn’t give to be a fly-on-the-wall when Joel talked about you. You knew he’d never speak badly of you– he never spoke badly of anyone, including Tommy–, but you were curious what he could possibly be saying to them, especially the young man in front of you.

“It’s nice to meet you too, Tommy.”

He drops your hand lightly and looks over at his brother. You think you see him wink, but you’re choosing to ignore whatever you just saw. You do, however, see the blush crawling back up Joel’s neck, as you turn back to him.

Joel takes your hand in his. You lace your fingers through his and squeeze lightly, an acknowledgement of his social awkwardness.

“Well, I’m gonna go see if I can help Momma with dinner, see if she can forgive me for dressin’ like an idiot.”

Joel’s lips form a line, “See ya.”

“Oh, brother, you’ve outdone yourself. Don’t know how you managed it.” He points to you, turns on his heel, and walks to the other room.

“I’m sorry about him,” Joel mutters, eyes downcast to the floor.

You shrug, “It’s okay. He seems nice.”

Guiding your shoulder towards him so that you’re fully facing him, he kisses your forehead, “Tell me if this is all too much, okay? Meetin’ my whole immediate family at once is a lot.”

You shake your head, “Joel, I am honored that I get to meet them. It’s a little overwhelming, but I can handle myself– don’t worry about me.”

“Okay, sugar,” he sighs into your hair.

The rest of the night goes off without a hitch. Sarah spends the whole meal screeching and throwing food at her dad. Tommy spends the whole meal laughing at Sarah throwing food at her dad. Joel patiently reminds Sarah that she’s not supposed to throw food, which, of course, she doesn’t listen to and continues to throw food at her dad. And you and Essie are in your own little world, discussing everything from your schooling to how she grew up in Columbia, but met Joel’s father when she moved to the States in 1970. She is an amazing listener and an engaging storyteller, face clearly displaying her emotions as she tells you about her brilliant life so far.

Joel tells you on your walk back to your dorm that he’s pretty sure that his mom likes you more than him now. You joke that you like her better than him too. He groans, “My momma’s gonna take my girl from me.”

“Your girl?”

“Yeah, sugar, my girl.”

✦ ✦ ✦

April 1995

“Are you ever gonna hang out with me again,” Elaine whines, watching you pull a flannel out of your closet and stuff it in your bookbag next to your books that you’re bringing to study with. It was Joel’s, but it was starting to lose his scent and you were going to demand he wear it tonight so that the leather smell would seep back into the fabric.

“Lane, we hang out all the time.”

Hair fanned out below her in a halo of sorts, Elaine lays on her bed with her head off the side, feet in the air. She scoffs and throws her hands up in exasperation.

“No! That’s not true! You are never here on the weekends anymore and that’s when all the good parties are going on.”

You deadpan, “When have I ever gone to parties with you?”

“You went to some parties!”

“I went to one party and left an hour in because I got completely overwhelmed and started crying after one drink.”

“Okay… but that was freshman year and I bet you could hold your booze much better now that you’re legal.”

“Elaine, baby, sweet girl, love of my life, I do not want to go to a party.”

She pouts and crosses her arms, “Yeah, you wanna go hang out with your boy and his four-year-old all weekend.”

You clear your throat and mutter, “Actually, Sarah is staying with her abuela this weekend.”

Elaine gasps, flipping around and sitting up on all fours, “No fucking way.”

“Yes fucking way,” you reply flatly.

“You are going to be in Joel’s apartment all weekend. Just the two of you.”

“Yup.”

“All by yourselves. For an entire weekend.”

“You just said the exact same thing twice and my answer is still yes.”

She bounds over to you and grabs your face in her hands, “Oh, my sweet baby, you are getting your brains fucked out all weekend, aren’t you?”

“Good god, Lane,” you shake her hands off her face and continue your packing.

She hops in place a couple times, her wild hair doing flips as she does, “You are, aren’t you?! Oh my god. This is so great, I cannot wait for you to tell me every detail when you get back.”

You glare at her for a moment and shake your head, “Fine.”

She shrieks, throwing her arms up in the air and running around your small shared room like she’s doing a victory lap.

Pumping a fist in the air, she flops backwards onto her bed and stares at the ceiling, face suddenly serious. But, you’re used to this by now, her mood changes like the wind– she has some of the most intense ADHD you’ve ever seen.

She raises her hand up.

You sigh, “Yes, Elaine?”

“I have a question.”

She sits up again, hands fidgeting in her lap, “What are you gonna do about Joel when you go back to Seattle for the summer?”

“I–” Oh.

You’d been thinking about summer break constantly since the moment you started dating Joel. It’s been a looming threat over everything you two have shared over the past 6 months, a near-constant reminder that you’ll be leaving to go back to your dad’s house in less than a month. You’d just pushed it to the back of your mind. No one ever mentioned it, so you just never brought it up.

But now that Elaine is here, sitting in front of you, confronting you with something you’ve been avoiding for months, it hits you like a ton of bricks.

“I don’t know.” You sink down into your desk chair, bag slapping on the tile at your feet.

“You really like him– don’t you, baby girl?”

You nod, staring at the floor. Two years of living in these dorms and you’d never noticed how uneven the tile was. You feel your heart beating in your ears.

“You know, you could stay with me and my parents this summer?”

“No, no, I don’t wanna bother them.”

She purses her lips, “Well… I kind of already asked them and they said that it was okay.”

You gasp, turning towards her, “What?”

“Yeah, baby, it’d be like a whole summer of sleepovers, except y’know, you’d have your own room.”

Elaine’s parents were cattle farmers. They owned a small ranch just outside of Austin with a wide expanse of land and multiple small houses throughout. Elaine didn’t live with her parents– she lived in her own small farmhouse about a quarter of a mile down the dirt road that ran through their property. You’d been there before; it was beautiful.

And not having to go back to Seattle: that would be great. If last summer was any indication of your dad’s excitement at you coming home, you had been dreading what this summer would bring.

But here’s an out. A way to avoid your father and his horrible rage. A way to stay near Joel and Sarah. A way to celebrate Sarah’s birthday with her in July like she’d been begging you to.

“Maybe.”

She grins, hands still fidgeting in her lap, but more aggressively like she’s trying to hold herself back from a big reaction to your “maybe”, which you both know just means “yes”.

“Thank you.”

“Don’ even mention it, baby. You’re the love of my life– I couldn’ bear another summer without you.”

Later that evening you're talking to Joel in his apartment over dinner, candles lit between you, Joel snug in your favorite flannel of his. You tell him about Elaine’s idea. He insists that you take her up on her offer. You send her a text that you’re going to stay. She replies with, “!!!” and then another text a few minutes later that reads, “go get sum, bb ;)”.

You make sure Joel can’t see that text.

When you’re done with dinner, you’re doing dishes together. He’s washing, you’re rinsing and drying. When you have dinner here, you switch who does what task– it keeps it fair, that’s what Joel had said when you started coming here a few months ago.

You can’t believe it’s been months with this amazing man. It makes you giddy: that time seems to pass so quickly with him.

He’s been quiet– well, more quiet than usual today. You think it might just be that he misses Sarah, but that theory quickly becomes dust when he finally starts to speak.

He clears his throat and breaks your comfortable silence.

“Talked to Tommy today.”

“Oh, yeah?”

He sniffs, “Yeah.”

“And what exactly did you two talk about?”

You know Joel and Tommy have never exactly gotten along. When you’d met Tommy the month before, that had been blatantly obvious. Joel loved Tommy. They both knew it– they’d never say it out loud though. But, their “talking” usually involved Tommy rambling about whatever he wanted and Joel grunting every other sentence so that he knew that he was still listening.

“He, uh– he says he’s gonna join the army.”

Your head whips towards him, “What?!”

He flattens his lips into a line and sniffs again, nodding.

“Was he fucking with you?”

That wasn’t an uncommon occurrence with Tommy. He regularly said things he knew would make Joel upset just to mess with him. Once, he had told Joel that his girlfriend at the time was pregnant just after his 17th birthday. Joel didn’t talk to him for a couple weeks after that.

He shakes his head, putting the sponge down into the lukewarm water.

Exasperated, you sigh, “Did he say why?”

“Says he wants to honor Dad or somethin’.”

You’d had discussions about Joel’s dad before. They were few and far-between, mostly because it was obvious that his father made him uncomfortable. He had died just six months after Sarah had been born– lung cancer caused by twenty-five years of smoking a pack a day, according to Joel.

Mark was a Vietnam veteran, left home at 18 to join the war effort. He’d met Essie when he was discharged with a prosthetic limb and a purple heart in 1970. Joel doesn’t know exactly what had happened to his dad in Vietnam, but he knew it was bad. He would wake up in the middle of the night to his dad screaming in his sleep– telling someone to move and then begging God to let his friend live.

Joel says he was terrified of his father, that he treated him like a “man” before he was old enough to have coherent conversations. What that meant was beyond you, but you understood that he wasn’t ready to talk about it and you were willing to wait. You would always wait.

“Do you– do you think he’s going to do it?”

He sighs, massaging his temples, “’M not sure. He… seemed pretty determined.”

Picking the sponge out of the water, he goes back to scrubbing, but now he’s doing it rougher, sponge squashed in his hand, dish squeaking aggressively. His eyebrows are scrunched together and you think you see a glint of something shiny in his eyes.

“Miller, what’s going on in that head of yours?”

He hands you the plate he was maiming to rinse and dry. You do so as he collects his thoughts.

Two more dishes are washed and dried before he says anything.

“Dad was a lot more gentle on Tommy than he ever was on me. He treated Tommy like his son, but he treated me like a soldier. Tommy had a dad, I had a General.”

He avoids eye contact with you as he continues.

“I think Tommy idolizes him too much, especially now that he’s gone and he never really saw the version of Dad that I did. The traumatized veteran.”

His shoulders shake as he sobs, choking on his words, “I don’t want Tommy to end up like Dad.”

Fuck, if that didn’t make you want to sob too. You hold yourself together for him, at least you try to. You can feel your emotions climbing up your throat, desperate to choke out of you.

You put a hand on his bicep and lean on his shoulder. The dirty water splashes when the sponge falls back into it, flicking water up and onto both of your shirts

A tear escapes his eye and lands on the top of your head, soaking into your hair.

“Did you tell him that?”

Another sob claws out of his mouth, “Yeah. He wouldn’ listen.”

“Well, baby, you did all you could do. Seems like there’s no stopping him.”

He doesn’t say anything. His wet hand wraps around your forearm and pulls it around his back so that you’re hugging him. You squeeze your arms around his waist as he runs his fingers through your hair, clings on to the strands and guides your head to his neck. You can feel the dish water from his hands soaking into your scalp.

You press a kiss to the skin under your lips and he sighs, pulling you in even closer.

“Things will work out. Whatever happens, I’m always here.”

He nods his head into your shoulder. A high-pitched whine tumbles out of his lips involuntarily.

“It’ll be okay.”

Shit.

✦ ✦ ✦

July 1995

Friday, July 14th, 1995 marks Sarah’s fifth birthday. She invites all her friends from preschool and Joel invites everyone he knows would want to be there for his daughter. Joel told you that he had gone to text Tommy to invite him, forgetting that his brother had left for basic training a month ago. He sent him a text anyway– asking him how he was doing. He hadn’t gotten a response yet.

When you walked into the apartment, with the key that Joel had given you a month ago, to help Joel and Essie set up the party this morning, Sarah had stopped you at the door with a smirk on her face and something held behind her back.

“Hello, Queen Sugar!” She curtsies to you with her large puffy, pink dress that Essie had painstakingly spent the last month making her.

You curtsy back with your own dress, the purple sundress you had worn to the beach all those months ago, “Hello, Princess Sarah! May I come in?”

You really know she’s up to something when her smirk turns into a maniacal grin.

“No.”

Hm. Where the hell is Joel?

You get down on your knees so that you’re eye-level with her, “Why not, your highness?”

She finally pulls whatever is behind her back out and holds it out to you. It’s the silver plastic crown with the pink jewels that she had worn on her fourth birthday. The one she wears whenever she’s feeling particularly royal. It’d been slightly too big for her then, but it fit her like a glove now.

“Because you aren’t wearing your crown yet. And you know it’s improper to attend a social event as the queen without your crown!”

Well, you didn’t know that. But you knew now. Joel’s doormat was really uncomfortable to kneel on.

“Well, of course, your highness, how could I forget that?”

She nods her head once resolutely.

“But I must ask, why aren’t you wearing a crown?”

She puts her hands on her hips, “I’ve decided that since it is your first Guppy birthday, your majesty, that you must wear the crown! It’s only fair that I share.”

Holding the crown out in front of her, she declares with determination, “All hail, Queen Sugar!”

You hear Essie’s graveled voice call through the apartment behind Sarah, “Mariposa, come help your abuela with decorating your cookies!”

She plops the crown on your head and runs into the apartment, leaving the door wide open. Well, so much for decorum.

“Hey, sugar.” A hand pops into your vision from the stairs beside you.

He’s got a couple bags of decorations in his left arm and is holding out the other for you to take.

“Hey,” you groan as he pulls you up onto your feet, “You want some help?”

“Nah, I got it.” He urges you inside with a wave of his hand and he walks in behind you.

The furniture that usually is cluttered around his living room is pushed to the walls, so that there’s more space for the kids to play. You notice a basket full of her toys sits in wait in the corner of the room, filled past the brim with pink.

“Lovin’ the crown, baby,” he smiles, setting the paper bags on the couch.

It’s crooked, askew from Sarah’s hasty exit.

“Thanks. Apparently I wasn’t allowed to attend a public event without one because it was ‘improper’.” You put quotes on the last words with your fingers.

“Well, if the princess says…” Coming around the side of the couch, he stands in front of you. You look up at him through your lashes as he adjusts the crown so it sits straight on your head. He’s done it enough with his little girl to know how to get it just right so the tight plastic doesn’t dig into your scalp.

“Thank you,” you whisper and press a chaste kiss to his lips.

He chuckles, snaking his arms around your waist, “Anything for the queen.”

You hum as he presses another kiss to your lips, longer this time, soft. You love these moments with Joel– the ones where he’s put himself in the moment, so that he isn’t thinking about the millions of things he needs to get done. But really, you love every moment you get to have with Joel.

“Daddy!” Sarah’s running into the living room with frosting smeared on her hands and all across her cheek and Joel puts himself to work getting it off her in the bathroom as you start to pull decorations out of the bags. Her birthday party this year is Sesame Street themed. When Joel had suggested it to her, she had jumped around the room screeching about all the decorations she needed and where to put them and how she needed to invite Elmo now so he would get his invitation on time. You had been in charge of the return letter from Elmo where he reluctantly declined her invitation with a crude drawing of himself in the bottom corner (Joel didn’t stop laughing at how horrible it looked for a week afterwards, “He looks like he got run over by a semi, baby.”). She wrote him back saying she understood and drew a heart and a smiley face at the bottom.

“Elaine’s gonna be late, she got held up with something.” You tell Joel as you hand him a freshly-blown balloon. He’d gotten the frosting off Sarah and then urged her into a nap so that she could be at full energy for her party.

He chuckles, “Oh, really? And what was that?”

Rolling your eyes, you sigh with a grin, “Robin.”

The mean blonde you had met in November in your dorm room after finding out about Sarah has been slowly worming her way into your heart. While you’ve been spending most of your summer with Joel, Elaine’s been spending most of her’s with Robin, who had stayed on campus this break to take summer classes. At first you’d been hesitant to encourage the relationship, Robin hadn’t made a very good impression, but Elaine seemed really happy, happier than you’d seen her in your entire friendship, and Robin’s grumpy attitude was growing on you.

“Good for her.”

“Yeah, good for her, but not so good for my sleep schedule.”

Turns out living in a house alone with Elaine all summer was great, except for the fact that the walls were a little too thin for your liking. You’d been learning a bit more about Elaine’s sex life than you wanted to know.

You watch as Joel attempts to wrap the string around the knot on the balloon with little success, his large fingers getting in the way of themselves.

“Gimme,” you mumble, holding your hand out.

He reluctantly hands the balloon and string over with a bashful smile.

Deftly, you string the balloon and watch it rise to the ceiling as you let it go. It wobbles back and forth and then finally stays in place.

“You could stay here tonight if you wanted? You’ve got those extra clothes you left in my drawer just in case.”

The drawer.

The drawer had been a very big deal to you when he first offered it casually one night when you’d realized you had forgotten to bring an outfit for the next day.

“You already left a toothbrush here, just leave a couple outfits here too. I’ll clear a drawer for you.”

Joel was very confused when you had started to cry. Through heaving breaths and tears you had explained to him that you had never been given a drawer before.

It didn’t help that you were PMSing really bad that day (which had been the entire reason you had come over in the first place).

You give him a smile, “Yeah?”

“Yeah, baby.”

You know there won’t be any sex, Joel made it pretty clear the first time you had stayed here when Sarah was home that he was not comfortable with that while she was in the apartment. The wall's thinness didn’t leave anything to the imagination and her room was right next to his. That was okay though, you enjoyed sleeping on the heater that was Joel Miller and that was good enough for you.

“Okay.” You stand up and give him a kiss on the cheek.

He pats your ass as you walk towards the kitchen. You send him a glare back with a smirk.

Everyone starts arriving at four, except your best friend, and you watch as Joel tries his best to wrangle six toddlers to do the activities that he’d planned. He bought some coloring books and told the kids to bring their own crayons because he had thought that maybe that would be a calming activity, but as you had predicted two weeks ago when he told you his plan, it had quickly devolved into drawing on the fold out table and somehow finding markers and drawing on each other. You helped him toss the drawing stuff in his room when the kids were distracted by Sarah telling the story of how you had almost “improperly” walked into her birthday party without your crown on. The kids thought she was hilarious.

Sarah is instantly captivated when Elaine walks through the door, like everyone is when they first meet her.

“Your hair is so pretty,” Sarah squeals, balancing on the balls of her feet.

Elaine gasps, a smile lighting up her face as she hands you her bag to put in Joel’s room, “Oh my god, your hair is so pretty too, baby girl.”

“I’m Sarah Esperanza Miller.” She recites her full name with a smile on her face, proud of her name.

Elaine holds her hand out for her to take, “Hi, Sarah. I’m Elaine Jo MacKenzie.”

She perks up, her whole body suddenly standing at attention. “Wait here!”

Elaine grabs your elbow and pulls you into her body, giving you a light kiss on the cheek while you both watch Sarah run to her room across the house– weaving and dodging through the crowd. She peeks around your body to look at Joel, a dreamy grin on her face.

“She’s beautiful, Joel.”

He smiles, running a hand through his hair, “Thank you.”

She looks up at you, “You’re a lucky motherfucker.”

You laugh lightly, “I know.”

She adjusts the crown on your head.

“It’s crooked,” she explains, nodding when she determines that it’s perfect.

You nuzzle your nose into her hair; it smells like strawberries.

“Thank you.”

When Sarah comes back, she’s hiding something behind her back, an excited smile taking over her chubby cheeks.

She goes to Elaine, pulling her arm out of your own and down so she’s kneeling in front of her.

“Can I touch your hair?”

Joel sighs, “Baby, that’s not–”

Elaine doesn’t break eye contact with her as she answers her, “Of course, you can. Thank you for asking. That was really polite.”

Sarah looks up to her dad, silently asking him for permission and he nods his head.

“As long as she says ‘yes’, then it’s okay.”

Elaine nods too when she turns back to her and Sarah tucks Elaine’s puffy mess of hair behind her ear and sticks a small, pink butterfly clip just above her ear. Joel recognizes it as her favorite hair accessory, one of the only ones that Joel can easily style her hair with.

Elaine gasps, jumping up and finding the nearest mirror, and smiles when she sees herself in it. She delicately adjusts the clip so that it is more secure. “Oh, baby girl, I love it! Thank you!”

Sarah giggles uncontrollably, “I knew it would look pretty on you!”

“Well, of course, you knew– you’re a genius, baby!”

She kneels back on the ground and holds her arms out, an invitation for a hug. Sarah runs into her arms and she huffs with the force of her tiny body colliding with her chest.

You knew that Sarah would love Elaine; her eccentric joy was so magnetic that this automatic connection between the two of them just made sense. She had always made friends easily, but Elaine was an expert at entertaining children.

Sarah runs off to go play with her friends, so Elaine comes back up to take your arm again.

“Hey, we’re matching,” she points out, flicking the big jewel on the crown on your head.

“We are.”

Elaine’s eyes soften as she looks down at you, always taller than you when she actually straightened out her spine (which she so rarely did).

“Sarah’s girls.”

You nod.

Sarah’s girls.

series masterlist | masterlist of all masterlists 🌼 | eras masterlist 🌻

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asvtrials · 16 hours

Text

Hate that I want you, part ii

hate that I want you masterlist

previous part next part initial idea (part one): @floydsfae Tags: @ilovejeansosomuch @spikedfearn @soberbabes @victorysony @ellie1725 @lucycarlisleswife (I couldn't tag some of you sorry pookies) summary: Parting ways with a friend group was always hard, somehow trying to rejoin that group was even harder. Especially when a particular quick-tempered someone is rather bitter about your choices. warnings/tags: lots of swearing. friends to enemies to lovers. Bjorn is a bitter and jealous shit. angst a/n: I'm not very familiar with the Alien franchise so forgive me if there are any inaccuracies. English is not my first language so please be nice. Thank you for the wait, my internship just started so I didn't have much time. I tried to include Bjorn's accent a bit more. word count: 2415

You could've just gone home and drowned in your bed but instead, you let Tyler and Kay convince you to join them for drinks. Bjorn’s snarky comment was still replaying in your mind when you took a frozen beer bootle “Eh, yeh sure. Thanks, Tyler How coulda forget?”

The metal steps were cold against your thighs, but you didn't feel like moving. You took a sip from your beer bottle—the bitter liquid burning your throat a bit—while you listened to the rest of the crew joke around.

You had to admit you missed this. Apart from Bjorn's occasional sharp looks everything brought you sweet memories from the countless times you stayed up till late to drink and chat.

You expected it to be uncomfortable, especially with Navarro, since she wasn't the most forgiving person. But it seems like your years of friendship did soften her.

She arrived after you, so you thought she'd ignore you completely and just move on with her night but she was quick to approach you with a smirk, giving you a light jab to the shoulder as she sat next to you.

"The fuck are you doing here?" Her voice held a playful tone.

You snorted. "Careful, you sound almost happy to see me."

Navarro tilted her head and raised a brow before uttering "Don't get your hopes up." with a laugh causing you to do the same. "So to who died and made you come here?" She asked before taking a sip of her beer.

You stalled by taking a sip of your own beer again. You didn't want to make things awkward by making the conversation so serious so fast, especially with Navarro who really disliked all that sappy shit.

"I get you." She said with a shrug before you could come up with a response.

You blinked. "What?"

"I get it. If I bagged anyone who had such a ‘promising’ future…” She dragged the word 'promising', copying the way you used to say it when you talked about him. “let's just say you wouldn’t be seeing me for a while" She joked but her words stung a bit.

"It's not like that..." You disagreed and the girl raised an unconvinced brow. "Really it's not. It's just—I tried to get that transfer to the kitchens, to get out of the mines, and all the time I had left I spent with Noa." You explained as you watched your friend take another sip from her beer nonchalantly. "I did miss you guys, really. Ask Kay, I always asked abo—"

"Jeez dude chill, I get it.” She cut you off, moving her eyes from her bottle to you, a small yet genuine smile flickered across her face “I'm glad you're back."

You stared at her, a wrinkle forming between your brows as you frowned, completely dumbfounded by her lack of care.

"Thanks..." You wanted to leave it at that but you knew Navarro, and this wasn't her. The Navarro you knew would give you the cold shoulder for weeks, you were so sure because you would've done the same. So you couldn't help but ask "Why aren't you like, you know, pissed at me?"

"Do you want me to be?" She asked while taking a cigarette she rolled earlier out of her pocket.

" 'Course not, I just expected you to be a little less...chill?" You ended up saying. Suddenly you turned to the girl with wide eyes. "Are you high? "

Navarro couldn't contain her laughter, some smoke puffing out if her nose.

"I'm not high, you moron. Just shit happened, you know. That kind of changed how I view things or whatever. You didn't abandon me and Bjorn when we needed you the most...I didn't forget that." She explained, taking another puff from her cigarette.

You knew what she meant. It wasn't that long ago since Bjorn's mother passed but you still remember hearing about it as if it happened yesterday.

You were finally at the checkout station, waiting for your turn when your eyes caught the small, old television in the corner of the wall. Tears welled up in your eyes as you watched the screen in the spacious checkout room show the face of the woman alongside the other two victims.

You found yourself at the doorstep of their trailer. Navarro's state was enough to destroy you. You were not used to seeing such a pained expression decorating the face of your usually laidback friend.

The younger girl was the only one you saw that day. Bjorn was nowhere to be found.

That was one of the few times you saw her in the past months and you really wished it didn’t need to go this far for you to drop everything and visit.

"Is Bjorn doing okay?" You asked her, not sure what you were expecting to hear.

The boy was awfully close with his mother. It was natural, she was the only parent he had. His dad was a deadbeat, abandoning them as soon as he found out he was going to be a father.

"He's better." Navarro confirmed.

"What happened was so fucked..." You comment, shaking your head in frustration.

"Yeah...i still don't know where was he that day" She confessed.

"You don't?"

"Nah, he wouldn't answer anyways."

Yeah, You could already see Bjorn dodging the question. You could also imagine him getting plastered at whatever bar he found.

Your eyes fell on the boy. He was laughing about something Tyler said until he met your eyes. His wide smile slowly turned into a small smirk, holding your gaze a bit longer before turning back to his cousin.

You chose to ignore the irritation that followed after he tore his gaze from you and focused on Navarro. You continued talking, about her life, about your life, then you moved on to stupid shit until it the usually shady sky was especially dark.

"Fuck it's gotten late." You mumbled, the beer bottles you chuged weren’t doing much to help you focus.

"Oh shit, yeah." Tyler cursed under his breath after checking his wrist watch.

Kay and Tyler didn't live too far from their cousin so they didn't really care. You on the other hand needed at least ten minutes to get to your apartment.

You stood up with a sigh and grabbed your jacket. "This was fun but I have an early shift tomorrow." You announced.

"You're gonna walk alone?" Kay asked concerned.

"You can crash at our place" Navarro offered.

"Yeah, you can." Bjorn spoke to you for the first time since you arrived here. You didn't need to hear his next words to know that he was going to say something stupid, his smug expression a clear sign. "We can share the couch, get all cuddly and stuff." He suggested, sending you an innocent look.

You grimaced in disgust and wordlessly turned to leave, yet you could feel the blood rising to your cheeks. For a moment you thought he’d add a stupid ‘Like the good old times' or something.

"We can take you home." Tyler offered, standing up from his seat and Kay quickly followed.

"Yeah, it will be good to walk a bit." She assured with a warm smile, although her excuse was laughable. You bet both she and Tyler got enough exercise in the mines, and to your disappointment, the kitchen was no better.

Then the person you least expected to speak up silenced all of you. "Nah, I'll take 'er."

Everyone eyed the boy in either confusion or annoyance.

"No" Kay let out a breathy laugh, as if the boy's words were merely a joke. "We'll take her home."

Bjorn threw his hands with a huff and slumped in his chair. "Yall call me a wanker all the fuckin' time yet don't want me to be nice? Maybe I just wanna mend things between us, don’tya agree Y/n?"

"Oh spare me." You scoffed, sending him a disbelieving look. "You just wanna talk more shit about me and Noa and everything I did wrong. You just don’t want Tyler or Navarro to shut you up."

"Yeh, Like you'd hate that, darlin’. So quick to bite back." He said, a hint of a smile making an appearance. “Yer a bit of a shit talker yourself, don't ya think?”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the way the corner of you mouth twitched upwards at the mention of the familiar nickname.

“Gosh, you're so annoying.” You grumbled but you had to admit it was nice talking to him normally again—or at least the idea of normal you and Bjorn adopted. You were sure this truce would be short-lived.

The boy ignored you and pushed himself up from the chair, capturing the blunt he was rolling between his lips.

“Let's get goin’, wouldn't want ya to miss your beauty sleep,” He mumbled with the cigarette in his mouth as he walked past you earning a glare from you.

He continued walking as if he wasn't even considering that you might not follow, knowing you too well. God, he was annoying.

“You kinda deserve this for dumping us” Navarro joked. You flipped her off but laughed a bit.

You followed him with a sigh, waving goodbye to your friends in the process.

“Please don’t kill each other.” Kay laughed, returning the wave.

Your walk was quiet, the only sounds accompanying the two of you were the crickets in the distance and the occasional puffs that Bjorn let out, the smoke enveloping the both of you. Sometimes you would hear the loud music and inaudible talking at a nearby bar but that was it.

It was frustrating. He was the one that insisted on taking you home and now he was the one refusing to speak. Bjorn was always hard to understand but he was especially hard since you came back.

You understood it was because he was angry that you left, abandoned them, abandoned him but then why demand on being around you so much?

But still his words from before—they made you think that there was something more than anger behind his behavior. The memory of the unexpected tenderness in his voice engraved in your mind.

Even if it wasn’t for the all years you knew him, that one moment would’ve been enough to want you to actually mend things between the two of you, even if Bjorn ridiculed the idea before.

“Thanks for doing this.” You attempted to sound as normal as you could.

“Sure.” He replied, not bothering to look at you.

You sighed trying to ignore the uncomfortable silence that clutched at the two of you like a veil.

“What?” The boy asked irritated.

“Nothing. It’s just weird, I guess.” You replied truthfully, too tired of playing all those mind games.

“Very observant, aren’t you darlin’” He chuckled and tossed the finished cigarette on the pavement.

“See, that’s weird.” You gestured toward him with a scoff. “You keep acting like an asshole, then call me darling and insist on taking me home.”

Bjorn ignored your words and just continued to walk to your house, his hand raising to rub the nape of his neck was the only indication of his own discomfort.

You could already see your house from here but you weren’t done. You halted your movements in frustration, sending him an aggravated look. “Why are you acting like a little bitch?” You winced at your words as soon as they left your lips, you wished you had picked something more tactful to say.

Bjorn turned to face you, eyebrow raised and a sarcastic smile spreading on his lips. “Callin’ me a little bitch? Really? If anything I’m the only one that’s not actin’ like a little bitch.” The boy spat back, approaching you. “You left, for bloody two months, and expect everyone to run around and kiss your feet for blessing us with your presence?” He spoke, his words lacking the gentleness from the last time you had this conversation.

“What, is little Y/n sad that I’m angry at her?” You had to lift your head to hold his mocking gaze the closer he got to you. You swallowed thickly when he crouched a bit to get closer to your face. You should’ve felt uncomfortable, scared even but the way your stomach flipped was anything but uncomfortable.

“That’s not what I said.” You were disappointed at how weak your voice sounded and you weren’t sure if your narrowed eyes gave the harsh effect you wished for.

“Mhm? Go on then.”

“If you’re so angry why are you taking me home, huh? I thought you wanted to talk shit but you were quiet the entire walk. What is it, just want to be blessed by my presence a bit longer?” You asked and it was your turn to watch his jaw tense.

Bjorn held your gaze for a long moment before ripping his icy eyes away from yours for a split moment, to regain his composure. However, it seems to be fruitless because when he turned back to you, his eyes held the same dark look to them. He took a step closer, his eyes never leaving yours. Your brows furrow at his movements yet your body refuses to move an inch.

Without a word, he leaned closer and you swore you saw a quiet plea in his eyes. To be okay with this—No. To want this as much as he does.

Embarrassment is long forgotten when you open your lips ever so slightly, running your tongue over your bottom lip in anticipation as his hand slowly reached your flushed cheek, his fingers grazing the warm flesh.

“Jus’ wanted to show ya—” His hoarse voice ripped the silence “That I can make you feel like that, just by looking at you…” He whispered making you shudder. “I bet you haven't felt like this in a long time, eh?”

Dammit…You shouldn't feel like this. It was Bjorn for fucks sake. Stupid, loud, annoying Bjorn. Why was he making you feel like this? He never did before.

Teasing, joking around, that was good, it was safe. You never wanted more. But now you felt like your body was about to burst into flames.

You only managed to say a quiet “You're a fucking dick…”

A small smirk spread across Bjorn's face when he saw the tension in your eyes, matching his own yearning. He hoovered over you, lips barely touching when you heard an aggravating noise.

(i love reading your comments babes don't be shy)

#alien romulus #bjorn alien romulus #bjorn alien romulus fanfic #bjorn alien romulus x reader #bjorn alien romulus fanfiction #bjorn x reader #alien romulus fanfic #hate that i want you #elle's masterlist #spike fearn

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dreadsuitsamus · 3 days

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First | Choso Kamo x Reader |

author's note: this is a sequel to that small first kiss imagine i wrote a while back, and i've finally found the steam to wrap it up! i love this guy 🩷

pairing: choso kamo x fem!reader

warnings: nsfw, explicit smut, fingering, dry humping, friends to lovers

Frost nips at Choso’s delicate little nose as he has a cigarette out on the balcony, his habit uncaring about the weather conditions being less than stellar. It’s cold, though not snowing at least. His dark hair is down, the ends tickling the back of his neck while a beanie covers the top of his head and ears, keeping him as warm as possible in this thirty degree weather. Shooting a gaze over his shoulder as he blows the smoke with the direction of the wind, he peeks inside of the window to see if you’re ready yet, but the living room is still empty. So, with his question answered, he turns back around and looks to the sky.

It’s been a handful of weeks since he first kissed you, and he’s kept his word: a kiss every single day, and usually more than once a day at that. And naturally, as one would hope with frequent make-outs, things have progressed a bit beyond two friends just kissing to heal old wounds. You’ve been friends for quite a long time by now, and it’s been so easy to transition to this budding romance, the expected awkwardness and general weirdness you thought would appear not existing at all. Choso puts out the cigarette and discards it with a flick to the busy city street far below him, climbing back into your apartment and shrugging the hefty coat off of his strong, broad shoulders once he’s closed the window.

“Oi!” He comes to tap his knuckle against your closed bedroom door. “We still gotta get a cab, babe, come on! We’re gonna miss our reservations.”

“I don’t know what to wear!” Your voice wails from behind the wooden barrier between you and Cho, and he sighs. He’s not sure why he didn’t expect this of you, as you’ve historically always been the late one in your friend group.

“Whatever you wear is gonna look great!” Choso pouts and leans against the wall. You’re not convinced, though, and you look between the two dresses laid out on your bed. It’s your first date with Cho, and despite knowing him for over seven years, you’re as nervous as you’d be on a blind date with a proper stranger. You’re treading a line finer than the baby hairs at the back of your neck, after all, and on the line is something too precious to lose.

But also on the line stands the chance for a relationship that could flourish into the best thing you’ve ever had. Frankly, there should probably be more butterflies rumbling in your tummy!

Moving to the bedroom door and pulling it open to see your dear friend, you take his large hand in yours and tug. Happy to be dragged anywhere you take him, especially into your lair as you’re half-naked under that little silk robe, Choso easily follows your lead. He doesn’t hide his sneaky little grin well, and you bat his arm with a laugh, warmth withering the nerves away with the comfort that, at least, he thinks you're hot. Cho’s the same as he’s always been, after all, and the reminder melts the tension from your shoulders. “You’re dating me now and still acting like this?”

“Am I supposed to stop?” He murmurs, tugging his beanie off and threading those long fingers through the chocolatey locks, fluffing it up a bit and then smoothing it out.

“I hope not.” Sinking your teeth into your lip, you pick up your two best dresses, holding them up and turning to Choso. “So, which one do you think would look good?”

His amber eyes don’t linger on either choice and instead scan that skimpy lilac robe that hardly reaches your mid-thigh, his hands closing into tight fists while his Adam's apple bobs steadily. He’s always thought of you as attractive, no doubt, and that’s why he kissed you on that sweet night your friend group passed around first kiss stories. You deserved an amazing first kiss and Choso wanted nothing more than to be that for you, to erase the memories of that dreadful man you gave your all to. His intentions aren’t all pure, however, and he hopes to God you can’t sense it.

He would kill your ex if given the chance. How dare that bastard take and take every ounce of your spirit, crushing you beneath the weight of his impossible expectations, carelessness and general assholery? Choso’s made it more than his personal mission to wipe out every memory, heal each scar and destroy any and all lingering ideas of doubting what you deserve. You should be loved, adored, cherished…

And fucked absolutely senseless.

If your first kiss was no good, your first time couldn’t have been halfway decent either. And he hasn’t wanted to admit it, he wants to be good and proper and show you what a gentleman is like… But every night it claws at him knowing that you’ve never been shown a good time. Knowing that your beautiful body was never worshipped, never adored and doted on or prioritized at all kills him. He should take it slow like he planned, he knows. It’s what you deserve!

But he’s going absolutely mad at the sight of you now and frankly, it shows; your chest flips at the look in those warm, hungry, honey-hued eyes. “Cho?” Your voice, so soft and pretty, quickly jolts him back to his senses. Shaking his head as if to knock the naughty thoughts from his brain, Choso takes a proper look at each dress you’re holding.

“Uh… They’re both… nice.” One has a plunging neckline and the other one is so short he’s not completely sure it’ll cover your ass! Why don't you just write ‘tease’ clear as day on your forehead while you're at it? Not to mention, it's thirty fucking degrees outside and he's not looking forward to giving up his coat when you get cold!

“Just nice?” With a defeated groan, the dresses are tossed onto the floor and you’re back to the drawing board in your closet, flipping through your array of sundresses, evening gowns, club outfits and more. Choso’s close behind as you walk away, a confused crease forming between his brows as he takes in just how packed this walk-in is. He could swear he’s seen you cycle through the same six or so outfits since he met you! How could you possibly have this many clothes??

Blinking himself out of the stupor, Cho places warm palms to your shoulders, rubbing a gentle massage into your skin. His touch is magical, and any other time would be quite soothing. But the nerves that line every inch of your body are just too frayed for a simple shoulder rub to cure this time. “Baby, it really doesn’t matter what you wear-”

“Of course it does! This is our first date!”

Okay, time to re-route.

Choso presses a kiss to your temple, hands gradually marking a path to your hips, taking the scenic route and enjoying a few selfish squeezes along the way. With soft lips at your ear, you shiver at how Choso touches you. This relationship— situationship?— is still fragile and fresher than a newborn baby, and while the kissing is plentiful, that's about as far as it really gets.

“Relax...” Cho murmurs quietly, squeezing your hips and rubbing at your rear. “Breathe, baby. It's all okay.”

Melting like butter, Choso’s touches light your eyes with lust and, dragging your wet tongue along your glossed lips as a soft moan passes by, you fall easily into his embrace. “Cho…”

With a trail of kisses smattering your neck and shoulders, Choso coos. “You could wear a paper bag and I’d still be fighting off all the other men in the room. And all the other girls could be naked and I'm still only gonna be able to see you. I mean it, babe. You're just that perfect.”

“... What if I wore nothing?”

Choso kisses a spot he's not sure he's touched yet. “Then we'd both be in jail, but my sentence would be a lot longer than yours.” Murder is, after all, a bit more than a frowned upon misdemeanor.

“And what if you wore nothing with me?”

A small smile is hidden into your skin, Choso's lips pressing insistently to your neck as his large hands come to pull at the knot at the front of your robe. “Then I think we're missing our reservations tonight.”

You're leaned back against him fully now, head rolling off to the side to allow him more unbridled access to the column of your throat. “Who likes that restaurant anyway?”

“You're right.” Sharp teeth nip gleefully alongside a low chuckle. “What's another six week waiting list, hm?” Your robe slips from your shoulders after a light, insisting tug at it by the small of your back. By the time it's pooled at your ankles, the silky fabric cool on your skin, Choso’s hands have resumed their exploration of your body.

His hands are cold still from his smoke break, which sends goosebumps down your delicious body wherever he touches you. His mouth, hot and minty with a tinge of cigarette, plants a kiss on the shell of your ear, his low voice whispering against you in a way that lights the rest of your body up.

“You’re so pretty.”

Your nipples, covered by a pretty pink bra with strawberries on them, peak as your cunt is struck with a lick of lust; you never dreamed before that Choso would be one to make you feel this way. He's always been just a friend, a guy you never really realized even had a penis, let alone one you'd like to see and touch and more.

How time changes things!

You turn in his arms, pushing up onto your tiptoes into a desperate kiss, one that nearly sends Choso off of his feet as your dalliance moves from the closet and to the bed. Boldness strikes him and he's turning your back to the bed, the edge of the mattress knocking the back of your knees before you're guided down, Choso’s large hands holding your figure tenderly.

“Can I touch you?” He murmurs, hands completely still despite his lust swelling below the belt and beneath his ribcage. Even with the general flirting, kissing and touching going on, to make the true transition of friend into boyfriend is a heavy step, one he doesn't want taken back.

Adoration-fueled goosebumps scatter your body, the tingling feeling in your breast and thighs meeting in the middle for a warm flooding of your tummy. Cho is so delicate, so thoughtful and considerate… It makes your desire for him triple in the single blink of an eye.

“Please.” His whisper is more urgent now, a frenzy building behind warm, amber eyes. He'll certainly stop if you command him so, but you couldn't dream of doing so now.

Your fingertips brush against the strong, solid line of his jaw, feeling his smooth, pale-toned skin. “Yes. Everywhere.”

Choso’s lips crash onto yours immediately, greedily having a fill of your sweet, pretty lips as the pads of his fingertips graze your body, massaging small circles into the warm, electrified flesh of your hips. The thin line of your panties taunts him, that and his own clothes reminding him of how far away he really is from you.

“Choso.” You murmur at his short hesitation, playing with the little hairs at the back of his neck. It soothes him, as intended, and he presses a sweet kiss to your cheek while dipping his thumbs below the band of your skimpy underwear, toying with the fabric before running his hands up your beautiful curves and carefully removing the thin bralette to see your breasts, bare and beautiful for the first time.

Choso’s mouth, hot and honeyed with his wanton saliva, glazes over one of your gorgeous, pert nipples. A shiver trembles down your spine and a soft little moan passes your lips as his tongue swirls and lips suck, and the encouragement is enough for him to slowly dip his hand beneath your panties, those long fingers finding a hot, sticky mess to play with.

The feeling of your juicy cunt on his hand, the way your pretty little clit hides between the succulent lips of your pussy… It makes Choso harder than he's ever been. A harsh shiver overtakes him as his fingers lather in your sweetness, two of them carefully dipping inside of your hole.

“Holy fuck…” His warm breath fans over your breast, his forehead resting against you while he slowly pumps his fingers in and out of you. The way your walls just suck him in, so greedily, so warm and inviting and… and god he can't believe how hard he is. “You're so perfect…”

Heat fills your entire face at his admission. All he's done is for your pleasure, yet he's panting and groaning like you're the one touching him. Is it really possible for a man to feel pleasure from giving, rather than receiving?

With the way that rod in his jeans pokes at your leg, it must be.

“Cho, you feel so good…” Your face buries into his hair, the dark chocolate locks smelling of strawberries. He never did seem like the type to buy the “manly” ten-in-one types.

“No, you do.” Choso presses a sweet kiss to your collarbone, urging his long fingers deeper inside of your core, spreading your sticky, thick nectar over his digits. He relishes the feeling, the way your pussy grips him and asks for more and more and more. And he gives it to you, finger-fucking you faster and filling the room with raunchy squelches, the addicting sounds only urging him even further.

“So good… Pretty pussy, sweet pussy…” It's as if he's drunk, intoxicated on you and all you're giving him. He slips a third finger inside of you, gentle in stretching you open to accommodate the girth of the three fingers together. All he wants is to feel you, simply just can't get enough of you around him.

“Ch-Choso, fuck, mmmmmmmm fuck!” He's hitting all the right spots so perfectly, prodding the spongy spot inside. “I-I’m close, honey, so close…”

Sharp teeth sink into the curve of your breast, quiet growls muffled into the flesh. You're so close, and he's going to get you there, all over his hand. He needs it, you need it, god he needs it…

Your back nearly snaps as you shoot up into an arch, cumming harshly and moaning loud enough to piss off the neighbors, who also happen to be your friends, though once Nobara is past the interruption of her beauty sleep she'll surely be joining Yuji in giggling about it.

Choso's rutting relentlessly now, withdrawing his fingers from your cunt and to his mouth, moaning as he licks and sucks every ounce of your essence from his digits. This man, your friend— boyfriend, is dry humping your bed while suckling his own fingers that are drenched in your taste, getting off on pure you…

He's absolutely perfect.

Pulling his hand from his mouth, you cup his strong jaw and pull him up for a kiss, and he adjusts himself between your legs, the tinkle of his belt buckle the only thing keeping you in the moment enough to realize he's shoving his pants and boxers to his knees, that lovely cock (that you had no idea he was packing below that belt) springing up against his stomach before he lays back down, his hot cock leaking against your ruined panties as he ruts.

His large hands rest on either side of you, holding him up so he's not pinning his weight down and crushing you, and you play with his hair as he comes closer to orgasm. The bedspread is bunched into his fists as he crests, his lips no longer able to cooperate with yours as beautiful, hot, sticky ropes of thick, white cum burst from his purpled tip, covering your lower belly and panties in his seed, all whilst groaning entirely unintelligible babble.

This is the first time in your entire life that you've felt so sexy and desirable, and the warmth in your chest blooms into a strong heat, a flame of love and adoration that may never burn out.

Choso falls to the left of you, his chest heaving while he gathers himself. He glances your direction, and with a bit of an embarrassed smile, he slips his hand into yours, squeezing warmly.

#choso kamo x reader #choso kamo x you #choso x you #choso x reader #jjk x you #jjk imagine #x reader #reader insert #fic

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i-can-read-to-him · 21 hours

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The Wesper Fic Club's Author Spotlight is a post series that aims to feature two to three fic authors a month, randomly selected from a pool of names put forth on our server. The authors are then asked to answer three interview questions, select up to five of their fics for us to feature, and finally, recommend three fics by others in the fandom.

(Note: Our spotlighted fics are not limited to Wesper, though they tend to be a central pairing in most of our authors' featured works.)

This week, we are putting a spotlight on Blackpearl's writing!

Socials: @magicandpizza (Tumblr) | Blackpearl (AO3)

❀

Part One: Author Interview

Q: When did you first start writing? What keeps you going today?

A: I honestly don’t remember when I started writing, but I was very young. I have vague memories of writing some little stories inspired by Beatrix Potter, and at one point I was convinced I was going to write the fifth Harry Potter book. I don’t recall anything else about that one apart from the title - Harry Potter and the Silver Snitch. What was the plot? Who knows. My first serious fandom was Pirates of the Caribbean, followed by Spooks and BBC Sherlock. I had some of those fanfics published on AO3, but they’ve long since been orphaned. I then didn’t write anything for years and years until I fell into the Six of Crows fandom. And the rest, as they say, is history.

Q: Have you had a chance to interact with the SAB cast? Tell us about your experience(s)?

A: I’ve been lucky enough to meet Jack Wolfe a few times by stage-dooring at Next to Normal, once at the Donmar and three times at Wyndhams. He’s such a genuine, down-to-earth person who really loves his fans. And his eyelashes? Rude. I also met Kit Young after his show Influence. It was about two days after the cancellation announcement and we had a chat about that, as well as what had drawn him to doing a magic show. He was very kind and generous with his time. I’m attending Into The Fold 2 next year - it’ll be my first ever convention so I’m excited for that and the opportunity to meet some more of the cast!

Q: What’s something you wish you could write, but don’t think you ever will?

A: I really wish I was one of those authors who could craft incredible and intricate plot lines, but I never have been and I don’t think I ever will be. I’d love to be able to write a heist or something complicated like that, but all my attempts are half-hearted at best. I should probably just stick to what I do best: fluff and smut.

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Part Two: Selected Works

Don't Do Sadness

Mature | 3.1K (Complete) | Wesper 5+1, Wylan Van Eck and his trauma, Violence, Extremely dubious consent (not Wesper)

Blackpearl says: Mind the tags on this one. I really wanted to explore Wylan’s trauma at different ages and how he might cope with it, and also take a step away from the usual stuff I write. I’m very pleased with how this one turned out.

Sky Full of Stars

Explicit | 10.2K (Complete) | Wesper Famous/celebrity AU, Wylan is a musician, Jesper is an actor, mixed media fic

Blackpearl says: This was an idea I had percolating for a while, and I wanted to play around with writing different kinds of media. I feel this one is a bit under-appreciated but that’s fine, I had fun writing it.

We Keep This Dream Together

Mature | 33.1K (Complete) | Wesper Coffee shop/university AU, Loosely based on the UK education system, Wesper-centric featuring background Helnik and Kanej, Found Family

Blackpearl says: Who doesn’t love a coffee shop AU? This was very self-indulgent, but I had so much fun with it I’m working on a sequel!

Folding

Teen | 2.6K (Complete) | Wesper Jesper’s gambling addiction, Post-canon, Hurt/comfort

Blackpearl says: I don’t think Jesper’s gambling addiction gets addressed enough, and I wanted to explore what it might look like post-canon.

Tie Me Up

Explicit | 1.7K (Complete) | Wesper Shameless smut, Light bondage, Light dom/sub, bottom!Wylan, top!Jesper

Blackpearl says: It wouldn’t be me without a smut fic, and this is one of my favourites. Featuring slightly subby Jesper and slightly mean Wylan and a tie that neither of them will ever look at the same again.

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Part Three: Author's Recs

i’d marry you with paper rings by MaudeAlise

Teen | 11.3K (Complete) | Wesper, Helnik, Kanej Fluff, Established Relationship, Post-Canon, Marriage Proposal

Blackpearl says: Just 11k words of Wylan and Jesper being stupidly in love and wanting to marry each other. This fic makes me grin like an idiot every time I love it. Also just a general shout out to everything that MaudeAlise writes. I’m obsessed with them.

Obvious Lovebirds by perculiarjuliar

Teen | 11.6K (Complete) | Wesper, Helnik, minor Kanej POV Multiple, Fluff, Heartbeats, Holding Hands, Hickeys, Kissing

Blackpearl says: Six different outsider perspectives of Wylan and Jesper’s relationship. I love fics like this, and this author did such a great job of getting into the heads of the different characters.

Keep You Safe by @aphroditestummyrolls

Mature | 42.3K (Complete) | Wesper, Helnik, Kanej, Crows & Colm Post-Canon, Book & Show, Canon Divergence, Protective Crows

Blackpearl says: Six months post-canon in an alternate universe where Jesper took the jurda parem, and Matthias lives. Colm Fahey comes looking for his son. This fic is so so so good and made me feel so many things. I love the deep dive in Jesper and Colm’s relationship, as well as Jesper and Wylan’s. Just perfect.

❀

Please support our authors by commenting and leaving kudos on any stories of theirs you read and enjoy! Don't forget to also reblog this post and check back soon for our next author spotlight to come.

Interested in joining our server and getting to know our community? Feel free to request an invite via the @i-can-read-to-him ask box.

#magicandpizza #shadow and bone #six of crows #wesper #wesper fic club #author spotlight #wfc author spotlight #fanfiction #wylan van eck #jesper fahey #fic recs

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alexisnotstraight · 2 days

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My Chemical Romance for Kerrang, by Tom Bryant and Catherine Yates. 25/09/04

My Chemical Romance will be massive if only Gerard Way can keep it together long enough.

It was in Kansas City that Gerard Way cracked. My Chemical Romance's frontman woke up and wanted to end it all. He'd forgotten how many times he'd woken up depressed in the weeks leading up to that moment, he'd forgotten how many times he'd gone to sleep on a a cocktail of alcohol and pilis and he'd had enough.

Soon after he was in Japan, backstage at Tokyo's Summer Sonic festival. He'd been vomiting in a bin for 10 solid minutes, the result of a sake binge. His band were standing around him not knowing what to do, not knowing how to get through the show, not knowing how their best friend had got himself into this state without them noticing. Then, three days later back in their hometown of New Jersey, the band sacked their drummer, Matt Pelissier. From the outside it had locked as if nothing could stop My Chemical Romance's rise. Their sensational new album, 'Three Cheers For Sweet Revenge', was a culmination of everything they had worked for, a desperate gamble that was paying off phenomenally. Then, suddenly, it all came apart and unravelled dramatically night in front of them.

Today, in New York, Gerard Way is sober and has been for 12 days. He's dressed head to toe in black and he smells bad. It's a potent mixture of the cigarettes that permanently hang from the comer of his mouth and the sweat from yesterday's show. He knows it too.

"You know when it's really bad," he says with a smile. "It's really bad when you disgust even yourself."

He cuts a strange figure, almost as though he doesn't belong inside his own body. His cherubic, baby face is framed by lank, black hair. His shoulders are hunched over a result of a slipped disc and a problematic spine condition-giving him the appearance of a brooding, camp history professor. He looks both too young for his 27 years and too old for them also. His face puts him at roughly 15 years old, his body and strange charisma give him the air of someone who has lived a long life full of weirdness. It's hard to put your finger on him-at times he's stunningly honest, at others he can clam up. He is, though, enormously likeable and naturally intelligent. He also likes to be in control.

"Control is important to me because musically we're so out of control," he says "This band is so on edge that I want everything else in my life to be controlled. I need it to stay sane."

He also worries a lot- "it's the curse of the Ways", he says. Right now he's worrying about that day in Kansas City and what lead him to that state.

"I have the potential to be a fantastic alcoholic," he states bluntly. "I could be really, really good at it. You have to be careful in a band-you can become an alcoholic really quickly, then the booze leads to the pills, the pills lead to the coke and so on. it's all interconnected."

This is a Gerard Way who's turning over a new leaf. For months he'd been hiding his depression and drinking from his band. Today, in front of them, he's happy to talk about it openly to anyone who asks him, it's almost as if just speaking about it is making him feel stronger, making him feel in control of it. It seems a strange condition to have got himself into though, given the potential of his band.

"I hope this doesn't come across as an excuse," he says. "But I think at times people want you to play the part of the fucked-up drunk singer. So you start playing it for a while and then suddenly you realise you're not acting anymore you are that horrible person. That's what I realised in Kansas. I'd been drinking heavily before shows to get myself up and I'd drink more to stay high after the set. Then I'd mave onto pills to bring myself down again. I was constantly trying to artificially control my brain - I thought I could get a real handle on it. Then occasionally I'd start dabbling in other garbage - nothing major but just enough so that I'd got to that point where I was standing on theedge. That's where I was that moming in Kansas."

All the while he is saying this he is looking at each band member. They occasionally look up at him but mostly gaze at the floor - this is painful for them, too. But this is not a shameful admission, instead it's one that Way feels is setting him free, is helping him identify where he went wrong.

"I woke up that moming and I felt completely desperate, I wanted everything to stop I wanted it all to be over. I wanted to freak out, I wanted to smash things and I wanted to hurt myself while I was doing it. I was entirely depressed, suicidal and all that garbage. I warned it all over, all of it... everything."

He phoned a friend who taked him through it, who said that if he could just make it through to Japan then he could come home, he could go back to the therapist he's been seeing for years and could think about rehab. Then he went to each member of the band individually and told them everything.

"We knew he drank too much," says guitarist Ray Toro. "I don't think we realised the full extent of the problem, though. We felt I like, 'What did we miss? Could we have done something sooner?". But don't think Gerard would have listened if we had, I think he had to do it for himself"

"I needed that support," says Way, who did go back into therapy but chose to go cold turkey rather than head into rehab "I'm still scared, though, I worry it could happen again and I could end up dead. When this band started, it saved my life. I got saved, then I went off the rails again and the band come to to my rescue a second time: I hope it's now an excuse to keep stable, because it's all that I have now."

The spirit within in My Chemical Romance is perhaps stronger now than it's ever been. Perhaps it has something to do with Way's honesty towards them, a feeling that they know he can confide his deepest problems to them and that they can be there for him. Perhaps it's because they know that they have written one of the stand-out albums of the year. Either way, this is a band full of confidence, who have no fear of making statements.

"This album gives us a shot," says Way "This gives us a chance to stand up against some really big bands and ask them if they can compete, if they can push the envelope and bring some new ideas."

Their self- belief is phenomenal, but for now it it doesn't doesn't crass into arrogance.

"I don't think we could ever be arrogant," says Toro "Our backgrounds will keep us grounded. We're al working class and I don't think it's in our nature to go that way. I still live at home, my mom still yells at me for playing my guitar too loud - that will tend to keep you grounded."

"But that doesn't mean we don't think we can achieve anything," says fellow guitarist Frank lero "To get to this point means we must be doing something special. I've had a feeling recently. It feels like this dream-the dream of being in a great band has come true through luck, hard work and persistence. If that's possible, then all my other dreams are possible, too."

"Without sounding completely out of my mind," adds Way, "I believe that anything is possible."

It's perhaps this confidence, this belief in their own ability and their ambition to take things further that spelled the end for ex-drummer Matt Pelissier. The band are tight-lipped about what exactly happened.

"I don't want to make things public," says Toro, "We know why we made the decision and we hope he does too. But, from our end, it will stay between Matt and us."

It's not the route Pelissier chose to take. He instantly went on to the band's messageboards. Parts of this post give some reasons as to his departure, but you sense they don't tell the whole story.

"They told me I'm cut of the band because they are uncomfortable with me onstage and they're afraid I'l mess up," he wrote. "I've had some whoppers on a few occasions - I'll never deny I'm human, but we all make mistakes... Do I think I've been shafted? Yeah. What happened to the five brothers that loved each other more than anything else on Earth? I gave up everything for each one of them."

My Chemical Romance don't want to get into a sanging match with their ex-bandmate, but what Toro will say is that, "Musically we know we are stronger now". Then, perhaps more tellingly, "We can look each other in the eye and feel love between us. That's definitely true now".

"If I'm going to say anything about anyone being fired," adds Gerard Way, "then it's that this band is about giving a a shit about each other, about looking people in the fucking eye and knowing you care about them, that they care about you and knowing that's the truth. That's not directed at Matt, that's directed at the whole band."

What it has meant is that the band are on even more of a high, that they finally feel as if all the cogs have fallen into place. Watching them. play at Irving Plaza later that night is a revelation, lero whirls around the stage manically, spinning into amps, mic stands and collapsing on the floor. New drummer Bob, who looked nervous and perhaps felt out of place during the interview - is all smiles. Gerard's younger brother Mikey - the youngest meriber of the band ("He needs a bit of looking after," laughed lero earlier. "I once caught him going into a shower with an electric heater!") - beams at the crowd. The real chemistry live is between Toro's brutally eloquent guitar-lines and Way's all-encompassing charisma.

The frontman stalks the stage like a Southem preacher, goading the crowd, getting in their faces, calling down a hail of fire and brimstone. Toro Is behind him reinforcing his sermon with alternating violence and calm. To watch them here, in their natural habitat, in front of what is virtually a hometown crowd, is to watch a band who will soon be too big for venues like this. A band whose latest release mixes it with the biggest around.

And, providing Gerard Way can keep his head together, a band who might just go all the way.

Written by Tom Bryant

The band of the moment seal their claim to greatness.

If the creative and the commercial don't always have to be mutually exclusive agents in music, then no-one has told yourcodenameis:milo. Fresh from their K! Awards glory, the Newcastle quintet have been a post-hardcore buzzword for a while now. Fine in itself - for those fond of tortuous intricacy and ever more obscure, jarring arrangements, they hit atonal paydirt in style. But their angular contortions make for a dour spectacle that leaves you wondering just how long their new-found major label tenure is going to last.

My Chemical Romance have no such qualms. The final night of their biggest UK tour to date is the hottest ticket in town and it's easy enough to see why. Subverting emo's plaintive self-absorption with a crash and burn bloodrush of black humour and cinematic verve, this New Jersey quintet are a hair-raising breath of blistering immediacy - so much so, that with barely a week in the sales rack, the crowd are hollering out the lyrics to new album 'Three Cheers For Sweet Revenge' as if they were decade-old classics.

Chances are they might stand such a test of time, too. Accessible without being empty, intelligent without the need to

advertise, and able to summon the full metallic KO on demand, they swiftly outmanoeuvre any crude screamo/Goth-punk tag with an exuberant flourish that suggests their sights are set on greater things.

Much of this of course is down to the antics of singer Gerard Way. It's not as if MCR are thin on character, but the frontman makes for compulsive viewing. Clad in a shabby black suit, his eyes smudged crimson, he flails and pitches like an overcranked, clockwork ghoul exuding a freakish yet magnetic charisma. It is, he announces, his 20th show sober, although he infuses the unashamedly teen-core frenzy of 'I'm Not OK (I Promise)' and 'Helena''s bolt -gun swoon with such unhinged theatre you can only wonder what he was like before he nixed the booze.

Though the truncated set (due to the last minute replacement of drummer Matt Pelissier) means their white-knuckle ride runs its course inside of 40 minutes, it's enough to convince most here tonight that this will be a romance worth pursuing.

My Chemical Romance frontman pays homage to metal gods in London boozer.

My Chemical Romance frontman, Gerard Way teamed up with Canadian riff- rock duo Death From Above 1979 at an intimate secret gig at London's Crobar on September 14.

The vocalist hot-footed it to the bar moments after the New Jersey mob's sold-out show at the Mean Fiddler, joining the Toronto twosome onstage for a spirited cover version of Danzig's 1988 classic 'Mother'

"Someone said it would be a good idea to do two shows in one night," explains Death From Above 1979 bassist Jesse F Keeler, who opened for My Chemical Romance on their recent headlining UK tour. "We've been hanging out with them for the last four days and thought it would be cool to do a cover with Gerard."

"We were all talking about how fucking good the jukebox is at the Crobar," Way tells Kerrang! "They've got Danzig's first album on there, so it made sense to do one of his songs. It's been my dream to sing a Danzig song onstage and I loved it."

As well as bonding over a mutual love of the diminutive former Misfits/Samhain frontman, Way, Keeler and DFA drummer Sebastien Grainger have connected, somewhat unusually, over hairdressing.

"The hairstyle Gerard sports is my doing," laughs Keeler. "I'm not a hairdresser by trade, but hairdressing is a bullshit art. Once you know how to do it, it's not difficult. I've dated hairdressers and have cut hair for a decade."

"I love it," says Way, the satisfied customer. "It was a drag to care for. Split ends and everything! It's one of the best haircuts I've ever had. I offered them some beer, but they had plenty."

Written by Catherine Yates

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