#did it all from scratch babeyyy

[wagpastie]

salve made from jewelweed and plantain i harvested !!

[sharkneto]

Dude, you also don’t have a sense of smell?! Same hat! Except we aren’t sure why I don’t. We think it may have been caused by high fevers as a baby… ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

What was something that super surprised you had a smell? I just found out glass and plastic have scents and I am very confused by the concept.

Eyyyyyy you and me! Noseblind to the world! My reason (fell into coffee table while learning to walk and smashed nose) is my assumption, but it could also be it just never developed right (I'm a preemie twin). I have so many questions, I never meet fellow congenital anosmics.

Do people always ask you "oh, so you can't taste anything?" and then you have to go through the whole "No I can taste, my tongue works fine, but I don't get flavors so it's probably a different experience than you but works for me blah blah blah"?

Did you know right away you couldn't smell? It's such an abstract sense, it took literally years for us to figure out that there was nothing happening for me. I took an official smell-test early college, (if you haven't done one it's a glorified scratch-n-sniff and you mark what you think the scent is from 4 options), and scored a solid 11/40! Failure babeyyy!

Can you smell mint? That's like the one thing I get, and it's cool science because it's not the olfactory nerve that's triggered (because its Broken), it's the trigeminal nerve reacting to the menthol in mint! Ammonia also triggers it, which is good for my job where I work with ammonia but it absolutely takes higher concentrations for me to be able to sense it vs anyone with a functional nose.

Glass has a smell???? Plastic makes sense to me, all the chemicals, but glass? Beyond "food was in here and made it stinky"? Someone with a sense of smell please confirm and explain.

I'm so confused by how smell works. I didn't realize you can smell restaurants from outside of the restaurant until I was in college and driving with a roommate and she made a comment about smelling a restaurant as we drove past. Blew my mind. Every once in a while I remember that people can smell what I'm cooking? Baking is not a secret thing you can do? It is a secret thing you can do from me - my old roommate would bake all the time and the other roommates enjoyed that they 'd all comment "oh, you baked!" as they walked through the front door but I wouldn't comment or know about it until I got to the kitchen and saw the baked good. How long does that smell linger? How far does it permeate? The thing I literally learned last night, which is slightly upsetting, is that smells can get through latex gloves. I work with dead animals for my job cleaning skeletons for museums, and my friend was complaining that his hands still smelled like dead mustelid after prepping a mink that afternoon, and I was like "Weren't you wearing gloves?" and he was like "yeah, but they're really stinky, they get through" and I'm just. I'm still shook about that. How. There are gloves. I get clothes and hair smelling from smells, but your hands??? Even with glove???? I don't get it.

[saint-fagula]

chapter 6 babeyyy (sapphic vampire story)

I didn’t realize how much I missed their apartment until I stepped back in there. 

“Hey sluts, I’m home. I brought Flora.” Ramon shouts. I nearly snort when I hear Leonora groan. I assume Leonora has been done with her clownery for years.

Wait. Did she just call me Flora? My very own nickname from the one I love. I’m probably the exact shade as the kool-aid man. Ramon Neri makes my heart hurt. I just love her so much. Everytime I’m with her my heart grows three sizes. The way she loves life is just so contagious. I would sell my soul for her. 

“It’s only fair that I call you me by a nickname too. You can call me Mona.” 

“I,”  Leonora says swaying into the room, “Call her Moan to piss her off.” Ramon sticks her tongue out at them while flipping her off.

They are still glaring at each other when Liliaine heads into the room. He immediately picks up the tension and slaps Ramon on the back of her neck.

“Hey!” They say in perfect unison. Honestly at this point, you could easily convince me that they are twins.

Liliaine just smirks and says “Help our guest, why don’t ya?” Before I could even deny the help, Ramon had already grabbed my bag and my hand. 

She leads me into this large closet. When I say a large closet I mean a tiny ass room with a water bed. There’s a dim light bulb flickering up above the bed. The walls are bare and you can see where screws used to be. But it's home. It’s my home. I think the only time I was this happy was when I met Tré Cool. 

Ramon helps me unpack. I mean, really all we do is tape up my posters. All my clothes are going to stay in the bag. Cause, like, there’s no dresser. It’s a little less depressing once I take my guitar out

She’s mangled but she’s still a beaut. It’s a 50’s stratocaster. I named her Frankie. Anyone could see the poor shape it’s in. There are scratches everywhere and the body’s chipped. I’m pretty sure there is glitter on there, don’t know how but there is. The stickers have been ripped but she holds a lot of memories. Somehow, a goddamn miracle that’s how it's playable. Some of the strings have snapped but the neck is still in one piece. 

Ramon is in awe. She cried out “You have a 50’s stratocaster?! Holy shit, she’s an absolute darling. Can’t say she’s as clean as a whistle though.” Ramon examines the guitar until she sees the large chip missing in the body and the snapped strings. She holds it to her chest protectively and threatens “You don’t deserve it. Look at the poor thing; it has a chip the size of Texas in it!” 

I put my hands up defensively. “In my defense, your honor, it was for the aesthetic.” She glares at me as if I killed her puppy. 

Liliaine waltzes into the room and gasps. If you had no context you would assume that I murdered someone. “The poor child! It looks like someone put it through a meat grinder.” 

Ramon nods aggressively.  “You should’ve seen me after the show. You would wish I had the same treatment as Frankie.”

Once again I realize that probably didn’t help my case, but in fact made it worse. Now they stare at me in horror. I start scratching my neck. I should’ve shut my mouth. Now look at them, they think I’m insane. The only friends you could have had are now lost because you proved to them you have the self preservation as a toddler learning to walk. They now think they have to supervise you. I panic to myself. I’m never going to forget this in a bad way.

But instead of being ridiculed or lectured, Ramon laughs. Her beautiful dorky laugh. She’s the best person in  the world. I love her more than anything. I love her more than Frankie, more than music itself. I love the way her hair always falls perfectly into place. I love how she only wears intense amounts of eyeliner and glitter. I love her. I can’t believe I’ve fallen, it’s only been two days. Yet here we are laughing like we’re high on my makeshift bed. If only I could kiss her. I have a hundred problems but marrying Ramon could solve 73. God, I’m so in love. 

“How good are you?” Liliaine questioned. It wasn’t meant in a degrading way.

“What do you mean by that? Like how would you gauge it?” I ask trying not to sound stupid.

“Like what are you working on or your personal hardest song to play? For example, I’m working on the guitar solo in Master of Puppets and I think my hardest song is,” He takes a second to think. He must be great at guitar. “Aviator of feat.”

“Rad. I’m learning Our Lady of Sorrows and Battery is the hardest I can play.”

“That’s impressive! I tried being a guitarist but I got kicked out because I couldn’t play House of the Rising Sun.” Ramon chimed. I laugh at the thought of her struggling to play one of the easiest riffs. I bet they would find a way to look effortless while failing horribly. “But I can sing.” She continues. 

“Yeah, as good as a three year old in the school choir.” Lilliane retorts.

Ramon, like a child, sticks her tongue out at Liliaine. God I love her. 

“Then you wouldn’t have me as lead” Ramon retorts.

“Are you guys in a band or something?” I ask.

“Yeah, we are actually. We’re called The Famous Living Dead. Yours truly,” Ramon flutters her eyelashes. “Is lead singer, the rat of a sibling is bassist, and Lilliane is, as you know, our guitarist.”

The name sounds familiar. I can’t put a finger on it though. 

“‘Spite the name, we aren't that popular nor dead. Our biggest fans are the drunks who sing incoherently, hoping it sounds like the lyrics.” Liliane snorts.

“When do you play next, I’ll come.” I really want to see Ramon sing. I’ll bet my life on her having a beautiful voice. “Wait, I thought vampires were classified as ‘dead’ or ‘not alive’?” I ask while doing air quotations.

Liliane freezes. Ramon immediately whispers something in his ear. He relaxes a little but not fully. I understand. I know a secret that could ruin his life. 

“We could show you know! I could get us to practice live with you.” Ramon says changing the subject

Liliane whips his head around so fast I think he got whiplash. “What.” He quickly turns to me, ”Give us a second please.” His voice dripped with anger and confusion. Liliane was whisper-yelling at Ramon who just deflected everything with ‘yeah and’. 

Eventually, they settled on fine. Ramon yelled for Leonora to get ready for band practice. Which required a quick recap of what they discussed. 

After what felt like millions of years, they were ready. I felt like bouncing off the walls. I’m so excited. I love concerts. I love the way everyone here understands  you and how you can get lost in the music. You sometimes get live demos or a little story. 

“What should we start with?” Lilliane asks.

Leonora jumps up a little bit and says “Enchantment.”

They all smile and nod. They begin to play, and holy motherfucking shit. They are great. It’s loud, it’s crunchy, it’s fast, and it’s my new favorite band. The song is angry and slutty. It’s an overall mood. As the song ends I find myself yearning for more. I’m pretty sure I’m grinning like an idiot because Ramon looks so happy.  

So they play more and more. By the time they’re too tired to play another song, I have already sworn my devotion to them. The slutty vampire tones absolutely vibe with me. I would kill to be in their band. The music sounded like it was missing a part. Like there was supposed to be another melody. Maybe they lost a member. 

Ramon looked sweaty as hell. She poured every ounce of her soul into that performance. She screamed, danced, and cried all in the span of two hours. Everything was so emotional and I loved it.

 Even when sweaty, Ramon was still stunning. Her hair was perfectly plastered on her face. Her make was glittery and smeared. Ramon was panting and looked halfway to death yet her eyes sparkled like the stars. I love her and I know she doesn’t love me the same. She’s dead, I’m alive.

[ooklet]

encouragement to gush about my wife?? DON’T MIND IF I DO

the original post where i talked about it the most is here but reblogging it puts the whole thing under a cut and this is my personal blog so no more courtesy cuts for irl stuff, especially not for this specific irl stuff. aw yeah babeyyy we’re rewriting this thing from scratch for EXTRA GUSHING! you even get proper capitalization, a thing i usually don’t have the energy to do, that is how important it is.

So Azaya and I met on GoS in 2008. And by “met” I mean we made googly eyes at each other from across the forum for months, both desperately looking for any excuse to interact despite convincing ourselves that the other was just Too Cool for us and wouldn’t want to be friends. For context, I would strategically salt her content through my picture posts in the hopes that she would notice and comment, and she signed up to assist with a steampunk content curation list that I had also signed up for, despite not actually using any steampunk content in her game.

We did eventually manage to nut up and talk to each other, and our official meetcute was that I sent her a message on AIM back when my username was "Alert Interpol” in reference to the band Interpol (I had bad taste), but because she was actively torrenting an album at the time, she very briefly thought I was the fucking international police. (But the cops don’t usually start messages with ‘omg hi i love your sims content’ so we cleared it up fairly quickly.)

We hit it off super fast. Like, frequently-stay-up-all-night-talking-even-though-she-had-work-at-six-in-the-morning fast. We both tend toward having a very small group of close friends but it usually takes years for either of us to reach that point, but it was maybe eight months before we were calling each other a best friend.

The jump from ‘a’ best friend to ‘the’ best friend happened when we started writing together. I had been in an RPG that dissolved and was missing collaborative writing. Azaya hadn’t been in any RPGs but used to write with a friend when she was younger, so we decided to give it a try together. As writers, we worked really well together. We started out writing some very casual, silly stuff, but ultimately stumbled into a story about parasitic space gods and the looming apocalypse in which an obligate cannibal demon and her human witch girlfriend try to save the world without getting ritually sacrificed. We wrote several different iterations on the main story and a bunch of branching AUs that amounted to literally hundreds of thousands of words.

Regardless of the changing set dressing, the core of our writing was the two main characters, and their relationship. No matter the setting, the two of them always fell in love and, as a result, we spent a lot of time talking about how the two of them specifically were in love as it changed over the course of our writing, but also just love in general. We were both in abusive relationships at the time, and we’d each convinced ourselves that it didn’t get any better than that and we deserved the treatment that we were getting. We could each see what was happening to the other and were fucking livid about it, but we couldn’t internalize it for ourselves. Like, I could very clearly see that her boyfriend was dog shit and she deserved so much better, but I would still make excuses for why what was happening to me was acceptable and deserved. And it was the same for her. But because we talked to each other so much about these characters of ours being in love, and what we thought love should look like, we always had this kind of inadvertent framework for what it was that we truly wanted hanging out in the back of our minds. And eventually it clicked for the both of us that like, yeah I fucking do deserve a soulmate, and this douchebag I’m wasting my time on certainly isn’t it.

Even after that, it was several months of making awkward eyes at each other (again). Like, we had both put the pieces together about who it was we wanted, but we were both shit terrified of making things irrevocably weird by being like ‘oh by the way I’m in love with you and I think I have been from literally the moment we met but I didn’t realize it until a few months ago haha isn’t that funny unless you think that’s weird in which case forget I said anything’. We got our shit together eventually and confessed our extremely mutual love, and knew pretty immediately this was headed marriage-ward. We didn’t really need to date when we had already spent so many countless hours talking about who and what we wanted. We wanted to be in love with our best friend, we wanted to get married, we wanted that ‘til death shit. It was only a few months before we got engaged and I think a year and a half in total before we got married. Equal marriage hadn’t passed the supreme court yet, but when the state right next to mine passed it, we hauled ass to the courthouse.

We got a lot of push-back from family, some of it valid (‘this seems kind of fast, y’all sure about this?’), and some of it extremely invalid (‘I think you’re going to want to be with a man ultimately so why don’t the two of you just date so it’ll be easier to break things off when that happens!’). We needed external support, and we wanted to be able to build a strong foundation, so we went to couple’s counseling right away, which I cannot recommend highly enough. Azaya and I had pretty unique circumstances in a lot of ways, so the few times people have asked us for relationship advice, it’s hard to give any sort of universal ‘do this, not that’, but I really do earnestly believe every couple should go to counseling at some point. I can’t say how valuable it is to have someone objective to give you constructive feedback and help to guide you in figuring out the best ways to communicate with each other. Having someone in our corner like that is how we were able to hit the ground running.

This October it’ll have been ten years of this ‘til death shit and I am so fucking pumped for all the years to come. I just love her so, so much. So much more, every single day. She’s everything I wanted and more. I literally cannot imagine life without her, nor do I want to. There’s going to come a day when we’ve been married longer than we haven’t, when I’ve spent the majority of my life on earth with her, and I cannot fucking wait.

TL;DR: Thanks for the soulmate, The Sims 2. 10/10 would marry her again.

[linkspooky]

The Monkey King vs the Budha

Gojou and Toji are rivals and complete opposites in everything, even in the mythological stories that both of their characters reference. Toji referencing Sun Wukong (the Monkey King) and Gojou representing the Budha himself. I’ll be going over the mythological references in their characters under the cut.

1. Journey to the West

The journey to the west is one of china’s four great classical novels. It’s an ancient allegory for enlightenment. Though not the main character, the first seven chapters are dedicated to Sun Wukong, the monkey king, a trickster type character who made it his mission to disrupt the order of heaven. There’s a very long and simplified summary of the legend, here. 

There are several in story references to the legend. Toji refers to himself as a monkey for not being able to use Jujutsushiki. Toji, much like Sun Wukong is an exile from the heavenly order. In this setting, the analog for heavenly order or the keepers of the peace is Shaman Society as a whole and the four great noble families system. 

Toji is the strongest possible a human can get without using Jujutsu Sorcery. If Getou refers to all humans who aren’t sorcerers as monkeys, that makes Toji symbolically king of the monkeys. Son Wukong possessed an immortal body. Toji is brought back from the dead because the special quality of his body won out against the soul when it was transformed. 

Toji also ends up using a bo staff to fight that extends or compresses based on whether or not the four pieces connected by chains are together. Sun Wukong’s most famous and iconic weapon was a staff that could change size. 

The staff itself is called ‘playful cloud’, Sun Wukong is also famous for flying on top of a cloud. 

Gojou is symbolically the Budha for a separate reason, first he’s a character who revolves around the idea of attaining personal enlightenment. He quotes the Budha himself. 

In Chinese and especially Japanese Buddhism, the statement 天上天下唯我独尊 (Japanese tenjou tenge yui ga dokuson; not sure about the Chinese transliteration), which is typically translated as "On heaven and earth, I alone am honored", is considered to be a well-known statement of the Buddha, spoken when the Buddha first emerged from his mother's womb. The quote is sometimes truncated to just the latter half 唯我独尊 "I alone am honored".

This is specifically a statement that the budha first said when he emerged from his mother’s womb. Gojou is someone shown to be special from the moment he was born. 

In Journey to the West as a result of attaining enlightenment, the budha is one with everything. Gojo’s special ability is seeing everything, into the void because of his six eyes. His territorial expansion is essentially forcing that enlightenment on others, look at the line Jogo uses when caught up in it “I can see everything, I can feel everything!” that’s enlightenment, babeyyy!!!

In Journey to the West, Sun Wukong fought against the Jade Palace and the Emperor of Heaven, until eventually the Budha was called to settle things with him. 

The Budha made a wager with Sun Wukong. If he could successfully jump out of the palm of his hand then he could become the new king of heaven. Sun Wukong jumps off of his hand and makes it all the way to the edge of the universe. He sees five pillars at the end of the universe. He fights grafittis the pillar and then jumps back to the Budha. The budha reveals his hand and shows the same grafitti, as a result of attaining enlightenment the budha is one with everything in the universe therefore no matter where Sun Wukong went he would always be in the palm of his hand. The budha then defeated Sun Wukong and sealed him under a mountain.

Gojou and Toji fight for similar reasons. Toji could have made his escape but he wants to fight Gojo over his pride to prove that he’s the strongest. Gojo as a result of nearly dying against Toji in their first round, has attained enlightenment and because of that Toji can’t possibly win against him. 

2. Opposites Attract

Gojou and Toji are opposites always meant to oppose one another. Toji eventually became a rogue mercenary who took great pleasure in killing sorcerers to prove his family wrong about him. Gojou is someone who holds basically the entire Jujutsu World on his back and wants to raise other sorcerers to be as strong, or stronger than him. Gojou is the one groomed to be superior from childhood, Toji was made to feel inferior. Gojou uses his power selflessly, almost always making himself a tool for the sake of others. Toji is someone who acted selfishly, for the sake of money, pride, eschewing other people’s values for his own twisted ones. 

However, they both have a unique understanding of one another. Toji says the first and last time anyone was aware of his presence was when he visited Gojo as a child. Gojo is defined by how untouchable he is, the last person to even put a scratch on him was Toji. 

There’s actually a lot about Toji and Gojou that is similar making them poised to understand each other. Toji is also a one of a kind genius, specifically because he was born with a body that eradicates curse energy. Toji was always powerful, he was just mocked and belittled because he didn’t fit into the mold of Jujutsu society. 

They’re just geniuses, it’s just that Gojo was born to fit the mold of the ideal jujutsu sorcerer, from a family, carrying the technique of his main family, and Toji breaks that same mold. 

Gojo and Toji are also two people who didn’t have to be on bad terms. Their conflict represents the families they were born into. The Gojo and the Zen’in have always been on bad terms as revealed to us recently. They’re both individuals shaped by the households they were born into, and they also carry the conflict between those two households on their shoulders. 

Gojo and Toji are characters who value their strength above everything else. However, Toji lives trying to deny his pride and destroy it because he hates everything the Jujutsu world values. 

Toji’s referred to as the “one who threw everything away”. It’s revealed in his extras that after Megumi’s mother died, he tried to stop caring about everything which is why he distanced himself from his son. 

Toji is the extreme result of Gojou’s rampant individualism, in a different way than Sukuna is. Toji is strong, but his strength never really matters. He failed to protect Megumi’s mother. He was going to sell Megumi to the clan. He only ends up all alone because of his decision to value strength above all else and throw everything away. 

Gojo is also someone who despite being the strongest, fails to protect others. He wasn’t able to save Geto from his breakdown. He failed to save Rika before that. For both characters even though they believe the only good thing about themselves is their strength, strength is not everything to them. 

Megumi is the connecting knot that ties between them. 

Toji, who is eternally bitter about other jujutsu sorcers being born with what he didn’t have, named his son blessings. Toji who tried his best to stop caring about anybody besides himself...

Can’t ever deny the part of himself that loves his son. Even his attempt to sell him to the Zen’in household while grossly misguided and irresponsible, was also out of a wish that growing up in that household would be better than what a jaded and disaffected deadbeat of a dad Toji was could give him all alone after Megumi’s mother died. 

Toji is genuinely happy when he learns that Megumi has had a better life than he had. Which once again ties back to Gojo. Gojo and Toji are characters who live mostly for themselves, but the best parts about them are what they give to other people. Toji’s most redeeming quality was his affection for his son, and his genuine wish for Megumi to have a blessed, better life than he did. Gojo went out of his way to protect Megumi from the Zen’in family. They’re both opposite in so many ways, but Megumi is their connecting thread. Both, Gojo and Toji want to give him a better world, and a better life than the one they grew up in. 

[madmadmilk]

Like  Dark Chocolate Part 7 | Tom Holland x Reader (FINALLY)

IT’S BEEN A LONG TIME COMING, BUT WE’RE BACK IN THE GAME BABEYYY. Thank u for waiting so patiently~ it literally took like 6 months lol pls be kind ((pics not mine))

READ THE TEASER FIRST | PART 1 | PART 2| PART 3 | PART 4 | PART 5 | PART 6 | PART 7 | PART 8 | (Updates next week?)

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Summary: You can’t help but fall into something familiar, something warm, something you deserve. He’s been waiting for you while you’ve been wondering. They say time heals all wounds, but the real question is, how much time does it take to even believe you’ve healed?

Warning: Swearing, sweating, and something like forgiveness

Word Count: 10.8K petals on the floor

Special thank you to some of my lovely BETAs: @fangirl-writer-awesomeness @laucontrerasv @spidey-waffles11 (and honestly anyone who sent asks looking for this. thank you)

-

“Same old Tom.”

Your head tilts as you look into those familiar chocolatey browns. You can see the arrow run straight through his heart. It’s the first time he’s hearing your voice say his name in a month. And it’s one of the few times you’ve let yourself say it out loud.

There’s a familiar taste that coats your mouth.

I don’t want to admit it but––

A shallow breath catches in your throat, a faint smile on your lips. You just can’t hold it back anymore, old feelings threatening to spill over.

I do miss you, Tom.

They were never really forgotten.

Just a little bit.

And well, you could never hide it from yourself.

You fight the smile on you dry lips from widening, you fight the warm flush ferociously crawling up your chest, you fight every urge in your body from jumping up to wrap yourself up and all around him.

You missed him.

And the bare sight of him is enough to drive you mad.

“It’s been a long time.”

“It has been,” you reply curtly, eating up the sight before you. He was dressed in a rush, slouchy, ruffled but smelling like a cosy detergent and sexy shampoo. The giddy smile has never left his lips.

The space between you both is maddening, easy to be made close, easy to pull further apart.

Your fingers twitch by your sides.        

Ha.

He probably can’t even remember the text he sent you–– “Blink 3 times if you miss me,” how the hell would you count how many times a person blinks? We do it all the time? When does the clock run––

But, Tom… Tom gets it. Of course he does.

1, 2, 3. 1, 2, 3.1, 2, 3.

A devilish grin stretches across his boyish face, an overwhelming excitement vibrating through him. He stood taller, shoulders hunched up as he leaned forward. It was a short victory he would hold against you and then it evenly faded into a relieved smile. The corners of his brows pull down as he lets out a soft sigh. You can hear the click of his tongue. His shoulders slump in satisfaction, and cheeks pinken as if his whole body being was saying, “thank god, thank god.”

He finally has your attention, better, at your admission.

His quiet voice confirms,

“So you have been reading the things I’ve sent you,” whispering now, “And listening?”

Haha.

You give him a blank stare, but inadvertently stretch your lips from smile to pucker to smile. You’re trying not to give him anything more than your telling blinks. You’re not going to make yourself anymore vulnerable, any more needy, any more…. generous. This was already too much.

But the silence gives him one more confirmation; tells him that you still think of him, at least enough to let him think you do. And this circular rationale reminds you of just how much of a sweet lil cavity he is.

An aching pain you can’t ignore.

He nods, wiggling his jaw while his eyes dance over your shoulders to your nose and back to your eyes,

“Good to know.”

Oh, hell.

Tom’s confidence comes and goes as he laughs to himself, only to flush in embarrassment. Neither of you can keep your composure. Both of your minds roll over all the little things he’s said in the messages and that’s more than enough to fill the remaining gap between you.

You feel like you know almost everything he’s feeling right now.

Almost, almost.

He clears his throat, scratching his head and bowing down,

“Listen, I–I really didn’t expect to see you at all. For the while. It’s just that Mal messaged me about an emergency, just saying that it was you and––“

“It was me. I sent it,” you clarify, not wanting to smear any more blame on your ill neighbor. Hadn’t she had enough? Questionably.

“I used her phone.”

“Oh,” he laughs emptily. You see his entire face sink in guilt. He scratches his head a little harder, trying to piece it together.

“She practically begged me to get your attention and she––“ he hums to your truth, “She showed it to me. I… I saw the messages she sent to you.”

Tom freezes, and drops his hand. He searches for an answer in your eyes. His blinks are slow, and the deep stare makes you all too aware.

Suddenly, you wonder if that was a breach of his privacy, if his healing should have been done alone. If you had stepped into a part of him you weren’t meant to see.

You step forward, putting your hands up.

“Sorry! Uhm, she… She let me read what she sent you, at the end… end of it all,” an uneasy chuckle falls past your lips, “She left your conversation open… and yeah, I saw a little bit. I think she was apologizing to me with it… or something like that.”

He nods, stare looking past you now, far away. He mutters under his breath,

“I’m still waiting for one too.”

And now you felt the restlessness of guilt; maybe it was a breach of trust. You squeeze your eyes tight for a second, trying to reorganize yourself, trust this and trust that. You’re getting tangled deeper into problems you were trying so hard to move past, smooth past.

The truth is all you have left.

You offer him a way out of the storm, praising softly,

“At the very least, I want to say thank you… for uhm, letting me know you were coming.”

His brows twitch into a furrow before he smiles gently, his cheek pulling.  His hands were itching to reach out, to hold you. And, honestly, if he did… you wouldn’t resist too hard. Maybe.

“Of course,” Tom confirms so lovingly. In that short phrase you can hear the tumbling of his feelings, the way he had to hold back from spilling his heart out and taking all of you in his arms, up and away from this cursed apartment.

But you both hear the echo of your own words, cast like a spell, “give me time.” So he did.

“And…. I’ll be getting out of your hair now.”

Your head tilts as you take him all in. His hair has dried, somewhere between curls and waves, the bags under his eyes are deep but the expression on his face is warm. You notice his pause, wondering if you should ask him to stay.

You can’t.

And he knows that.

Tom cracks into a laugh, rolling his head in a circle. You stand back on your heels, tension dissipating. He rocks back too, and starts to pick up his scattered jacket and hat. He puts them on quickly and you lean against the back of the couch. The apartment is quiet, save for the sound of his rustling clothes.

He heads to the door, ruffling his hair before he sticks it back under his cap. His hand is on the doorknob, cranking it slowly. He turns back to give you a dazzling smile,

“It was really, really amazing to see you again.”

You stomach flips. You can only nod and smile, as he holds your gaze. He looks down stepping out and––

“Hey! Tom?”

He looks over his shoulder expectantly, and you take the door. He’s still halfway inside your apartment, and sorely full in your heart. He raises his brow in question, stuffing his hands in his pockets as you hold the door open for him.

Here it goes.

“I… I stayed around because… I kind of wanted to see you.”

His jaw drops.

“It was nice.”

And that goddamn heart-stopping grin is burned into your memory. You could see the sunshine and hope leaking out of his pores as he smiles with an open mouth.

Ooh.

And with a boyish chuckle, he accepts.

“Thank you, Y/N,” the flushing boy turns back and retreats with a happy skip,

“I’ll see you around.”

My name.

You don’t let yourself watch him walk away for too long, and shut the door quickly. Similarly, trying to shut out the emotions welling in your chest. Warm, worn, weak.

If Mal was awake, listening, or even remotely on “your side” you could just imagine her slow clapping to that awkward exchange.

You and Tom had finally moved forward; maybe they were baby steps. Or maybe they were even something less.

Anything is better than where you were nearly a month ago.

You retreat back to the couch and sink into your spot, alone with your rambling thoughts. Are we in, or are we out? Are we back? Is there more? Are we less––?

Gah.

You laugh as you wipe your hands over your face. You pull your cheeks down and let out a garbled sigh.

It’s really annoying how much you miss the taste of chocolate.

-

☎️ “Hey, It’s Tom. Again. Uhm, alright… This…. This feels ten times MORE awkward now that I know that you actually listen to these. Haha, shit! And I’ve sounded so pathetic in every single message–– hahaha, but, uhm, thanks. Not sure what part I’m thanking you for… but… I’m just thankful for you. Hah, hope that’s okay. I really just can’t believe I got to see you. It’s really been a long while, and I… I just wasn’t sure how we were even going to meet again. And, I realized I don’t have many pictures of you and you haven’t updated ANYTHING so––– oh, oh my god. I didn't mean to sound so fucking creepy! I swear I’m not checking on you everyday or something, hahahaha. Wah! I–– well. I don’t think i’ll ever forget what you look like, and I hope you’ll let me stick around……………… ugh, I’m the worst. For fucks sake. Hm….. you…. You really did look amazing, babe. I couldn’t breathe. And maybe you look even better without me……. Ahem. Ah, yeah. Sorry this is a fucking, that I’m a fucking mess. I’ll leave you be. Yeah. I’ll-- uhm, later. Bye, Y/N. I’ve missed you too.”

-

☎️ “Hey! Hey, uhm, It’s me. Tom. Again, again. Haha. Okay, uhm, totally slipped my mind, but I’ll be at Jay and Jae’s wedding like next, next week. Harrison said you were going as his date? Yeah, no problem with that. Just– uh, yeah. Just letting you know i’ll be there too. I know Mal, is invited so, she might be around? I’m not too sure. And… shouldn’t Zendaya be back around that time? Hahaha. Yeah, i–– This is just a heads up. I…. I won’t bother you there but…. Can i say that i’m looking forward to seeing you again so soon? Because I am….. Ooooohhhh….. Okay. Yeah, sorry. I’ll see you there, or not. Bye, babe.”

-

You smooth out your dress over your legs as you sit in a stiff chair. You kick your feet next to Harrison, lost on his phone. He ignores your fidgeting.

True to Tom’s voicemails, that you did listen to the moment you got them, you were at a wedding. Together, but not exactly. Jay and Jae were distant friends of yours, closer to Tom and his group of friends more than anyone else.

So naturally, Tom was there, sitting alone and far off, since Harrison took you as his date. He kept a professional distance, you would say.

Now, Mal was meant to be here too–– but she wasn’t. She declined without giving a specific reason, but you could imagine a few. The idea of fluffy bright whites, bouncy chatter and the honest glow of fairy lights might not shine too well on her particular shade of red.

Not that she doesn’t deserve her own sparkly moment in time, but you suppose this is all too fresh. And all too soon.

You reach out to touch the flowers wrapped around the chair in front of you. Were they real? Were they fake? You occupied yourself like this, and wondered…. Should you be feeling the same way as Mal?

Your eyes dart around, following strings of lights and greenery and warm sounds. Being at weddings, whether you knew the party well enough or not, has always made you feel loved. There's a certain warmth and love and respect that just overflows and spills into your own heart. Making you nostalgic for things you’ve never felt before.

So lovely.

Your thumbs smooth over a large petal.

And a ceremony like this…. Isn’t that bad. One day…

Your eyes flicker up, immediately finding that curious cute cavity.

One day maybe.

Tom is sitting with his arms resting on his legs. He switches between looking up, waving at distant friends and checking his phone, only to put it away quickly. He’s fidgeting too– trying his hardest not to look directly back at you.

You still catch him a few times.

You lean back, obscuring yourself from his view and  line up your arm with Harrison. You lean your head on his shoulder and laugh to yourself, pressing a fist against your lips to stifle it.

“Hm?” Harrison hums, craning his neck to see your face, “What’s so funny?”

You quiet down and smile gently. Curiosity is bubbling inside you and you feel like you’re in such high spirits–– the giddy nature of weddings is infectious, after all.

Is it because you feel like you have the upper hand tonight? Because Tom is trying so hard to not stare, but is so bad at hiding it? Because you feel like nothing can go wrong from this point?

Knock on wood.

Having Harrison by your side definitely feeds you a bit of confidence, at his expense. But you don’t think of that immediately. Things are only just coming to focus for you, and you eyes are willing to see.

You squeeze Haz’s arms softly, and suggest,

“Shall we invite him over?”

The golden haired boy scoffs, cocking his head back before looking at you,

“You sure about that?”

“‘Can’t leave him looking like a chump all by himself, right?”

He smiles at your thoughtfulness, raising his eyebrows then standing up. He calls over his friend quickly without much question. Tom perks up at the call of his name, and you could see his eyes widen across the ways.

He shimmies his way over, dodging people with a easygoing smile. He stands next to Haz, nodding his head politely,

“Hey, guys.”

“Hey, come sit with us,” you offer plainly, pointing beside Harrison.

You could see Tom doing the math in his head, but he doesn’t challenge it. He smiles instead, a little wary and a little stiff but thanks you. You could hear Harrison snort in dull annoyance, making you giggle.

You’re giddy for real.

Haz is sat between you two during the wedding ceremony, but you can feel whenever either of them turn to look at you, hot stares on your cheek. You all sit and stand together, following the procession.

“Is it hot in here, or is it just me?” the taller boy teases over the tension, bumping you with his elbow. You bump him back and he continues, “I’m in the line of fire.”

“Shut up!” you whisper back to him, catching Tom’s attention.

He turns to you, only like quarter cheek, but you can see the side of his eye wrinkle and how his cheek lift in a smile. You’re left looking at the teasing image of his jaw and ear and cheek and the tangle of waves on the nape of his neck––

Bring the heat.

The ceremony ambles on, and in the lull you hear Tom joke with Haz,

“Can’t wait for the drinks, man.”

Pffft.

His face was dusted pink. He needed something to keep him cool, something to do with his hands, and it might as well take the edge off too. It really couldn’t do much harm at this point. But would it even help with his nerves?

You stop yourself from giggling again, some kind of ancient, wretched, cliche girliness crawling out from you. You’re trying to play coy, but you can’t go exposing yourself.

Is this what it’s like to be wanted? And know you’re wanted?

Feels a little nice to be on this end, you have to admit.

You pull through the rest of the service, crying as the grooms whisper their vows to one another. Honestly you could barely hear it, but the way that they cried and smiled and cheered told you everything you needed to know.

Your heart swells as they kiss and walk by, everyone throwing handfuls of petals over them. It rains pink and white, a small flurry of love.

And while you take in the loving visual, you miss the way that a certain brunette turns back to catch a glimpse of you. Through the light mist of flowers, he sees a happy tear mark down your cheek and wishes nothing more than to be by your side and wipe it away.

“Catch you in a few,” comes Harrison’s voice and parting tap on your shoulder.

“Huh?” you blink, rubbing the corners of your eyes delicately.

He smiles, tilting his head towards company calling his name. He disappears into the crowd after giving your shoulder a squeeze and Tom a sharp pat on the back.

Ah, alone at last. You roll your eyes and nod to yourself.

There’s a wave of people leaving the ceremony to walk over to the reception hall, but you end up waiting in your row with Tom. You step close to his back, peering over him to see if it would be any easier to get out. You don’t talk.

After a while of being stuck, you both dart between chairs and exit the opposite way. You feel his hand almost touch the small of your back as he urges your way through.

The touch doesn’t connect, but a part of you wish it had.

You laugh bitterly as you push through the doors that lead out. It’s more than a bit ironic that you meet again at a wedding. The place of commitment and love and attempt at eternal happiness.

It’s kind of funny actually.

You step onto the sidewalk, shivering slightly at the cool spring weather. The smell of spring and summer was strong, but your teeth still chattered.

You stand side by side as you wait to cross the street, cars zipping through. You’re too aware of the space you hold between each other. You hold your hands to your chest and look ahead to the reception hall, glittery lights and soft noise wafting through.

“That was beautiful,” Tom comments quietly.

“Wasn’t it?” you smile, brought back to those glimmering emotions. You blink the wetness away from your eyes as you face him for a moment.

I’m such a sucker.

His hair is gelled back neater than usual, though a rogue curl tries to coil at the side of his head.

For…. things………..

“Mhm,” he hums, returning your gaze warmly. Those dark browns caught a twinkle the evening glow. Your heart beats oddly, as your lips pressed together. Tom smiles then taps the back of your arm, looking ahead of you.

“Let’s cross this street now.”

And you walk behind him, following his steps while skipping in your formal shoes, watching the broad sweep of his back in a smart black jacket.

You felt safe here.

Again.

-

Tom stood by your side as you crossed the threshold of the reception hall. The clack of your shoes against the hardwood didn’t catch any new attention but it sounded so fucking loud to you.You felt his shoulders roll back, as yours did, taking in the beautiful sight. Fairy lights and flowers and white drapery, hidden and highlighted by crowds of people. Wah.

You turn your cheek softly to look at him, your lashes fluttering. He was doing the same thing, both cautious of what to do and what to say next. You can’t stand at the entrance forever.

Oh, fuck it all––

“Hey! Tom! Is that you–?” a new voice crackles into range. Said boy ducks down and hollers back to an unfamiliar crowd, stepping away from you.

“Y/N!” and that call was for you, from a blonde you could hardly call yours.

You bounce back to Harrison, quickly hooking your arms into his without thinking. You wanted cover, fast.

Tom’s presence beside you was short lived as you went separate ways to greet some familiar faces, to your frail relief. You both get swept away in the tides of people, hardly saying goodbye to one another. Hm. You look back over your shoulder to see Tom smiling back at you gently. Hmm. He nods simply, then turns away.

See you later.

You suck in your cheeks, feeling a pang of disappointment as your expectations didn’t last long. But it’s fine. It’s fine. You weren’t even counting on spending the time that you did with him. Its fine! Really!

You float between hanging out with Harrison to meeting up with some old friends. Eventually starting to be dragged away by some especially gossip-y pals, Jenn and Sam. You hold on to Harrison’s arm as they tug you away,

“Nooooooo, guys, I can’t leave him by himself!”

Haz pries your fingers off one by one, sticking his tongue out and pointing behind him,

“Don’t worry about me, I have some other chumps to hang out with.”

You tilt your head for a second to see Tom, of course, looking down. His hands are stuffed deep into his pockets, laughing to himself, a pretty smile you wish you could have ignored. There’s a little unease that you notice about him too quickly, and that’s when you bounce back up.

Ha.

“Enjoy,” you say quietly, quite literally being pulled to the bar.

Conversation blends in seamlessly, with the help of some casual alcohol and swishy dancing. You haven’t met with them in along time, catching up and dissecting updates you’ve only seen through instagram and facebook. Then that drama starting spilling out as you look deeper into your cup, seeing where it all was heading….

“So, I heard Tom and Mal officially split,” Sam starts.

“Tom and Mal? They were a thing?” Jenn gasps.

“Yeah, official-ish–– right, Y/N? You roomin’ with Mal right now, yeah?”

And you nodded, “Yeah.”

“And they’re over? Done?”

Their eyes both shone bright with excitement, nearly licking their lips for the spill. Please, oh please! Share that shit!

You hold your shakey glass to your lip, wishing you didn’t have to answer this. But under their wide eyed stares and the desire to speak some truth, you squeak,

“Yeah, something like that.”

And they assume the pitying position quickly with,

“Oh, poor Tom. I knew he’d get dumped. He’s too nice and Mal was obviously taking advantage of that––”

And,

“Oh, well, I heard that Mal was just trying to use him to get back with someone.”

“Like, Jon, right? Or was it Tobey? I don’t remember––”

“Yeah, and Tom isn’t the type to date frivolously, so he must have known––”

Their story was wrong, but not so wrong. Just enough to get you itching. Itching to set it straight  and itching about whether or not you had the authority to correct them. Like what, just save Tom’s face, and tell them that Mal got what she deserved? That could be easy. But what happens when they ask about your role in this story–– is it even yours to tell?

“They did look great together though, Tom was head over heels for that bitch.”

“How could she let him go? I mean, the girl was all over everyone all the time, but Tom was a good one.”

They looked for him in the crowd, spotting him and cooing in pity. They were being so obvious, god. And at this point, you really couldn’t help yourself. You spoke in a hushed tone,

“Hm, actually, Tom dumped Mal.”

“Huh? For real?” and “Tells us what happened!”

You pause for a second, trying not to get in too deep.

“I don’t know for sure, but Tom realized he could… be better.”

“‘Be’ better? Not ‘do’ better? What do you mean by that?” Sam pushes, leaning closer to you, stepping by your side so you could both get a view of Tom swaying with some friends.

You shrug, turning your back to Tom, “I don’t know! I just saw the aftermath. I haven’t really talked to him, or Mal. It’s been tense–– you know?”

“Yeah, we get it,” Jenn nods solemnly, but perks up to wave, “We can just ask Tom himself! Hey! Tom! Harrison!”

Gah–!

Both of them are waving and making a scene towards the pair of boys somewhere behind you. You can only hunch your shoulders to brace yourself. It’s not like you could just walk away––

And “poor” Tom didn’t even realize you were there until the last second, freezing as he stops next to you.

Huuuu.

You’re very aware of how close he is.

With no formalities, no greetings, your friends cut right to it, only directing themselves towards the darker brunette,

“So, how have you been, Tom?”

He shrugs coolly, laughing sheepishly. His eyes are a little half-lidded as he blinked,

“Just… ask what you want to ask.”

Woah.

You look at him in dull surprise, Harrison too. You notice the soft pink glow on his cheeks and how he’s supporting himself on one leg. Maybe he’s drunk?  Maybe he’s just that ready to get it over with.

Cheers.

“Sooooo, you? And… Mal?”

“Not a thing anymore,” he shrugs again, holding up his beer bottle and smiling cryptically.

Your old friends turn on the pity again.

“Awwww, but you guys were so cute together!”

You have to squint your eyes at that remark, knowing they were egging him on. Buttering up the situation, but…. Ugh. You hate these kind of exchanges. But hey, transitions are important right?

Tom tries hard not to look at you as he nods slowly, explaining only a little bit more.

“Yeah, we… just didn’t work out. We… we wanted different things.”

You could see the questions bubbling in their pretty lil heads, but they offer some kindness, some room to take a breath.

“Oh, well good on you for getting out, Tom. We’re happy for you.”

And there it goes. You laugh under your breath at their blatant flip of the coin.

Tom smiles a little warmer this time, eyes crinkling genuinely.

“Thanks, ‘appreciate it.”

“And you know,” Jenn sings, shimmying her shoulders, “If you’re looking for a new, new love. There’s plenty of candidates right here!”

She bumps your shoulder, making you fall towards him. You dance a few steps forward, clinging onto his arm to balance yourself. You scoff as you stand up straight, your hand gripping his sleeve and nearly stretched across his chest.

Oh.

He stiffens beneath your touch.

Right.

You pull back to yourself, stepping aside as he clears his throat. Your brows furrow but he continues to speak uninterrupted.

“Ahem, yeah… thanks. I’m still–– I’m figuring things out. But I’ll be sure to do it right next time.”

Next time.

And you crack a one-sided smile, pursing your lips and looking down. Haha.

Harrison gives Tom’s shoulder a hard pat, not to be forgotten.

“If you get a next time!”

Oh, that was a bit pointed. A little sharp.

Tom opens his mouth in reaction, booing. Harrison laughs wide hugging his shoulders as everyone teases. You can’t look straight at him, knowing that you would fold and join into the glee all too quickly.

He looks too pretty in this light.

“Well, we still have some rounds to make,” Haz hugs Sam, then Jenn, then you, “We’ll grab a drink with you later.”

You close your eyes in the short embrace with Harrison, recharging. He squeezes your shoulder and starts to pull Tom away. Tom was in the middle of hugging your old pals, no hard feelings.

He gets to stand before you but speaks to the group,

“Yeah, ‘nice seeing you guys.”

The one rogue curl has turned into three framing his face, his canine pokes over his lip in a warm smile, and you feel the world stop turning.

“Y/N.”

You nod, giving him a quiet goodbye, tracing the lovely expression on his face. You blink softly, calming the pinpricks in your heart.

Damn.

And before you realize it, you’re smiling.

Greaaat.

It’s getting harder to deny that he’s got you got.

Cos now....

I’m actually kind of rooting for you.

-

How great is it that wedding playlists are full of love songs, huh? Gives you lots of material to think about as you bob your head to some bops with a chilled glass of wine in hand.

“I love you” and “I need you,” those are the songs singing. And the warmth in your face? You can blame it on the bubbly.

Right.

You raise your glass with another circle of friends as you spin in a daze. You let yourself blend into the blur of company, focused on remaining present.

Present as in–– not falling too back into those chocolatey clutches. Too soon anyway.

You don’t need to spend this time thinking about Tom. You don’t need to worry about where he is or how you’ll meet again–– in the next hour? After this wedding? Next week or…

Stop!

You’re just two separate people living on this planet, and your worlds don’t need to revolve around each other. At least, not all the time.

Tom is respecting your space, and you his. You don’t know what happened during this month long break, but… you still have time to think some things through. Whatever.

You nod along with friends to the music, finding your attention drifting away as the songs switch to something slower. The spell is wearing off, clarity is coming.

“I’ll be right back,” you hum but sure they didn’t actually hear you, and head to the bathroom.

And what a surprise, he is standing outside talking on his phone.

He doesn’t see you at first, kicking his feet on the floor and spinning alone.  You tiptoe past him, and maybe that was when he notices you–– you can’t fully tell either because you’ve already made it inside.

You make no impression of it, only looking at your face in the mirror. You take out an oil-blotting sheet and press it against your forehead. You look at your reflection, and it simply stares back. Nothing new, just some lines of wear and tiredness beneath your eyes. The usual.

You exit the restroom, and he isn’t there.

Hm.

You make your way, pulled into some conversations and breaking free for another drink, waiting at the counter of the bar. Your fingers tap against the counter fidgeting not out of impatience and––

There’s a raucous eruption of laughter and rustling beside you. You turn your cheek to see none other than, that man. He’s hugging another guy as they stuff a few bills into the tip jar. He notices you this time.

Small smile, and then disappears into the crowd.

You managed to smile back as your drink came and you flit away just as quickly. There’s an incredulous laugh that edges in the back of your throat.

Hmm.

Next, you go out for some fresh air on the balcony and, huh, he’s there, too. Harrison and Tom smoke some cigars with the grooms and you quite literally smack your lips and turn a heel to the other direction.

Not the kind of air you were looking for at the moment.

You sputter a laugh in disbelief, shaking your head as you clomp your way to… wherever the hell else.

God, you weren’t even looking for him! He was just always fucking… right there. Your pace quickens and you focus on the tap of your shoes as you run away––

But there’s something else in your step.

Disappointment?

Maybe it’s weighing on you that he isn’t making any moves. Not that you want him to, but you kinda did expect him to.You see him miraculously after a month and he leaves all those begging and wanting messages and now you see him here and–– nothing.

Shit, Tom. Don’t be such a great guy.

You laugh, shaking your head, feeling your hair come undone a lil. You tuck it behind your ear as you come back to face the twinkling lights.

You’re making it hard to ignore you.

You take a deep breath, rolling your shoulders back in an attempt to relax. Sliding your way back onto the dance floor, you find friends and hold onto your waning freedom.

Dancing is the best way to get him out of your head. He’s outside, you’re in a tangle, you won’t find him here. You won’t even look for him here!

Shimmy. Sing. Shake. Grind.

Your eyes are closed to just fall in tune with the music, and maybe you’re dancing badly but that’s always alright. Just enough to get the feelings out.

In the throes of expressing yourself with your body, you fail to ignore another body coming up behind you, shushing your friends. Warm hands melt down your waist, rolling with the contours of your hips.

You yelp, jumping up and falling back into the body. You turn to see that it’s just Harrison, laughing smartly. His cheeks are flushed as he hugs your waist close to him,

“Hello there, thing.”

Thing.

“God! You scared me.” You swat at him, as you struggle against his arms to face him. You hug his own waist back easily, fingers spreading across his back. You giggle sheepishly, feeling the full weight of tiredness as you’re finally able to lean on someone.

His warm fingertips gently brush hair away from your sticky face, commenting,

“You’re look beautiful, even 3 hours into this thing.”

“That’s the alcohol speakin’, Haz.”

“No, no.Just accept it,” his eyes soften, watery blue, “I mean it.”

Oh, the pang of guilt.

“Not looking so bad yourself,” you say, patting his cheek. You could feel the beginnings of stubble beneath your hand, sending shivers down your spine.

The song slows and you collapse into a dance together, feet shuffling softly and heads leaned. You take solace on his shoulder, breathing in his manly cologne, still going strong. You can smell a feminine perfume mixed along in there somewhere too––

“So, where’s Tom now?” you callously ask.

“Why are you looking for him?”

“N-no, I’m just wondering,” you callously reply.

Harrison shallowly laughs at your obvious interest, shaking his head to hit his chin against you.

“‘Trying not to keep bumping into you, he says,” you hear a deep sigh come from deep within, “Ya’ll are so annoying.”

His bold hand pats the space right above your ass in poor punishment. You inhale deeply, words spilling,

“I don’t know what to do with… with this, honestly.”

“Spend some time with him, you’ll know.”

You frown, craning to look back at him, eventually standing straight before him, “I… don’t want to.”

“Then don’t look for him,” Haz says firmly, bluntly, clearly.

He’s giving you an empty smile, his eyes icy. And it hurts your heart, hurts you knowing that he’s still having a hard time with this too. You step back, making distance,

“I’m sorry, Harrison–– I didn’t mean to.”

“No, no, you’re alright,” his eyes close, tilting his head. His perfect hair falls with his movements, “I don’t want you to pity me, just–– just let yourself be happy, or else i can’t move on.”

Woof.

That’s the first time he’s said it out loud.

And you hear it loud and clear.

You don’t know what to say, offering him a crooked smile, eyebrows pulled. You try to give him a look that looks more like understanding rather than pity.

He chuckles, a bit more genuinely this time,

“What are we going to do with you?”

You bob your head. You’re a wreck and you know it.

“Dance?”

“I dare you to dance with Tom.”

“What?No way! I can’t do that,” you look past Harrison as he spins you. That pretty boy is standing alone against the wall somewhere far off. He’s not looking in your direction now, but you could never be sure of where his eyes were mere seconds ago.

“No!”

You want to tell Harrison that you’d rather dance with him, no one else, but that would just be twisting the knife in further. Pure cruelty.

“Come on,” Harrison hugs you from behind, swaying for a moment while he presses his cheek against yours. The grain of his stubble tickles your face as he whispers into you ear,

“There’s nothing to be worried about.”

Easy for you to say, is what comes to mind. There’s PLENTY of things to worry about–– but further burdening Harrison with your troubles is just.... Unfair, and you know it.

Fuck it all.

The song ends, and Haz lets you go with a soft spin and swivel. Your shoes tap on the hardwood, as he motions for you to go. It fills you with a little bit of confidence, if you can call it that.

You make your way, looking back to see the beautiful boy already chatting up some people nearby, his perfect smile on display. There was a little ease given back to you there. A little.

The songs get slower, and it’s harder to make it out there alone.

Your stupid eyes keep trailing back to Tom leaning against the wall, glass in hand. You suck in a breath and finally waltz yourself over to him.

At least you have the element of surprise on your side, right?

“Hey.”

“Ah! H-hey!” he’s caught off guard, pushing himself off the wall to stand tall.

You fall into place next to him, looking around as you control the pace.

“You enjoying yourself?”

You’re aware of how strange this sudden exchange must be, but you’re tired of running in place. You think Tom picks up on that too as his shoulder slumps in casual ease, able to speak loosely,

“Of course, great company and an open bar. It’s a good night.”

You break into a wry smile, wondering who and where his company was. You were out there with his best friend, who was left?

That’s a little mean, haha.

“You’re not gonna go dance?”

“No one I wanna dance with out there,” he bumps his head to the music, looking out into the sea, and back at you.

You exhale, taking a small leap,

“No one for the… past few months?”

Tom fights a grin, puffing his cheeks up as he turns to you fully. His eyes scan over your face, looking for permission to be back on that cheeky shit,

“There’s only (1) person that comes to mind.”

Mmhmm.

“––Well ,a few ones. But you’re the main one, don’t worry,” he jokes with a weak smile.

That’s enough to make you laugh though, his easy teasing. You fix the strap of your dress as you smooth out the conversation with just as much tact,

“So, how have you been otherwise, busy?”

“Yeah, a little bit, and you?”

“Not busy enough,” you laugh, maybe this wasn’t so easy. The nervous energy boiled in the pit of your stomach as you kept talking, “––with work and class and stuff. It’s been slow but i’d rather be stressed. I don’t know it’s weird, being idle.”

“No, no, I get it,” Tom points his finger as he takes a drink, maintaining eye contact, “Don’t overwork yourself though.”

“Thanks.”

And the conversation stops, not flowing to the next thing like it used to.

There should be so many things to talk about, so many things to catch up on, movies, shows, life, anything! But there were still wrinkles you had to iron out, not to be forgotten.

The silence isn’t unpleasant though, though you can credit that to being at a loud and rowdy wedding. Lots of background noise and things to avert your gaze to.

“How’s Mal?” he asks outright and suddenly.

“Doin’ better,” you reply just as earnestly, “Haven’t talked to her much though, if I’m being honest.”

“That’s good. She… really worried me last week, but we left on good terms.”

Thank god.

You face him fully this time too, “I’m glad. That’s great, Tom. I’m really happy for you.”

He puts down his glass, scratching his nose to hide his face. You can see his eyes were a little watery while his brows furrowed,

“Listen, I– I gotta clear some things up with you too. If you’ll––”

You hear the loud crackle of a microphone, eyes directed towards the mass of people rushing to the dance floor. The DJ announces it’s time for the bouquet toss, people pushing beside you asking you to come join, Hands reaching out as they pass.

Uhm, hell no.

You shake your head in rejection, it may just be superstition, but you’ll take no chances. Predictions for the future made you queasy, forever waiting for those star sign events to come true. It’s limiting, in a way. Strings of people pass by you, pulling at you and Tom to join. They smelled a little too hopeful and a little too much like alcohol.

“Come on, you’re single. Just go!”

“No thanks,” you breath.

“Why, are you taken?”

“No,” you had to reply over and over.

You held still, your stomach churning for some reason. Maybe it was just having your future ~love~ predicted and dissected by a crowd of people. You just felt rushed and hot and annoyed. These festivities were meant to be fun, harmless! But you feel too conscious about it in this state.

“Want to get out of here?” Tom offers, expertly sensing your nerves, his hand already hovering over the small of your back.

“Please.”

He takes the outside and you walk along the wall, weaving through threads of people while his hand guides you. You couldn’t look at him, embarrassed about your mini-meltdown as he leads you out into an empty hall. It led to a quiet lobby.

No one was there, the only sign of use were the half-drunken booze littered across a table. There was still plenty of room to stand and talk. You lean against a marble column and look out the window. There’s meant to be a view of the city, sparkling at night, but the glare allowed you to see your reflections. Both of you stood apart and stiff.

You hug your shoulders, thinking of just moments ago, “Pushy.”

“Sorry about that,” Tom offers, leaning against the same pillar, close. “Is this alright?”

“It’s not you,” is all you can return.

You both take the moment to try to look past your own reflections to the outside world, listening to the muffled sounds of the DJ and blurry cheering. Soon enough, you push off the column stand closer to the glass, looking out and seeing clearly.

“I have to apologize for speaking on your behalf… about Mal.”

There’s a beat of silence before he comes beside you again, searching for the same view. In the faint reflection, you see his hand reach for yours and stop, stuffing his back into his pocket. He pretends he hadn’t moved at all.

“No, no, thanks for saying something. I, uhm, I didn’t mean to put you on the spot.”

You both chuckle, looking down–– no one really knows anything. It’s contained, it’s a secret.

It’s stills something that’s only between the three of you.

And it’s all you can think about lately.

What are we now?

During this gap, you’ve spent so much time thinking about what to say, and what you would do when you get the chance to speak one on one…. But now you’re fumbling. So far, you don’t know anything about thisTom. This Tom you have seen for days, weeks, months. You don’t know what he’s being doing, how he’s doing or what he’s even thinking about–– not like before. Not like back when you could read his mind. Not like when you knew, “I’m on my way” meant “I’ll be 10 minutes late, but I’ll be there.”

There’s so little to go off of.

The boy before you wasn’t a complete stranger, but not exactly a friend either.

And you don’t know where to start with that.

You cross and uncross your arms in the dragging echo of silence.

You feel like a child, helpless. You feel like a teenager, confused. But worst of all, you felt like an adult who has no idea what the fuck to say.

It would have been comforting to know that Tom felt the same way, but you didn’t notice that. You didn’t see how his forefinger pressed into his thumb, and how he bit the inside of his cheek, navigating the same path to the truth and apology.

It would actually be a relief for someone to burst in at this moment.

But the time for peace and clarity has arrived, and you both know you shouldn’t let it go.

“I’m sorry for… kissing you the last time I saw you. The last, last time, I mean. At the party,” Tom courageously blurts, turning a frustrated red. He steps back to the column, leaning against it as he balls his hands into fists,

“That’s one the biggest… things I have to say sorry for. And… yeah, you know the rest. I just–– I know that I shouldn’t have done that. The alcohol and confusion isn’t an excuse… and yeah, it’s disgusting, I know.” He trails off, hoping that you would pick up from there. But you don’t, properly giving him time to say what he needs to,

“I–I’ve been so lost for so long, you know? Looking for someone to be with, and Mal was there. She was someone who wasn’t perfect, needed help… Someone I thought I could help. And I wanted to stick through it, but when I met you––aside from what happened between us, you taught me that I deserved better. Better than someone who wouldn’t do anything in return for all I’ve done. That that relationship isn’t… something I had to destroy myself to save,” he looks up, looking for you.

“You just… none of this is your fault and you don’t need to feel bad for any of it. For me.”

Tom laughs, shaking his head more curls and waves coming undone.

“You don’t need to be anything to me. But I’m just going to be the sap that’s still falling in love with you for a while longer.”

The laugh takes a bittersweet turn, and you can tell he wishes he were holding your hand–– anything to physically show you he means it. But you’re not sure you’re ready for that kind of direct touch just yet.

You’re just absorbing it all in. It’s been a tumultuous few months, both caught in a vicious tide. Rolling, tumbling, drowning–– and it’s not an excuse for either of you. You can’t just let things fall where they may.

“No… Tom, I have to apologize too,” you start shakily, after you hear cheers from the vibrating reception.

“For what?”

Breathe.

The past few months of getting close to Tom, getting closer and falling apart, run though your mind. And you really wonder if he thinks that you are blameless in this catastrophe.That you hadn’t seduced him or wanted him while he was promised to someone else.

That’s pretty shit of you, right?

You lick your bottom lip in a small smile, Tom always had that kind of innocence about you. The assumption that you don’t play the game, that you could never wish ill-will. He could never think that you had ever schemed against his relationship.

And you didn’t, explicitly, but….

“Tom,” you dig your heel into the ground, leaning against the window while you watch his face, “I shouldn’t have ever… tempted you–– or spent that time with you. Back then, in the beginning, you had Mal. And I walked right in between you.”

“You didn’t.”

“I did, and maybe it wasn’t forcefully or with the intention of taking you away but… it was wrong of me to even try to confuse you. It was selfish and stupid.”

And it hurt everyone involved.

Whether it started with you is up for debate, but you want this cycle of hurt to end with you. Or end with the truth.

You think of Harrison and even Mal. Maybe it’s not your fault or Tom’s fault, but it’s hard to feel blameless as you assess the damage.

“If I hadn’t gotten involved, none of this would have happened and…”

Your eyes shift left and right as you wait for his reply. Tom hangs his head, rocking for a moment before coming back up to smile,

“It’s okay.”

His words hang in the air, releasing you. And something has changed, with your confessions, something has reverted back to those glossier days. He teases,

“I’m glad you confused me.”

You scrunch your nose at your words being brought back.

Tom and Mal’s relationship was rockier than either of you knew at the start, and with your intentional slash unintentional meddling, lots of things came to light, got messy and now… you’re here.

Confused.

Far from the start, but still just as lost.

Tom’s brows raise and soften as he watches your heart on your sleeve,

“I…. I know there’s still a lot to think about but… I gotta say that I’m so happy that you’re still here talking to me.”

You have to laugh, one that you can’t swallow and pretend. You rub the corner of your eye, and muse,

“I’m not that cold, Tom.”

But you had been, and he knew he deserved it.

And while time has not swept away all the hurt, the path seemed a little bit clearer.

There were still some things you couldn’t deny.

“Hey... You know what?”

He hums in response, kicking off the column to come stand beside you again. You could see the pretty wrinkles on the side of his mouth deepen as he breathes into a smile.

You start,

“Despite this mess, I’m glad I got to know you. At all.”

His dark eyes widen as he takes it in, the future still in question. His pale hands yearns to reach out to you, and even with this new confidence he is wary of rejection. Instead he cuts through the still and get straight to it,

“What does that mean?”

You felt caught off guard at his parry, but your answer comes out all on its own.

“It means that, I’ve liked you, Tom. and––”

And?

“I don’t completely want you out of my life.”

You find yourself smiling as you tuck your chin back in embarrassment. That sounded an awful lot like you still felt That Way about him. You shut your eyes and sigh, shaking your head a little bit.

“Not completely?” he repeats, egging you on for more. He leans close to you, making his way back to your heart.

You chuckle under your breath.

“Let’s start over.”

Tom’s brows harden.

You stretch out your hand towards him, which he cautiously accepts as you put out the flames.

“As friends.”

There’s another loud round of applause that echoes through the hall. Shouts and whistles bleed out to the lobby.

“As friends,” he murmurs.

You shake firmly, avoiding his eyes as your hands fall back to your sides. You turn your cheek to face away from him and suggest,

“Let’s get back in, yeah?”

You don’t want him to see the strange, flustered, excited, happy expression drawn so obviously on your face.

“Let’s,” Tom agrees easily.

His hand smoothes over the small of your back, in a brave and bold little show of camaraderie.

Let’s start off as friends.

You smile stiffly, because you don’t want him to know that your heart is pounding like it used to.

That it would be too easy to melt back into that old mold.

Let’s just see where we go from there.

-

As with all romantic dramedies, you enter the party together with no resolution or closure to your prior conversation. And once again, you are immediately swept away into the tide.

You lose each other for a moment, following the flow of people and conversation.  But this time, you find your way back to one another, willingly.

Tom stands tall by your side, instead of cowering away, and you roll your shoulders back with inviting poise. You feel at ease and he smiles warmly.

That’s not to write off the unbelievable and undeniable tension stretching in the small gap between your shoulders. It’s TOO real.

Your hand had bumped his once, and you both jump back and fumble over hurried apologies.

“Sorry.”

“You’re good.”

And it’s back to standing still but not too still. You both manage to relax with your favorite blonde slash brunette makes his way, and stands in between. He’s throws his arms over both of you, drunken weight pulling down as he sways.

You laugh at the rumple in his collar, fixing it while berating him for still being so drunk at the end of the night. Harrison waves the hand on your side and twirls a finger in the air,

“Indulge a little.”

The celebration nears the end as the lights dim and people start making two lines by the exit, standing together holding party poppers to burst over the grooms in the grand finale. A parting gift of glitter and petals and kisses.

Tom has placed Harrison in a chair by the wall, both of you standing nearby. You both snicker  as he rubs his eyes and checks his phone, undoubtedly texting you both.

Facing forward, you hold the small device in your hands as you wait together, scraping to make small talk. Your voice startles him.

“You know, Z is coming back in a week.”

Tom’s eyes widen, looking at you with genuine surprise. He nods, looking for more,

“Oh, for real? Does she want––” His eyes dart from side to side, thinking of his next words carefully.

You finish it for him.

“She wants to see you. And uh-oh, biiiiig trouble.”

“Oh,” he pulls an exaggerated face, tugging at his collar.

“Not all bad trouble. But–– you know, it could help your case if you could help us with the move. Uhm, If I could trouble you with that.”

Tom smiles wide, his eyes crinkling near shut as he looks down. This is your arm stretched out towards him, offering a path back to where he wants to be. But it’s just a feeler, if anything at all.

“Yeah, of course, I’d love to.”

You giggle, shaking your head. No one wants to help anyone with a move, dummy. God, you don’t want to take advantage of his feelings but–– he does have a car and some apologies he wanted to make. Haha, it’s nothing malicious! You could just use the help.

“I can bring Haz and Jacob too, if that’s alright.”

“Oh, I don’t have that much shit.”

“Just Harrison then?”

Your eyes scan over him, wondering if he was worried about spending time in the same place as 3 women who were, arguably, after his throat. You really can’t blame him for looking for some protection.

You offer your sympathy with a edging smile, “Yeah, bring the drunkard with you. He’ll be a lot of help, yeah?”

You both turn back to look at him, squinting into the crowd. You laugh as he finally finds you, and offer him a little wave. You turn to Tom to see if he was waving too, but he wasn’t.

His face is close, and tilted towards you. You could see those freckles you missed so much, and the brow you’ve always wanted to tame. You could smell that faint boyish cologne that always reminded you of home––

“Oh! Here they come!” Tom interrupts, his whole face perking up animatedly. His smile is so wide and true, leaving you in a daze and you turn back to the grooms.

They make their way through the lines, dressed in white, only to be covered in glitter and streamers and petals.

You squeal in excitement, screaming congratulations as you pull the string and feel the pop in your bones. Tom is whistling and howling beside you, a cheeky hand making its way across your back.

Goosebumps prickle across your skin as you watch the new couple pass.

Hey.

They disappear into night, as the crowd collapses into one. You hear stray pops and fizzles, delayed responses but none to go to waste. The flurry of confetti is dense and never ending, feeling like a stubborn snow flurry in the early spring.

You lean into the warm palm into your back, and spin to find it’s owner.

Through falling flowers, muted music and passing bodies, you turn back to Tom.

Lovely Tom.

And he’s found you too, hair tousled just right and lips a rosy pink.

Picture perfect and sugary sweet.

“Hey, you.”

Your back is still blooming with warmth even after his hand falls away.

“Hey.”

Before the flurry ends, he’s pulled you aside to avoid the bustling of people making their exit. The dim light and soft rustling makes you feel small and lonely, yearning to be held again.

Your eyes shift towards Harrison, coming up from his seat and taking a video of the falling flowers. You blink back into your body.

Straightening yourself out, you tuck hair behind your ear, making rogue petals fall out onto the floor. You and Tom laugh, as he brushes his shoulders off and shakes his blazer.

You’re shaking off your dress as Harrison comes up, and Tom speaks low,

“Can I give you a ride home?”

Oh, the night’s not over.

You look at Haz, still in and out of his coordination and seeing that he was your ride… you agree. You walk with the pair of boys clinging to each other into the warm night and softly bump into Tom’s shoulder.

“Did you plan for this?”

He raises his brows to give you a smug smile,

“Nope, only hoped.”

You roll your eyes as you get into Harrison’s car–– Tom must have gotten a Lyft or something. Harrison surrendered his keys and quickly settled into his seat up front. He dozes off quickly, dropping his phone and making no reaction.

Tom snickers as you take a picture of the blonde sweetie, sitting back to type on your phone.

He plays some whatever late night radio music, and it’s quiet in the car but it’s not so bad. It’s comfortable.

You don’t feel the pressure to talk after all the talking you had already done.

You focus on picking off flowers that have gotten into precarious places, and rub the glitter off your skin. You seethe,

“These better be biodegradable.”

And Tom laughs, glitter and paper confetti falling out of his hair.

He takes you home on familiar dips and turn, getting back to your apartment in no time. You almost forgot about your roommate for a moment too––

He parks to the side and as you gather your things he runs out to get the door for you, making you blow up at your hair. You take the hand he offers as you step out,

“Thank you, thank you. That’ll be all.”

You start to walk to the front door, realizing Tom is following you after the car door shuts and you hear his hurried steps. You look at him, lips pressed to avoid a smile. He shrugs,

“Just want to make sure you get inside.”

You both look towards the door, only a short distance away. And reconvene with those dark browns, curious to see what could happen next.

He understands that there’s still a line, still a few things to settle. And you appreciate that–– except for the fact that your insides are buzzing to take him in, to watching something dumb or to catch up or to drink drinks or to just to have him on your couch again.

But it can’t be tonight.

You climb up a few steps, making yourself a lot taller than him, and lick your lips,

“”Thank you, Tom. Uhm, it was nice talking to you again.”

“It’s my pleasure,” he scratches the side of his neck, “This eases some of my worries.”

“You don’t have to worry,” you say softly leaning back.

“But I want to.”

You shake your head, throwing your shoulders up as you laugh,

“Stay worried then!”

Tom pouts, slapping his arms at his side in defense, and you only rub your nose.

“Thanks,” he sarcastically nods, continuing the banter. He wants to spend more time with you too, to wrap himself in that fuzzy gray blanket and tell you how much you meant and mean to him. But he rocks back on his heels, trying to get away from your sweet scent and away from the sweet licks of temptation.

Let’s not make the same mistakes twice, yeah?

“Text me when you make it back, okay? Tell Harrison to too,” you conclude, stepping on the brakes.

He smiles a little too wide at the permission you just gave him, and you only realize it a second after. Then the lines of communication were open again, that this is something you will really move forward with–– and as Tom bows his head to hide his ecstatic grin, you catch sight of a stray white petal knotted in his locks.

“Hold on!”

You reach forward instinctively, and he keeps his head lowered. You hold the side of his head with one hand, the bottom of your palm smoothing across his forehead and the other plucking the petal from a nest of gel,

“Got it.”

And he looks up then, with no warning. You hand frozen in place, and ultimately cupping his cheek. Your thumb presses against the corner of his lip, pressed in a gorgeous and heartbreaking smile.

You manage to speak, “Look, silly.”

Your hand shakes as you show him the white petal between your faces, and he defiantly looks past it and straight at you.

“You can keep that,” he whispers, making your hair stand on end.

And it’s funny because your arm lowers, and your hand slides off his burning cheek onto his chest. You smooth down his lapel and hold his gaze before you let your hand fall back to your side. You wished nothing more than to tumble forward, to collapse back into his arms. To embrace him wholly, for him to embrace you back.

To forget the stupid messes made and fall in love with the sweetness again.

“I will.”

There’s still a trust to be earned, a new recipe to follow. Proper ingredients, real sugar and in the end, it’s still gotta taste good too.

But, oh, what would wouldn't do to kiss him again.

To take a bite of that sweet chocolate.

“I’ll see you soon, Tom.”

I wonder what it would taste like now?

-

-

-

A/N: …… FINALLY. OH MY GOD. it’s been like what, 6 months? Since December? This series took a hard hit because of my birthday and holidays and tumblr banning blogs left and right. I’m glad to return to it, and fucking… END it. Thank you so much to those of you who have stuck around, remembered this series and asked for updates! This is for you.

If you can, please like, comment and reblog. I want all of those who have been waiting for this to see the end! Maybe like 2-3 more chapters left?

And i’ll let you know when i can update next. The next one won’t be as long, so maybe i can get it out in a week or two?

Track #LDC or #Like Dark Chocolate to see the updates!

Again, thank you so much and i love you guys! See you very soon.

Peace,

Madmadmilk

[hsblitzed]

aaaaaaaaaaa day 11. readin homestuck on my birthday. because what else would i do, socialize??? fuck that

oh those darn imps, vandalizing his poor, poor posters. rude, savage imps. yes they’re the ones who vandalized them totally of course. ):

😬😬😬

no WAY the mayor would give up his sick sash. if he did, how could he call himself the mayor anymore???

wow, what a convenient stash of cable nearby! right next to someone dearly in need of extra cable!! its almost as if someone who could see the future set this up in advance just to help him!!! but, that’s so unlikely, right...?

watch out they got a fucking GUN

jade’s living the dream, literally

MAYOR WATCH OUT HE’S GOT A FUCKING GUN

god i love the whole prospit/derse dreaming thing. something about it, i dunno how to explain it, but it just makes me feel... happy. (: what doesnt make me happy are all those creepy fucking drawings on the wall god john

small spies... just, itty-bitty spies.....

honestly? good weapon design.

oh so THATS where that stupid horse attacking a football player poster came from

i,,, hate this laptop. please john, why... why did you make this

WRINKLEFUCKER.

john, maybe you should uh, ease up on the alchemizing, just for a little bit. just, chill the fuck out for a minute. and NO MORE CROSBY I STG

why is dave’s place always, so aesthetically pleasing. fuck i might make something like this my desktop bg

oh yeah ALSO. the fucking SCRATCH

doggy birthday !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

get FUCKED lil cal

john is such a good friend... ily........

KANAYA THERE SHE IS!!! oh right, since right now she’s just a “troll”, she’s being weirdly condescending. i miss that part of her (:

(:

dave with the pointy anime shades.........

(:(:(:

oh my god tavros what an opening

love how dave just went “naw fuck it. i’m trolling YOU now and there’s nothing you can do about it baby”

and thats all up to page 1100 babeyyy!!!!!!!!! glad we’re finally getting into meeting more of the trolls, i miss those guys (: also, some stuff is goin down with the lil guys in the future... whatever could be in the box???