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oftenderweapons · 4 years ago

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Mold Me New (5) — Kim Taehyung

A Small Town Swoons Story

Pairing: Taehyung x reader (nicknamed Frog — for now)

Wordcount: 5.2k

Genre: ceramic artist!Taehyung, divorced!reader, Strangers to Lovers, Fluff, Smut, Slice of Life

Rating: 18+

Hello to my readers!!! Welcome to the Small Town Swoons Universe!🥰✨

In this episode: Frog gets to see the final results of her hard work. Taehyung, feeling extremely proud of her, is in the mood for celebation. He invites her for dinner, but eventually the lasagna in the oven is not the only tthing getting hot — and the cheesecake is not the only sweet thing on the menu.

TRIGGER WARNINGS: swearing. mentions of alcohol. smut: making out, grinding, humping, groping (ass, breasts) hair tugging, fingering, very soft overgrown teenagers being inappropriate and horny and tenderly feral on the sofa. Also cramps cause topping ain't easy folks.

A special thank you to @taegularities, my cutest, most adorable, Taehyung stan, The Radiant Rid. I love you, babe. Can't wait to read your next masterpiece 💕

In case you like my writing, here is my directory for idol!AUs, scenarios and imagines. And in case you need it, here’s the Spotify music companion.

Navi: Chapter 1 — Chapter 2 — Chapter 3 — Chapter 4 — Chapter 5 — Chapter 6 — Chapter 7

Enjoy 💜✨

You were falling for Kim Taehyung.

This was by far an undoubtable truth, like the butterflies in your stomach, like the softness of his hair and the plump curve of his lip, like the excruciating, painfully perfect beauty of his face.

He was a gift to humankind, you realised.

You were sure that by now your heart eyes showed in a three-mile radius, and from the way he looked at you in return, you could tell the sentiment was somehow returned.

What made you insecure was his lack of initiative.

You noticed he enjoyed being on the receiving end — which had actually shown a few days before, when he’d fallen asleep in the comfort of your lap, you reading your book while he recovered from the stressful day.

You could still remember the soft golden light coming in through the window, the way his breath got heavy with sleep, his hand laying just an inch above your knee, growing clammy with sweat as he heated up under the blanket. And the feel of his fluffy locks under your fingertips.

He’d looked adorable, a gentle blush on his cheeks, his cherub face relaxing, chubby and plump with the sweet abandon of sleep.

His hands suddenly laid delicately atop yours. “The kiln has cooled up. Would you like to see?” Taehyung asked quietly, trying not to wake you from your reverie too abruptly.

“Oh, yes!” you replied as briefly as possible, hoping he didn’t catch you daydreaming while staring at him with a fond expression.

“Be very careful, they’re hot,” he said, lifting the top of the kiln slowly and letting the remaining hot air come out a bit at a time, without having to feel the heat hit his face.

“Are they going to be good?” you asked curiously. Not all your pieces had made it through bisque firing, and the idea of having something that actually looked like a finished, real work of art was getting you excited. You had been taking lessons for six weeks now and it felt about time to see some results.

“I think I can spot a good one,” he mused as he lifted the lid, bright blue glaze immediately catching your attention.

“Did the bowl survive? The one with the golden swirls? Please, tell me it did, I love it so much!” You felt ready to beg, pray, cry if something had gone wrong.

“It’s on the middle shelf. Be patient, you golden retriever,” he joked, wearing a pair of latex gloves to make sure the temperature was okay without damaging the glaze.

“It was my first to survive bisque, I am invested!” you argued back, peering from over his shoulder, noticing that your vase for Terry had survived.

“Vase accomplished, Frog. You should be excited about that one,” he said, moving it to a shelf. “It means you worked it nicely.”

You shrugged. It was one of your latest pieces, so you weren’t too surprised about it. Still, considering that shaping a vase with consistent walls is a feat in itself, you smirked. “You taught me well.”

“I did,” he replied, lifting a large, low bonsai plate. “Ready to see your bowl, Frog?”

“If anything happened to it, I’m going to kill you.”

Taehyung turned to you, grinning, his nose scrunched in a way that made you sure you would never lift a finger on him.

Your eyes closed: because you were nervous about the bowl, you told yourself — not because you couldn’t stand Taehyung’s expression without pressing your lips to his.

He lifted the shelf from the kiln. He turned to look at you.

He did not resist.

It was like you were waiting for him to kiss you, fist pressed underneath your chin, eyes screwed shut in excitement and fear.

He touched his lips to the apple of your cheek. Your eyes shot open, but the gentleness on his face calmed you. “Congratulations, miss Frog, you have a beautiful blue baby,” he declared in a very medical fashion.

You threw your arms around him, jumping up and down as you giggled hysterically.

“And she cheers for the bowl,” he said, shaking his head in disappointment. “As if she could mess it up after that vase.”

“Screw the damned vase, show me my baby,” you said, going grabby hands to the kiln.

“No, Frog. Wait,” he said, picking up the piece and bringing it to the table, you in tow like a tail-wadding, restless puppy.

“It’s so pretty,” you mused as soon as he set the bowl down. “It’s so sparkly. So glittery. Taehyung, it’s perfect,” you whispered in awe, feeling tears well up in your eyes as you turned to him.

Fondness overwhelmed him as he saw your amused look, so dreamy and happy and satisfied.

It was your baby. Your special creature. Selfishly, he felt like he had contributed to the creation.

For a second he thought that’s what it must feel like to be a father. “Watch over it while I finish the rest,” he said, taking a step away.

You grabbed his wrist.

He turned, waiting for you to explain.

“Thank you,” you murmured, voice emotional.

He twisted his arm in your grip until his hand could reach for yours, engulfing it.

And right in that second, he felt he belonged. Somehow crazily, stupidly, innocently, he felt at home. “Anytime, darling.” He rubbed his thumb against your inner wrist before letting you go. He still had half a kiln to unload.

Bowls and mugs came out easily, some of them even presenting unintended variations that would for sure attract buyers. He felt proud.

But most of all, he wanted to go back to your bowl, to you worshipping it like a little miracle, the poor vase sitting unattended on a high shelf, out of harm’s way.

He closed the lid and took the vase, bringing it to you and placing it on the table.

“You did a very good job, Frog,” he complimented you, placing his hand close to yours, hoping to rekindle the affection he had felt only a few minutes ago.

“It’s not like I did it by myself,” you admitted, beaming up at him.

“Stay for dinner,” he blurted out, “Seokjin brought a cheesecake this morning, I still have half of it. And I have his lasagna in the freezer. We could cook it and eat that — I don’t trust myself making anything edible.”

You snickered. “You don't want me to cook?”

He shook his head. “I wanted to… To celebrate.”

You smiled, standing up, his mouth right before your eyes, “What are we celebrating?”

He looked at your lips as they moved. “The vase,” he replied seriously, although the tone of his voice meant a thousand other things.

“Of course,” you conceded. “Let’s go. I’m hungry,” you confessed, grabbing his hand, tugging at his arm.

Taehyung could swear he was floating a foot off the ground out of happiness. He realised he’d been happier than usual lately; he’d been selling more pieces and his part time job was finally giving him some satisfaction.

He felt like he was drifting across the kitchen as he put his phone in a wooden box as an amplifier, playing an old jazz tune as he put the lasagna in the oven.

You sat at the table, watching him move around with a small smile, your head leaning on your palm. You were such a sucker.

“Wine?”

You shook your head. “You’re gonna get me drunk,” you smiled.

He sat at your side, “why not,” he teased, “just vaguely tipsy. I promise I’ll be a gentleman.” He placed a hand on his heart and bowed his head slowly.

“It’s not you I’m worried about,” you murmured, looking down before meeting his eyes again.

He licked his lips. “Who is it, then?”

“Me.”

“What about you?” His fingers skimmed the surface of the table, sliding all the way to your elbow and tracing your inner forearm.

A shiver ran down your spine. “I get clingy. And slightly inappropriate,” you chuckled embarrassedly.

“I could never be bothered by that,” he whispered, wrapping his fingers around your wrist. “I bet you’d look so adorable.” His hand opted to cup the back of yours before you slipped your hand away, making his palm touch your cheek instead, your face leaning in. “Which would make you absolutely irresistible,” he admitted, nodding fondly at your display of trust.

“Thank you,” you replied to the compliment, feeling your face heat up.

“Let’s lay the table.”

Let’s lay down and make out for three hours and fall asleep under the stars in the back of a pickup.

You gave your brain a second to calm down. “Sure. How can I help you?”

In twenty minutes, the tasty smell of lasagna began drifting in the air, making your mouth water as you and Taehyung talked about his other job — the one that actually paid the bills and brought food on the table. “I just love them, they’re adorable. I managed to practice when my granny used to babysit.”

You pouted, starry eyed as he talked about the children, going on and on about the five year old that always wanted to curl his hair and paint his nails.

Most of all, you loved the idea of him sitting on a baby chair, all curled up, giant hand sprawled on the table while the girl spread lacquer on his pretty nails.

“Your granny babysat?”

“She raised a few of us, yes, and then she was the babysitter for all the kids of the street,” he explained.

“I thought you grew up with your mom?” you said confusedly.

“Yes, we stayed with my mom until we turned four, but then she went back to her job and we started staying with my grandmother. And when I was ten, my mom started dating a good man. He’s one of the greatest people I know, but unfortunately, he was transferred out of state and my mom decided to go with him. I didn’t want to leave and my granny let me stay with her.”

You nodded, taking in more details about him. “Are you happy about the situation with your mom? Do you miss her?”

He shrugged. “Sometimes. But I like seeing her happy. She got married and she’s safe. Her husband spoils her, he takes care of her and he’s well off. She won’t need to worry about her health.”

“That’s a good thing,” you nodded, getting startled once the timer rang.

“Thank God,” he muttered, getting an oven glove as you stepped away quickly.

Dinner was a quiet ordeal, with easy chatting and small pauses. Silence was more than welcome as you slipped into the quiet comfort of sharing a meal. It was all so natural, effortless. And the food was delicious, filling your stomach but also pleasing your tastebuds; Seokjin was famous for his culinary skills, but he really outdid himself with the cheesecake, so creamy and perfectly sweet that you asked for a second serving, Taehyung more than happy to comply.

You kept chatting as you helped him clear the table, washing the dishes while he dried them.

“Last one,” you called, rinsing a plate before passing it to him.

You watched him as he diligently dried it, your gaze meeting his in his peripheral.

You tried to find something to say as his stare focused on you, his hands placing down the plate as he fully turned towards you.

“What?” you murmured hesitantly.

“I might do something stupid,” he said, his voice deep and barely audible, his face getting closer to you. “But I haven’t done it in a very long time.” His hand landed on your waist. “Stop me if you find it outright idiotic.”

There was nothing idiotic in the way his mouth looked so inviting from up close, all its curves too inviting for you to stop staring.

The mole on his lower lip teased you in ways that made you want to throw yourself at him. You couldn’t even understand how the attraction worked, you were simply needy, praying for his mouth to finally meet yours.

“Close your eyes,” he breathed out, trying to find courage.

You followed his suggestion, putting yourself out of misery and standing on your tiptoes before leaning in, finally joining your lips with his.

He didn’t even pretend to keep calm, both arms wrapping around your waist as he held you, delivering a string of small pecks with his lips slightly ajar, offering you the soft plumpness of the inner flesh, vaguely humid and hot.

You loved it.

All you could do was exhale, a tiny cry leaving your throat as your vocal cords caught the breath leaving your lungs. Your hands flew to his hair, hiding in him as embarrassment set you aflame.

A low grunt echoed through his chest as he felt you tug the locks at his nape gently, your body pressing harder against him.

He tried to hold you back, not sure he was ready to admit the carnal way his body reacted to you. He wanted to be gentle, delicate, cautious, but the tightness of his trousers around his crotch was anything but.

“Darling, I need a minute,” he mumbled against your lips in an almost tickling motion.

“Just one more,” you replied, your voice so heated and thin.

He tutted. “Let’s not go too fast.”

You stood straighter and chased his mouth as he tried to retreat, your eyelids lowered as you stared at the sweet, tempting mole.

“Just one…” you whispered before sucking his lower lip, licking it with the tip of your tongue.

His hand moved to your tailbone, pressing you closer. Rational thought abandoned him as he pushed his tongue against the seam of your lips, rubbing it against your palate before letting it tangle with yours.

That’s when you noticed the hardness between your legs, his thigh slotted there comfortably as you pressed your hips to it, eliciting a moan from Taehyung.

“Sofa,” you murmured, trying to hold him to you as you walked backwards to the door.

“Wait,” he breathed out, trying to part from you, causing you to whine.

“Don’t go,” you said with a pout. “I need you,” you almost whimpered, touching his nape, his neck, his chest.

“I’ll be there in a second. Don’t go all cute grumpy on me, I just need to grab my phone,” he explained, unglueing your body from his. Reluctantly made your way to the kitchen door, waiting for him before heading to the sitting room, refusing to let him out of your sight anytime soon.

Once he’d pocketed his phone, he turned towards you, his eyes getting dark and lascivious as he studied your frame while you leaned against the door jamb.

He strolled casually towards you, your eyes following his sinewy limbs.

You realised you were eager to see him naked, the thought making you pause mid-breath.

Once he stood in front of you, his arm slipped between your back and the wooden frame of the door, holding you as he leaned down. “Smartest thing I’ve done in a while.”

“Even smarter if you’re gonna do me,” you quipped, biting your lower lip and cringing once you realised you had said it out loud.

He snickered and kissed you, your hips pushing forward to grind against him, his cock too hard and large for you not to notice it. His hand wrapped around your asscheek, helping you grind even harder, his lean, strong fingers squeezing and kneading your flesh deliciously. Carefully walking towards his destination, he helped you navigate the corridor in a slight penumbra, a thin ray of moonlight slashing the floor before he pushed the door open and entered the sitting room. The space was illuminated in a blue-grey light coming from the full moon shining outside the windows.

Haphazardly, you managed to sit down, pulling him with you, making him lose his balance and stumble a little.

“Are you okay?” you asked, worried about the stupefied look on his face.

“Yeah, just thinking how to…” he fixed his stance, wondering if he should pull you on his lap or make you lay down or…

“Come here,” you murmured, kissing the mole on his cheek. “I’ve got so many kisses to give you.”

“They’re all mine,” he cooed, turning adorable for a second.

You melted. “Yes, now come here, don’t make me beg.”

He turned and leaned into you, cupping your jawline and holding you still before he slipped his tongue across your mouth. “You’re too far like this,” he complained, ignoring the fact that your bodies were literally touching shoulder to ankle.

“Wait.” You quickly bent your legs underneath you, thankful for the no-shoes rule in his house as you sat on your heels. “Like this?” you asked as he mirrored the motion almost too rapidly, his body rocking dangerously.

He immediately realised his trousers were tighter like this. He tried to ignore it, his only goal being for his mouth to meet yours, feeling the hot, milky taste of your tongue that still held some memory of the cheesecake. “Come closer,” he breathed, hoping to get some friction, the softness of your breasts against his torso, crying out at how much he missed the stand-up position, allowing the front of his body to adhere to yours with alarming precision.

“Can’t get any closer,” you chuckled desperately. “Can I lay down?”

He nodded, he needed close.

You untucked your legs from beneath you, bending them at each of his sides. “We can go to my room—”

“I like it here,” you replied, tugging him into you, his eyes shooting open once he’d risked falling from the sofa.

You managed to catch him, thankful for the wide cushions of the seats. “Be careful,” you giggled fondly, kissing his brow, his nose, following his moles like fire flights. The whole night felt magical. It felt even more magical once you managed to get his playlist to play again, placing his phone on the ground and enjoying the round fullness of his backside.

“You really have hands made for pottery,” he mused as he kissed your brow, your cheeks, the bridge of your nose, your chin, the shell of your ear. “I like them there,” he confessed, pushing his pelvis against yours, meeting it mid-thrust and coaxing a whine from your throat and a growl from his.

One of his arms lifted from beside your head. “Can I?” he asked politely, letting it hover just a few inches over your breast.

“Please do,” you replied, leading his hand with yours, his wrist and fingers immediately catching up on how to grab it, squeeze it, roll it in his palm and toy with the nipple.

“Harder? Softer? Just like this?” he checked in, attentive and concerned.

“Just slightly harder,” you panted. “Slower too, please.”

His pace changed immediately, getting you to whine as you completely connected with his touch. The soft, slow massage was making you hyper-aware of every inch of skin, every single part of your breast, every nerve ending and hard edge and soft curve.

“I wanna take off my bra. Can I?” you asked in the heat of the moment.

Taehyung was vaguely confused for a second, so lost in the feel of you that he barely understood the question. “If you want that, I want that,” he replied, his breath laboured.

Quickly, you arched your back, Taehyung’s lips reaching the column of your throat and peppering it with soft pecks. “Do you need help?”

You tutted and moaned as his teeth scraped your skin lightly.

With some gymnastics, you managed to tug the garment out of your shirt, Taehyung moaning at the increased softness underneath his palm. “Goodness, they’re incredible,” he murmured, pressing his face against one, rubbing it as he turned his head side to side.

“Please, keep touching them,” you mumbled, your voice rough with the way you struggled to breathe.

He changed the arm propping him up, switching sides as he started to tease your other breast. “Does it feel good?”

“Yeah,” you managed to confirm before your hands grabbed his ass to push him against you.

He paused for a second.

“I’m getting out of control,” he warned you.

“And?”

“I’m gonna cum in my pants if we keep this up,” he confessed, purring as you nibbled his jaw. “Slow down, please,” he panted, lifting his hips away from you.

“Tae,” you called, breathing heavily, almost begging him.

“I want you a lot, ____, please tell me you do too,” he was almost feverish with need, his brow furrowed, his beautiful eyes glittering in the dark.

“Isn’t it clear?” you asked in return, trying to chase him on his retreat.

He tutted and pushed you down. “I want to hear it.”

“I want you, Taehyung. I need you. I want to see you lose control.” Your mind was gone, far far away, your brain malfunctioning as his curls tickled your upper chest.

“I don’t wanna go all the way,” he murmured, “I just… I just wanna—” he huffed out frustratedly. “I just want to make you feel good. And to feel you close to me.”

You bit your lip. “Maybe—”

“It’s not that I don’t want to make love to you. I really want to. But this is going so fast and I wanna savour every step. Take my time.” He pressed his forehead against your chest. “I just like you so much and I want you to know it means something to me.” He paused and you waited for him. “I don’t want you to think this is just a random thing to me, and I don’t want to be a random thing to you.”

“You’re not.” You cupped his cheek and pressed a soft kiss on his lips. “We can take our time—”

“You must think I’m a coward,” he murmured, voice filled with self-hatred.

You held him closer, trying to convey all your affection. “No, it’s okay. You’re okay. You’re safe with me. I get you, baby.” You rubbed the tip of his nose with yours. “Let’s take baby steps. We can just mess around. You want to make me feel good, and I you. No need to have sex to go there.”

He nodded. “I wanna keep touching you,” he murmured. “I wanna feel you with my hands.”

You blinked slowly, eager to feel his fingers on you, inside you. “That sounds great, baby,” you encouraged him, watching his shy smile and the gentle blush on his cheeks, out of exertion and shyness.

“Tell me if you need to stop,” he whispered in your ear before kissing the soft spot underneath it, his free hand moving down, from your breast to your stomach, slipping underneath your shirt, moving up against your naked skin.

You gasped once his palm cupped the underside of your bosom.

“Did I hurt you?”

You shook your head. “Feels very good,” you answered, caressing his hair out of his face, his eyes moving from your chest to your lips to your eyes.

“Are you okay with this?” he asked, reaching for your nipple with the pad of his thumb.

“Bless you, yes, baby. So good.” It was natural to trace his mouth with your finger, his lips parting to welcome it into his mouth. Your hips arched up, meeting his thigh to grind against him. You needed more pressure against your clit, your entrance clenching and widening as you felt wetness coat your folds uncomfortably. You refused to pressure him into leading his hand downwards, still you thanked several deities when his gentle fingertips started making their way to your belly button, dipping his digit in to study its shape, feeling all the ridges and tender skin. “It feels so cute,” he said after letting your finger out of his mouth, watching as you brushed it against your neck to dry it up. “I wanna make a little sculpture out of it.” He giggled. “Sorry, that’s so childish.” He shook his head.

“It’s adorable,” you replied, “it’s— Mmh, Tae. Yes.” He managed to scatter your thoughts across the universe once his fingers dipped into your jeans.

“Undo the button please,” he growled, reaching for the wet spot on your panties. “Darling dearest, you’re fucking drenched,” he said, a deep cry giving away just how desperate he was. “Can I get in your panties, precious?”

Mouth gaping, you nodded, an embarrassing mewl echoing across the room as he touched a slightly delicate spot. “That’s too sensitive,” you keened, a strangled purr leaving you once your back arched, his thumb relieving the disturbing pressure and wetness.

As slight friction began to build, Taehyung bit his lip, the vision of you so erotic and calming at the same time. It felt right, oh-so-right, to have you underneath him like that — maybe slightly overdressed, but adorably pliant and needy.

“Want them inside, darling?” he asked you, your head nodding yes quickly, without a shred of doubt. “Here, talk to me, sweetheart. Like this?” he murmured, waiting for your feedback.

“Yes,” was all you managed to utter, his digits hitting your sweet spot without even trying. “Rub there, please, stretch me,” you told him, guiding him as your hips started to roll, his thumb meeting your clit and causing a small whimper to exit your mouth before you clamped your lips around his neck.

“You feel amazing, darling. Soft and so hot and so velvety. You’re so dang slippery, it feels insane.” He kissed your head. “Want to make you cum so fast. I want to keep you up for hours like this, and then kiss you until you fall asleep. You’re spectacular, ____. I can’t take my eyes off you, my precious.”

You felt overwhelmed with the way he pushed his fingers inside you, pressing his long, strong, skilled, digits against your walls, stretching you so impossibly wide that you felt like you could probably fit four fingers in to the knuckles. But you didn’t have time to think much, simply arching your hips up and pushing your jeans and panties to your mid-thighs, trying to give him more space for action.

“Is the angle alright?” he checked in, binding his wrist a little lower, getting better leverage to finger you harder.

“Keep going like this,” you exhaled, your hand moving down, fixing his thumb as he struggled to find the right spot, “let me handle this, focus on the inside, please.”

He nodded and kissed your lips. “Sorry.”

You kissed him again. “No need to apologise— Yeah, right… there…” you said, starting to thrust up in earnest. “Clits are complicated but you’re doing so good inside,” you licked your lips, trying to ease the pain of them drying up with your and his breathing.

He bent down and chased the tip of your tongue as you ran it across your mouth, drinking in your soft hiccups and gasps as you neared your climax, his mouth crashing onto yours as you finally came apart underneath him, his kisses muffling your moans and cries.

Taehyung felt desperate as he slipped another finger inside you, giving you as much fullness as he could offer while you clenched around his digits, actually sobbing once you processed his generous offer.

It took you maybe thirty seconds before you could calm down, taking your fingers off your clit, whispering an “okay, slow down” to Taehyung, who halted the arching and pistoning of his fingers to simply press against your g spot and cup your mound with his palm.

“All good?” he asked, grunting a little as his arm cramped up.

“Yeah, are you?” you murmured back, noticing his wince.

“Cramp,” he huffed, squeezing his eyes shut.

“Want me on top? You’ve strained yourself already as it is,” you scolded him apprehensively.

He shook his head and withdrew his hand from your crotch, cleaning his fingers with lewd, erotic swipes of his tongue. You felt ready to begin all over again. “I need to be on top,” he said, drying his hand against his t-shirt before propping himself up on both elbows before bending down, hiding his face in the crook of your neck. “I kinda want to grind on you, if you’re okay with it.”

Nodding, you helped your hips up, fixing your clothes back in place but also leaving your zipper and button open. “Clothes on?”

You felt his head move in an affirmative motion, his hips starting to press against you. “I know I must look like a teenager to you.”

“It’s adorable. Makes me feel very young,” you said before chuckling. “It’s been so long since I felt this good with anyone,” you confessed, holding him to your chest, assisting his motions by moving your own pelvis in a wavy pattern. “It’s so comfortable. So familiar and nice,” you whispered in his ear before biting it gently. “You make me feel like I’m not an utter mess in this attraction thing.”

“You’re not a mess. You just feel attraction differently.” He managed to gather his thoughts and words long enough to reply to you. He thought it was important for you to feel that it was okay, that he didn’t mind, that all he cared about was how happy he felt by your side. “You’re hot, you’re smart. And you’re so…” He grunted as he found the perfect angle and pressure, his high rushing towards him. “So magnetic. And good…” Another purr left his mouth as he started humping you in earnest, going so fast you doubted you would survive having him inside you, his torso crashing on you as he hummed and bit the crook of your neck, crotch attached to your thigh as he pushed, harder and harder, his glutes impossibly tight under your palms.

“Yes, baby. I’m here, Tae. It’s all okay, babe.”

“So good,” he rumbled, still hiding against you. “So, so good,” he moaned again, your face tensing in a kind, elated smile.

“Lay on me, baby,” you kissed the crown of his head. You felt as if you were on cloud nine, and it had little to do with the orgasm and the freaky show. You loved his tenderness, his gentle approach, the way he had checked in on you throughout the whole night, wide puppy eyes staring at you in focus and adoration and wonder. And the way he had asked to take it easy, the way you had felt no pressure, no need to search for attraction, but finding it there, in the way his hands felt familiar and welcome and so, so loving, in his face and his smile and his stupid, stupid, ridiculously fluffy hair. There was attraction and even though you had asked yourself why at the beginning, you didn’t dare doubt it now. It was just like oxygen in your blood, like black holes and shooting stars and the moon phases. Undoubtable. Solid. Proven. Undeniable. It had become a main axiom to your existence.

I’m in love with Kim Taehyung.

It was like the world suddenly spinned the other way around. You let the revelation sink in, your hand running up and down Taehyung’s spine.

“You’re safe with me, babe.”

He nodded and nuzzled in closer. “Are you staying?”

“Yes, sweetie. You’ll be sleeping in my arms tonight, baby.”

You felt him smile against your neck before he found a comfortable position and closed his eyes.

Taglist is open

Navi: Chapter 1 — Chapter 2 — Chapter 3 — Chapter 4 — Chapter 5 — Chapter 6 — Chapter 7

#taehyung x reader #taehyung fluff #taehyung smut #kim taehyung x yn #thebtswritersclub #bangtansorciere #thetruthuntoldnet

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icequeenoriginal · 4 years ago

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The Pain of Secrets

Author’s Note: This was supposed to be fluffy, that was my original intent. But then my brain decided to make it super angsty. So I apologize. Also, I am not transgender. I’m using the information I learned online as well as from what friends who are have told me. I hoped I portrayed a transgender person correctly. I meant to finish this before the end of pride month but writer’s block did not let that happen. Stay safe everyone.

Summary: Roman hates secrets and he hates keeping them, but he still has one. Is it worth keeping from Virgil?

Warning: Fear of Rejection, transphobia, self-hatred, internalized transphobia, keeping secrets, crying, running away, surgery mention, not taking care of yourself, anxiety, divorce mentioned, inappropriate touching, bad past relationship, hurt/comfort, roman angst, body image issues, bad binding practices, fear of breaking up (Let me know if I missed anything)

Pairing: Prinxiety

~ Roman hated secrets. Even the word would cause him to have an icky feeling in his chest. To have secrets, you have to lie to the people you care about. Secrets were the reason his parents weren’t together. His mother kept her emotions and suspension secret while his father kept his intimate relationship with a young coworker a secret.

At age 9, Roman swore to his grieving mother when he found her crying in the kitchen in the middle of the night when he could sleep. The smile on his mother’s face was enough to make him never want to break that promise.

That only lasted a couple of months and it was all his stupid body’s fault. If he had just been born in the right body, it wouldn’t be an issue.

You see, Roman wasn’t born a boy. Everyone told him he was a girl because he looked like one, but he didn’t feel like it. He knew he wasn’t but he didn’t know why.

He learned about the word transgender when his uncle took to a very fun and colorful parade that summer after he made his promise. It would later be the first of many Prides he attended and where his uncle met his other future uncle.

It took a few days for him to muster up the courage to tell his mother but his drive to never have a secret was the final push he needed.

His mom accepted him, she got him on HRT and even bought him his first binder. Though, he did notice how there seemed to now be a distance between them. They did fewer things together, his mother slipped up with pronouns, and always seemed like she was herself back from saying something.

But it was fine because at least there were no secrets between them.

“Everything is fine.” Roman would say as he ignored how much that hurt him.

“This is fine,” Roman said to himself as he only applied to colleges out of state. He and his mom just needed some time apart.

“Everything is great,” He told his mom through tears caused by the stress of school and being on his own.

“It’s okay,” said Roman when his first boyfriend told him he couldn’t be with a ‘fake man’ anymore after a couple of months of dating.

“It’s fine,” said Roman his second boyfriend angrily dumped him when he found out that Roman is trans. Roman didn’t blame him, he hadn’t told him right away as he did with his first boyfriend. This was his punishment for it.

It was really all fine. Roman didn’t mind being alone, he could handle it just fine. He was fine with always coming home to an empty apartment and an empty bed. A home without someone to hold him, kiss him, reassure him.

…

No, no he couldn’t. But he was a good actor and every good actor can lie to themselves.

He, at age 25, decided to put off dating until after he got his top and bottom surgery. It just seemed like the easiest option. His HRT did as much as it could but it couldn’t get rid of that feeling he had every time he looked into the mirror and touched his chest. It was one of the few things he had gotten straight from his mother.

After a late-night of research, he came up with a plan. To get both surgeries, he needs 20,000 dollars in total. Damn you America and your expensive medical costs! Well, there isn’t anything he can do other than every time he got paid, he saves all the extra money he had left after paying his bills and groceries. It wasn’t fun, there was time he wanted to buy that expensive tablet or go to that bar but he wouldn’t touch the money. Not until he had enough.

It was the perfect plan, in his opinion, but the universe was never on his side. He went to the library one day to borrow a book since that was a fun free thing to do, and he accidentally bumped into a young man. After a quick apology, Roman noticed the man was holding a large book of fairy tales. That led to a two-hour debate about the messages of fairy tales.

The man’s name is Virgil and Roman was sure at that moment he is his soulmate.

They spent more of their days texting one another whenever they could. Their first few dates would consist of free things like walking through the park or sitting together in the library. It was lovely. It’s why Roman figured he didn’t have to tell him that he was trans. It wasn’t like they were going to become more than friends. Roman figured this is how their relationship would stay, sweet and simple. That was perfectly fine with him.

Then Virgil invited to dinner to ask him to be his boyfriend. Virgil told him he had never asked anyone else out before but he felt such a strong connection with Roman. Everything about that moment was perfect, the restaurant, Virgil, the music, everything.

It wasn’t until he got home did Roman realize he still hadn’t told Virgil his secret. Roman cried himself to sleep that night.

After that first date, Virgil seemed to only take him to movies or dinners. Places that cost money, money Roman did not have living paycheck to paycheck. Virgil had a high paying office job so he said he didn’t mind. Roman still, at least once a month, would use his grocery money to buy fancy ingredients to make Virgil dinner and eat ramen for the rest of the week. It was nice, Roman had almost forgotten what it was like to go out.

Roman loves Virgil, he told him on their 5th date. He loved him so much that every day he would want to tell him his secret but the fear of losing Virgil would take over and make him chicken out.

That led him to today, almost a year later, sitting in Virgil’s apartment where he was staring at Virgil as his past flashed in front of his eyes like he was Angelica Schuyler during Satisfied.

Why? Because Virgil was inviting him to go to the beach. A place where you wear a swimsuit. Pushing aside how much he hated how he looked in a bathing suit, that meant he had to take off his shirt.

He was so screwed.

A cold hand jolted him out his thoughts so quickly that a small yelp escapes Roman’s lips. Roman scared eyes lock with Virgil’s loving and concerned eyes.

“Ro? What’s wrong? Do you not want to go?” Virgil asks softly, gently rubbing his knuckles

“No! I do! I do!” Roman replies quickly, a bit too quickly to alleviate Virgil’s concern.

“Ro, princey, you don’t have to agree just because I suggested it. We can do something else.”

Roman could have burst into tears at that moment. Virgil was just so good to him. He should take the way out, it would just make everything easier. He oh so wanted to but the nagging voice in the back of his head shouted at him that it was a trick, that Virgil was testing him, secretly questioning why Roman wouldn’t want to.

So, Roman shook his head, “I do want to Virgil, I-I just need to check when I can take off of work. You know how busy the restaurant business is during the summer.” Roman replies nervously.

Virgil sighs, “Alright, I believe you.” Virgil leans back against the couch, “You should quit that awful waiter job, they demand so many hours from you and barely pay you enough.”

Roman stares off into the distance before replying, “I wish I could quit too but I need the money and you know how hard it is to get a new job.” Especially if you’re trans.

Virgil nodded, knowing that he was very lucky to have the job that he did, all thanks to his friend Janus. Still, he hated how the light behind Roman’s eyes dim every day he is at that job and the physical strain it had on Roman’s gorgeous body. He wishes there was something he could do that wouldn’t seem like a handout. It would be too much of a blow to Roman’s pride.

Virgil smiles, he has a perfect idea. He turns to Roman and asks, “Roman, what would you think about--”

Roman whines in pain and Virgil’s eyes widen in fear. “Are you alright?!”

Roman nods and waves his hand dismissively. “Just chest--I mean stomach pains. I’ll be right back.” Roman runs off to the bathroom. As soon as he locks the door, Roman rips off his shirt and binder. He gasps, taking a deep breath of fresh air.

He knows he shouldn’t be wearing his binder all day, he knows it is not healthy but he can’t help himself. He rather be what (he thinks) Virgil wants than be comfortable.

Meanwhile, Virgil is frowning and whispers, “Hey Ro? Want to move in with me?”

Roman pants as he sits on the toilet. His chest was killing him but he could not care less. He took a painkiller from Virgil’s medicine cabinet. Swallowing it dry, he puts his binder and shirt back through the pain. He gets up and leans up against the wall to catch his breath.

“This is fine,” he mumbles to himself like he does every morning, “Everything is fine” ~

Two weeks had pasted and Roman still hadn’t given Virgil an answer. Virgil didn’t bring it up, he knew Roman would give him an answer when he was good and ready.

Roman was pacing, in a big shirt and boxers, with his phone in his hand, open on it was his bank account.

Once he got home from Virgil’s apartment, he quickly checked how much money he had saved. He was surprised to see that he had $8,654 saved up. It had been a while since he last checked. He quickly called around to get top surgery that fit into his budget.

He had a new plan. He would get the surgery, he would go to the beach with Virgil about 3 weeks later, and Virgil would see his surgery scars. Then Roman tell him and they could figure it all out there. If Virgil broke up,

No more avoiding it.

His phone began to vibrate and Roman vibrate and Roman quickly answers it, “Hello? Oh hi, Dr. Travis!”

This doctor had excellent reviews and she was to be trusted. One pleasant conversation later and Roman had an appointment set for a week later for $6,000 with insurance covering some of the cost. He also calls his job, who approves his two weeks of medical leave.

He squeals as soon as he hangs up, this was going to be wonderful. He had to celebrate.

So he calls Virgil, “Stormcloud?”

“Hey Ro, what’s up?” Roman smiles, “I have great news. Four weeks from Tuesday, I can spend the entire day at the beach with you.”

“Jeez, your job really won’t let you catch a break, can they?”

Roman chuckles, deciding it was best not to mention he was one of the last days off he had after the ones he is using for his appointments and recovery for this. “Well, in any case. I would like to see you before then. I’m working the early shift tomorrow so I’ll be done by 1.”

Roman could hear Virgil smiling on the other side of the line, “Well, you’re in luck Princey. I only have one big meeting after lunch tomorrow. How about we meet for lunch, I hide you in my office while I go to this meeting and then we can go back to my place at 5?” “That sounds perfectly wonderful.”

The lunch was nice. They went to a cheap sandwich shop that was close to Virgil’s work and had a small debate on whether or not putting mayo on Salami was a good or bad thing.

Roman almost immediately regretted agreeing to sit in Virgil’s office. He sat silently, and almost immediately, chest started to ache. Even worse, Virgil’s office needed a key to get into, one that Virgil only had because it was his ID card. Something about security or whatever.

Roman sat in Virgil’s office chair for 3 hours, he kept time on his phone. The second Virgil opened the door, Roman practically threw himself into Virgil’s arms.

“Missed me?”

“Something like that.”

They took the subway home, and Virgil could almost immediately tell something was wrong. Roman seemed to keep fidgeting and had on a fake smile. Virgil contemplated saying something, but by the time his anxiety let him decide, the train had arrived at their stop.

Virgil figured Roman would tell him in due time. Right?

Once they arrive, Virgil sighs as he pulls off his tie. “I am going to take a shower, you can set up a movie or something.” Roman smiles and kisses Virgil, “Don’t be long.” “Excuse me princess, but you take over two hours in the showers, I will take all the time I want.” Roman laughs, “Touché, touché. Go on now. Hurry your cute butt back.” Roman gently pats Virgil’s butt to emphasize his point. Virgil sent him a playful glare and heads off to his bedroom.

Roman smile drops and he immediately takes off his shirt and binder. He loudly gasps and rubs his chest to ease the pain in his chest. He sighs and stretches, Virgil usually takes 30 minutes in the shower, so he was going to give him a 30-minute break.

Or he was...until he turns and sees Virgil standing at the end of the living room where the hallway is attached. He, like Roman, did not have his shirt on. Neither his pants.

Virgil opens and closes his mouth a few times before saying, “I forgot to mention, I-I-I have a bottle of wine.” He gestures vaguely to the kitchen,

Roman covers his chest with his arms, tears appearing quickly.

Virgil takes a step closer, “Ro...have you been...this whole time…?”

“I have to go,” Roman says as he runs to the door, shirt and binder in hand.

“Ro, wait--” Virgil makes a grab for Roman’s arm but misses as Roman runs out of the apartment. Virgil watches him go, knowing he shouldn’t run out in his boxers. He begins pacing, his nerves are on an all-time high, and he tries to steady his breathing so he can come up with a plan to talk to Roman.

Because they really, really, need to talk.

~ Roman didn’t stop running until he got home. Once he got in, thank goodness his keys were safely tucked into his pocket, he threw himself onto his bed and broken down. That had to be the most humiliating moment of his entire life. Virgil’s face had said it all, he was definitely breaking up with him.

He sobs and sobs for what it seems like hours until he tires himself out. He walks up at 4 am to 10 miss calls and 30 texts from Virgil.

From: Stormcloud

Ro, please call me back.

Princey, let’s just talk, please.

Babe, please, let me know if you’re okay.

I’m not mad. I just want to talk.

Roman. I’m not going to say what I have to say through text. Call me, please.

Roman shuts off his phone. He can’t face Virgil right now. He can’t face anything right now. His only saving grace is that he has the night shift at work. He closes his eyes and had a restless sleep.

His dreams were of Virgil walking farther and farther away from him. No matter how much Roman pleaded and begged for him to stay, Virgil just kept walking.

Once he walks up, he remembers reading somewhere that dreams tell the truth, and he knows his truth: Virgil does not want to be with him.

Roman ignores Virgil’s calls and texts between the Bad Day, as Roman dubbed it, and his surgery day. Though it started because Roman couldn’t face him, it then became just because of the surgery.

Roman didn’t like his job, for the most part, but he did have a friend. His name is Patton and he is the nicest person Roman has ever known. Patton was one of the few people who knew Roman is trans and he is a bug supporter in Roman’s life. Patton let him cover all of his shifts so Roman wouldn’t lose money on his time off. He was exhausted from all the work, but the happiness of what is to come pushed him through it. He stopped checking his phone as often as he normally would, despite Patton pushing him to go talk to Virgil.

”It may bit be as bad as you think kiddo,” Patton would say, but Roman was not sure.

Anytime he wasn’t working, he was making trips to the grocery store for his treatment or moving everything off of high shelves since he is not allowed to stretch his arms.

His bottom drawers are filled with baby wipes, scar cream, and ice packs. He also bought big comfy sweaters and ice cream to keep himself comfy.

Roman couldn’t sleep the day before the surgery. He felt every emotion attacking him at once. This was going to be one of the most important days of his life.

The surgery itself wasn’t as bad as he expected, though the anesthesia probably had something to do with it. He found out later he sang a love song to “a very lucky young man” through the 2 hours and 30 minutes. He was embarrassed, to say the least.

Finally came time to see the scars. He froze when the doctor told him. He was lucky to be facing away to the doctor. Could he do this? Would the scars look bad? Would this actually make him as happy as he hoping?

He let out a watery chuckle, he sounded like his boyfriend--his ex-boyfriend. Thinking of Virgil reminded him of all the breathing exercises he learned from Virgil.

He takes a deep breath for four seconds, holds it for seven seconds, and lets it out for eight seconds.

After doing it a few more times, he turns to the mirror. The tears are almost immediate. The scars were bright red but they were thin, as thin as his pointer finger. His chest was as flat as he hoped it would be. This is the happiest he has ever been.

He shakes Dr. Travis’s hand since he is unable to say words. Dr. Travis simply smiles at him and pats his back.

“Now sit down, I have to put the bandages on. Now, make sure to change them every day.” Dr. Travis says.

”Got it, thank you, doctor.” Roman says, managing to get his voice back.

”You’re welcome.” Dr. Travis replies as she gently wraps the bandages around his chest, ”Now, do you have someone coming to pick you up?”

”Yes, of course, as you told me to,” He wasn’t exactly lying, he was planning to call an Uber.

”Good, because all you have to worry about is recovering, okay?” she says with a smile.

Roman nods and soon after, Dr. Travis finishes putting on the bandages. He has to stay in the hospital for another hour to rest before he is properly discharged. He spends most of the hour taking a nap and only 15 minutes on the phone with Patton, which seems strange to him. Roman, once he is allowed to leave, puts on his red zip-up hoodie, ignoring the feeling of his heart pulling because he remembers Virgil buying it for him and heads out of the hospital. Dr. Travis gives him a treatment plan on the way out and Roman puts it into his pocket.

The Uber ride is pleasant enough, the driver lets him drift off in the backseat. He is woken up by the car jerking to a stop in front of his apartment building. He scrambles out of the car while apologizing to the driver.

He runs up the stairs to his apartment, each step making him more tired and as each second passes, the painkiller wears off more and more.

He weakly smiles as his door, knowing that a few behind it is his bed that he can pass out in.

He opens the door and is so shocked to see Virgil behind it that he can’t bring himself to move. Virgil says nothing as he walks over to him. Virgil wraps his arms around Roman’s waist and moves him into the apartment.

Roman yelps and finds his legs walking up to move with Virgil, ”W-W-What are you doing here?”

Virgil whispers, ”We’ll talk later, you need to get to bed.”

Roman doesn’t argue as Virgil half drags him into his bedroom. Roman lays down and Virgil reaches for his hoodie zipper. Roman tries to push his hand away but Virgil is much faster than him. Roman let's out a small whine as Virgil unzips the hoodie. Virgil shushes him and gives him a painkiller and some water. Roman happily drinks it.

As he is falling asleep, Roman says, ”I love you V…”

”I know, I love you too Ro.” is the last thing Roman hears before passing out.

Roman wakes up two hours later so feeling something cold touch his chest. He slowly opens his eyes to see Virgil putting an ice pack wrapped in a paper towel on his chest.

Virgil softly smiles at him, “Hey Sleeping Beauty, welcome back to the land of the living.” Virgil gently cups his face. “Stay still so that the ice can do its job. I’ll order food in a bit and put on a movie. What would you like to watch?”

Roman stares at him dumbfounded, but Virgil was not fazed. He fluffs Roman’s pillow without uttering a word. He then rubs Roman’s cheek and Roman shutters at the soft and intimate touch.

“What? How? Why…?” Roman had so many questions he wants to ask.

“When you weren’t answering your phone, I went to your job and I saw you working. That relaxed me enough to let you have some space. I still would walk by every day, hoping you’d see me, and maybe you would come. When I came by earlier today, your coworker came out and invited me in.” “Patton?” “Patton. He said he noticed me walking by and I told him about you. He spent his break talking to me about you. You have a good friend.” Virgil says with a smile.

“I know, Pat’s great.” Roman can’t help but smile back. “I’m guessing he told you about the surgery?” “Yup so I came here. Knowing you, you wouldn’t ask for help and try to take care of yourself.” Roman looks away and pouts, and Virgil kisses the pout away. The kiss makes Roman stare at him confused, but Virgil just continues, “So I asked your building’s maintenance guy to let me in to surprise you. I did not think that work, you should have seen me, I was so nervous, but he said he’s seen you let me in enough times and he said this was one time only so now I am here.”

Roman blinks at Virgil for a few seconds, trying to figure out what he says. Virgil sits there, so patient and understanding that it only manages to confuse “But why?”

“Why what?”

Roman began to cry, but he is too tired to care. “Why would you want to take care of me? I’ve been keeping a huge secret from you for over a year, I’ve been lying to you over a year. I haven’t been as intimate as I deserve to be and you probably desire to because I can’t be. I will never be a true man physically, no matter what I do. And the way you found out, not from me telling you. You should hate me, be mad, anything. I wouldn't hold it against you.”

Virgil sits on the bed and puts his arm around Roman, “Roman, I don’t know who told you otherwise, but when I tell someone I love them, I love all of them. Especially you, you are my boyfriend. You are everything I want and more. I love your body, I’ve loved it since we met. I wouldn’t care if we never had sex, if it met I could be with you. And don’t call yourself anything but a man, because I will fight you about it and have Patton help me.”

Roman laughs but stops, his insecurities taking over once more, “But the way you were looking at me that day…you looked so disgusted”

“I wasn’t, I will never disgusted with you. I was scared. I saw the binder and how red your chest was. I was scared that you were hurting yourself for me.” “Oh...I’m sorry.” Roam replies while lower his head. Virgil tilts it up, “Don’t apologize to me, you owe an apology to your body. I’ll make you do it too.” Roman pulls Virgil into a kiss and Virgil happily kisses back. They will be okay, actually better than okay. Virgil will take of Roman his whole recovery, taking his vacation time to do so. They would spend the time talking, finally no secrets between them. Virgil will ask him to move in as he drives him home from his checkup with Dr. Travis and Roman will happily say yes. Roman will finally let Virgil help me and Roman saves up the money for his bottom surgery and gets a better job with Virgil’s recommendation. Though he will miss working with Patton, they will hang out every weekend to make up for it. It will be a wonderful future.

But right now, they both just need to kiss and breathe because they are happy and together.

Taglist

I do not have a general Sanders Sides but if you would like to be tagged in all things Sanders Sides I post, let me know.

#thomas sanders #sanders sides #prinxiety #roman x virgil #roman angst #roman sanders #patton sanders #Janus Sanders #trans!roman #sanders sides oneshot #tw transphobia #hurt/comfort

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surveys-at-your-service · 3 years ago

Text

Survey #421

“hunted by hundreds and never to be caught / descent to wander, bring terror and take 'em all beyond”

Which do you prefer, donut holes, jelly filled donuts or normal donuts? Normal donuts. When you get old, are you going to make a will? I mean probably. Ever made your own definition for something on Urban Dictionary? No. What do you call your grandparents? "Grammy" and "Grampa." Do you like weddings? Not especially because I'm a bitter fuck. Do you want to live in a dorm in college? I never wanted to, so I never did. Have you ever had your tonsils taken out? No. Are you single/taken/crushing/confused? Single/confused. Is your best friend single? Yes. Is your first real best friend still there for you? I mean we have one another on Facebook, but that's the extent of it. Do you still care for your first love? Very much. I hope he's doing okay since his mother passed. What color is your blanket? Navy with black swirls. Are you listening to music right now? Yes. I am obseeeeeessed with Alissa White-Gluz's cover of Powerwolf's "Demons Are a Girl's Best Friend." Have you ever felt as if you lost your one true love? I feel like that all the time. But I should add that I don't believe there is JUST ONE person designed for you. There are way, way too many people on this earth to have just a single, perfect match. Which do you like better: Bowser, Mario, Luigi, or Princess Peach? Well I mean I always picked Luigi in Mario Kart, so I got a bias, ha ha. How many tattoos do you have? Six. Plenty, PLENTY more to come, though. Would you ever consider getting a mohawk? No. What do you like to do most in your free time? Do random shit on the computer. What’s your work title? Unemployed. Do you pay rent? I don't. What was the reason behind the last time you wore a bandage? I cut my finger opening up a cup of yogurt. Yes, I'm serious. What music artist have you listened to a lot lately? Powerwolf, lately. And Motionless In White. Who is taller, you or your best friend? Me. When was the first time you ever listened to your favorite music artist? Well, as a little kid, Mom would play some Ozzy in the car occasionally, and I actually loved "Perry Mason" so much that I would ask for her to play it. Growing up I'd obviously heard "Crazy Train" through random things, but I never truly listened to him until I got into middle school and went through my mother's CD case, discovering new music as I got into rock and metal. Do/did your siblings cause trouble? Nah, not really. If your siblings are old enough, what do they do for work? I honestly don't remember my half-siblings' positions, but my immediate younger sister is a children's social worker, and my older sis is a mammographer. Have you ever been jealous of your siblings? Jealous, no. Envious, extremely. They know what the hell they're doing with their lives and making shit happen. Do you still live with your parent/s or do you live alone/with a partner? I live with my mother. What feeling do you have the most difficulty in expressing? Jealousy. How do you think you would handle yourself in a crisis situation? Freeze up and probably die lol. Does any particular season make you happier than others? Why/why not? Yes, autumn. It's not hot as fuck, the air always feels so fresh to me, and I love the many colors of fall. It's just... chill. Can you adapt to change easily? Any examples? FUCK. NO. Do you see yourself as worthy of love? Why/why not? This answer can change from "yes, because I'm a good human" to "fuck no because I'm worthless" in 0.5 seconds. Do you think you are competitive? Do you really dislike losing? Not in general, but I can be in some areas. What would you be famous for? Fuck if I know. If you had to, would you rather dye your hair red or black? Red. I loved my hair when it actually took red dye well. What do you typically do on Easter Day? Go to my older sister's house. Have you ever viewed the moon through a telescope? No. Do you normally finish one book before starting another? Always. If you were given the chance to be immortal, would you take it? Heeeeeell no. Would you pierce your nipples for $100? Almost certainly yes; I mean that's $100 for something I can just take out if I don't like it. Have you ever dated someone who had a child? No. Would you ever consider adoption? Even if I wanted a child, no. I know I would need either the blood connection or for the child to be my partner's that I truly love. Do you tend to go for guys/girls with certain eye/hair colors? No, I really don't care how you look on the outside. Do you know anyone who plays guitar? Yes. Do you live within an hour of the ocean? More like two hours. What are you currently sitting/laying on? My bed. Have you ever dated a friend of one of your siblings? No. Did you have an imaginary friend as a child? An imaginary wolf, yeah. Which parent do you look most like? My mom, I think. Ever failed a test? Yes. That's all I did in algebra during my last college attempt. Do you have any friends who are famous? No. Your most recent ex breaks down and tells you they love you, what do you do? Well I know she loves me as a friend, but idk if she still does romantically, but either way, I'd tell her I love her too and ask if I can do anything for her. You and your last ex: who should hate who? Neither of us. We have a perfectly fine relationship. Do you believe you pick who you fall in love with? Definitely not. Last thing you ate? I had a peanut butter sandwich for breakfast. Are you obsessed with someone? *discreetly eyes Markiplier* If you had to write a brief message on a dollar bill that many people would eventually see as the currency circulates, what message would you write? I'd have to think longer on this, but definitely something about not putting so much worth into the money and not allowing greed to rule the individual. What serves as the greatest motivation for you in your daily life? The hope for a happy, prosperous future. If you were a multimillionaire, what do you believe you would be doing at this very moment? Well, it's morning and this is my prime time to really just chill and do my first scope of the Internet, so I'd probably be in a beautiful house in the woods of the mountains by a beautiful waterfall. I'd have the windows down to listen to nature, make sure via AC if necessary that it's cool... Damn, that sounds nice. If you could have a cookie jar full of anything you wanted, except money or cookies, what would it be full of? Hm. Perhaps a very motivational quote that I'd draw each day, kind of like fortune cookies, but actually good and applicable, ha ha. If someone were looking for you in a bookstore, in what section would they be most likely to find you? YA or fiction. If your ex came up to you and asked you to take them back, what would you say? Anyone but Jason or Sara would be an automatic "no." Jason would have to really prove himself. Sara, I'd be willing, but would ask her if that's what she really wants given our positions right now. Do you think Ke$ha is annoying? I don't know anything about her personally. I actually liked her music back in the day, even when I was all about metal. Last time you were hit on? No idea. Do you ever write in pencil any more? I always do if I have that option. I don't like that you can't erase with a pen. If you HAD to get a piercing (not ears) what would you get? At this current time, my right nostril again. What do you wish you had more knowledge about? Politics. Would you ever get someone's name tattooed on you? Noooo. Do you have a lot of scars? Yes. I scar very easily. Have you ever had stitches? Twice. Have you ever dealt with a divorce or parents fighting or any kind of abuse at home? Before my parents divorced, there was a lot of fighting. Do you remember the person you first kissed? Of course I do. Have you ever kissed someone you weren’t dating? No. Who was the last person you fell asleep with? Sara. Have you ever listened to music you hated just to fit in? "Hated," no. I just tried to get into bands that I just couldn't, but didn't hate. Ever been called babe? Yeah. What is your favorite Pop-Tart flavor? Chocolate sundae. Have you ever made your parents cry? Yeah, sadly. Do you wear glasses? Yeah. And yet I'm still blind with 'em. Have you ever made out with somebody on a bed? Yeah. Are you tan? Most definitely not. How did you meet the last person you texted? She kinda like, gave birth to me. Next big event? My nephew's fifth birthday. Ugh, how is he getting that old. Do you think you have to be skinny in order to be beautiful? Fuck off, no. There are some gorgeous/attractive plus-sized people. Have you ever made out on a couch? Yes. Has the last person you kissed ever seen you cry? Oh god, she witnessed me sob once. Would you ever get gauged ears? I want very small gauges in my bottom earlobe piercings. What is your favorite sushi? Ew. Have you ever been in a school talent show? What for? Noooo sir. What were you like at 17? Oh god... so sad and yet so happily, madly in love at the same time. I both love and hate that era. Tell us about your worst date. Haven't really had a bad one. I had one with Tyler that was an adventure that most would consider awful (flat tire, had to walk in the whipping wind), but I had fun, ha ha. What should be illegal that isn’t already? I dunno. What’s the song you most wish you had written? Probably John Lennon's "Imagine." What is the worst break up you have experienced? Y'ALL KNOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOW. Do your parents wish you were more successful? Oh, I am CERTAIN they do. They'd never admit it, I'm sure, but I know I'm disappointing. I had so much promise in school. Has a significant other called you unattractive before? WOW, no. Has a significant other ever called you by the wrong name? omg no Have you ever caught someone doing something bad? Cheating on their bf, yes. Has a dentist ever screwed up on anything when working on you? No, I don't think so. What is the worst birthday you have ever had? My 16th. I felt very, very unloved. I don't even like going into it. Have you ever been spit on by a llama? No. Have you ever locked yourself out of your car/house? The house, yes. With my elderly dog with arthritis, in the middle of winter after a good snow. I was freezing, sitting on the front porch and eventually crying. My phone was inside so I couldn't reach my mom, who was at work. As night came, I finally broke and went down the street knocking on my neighbors' doors, and probably the worst fucking one opened. With a gun in his hand. He was apparently an ex-sheriff, and he clearly didn't trust me. He was kind enough to let Teddy, who was incontinent and marked territory, inside (thank fuck he didn't pee in the guy's house), and he gave me a jacket, but Christ, we played 20 goddamn questions to see if I was legit, I'm assuming. I was beyond thankful when Mom finally got there when I used his phone to call her. And as it turned out? The door wasn't even fucking locked, our old dog just jammed the hell outta it by jumping. I was so, so pissed.

#survey #surveys #random questions #lyrics: ''beast of gévaudan'' by powerwolf

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sbwriel-cymraeg · 5 years ago

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Eddie Kaspbrak deserved better.

Let me start with this. IT, written by Stephen King, made into a movie in 2017 and then another in 2019, about a clown with a big forehead, who likes dining on children, and gets his ass kicked by a group of teenage misfits (and then again when said misfits are just about past their midlife crisis). It's a horror, it's creepy and it's gross, now you see, I don't do horrors. I'm an absolute wuss. I can't even walk into a creepy abandoned building without a plank of wood in my hand for protection, and at least two people on either side of me who would obviously be kidnapped first (and that gives me enough time to scream and run away). Anyway, I don't like horrors. So you can probably guess that there was no way in hell, or earth, that I would be watching something that involved a terrifying monster who drools as much as a bulldog (he should seriously get that checked). No way I was going to read the book, as much as I love reading, and wouldn't even consider the original from the 90s although the 90s rules the movie scene (don't argue, we all know Jurassic Park is the best movie of all time). But the thing was, I have a friend, and he can be very persuading (in the form of pizza and snacks) and also, I'm a huge McAvoy fan, and James Ransone, I've never seen that guy before but well, when I saw him in the trailer, hello handsome. And don't get me started on Bill Hader, man do I fancy that bloke... Anyway I'm going off topic. So blah blah, we end up sitting down one night, with our buffet and many cups of tea, and weirdly, we start watching IT Chapter 2 first, because he wanted to see it since it was new. I go into it with no bloody clue what was going on, who was who, why parents would let their kid out in the rain by themselves, or how nobody noticed a load of bodies leaking out of the sewer. I was asking alot of questions. But, here's the thing. Onto the whole point of this rant. Eddie Kaspbrak. Eddie Spaghetti. Eds. The cute, little, angry man who instantly caught my attention (not just by the fact that Mr Ransone is a handsome S.O.B). From the moment he sped down the road in his posh jeep, yelling at other drivers (I feel your pain Eds) to crashing said posh jeep because he was distracted by a phone call (bad Eddie!) He instantly stole my 28 year old, attracted to dark and handsome older men, heart. Of course, I had no clue about these characters, all I saw was cute, angry man, funny dork with glasses, red headed lady, that guy from New Zealand, man who lasted five seconds, handsome librarian, and Professor X, and of course that clown that lives in the drain. So, as the movie went on, Eddie became my number one (Richie following behind in second). I learnt all about him from my friend, and more about him during the film, and couldn't help but feel sorry for the little bastard. He had a wife that I could tell he didn't love who treated him like doodoo, as a kid his dearest mom was overprotective, controlling and gave him freaking placebos to make him think he was ill (the fuck Mrs K?), that made him so nervous about getting sick and paranoid beyond belief, and I mean, his job wasn't the most exciting. Not to mention he has anxiety worse than a nun in a whore house, and was obviously afraid the most out of the group. And then, AND THEN, the film decides to drop some hints about Richie. Ah, dearest Richie, who has perfect taste in men. He's in love with Eddie. In. Freaking. Love with him. You could tell by the way he was so protective of him, constantly made fun of him (we all know that's how dudes get their crushes attention) and of course, R + E. So, of course, nearing the end of the movie, there's me grinning like an idiot, having the thought of Eddie and Richie getting out of the final fight untouched, Richie declaring his undying love for his Eddie Spaghetti, Eddie admitting his feelings for his Trashmouth, getting a kiss in there, Eds declaring he was divorcing him moth- sorry, wife, and the two walking into the sunset to start a new life together, in a nice cottage in the hills, getting married, having three kids, five dogs, ten cats, and living happily ever after. But then, my hopes and dreams were shattered. Stephen, I'm looking at you. They killed Eddie. THEY KILLED EDDIE! EDDIE! Out of all the FREAKING characters they could have booted off, they chose Eddie the rage monster, the little man with a big personality, the least deserving to freaking die in my opinion. Stephen, how could you? How could you?! Why did he have to die? Why did they have to end his life that way? Why couldn't he have a happy ending like the rest of the Losers? Not including Richie of course. Oh no, they didn't just fuck Eddie over, they also fucked over Richie. Killing the love of his life, right after he saves him, bleeding all over his big ass glasses, calling his name softly, looking at him with his big, brown eyes. Yep, Richie probably went home after the Kissing Bridge and thought about Eddie every damn day of his life. But no, they didn't just kill Eddie, oh no no, they went a step further. They left his body to rot in the sewers. Yes Andy, I'm glaring at you, you evil, evil man. They didn't take the route that Mr King took in his book, or from the original IT movie (yes I watched that later on too) no, Mr A decided to have Eddie die all alone whilst the Losers finished off Pennywise, then have Richie go back and see his dead body, freak out and have hope that they can save him, hug him tight, and not let him go. And then, oh boy, and then, they have Mike and Ben literally FORCE Richie off of Eddie, and DRAG him out of the sewers. WITHOUT EDDIE. I'm sorry Mr Andy, but tell me, how could they, Eddie's best friends, the ones who were always there for him, who they loved and adored, leave Eddie there in the sewers, all alone, in the dark, dirty, graveyard that would have had Eddie crying at the thought? It didn't make ANY sense to me. If Ben and Mike had the strength to drag a struggling, six foot something Richie away from Eddie, then surely they could have picked Eddie up between them, and got him out of there. If I was Richie, I would have decked the lot of them, Losers or not. And that's where I got pretty darn mad. Eddie didn't deserve that shit. For one, he didn't deserve to die. And two, he didn't deserve to be left down there, to slowly decay. He should have been pulled out by his friends, Richie could have had a moment with him, Eddie could have been given a funeral where his friends, and especially Richie could have said goodbye. Then, they'd have had somewere where they could memorialise him, go back and place flowers and silly things like inhalers and red shorts on his headstone, have a get together and remember him and talk to him, somewhere where Richie could always go to, knowing that Eddie was put to rest properly, and somewhere were he could sit and cry to himself, remembering all the fucking good times they had as kids and how god damn hard he fell for the crazy little shit. But, nah, we'll just leave him in the sewers, under a collapsed house, somewhere the Losers wouldn't want to visit again, somewhere they can't have a funeral, can't put Eddie to rest, somewhere that has too many bad memories and would remind everyone of how exactly Eddie lost his life. So yeah, you can say I'm pretty mad about all of that. I know he's a fictional character, but damn, he didn't deserve that shit. Neither did Richie. And to make it worse, when I watched the first movie afterwards, Eddie was just as freaking hilarious, and ridiculous as his older self. Little Eddie was a force to be reckoned with, he was definitely still my favourite even as a kid. The dude who played him, huge kudos to him. How could you not like tiny Eddie? It also showed me a lot more about how Eddie grew up, by that I mean how his mother really did treat him, and boy did I hate the fact that he died even more! So yeah, I may have gone off on one a tad... I couldn't help myself, Eddie Kaspbrak has now got a big place in the fictional character side of my heart. Just goes to show just how much actors can make an impact on people's lives, and how real they make them seem! So, I've said my part, and it's pretty obvious what I think about the ending to Mr Spaghetti's story. Encase you didn't get how I feel about it, it sucked. Eddie Kaspbrak should have lived. Should have had a second chance, especially with Richie! Not all movies follow the ending of books, so why did this one have to? Why did Ben and Redhead get to have a happily ever after and Richie and Eddie didn't? Why didn't they at least make his death meaningful and give him the send off he deserved? In other words, Eddie deserved better. That should be the motto of the movie. That's me signing off, I'm going to go be mad somewhere else, because I'll never get over this movie. I'm a huge fan now, but man, the ending was as bad as Bill's endings. Oh and uh, fuck you Pennywise. Oh, also, if anyone's going to Wales Comic con this Saturday (you should, because James Ransone will be there, I know right, what are the chances?) come say hi. I'll be dressed in a yellow raincoat and green wellies, holding a red balloon... Don't ask why, I just like the colours. See you later, Losers.

#Eddie Kaspbrak #it #James Ransone #Richie tozier #it chapter 2 #reddie

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notsugarandspice · 6 years ago

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get you out my mind

eeeeee, I love my Losers so much, and I love Beverly, and I love cute flirty boys playing nurse just AH ♡

Not Rated, Meet-Cute, Skater! Eddie, Richie is in a private school & is #miserable, pretty Cali life, playing nurse

Read it on AO3.

Eddie hasn’t been able to sleep for a whole week. It all fell on him like a vicious monsoon in the middle of an open field. No hopes for cover.

It was just another sunny day, dreamy and pleasant, like most Cali days. The ocean had a pretty glisten, it wasn’t too crowded at the skatepark because the weather was more chilly than usual, and Bill agreed to go out instead of playing video games, which had recently been his favourite occupation. Eddie couldn’t understand for the life of him why a teenage boy would want to stay indoors. Well, he kind of could.

He used to sit at home a lot in elementary school. That’s all he did, really. His mom was overbearing to the point of insanity, and she refused to admit she had a problem. She and his dad were teetering towards divorce when Sonia’s diabetes finally made itself known, giving her a heart attack she couldn’t recover from. She never went for check-ups but loved taking her son. Eddie was only ten back then, he couldn’t remember a lot, but he never missed his mother as much as he probably should. The only memories of her he had was a lock in his door and a bottle of cold medicine that he didn’t need on the bedside drawer. And their constant fighting. As much as he hated to think it, everything was better now.

He flips over to his side, watching the way the drying laundry flops outside his window, uneasy with the morning wind. The Sun just started peaking over the horizon, Eddie can tell by the slightly dim light in his room devoid of curtains. He’s been tossing in his bed for the last thirty minutes, trying to calm his mind enough to let him get another half an hour of sleep. It obviously wasn’t happening. Nada. As hard as he tried, he couldn’t get the dark-haired guy out of his head.

He could never understand the whole thing with crushes. Eddie doesn’t fall for random people. It just doesn’t happen. Until last Friday, that is. The guy really didn’t try to stand out at all, quite the contrary, he was in his uniform, with a book in hand, occasionally glancing at the beach, all forlorn and beautiful. But something about him exasperated Eddie as if Richie was placed on that beach to personally taunt and distract him, all plans of peacefully skating totally ruined. The moment he saw Bill talking to someone on the bench (Bill’s board always ran away from him because he never listened when Eddie said you need more practice before you go crazy) he couldn’t shake the image out of his head.

Richie’s curls sticking out of the hair tie, blue eyes that seemingly changed contrast mid-conversation, all the freckles on his nose and lips. It’s like the image of Richie’s face was permanently stuck behind his eyelids, and the sounds of his slightly croaky voice, and the way that blue polo shifted around his chest when he shimmied on the bench, embarrassed about every adorable thing he’s said. It’s been a week, and Eddie still can’t get him out of his head. They talked once. This is getting ridiculous.

Eddie sits up tapping his foot on the floor, lost in his head completely. He goes to the bathroom on autopilot, rubs his face with cold water and moves down the stairs. Everything is starting to take shape as sunlight slowly creeps upward, all pretty and golden, and Eddie smiles before turning into the kitchen, an image of that shade on Richie’s skin perfectly clear in his mind. Frank is already there, sipping his herbal tea, wetsuit covering the lower half of his body.

“Aren’t you running late?” asks Eddie kissing his dad’s cheek.

Frank puts down the tea smiling and ruffles Eddie’s hair fondly. “I gotta pick up Marcy from her house so we can go together.”

Eddie opens the fridge door and rolls his eyes. Sometimes, Frank Kaspbrak is a tad too generous. “Dad, she lives in Malibu.”

“So? It’s barely a forty minute drive.”

Eddie takes out orange juice and pours himself a glass. “Yeah, if you go at five in the morning. And it’s not anymore, so you’re already late.” Frank looks at his son for several seconds, and Eddie eventually meets his eyes. “What?”

“You’re fussy, is all. Like your mama.”

Eddie’s eyebrows instantly draw together. “I’m not fussy. And don’t compare me to her.”

Frank cocks his head to the side in that parental manner that indicates that he’s crossing the line. “You don’t need to get like that anytime I bring her up.”

“Then don’t.” Eddie finishes the glass and puts it into the sink.

“I made you avocado toast,” says Frank, pointing at two pieces neatly placed in the frying pan.

Eddie smiles fondly and hugs his dad from the back, burying his face in his back. “You didn’t have to.”

Frank laughs and taps Eddie’s hands around his belly. “Sure, kiddo. You can’t keep eating Clif bars for every meal.”

“They’re good.” Eddie lets go and grabs the plate, headed towards their cozy back porch. He hears Frank say good doesn’t mean healthy and opens the screen door, the scent of the ocean making his stomach flip with excitement. He can just see a sliver of the dark blue water between a couple of houses several streets down. He might be able to go skating early if Bill doesn’t come up with another elaborate plan to stay indoors. Not that Eddie needs the company that much, but it’s always fun to go with someone else. And Beverly usually works every day of the week. Her showing up last weekend was a goddamn miracle.

He’s halfway through the first toast when Frank pushes the door open, a bottle of water in hand. He places it in front of the plate just when Eddie gets the first hiccup. “Right on cue.” He kisses the top of his son’s head and grabs his sunglasses from the table. “I’m out. I’m going to stop by the store later. You need anything?”

Eddie hiccups again and irritably slams the fist on the table. “No, should be-“ hiccup “DAMN IT- fine.”

Frank puts the fist out, and Eddie bumps him quickly before emptying half the water bottle. His throat calms by the time Frank leaves, but his mind drifts back to Richie and the irrational fear of never seeing him again. Don’t live that close. He might not ever come to that beach again. Eddie wallows in self-pity for ten more agonizing minutes before he decides to check the extent of his weekend homework. He might be able to finish everything before he goes out tonight.

—

Naturally, Eddie didn’t anticipate the amount of work that needs to be done by Monday, and since he has very serious plans for the rest of the weekend, he forces himself to complete most of it, excluding the reading that he could cram in before he goes to bed. By the time he finishes everything, it’s almost 5:00 PM and he picks up the phone to call Bill. He responds right before Eddie hangs up, already on the front porch to head out.

“Hello?”

“Bill? How long does it take to answer the phone?”

Eddie can hear the background music of a video game, and he knows the call is hopeless before he asks. “I’m buh-buh-busy.”

“Busy sitting on your ass? It’s Saturday. You really gonna stay home?”

“Did you call in t-t-to be my mom?”

Eddie drops the board to lock the front door. “Wow, mature. You really not going to show up?”

“Dude, I’m on the graveyard l-luh-level. I’ve been stu-uh-uck all day.”

Yeah, like your ass is stuck to that bean chair. “You really think it’s going to take you five more hours to finish it?” Eddie pushes the board forward and runs up to jump on it, swerving on an empty road.

“Have you ever played a v-v-video game, Eddie? -FUCK!”

“You know I have. Whatever, this is pointless. You know where I’ll be.”

“Sure. Have f-fun.”

“You too, Billy.” Eddie rolls his eyes and puts the phone in the pocket of his overall shorts, speeding up to grab a smoothie on his way to the skatepark.

He gets to the café across the street from the beach and orders the pineapple strawberry smoothie and asks to add kale, thinking that dad would be proud to see him trying. What he doesn’t need to know about is a mint chocolate Clif bar in one of Eddie’s pockets. The less you know…or something.

Eddie waits for the walking light to turn on while he sips on his smoothie, trying to make out the people at the skatepark across the road. He can’t see anyone he’s close with, just a couple of people from school he sees in the hallways. The light changes and Eddie is already halfway done with the drink, silently cursing himself for being a fast eater. There’s a heavy feeling in the pit of his stomach, and by the time he makes it to the other side, he’s battling light waves of nausea. And somehow, he still feels hungry.

He rolls through the skatepark to the sidewalk that leads to the beach, the sun still bright and warm in that particular May-California way. Eddie stops the board right before the sand, throws out the nearly done smoothie, and quickly takes the yellow Vans off. He walks barefoot towards the lifeguard post, his beady ankle bracelet shifting pleasantly as he moves. Eddie remembers the time when he hated the beach when the feeling of the sand between his toes seemed foreign and disgusting. Then Frank took up surfing and took his son with him every day. Now it’s home. Venice is his little getaway, a small paradise a mere mile away.

He gets to the post and drops his shoes on the first step, carrying the board to the top to make sure no one nicks it. Eddie knocks on the door and smiles wide when Mike opens it almost immediately, chewing on an apple. He waves Eddie inside and sits back on the chair. Eddie immediately grabs the large binoculars and looks over to the ocean, noticing a young couple slashing in the waves, happy and drunk judging by the redness on their faces.

“You’re late today.”

“Yeah, I had so much shit to do.” Eddie puts down the binoculars and climbs up to sit on the table, turned sideways to Mike. “Exams are in a week, and they all collectively decided to fail us.”

Mike snorts and takes another bite, looking off at the water longingly. Eddie sees his strong want to just go and surf as soon as he’s off which should be in less than two hours. Eddie takes the Clif bar out of his pocket and bites off almost half of it at once, much to Mike’s delight. He stifles giggles and picks up his phone to take a photo of Eddie with a mouth full of chocolate oats. Eddie pretends to dislike the attention.

Eddie is kind of grateful he doesn’t have Bill with him today - Bill and Mike had a fling last year that ended in their collective inability to hold a serious relationship. As it turns out, neither was ready for it. And Mike was older anyway: if Eddie had zero patience with Bill, the other had even less. Fortunately, they didn’t act hostile towards each other, but there was still a grain of awkwardness anytime they hung out. So Eddie tries to stop by alone.

They talk for almost half an hour, completely lost in conversation since they haven’t seen one other for a solid month. Eddie invites Mike to tomorrow’s bonfire, and he happily agrees, doesn’t even ask if Bill’s going to be there.

Mike sees someone struggling to make it out of the raging waves, and he grabs a lifejacket, sprinting down the steps with alarming stability. Eddie huffs an incredulous laugh and hops down to his shoes, carrying them to that same spot Richie sat yesterday. He cleans off the sand from his feet, puts the shoes back on and smiles at the lowering sunlight, gradually moving towards the horizon. He has about an hour of light, and he intends on using it. Eddie runs with the board and lets it roll just before the bend, sliding down gracefully, feeling free and happy. A couple of guys who usually hang out there whoop him and he shoots them a thumbs up.

Eddie gets to the other end of the park and stands on top, fishing out his headphones. He plugs them in and turns on Feel It Still, tapping his foot on the board with the rhythm of the beat. He quickly shoots Bev a text hoping she’ll have a chance to stop by.

Eddie skates smoothy for about half an hour, warming up, feels his legs move with less effort now, feet gliding on the smooth surface when he pushes. He ollies onto the sidewalk, high and easy, his lower body moving on its own accord. Eddie rolls towards the clearing with the rails and practices his jumps, scaling them as he goes. There’s an especially long rail he’s had his eye on for a while now, taller than others and he has all the intentions to actually go through with it today. He practices on smaller ones for a while, long enough for the Sun to almost touch the horizon.

He takes a deep breath and finally collects the courage to attempt scaling it. He fails three solid times, skating away with zero to none contact before he manages to even go halfway. It takes him some time, but he finally does it right, feeling light and invincible. Eddie continues practicing as sunlight moves to hide behind the water, and more people start showing up at the park.

But he makes a small mistake when he’s on top of the rail for the nth time, thinking he’s confident enough to avoid looking at his feet even for a split second. He lifts his head to look out at the approaching pedestrians, hoping one of them is going to be Beverly jogging with her skateboard towards him. It would take him next to no time to register the red hair and look back down. But what he sees instead is a face he hasn’t been able to push out of his mind, haloed in loose black curls, same perfect black glasses. Eddie knows he’s not nearly confident enough on this rail do to shit like that, and that’s how he loses his balance, the board tipping too much on one side, the wheels catching on the metal, and his body somehow does a full 360 in the air before he smacks hard on his elbows and knees, miraculously holding his neck to avoid grazing the forehead.

Eddie doesn’t fall. Even the idea of it shocks him enough that there are several seconds of numbness and slight deafness before the world seems to resume and he flips over, groaning slightly. He starts feeling the blood pulsing in both of his elbows and one of the knees, on the heel of his hand, and he doesn’t dare open his eyes, still in a state of mild shock.

He’d laugh if this was a regular thing for him. If he fell every day, somehow landing perfectly well on the board, sliding away to other’s cheers. But this simply doesn’t happen to him, he’s too careful. He’s not scared of pain at all, not scared of falling, but rather the implications of open scratches, his blood mixing with the dirt on the sidewalk, the leftover sand from the beach mere feet away, all the ger-

“Fuck, Eddie, are you okay?”

Eddie opens his eyes, somehow only now realizing that he’s been wrapped in himself on the ground for fuck knows how long. Richie is bending down in front of him, eyes wide and black eyebrows drawn together, the pink and orange of the sunrise reflected on his skin. He looks so beautiful that Eddie momentarily forgets what happened mere seconds ago.

“N-no,” he chuckles because his heart is stuttering and his mind is too occupied with this stupidly attractive and caring boy next to him that the pulsing in his elbows is replaced by the nauseating feeling of great, my crush just saw me fall on my ass.

Richie’s face relaxes slightly, and he takes something out of Eddie’s hair. Richie’s wrist comes close to his face, and he smells some sort of cologne. His whole body is buzzing. “Where’s your board?”

It takes Eddie a second to force himself to cooperate with the real world, and he looks behind him, seeing it at the end of the sidewalk, on the very edge of the park. He points at it, his elbow stinging harshly when it bends.

Eddie hisses, and Richie looks panicked for a second. “Wait here.” Nah, I’m not moving until you carry me to the ER in your noodle arms. The only form of transportation I accept. Richie runs towards the end of the park, jumping a little when a girl almost comes crashing into him, swerving at the last second. Eddie chuckles and just notices that Richie isn’t wearing his uniform (obviously) and has on some blue shorts, an open white button down and some nonsensical white boy t-shirt underneath. He looks amazing, clothes fitted well and hugging him all right. Eddie’s heart jumps when he sees the same style Vans on him, but in white, slightly dirty and dusty. Richie stops by the board to tie some of the hair in half-up-half-down, smiling back at Eddie bashfully as he does so. Wow, you’re so far gone, Kaspbrak.

“So, you’re Eddie?” asks a guy standing on the same spot Richie was earlier, arms crossed, a blank expression on his face.

“Huh?” Who the fu-

“Richie hasn’t stopped talking about you for the last eight days. He never stops talking, but it’s been especially annoying this past week.” Eddie looks at him in pure confusion, and the other’s face still doesn’t change. “I’m Stan, Richie’s friend from school.”

Oh. At least he introduced himself as a friend. “Yeah, I’m Eddie.” He tries to get up, starting to realize it might be impolite to talk to people in this position and leans on the heel of his hand, forgetting about the scrape there. He hisses and tries to lean on the other one when he sees an arm extending in front of him, slightly softer expression on the boy’s face. Eddie takes it with a smile, and Stan lifts him up like he weighs nothing, wiping his hands on the khaki shorts after. Eddie represses a snort, and he’s saved from some awkward small talk by Richie, who finally stops in front of them.

“Your board looks alright, no dents or anything.”

Eddie takes it out of Richie’s hands without so much as a glance at its condition. “I mean, it’s a skateboard…it would be weird if it didn’t have some scratches.” Stan snorts and connects eyes with Richie whose cheeks are tinted pink. Eddie feels himself figuratively melting into the ground. “Well, thanks for helping me. I think I’m gonna uber to the ER.”

Eddie gives the two of them an awkward wave, his stomach tumbling from the unwavering gaze of his crush. He chastises himself for ruining possibly the only opportunity to hang out with Richie. But not thirty seconds later there’s a hand on his bare shoulder, and Eddie turns, smiling when he sees black eyebrows drawn together.

“Eds, you don’t need to go to the emergency room.”

Eddie is momentarily offended, and he steps back slightly, feeling judged and mocked. But none of those things are reflected on Richie’s face, nothing but concern, really. He thinks maybe he’s overreacting slightly, but he can’t stop his brain from making a thousand scenarios of how this fall could result in an auto-immune disease or something. Not that that would be Richie’s fault. Eddie’s eyes fall on Stan who’s casually strolling towards them, his eyes searching something in the palm trees.

“Hey, are you okay?” asks Richie, grabbing Eddie by the elbow in the most gentle manner but one that still results in an embarrassing whiny sound. “Oh my God, I’m sorry, I-“

“Don’t worry about it.” Eddie can feel the heat on his cheeks, and his heartbeat is rising again, either from the touch or the stupid sounds that seem to escape his mouth around this guy. Either way, he can’t stop looking at the way Richie’s curls hug his ears, or how his blush spreads all the way to his chest, and Eddie forgets the pain for a while.

“Um…my friend works at this café across the street. They have a first aid kit and everything. I could help patch you up,” says Richie with a hand on his neck and the sweetest crooked smile Eddie has ever seen. He’s pretty sure having Richie’s hands on his knees would quite literally give him a heart attack, but he nods nonetheless, too enthralled by the possibility of spending a little more time with the guy.

Stan finally makes it to their awkward little bubble and reaches something out to Eddie in an outstretched hand. It’s Eddie’s phone, seemingly scratched but miraculously void of cracks. I really need to get myself a phone case. “Thank you.” Eddie puts it in the pocket of his overall shorts, and when he lifts his eyes Richie is staring, a dopey grin on his face. “What?”

Richie’s eyes lift, widening a little from being caught. “Nothing, just…love the outfit.” Eddie would think he is being mocked if not for the quiet way Richie said it, and the prompt roll of Stan’s eyes that Eddie wants to think signifies wow, you’re so far gone, man.

“Thanks.” Eddie puts down the board but thinks better of it and grabs it back up. He doesn’t want to tumble in the middle of the crosswalk because of the stinging throbbing in his knee, and embarrassing himself in front of Richie for a second time is definitely not going to make him more appealing in the boy’s eyes. So he silently walks in front of the guys, turning only once to see Stanley smack Richie on the shoulder, much to the other’s chagrin.

Eddie knows this café well but has never been inside before. They have a small to-go window on the side where he always gets his smoothies, mostly reserved for soaking wet surfers who aren’t allowed indoors. Eddie opens the door and holds it with his sneaker, letting Richie and Stan in. Stan nods his head, and Richie salutes him, making Eddie giggle. He then falls behind, following them to the register.

The whole place is full of the cutest pastel colors: pale blue counters, baby pink and white walls, canary yellow tables. The atmosphere is peaceful, and Eddie easily recognizes Alina Baraz coming through the speakers. Everything smells like vanilla and tropical fruit.

Richie beats his fingers on the counter, imitating bongos and Eddie just notices how much more relaxed he looks in the company of his friend. It makes Eddie long to know that side of Richie, carefree and happy. He hopes to see that someday.

A man comes out the backdoor, yellow apron on, and his face instantly lights up upon seeing his two friends. He extends a fist to Richie, but the other leans over the counter to clap the boy on the back. The guy laughs, and his cheeks redden slightly underneath a growing beard. Stan only raises a hand to him and smiles, crossing arms behind him. He catches Eddie staring and cocks an eyebrow. Eddie steps in front of the pastry display case to avoid having a conversation with Mr. Unapproachable.

“Haystack, let me introduce you, this is Eddie. Eddie, this is Ben.” Richie gestures between them and they wave at each other awkwardly. “Hey, do you still have that first aid kit in the back?”

Ben furrows his brows, looking at the expanse of Richie’s bare limbs. “What’d you hit this time?”

Richie sends him a finger gun and then gently turns Eddie’s arm to show a nasty scrape on the elbow. “Not me, this time. Eds needs some help.”

“Not my name,” mutters Eddie under his breath, looking at Richie from under his lashes. The other merely smiles wide, hands in his pockets, rocking back and forth on his heels. Carefree and happy, huh?

“Looks bad, Eddie. Here, follow me.” Ben waves a hand and goes to the other side of the coffee bar, lifting the opening for the rest of them to pass through. Only Stan hasn’t moved an inch, curiously studying the menu as if he’s never seen it before.

Ben pushes the backdoor leading to a small kitchen and further down to the freezers. There’s an office table right behind an enormous industrial sink and Ben steps on his chair to retrieve the first aid kit from the shelf. He gives the box to Richie, probably out of habit, and points to Eddie’s skateboard.

“Ah, you skate. That explains the…” Ben walks around Eddie to assess the damage, “three bruises. Damn. Happens a lot?”

“Not really. I don’t fall.” Richie snorts, and Eddie shoots him a glare.

“You need my-“

“No! I’ll help him. You go on, Benny boy, you have customers waiting.” Richie clutches the box to his chest, smiling wide, eyes darting between Eddie and Ben. Weirdo.

Ben lifts his arms in defense and huffs a laugh. “Whatever you say. Holler if you need me.”

He disappears behind the service door, and Richie turns to Eddie, lips twitching a little. “Um…you should probably sit down.” Richie points to the chair, and Eddie puts the board underneath. He tries to get comfortable, folding the hands in front of him but then his elbows bump into the jean fabric and he suppresses a hiss, putting his palms on top of the thighs instead. Richie leans in front of him, his chin on the bony knee, ruffling through the contents of the box somewhere on the floor.

“You get hurt a lot?”

Richie lifts his head with wide ocean eyes as if he’s half-surprised Eddie is sitting in front of him. “More than I probably should.”

“Why, because you don’t skate?”

Richie chuckles and the sound makes Eddie’s heart beat faster. “No, because you’d think I’d be in control of my body by seventeen.” He gets up and walks towards the sink, washing his hands. Eddie watches his face intently, seeing it relax and then go back to a contemplative state, and he wants to ask what the boy is thinking. I wonder if I make him nervous as much as he makes me. Richie bends down to pick up some tissues from the box and goes to wet them, settling back in front of Eddie after.

“Oh, um…you might wanna…they’ll probably get dirty.” Richie points to the Vans, and before Eddie has time to react, Richie takes one off with his left hand and puts it on top of the board. He fidgets on the spot with a clean wet tissue and decides to put it in the box while he runs back to wash his hands. Eddie wonders if he’s this thorough when administering his own cuts but he’s grateful nonetheless. If Richie touched his knee after touching his shoes, he might yell loud enough to scare all the customers.

“You know, you don’t have to do all this for me. I know how.”

“Thought you don’t fall?” He cocks an eyebrow, but his face almost instantly changes to something wounded. “Do you not want me to help?”

“No, I- that’s not what I meant. I just- forget I said anything.”

Richie leans in front of him in the same manner, and their eyes connect, making Eddie’s skin tingle. “Are you sure you want me to continue?”

“Yeah.”

Richie smiles in relief and picks the tissue back up. “Okie-dokie.” He gently presses on the knee, then rubs around it cleaning the dirt and the dried up blood. Eddie’s breathing gets slightly ragged when Richie’s face gets closer, his hand on the back of the knee, inspecting for debris. Richie wipes the small dry stripe of blood that trickled down sometime after the fall.

“You’re really good at this.” He is but the main reason Eddie speaks is to distract himself from the hurricane of inappropriate thoughts.

Richie smiles and a blush tints his cheeks as he absentmindedly wipes Eddie’s calf. “I guess. My own fault for falling so much.”

“Right. Like a baby giraffe.” Eddie can’t help but grin. That image hasn’t left his mind since last week.

Richie bashfully pushes his glasses up and folds the tissue in half. He goes to the side of the chair, looking over the wound on Eddie’s elbow. There’s one running down the forearm too, a lot more mild but stinging nonetheless. He wipes there too careful and slow, and Eddie feels his arms cover in goosebumps anytime Richie’s fingers connect with the skin. Richie goes behind the chair to do the other arm, and Eddie tries to listen to the sound of plunking water drops in the sink instead of the boy’s breathing. He can feel his back cramming and ass numbing from sitting in the same position, but he doesn’t want to be rude by moving or doing anything to accidentally deprive himself of Richie’s touch. Eddie patiently waits for his wounds to get cleaned and for Richie to crawl back to the front to finally shift on the chair.

Richie gently turns Eddie’s hand, wiping the scrape there. Eddie fights a smile when he sees the contrast of their skin and how small his hand looks in Richie’s. He spares a look at the boy’s face and the length of his lashes kind of takes Eddie’s breath away.

“Are you not gonna..?” Eddie points towards the small hydrogen peroxide spray in the corner of the box.

“Nah. I used to do it as a kid but I’ve heard it does nothing but irritates the skin, so…” Richie takes out a couple of bandaids from the box, assembling them on top of Eddie’s thigh. He smiles up and opens the first one, putting it on the upper half of the knee scrape.

“What’s up with Stan?”

Richie is so taken by the question that he loudly laughs, angling his face down to look at Eddie from above his glasses. “Is that a loaded question?”

“No, I just- He’s so…”

“Reserved? All don’t-talk-to-me-I’m-intimidating?”

Eddie cocks his head and huffs a laugh. “Yeah.”

“I don’t know. He has strict parents.” Richie opens another band-aid and fits it under the first one. “He’s always been like that.”

“How long have you two known each other?”

Richie moves to the side to put a little cross on the elbow. “Here, keep it bent- Um…probably since sixth grade? I’ve been in that school since elementary but Stan the Man joined in middle.”

Eddie hums, and a question slips out before he can stop it. “Is he a friend?”

There’s a long stretch of silence afterward, and Eddie wants to either swivel the chair and aggressively demand answers, or run until he gets to the ocean. Either way, he’s near a death wish at the moment. He stares forward, avoiding eye contact.

“What are you asking?” Richie’s question is a lot more mature and calculated than Eddie expects, and it throws him off for a second. What does he want?

“I don’t know. Just curious.”

Richie chuckles but doesn’t say anything, moving behind the chair to do the other elbow.

“What?” Eddie is growing exasperated, either with himself or Richie, or Richie’s proximity, or how nice it feels to have Richie’s fingers on his bicep.

“Don’t get defensive.”

“I’m not.”

Richie finishes the work and collects the wrap in the ball, walking to throw it out by the sink. “It’s cute.”

Eddie can feel his eyes widen to a laughable degree. “What’s cute?”

“Not what, but who.” Richie turns and nods towards Eddie who’s just about to explode from the last minute of rollercoaster emotions.

“I’m not.”

Richie sits on the balls of his feet to close down the box. He puts it on the table and stays in the same position to look at Eddie. “Is this a scenario where you expect me to convince you you are?”

Eddie leans forward, their faces now so close together he can feel the spearmint on Richie’s breath. He didn’t notice him chewing so it must be Altoids. He suddenly has the strongest desire deep in his belly to crash their mouths together. “I don’t expect you to do anything.”

“Why did you ask about Stan?”

Eddie’s eyes dart towards Richie’s lips, pink and inviting. “Why did you ask why I asked?”

Richie laughs, and his head falls forward, so close to Eddie’s nose that he can smell the shampoo the boy used. “We’re doing this now, huh?”

“You didn’t answer.”

Richie lifts his head back up and stares at Eddie’s lips for a while before responding. “Stan’s just a friend.”

Eddie grins wider than is probably socially acceptable and slaps both hands on his thighs, making Richie laugh. “I knew it!”

“You seem excited.” Richie grabs the shoe from the board and puts it under Eddie’s foot. He slips it on, and Richie helps him with the heel. He doesn’t miss the ankle bracelet, and he moves it up and down before looking back up at Eddie.

“What are you doing tomorrow?” Eddie doesn’t know if it’s their proximity or the knowledge that Richie’s single that does it, but he suddenly feels bold and hopeful.

Richie gets up and rubs the back of his neck, lost in thought. “Uh, nothing but homework, really. Why?”

“There’s a party on the beach tomorrow night. Well…more like a small bonfire.” Eddie gets up from the chair, and he suddenly feels awkward and small, his heart stuck in the middle of his throat. “Will you come? You can bring whoever you want.” Unless it’s a date. Then I’ll throw him into the fire.

Richie’s blush spreads down to the collar of the white shirt, and he smiles so wide it makes Eddie’s chest hurt. “Sure, I’ll be there. Can’t miss an opportunity when a cutie like you asks me out.”

“I wasn’t-“

“Yeah, right.” Richie rolls his eyes and walks towards the back door, basically escaping their awkward conversation. Which Eddie is infinitely grateful for because he might’ve jumped Richie in that sterile backroom.

He walks out after checking that they didn’t leave a mess and notices that the café is mostly deserted now. Most people would be at the bar at this time of night. The group is sitting at the large table closest to the register and Eddie’s eyebrows shoot up when he sees a curly redhead standing by it, talking to Ben animatedly. “Bev?” She turns towards him and beams instantly. Her board is abandoned on the floor when her arms wrap around Eddie, slightly lifting him off the ground. “How did you know I was here?”

“Your location, dummy.” Her short hair tickles his ears, and he pulls away with a small squeal. She turns his arms to see the damage and gives him an adorable pout. “My boo got a boo-boo.”

“You wish I was your boo.”

She groans loud, throwing her hands towards the hypothetical sky. “God, I do!”

The boys at the table laugh, the entirety of Ben’s attention on all Beverly’s movements. Richie, on the other hand, doesn’t take his eyes off Eddie and it’s making him restless. He walks towards the table and touches Ben’s shoulder gently. “Hey, thank you for the kit.”

Ben puts a hand on top of his and smiles bashfully. “Don’t worry about it.” He gets up from the chair and moves in the direction of the register. “By the way, do you guys want anything? I’m closing soon.”

Eddie feels something tickling his fingers and looks down, seeing Richie’s hand hovering there, uncertain. “You want something Eddie-Spaghetti?”

“I’m sorry, what did you just call him?” Bev leans on the table and looks at Eddie with raised brows that translate to you better spill ALL the tea, immediately. Her eyes drift down to where their fingers helplessly gravitate towards one another, and she sticks the tongue between rows of white teeth, trying to be all playful and cute. Eddie hates and loves her all at once.

“He has a thing for nicknames, I think,” says Eddie and Stan hums in response, too enthralled in his book to actively participate in the conversation. Where he got it is a mystery to Eddie.

“Are we here to discuss me or your empty stomach?” Richie lifts himself off the seat and grabs Eddie by the hips, stubbornly leading him towards the display case. Eddie’s first instinct is to swat him away but it’s Richie, and his lower body is all tingly where long fingers sneak through the jean fabric, touching the barely covered skin of Eddie’s waist.

Eddie’s brain doesn’t function enough to make a conscious food choice, so he picks the first thing he sees - tomato mozzarella panini and Richie gets the same, ordering himself some kind of a green bubble tea. Eddie asks for a bottle of water, and he almost flips shit when Richie takes out his wallet to pay for both of them. But then Ben shares his employee discount and Eddie doesn’t feel that bad. The whole thing makes his stomach feel all fuzzy as if they’re on a date. Which they’re not. But he wants it to be and daydreams about exactly that when they sit down to eat, surrounded by their friends.

Ben closes the café about half an hour later, and they hang out with him until he leaves. Bev is very enthusiastic to help, volunteering to wrap the plates with pastries and wipe the counters while Eddie and Richie flip all the chairs to go on top of the tables. Stanley locks all doors and documents the expired products and Ben repeats several times that he’s infinitely grateful and they’re all angels. Most of the words are directed towards Beverly though. He’s not fooling anyone.

The night is over quicker than it began and Eddie finds himself stalling, buying time to talk more, participate in some banter, maybe offer to teach someone how to skate. But as they file out the back door, he can see that all of his friends are yawning, and he feels the exhaustion push heavily on his shoulders. Eddie is usually asleep by ten, and he wants to make it back home to do some of the school reading. He knows he’s going to be too lazy to do any of that tomorrow.

Everyone walks towards the parking lot, and Richie falls slightly behind as if expecting Eddie to temporarily stop him. Which he does, grabbing the tall boy by the elbow, making him turn. “So, will you come tomorrow? Around eight?”

Richie grins and tugs on the strap of Eddie’s overall shorts. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world, Eds.”

Eddie rolls his eyes at the nickname but doesn’t say anything. This guy is really rubbing off on him. “Thanks for patching me up. You really don’t seem like a kid who’d know stuff like that.”

Richie lifts his shirt and Eddie sees a small Finding Nemo band-aid on his ribs, but it only takes him a second to notice that. He spends the rest of the time studying the outline of the dark trail of hair that leads to the silver button. “This is me successfully making it to my front door on Friday. There was one on my chin, but it wasn’t as bad.” He shrugs and lets the shirt go, smiling at Eddie.

Eddie chuckles and puts the board down, moving it back and forth with his right foot. He wants to say so much and so little at the same time, but nothing comes out. Eventually, Richie quickly bends down and kisses him on the cheek. It’s so soft and swift that Eddie doesn’t have enough time to register what happened until he sees Richie walking backwards towards the rest of the group congregated around the only two cars at the lot. Eddie touches the burning cheek, his abdomen tumbling violently. When Richie finally turns back, Eddie lets his hands drop and laughs stupidly at the ground, dazed with all the events of what he thought would be an average afternoon. He feels a crazy buzz running through him as if someone just kick-started his body. Everything seems bright and pretty, and he feels so happy he could scream. He will scream in his pillow when he gets home.

He pushes off in the opposite direction after waving everyone goodbye, skating fast with no care in the world. The bruises are a dumb reminder to be careful, but he can’t think of anything coherent right now. He got to see Richie again, got to spend time with him. He even got a kiss. He smiles like an idiot and halfway home he hears another board behind him. He stops and turns to see Beverly speeding towards him, all smiley and giddy. She halts to his side and gently punches his arm.

“Okay, that was the most interesting group of people I’ve ever met.”

“Yeah, they’re pretty cool.”

“Are you gonna tell me about the tall, mysterious guy?” She wiggles her eyebrows and makes a miming move of covering her face with a cape like a vampire.

Eddie giggles and pushes off again, down the empty street. “Are you gonna tell me about the cute coffee man?”

She laughs and goes after him, swerving from side to side. “Awh, dammit! How did you catch on to that?”

“I see everything.” Eddie puts two fingers to his eyes and directs them back to Beverly. “Wanna come over?”

“Duh! Why do you think I’m skating in the opposite direction of my house, dumbass?”

They come back to the Kaspbrak residence and see Frank sleeping on the chair outside, snoring so loud Eddie’s sure they’re going to get a noise complaint. They stifle giggles as they gently wake him, half-leading him down the hall towards his bedroom. They end up talking much longer than Eddie thought they would, running way past midnight. They’re so entranced in it that by the time Bev runs out of the bathroom half-naked, seemingly interrupted by something she remembered, Eddie knows what she’s going to say before he hears it. With all the talk about their crushes, he’s shocked he forgot about it himself.

“Oh my God, you’re a birthday boy! Happy Birthday!” She squeals when she bends down to hug him, and he laughs when the cold drops land on his face and pajamas.

They whisper more in the darkness of the room, the reading forgotten and Eddie falls asleep daydreaming about a birthday kiss, and blue eye lit up by the warm glow of the fire.

Perma Tag: @studpuffin @j0ys @its-stranger-than-you-think @tinyarmedtrex @d-nbroughs @aizeninlefox @constantreaderfool (I’m removing some people who don’t interact - I’m not here to force my work on anyone, so no hard feelings. Let me know if you want to be removed/added to a perma list or a specific fic ♡)

#reddie #my writing #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #ben hanscom #beverly marsh #bill denbrough #stanley uris #mike hanlon #all the fluffy beach things #please

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rasytastore · 6 years ago

Text

The Best Fishing Guide

Steve Huff is lxv. He has been a fishing guide for the cardinal of these years, initial within the Florida keys and currently within the swamp town space, wherever he captive in 1996 along with his bright-eyed spouse, Patty. Huff’s specialty is fishing the thin water flats for malacopterygian, bonefish, permit, and snook, and he has guided his shoppers into unnumberable world-record fish. Last year he was inducted into the International sport fish Association’s Hall of Fame, that is that the fishing world’s town. In his book, A Passion for malacopterygian, Andy Mill calls Huff “bar none, the most effective malacopterygian guide alive, the most effective there was and also the best there ever are.” Marshall Cutchin, a former Keys guide and also the editor and publisher of the fly fishing web site midcurrent.com, goes even any, occupation him “the best guide who’s ever lived, period.”

This type of speak embarrasses Huff, United Nations agency prefers to shower accolades on others. “Steve could be a very humble guy,” says Sandy Moret, United Nations agency owns a fly search within the Keys and has fished with Huff for 3 decades. For Huff, it’s all pretty easy. “I’m simply a fishing guide,” he says. “My job is to form AN angler’s dream come back true.”

His own dreams area unit a part of the equation, as well. Guiding, at its essence, could be an unselfish endeavor, meshed to the happiness and success of the paying client, the “dream creating.” except for Huff, there's the rush—of being on the water nearly on a daily basis and making an attempt to work out the puzzle bestowed by the tides, the wind, the clouds, the fish, and also the angler’s ability. The climax, that final puzzle piece, is that the golf shot and landing of the guided angler’s targeted fish. Huff can’t live while not that rush.

Huff was born and raised in Miami. once he was 10, his father gave him a fishing rod, the primary piece of tackle he’d ever in hand. His father left the future day. Huff would neither see nor speak to him once more. “He was AN alcoholic and a gambler,” Huff says. “He in all probability died during a ditch somewhere.”

Huff is tough regarding the impact that his father’s going away might need to be had on his life. “I assume we have a tendency to age to be no matter we have a tendency to were meant to be,” he says. And anyway, thereupon rod, his father provided him with the primary tool for what would become his life’s permanent passion. Huff took the rod, solid into a Miami canal, and caught a two-pound robalo. “That was it,” he says. “I was done.” He biked everywhere town, fishing in backyards and canals. {one day|at some point|in the future|someday|sooner or later|in some unspecified time within the future} he sneaked down a hole in the middle of a causeway bridge. He solid a lure from a ladder and caught a twenty-seven-pound robalo, to the current day his largest. He knew then that he would be a guide sometime.

On the water within the swamp. PHOTO: MATTHEW HRANEK

THE SILVER KING

On the water within the swamp.

While attending the University of Miami, Huff studied marine biology. once he graduated, he told his mother of his career plans. She wasn't happy. “She told ME that fishing guides were a bunch of drunks and bums which i might ne'er quantity to something,” Huff says.

Still, she cosigned a loan thus Huff might purchase his initial guide boat. He captive to the Keys, and on November 1, 1968, he took out his initial shopper. “Poor bastard,” Huff says. The day was windy and overcast and fishless. The guy ne'er came back. “I had no clue what i used to be doing,” Huff says. “I didn’t even grasp what I didn’t grasp.”

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But Huff resolves to work it out. He poled for miles, into the teeth of twenty-five-knot headwinds. (“Best dray horse I’ve ever seen,” Cutchin says.) He scouted and discovered new spots. He tied his own flies, designed his own boats, fictitious new fishing knots. He stayed out longer than anyone else, creating the run back to the dock in complete darkness. He ne'er gave up.

And at intervals many years, people that fished with him once ne'er needed to go away him. “He’s intense and he expects you to match that intensity,” says one among his shoppers, the author Carl Hiaasen. “It causes you to a more robust angler.” Bill Hassett, an equipment store owner in St. Louis, Missouri, has fished with Huff for cardinal consecutive years. Lenny Berg, AN specialist in Fort Pierce, Florida, has been with him for xxxv years. Hiaasen could be a relative newcomer, having fished with Huff for fifteen years. “I simply feel lucky that he let ME on his boat,” Hiaasen says, laughing.

Those who do fish with him tend to urge greedy. The late Del Brown once reserved Huff for cardinal days one year to fish for allowing within the Keys. Tom Evans, holder of sixteen world records, once fast him in from March one to Gregorian calendar month fifteen. Huff currently incorporates a list of regarding fifteen shoppers, to whom he's intensely loyal (he turned down a visit with George H. W. Bush in favor of 1 of his already-booked regulars). He has taken on specifically one new shopper within the last twenty years.

His shoppers became his dearest friends. “When you’re during a boat along for 10 to 12 hours on a daily basis, you quickly get past the tiny speakers,” Huff says. “You laugh and you cry alone.” One shopper perpetually complained regarding his spouse for years. Hoping to vary the topic on the water someday, Huff flat out told him he ought to divorce her. the person referred to as back per week later and told Huff that he had filed divorce papers. “I said, ‘You’ve ought to be excreting ME,’” Huff says.

PHOTO: MATTHEW HRANEK

A snook.

As with all intense relationships, complications will arise. Huff not fishes with one among his longest-tenured shoppers. “One day I simply told him what he was: a selfish prick,” Huff says. The guy asked Huff why it took him ciao to work that out. to the current day, the 2 still speak on the phone many times a year, unable to fully disconnect. one among the saddest endings came with Del Brown, United Nations agency posthumously still holds twelve world records. Huff and Brown had fished along since 1980. They were an ideal combine on the water, with matching intensity and drive. however one late afternoon in 2001, once Brown was lxxxiii, Huff poled for AN hour into the wind to urge Brown in position to fish. Huff waited for Brown to carry up his finish of the discount and solid for a fish. however, Brown place his rod down and told Huff he needed to travel in. Huff was wracked with heaving sobs as he ran the boat in. At the dock, he told Brown through tears that he couldn't fish with him any longer. “It was very my downside,” Huff says. “Del was obtaining older and that i simply didn’t need to admit it. It busts my heart.” Brown died 2 years later.

Huff has witnessed several strange moments throughout his cardinal years on the water. AN unhooked 100-pound malacopterygian once leaped into his boat and hit a feminine shopper squarely within the chest. (On his boat future year, she wore a flak jacket as a gag.) One year he was fishing with Tom Evans once Evans suddenly had to use the lavatory. As Evans adorned off the rear of the boat, he asked Huff to solid for a rolling malacopterygian. Huff did, and he hooked and landed a 186-pound malacopterygian, which might are the globe record. however, Huff ne'er submitted it to the IGFA. “Tom needed that record thus badly,” he says. per week later, Huff junction rectifier Evans into a 177-pounder, that so did become the globe record.

But maybe the strangest factor happened with a person named Everett Watkins, United Nations agency flew from CA to fish with a disciple United Nations agency had started a visit with Huff. Watkins, AN weighty man, hooked a 125-pound malacopterygian on one among his initial casts. however, he vies the fish terribly slowly as if he were during a trance. “I told him he required in grips down on the fish as a result of there area unit solely 2 things that might happen: He would land the fish or he would break down,” says Huff. “Little didi do know there was truly a 3rd situation.”

With the fish still on his line, Watkins suddenly folded face-first onto the bow. Huff bust off the fish and ran back to the dock at full speed. “He was blue after they loaded him onto the car,” Huff says. It clothed that Watkins had AN aneurysm and was dead before he hit the deck. “I felt very unhealthy and that i asked his crony what we must always do,” Huff says. “He told ME Everett would have needed USA to travel back and fish. So we did. and that we caught 2 nice malacopterygians.” The incident spawned over many unhealthy jokes. “People aforesaid, ‘Damn, Steve, people very area unit dying to fish with you,’ and ‘Why did you break the fish off?’” Huff says. He currently takes AN angler back to the dock at the primary sign of physical distress.

Huff along with his fly-caught 186-pound malacopterygian in 1977. PHOTO: COURTESY OF Florida keys OUTFITTERS ARCHIVES

Huff along with his fly-caught 186-pound malacopterygian in 1977.

Luckily, I feel pretty smart on this overcast and funky morning as Huff and that i build a thirty-minute run into the center of what Peter Matthiessen referred to as “shadow country”—the large sky, knotty mangroves, and moving water that area unit the swamp. Huff cuts the engine and hops au fait his poling platform. He’s sporting a khaki-colored shirt and pants and a combine of closed-toed Crocs. He propels the boat forward with apparently very little effort along with his twenty-one-foot pole. We’re when robolo, the fish that has remained Huff’s favorite since his childhood days in Miami.

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I fill in the bow and solid a yellow streamer that Huff devised. (“It doesn’t have a reputation. It’s simply ruminant hair and chicken feathers,” he says.) The wind from AN incoming storm is brisk however not intolerable. I’m not specifically throwing strikes with each solid. I begin to press a touch, and also the casts get even worse. Huff provides ME an important pointer: “Just hold your back solid a touch longer,” he says. I quickly see positive results. Huff poles the USA on, fifty feet some from the bank. rapidly, I begin obtaining solid takes, ANd at intervals an hour, I’ve landed 5 small (two- to four-pound) Robalo.

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thank-god-and-you · 6 years ago

Text

A/N: This is a very, very belated birthday present for the lovely Amy. I am so, so sorry it’s taken me so long to finish this for you. I hate myself. But I hope it was worth the wait and you can still enjoy it even though your birthday is long gone.

-- --

Broken Eggs, Mending Hearts

“Well, look at you,” said Robert. “All set up in a home of your own. I’m proud of you.”

John snorted, a touch bitterly. “You have low standards, then.”

They stood together in the pokey front room, squashed tightly together. Neither of them were small men and the living space, advertised as comforting, was most definitely uncomfortable.

“At least you’ve got a place of your own now,” said Robert bracingly. “It’s better than still being stuck in that house with Vera, you have to admit.”

Yes, he could concede to that. The house had been a point of contention with them over the last year, with Vera demanding that he give it up to her, and him refusing in turn. But he was so tired of the way that it was stalling the divorce, so tired of being tied to her, and in the end he had decided that no property was worth this level of unhappiness. So he had conceded to signing the house over to her if she was willing to put her signature to the divorce papers. So far she had remained silent on that matter, but he hoped that the promise of winning that particular battle would make her more amenable to compromising. This flat was far from the thing that he’d wanted, but it got him out of the house and on the way to being an independent bachelor once more, so at least that was something.

He just wished that he’d been able to afford something a little better than this. Vera was trying to bleed him dry in the divorce, and until all that was settled, he couldn’t begin to build up his savings. For the time being he was stuck here.

“You’re right,” he said. “The only good thing about this whole shitty situation.”

“Don’t be like that. There’s always a silver lining, no matter how small. Sometimes we have to take small steps to achieve big things.”

“Are you just going to stand there and spout nonsense from self-help books at me?” said John, reluctantly amused.

Robert put his hand over his heart, pretending to be mortally wounded. “I’m just trying to help you, Bates. But if you don’t want that, then fine. I’ll go.”

John checked his watch. “That might not be a bad idea. I’ve still got to get these things sorted out, and I’m going to have to nip to the corner shop to get some things in for tonight.”

“I can do that for you. Or you can come over to ours for tea. Cora would be happy to have you.”

John wasn’t sure how true that was; he and Cora were polite and civil to one another, but he had the feeling that she wasn’t overly keen on him. She’d told him that she was very, very grateful that he had saved her husband’s life but he thought that she was a little jealous, too, of the tight bond they had shared for so many years. After all, there were things that John knew about Robert that he doubted his friend would ever breathe to Cora, no matter how strong their marriage was.

“No, it’s okay,” he said. “I ought to go out and get a feel for the surroundings. But thank you. I do appreciate it.”

“No problem. You know where I am if you need me. And I insist that you come over at the weekend for Sunday dinner. I don’t trust you to look after yourself. You’ll need a good feeding, and I won’t see you going down the nick.”

“You’re worse than my mother.”

“I know what you were like during our time in the army, that’s all. And you couldn’t cook for toffee.”

“Neither could you. In fact, you were a lot worse than I was. Who was the one who almost set fire to the whole camp?”

Robert waved his hand dismissively. “Details, details. Besides, I lucked out with Cora. She’s clever, gorgeous, and can cook a decent meal. I’m forever in her debt.”

“And never forget that again,” said John mildly. “If you really don’t mind having me, I suppose I’ll come over.”

“Excellent. See you soon, then, Bates. Good luck with the unpacking.”

John glanced around dismally at all of the cardboard boxes, the categories that his entire life had been packed into. It was rather depressing, really, that his life had become this. All of his achievements, all of his milestones, everything had been condensed down into a few paltry boxes. “Thanks, mate. See you soon.”

Robert waved, and was gone. Resigned, John set about emptying the boxes, decorating his sparse new space with a few more homey touches. It would probably take quite a while before it began to feel like a true home.

After a while, however, his stomach began to growl insistently. It had been a long time since the soggy sandwich he’d scarfed down at dinner. He wouldn’t be able to carry on without some sustenance. The supermarket was a drive across town, so the corner shop would indeed have to be sufficient for tonight. He grabbed his wallet and keys from the side, locked the door behind him, and set off.

He enjoyed the walk to the shop, glad to be away from the chaos of his flat for the time being. He certainly wouldn’t be able to avoid the mess when he returned, and his knee was beginning to ache with the repetitive motion of lifting the boxes onto the sides for unpacking, but it was nice to be carefree for the moment. He picked up a basket when he arrived and strolled around the tiny aisles scrutinising the goods. Figuring that he’d do a good shop at the supermarket tomorrow, he settled on the essentials: bread, milk, butter, cheese, ham, eggs. If nothing else, he could make himself an omelette. One step at a time; he didn’t have to channel Jamie Oliver on his first night. He paid for his goods and stepped back outside into the cool evening air.

Transporting the goods home, however, proved to be a trickier feat. Saddled as he was with the cane, it meant that he had to gather all of the carrier bags in his left hand. They were not heavy, but they still left him feeling decidedly lopsided, and he knew that he must look a right sight to anyone peering through their curtains. Poor cripple, they would probably be thinking. Or lazy lout. It was usually fifty-fifty these days.

As much as he hated to admit it, by the time he reached the building’s doors, he was a little breathless. The brisk walk, coupled with the strains of the day, had left him feeling sore, and he paused to gather himself before he pushed on to the final leg of his journey. The lift wasn’t an option; there was a limp ‘Do Not Use’ sign taped to it. He would have to struggle up all the flights of stairs.

He was just worrying whether his knee would let him face it when he heard a voice behind him say, “Need a hand with any of that?”

He turned at once to find a petite young woman walking towards him, tucking a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. His first instinct was to stiffen in self-defence, ready to fight yet another battle against someone who wished to pity him, but the sunny smile she sent his way disarmed him. She had a kind, open face, and as ridiculous as it sounded, he had no wish to offend her; he had the distinct impression that showing kindness to strangers was a regular weapon in her arsenal.

And, though he hated himself for even thinking it, he could not help but notice how beautiful she was. Her features were pale and delicate, with light blue eyes which sparkled like the cerulean sky above. Her blonde hair looked so silky, the sort of hair that he’d be able to run his fingers through for hours without ever getting bored. She was small in stature, but slim, the kind of enviable physique that seemed to come naturally to some women.

With the way that the sun was shining behind her, making her almost glow, she looked like an angel sent from God, the answer to all of his prayers. All she was missing was the damned halo.

“I’m fine, thank you,” he said instead, as politely as possible, hoping to dispel the disconcerting thought. He’d been raised a Catholic by his fierce Irish mother, but it had been a long time since he’d given any kind of thought to religion, disillusioned as he’d become by death and destruction. There were no such things as angels, even if this gorgeous stranger almost fit the bill to a tee.

“Sure,” said the woman. “I’m glad. Don’t mind me. I just know what a pain this place can be.”

“You live here?” said John, surprised.

She laughed. “Of course I do. Though I don’t think I’ve seen you around before.”

“I’m new to the area, moved in today,” he supplied. “John Bates.”

“Anna Smith,” she returned. “Nice to meet you.”

“You too.”

She held out her hand to him to shake. He scrabbled to shove his cane in his left hand so he could return the gesture, but he must have caught it in the plastic carrier bag, because the next thing he knew there was an ominous ripping sound. Time seemed to slow as he lurched to stop the contents of his shopping from falling out the ruined sides.

No such luck.

Anna squealed as the bread bounced and rolled, the cheese hit the ground with a flump, and the milk burst and pulsed in the street like the blood of a dying animal.

And the eggs made a horrible, dull thunking sound, like a head being cracked open.

“Shit!” John yelped, stumbling backwards away from the wreckage. “Shit. There goes my tea.”

“Bugger,” said Anna. “I didn’t intend for that to happen.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“I offered you my hand.”

“Because you were being kind. Here.” Now hands free, John thrust his hand towards her again. “You might as well finish the deal.”

Tentatively, she did so. She had a nice grip, confident but not too firm. If John allowed it to, the frustrations of the last few months could come bubbling over, culminating in his irritation that his meagre tea plans had ended up all over the floor. It meant that another trip to the shops was on the cards. But none of this was Anna’s fault, and he was trying his hardest to be a better man. He would not take that out on her, especially when she had been nothing other than friendly.

“I’m so sorry,” she said when she dropped his hand. Her accent was soothing. He liked the way that she elongated her vowels. He had a good ear for accents, having spent a lot of his time travelling with the army, and he knew a native Yorkshire tongue when he heard one. There was something very attractive about it. “What were you planning on making?”

“Please don’t apologise,” he told her, rapidly shaking away that treacherous last thought and bending with a huff to pick up the bread, cheese, and ham to give himself something else to focus on. Those, at least, appeared okay. The ham was the only thing that had escaped unscathed; the bread was a bit squashed and the block of cheese had lost its shape a little, but otherwise they were edible. “It was an accident. I wasn’t planning anything spectacular, just an omelette. I can hardly manage anything else. All the same, I’d better get this bread upstairs before I head back down to the shops.”

“You’ll do no such thing.”

“Excuse me?”

“Well, I bet you’ve got loads of things you need to be getting on with if you’ve just moved in today. Whatever you say, I do feel partially responsible for this, so the least I can do is the neighbourly thing and offer you some eggs. That way you can at least still make your omelette.”

“It’s fine,” he said quickly. The last thing he wanted to do was start accepting charity.

Anna, however, seemed determined to ignore him. “No, really, I insist. Which flat is yours? I’ll hurry inside really quickly and bring them up to you.”

She jutted her chin defiantly and, as much as he hated it, he knew there was no arguing with her. He knew nothing of her, this stranger, but he could tell that she was a little spitfire. It was a refreshing change to see that fire used for good and not ill, as had always been the case with Vera. It was the thought of his wife that made him nod now.

“Okay,” he said. “Thank you. I’m flat 4D.”

Anna brightened. “You’re right above me! I’m 3D.”

She was almost a neighbour. He wasn’t quite sure how he felt about that. Clearing his throat, he gathered his things together and said, “Well, I’d better be heading up.”

“Sure,” she said. “I’ll see you in a minute.”

She was quicker than he was, and bounded off in front of him like a little fawn. He watched her go for a moment then set off at a much more sedate pace, gritting his teeth against the wrench in his knee—he must have injured himself when he tried to catch his wayward things. By the time he’d got back to his flat and laid his things out on the worktop, Anna was only a few minutes behind, offering him a sheepish smile and half a dozen eggs in a neat little carton, along with some mushrooms and tomatoes.

“I thought you could spruce your omelette up even more,” she explained. “I know it’s not a lot…”

“It’s lovely,” he interrupted her, touched by the gesture. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” she said. “Welcome to Downton, Mr. Bates.”

She walked away then, and he closed the door behind her, unable to keep the smile from his face.

Perhaps there really were some angels in disguise after all.

-- --

Wilting Flowers, Blooming Hope

Life in Downton was certainly not perfect, but it was a damned sight better than what he’d been used to in the past five years. There were no screaming matches, no drinking until he passed out, no rutting that bordered on the painful. He was free in a way that he had not been for years, and bit by bit he was finding his feet and beginning to enjoy his life again. Most people would not find it the least bit fulfilling, but after being trapped for so long in such a stranglehold, it suited him down to the ground.

All of it was significantly improved by the presence of Anna, who had become a firm and steady friend, almost to the point where she overtook Robert, though if the latter ever found that out then he’d probably throw the biggest most moping fit of all.

At first, they had simply exchanged pleasantries when they saw each other, asking after each other’s welfare, with John never leaving without a smile. But, when they had bumped into each other at one of the Crawley gatherings and realised that their ties ran deeper than they’d initially thought, they’d grown even closer. Mobile numbers exchanged, trips to the cinema taken, days out to the nearby beaches organised, meals cooked in or eaten out, TV shows binged. It was amazing just how quickly he’d felt comfortable with her, when usually it took him a long time to see anyone as more than a passing acquaintance, but there was something almost fey-like about Anna’s abilities to get him to open up to her. He’d told her things that he’d never thought he’d share with anyone else again, and she in turned seemed to trust him with some of the more intimate details in her life. And he had to admit: it was nice to have a friend so close to hand, and a friend who never judged or pushed him to be anything other than he was. Robert was a wonderful man, but he did not have the listening skills that Anna possessed. With every day that passed, it became more and more apparent that he needed her in his life.

Which terrified him. Because the longer he spent with her, the more he began to realise that she was the kind of woman men dreamed about. She was funny, she was kind, she took no shit, and she was gorgeous to boot. His early thought that she’d looked like an angel had only been cemented further with her every action, and with someone like that, it seemed almost inevitable that the soft feelings he had for her would melt into something more.

He’d told himself that he would keep all women at arm’s length, and he’d failed miserably. She made him feel things that he had never, ever felt before.

It was all futile, of course. Anna would never look at him the same way he looked at her, and that was the best thing all round. What could he possibly have to offer her? In the last stages of his divorce he was poorer and more bitter than he had ever been, and well aware of the mistakes he had made which would prevent him from loading his baggage onto someone else’s back. Anna did not deserve that. She deserved someone young, vibrant, free.

Which no doubt she was getting now.

John pushed his food around his plate moodily, trying very hard not to imagine what might be going on at this very moment. When Anna had come to him asking if he would check in on her flat during the weekend because she was going away, he had agreed readily. She was a trainee nurse and worked hard every single day caring for those around her, and it was about time that she got some time away from work to relax and do something for herself.

But that was before he’d realised that she was going on a mad weekend with Mary and Sybil to Magaluf on a hen party. Magaluf, of all places. Or Shagaluf as Mary had candidly told him on the day the minibus had arrived to whisk them all away. The place of drinking until dawn, of no inhibitions, of hooking up with someone new every night.

The thought of it made John’s skin crawl. Anna was, of course, entitled to go out there and do whatever she pleased. She was a young woman in the prime of her life and deserved to have fun. It was on him that he’d started to develop feelings for her and did not want to think about her in bed with some young Spaniard with rippling abs and irresistible brown eyes.

Even though he knew it shouldn’t, it had put him in a bad mood for the rest of the weekend. He had shut himself in his flat and tried to concentrate on the book that he’d been neglecting for the past few weeks, but his mind wandered constantly, wondering who Anna was with now. He would not ask her—it was none of her business—but his heart ached with the thought that right at this very minute some gym buff was running his hands all over her body.

If only drowning his sorrows in the local pub was an option.

In the end, he’d decided to buy a last-minute ticket at nearby Elland Road. At least being in the zone of a football match would work for a little while.

It certainly did help for a short while, but the brooding thoughts returned when it was all over, and there was nothing else to distract him. Sunday passed slowly and Monday even more so, his eyes straying to the clock to count down the hours to her return. She was due back at some point later that evening.

On the way home, he was struck by a stupid, rash urge. He should do something nice for her, something that would hopefully brighten her mood after a long, tiring few days.

He should be careful. It was a reckless move, would likely imply more than he should say. But he could not stop himself.

He stopped off at the supermarket and dithered in front of the flowers. He was disappointed with the range. Where were all the pretty, vibrant bouquets? These ones were on their last legs, heads drooping, leaves on the turn. He stopped one of the workers, a bored looking young man.

“Is this all there is?” he asked desperately. “I was hoping for something…else.”

“Sorry, mate,” the lad replied, not sounding the least bit remorseful. “We’ve had a bit of a problem with the flowers over the last few days. Someone hasn’t been watering them properly. These are the best of a bad bunch. We’re not due another flower order until mid-week.”

“Shouldn’t be selling them, then, if they’re all so bad,” John said grumpily, but in the end he chose the least battered bunch he could find. They were not worth the five pounds that the sticker demanded, but he paid it anyway. He just hoped that Anna wouldn’t be too disappointed with them. He’d have to explain himself to her.

He made his way back across town to the block of flats and dithered for a moment. When he stopped to think about what he was doing, it was ridiculous. What man went out and bought flowers to freshen up a friend’s flat? He could not imagine any of the men he knew doing something like that. What if it aroused Anna’s suspicions? What if it made her uncomfortable? That was the last thing he wanted to do. And yet he could not back out now. It was too late. He had to go through with it, for better or worse.

Taking a deep breath, he fished her key out and let himself into her flat. It was pristinely clean and sunny. He liked coming here; its warmth and brightness felt very much like coming home.

Much like being with Anna always did.

He shook that thought away because it was not constructive. He did not want to pry into her personal things too much when she wasn’t here to know about it, but he located a vase in one of her cupboards and set about arranging the flowers. They looked feeble when he’d done, made even worse by his poor handiwork, but there was nothing he could do to change that now.

He was just debating where he should put them to give them maximum effect—Christ, he needed something to make them look better—when he heard a scuffling out in the corridor. It was probably the young couple that lived across from her. They were always having some kind of argument. How Anna put up with them was a mystery to him. They’d drive him mad. Shaking his head, he turned his attention back to the flowers. Would putting them on the coffee table be his best bet?

The door behind him creaked open. He whirled around at once, his heart pounding, clutching the vase of flowers as if it was going to ward off whatever was coming…

…And he came face to face with Anna.

She blinked, as if surprised to see him there, but a broad grin soon overtook her features. “John! It’s so good to see you!”

“You too,” he managed, feeling the heat of embarrassment creeping up his neck. He wished that he could put the flower down. What a prat he must look, standing here with them like this…

True to form, Anna’s eyes honed in on them at once. “Oh! What’s that you’ve got there?”

“Flowers,” he muttered, wishing the floor would open up and swallow him whole. “I just…I thought they might cheer your flat up for your homecoming. I wasn’t expecting you back until later tonight. I wouldn’t have been here otherwise.”

Anna dismissed this with a wave of her hand. “Oh, don’t worry about that! I’m glad you’re here! I’ve missed you.”

Those words were hard to process. To think that someone like Anna, someone beautiful and kind and funny might miss him when she’d probably had men falling over themselves to keep her company this weekend, was mind-boggling.

But he didn’t have time to even reiterate her sentiment before she had moved on, as if her words had been nothing more than a casual observance. “And you’re right, we were supposed to get home later, but our flight was changed last-minute. The one we were supposed to catch has been cancelled because of air miles or something, and so the airline managed to squeeze us on to the one before. Not everyone has been as lucky as that. Some have had to stay an extra day. I think Mary was gunning for that, to be honest. She met a bloke whilst she was over there and I don’t think she would have minded seeing him again.”

That did not surprise John in the least; Mary was as fickle with her men as she was with her clothes. “I see. Spare me the details.”

Anna shuddered. “Don’t worry, I will. It’s enough that I’ve had to know about it. I don’t fancy bringing the memories up again. I think I’ve seen more of her this week than I ever wanted to. I will admit, he was nice-looking though. A Turk.”

John’s mood soured further at that. “I see.”

Seemingly oblivious, Anna smirked. “You know what Mary’s like. Nothing but the most gorgeous things for her.”

“As long as she had fun,” he managed.

“Oh, she definitely had that,” said Anna, pulling a face.

“And what about you?”

The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them; they seemed to hang for an eternity between them before Anna shot him that smile, the one that was slightly crooked and altogether too beautiful. “Well, I enjoyed the relaxing in the day, but the rest of it wasn’t much fun.”

“It wasn’t?” John did not dare get his hopes up. He would not be able to take it if she admitted that she had met someone out there. But nor could he stop himself from wanting to know, from needing to know, like the witness unable to look away from the most gruesome of sights. “I would have thought you’d have enjoyed yourself.”

“I did, mostly,” she clarified. “But I must admit that I started to feel my age. The others are so much younger than I am. They spent all of their days sleeping away their hangovers and all of their nights drinking until seven in the morning. I couldn’t keep up with that. I’d had enough after the first day. I don’t think I’ve ever been as sick as I was then. I made sure I took it steady after that.”

John had to smile at that. He could well imagine Anna lying there, groaning, swearing that she was never going to drink ever again. He knew that the Crawley girls could be bad influences, especially carefree Sybil and reckless Mary. It would not be difficult to be led astray by the two of them. And that wasn’t even taking Ethel into consideration, and she could be worse than anyone.

“Well, I can empathise with the raging hangovers,” he offered. “I’ve had more than enough of those in my time, much to my regret.”

“I definitely regretted that one,” she agreed. “And I’ll be honest, I rather turned into the mother of the group after that. It made me feel ancient.”

“You’re twenty-six,” he scoffed. “Hardly ancient.”

“Compared with Mary and Sybil I am. Sybil’s only eighteen, for goodness sake. I felt like I had a duty to keep my eye on her. I think Robert and Cora would have killed me if anything bad had happened to her. Though I must confess that I didn’t do my job all that well…”

“What does that mean?” said John. “Did she do something outrageous? Get a tattoo while drunk or something?”

“Worse,” Anna shuddered. “She met someone.”

“Ah,” said John. It was coming back to sex again, and thinking about his goddaughter in that position was even less appealing than thinking of Mary. Sybil was still a baby, to be kept wrapped in cotton wool and protected from the world.

“Yes,” said Anna miserably. “Though he wasn’t too bad, I suppose. He spent the whole weekend following her around like a little puppy. He did seem to really like her, and he took her phone number with him. I’m not sure it’ll last, though. He’s from Ireland.”

“Oh, that’ll really please Robert if he ever finds out,” snickered John. “You know his feelings towards the Irish. He’s a prejudiced patriot at heart.”

“Tell me about it,” said Anna. “But I’m going to deny all knowledge of it. I’ll say it happened out of my eye line.”

“And what could you have possibly have been doing to keep you so distracted?” said John, then immediately wished he hadn’t; although it had been meant as a joke, it brought the image of Anna wrapped around some tanned athlete to his mind.

Anna rolled her eyes at him. “Fishing for details doesn’t suit you, you know.”

“I wasn’t—” he began, blushing like a damned schoolboy all over again.

Anna’s mouth curled upwards in a teasing smile. “If you say so, Mr. Bates. Now, give me those flowers. I think I ought to put them pride of place.”

“They’re not very nice,” he said tentatively as he handed them over dutifully. “I’m sorry. I wanted to give you nicer ones than that.”

“Don’t apologise,” she said. “They’re lovely. It’s the nicest thing that anyone has ever done for me, buying me flowers just to cheer the place up.”

“I doubt that very much,” he said. She was the kind of woman who would inspire anyone to make grand gestures. Surely she was teasing him about his weak, wilting flowers, so very pathetic in the light of all she really deserved.

A reflection on him, perhaps.

But Anna shook her head. “No, I mean it.” She brought them to her nose and inhaled deeply. “See? They still smell heavenly. I’ll give them some water and I’m sure they’ll bloom beautifully. Some things just need some time and attention, Mr. Bates. You shouldn’t give up on something just because it looks a bit battered on the outside.”

John cleared his throat, uncomfortable. “Yes, well. I’m glad you got home safely. But I ought to get going. I’ve still got some things to sort out of myself.”

“Of course,” said Anna, stepping aside. “We’ll catch up soon?”

“Yes,” said John. He debated bending in to kiss her cheek—Christ, he’d not seen her in a few days and he’d missed her so much—but he resisted the urge. Limping past her, he made it to the door and wrenched it open a little more roughly than intended.

“John.”

He’d already stepped over the threshold; her voice made him turn.

“Yes?” he said, frowning. “What is it, Anna?”

She stared him down for a moment, before tilting her head to the side. “I didn’t meet anyone out there, you know. I’m very, very happy with the way things are at the moment.”

He did not know what to say in answer to that, but it sent him back up to his flat with an extra spring in his step.

Perhaps…perhaps, as insane as it sounded, something could bloom after all.

-- --

Burned Toast, Raw Emotion

John woke early on Saturday, to the low morning light and the chirping of the birds. For a moment he simply lay there, exulting in the nothingness, before pushing the sheets away. It was time he got up and did something. What, he wasn’t quite sure. But he was meeting Anna later for a coffee, and as much as he was looking forward to seeing her, he had to take some time out to reconcile the war in his heart with the future that was now sure to be in front of him.

Anna had been on a date last night.

No doubt she would fill him in on the details today, and he had to practice looking pleased for her when inside his heart was breaking. He’d had opportunities to do something about the vortex of feelings that swirled around inside him, but he’d been too cowardly to face his fears, and now all opportunity had passed him by. This was different to the holiday in Magaluf; he’d spotted them leaving through the window, and the man that Anna had been with was nothing like those immature prats who had swarmed her abroad. Whoever this guy was, he was clearly well-groomed, in a sharp suit and a crisp white shirt. He obviously knew what money was, and would be able to treat her like a princess. They hadn’t been holding hands when they’d gone out but they might have been when they came back; he hadn’t gone to look, but he’d heard their voices through the wide-open window after midnight, and it had sounded as if they’d had a good time.

He swore to himself and scrubbed a hand down his face. It was time to accept the facts of life, no matter how much he didn’t want to.

He shaved off his overnight shadow and showered, then headed to the bedroom to pull on his customary jeans and shirt. It promised to be another scorching day outside—Britain was in the throes of its first heatwave in years, and it was horrible—then decided that the best way of getting rid of some of this pent-up frustration would be to go for a morning walk. The experts always said that exercise was good for that kind of thing, didn’t they? Well, there was no better time to try it.

As he was swiping his keys up from the coffee table, however, he heard it below his feet. A bang and a shriek. Christ, that hadn’t sounded good. Had Anna hurt herself? Heart hammering, he snatched the keys up, locked the door quickly behind him—it took him three attempts to get the key into the lock—and hurried for the stairs as quickly as his knee would allow. He’d take a detour on the way down, just to make sure that she was okay. He’d never be able to go out now without checking that she was fine, and he’d never forgive himself if she’d hurt herself and he’d not gone to see if she was all right.

And what if her bloke is there? a sly voice in the back of his head said. What if she asked him to stay for the night?

He shook the thought away, taking a shuddering breath even as the thought made him feel sick to the stomach. If that was indeed the case, well, he’d have to face it like an adult and get on with it. There was nothing he could do to prevent the tide, and he could not take out his bitterness on Anna, not when she was the person who meant most to him in the whole world. He would simply have to deal with it. She’d never been meant for him, anyway.

He drew up short when he reached her door, taking a second to compose himself before raising his fist and rapping his knuckles against the wood.

“Anna?” he called. “Anna, are you all right?”

He could hear shuffling behind the barrier. “I’m fine.”

“Can you open up? I’d like to see for myself. I won’t keep you long. I’m just heading out.”

There was more rustling, then the door creaked open.

His breath caught in his throat.

He’d never seen her like this before, and the sight of her in her natural environment simply took his breath away. This was not the carefully composed, sunny Anna he was used to seeing. The Anna before him was a little puffy-eyed from not having enough sleep, her hair was a tangled mess, there was no makeup in sight, and she was wearing a baggy t-shirt and oversized shorts that had slipped over her hips.

She was gorgeous.

“’M all right,” she mumbled, not quite meeting his eye. “I dropped something on my foot.”

With a lurch, he realised that her feet were bare. As petite as the rest of her, the intimacy of the sight made him flush all over. What a stupid thing to touch his heart. And yet he couldn’t stop it. There was indeed a darkening patch there, which suggested that it would bruise.

“What did you drop?” he asked.

“That bloody paperweight Mary bought me. I was trying to get my papers out from under it and it slipped off and hit me. Came bloody keen as well.”

“Ice it or something,” he advised.

“Don’t have any in, do I? Stupid really, given what this weather’s like.”

“I could pick some up for you on my way back round,” he offered. “I can detour to the corner shop.”

For the first time all morning, her eyes met his, peeking up at him shyly. “You wouldn’t mind?”

“Of course I wouldn’t. I’d do anything for you, you know.”

The words lingered between them, and he cursed at their implication. He cleared his throat, shuffling his feet.

“Well, thank you,” Anna said softly. “That would be most kind. Do you want to come in a moment?”

“I’d better not,” he said, checking his watch. “I don’t want to intrude.”

Anna furrowed her brows. “Since when have I ever said that you’re intruding?”

He shrugged, careful to keep his gaze well away from her. “You might have company for all I know.”

From the look on Anna’s face, he knew that she’d cottoned on to what he was inferring. She coloured delicately, but shook her head. “There’s no one else here, John. Just me.”

The admission lightened some of the load on his shoulders,, but he did not change his stance. “Still, the longer we put off icing that, the worse it’ll be.”

“Well, perhaps you can stay for a cup of tea afterwards?”

“I’d like that,” John admitted; he could not lie. “I won’t be too long, perhaps half an hour or so. In the meantime—” He broke off, sniffing the air. “Hang on, do you smell burning?”

“Burning?” said Anna, puzzled, taking a deep drag of air herself. Her eyes widened. “Shit! The toast!”

With that, she scarpered back into the room, leaving John blinking after her. Deciding that he’d rather not be lingering on her doorstep like an uncertain teenager, he followed her inside. He could hear her banging about in the kitchen, and he followed the sounds there. The toast under the grill was almost on fire, smoke coming off it in an alarming manner, and Anna was frantically searching through her draws for something to get it out with. If they left it much longer they might have a fire on their hands, so John gritted his teeth, grabbed hold of the nearby tea towel, and wrapped it as best he could around the grill pan. He managed to hook it out and Anna dodged out of the way so he could fling it in the sink. It sat there smouldering dangerously, the acrid smell almost making him gag. Anna ducked under him and scrabbled to get the window open, flinging it as wide as she could.

“I had you down as a better cook than that,” he managed, hoping to lighten the mood.

Anna glared at him, but it was playful. “I’ll have you know that I am. I blame you for this.”

“Me? What have I done?”

“Distracting me with your gallant behaviour. I would have had perfectly nice toast if you hadn’t come sweeping in like a knight in shining armour.”

“Well, excuse me for caring about you.”

These slips of the tongue, weighted with so much, would be the death of him, he knew. Anna looked at him steadily and he turned away on the pretence of checking on the charred thing in the sink.

“How about I bring some kind of pastry from the coffee shop on the way back?” he said. “Would that make it up to you?”

“It might,” she said. “You’ll have to wait and see.”

“Go and sit down,” he said. “I’ll make you a cup of tea to drink while I’m gone, and I’ll just pop out for you.”

“What would I do without you?” she murmured, hobbling towards the tiny sitting room. John waited until she was gone, taking the time to gather himself, before switching on the kettle to boil. He listened to the sounds of Anna getting comfortable on her couch, and banged about making her the perfect cup of tea. That, at least, was one thing he was guaranteed to get right. He could make a mean cup of tea.

Once it was done, coupled with a few biscuits to satiate Anna’s sweet tooth, he limped back into the room. Anna had her foot elevated on the coffee table, and he kept his eyes on her face as he handed her the cup. “Here you are, milady. Now sit tight.”

He’d half-turned away when her soft voice stopped him. “John.”

“Yes?” he said.

“Wait a minute. Lean down a little.”

Confused, John watched as Anna placed the mug on the coffee table. “What?”

She huffed. “I’m not in the best of states to come to you right now, so I want you to come to me.”

“Why?”

She huffed, a definite edge to her voice now. “If you keep questioning me, I’ll lose my nerve.”

“Lose your nerve to do what?”

She huffed again, almost grinding her teeth in frustration now, and grabbed a fistful of his shirt. John barely had time to register alarm that she would probably be able to see his hairy belly underneath before she tugged him towards her with surprising strength. He flailed about, narrowly missing hitting Anna with his cane as he dropped it so he could put a steadying hand against the back of the sofa just above Anna’s head.

“What the hell—” he yelped, heart beating far too fast in his chest, but Anna’s spare hand snaked between them, yanked the collar of his shit still further down towards her, and angled her head up to his.

Time stopped.

Anna was kissing him.

His brain was frozen, as if he’d plummeted into icy depths and could not make himself function again. It was the one overwhelming thought in his mind as Anna’s mouth moved softly over his, that Anna, his best friend, the woman he had been longing to kiss for so goddamned long, was actually doing this.

Before he could even stop to enjoy it, however, she pulled away from him. With a jolt, he realised that she was scowling. Christ, that was all he needed, for her to regret it as soon as it had happened. He had not been the instigator, thank God, but how could he laugh it off when inside his heart was already beginning to crack…?

“Bleedn’ hell, John,” she said.

“What?” he said, his mouth feeling thick. He could still feel the weight of her mouth on his, like a phantom.

“I’m putting myself out here! The very least you could do is give me a sign!”

“What?” he repeated. Her eyes flashed, and he had a nasty feeling that he was sailing perilously close to the wind with his inability to form any other words.

But how could he? Words had fled the moment that Anna’s mouth had touched his, so soft and warm. He had dreamt about that moment over and over, had ached for it so desperately, and it had happened like that, completely out of the blue, robbing him of all intelligence. How was he supposed to articulate the things that were going around in his head, his question of what the hell was going on, of what this meant for them?

“Give me something!” Anna said, and there was a definite edge to her voice now. If he didn’t answer her, he had a feeling that he would be facing down her wrath. He had never seen Anna lose her temper—she was so sweet-tempered and measured at all times, a stark contrast to Mary’s wild changes in mood—but even the most placid person would reach breaking point at some time. Apparently this was Anna’s.

“I—just—what?” he managed, then, realising that he had said the dreaded ‘W’ word again, hastened to add on, “Did that just happen?”

“Yes,” she ground out. “Yes, John. That just happened. I just kissed you.”

“Wow,” he said. “Wow.”

“God, you’re terrible at this,” she snapped. “I still don’t have a clue whether I’ve just screwed everything up for us or not.”

John blinked at her, brain sluggishly beginning to work again. “Oh, no. No, you haven’t messed anything up.”

“But are you just saying that because you’re such a gentleman, or do you actually mean it?”

He thought back on all those days of longing, all those nights of aching for her and torturing himself on how much he wanted to confess how he felt. He thought on his determination to let her go and live the life she deserved with a man that he could never be.

The right thing to do for her would be to let her down gently, to tell her that he loved her as a friend but they could never be more than that. It would kill him inside, but it would be wrong to tie her down. If one of them had to sacrifice happiness it should be him, to atone for all of the sins in his past.

But the words got stuck in his throat, like cement, and he could not force them out. The plain truth of the matter was that he wanted this woman, and he didn’t think that he’d ever recover if he watched her get on with her life with someone else. Hadn’t the date yesterday proven that to him? This would be his last chance, of that he had no doubt. If he did not seize it now, he would never get another.

He bent his head down and caught her lips again.

Anna made a muffled sound of surprise against him, but her arms wound eagerly around his shoulders and she kissed him back in earnest, her mouth opening up beneath his with such enthusiasm that it made him shudder. She tasted of tea, and he pushed closer, desperate to have more of her. He was walking through an oasis after years of being denied; he couldn’t remember the last time he had kissed someone, and the simple pleasure of it was crashing over him now, making the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. The movement of her mouth was sending pleasure arrowing straight down to the pit of his stomach, and he cupped her cheek in the palm of his hand, angling her head just slightly so he could meet her tongue. Electricity exploded down his spine, and when Anna ran her hands down his body to pull him even closer, he broke the kiss, burying his head into her shoulder and taking deep breaths, trying to control himself. He resisted her attempts to bring him closer, hyper-aware that if his body touched hers he would embarrass himself by letting her know just how much he wanted her. She seemed to understand his desire to pull away this time; her hands smoothed down his back reassuringly, and she pressed a kiss to the side of his neck, nestling her nose there. For long moments, neither of them said a thing.

“I think that answers my question,” Anna said at last, then started to giggle. He couldn’t help himself, laughing too; it seemed the best way to release the disbelieving, relieved tension in his body. Christ, he was trembling. He’d never been like this in his whole life.

“So I take it you won’t be seeing your date again?” he asked.

She shook her head, wrinkling her nose. “No. He was nice enough, but…”

“But?”

“He wasn’t you,” she said simply. “Mary insisted that I go, but I wasn’t quite ready to give up on you.”

“Mary knows?” he said, not quite sure how he felt about that. He tried to remember if she had ever dropped any obvious hints that he hadn’t picked up on at the time, too busy wallowing in self-pity.

“No,” said Anna. “No, I didn’t tell her. I didn’t want her to make things uncomfortable for you if you didn’t feel the same way. I know how awkward she can be about those kinds of things sometimes. But I’ve been single for a long time now, and I suppose she decided that it was time I got back in the saddle. I didn’t really know how to tell her that I wasn’t interested without having to confess that I had my eye on someone, so I went along with it. He wasn’t a complete arsehole, which I ought to be grateful for. Mary does like to pick them.”

John knew that from experience; Mary had dated some frights in her time, including that awful Tony Foyle, who had stalked her for a few months after she had broken up with him.

He could well imagine that Anna’s type of bloke was a long way from Mary’s, and the idea of the younger woman match-making for her was laughable in its own way. Still, the knowledge that Anna hadn’t had the best time in the world simply because the bloke hadn’t been him cheered him no end.

“And you’re sure that you’re making the right choice?” he ventured.

“Yes,” was the instant response. “I want you, not him. I’m not going to pretend that he wasn’t nice. He was. But he didn’t get my heart racing, and he didn’t give me butterflies.”

“I give you butterflies?” he asked, nonplussed. It was a thought that he couldn’t get his head around; what on earth about him could make Anna feel that way? He had much more flab than muscle, and at fifteen years her senior he would hardly be the sort of person that most women in their mid-twenties found attractive.

“You always have,” she said vaguely. “I thought I’d been pretty obvious on that score, John.”

“I’ve never been much good at reading women,” he admitted. The only woman he’d read with ease had been Vera, but she’d been so obvious about everything that only an idiot would have missed the signs; she’d set out to snare him with her sexuality, ad young and stupid as he’d been, she’d succeeded. In the years that had followed, it had been impossible to miss her venom and indifference towards him. After the injury, that had only got worse, and there had been too much poison for their relationship to possibly survive.

“I’ll say,” said Anna, rolling her eyes. “Honestly, no wonder I’ve never been one for dating. It’s utterly exhausting.”

“But you’re willing to give it a go now?” he said hopefully. Perhaps foolishly. There was no such thing as plain sailing in his life, and he doubted he would be lucky with this.

She tilted her head just so. “Yes. Though I’m going to have to let Lee know, which I expect is going to be a horrendously uncomfortable conversation. I at least owe him that after everything.”

“‘After everything’?”

“Well, you know. He did take me out to dinner and walk me home like a true gentleman.”

“And kissed you on the doorstep?” said John. His heart lurched horribly in his chest at the thought of this bloke with his hands all over Anna’s body, perhaps holding her in the places he himself had been holding her only minutes before.

Anna smirked at him. “Jealous, are we?”

“No,” he lied, pulling away completely. “You have the right to kiss whoever you want to.”

“How kind of you to say.” She kept the tension going between them for a few more seconds before shaking her head. “Honestly, men are ridiculous, pouting over every tiny thing.”

“I’m not pouting.”

“Yes, you are.” She reached up and ran her index finger over his lips. He promptly relaxed his mouth, scowling at her. “Don’t look so worried, of course I didn’t kiss him. I think he wanted me to, but he was a perfect gentleman about it all. And I’ve already told you: it’s you I want. I’m not going to go around kissing anyone else when as far as I’m concerned you’re the only one I want to kiss.”

Her words placated him, and he ran his fingers through his hair. “I’m sorry if I was a bit of an arse. It’s just…I’m not used to the idea that you might have feelings for me. It feels too good to be true.”

“Well, believe,” she said softly. “I’d never lie to you, John. You’re my best friend, and I’d never want to hurt you.”

“I know,” he reassured her. “I feel the same way. It’s just…surreal.” He couldn’t stop his grin from spreading. “Christ, I can’t believe you kissed me.”

She ducked her head, suddenly shy. “Neither can I. It was…rather forward of me. I didn’t mean for it to happen like that.”

“I’m glad it did. I liked it. And if we’re being honest, I don’t think I would have had the courage to make the first move.”

“Then I’m glad I did. It felt right. You were being so caring, I couldn’t have stopped myself if I’d tried.”

“It did feel right,” he agreed softly. So right. More than he could ever put into words. As clichéd and pathetic as it sounded, it felt like coming home, as if he’d found the missing part of his soul after so many years of searching. He’d had feelings for people before, and he was sure that Anna had too, but there was something about the way he felt for Anna that transcended everything he’d ever felt. The idea of soulmates was corny…but on some level he truly believed that that was what Anna was to him. He could have this was someone else and no doubt be comfortable with it…but there would always be the sense that something was missing, just some tiny piece, like the final one in a jigsaw that prevented the full, glorious picture.

Anna shifted with a wince, and he suddenly remembered the purpose of this mission before he had been distracted by the delights of Anna’s mouth.

“Ice,” he said. “I was going to get you ice.”

“You needn’t bother,” she said. “I can manage. You can stay here and keep me company.”

A tempting as the prospect was, he was determined to do this properly. He would not jump into bed with her at the first invitation, no matter how agreeable that sounded to his body, which had been without the touch of a woman for so long. No, he did not want her to think that that was all he wanted her for when her mind, her cheerfulness, her wit, all was so much more appealing to him. “I’m a man of my word. When I say I’m going to get you ice and something for breakfast, that’s what I’m going to do. But then I’ll come back and perhaps we can sit and watch a movie?” A movie would be safe. It would give them the opportunity to cuddle up with each other, but he was determined that it would go no further than that. Escaping for a little while would give him time to regroup and strengthen his resolve. He’d had to have nerves of steel during the war, and he could rediscover them now.

Anna looked slightly disappointed, but she nodded her head. “Sounds good. See you soon.”

He bent his head one more time and kissed her, pulling away before she could deepen it too much. Taking a moment to breathe in the scent of her skin, he pecked at her forehead, gathered his cane from where it had fallen, and stumped towards the door. In the doorway he turned to look at her one more time, mussed and beautiful as she was, and felt a surge of deep, deep affection for her. It was too soon to tell her he loved her, but the feeling was growing nevertheless, sweeping him away on a riptide.

What a lucky, lucky man he was.

-- --

Sour Milk, Sweet Victory

The text came when he was halfway through the day. There was nothing to suggest that there was anything inherently wrong, but it gave John a reason to pause nevertheless.

If you can get away ASAP, I think you should. It’s important. x

It was precise and to the point, and very unlike Anna. Emojis were the bane of his life, but she loved them; she wrote him essays by text message, to let him know that she was thinking about him, that she couldn’t wait to see him. The kiss was reassuring, but there was something ominous about it, and it put him on edge. Had something happened? Was she ill?

Christ, had she fallen pregnant?

That would certainly be a speedbump in the road. It wasn’t as if he might not want children with Anna in the future—she would make a wonderful mother and he was certain that he didn’t want to spend the rest of his life without her—but these were still early days, and if he was truly honest with himself, he had not planned children into his relationship until further down the line. Realistically, there was no question about what they would do in his mind, but it was something that would need a great deal of consideration—after all, it was Anna’s body, not his.

He was probably getting ahead of himself. There was probably nothing to worry about. Still, he needed to put his mind at rest.

Thankfully, begging off work early was not difficult. Robert was quick to point out that he always worked more hours than he needed to, and he was happy to let him take the afternoon off. Grateful, John shot off a text. I’ll be there in ten minutes.

Anna did not respond on the way home, and he parked his car and practically ran inside, damn his leg. He hammered on Anna’s door for a full minute before realising that she might be up at his flat. They’d exchanged keys a mere two weeks ago for convenience, and he used his now to quickly check that she wasn’t anywhere in the flat before heading up towards his own. His key scraped in the lock as he pushed open his own door.

He stopped short, feeling as if the bottom had just dropped out of his world.

“Hello, Johnny,” said Vera. She was standing in the little kitchenette, leaning against the worktop. “You’re out of milk, I’m sorry to say. It’s gone off. Which is a shame, as I rather fancied a cup of tea. Of course, I wouldn’t say no to a nip of something stronger if you have it. I can usually rely on you to have that.”

The absurdity of the statement, of her standing right there in his flat when he had not seen her since she had signed her name on the dotted line in the solicitor’s office was simply overwhelming. Surreal. She was talking about sour milk as if he’d just gone back in time five years.

“What the hell are you doing here?” The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them, spat with more vehemence than he wanted to show her.

Vera folded her arms across her chest, her icy blue eyes flashing with gleeful malice. “That’s not a very nice way to greet your wife, Johnny.”

“Ex-wife,” he spat back at her.

“Ah, of course, you wouldn’t let that little detail slip me by, would you? It’s no surprise you’d want to remind me of that fact, not when your pretty little piece is here. Didn’t take you long to get your end away, did it? There’s no wonder the milk’s gone sour. I bet you’re never here to use it.”

It was then that John realised that Anna was indeed there too, standing quietly behind the sofa, analysing the scene in front of her. He hardly dared look at her, terrified that he would see regret and judgement in her gaze. He could only imagine how this scene must have played out. Vera had never been known for her grace, spouted vitriol on a regular basis. If Anna had already been here when she had arrived—and she must have been, given the text, given her presence here now—then he could only imagine the things that she might have said. It did not bear thinking about.

“What are you doing here?” he repeated, closing the door behind him.

“I came to see how you are.”

“Bullshit.”

“Don’t be like that, Johnny. I won’t stand to be talked to like that.” Vera turned towards Anna, a snake-like smile curling her mouth. “Do you know that he’s got a horrible temper, dearie? Snaps at the slightest thing and says the most awful things. I feared for my life sometimes.”

“Like hell you did.”

“See? I feel sorry for you, putting up with someone like him. You must be desperate.”

Anna rolled her shoulders back, jutting her chin defiantly. “On the contrary, I count myself fortunate.”

“And that’s the most unfortunate thing I’ve ever heard. Your standards must be exceedingly low if you consider yourself fortunate to be with a broken down old drunk. Has he told you about that, eh? That he gets so pissed that he shouts and breaks things and sometimes wants to fuck you even though he says that he hates you?”

John felt himself going cold all over, bile rising in his throat. He could not bring himself to look in Anna’s direction, terrified of what he might see in her face. Revulsion. Horror. Belief in Vera’s words.

“John doesn’t drink,” Anna said calmly.

Vera’s face twisted in an ugly sneer. “How naïve you are.”

“He hasn’t touched a drop in five years. Since splitting from you, in fact.”

“He told you this, did he? And you believed him. What a silly little girl you are.”

Anna shrugged. “I believe him because he’s telling the truth.”

“And has he told you about all of the other ugly skeletons in his closet? Has he told you about prison?” Vera’s eyes gleamed with triumph; clearly she believed that she was going to shake the very foundations of their fledgling relationship.

“Of course he has,” said Anna without missing a beat.

“Really?” said Vera scathingly.

John stepped forward. “Really. People have the right to know the worst of me.”

“It just helped me to see the best of him,” said Anna. “He’s made mistakes in his past, but he’s not the same man anymore.”

“Mistakes!” cackled Vera. “You call having a criminal record a mistake? Men like my husband never change.”

“Ex-husband,” said Anna, sounding bored. “Look, is this all you’ve come to do? Try to intimidate me out of being with John? Because it’s not going to work and I’ve got better things to be doing with my time than listening to a jealous ex.”

“Jealous? Don’t make me laugh.”

“I’m not. That’s what you sound like. A bitter old woman who can’t stand to see anyone else happy.”

“Batesy doesn’t know how to make anyone else happy.”

“He makes me happy,” said Anna defiantly. “He makes me very happy. So if you’ve come here hell-bent on revenge, I’m going to have to burst your bubble. I know that he struggled with alcoholism. I know that you were poorly matched. I know that he’s had a suspended prison sentence. Nothing you’ve come to say will shock me, so let me save us both some time.”

“You’re an arrogant little bitch, aren’t you?” said Vera.

“Don’t speak to her like that,” John snarled, taking a step forward, but Anna held up her hand.

“I don’t need you to fight my battles for me, John,” she said.

“But you’re quite happy to fight his,” sneered Vera.

“Because he’s too much of a gentleman to do it himself,” Anna retorted. “He’ll fight with honour, but I can fight as dirty as the rest of them. So go on, I dare you. I can take you down any day of the week.”

“I highly doubt that.”

“Are you willing to test it?”

The two women stared each other down. Anna was several inches shorter than Vera was, but she stood tall and unafraid, and in that moment John felt, despite the sickening pounding of his heart, such a warm surge of affection for her. She really was the best of women. No one had ever defended him like this before, and it did not make him feel vulnerable. In fact, he had never felt more powerful. Taking a deep breath, he limped around the room to Anna’s side, positioning himself protectively at her shoulder.

“I think it’s time you left,” he told Vera quietly.

Her eyes flashed. “I don’t think so, Johnny. I’m not going to make this easy for you.”

“Then allow me to make this easy for you,” said Anna, taking a step forward. “If you don’t leave now I will call the police. John owes you nothing. If you continue to harass him then I will personally make sure that you get your just desserts, starting with breaking and entering. I have a friend in the police force, you see, and he’d be very happy to take my case up. A quiet word in the right person’s ear and you’ll be behind bars in no time. I suspect that you wouldn’t like it there.”

“Are you threatening me?” Vera hissed. “Because I can have you tied up just as quickly.”

“I’d like to see you try,” said Anna. “Who would believe you over me? I’d be willing to wager on that outcome. So go on, try me.”

Vera glared at them with a stare icy enough to freeze before turning on her heel and storming to the door. In the threshold she turned.

“This isn’t the last you’ve seen of me,” she said.

“Yes,” said Anna, “it is.” She marched across the room. “Darken this doorstep again and you’ll be sorry you ever did.”

“Is that a threat?”

“No,” said Anna. “It’s a promise.” With that, she slammed the door in Vera’s face.

Ringing silence followed. Every muscle in John’s body was tensed, as if ready for battle. He strained to hear Vera’s footsteps fading away.

“That won’t be the end of it,” he said softly.

Anna was breathing hard. “I beg to differ. I don’t think she’s stupid enough to test it.”

She wasn’t stupid, no, but she was cunning, and would not take kindly to being made a fool of in front of him. Still, John pushed his disquiet away for the time being. “I’m sorry you had to see that.”

“Don’t be. I always knew that she was a bitch, but I never realised just how much until just now.”

“I can’t imagine it was a cosy atmosphere.”

She laughed. “Oh, it wasn’t. I think I took her by surprise, actually. She was probably expecting to see you coming through the door and instead she got me. For a split-second I think she thought she’d broken into the wrong flat before she put two and two together. It was an interesting fifteen minutes to say the least.”

“I’d understand if this changed things between us.”

“Don’t be silly! I meant what I said, John Bates. You’re a wonderful, wonderful man, but you’d let her walk all over you. I won’t let that happen. And I certainly won’t let her ruin what we have. It’s good, isn’t it?”

He looked at her. Yes, it was good. Better than good. He’d never known relationships could be like this. Such bliss.

“Yes,” he said. “Yes, it’s good.”

“There we are, then,” Anna said simply. “That’s all there is to it. She’s not going to win. I won’t let her.”

“I just can’t believe meeting her hasn’t put you off me.”

“I know you have a past, John. So does everyone else. I meant what I said. I know you’re not the same man as before, and I like you just as you are. She was right about one thing, though.”

“Oh?” said John, his heart twisting.

Anna gave him a little smile. “Your milk has gone off. So how about we do what we’ve done all week and go down to mine?”

She came over to his side and wrapped her arms around him. John squeezed her back tightly, stooping to rest his chin against the crown of her head. He couldn’t share her certainty that Vera was gone for good, but there was one thing that he had total confidence in:

No matter what, Anna would be right there, fighting tooth and nail for what they could build together.

And he’d never been happier.

-- --

Melted Chocolate, Gooey Hearts

These days, Robert frequently liked to tell him that he had become one of those exceedingly dull people whose personalities all but disappeared when they met someone they liked. John rolled his eyes in return, though he suspected that there was some truth in his friend’s words, and more than a little fear that things were changing. As happy as Robert was for him, their friendship was entering unchartered waters; in all of the years that they had known each other—over two decades now—Robert had never known him to be in a happy, stable relationship. It was bound to be weird for him. Hell, it was weird for John himself.

But as incomprehensible as it all sounded, things were going better than ever with Anna. She was endlessly patient with him as he navigated through feelings and situations he had never known before; after their first real fight, he had been sure that it was all over, that she would scream that she never wanted to see him again. That was something that Vera would have done, screeching abuse at him about everything from his worthless disability to his inadequacy in the bedroom, before she would have stormed back into his life as if she knew that no one else in the world had a right to be there but her.

His tongue, often sharpened by the drink and by Vera’s goading, had not completely forgotten how to injure, but he had been racked by a crippling guilt he had never known before as soon as he’d uttered harsh words to Anna. She had not flinched, but he had sensed the hardening of her mouth, and her request for him to leave had not been an unreasonable one. He’d gone at once, too cowardly to do any different, and had spent the following day with his phone in his sweaty palm, trying to work up the courage to speak to her, to grovel at her feet like she deserved. In the end, inevitably, Anna had come to him, still stony and barbed, but at least willing to work on his awful imperfections. He had not been able to thank her enough for giving him the second chance he did not merit, and had promised himself that no matter what it took he would master that stupid Irish temper of his, because Anna had already sacrificed so much for him, and he would not pay her back more poorly than he already was.

They’d worked through it, like adults should, and he marvelled at the fact that he was able to have a mature, normal relationship with a woman that did not involve constantly breaking-and-making up. Anna stoked his desire to be a better man, and if there was anyone he was determined to succeed for, it was for her.

So they had gone from strength to strength, and now John finally felt in a place of peace.

On their six month anniversary, he splashed down the high street. The warm August rain was a welcome change to the unbearably hot weather they’d been enduring recently, and he tilted his head up to it, enjoying the feel of it against his face. It brought back decent memories of his time in the army, when any kind of relief from the searing weather abroad had been seized with both hands, and his comrades had whooped and run out into it, relishing the novelty of being cool once more. Anna too enjoyed the rain, and he would never forget the first moment that he’d seen her out in it, drenched to the bone in a summer monsoon, arms wide as if welcoming it; he’d joined her there, kissing her fiercely as if they were in some corny movie, her mouth warm and wet, rivulets running down her skin. It was another memory he’d treasure forever.

He was just splashing past the bright lights of the big name department store when he saw it. The local chocolatier’s shop window was cosy and inviting, filled with all manner of delectable treats, and John was drawn to them at once. He pressed his palm against the cool glass, peering closer at the display.

They’d already exchanged presents that morning, of course. He’d bought her a delicate piece of jewellery, his anxiety rising all the time as he tried to decide what was a suitable gift for a first, small anniversary; in return she had surprised him with a thoughtful weekend away to Harrogate, a quaint little Yorkshire town he had always been interested in visiting.

But Anna loved chocolate, and he had many happy memories of her sneaking the last one, or choosing the sweetest, chocolatiest thing on the menu to satisfy her cravings. Chocolates were a simple gift, but he had already gone for the overt declaration, and he knew that she would appreciate this small gesture just as much as any other. Shaking his head like a dog to dispel some of the excess water, he shuffled inside the shop.

There were so many things that he was spoiled for choice. In the end he plumped for the personal box, which meant that he could fill it with whatever chocolate he wanted. He chose all of Anna’s favourites, from strawberry-centred to caramel, and the shop worker kindly wrapped it up in a neat bow, much better than anything he could have done. Satisfied, he continued with his journey home.

Once there he laid the box down on the table and headed for the shower. It would be nice to scrub the grime from the day away, and he wanted to look his best for Anna. They were not going out to dine tonight—they had reservations for the weekend—but he still wanted to make the best impression he could.

By the time he got out of the shower, however, it was to a missed call on his phone from Anna. Frowning, he swiped it open. What could be wrong? He hoped she was okay. He hadn’t expected to hear from her before he met up with her. He hit the speed dial that she’d inputted for him and thrust the phone against his ear, waiting for her to answer.

She did so almost immediately.

“Hi,” she said, sounding tired.

“Hello, my darling. I’m sorry I missed your call. Are you okay?”

“Yes, I’m fine,” she sighed, but she didn’t quite sound it. “Just…I’m sorry, John.”

“Sorry? For what?”

Now her voice trembled slightly. “I think I have to cancel tonight.”

His stomach plummeted in disappointment, but he kept his voice even. “Oh, okay.”

“I hate myself for having to do it.”

“Can I…can I ask why?”

“Oh! Oh, yes, of course. I’m sorry, my head’s all over the place at the minute.”

It was all the work she was doing at the moment. When she wasn’t working out in the real world she was coming home to pore over her assignments, determined to get the best grades and achieve her dream of helping others as a career. John was so proud of her, but it was troubling too—he was trying to find that fine line of supporting her with every fibre of his being and also stepping in to make her take a break when he thought that she was doing far too much. He did not want her to think that he was trying to control her life in any way—Christ, that was the last thing he wanted to do—but at the same time he wanted to let her know that he was concerned about her, that he cared about her.

That he loved her.

The words had not yet passed his lips, but that did not make his feelings any less true.

“I’ve got to finish my assignment.” Anna’s voice pulled him back to the present, and he forced himself to focus on her words. “I thought I was done but…well, I think I must have pressed the wrong button last night and it hasn’t saved it and I didn’t notice it because I didn’t go to bed until gone one, so I’m going to have to do the final bit all over again and it’s due on Friday so I have to get it done—”

“Say no more,” he interrupted her. “I get it. We didn’t have any plans.”

“You really don’t mind?”

“Of course I don’t!”

“I wish things could be different,” she said fretfully. “I just feel like a horrible girlfriend, not wanting to see you.”

“I know you want to see me. And it’s not like it’s a proper anniversary. Hell, it’s not a year’s. It’s fine, Anna, honestly.”

“But…”

The idea occurred to him then. “Well, how about…how about I come down to yours anyway, then? I won’t get in your way. I’ll be like a little ghost in the flat. I’ll bring a book to keep me occupied but I could cook you something so you don’t have to stop what you’re doing. And I promise that I won’t speak a single word to you until you’re done for the evening. How does that sound?”

“That sounds wonderful,” said Anna gratefully. “But are you sure you don’t mind?”

“No, of course I don’t. I’d do anything for you. You know that.”

The words lingered all over again, like they had the first time he’d spoken them, and he heard the smile in Anna’s voice. “Then please, come on down. I’d love to see you.”

“I’ll be there as soon as I can,” he said. Feeling happier than he had at the beginning of the conversation, he pulled on his clothes, swiped the chocolates from the table and then, as an afterthought, raided his fridge for some ingredients. He knew what Anna could be like, and when she was in the zone as she had been this week, she often forgot to check to see what she had in stock. He did not want to be confronted with an empty fridge when he arrived and, since meeting Anna, he had become a lot better about making sure that he had actual food to work with and not just microwave meals for one.

Satisfied that he had everything he needed, he set off down the flight of steps for Anna’s place. He keyed himself in. She was sitting at her little desk in the sitting room, but she swivelled around on her chair when he entered, giving him a beaming smile.

“Hey,” she said.

John mimed zipping his mouth. “I’m not here, remember?”

“So I can’t even say hello to you?”

“Not if it’s going to distract you from what you’re doing,” he teased.

She pouted. “So that means I don’t get a kiss?”

“You’ll get a kiss goodnight when I leave. Or you’ll get one as a reward if you finish your paper before then.”

“Is that a challenge, Mr. Bates?”

“It might be. The question is, are you up for it?”

She jutted her chin. “I think I might be.”

“Great. Well, you get on. I’m going to go through to the kitchen and start cooking. I’ll let you know when I’m done.”

“Okay,” she said, turning back to her work. John watched her for a beat longer before moving towards the kitchen. He enjoyed being in here. It was laid out in exactly the same way that his was, but she’d filled her cupboards differently, and each time he opened one expecting to see one thing and finding another he felt like he was getting to know her just that little bit more intimately. It was a nice feeling.

He was certainly no connoisseur, so he stuck to something tried and trusted. His mother had once shown him how to make a mean lasagne, and it had become his signature dish. He chopped potatoes for homemade chips and cleared away his mess whilst his basic creation cooked, determined that Anna wouldn’t have anything to fuss with tonight. When that was done he sat himself down at the table and pulled out his book. The longer he could leave Anna on her own, the better.

Once tea was cooked, he popped his head in on the sitting room.

“Love, it’s ready,” he said.

Anna glanced up, rubbing at her eyes. She was looking sleepy now. “Oh, thank you, John. I’m coming.”

She pushed her chair away and made her way towards him. He pressed a kiss to her forehead as she passed, and it made her smile brighten. That only made the warm glow in his chest kindle more vibrantly. Following her, he plated up the meal and took it across to her.

“Do you want any wine?” he asked her as he sat himself down.

“Better not,” she said. “It’ll send me straight to sleep and that won’t do me any good. I can have a celebratory glass later.”

“Fair enough.” John chewed a mouthful of food, gathered his courage, and said, “I have something else for you.”

She cocked an eyebrow at him. “What do you mean?”

“Well, I know we’ve already exchanged gifts but it’s only something small.” He pushed his chair away from the table and fetched the chocolates, which he had left on the side. Anna’s eyes widened when she saw the box.

“Oh, John, you didn’t have to!” she cooed, taking them from his hands. “You’re so thoughtful.”

He shrugged. “I wish it was something better, but…”

“It’s perfect,” she told him firmly. “These are my favourites. Thank you so much. These will make the perfect dessert.” She leaned across the table and pressed her mouth to his, and he couldn’t stop himself from smiling.

“You’re welcome. Now, how about we eat so you can get back to work?”

“That eager to get rid of me?” she teased.

“No, of course not!” he said. “But the quicker you get done, the quicker we can spend some quality time together.”

She beamed at him, and attacked her food with gusto. When they were done, John insisted that she leave the tidying up to him so that she could concentrate on what mattered. She protested a little but soon disappeared back into the sitting room, taking the chocolates with her. John hummed to himself as he returned the kitchen to its pre-tea state.

Once he was finished, he decided that he couldn’t hide in the kitchen any longer, and took his book though to the sitting room. He had no intention of disturbing Anna, but he reasoned that he wouldn’t be too much of a distraction if he just sat on the sofa quietly whilst she worked.

The book was less than enthralling when compared with Anna .He tried reading a few pages but he kept catching his gaze slipping away from the page and latching on to Anna instead, studying her as she studied her notes. The warm glow in his heart spread further, warming him to the tips of his fingers and toes. She had her feet tucked up beneath her, chewing whimsically at the end of the pen she had in her mouth. She looked unbearably adorable like that, the little frown of concentration creasing her brows.

“What are you staring at?” she murmured without looking up from the page.

“How did you know I was looking at you?” he grinned.

“I can feel the weight of your gaze on me. Besides, I haven’t heard you rustling the pages on your book for ages.”

“Guilty as charged,” he said. “I was just thinking.”

“Hmm?” Anna turned the page of the medical book she was using as a reference, her finger moving lazily over the lines. “What’s that then?”

“I was just thinking about how much I love you.”

He could tell that she hadn’t truly registered what he had said, too preoccupied with what she was reading. “That’s good.”

He stretched, abandoning his book to one side. “I hope it is.”

Anna didn’t immediately respond, bending to write something else on the page. This had not been his plan for the evening. He still did not want to distract her from what she needed to do. She was so close to realising her dream of helping those around her. Qualifying as a nurse would be her greatest achievement, and she was a mere two assignments away from doing just that. He wanted to support her every step of the way, but now that he had given voice to the thoughts that had been clamouring in his head for so long now, it was difficult to box them back up.

He’d been careful to hold himself back, not wanting to get too carried away in what they had, but since she had sent Vera packing so admirably, never swaying away from any of the barbs that had been thrown at her, it had made him fall even harder for her, and no matter what came now, it was time that she knew.

“It is,” she murmured, scrabbling about on her desk for a chocolate without looking and popping it into her mouth. They were melting; he watched as she popped her thumb into her mouth and sucked off the excess chocolate. How beautiful she was.

“Well, that’s good, then. I was half-afraid that my confession of love would go down like a lead balloon.”

“Of course it wouldn’t,” she said absently, then froze halfway through turning the page. Very slowly, she turned to look at him, as if she didn’t quite dare believe what she thought she’d heard. “Wait, what?”

John couldn’t help grinning broadly, folding his arms across his chest. “I said that I’m glad you’re not against hearing that I love you.”

“What?”

“Are you going deaf?” He paused for greater effect, then said with slow deliberation, dragging out the words, “I love you.”

Anna blinked at him a few times, as if that would help her to process the information better. “You…love me?”

“I do.”

“You love me.”

“Yes.”

“Bloody hell,” she said, throwing down her pen; it hit the edge of her desk and bounced away. She didn’t seem to notice, leaping to her feet and sending her chair clattering sideways. “You just said—you love—bloody hell!”

“Are you all right?” he asked her, amused. His glee quickly softened into something soft and all-consuming as she turned those blue eyes on him. They were shimmering with unshed tears, and when she spoke again, her voice was quivering.

“I don’t believe it.”

“Believe,” he told her, echoing her word from all that time ago. “And…and it’s okay? You’re not put off or anything?”

She gave a shaky laugh. “You silly beggar! As if I’d be put off by that! In my whole life, I’ve never been as happy as I am in this moment. You have no idea how long I’ve waited to hear those words, John. I love you too.”

Now it was his turn to be momentarily paralysed. “You do?” In his most hopeful imaginings he’d yearned to hear her echo those words back at him, so that they could have the fairy tale ending that they both deserved. But somehow, hearing those words in reality blew away every single visualisation that he’d ever had. He’d never been able to conjure up that level of emotion in her voice, an overwhelming mix of delight, desire, and giddy disbelief.

“I love you too,” she repeated. “I love you so much, John.”

She swept towards him then, and practically launched herself at him. He huffed as her full weight careened into him, instinctively moving to wrap his arms around her. She buried her head against his shoulder, squeezing him tight in return.

“This feels like a dream,” she said, her voice muffled. “Please don’t wake me up.”

He toyed with her hair, cradling the back of her head in his hand. “Don’t worry, I won’t.”

Although things had hopefully changed forever—and for better—between them, life still had to go on. Anna still had her assignment to finish. He still had to play the role of overseer to ensure that she didn’t get too side-tracked.

Anna pulled back enough to press her mouth against his, tasting of the delicious chocolates. As he held her in his arms, John supposed they could delay for just a few more minutes to bask in this perfect golden moment.

-- --

The prompt was:

I JUST MOVED INTO A NEW APARTMENT AND WENT TO BUY GROCERIES, BUT I BOUGHT MORE THAN I COULD CARRY BACK. I’VE STOPPED TO CATCH MY BREATH WHEN I HEAR SOMEONE ASKING IF I NEED HELP AND I LOOK UP AND THE SUN IS LITERALLY MAKING YOU GLOW LIKE A DAMN ANGEL AU

#John Bates #Anna Bates #Anna x Bates #Banna #Downton Abbey #my fanfiction #AnnaxBates #Anna/Bates #Team Bates #OTP: thank God and you

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