#grandpa sweater matt

[alyrasturnz]

Ik u just made a post abt us being masochistic for only wanting angst but i just have one last teeny tiny angst request...

Matt hcs when y/n dies

I KNOW THIS SOUNDS SO BAD BUT PLS I JUST NEED ITTT

 ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎BIGGER THAN THE WHOLE SKY

❐ summary » in the labyrinth of his sorrow, matt finds himself adrift, unable to navigate the stormy seas of grief without you as his guiding star. each day, he stumbles through a fog of memories, where every corner of his world is haunted by the ghost of your absence. the simplest tasks become herculean, for your presence once imbued them with meaning. without you by his side, he is a traveler lost in a desert, parched for the oasis of your companionship, yet knowing it is a mirage forever out of reach.

❐ pairings » bf!matt x fem!reader

❐ warnings » death

❐ a/n && w/c » my grandpa passed while i was writing this. isn't that so coincidental •

bf!matt who keeps your side of the bed unmade, unable to disturb the last imprint of where you once lay. each night, he lies on his side, reaching out to the empty space, hoping to feel your warmth just once more.

bf!matt who keeps one of your favorite sweaters, inhaling your scent whenever he feels overwhelmed by grief. the familiar smell brings a bittersweet comfort, a connection to your lingering presence.

bf!matt who starts a journal where he documents his daily life, writing as if you were still there to read it. he shares his thoughts, his pain, and the moments he wishes you could have experienced together.

bf!matt who makes two cups of coffee every morning, placing one in front of your empty chair. the untouched mug serves as a poignant reminder of the mornings you shared, now lost to time.

bf!matt who spends special dates, like anniversaries and birthdays, in solitude and reflection. he visits places that held meaning for you both, reliving memories and silently celebrating your life.

bf!matt who can't bring himself to delete your number from his phone. occasionally, he sends texts to your number, messages filled with his longing and love, knowing they'll never be read.

bf!matt who lets the garden you once tended together become overgrown and wild. he can't bring himself to maintain it, feeling that the chaos mirrors his own heart without your presence.

bf!matt who leaves projects you started together unfinished, unable to continue them alone. each incomplete task is a testament to the life you planned but never got to fully live.

bf!matt who keeps your side of the bed unmade, unable to disturb the last imprint of where you once lay. each night, he lies on his side, reaching out to the empty space, hoping to feel your warmth just once more.

bf!matt who keeps one of your favorite sweaters, inhaling your scent whenever he feels overwhelmed by grief. the familiar smell brings a bittersweet comfort, a connection to your lingering presence.

bf!matt who starts a journal where he documents his daily life, writing as if you were still there to read it. he shares his thoughts, his pain, and the moments he wishes you could have experienced together.

bf!matt who makes two cups of coffee every morning, placing one in front of your empty chair. the untouched mug serves as a poignant reminder of the mornings you shared, now lost to time.

bf!matt who spends special dates, like anniversaries and birthdays, in solitude and reflection. he visits places that held meaning for you both, reliving memories and silently celebrating your life.

bf!matt who can't bring himself to delete your number from his phone. occasionally, he sends texts to your number, messages filled with his longing and love, knowing they'll never be read.

bf!matt who lets the garden you once tended together become overgrown and wild. he can't bring himself to maintain it, feeling that the chaos mirrors his own heart without your presence.

bf!matt who leaves projects you started together unfinished, unable to continue them alone. each incomplete task is a testament to the life you planned but never got to fully live.

[yarrystyleeza]

Always So Good With The Kids, And Kids Absolutely Love Him

Requested by @munsonownsmyass

(so my thoughts on this are soft!matt with the ship dynamic: childhood friends with love interest in each other)

Word count: the range of 1,185 words, utter toothaching fluff like a birthday cake! <3

You loved volunteering for Saint Agnes church, the place you grew up at, as you were raised catholic, you usually went to church on Sundays, and attended all events usually scheduled during the week. You got to know a lot of people, from the children your age to the elderly grandpas, and made a lot of good relationships and connections with them.

You had your own job — which was working perfectly fine for you, but you loved sticking around with the children of the orphanage, their poor small innocent hearts deserved all the care and pamper — that was always your thought about them, and it never changed.

Because you were close with one of them once, growing up, as you attended events with your parents, you got to know the kid who never left the place, Matt Murdock, the blind boy. His father, Battlin' Jack Murdock, died when Matt was only 11, and he had no other place to go, so he was staying at the orphanage attached to the church.

He was the same your age, and he was so locked on himself, but only you managed to get him out of his bubble and open up to you about what he feels about the loss of his father, and the loss of his sight, — by then you've become friends, he found comfort in your company.

He even told you about the abilities he had kept for himself, about how the world felt from his perspective, the way he could hear electricity within the walls, and the sirens on the other side of Hell's Kitchen, how he can always smell your golden retriever on your sweaters, and the lavenders your mother grew by your bedroom window, or how he could taste each chemical the tap water contained; and that was fascinating to you as a kid.

Matt grew up to be a defense attorney, and you pursued your dream of being a journalist, and though your routes went sideways, you still remained friends after all those years, pick up a couple of drinks at the bar, or meet up at a diner in the afternoon.

He kept all his secrets with you, even the darkest of them, he told you about his secret identity, his super abilities, Elektra, and the Hand, — and you were always a keeper, you always listened and understood him, and never judged him, that's why he always looked for you when he's in trouble.

You loved spending Sunday evenings at the orphanage — among children, reading them stories and playing with them, you taught them how to bake and draw, and do the little house chores they can do, — and Matt loved to join you sometimes; he loved children, they were "angels on earth" to him, so he loved being around them, brought them presents, and played with them, — and he admired watching you doing something you loved and cherished.

But this Sunday was special, because it was your birthday, and the idea of spending that day with your little friends was something you would never put down.

The kids surprised you by rounding you in a big circle, singing "Happy Birthday miss y/n" and dancing around you, with little candles held in their little hands, they baked you a heart shaped cake with the help of the sisters, and made little drawings and paper boats as your birthday presents.

You sat on the floor and they sat around you, after crowning you with the glittery golden paper crown they made for you. They gave you their wishes. "miss y/n, I wish you can be a princess!" one of the little girls said, you kissed her temple, "well, katy, I couldn't be a princess, for there's already one here!" you replied as you pointed at her, and she turned into a ball of blush. "I wish you and Mr Murdock get married and have children!" a little boy said, it was your turn to blush, unable to articulate any understandable words out of all the laughter that choked you, you and Matt? Well, this was always on your mind. "umm... thank you, Eddie," that was the only sentence you could say. The kids sat silently with their legs crossed, and had their index fingers on their mouths as a hush, their little hushs rumbled around you. You were confused, about to tilt your head to see what they're staring at, "look at me, miss y/n! I have a present for you!" Eddie yelled at you, he ran to your arms and gave you the biggest hug his small arms could do.

"nice move, Eddie," before you could speak, he had cut you off with a kiss on your cheek, "happy birthday, sweetheart," he rounded you with his arms in a very warm embrace, a one you could sink in and sleep soundly. Matt playfully patted Eddie's chin, "I did what you asked me, Mr Murdock!" he chuckled and kissed Matt on the cheek, "oh, boy, you did!" Matt kissed his head.

"Mr Murdock!" the kids shouted, they hugged him and each gave him a kiss on the cheek; Matt have been always so good with the kids, and they absolutely love him, they even team together against you in games!

"what a great surprise, Matt. Didn't you have plans today?" you stated, as he fixed his posture next to you, folding his legs, "how could I miss a day so precious to me?" he answered with a question and a cocky smile, you huffed a chuckle and rolled your eyes.

"this was my plan for the day" he unwrapped the gift he brought to you, it was your all time favorite novel, signed by the author themselves, you swallowed a gasp, "Matt, you..." your words got stuck in your throat, "how could I forget something like that? You've always talked about how much you love that book, and let's say I had to meet the author privately, for him to write you a message..." you couldn't help but jump at him with a hug, and he secured you in his arms, "maybe you wanna go out with me tonight? Discuss Eddie's suggestions?" he soothed your cheek, drawing circles at your chin, "I'd love to," you pecked his lips quickly, and all the kids went "Yuck!!" and "Ew!!", you both laughed and continued on the little celebration the kids held, ate the cake, and sang together.

At the end of the day, the kids gathered around Matt, he kissed each on the crowns of their heads, "thank you for watching out for my girl, Eddie," he squatted to reach the boy's height, "you're welcome, mr Murdock... Are you bringing your baby next Sunday?" Matt chuckled, "that would be a great idea, right, y/n?" your eyes widened, "Matt!" you yelled, face red flushed, he giggled, "I guess she liked it."

The years went by and you and Matt got to have your very own children, but you never stopped going to the orphanage together, just to watch the little innocent hearts grow, and make new memories with the new kids.

Ayyyy, I'm so sorry for the late posting on this one, like I mentioned in an earlier post my internet connection was wobbly and I couldn't blog my own long posts (fics specifically) but now that the problem is fixed, here's your request...

Tell me what you think about this! And thanks for dropping the prompt! <3

Feel free to submit a prompt from this list in my ask (I only write for Matt Murdock)! <3

[scarisd3ad]

To the end and back | Daryl Dixon x reader

Chapter ten - fallen down

Previous >> next

Masterlist

Taglist

Summary - after the world ended you were sure you’d never find love again but a certain archer catches your eyes and changes the entire trajectory of your life.

Warning - regular twd warning

'Chupacabra'

Season 2 ep5

day one

"What the hell is happening?" my roommate Naoh said as the front door opens and closed. I was huddled up on the couch watching the news. 'People all across the United States are attacking each other" one news anchor said. about a week ago there were similar stories from France, but we all brushed it off. it wasn't our problem. now it was. people were attacking each other, viciously biting flesh out of each other's necks, arms, legs, anywhere they were able to access.

"I don't know" I whispered as Noah took a seat next to me. it seemed as though once you got bit you got just as violent as the others were. "We should probably get out of here it doesn't seem safe" Noah says. I shake my head "I'm not going out there."

"I should probably go call my brother see if my grandpa and grandma are alright" I replied quietly before getting up and walking towards my room. I wasn't leaving this apartment. I saw the news footage. it was terrifying. I dial my brother's number and put the phone up to my ear. it rings about twice before he answers. "y/n, are you alright?" he asks. my brother was only about 2 years younger than me. "I'm fine, is grandma and pops alright?" I asked. "Yeah..." he sighs "it's not as bad out here, grandpa wants me to come get you bring you back here" I shake my head "no matt it's too dangerous."

he lets out a sigh "I've gotta, can't leave you there, I'll be there tomorrow be ready." then he hung up. 3 hours later I received a phone call from him, he was screaming, there was groaning, and the sound of skin being ripped off the bone.

-

I wake up pressed against Daryl's chest. his arms are wrapped around my body and his cheek is smushed into the top of my head. he's got a tight hold on me, I can barely even wiggle. I try shaking him, but he doesn't even move. "Daryl" I whisper. Still no response. "Daryl!" I whisper shout. Still no response so now I just decided to embrace it. Just wait until he wakes up. Good thing he does end up waking up 12 minutes later though. "I'm sorry sugar, we're you waitin' for me to make up?" He asks, his voice still deep and groggy from sleep. "Yeah, but it's fine" I whisper as he unwraps his arms from around me. Daryl presses his lips lightly to mine before he exits the tent leaving me by myself.

I exit the tent soon after with my sweater wrapped around my body. the suns fully up in the sky so I know it's at least almost noon. carol is hanging up laundry and Daryl is grouped up with a few of the people in our group. I walk up assuming I'm going to be involved in the search again, but Daryl stops me. "you're not goin' today" he says as he grabs both of my hands. I cock my head to the side; I had assumed that since yesterday went so well id be going again. "What? why?" I ask, brows furrowed "s'not safe, can't have you gettin' hurt" I'm even more confused now, because we didn't even come across any walkers yesterday.

I was perfectly fine yesterday, and I felt like a held my own, I thought I proved I was skilled enough to help. "What? but I-"

"don't argue, just listen to me. I can do it by myself. I don't need your help. you'll just slow me down" my brows now furrowed into an angry knot. did he really think i was slowing him down. "Hey y/n can come with Shane and I" Andrea offers "no she's stayin' here" replies Daryl. it wasn't like I wanted to go with Shane, but I wanted to make my own decisions. "fine" I mutter angrily before stomping off in the opposite direction.

I see Glenn lightly strumming away on a guitar on the front porch and immediately begin walking towards him. I take a seat in the rocking chair next to him. "What are you pissed off about now?" he asks with a chuckle. it's funny how he knows I'm mad just by one look. "He won't let me go, and he said I was slowing him down" I say with an angry sigh as I fold my arms over my chest. "I thought I proved myself to him! I thought yesterday went well."

"he's an asshole, I don't even know why I like him" I mutter to myself. "Hey on the bright side that means you get to stay with me. crazy shit happens here, yesterday we pulled a walker out of one of those wells" Glenn laughs. I roll my eyes, that's disgusting I hope we don't have to do that today. "He won't even let me leave this farm" I groan. the front door swings open and then shut. both Glenn and I turn our heads to see Maggie. Maggie gives Glenn an awkward smile, the kind you'd give to your ex in the hallway during high school. I get up, it felt awkward just sitting there. "I'll talk to you later" I mutter as I walk away. it was weird seeing my best friend in an almost relationship.

especially the friend I thought had never even been within 2 feet of a girl before me. it was like watching your little brother explore romance for the first time. when Glenn told me last night he had sex with Maggie, I literally felt like puking. a picture popped up in my head I did not want to see. it was like imagining my brother having sex. blegh.

-

its afternoon now, I've been busying myself with random chores to keep my mind from wandering. "Hey, y/n can I talk to you?" asks Lori as she walks up to me. I nod dropping whatever I was doing and following her. she pulls me aside to a private area, where no one was in earshot of hearing our conversation. "What I'm going to tell you, you have to promise not to tell rick, or...Shane especially not Shane" she whispers. my brows furrow up, what did she have to say to me that was so bad she couldn't tell her husband? "What is it?" I ask cocking my head to the side just a bit. "I'm pregnant" she whispers. my eyes widened; Lori was pregnant. we'd have to protect not only ourselves but a newborn in 9 months. we didn't even have a way for her to have a safe birth. yeah, Hershel had practiced in the medical field but on animals! whose was it. I knew her and Shane were going at it, but I assumed he at least pulled out. "Seriously?" I ask, I knew she wouldn't play a prank like that, but I just wanted to make sure. she nods slowly.

"Whose is I-" she cuts me off quickly "Ricks its Ricks." oh, that wasn't the reaction I was expecting. "Are you going to keep it?" I ask. she shrugs her shoulders as she says, "I don't know."

after she tells me that she gets up and walks away. I can't believe she's pregnant, this wasn't a world to raise a child in anymore, but that wasn't my decision, it was hers, and ricks (or Shane's). "Holy shit" I mutter as I rub my hand from the top to the bottom of my face. I get up and decide to walk over to the rv where Dale and Andrea are keeping a look out. I feel like Daryl should be back by now, at least to take just a little break. but it is still just the afternoon, if it gets past evening time ill actually start worrying.

I climb up to the top. "How are you doin kid?" asks Dale as I take a seat on the edge of the rv. "fine" whisper as I squint my eyes trying my best to see out into the woods. I was desperate to see him walk out and into the field of grass. but there is nothing, nothing at all. "You think he's alright?" I ask. Dale nods "its barely even noon" he says before returning to his duties. I sigh as I dangle my legs off the side of the rv. I swing them forwards and back, and forwards and back. zoning out as I stare out at the trees, hoping, wishing, praying id see him peak out safe, and alive.

"y/n?"

that pulls me out, the sound of someone's muffled voice. "y/n?" I look down. Shane. ugh I don't want to talk to him. "What?" I mutter "I need to talk to you" I roll my eyes "okay talk" he shakes his head "alone" I scoff, did he really think I'd go with him, after what he did to me, after what he did to Lori. "Hell no, you're either talking to me here or you're not talking to me." he groans and mumbles "stubborn bitch" I'm going to pretend he didn't say that. "Come on, I need to talk to you." Dale takes his eyes away from the forest for one second looking down at Shane "leave the girl alone" he says before looking back up. "y/n."

"Fine, don't touch me or I swear ill hurt you" he rolls his eyes as if he doesn't believe I'll hurt him if he even lays a pinky on me. I get back down to the ground and follow him. "I think we should call of the search" he says. why is he telling me this? like I had to power to veto his or ricks decisions. I scoff, just because I have no power to veto the decision doesn't mean I can't fight for the right thing "you can't." if it was carl, he and rick would be looking night and day but just because it was Sophia, they were calling it off.

"yeah, well we are, you've got to understand she's not fuckin' aliv-" I really tried not to but I just couldn't help it, I balled up my fist and punch him right in the jaw.

he groans in pain as his hands instantly grasped at his jaw. I don't want to wait around for him to try and hurt me. were in the middle of the zombie apocalypse morals are off the table at this point. if he wanted to touch me, he could do it and go off scot-free. he grabs my wrist and turns me around quickly "don't you ever fucki-" I bring my knee up between his legs and knee him right in the balls. "God dammit!" he groans as he lets go off me. I run off immediately I'm not making the same mistake twice.

I make my way back towards Hershel's farm quickly, not wanting Shane to stop me again, and possible hurt me worse than I did to him. I see Glenn, I go straight to Glenn. I always do I don't know why, if I see Glenn, I have to go towards him, no matter what I'm doing I have to go check on him. make sure he's alright, make sure he's real, make sure I'm not just making him up. "what'd you do?" he asks his head still facing down towards the ground looking at whatever he's doing. I laugh, how'd he always know what I was thinking. "I didn't do anything" I scoff, I can see his eyes roll playfully. "I punched Shane" I whispered. he lets out a hearty laugh as he leans his head back. "Seriously?" he asks through laughter; I nod with a small smirk on my lips. "Oh my god" I turn around to see Shane limping towards the farm with a reddish bruise already forming on his jaw. both Glenn and I laugh as Shane glares are way. "You did not just punch him!" laughs Glenn. I sigh as I take a seat next to Glenn. "I might've kicked him in the balls too" I whisper. Glenn closes his eyes and lets out a barely audible laugh. "you're amazing you know that?" I grin at him "yep" I say with a laugh as I lean my head onto his shoulder. "You going to help cook dinner with Lori and Carol?" asks Glenn as we both calm down. I shake my head, I didn't even know that was happening, but now I'm thinking about Daryl again. I guess the punching Shane got me distracted but now I'm thinking again. it's getting late, He's still not back. I should've gone with him, fought to go with him. he could've gotten bit; he could be dead, and I wouldn't even know. I'm scared, I don't want to lose him. I just realized how much I... no.

"You alright?" asks Glenn. I shake my head. I'm not alright, my brain is thinking too much, my brain is showing me every possible situation Daryl is stuck in right now and I can control it. it just keeps popping up in my head. Daryl dead, Daryl bitten, Daryl as a walker. what if he fell off that goddamn horse and hit his head, then he wouldn't be able to fight the walkers off. he'd get bitten and not even realize it. what if he's dead, what if I've lost him. I can't lose him too. "Hey, he's fine you know that?" Glenn asks as he pulls me into a hug.

I rest my head onto his shoulder and soak up the feeling of his arms around me. he tries to pull away, but I pull him back into the hug "just a few more seconds...please?" Glenn sighs as he melts into my grip. "You don't need to worry about him." Glenn whispers, "what if he's dead?". I let out a sigh, I need to realize a walker isn't going to take him out, I've watched him take out walkers several walkers easily. I bury my head into his shoulder. I couldn't live without Glenn; I don't know what I'd do without him. "Thank you." he rubs small circles into my back "for what?"

"For being here. I don't know what I'd do without you."

"isn't that what best friends are for?" he laughs as he pulls away. I never knew when I found that stupid group just outside of Atlanta id find my soulmate. Glenn was the best thing to ever happen to me. I'd probably end up dead if I didn't have him. when I first met that stupid, goofy guy on my first night I didn't realize id be this attached two months later. the guy who tried his best to talk to me when I curled myself up into a ball and stared off into space, the guy who annoyed the shit out of me until I'd tell him my name. god "I don't know what I'd do without you Glenn." I whispered.

he grins "I know." laughter erupts between the two of us. "I've gotta go return something to dale" sighs Glenn as he stands up. I nod and follow his actions as he walks towards dales rv. "I'll go too." reply. I follow after Glenn as he walks towards the rv. Glenn peaks inside before looking up and Andrea who is stood up on top of the rv with a gun. "where's dale?" shouts Glenn. Andrea shrugs. both Glenn and I go ahead into the rv and sit at the table.

Glenn takes his hat off and discards it on the table. "y/n? you're a girl....right?" I laugh as I lean my head back slightly. "Yeah, why are you asking?" Glenn shrugs as he runs his fingers through his hair. "All of you guys are acting weird, are you guys on your....periods?" I scoff "what do you mean?" I asked as I crossed my arms. I was not in fact on my period, and Lori was well pregnant. "you're being all emotional, Lori's being well..., and Maggie is confusing the hell out of me." he sighs. "Sure okay, I cried once today and that makes me emotional" I mumbled under my breath before saying "Lori told you?" his eyes widened "did she tell you?" he asks "that's she's...y'know. yeah" I replied with a nod.so Lori has told another person, and the other person is my best friend, I guess this secret was going to be easier to keep than I thought. then I thought about Maggie confusing Glenn, I thought they liked each other, well at least enough to have sex. "Anyways...what's going on with Maggie?" as ask as I prop my elbow up on the table and lean my head against my palm. "she's being confusing y'know like she was being mean to me, and then she wanted to have sex, and now she's being mean again?" that sounded like the shit I used to pull in high school when I liked a boy. you be mean, to convince them to try harder to get you. well, I never had sex with them, but I was definitely playing hard to get. "Maybe she's playing hard to get" I say with a shrug.

Dale walks in with a bucket. he stops at the door when he sees Glenn and I. "sorry. just returning your book." Glenn says picking up the book and placing it back down. dale walks towards the table and puts the bucket down before picking up the book and examining it. "Oh no, I'm sorry. if I'd known the world was ending, I'd have brough better books" Dale jokes before through the book with his others. Glenn snickers, Dale picks up the bucket and continues walking towards the back of the rv. Glenn lets out a sigh before standing up and leaning himself against the wall that was behind him. "Um Dale, you think Andrea's on her period?" I roll my eyes exaggeratingly before turning and busying myself by looking through Dale's books. this conversation was going to be even more awkward than the one he had with me. dale makes a 'quiet down' like gesture which makes me laugh. "I-I'm only asking Cause it's like all the women are acting..really weird." whispers Glenn, as Dale walks a bit closer to Glenn. I roll my eyes "a-and..and I read somewhere that when women...spend a lot of time together, their cycles line up and they all get super crazy and hormonal at the same time" I let out an exaggerated sigh, I bet half of us haven't had more than 1 period since the outbreak because of all of the stress and lack of nutrients. but if it was any other situation where all of us women were spending this much time together our cycle probably would link up. Dale stops him "um I'm gonna advise you to keep that theory to yourself." Dale says "I would too" I say as I read the back description of a book called 'limbo'.

Glenn turns his head towards me with his brows raised. "What?" I ask with a laugh. he shakes his head before turning back towards Dale. "Who else is acting weird?" asks dale. "Well y/n's being really..well emotional." Glenn says in a hushed tone, hoping I wouldn't hear but I did. "Shut the hell up" I joke. I wasn't being emotional though, I guess when a guy sees a girl crying its automatically connected to a period. "You see." Glenn says as he sits back down with a sigh. "And uh...Maggie." Glenn says pointing his finger. "Ah. Maggie." dale sighs, raising his eyebrows almost as he predicted Glenn was going to say Maggie. "She started off being mean to me. then she wanted to have sex with me. and now she's being mean to me again." Glenn explains. my theory is that she's playing hard to get, she already had sex with him, but with the details I've been given its was purely off of physical interest, or for strictly for pleasure. but maybe she's realized she likes Glenn more than just in a physical way. "And I-I don't even want to know what's going on with Lori." Glenn says with a scoff. I send a glare that says 'shut the fuck up' Lori told me not to tell anyone and I'm sure she told the same to Glenn. he has a 'shit did I say that' look on his face. "what's going on with Lori?" Dale asks with his brows furrowed. both Glenn and I share a look his saying 'what the fuck do I say?' and mine saying 'don't say anything.' "Nothing...I-I don't know." he says shaking his head as he presses one hand against his hip. god could he make it anymore obvious that he knew something. "Alright, let's take thi-this back a step, how do you know...that Maggie wanted to have sex with you?" Dale asks with a chuckle. I lower my head into my hands and laugh, I hate being in the same room when Glenn is talking about him having sex.

Glenn looks up at Dale blushing with his balled-up hand pressed against his mouth. Dale looks between us as his smile drops. "Oh son, you didn't." Glenn as a shit eating grin on his face, he's very proud of himself. dumbass. "Did it evet occur to you how her father might feel about this?" I never even thought about that, well maybe because my first thought was 'ew gross, get that picture out of my head'. Glenns smile drops as he furrows his brows. "she's 22." Glenn says with a half shrug. I roll my eyes, it didn't really matter if she was an adult, if someone you're taking in fucks your daughter, you're obviously going to be pissed whether she's an adult or not. "And he is out host." Glenn gives a little nod "he doesn't know."

"Well, see that it stays that way" Dale says throwing his hands up in the air. Dale has his head turned the other way, shaking his head with a disgusted and disappointed look on his face. Glenn is about to get a stern lecture and I can't wait to see it; it was like watching you're younger sibling get in trouble. I don't know what it was with Dale, but he felt the need to be an almost father figure like person in Glenn, Amy, and i's lives. "Jesus, Glenn, what were you thinking?" Dale kind of shouts. Glenn lets out a sigh as he opens and shuts his mouth "I was thinking...that I might be dead tomorrow." Glenn says. well, that was..grim. I never thought that Glenn thought like that. he was pretty positive most of the time, at least with me especially when I was thinking like that. now I can't help but wonder if he was thinking the same thing when he was comforting me when I thought like that, was he needing the same comfort he was giving me all this time. I reach over and squeeze his hand affectionately, an 'I feel ya' type of gesture.

the angry expression on Dale's face drops as Glenn stands up and walks out muttering "thanks for the book." Dale tries to stop him and explain why he's mad, but Glenn just keeps going, "you're right, it sucks." I follow after Glenn mumbling a quiet goodbye to dale as I do so. Glenn walks off with his hat in his hand. "Glenn!" I shout after him. I grab his wrist, and he turns around. I wrap my arms around him hugging him tightly. I'm not good at the whole comforting thing but I know a hug almost always makes most people feel better especially from someone they love. he melts into my grip as he rests his head on my shoulder. "Walker! walker!" I quickly let go of Glenn and turn around.

there's a stumbling figure coming closer and closer towards the farm. "Just the one?" rick asks as he walks towards the rv. as the figure gets closer, I recognize the build, the clothing, the crossbow in his hand. its Daryl. he couldn't have been bitten; he couldn't have been. he can't, no he can't. I don't know why but I run towards him. even with everyone behind me telling me to come back. as I get closer, I'm definitely sure its Daryl. I've blocked out the people shouting at me. he can't be bitten, no he can't. he's just hurt I convince myself. once I'm close enough I see a necklace around his neck made out of ears that's what makes me stop. my chest heaves maybe from the fear of the man in front of me, or because I've ran so far in so little time. I'm scared of him again. just like at the beginning.

he's all dirty, with cuts and bruises on his skin, blood seeping out of his shirt, the ear necklace around his neck, it all scares me. he genuinely looks like a walker, and I can't help but just guess why there's blood seeping through his shirt. I can't help the tears forming in my eyes, I've lost him too, and I just... not again. I can't do this again. I hear footsteps behind me before two arms are wrapped around me pulling me away. "Stop, stop, stop it its Daryl" I cry out as I watch rick point his gun at Daryl. I struggle against who I'm guessing is Glenn. "Let go" I cry "that's the third time you've pointed that thing at my head!" Daryl stumbles closer "you gonna pull the trigger or what?" him talking verifies to us that he's alive but what the hell happened to him, and where the fuck is the horse. rick lowers his gun. I'm still struggling against Glenn. "Let go Glenn please" I plead.

pow.

Daryl falls back. I finally get lose and run towards my boyfriend's limp body. "NO!!" shouts rick "NO! NO!" I fall to my knees next to him. he's fine. I let out a relieved sigh the bullet barely even grazed him. the others also run towards Daryl; I'm pushed to the side as they help him up. "I was kidding" Daryl groans out. rick and Shane help Daryl put his arms around both of them. Dale and Andrea are running towards us.

"OH MY GOD! OH MY GOD IS HE DEAD?" Andrea cries out.

I hold Daryl's crossbow as were walking back towards the farm. I've still got tears running down my check, it's hard to stop them once they start. "Unconscious. you just grazed him." rick says. Glenn points towards Daryl "but look at him. what the hell happened?" he's all bloody and dirty, bruises and cuts litter his body. what happened. "Look he's wearing ears." he's got ears wrapped around his goddamn neck, has he gone crazy? especially with that shit he said to rick, the last time I've seen him be aggressive towards rick was when merle was left in Atlanta. after that they formed a kind of alliance. rick pull the ears off of Daryl's neck "let's keep that to ourselves" he hisses. "Guys isn't this Sophia's?" we turn to see t-dog holding Sophia's doll. I didn't even notice he had that on him. we take Daryl back to the farm and Hershel fixes up Daryl. we don't even utter a word about the ears to anybody else.

-

I don't know why but I'm mad at him. I'm mad at him for not bringing me, I'm mad at myself for not going, for not pushing for it more than I did. if I went, I could've helped him. this could've been avoidable. I'm selfish for being mad but I just can't help it. I don't want to lose him too, but I feel like I almost did today. he scared the shit out of me, I thought he was dead, I really thought I lost him, and seeing him all bloodied up and stumbling like a walker it was traumatizing. I really thought he was dead for a second. 

I'm sat on the porch my face buried in my hands, tears slowly falling down my cheeks. I don't know why I'm crying he here, alive but I'm still upset. I hear the wood creak, so I look up. Glenns now sat next to me, a pitiful look on his face. I wipe my tears and sniffle as he wraps his arms around me. I cry into his shoulder as I hold onto him for dear life. "I tho-thought he was dead" I whispered. he doesn't answer just continues to rub my back softly. "Glenn?" I whisper as I pull away from him. he hums in response "do yo-you think I'm selfish for being mad?" I wipe my wet cheeks. he looks into my eyes, and I know he doesn't know what to say so just lean back into him resting my head against his chest. he wraps his arms around me keeping me close. his heart beats softly against his chest. I try breathing at the same rate his heart is going at, and it calms me down. the door creaks open behind me which makes me pull away from Glenn fast like it was a sin to hug my best friend. "Is he alright?" I ask as I look up at Dale who had just walked out the door. "he's fine, he wants to see you" I shake my head. I don't want to see him right now. "I don't want to right now." I whisper. Dale nods as he takes a seat next to me. "I feel like it's my fault" I whisper. I don't know why I do; it has nothing to do with me. if I went out there with him it could've happened too, but I just feel like if I went with him, he'd be fine right now. "it's not, you know that" I let out a shaky sigh. I know that's the truth, deep down I do know that, but my guilt just won't let myself believe it. 

-

I don't eat dinner. I sit in my tent my knees pressed against my chest, and my arms wrapped around my knees as everyone else ate inside. I want to go inside, go see Daryl but I also don't. I hate the man I saw out there today with those ears around his neck, the things he was saying it's like he went out there and saw something that made him hate rick. I hate him but I...I love him too. I love him I think...

my tent unzips and I see Glenn with a plate of food. "I brought you some food...do you want me to stay with you tonight?" he asks. I shake my head, and Glenn leaves the food and takes off. the food stays uneaten at the end of my sleeping bag.

I hate that man....but..but I also love him.

Previous >> next

Taglist

@e1d0lonk3k @soul4death @furiousheartpoetry @silicone-bonez @nezukos-number1fan @your-shifting-gurl @maziejay08 @oi-itse

[thelittlestspider]

an excerpt from Friend You Can Keep that i wrote in one sitting wherein peter and ash are in their honeymoon phase, and matt extorts johnny in exchange for staying at his place.

“Johnny, I'm not kicking you out, but you have to crash somewhere else for a few days,” said Peter, matter of fact.

“Why?” asked Johnny, eyes narrowed suspiciously.

“Because if you don't, you won't get any sleep.”

Johnny blinked. Wait a minute. His eyes widened in understanding.

“So you and Ash?”

Peter smiled. “Yeah.”

His eyes were soft and his smile was dopey. Love looked good on him. Johnny was happy for him, even if his heart panged that he wasn't part of it.

“Y'know, if you guys ever need a third…” Johnny waggled his brows. He half-meant it as a joke, but to his surprise, Peter said, “We'd be happy to have you. But I kind of want him to myself for a while.”

“So you're not mad about me and Ash?” Johnny asked cautiously, afraid to upset this moment of gracious maturity from Peter. But like, he had to know everything was cool before he made any moves here. After all, what if Peter woke up tomorrow deciding to be a jealous maniac again? Though that angry stare was pretty sexy…

Peter looked thoughtful. “We talked about it some the other day.” He swished his coffee around. “Ash loves you, I love you.” Johnny's eyes went big with shock.

“You love me?”

“Yeah. I do.”

Tears welled up in Johnny's eyes as he stood up to kiss Peter, laughing with happiness as he wrapped his arms around his best friend. It was a terrible kiss. Mostly because they couldn't stop smiling. But Johnny wouldn't trade it for the world.

“I love you too,” Johnny said against Peter's cheek. “So, so much it's insane. God, I thought I'd never have this.”

“There's some stuff we need to talk about,” interrupted Peter. Uh oh. Johnny frowned. He didn't like the sound of that. That could mean literally anything.

“Like what?”

Play it cool, Johnny.

“Matt,” Peter said simply.

Johnny groaned, rolling his eyes heavenward.

“Oh my God, don't talk to me about Matt. The man's impossible!” Ugh, the nerve of that man, ruining yet another fine moment in Johnny's life. If the guy wasn't so damn miserable right now, Johnny'd curse him.

Why did everything have to come back to Matt? What did Peter see in him? Sure he was older and kind of sexy, and he had the whole Daredevil lawyer thing working for him, but he was also an asshole who wore grandpa sweaters and messed with Johnny every chance he got. It was like being picked on by an 80 year old grandpa in the body of a 38 year old acrobat.

Johnny could light himself on fire, but he was convinced Matt was actually made of hellfire.

“Uuuugh,” groaned Johnny.

“He's not that bad,” argued Peter.

Peter was blinded by love. He didn't know what he was talking about.

“He's insufferable.”

“You're also insufferable,” pointed out Peter, unhelpfully. Johnny glared at him. Peter stared back at him, unmoved. He sipped his coffee.

One, two, three.

“I guess,” Johnny ground out, “I can get along with Matt. For your sake.” Compromise sucked. Compromise was the enemy of the people.

“Good, because your options are your family, Matt, or Clint.”

Johnny's mouth dropped.

“You wouldn't.”

Peter smirked behind his mug.

“I would.”

Evil, sexy bastard. God, Johnny wanted to kill him. Maybe he could get Ash to run interference.

“Ash can't help you out of this.”

Damn it.

Johnny weighed his options. He could go stay with his family for a few days while Peter and Ash went through their honeymoon phase; con, he'd have zero privacy. Option 2: Clint. Natasha was on a job right now, so Clint might be lonely and appreciate the company. Con: Lucky and Liho wouldn't let him sleep.

Wade was out because of Valentine and Vanessa. Shit. Johnny scrunched his face. He was going to have to suck it up and call Matt.

“I take it back. I hate you.”

“Love you,” Peter said, sweetly.

Fuck his stupid life.

…

“Hey Matt,” started Johnny, already feeling awkward about this.

“Hi Johnny,” answered Matt. His voice was smooth and cool like water. Unbothered. Like Johnny calling was something that happened every day and they hadn't been mortal enemies for the past ten years. He was so weird. Johnny hated him.

“So I have a favor to ask,” Johnny inhaled through his nose, bracing himself. “I need to stay at your place for a few days.”

There was perfect silence on the other end. Matt was surprised. Then after a few moments Matt's stupid, smug voice asked, “What's in it for me?”

“Whadda mean, what's in it for you?” Johnny asked, feeling annoyance wash through him. “You want me to clean for you or something?” He didn't think Matt would be enthusiastic about it, but he didn't think Matt would be this much of an asshole about it either.

“You could help Foggy balance the books.”

“But that could take forever!”

“Take it or leave it.”

Ugh.

“Fine.”

“Then you've got a deal.”

“I hate you. Tell Foggy and Kirsten hi for me.”

That stung Matt a bit. He didn't answer. The dial tone sounded.

Wow, he hung up on him. Johnny didn't know what he expected.

[mangoposts]

I follow all three on Instagram now & Matt and I really do have the same style especially when he does his grandpa sweaters. That’s my kind of guy 🥵

-step mama

LMFAOOOOOO I LOVE IT

[bighairmonkey]

As you don that ugly sweater or elf outfit for the office or social Christmas festivities, just remember that if the zombie apocalypse hits, you’ll be wearing it forever...

[starmurdock]

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: gender neutral!reader + matt murdock

𝐜𝐰: mentions of menstruation, fluff

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: here’s another self indulged matt drabble <333

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

as you stir out of sleep, sounds of someone shuffling in the next room fill your ears. the curtains over matt’s bedroom windows block most of the light trying to make it’s way inside, but it’s enough to pull you from your sleepy daze. turning onto your back, you keep the thick blanket wrapped tightly around your frame, blocking any sort of draft from hitting your warm skin. your head turns to the door at the sound of matt entering his bedroom, and he’s already dressed for work. his hands are holding a glass of water and some medicine, causing a small smile to form on your face.

“morning, hunny,” matt says sweetly as he kneels beside you and kisses your forehead, gently placing the glass and pill down on the nightstand, and smoothing the top of your hair. “how’d you sleep?”

you could’ve gotten better rest if it wasn’t for your period coming down the previous evening, but nonetheless, it wasn’t too bad. “fine, i guess. just a little uncomfortable,” you reply as you turn onto your side, completely facing matt. your hand caresses his cheek as you look at every detail of his face, trying to memorize each crevice as you know he needs to leave for work soon.

“i figured you wouldn’t feel too well, ‘s why i brought you this,” he says as he gestures toward the nightstand. “take it whenever you need. i would love to stay here with you but i really have to be in the office today.” he leans forward and kisses you sweetly, apologizing wordlessly on your lips. your hand makes it’s way to the back of his neck and pulls him deeper against you.

after pulling back you whisper against his lips, “it’s okay, matty. just don’t forget to call me,” and give him another short kiss.

“i would never forget, love.”

he gives your forehead one last kiss before standing up and pulling away from your side. you watch him as he grabs his cane from the wall and exits the bedroom. you hear him shuffling around some more, but before he makes his way out of the apartment, he quickly pops back into the bedroom, instantly confusing you.

“oh, here’s one more thing,” he says hurriedly, walking to your side of the bed. in his arms is your favorite grandpa sweater that you love to steal from his closet. “i put my scent on it so you can wear it when your cramps become too painful.”

overwhelming emotions bubble up inside of you, tears already making their way to your eyes this early in the morning. “thank you, baby. i love you,” you say softly, taking the sweater from his arms and tugging on his hand to give him another quick kiss.

matt chuckles, “okay okay i really need to get going. i love you, sweetheart.” and with that, matt finally exits his apartment and starts his journey to the office of nelson and murdock, and you feel nothing but pure love and admiration as you stare at the soft, dark green sweater.

-

[matt-erialgirl]

matt owning a bunch of soft grandpa sweaters

that’s it, that’s my thought

oh my goshhhh you know he does!!

all sorts of colours and patterns ♥️ He also would have a special one or two for every holiday; an ygly Christmas one, an orange one for Halloween. And he’d start buying you some too so you can wear them with him and you hate them but love them because Matt does 🥺 and he’d smile this big silly smile when you put one on and go “I’m in love”

soft Matt gives me life

[anotheronechicagobog]

Fire Meets Fate - Brettsey - Chapter 1 - Violet Opens Her Big Mouth

warnings: swearing, mature themes, character death (Andy Darden), canon compliant tragedy

Summary: Violet Casey, Matt's favourite (and only) niece points out what Matt had been so blind to; Gabby Dawson has the hots for him. While he is engaged. While Matt is most definitely... Shocked at this news, he is in no way pleased. As a result, they never get together.

“I don’t like Gabby.”

“What? Why not, you’re always talking about how much you like her food.”

“Yeah, her food’s amazing- she isn’t.”

“Violet, why would you think that?”

“And that is why I’m bringing it up, you, uncle lieutenant, are oblivious. Gabby has the hots for you.”

“She does not.”

“Yes, she does! Ask anyone, ask uncle Kelly, ask Hallie, ask Gabby.”

“We’re friends and friends alone, Gabby does not love me.”

“I didn’t say ‘love’, I said that she has the hots for you, which is totally different. If she loved you she wouldn’t flirt with you every chance she got, including whenever you and Hallie are on a break.”

“She doesn’t-”

“Flirt with you? Yes, she does. She also makes puppy dog eyes at you and bites her lip whenever you’re not looking. Look, I’m not telling you that she’s not nice, or that you shouldn’t be friends with her, it’s just that I’ve noticed she likes you more than she should, and that sometimes her ‘friendship’ has an ulterior motive.”

“Violet-”

“Just keep it in mind, okay uncle Matt?”

And he did.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You know how when you start learning to drive, and all the bad driving habits people had, like rolling stops, were pointed out to you? And how once the blinders were ripped off, you couldn’t unsee anything? Well finding out Gabby ‘has the hots’ for him had the same effect. Suddenly he couldn’t hold eye contact with her because he saw longing and lust beneath them, he heard the lengthy pauses and felt the weight of her gaze when anyone asked her about her love life, and whenever she spoke to him he noticed hidden and double meanings in her words. Honestly, it made him a little uncomfortable. And his niece was right, he was completely oblivious! So. Damn. Oblivious. But at first he thought that he was just seeing things, I mean, Violet was fourteen what did she know about non-platonic relationships. Wait... What did she know about non-platonic relationships?! She’s only fourteen! Casey’s horror-filled internal realizations were interrupted by Severide. The man who was once one of his best friends now seemed more like a mortal enemy. Picking fights. Doubting his decision. Second-guessing his judgment. Snide comments. Matt had truly forgotten just how sharp Kelly’s tongue was until they weren’t on the same side anymore. “What did you and Heather talk about at the barbeque?”

“Just about Andy and Griffin. Whenever someone asks, she says they’re holding up as well as can be expected, but I think there’s more going on that she’s not seeing yet because she’s still grieving too.”

“Well, maybe if Heather actually brought the boys around here, or me. There wouldn’t be an issue.”

“Okay, you know what? I’m done. I have tried to talk to Heather about bringing the boys here, about letting them see you, you think I haven’t? But she’s hurting and she blames you. I’ve tried talking her down, and I know that Andy’s death isn’t either of our faults, but I can’t control someone else’s emotions. So stop baring your teeth at me over it. I have tried, and failed, and I am tired, okay? I lost my two best friends in one day! And one of them is actually here, and alive, and safe but growls at me every time I walk near him!”

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

In a blue tank top, jeans, and wedges, Gabby approached Matt in the locker room. “My brother called me...” Of course he did. If Matt had felt like he had any other trustworthy officers to turn to, he wouldn’t have asked Gabby to contact her brother. Nothing stays secret between those two. And this was something that only added to the feeling of centipedes marching up and down his spine. He didn’t want her to know about his private life before he did, he didn’t want her in the loop. He normally had no issue with criticism so long as it was based in merit and not bias. And lately he couldn’t help but feel that Violet was right about Gabby and ulterior motives.

“... You holding up alright?”

“Yeah, yeah. Good.” With a quick nod to her, he left. No long looks, no asking her what she would have done, no ‘honest answers’, no soulful eyes or parted lips, he didn’t want anymore personal, intimate, talks between them anymore. She may just be a friend to him, but he wasn’t just a friend to her, and he didn’t know how to handle that situation just yet. 

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Matt walked towards the kitchen, ready to get some breakfast and coffee after all the paperwork he had to do before eight in the morning. He winced internally when he saw Gabby crossing the room with arms full of Halloween candy packages. Even just looking at her now set him on edge. He didn’t have confirmation about Violet was right, but as time went on, her actions and her words and her body language, both past and present, were glaring confirmations. He did his best to blend into the background, fade into the noise of the firehouse, and it worked. Mills was getting more and more frustrated that they only had salt and pepper for spices, but then Gabby, still on the counter from putting the candy up high, laid her hand on his shoulder, and told him where she kept the spices she uses when she cooks. “... I used up the rest of the saffron the last time I cooked.” While Gabby didn’t look back at Mills as she walked away, burning a hole inside of Matt’s head instead, the candidate’s eyes followed her form as she walked away, amazement on playing on his features. Matt smiled, maybe her love of cooking would bring her and Mills together.

And then the bells went off.

Once on the scene, Casey was brought back to a phone call he had early in the morning with Luke Hermann.

FLASHBACK

“Hello?”

“Uncle Matt, it’s Luke.”

“Hey, Luke, is everything alright?”

“No. I mean yeah, at home, I mean dad did walk in on grandpa in the bathroom again, but things here are good, but no...”

“Luke what’s going on? Talk to me.”

“I don’t want my dad to die.”

“Oh, Luke... Hey, bud, it’s okay, don’t cry.”

“But he almost died, and so did you! When uncle Andy died it seemed so far away, like it couldn’t happen to my dad, but then...”

“Hey, I know. Everyone at the firehouse, we love your dad. And you. We’re all looking out for him and watching his back, okay? We always do everything we can to make sure he goes home to you.”

“But that’s not enough sometimes, is it?”

“Luke, your dad loves you more than anything, he will always do whatever it takes to make it through a shift and back home to the people he loves more than anything else in the world. And his in-laws.” The uncontrollable sounds coming from the boy had changed from crying to laughing, and Matt couldn’t help but crack a smile amongst his own misty eyes. Hermann really didn’t get along with his in-laws, did he?

FLASHBACK OVER

The call ended up being a small kitchen fire, minimal damage, no one was injured, but Casey remained in a sour mood. He couldn’t promise the safety of his colleagues in their line of work, and that was pissing him off more than usual today.

“Alright, everyone, today our own Jose Vargas transfers over from truck to squad.”

Casey and Severide were at odds, but that didn’t mean the rest of the house had to be, and it really was a tragedy that tensions spilled over quite a bit. So Matt made sure that he looked as genuine as he felt while shaking his brother in arms’ hand, “best of luck.”

“Thanks, lieutenant.” He still felt a bit like he was losing one to the enemy, so he retreated to his office. Which turned out to be a pretty bad move, considering all he could do was think about Voight. If he was being honest, Matt was afraid of what he’d gotten himself into. He knew it was the right thing, he just wondered if he’d make it out the other side unscathed. His mind kept wandering to those action movies about stopping dirty cops. Kidnapping, torture, death. He couldn’t help but wonder if that was Voight’s style.

“Hey.” And then suddenly Hallie was there, in a red sweater and black leggings. “Hey yourself, what are you doing here?”

“I just thought I’d come by for a visit, are you okay? You’ve been drifting off a lot lately.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. Don’t worry.”

“Well, I have to admit, there’s another reason I stopped by. To see if you were up for something that we talked about but never got around to doing?” Playfully lust eyes met his as she shut the blinds on his door. And like magic, Matt’s day got a whole lot better.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Closed doors didn’t always have connotations, but in the firehouse they did. Everything was based on context, sometimes it meant that whoever was on the other side was sleeping in their office. Sometimes it was paperwork, or alone time, or some not-so-alone time with a special someone. Or like now, where the chief ushered in a police captain, detective, and then requested his presence. Everyone was well aware by now of his debacle with Voight, so they stayed clear. Casey was seething. The ‘captain’ basically came all this way to tell them that IA was conducting a BS investigation and that despite the fact that he was Voight’s superior, he couldn’t do anything. And then Antonio spoke up. Volunteered. Matt looked him in the eye, and while he could tell the man was honourable and that he’d do everything he could, Matt couldn’t help but wonder if it had anything to do with Gabby.

“Thank you, detective Dawson.”

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Guys who assaulted you have a record. Guaranteed.” Matt was sore, but not sore enough to miss a shift, and certainly not sore enough to look at binders filled with the photos of known offenders with Antonio. Gabby entered to grab her stuff just as Matt got past the first page. Until  Matt’s rang with Hallie checking in he used that as an excuse to pretend she wasn’t even in the room. “Hey, just looking at photographs, tattoos.” 

“You never know.” Hallie was being the optimist for once, and Matt couldn’t be more grateful for it.

“That’s right.”

“I love you.” 

“I love you too.” Even before he responded to Hallie Matt could practically feel Gabby’s sadness. It was palpable. He could actually feel the realization shift in Antonio Dawson. So when Matt hung up the phone, he didn’t look at either of them. He pretended that he didn’t see their facial expressions out of the corner of his eye, that he didn’t sense the longing in Gabby’s delayed departure from the briefing room, that he didn’t feel the weight in Antonio start to shift as he leaned on the table to watch Matt look through the binder. And then the bells went off.

[weeklyfangirl]

Frat Boy Pt. 22

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7 (1), part 7 (2), part 8, part 9, part 10, part 11, part 12, part 13 , part 14, part 15, part 16, part 17, part 18, part 19 , part 20, part 21

Hope everyone is keeping themselves mentally/physically well... here’s the next update in your adventure. Please safely read from home ;) 

The sun moved slowly up my window, illuminating the dancing dust in the air. Even though I knew dust didn’t have feelings, it all still looked very peaceful, suspended there in space. 

 I wanted to be suspended, floating, with no obligations or pressures. 

 Instead, I watched time slip by, slowly, as the shadows stretched along my floor and I lay still, wrapped in a giant Winnie-the-Pooh sheets burrito. 

I called in sick the past three days to work and to all my classes, my lack of attendance probably dropping me a letter grade in a few classes. Instead of checking on my academic scholarship, I begged Renny to drop off Dr. Rhinecuff’s papers for me. She did, lamenting about how his office smelled like roast beef and how she probably needed a nose job from it shrivelling up from the stench. Tired, I sent her three hearts, ignoring all of her calls and voicemails. 

 In a random bout of restless energy, I looked up the University of Oxford in England. No one would know me there. And maybe that wasn’t a bad thing when you didn’t even know yourself. I stayed on their site for an hour, avoiding my take-home assignments, and speculating which classes I could take in the spring semester. My eyes grew tired though, and even if I were accepted as a transfer student, it wasn’t like I could ever afford it without scholarships. 

 I closed the computer. 

 It’d been cloudy, rainy. The random storm that’d come in from Mexico lasted longer than the usual morning fog that’d roll in and out by the time it was 9 AM. This storm lingered, heavy, full clouds looking to burst and unleash a steady rain for three to four hours before the clouds rested, storing up all they could until the next downpour. 

 My parents didn’t question me when I came in, used to my random visits. But when I went straight to my room without saying hello, rain-plastered hair covering puffy eyes, my mom basically collapsed at the sight. 

 She followed me to the bed, trying to see my face, but I buried it in the pillow, ignoring the way the purple fringe tickled my nose. 

 “What’s wrong sweetheart?” 

 I just groaned. Her voice was too gentle, too well-intending for the dark thoughts sitting in my mind. She’d be heartbroken if she heard them. 

 She huffed, not out of annoyance, but distress. “What’s bothering you?? Is it Renny? Did you breakup with Harry?” All those reasons were too simple. She ran her hands lightly along my legs, but I cringed away from her touch. It was something I rarely did. She paused. “You can tell me anything...” 

 I shook my head against the pillow, my last attempt to tell her to leave without speaking. She waited a moment longer. 

 “Okay,” she said. And that was it. 

 Father didn’t ask questions, not even when I was here for the third consecutive day. Mom had probably come to her own conclusions, and shared them with him. 

 “Mom said you aren’t feeling too well,” he said over cereal one morning, confirming my suspicions. It was the first time he’d broken our three-day spree of comfortable silence. 

 “What else did she tell you?” 

 He shrugged his shoulders, his usual buoyant self replaced with a quiet voice. He looked at me, and all I saw was pity. If I were him, I’d probably look at me the same way. I hadn’t showered in a while. “Well don’t let anything get you down. You’re too smart for that.”

 He’d tried. He’d put in an effort. I just nodded, scooping up another spoonful of cereal. He followed suit. 

 And that was that.  

 A week passed like this. 

 But overnight, the clouds had blown away, and the sun came back full-force this morning just in time for the weekend, renewing my guilt. That traitor. 

 I’d cried all of Monday and Tuesday, but when the last tear was shed in the middle of a New Girl episode, I was empty. My tears didn’t leave anything to replace them with. 

 On Wednesday, a phone alarm reminded me I had a therapy appointment. I hit snooze multiple times. It was only when I got up to pee, and I hated what I saw in the mirror that I threw on an oversized sweater to go over my pajamas and headed out the door. 

 “Is it good?” I asked. 

 Her hands reviewed my wants list.  

 “That’s just a coffee stain on the corner..just...ignore that bit,” I added. 

 She surveyed it briefly, not really focusing on it. “Were you honest?”

 I nodded.

 “Then there isn’t good or bad. It’s just your truth.”

 “But I still feel… I don’t know. I don’t think I know what that is. I don’t feel like I’m… progressing. Doing anything towards that,” I said. 

 She looked at me with a level gaze. “Then that’s your truth. And that’s okay for right now.”

 I shot her a glance.

 “I see a common struggle with people your age. They feel this….” -She adjusted, quirking her head- ��immense pressure to be perfect, to figure it all out, to achieve success so early.” 

 “Everyone’s doing it,” I began. “They’re getting internships, keeping up their grades, involved in ten clubs, doing community service…” I could’ve droned on, but didn’t. 

 “You have an internship, your grades are good, you’ve joined a sorority, and up until recently you’ve been involved in tutoring. Those are extracurriculars.” 

 I couldn’t argue with her. 

 “Is it too much?” she asked.

 Too much. It was everything I’d been feeling until I’d felt nothing. But hearing her list off what was waiting for me just beyond her doors made me feel the weight of it all over again. 

 “I’ve just been overwhelmed.” 

 “Who have you been thinking about?” 

 She noticed I started picking my hangnail. 

 She started gently, knowingly. “Has it been Harry?” 

 “Ow,” I cursed. A bit of blood prickled up where the hangnail used to be. 

 “He seems to be a major stressor in your life. Would you agree?” The clock ticked behind her, filling the silence. Her hands rested in her lap, while mine swiped away the bit of blood. I could never remember my therapist’s name, but somehow it wasn’t important. 

 “Yeah, but … I mean …. there’s a lot of stressors.”

 “Like his friends?”

 His friends, in the abbreviated story I’d told her, stood in place for the gang. I’d used terms like … intimidating, mean, basically painting them as bullies who didn’t like us together. I wasn’t expecting to get much therapy from a lie. “Out of curiosity, if I were to tell you something… would you be obligated to report it to the police?” 

 “Not necessarily.” Her legs crossed, creased brows zeroing in with a laser focus. “Has something happened to you, Y/N?”

 I swallowed hard, the truth lodged in my throat. But I had gotten too used to the weight of the secret. “I was just curious…” My mind raced to change the subject, and I blurted about Zayn’s art show. 

 “Do you think this panic attack was induced by this heightened sense of scrutiny from Harry’s friends?” 

 “Probably.” 

 “You said there were others. What are your main stressors?’ 

 I settled in, more comfortable with this question. “There’s financial stressors, for one. And it’s exasperated here.” 

 “You’ve been dealing with financial difficulties for a while, now. Have you been feeling this anxious the entire time, or has it been recent?” 

 My foot tapped impatiently. We both knew the answer.

 “Your panic attack was a first,” she explained, gently. “Some new factor in your life pushed you there.” 

 I picked at the hangnail, wincing. It was gone. My skin was raw. 

 “Maybe it all links back to Harry.” She waited a moment to see if I’d speak. When I didn’t, she leant back, and pulled out a new sheet of paper, scribbling something down. “I want you to write a pros and cons list about your relationship with him, for next time. When your feelings are overwhelming, it helps to get everything on paper. In a list. Puts things in perspective.” 

 I drove home, her words had pushed themselves into my empty shell and now they clinked around, jostling up my insides like a pinball machine and giving me a headache. 

 Just because I hadn’t left the house all week didn’t mean I didn’t feel guilty for ditching work. God, I did. It killed me. I knew I was lucky to get that internship. Harry had mentioned how people killed just to get on the waitlist, and I didn’t doubt it. An OC internship with, if not the top, at least the most publicized private practice? I mean, I was typing in appointments next to a Southern Stanford grad if that speaks to the competition here. 

 And here I was, retreating back to my house, too drained to face the world. 

 As for Harry, after what I’d said to him, I wouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t want to talk to me ever again. 

 I’d been so cruel. 

 I was weak.  

 I felt guilty for feeling this way at all. 

 And then I would watch the dust again.

 It was a cycle. 

 About three blocks from my house on my way back from the therapist session, a familiar car passed me. It happened suddenly, unexpectedly, like most things do. We made eye contact before he passed, and my foot instantly lifted off the gas when my eyes connected with my brain. I whipped my head around but the matte black maserati sped up, disappearing from sight. 

 What was Harry doing this far from campus? 

 My heart beat erratically as I pulled into the driveway, and it was only seconds before I made it into the house. Father held up a hand in Grandpa’s old room. Phone call. Trudging silently to my own, I wrapped myself in a blanket burrito. 

 I’d been avoiding my phone, but I caved this time, checking J’s social media to see if he’d posted anything about being in the area to prove I WASN’T crazy and DIDN’T just hallucinate. Nothing. I tossed my phone on the other side of the room before I spiralled.  

 It didn’t matter. I was in my room. Alone. Safe. I focused on the dust. 

 Two little knocks disrupted my exciting mind game - which dust particle would fall further than the other. 

 “You’re turning ripe,” Father noted. His briefcase was still in his hand and he was coming startlingly close to my depression burrito. 

 “What are you doing-!?” I protested. But it was too late. He ripped the sheets off, exposing me in the t-shirt I’d been in since Monday. “Your mood won’t change if you don’t make an effort.

Come on.”

 “Where are we going?”

 “You’re coming to the water with me.” He hesitated at the door. “Shower first.” 

 In the car, a sense of comfort washed over me. He’d been right. Clean wet hair smelled nice and felt good slicked around my head. Even if Mom would complain I’d “catch cold,” it felt good to feel something. Dad’s speakers switched between classic rock and reggaeton as I sipped on the chocolate shake we picked up from the Shake Shack. It was a short drive away to the harbor, and once parked, a shorter walk to the public docks. 

 Our feet dangled above the water. It was too cold to go swimming this time of year, but my body buzzed with yearning despite the goosebumps on my skin. I wanted to feel encompassed by salty water. I wanted to be submerged, where everything was muted, a barrier between me and the world. Between my wet hair and the icy shake, I could pretend my body was as cool as the water below me. I could just…. dissolve. 

 “So what’s going on?” he opened up the conversation. “You having a hard time at school?” 

 “I don’t like the sorority.” 

 His brows raised, not expecting me to be so honest so soon. He cleared his throat. “Yeah, don’t you hate that shit?” 

 I looked at him, almost shocked he’d agreed with me. 

 The boats squeaked as they rocked with the rolling tides coming in from the ocean. I watched as a duffy boat wandered to the end of the jetty - where the harbor opened to the ocean. I took another big gulp of my shake, feeling the cold run down, freezing my esophagus. 

 “I liked frats, but sororities are different,” he mumbled, spooning his shake into his mouth. He’d gotten his usual Neapolitan, and it’d somehow stayed solid on the drive over. We hadn’t been to the Shake Shack in years, but I guess seeing his daughter waste away beneath her comforter was enough to break the dry spell. 

 “Why? Because its girls?” My lips were breaking into a smile without my consent. He didn’t make sense. 

 “They’re more catty.” He shrugged his shoulders. 

 “Dad! That’s verging on sexist.” 

 “Eh, I don’t know. I’m just saying things. Did you tell Mom you want to quit?” 

 I shook my head. 

 “Yeah…” he looked out at the boats, a quiet understanding passing between us. “She was really excited for you to join.” 

 “It’s not all bad…” 

 “Well if it’s not making you happy, don’t do it. Your mom doesn’t want you doing anything you don’t want to do. I was in a frat to shoot the shit with friends and it was something fun to do instead of study. If it’s not something fun for you, drop it.” 

 I could hear the words he was telling me, but it was like they were rolling off my shoulders, not really penetrating. He made it sound so easy, but it seemed like it was a million times harder than that. Everything was entangled, just as Harry had said. Not to mention Renny. If I quit, I felt like I’d lose her forever, too. I knew I could use a better friend, but that couldn’t erase the years of memories we had together. Losing Renny would feel like losing a part of myself. Not that I knew who that was anymore. 

 “Dad?” I asked. The question that'd weighed on my mind ever since I got home rested on the tip of my tongue. 

 “Yeah?” 

 “This is going to sound weird, but did you see Harry today?” 

 “Yeah. He stopped by,” he said, casually, spooning another mouthful. 

 I practically choked. “What? Why?! Weren’t you going to tell me?” 

 “Y/N, I’m working. I have a thousand things bouncing around in my head all the time.”

 “And?!!?”

 Harry couldn’t reach out to me beforehand? He drove by but- what? Didn’t even want to see me? 

 He sighed, not understanding the urgency. “He just stopped by, said hi. That’s all.” 

 My brows stitched. “Why would he say hi to you? What’d he say, exactly?” 

 “Oh, come on, I don’t know. I can’t remember-”

 “Dad!” 

 “All right, all right. Hi, how are you…” -his brain tried to remember- “he asked if you were doing okay. Then he left. He was nearby for a family brunch or something.” 

 “He asked about me?” 

 “Yeah. I mean, he didn’t go on and on, he just asked a question. He was in a rush.” 

 The shake froze me from the inside, and the breeze froze me from the out. But while I shriveled into myself, my guilt grew. “Dad?” 

 He hummed. 

 “Why are people so fake?” 

 He looked out at the harbor, peaceful for a winter’s morning. Only one small fishing boat headed towards the harbor’s edge, the sole fisherman at the helm facing the wind with the grace of a husband dealing with a temperamental spouse. 

 Father looked to our shoes as a random swell came, the water rising perilously close to our soles. Then, with all the untapped wisdom I seldom remembered parents had, “People are fake because they don’t know who they are,” he said.

 He got a call from the restaurant and drove us home. 

 In bed the next day, I ignored the pros/cons assignment, watching New Girl and making collages of Oxford in a word document until my eyes were burning from blue light exposure. I knew I was pushing it staying this long away from school, away from my problems. I was pushing myself, seeing how far my apathy could go. I woke up Thursday night at 2 AM from the rain pouring against my shutter and anger pricking my insides. 

 Harry was the reason I was in this position. As well as Viv, who fucked Harry. And Kiki, who gave me a DG Pretty Please, that just so happened to involve Harry. 

 I wanted him, but I wanted him to fuck off. Nothing was changing. Nothing was getting better. 

 It was all Harry, Harry, Harry, and no matter what, I ended up feeling insane.  

 At one point, I was going to have to choose myself. 

 I rolled over, blindly reaching for a pen, and scribbled in the dark. 

 If my therapist wanted a list, she’d get one helluva list. 

 -----------

“I’m glad you’re going, honey.” Mom released me from the lung-crushing hug. 

 I’d created enough Oxford collages and daydreamed about a new life until I couldn’t think of any other imaginary scenarios (or postpone collegiate life any longer). 

 The Friday sun had set. The game had already started. I thought about the crowd, all the people I’d see… 

 “Can I just stay the weekend?” 

 “Oh.” Her arms dropped from my sides. “Didn’t you promise your friends that you’d go?” 

 Renny. I’d promised Renny. Singular friend. My hand was in a fist, thumb rubbing anxiously over my fingers. I didn’t listen to her voicemails, there were seven of them. But she’d texted me fifty times in the past twenty minutes, declaring that she’d Venmo me gas money if I’d come to the game. 

 I’d been in my hole long enough. 

 “Yeah, I did.”

 “Well, you COULD stay-”

 I broke away, shaking my head. If I let her coddle me another minute, I think I’d crumble all over again. 

 “I love you,” she reminded me. “You’re my precious angel.” 

 From the living room, the muffled applause from the game show Father had fallen asleep to faded further as I left. 

 Momma’s robe-bundled frame waved on the driveway, her sad smile burning in my mind long after she disappeared from view.

 ------------------------------------------------------------------

 Come on, come on, come ON. 

 The path to the stadium took forever. No shame, I was full-on running, braless, fresh pit-stains on display as I booked it to the gate. 

 It was completely dark now, and the usual fleet of cop cars seemed to have all but disappeared the week I’d been gone. Only one passed me by, and the rest of the student body probably all congregated around the stadium. 

 When I saw the art studio, I slowed. It was completely dark, except for one entry light. The paintings would still be displayed... My pounding heart told me to keep running, and I hesitated, listening to it for a moment before walking to the door. I tugged on its metal handles, parts of me seizing up as it opened, giving way to my touch. 

 I crept into the space, feeling like an intruder as I walked through the exhibit. 

 For some reason, I expected it to look differently, to see it blurred together as I’d seen it before in a panic. 

 I was still hanging amidst the vines, but this time the paintings looked less threatening. Maybe it was the fact that I was alone, maybe it was because I’d already felt the worst of it. 

 Each piece was sold. 

 I looked over my shoulder a couple times before letting out a small shout. A tester. 

 It echoed in the space. 

 I did it again, louder, at my full about-to-be-murdered capacity.

 I must’ve looked absolutely mental, but as I heard my shout reverberate around me, at least I felt something.  

 Five charcoal sketches in particular ran horizontally together. 

 Lust / Longing / Love / Lost / Loss

 Had he seen all of this in me? He’d certainly seen other bits I hadn’t shown him. 

 My phone buzzed, and I pulled it out. Renny. Without thought, I started her stream of voicemails.

 Y/N where the FUCK are you!? Zayn’s concerned and I’m concerned and you’re not in the room-

 Next. 

 Are you really sick? Or is this just some BS excuse. Or is this real and Harry gave you tonsilitis or something. I want to hear your voice. Ilyyyyy. 

 Next. 

 It’s meeeeee. Niall’s busy and you’re sick and I don’t know what to dooooo. Housewives isn’t as fun without-

 Next.

 BABE WHY AREN’T YOU ANSWERING ME CALLS DO YOU HATE ME, AND YES I MEANT TO SAY ME INSTEAD OF MY I HOPE YOU’RE LAUGHING-

 Next.

 DUDE. You will not believe what just happened- Harry just stopped by. 

 My thumb paused, letting it stay. 

 I was avoiding his texts because I think he’s a dick. Well, he IS a dick, even if Niall said he was going through a lot. It’s still not an excuse. But Harry LEGIT found me on campus, like not even when I was with Niall at the house, but at our APARTMENT...I-hold on. Ew, pastrami professor just passed me. What are the odds? OKAY BUT SERIOUSLY, I almost punched him when I opened the door because remember last time he basically told me off. But… I don’t know. It was different this time. He seemed… so concerned. Frazzled. I don’t even know the word to describe it. Ugh, if you were here you would be able to TELL ME what the word is. I miss you. Come back. 

 The voicemail rolled into the next. 

 I’m just pretending to talk on the phone right now because the boy I hooked up with last year is staring me THE FUCK down right now-

 A creak in the pipes startled me, and the voicemail was all but forgotten. 

 My heart beat fast. 

 It was very, very quiet. 

 With one noise in the dark, the art pieces turned menacing. An oil painting in the corner of the room morphed into the Styles’ portrait. It wasn’t here. It couldn’t be here. I squinted, blinking through the dark. The portrait I thought I’d seen was just a painting of two silhouetted men facing each other. My heart still beat like I’d just ran a marathon though. I wasn’t about to be a part of the next horror movie “art comes alive.” 

 I booked it out faster than I came, answering Renny’s call on the way. 

 ---------

“Thank fucking finally,” Renny huffed, leaning over Lynn to draw me in a hug.

 “You didn’t miss much,” Lynn said, looking past me towards the game. I sat on Renny’s other side so she was in the middle, but when I looked at the scoreboard - Home, zero. Guest, two - I knew it was a done deal. Some people had already left, but half the stadium was still here, either hoping for a miraculous recovery or refusing to put their tails between their legs for pride’s sake. I noticed a group of parents in Chapman gear huddled together, waving their flags. No Mary or Lionel Styles in sight. 

 “How’s he been?” I asked. It’s like my head already knew where to turn, because as soon as I looked to the field, I found him. On the bench, elbows on his knees, head bent over.  

 “How’ve YOU been?” Renny asked. “I was seriously about to drive over to your house and check on you.” 

 Someone beat you to it. The thought was sour. For as much as Renny could claim her undying love for me, I was struggling to see the actions to support it. Everyone was disappointing. 

 “He’s been playing like shit,” Lynn answered.  

 “Brought back some...” His sentence died. Of all people, Zayn stood there, stopped, popcorn in hand. “Hey, Y/N.” 

 Felix stood behind Zayn, giving me a small wave. Zayn was clearly waiting for me to make the first move, but I turned away to the field. I didn’t know what to say. 

 From my peripheral, I saw them sit down by Lynn. 

 As soon as he did, it hit me like a flashfood. I knew what I was feeling. Anger. Discomfort. Shame. That he could expose me so easily, that he’d looked through my clothes in a way I never permitted. That he could sit down so comfortably without apologizing, as if nothing had happened. 

 Renny leaned in. “Are you okay?” 

 “No.”

 She flinched at the abrupt answer. “Do you want to leave?” 

 I stopped myself from saying yes. I didn’t want to have to climb over Zayn to get out of here. That would be more than uncomfortable. 

 “No, I’ll tell you later.” 

 I didn’t speak the rest of the game, pretending not to hear him cheer or laugh or make a snide remark to Felix every other second. Like the annoying click of a fan when you’re trying to fall asleep, Zayn’s every move made anger shake my bones. Lynn gave me sympathy looks every once in a while. It wasn’t like me to be this quiet, and even with our friendship being as new as it was, she knew that much. 

 The crowd didn’t roar this time. They were silent as the clock hit zero, staring blatantly at its twin beneath Home. The Guest team’s few Minnesota supporters jumped like little beans on the other side of the field, but their cries were faint. 

 We’d lost. 

 Everyone stood, and Renny linked her arm with mine. A familiar habit. “We’re going to Viv’s for some post-game depression drinks now.” 

 But I stopped her. 

 “I think I want to go back to the room,” I winced. 

 “Come on, PLEASE? It’ll be fun, you were barely here for the game.” 

 “I don’t know, depression and Viv in the same sentence… You really know how to sell a party.” 

 “Aren’t you coming, Y/N?” Lynn made moves to follow the rest of the crowd that was funneling out of the stands.  

 I shook my head at the same time Renny nodded hers. 

 She huffed. “Why not? It’s going to be chill. We lost. It’s not going to be like the usual ragers.” She popped her hip, completely deadpanned. “You haven’t seen another college-aged person in a week.” 

 “Yeah and there’s a reason for that.” 

 Concern washed over her, voice lowering. “Tell me.” 

 As if on cue, Zayn and Felix stopped their descent down the bleachers and looked up at the girls, waiting for them to join. It was all I could do to not scream at them. 

 “Later,” I said. “You’re leaving now.” 

 “I don’t have to leave right now, it’s not starting yet...” Renny began, but Lynn gave her a look that said yes, they were leaving now. 

 “She wants us to help set-up,” Lynn explained. 

 “But it’s a small thing, right?” I teased Renny. 

 My bestie rolled her eyes, lips pinching. “Are you SURE?” 

 I nodded, sitting down on the cool metal bleacher again. Renny took a step towards me, a sad look on her face, but I held up my hand. 

 “I’m fine,” I said, when I felt anything but. “I just want to wait until the crowd leaves.” I picked up the popcorn bag she’d left behind and threw a handful in my mouth with a cheesy, hopefully convincing grin.

 She grimaced, briefly looking back to Lynn who was anxiously waiting. “Fine. But we’re still talking about this later. I friggin miss you.”

 She left with the others, funneling out towards a party she’d probably stay at until the early morning. 

 I didn’t want to go back to the room. I didn’t want to go anywhere. 

 The lights were so bright on soccer fields. Bugs flew in and around, racing each other faster than the dust in my room. It wasn’t until the janitors walked past me that I realized I’d been sitting there for too long. I reached in the popcorn bag, but my hand came up empty. They’d gone overboard on the salty butter, but somehow, I’d still managed to eat all of it. 

 Even with everyone off the field though, I didn’t feel alone. An older Hispanic woman taking out the trash saw me walking down and opened up the bag. 

 “Thank you,” I said, smiling. 

 She just smiled in return, nodding her head as she continued down the aisle.

 Leaving the field’s gates, I was prepping for another mini run-for-my-life-and-back-to-the-dorm anxiety episode, when I heard someone shuffling. There were faint groaning noises, and I sped up my pace. 

 For a flash second, I thought someone was winning the “sleep in the locker room” bet, but when I tossed my head-back mid-run, I stopped so quickly, I almost tripped. 

 “Harry?” 

 There, in the dark, barely concealed by the shadows, he stumbled out. His abdomen looked… glossy? But then the light reflected crimson. 

 I ran to him as he fell, his white jersey stained with blood. “Oh my God, oh my God…” I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. “What happened?! Are you okay!?” 

 He pushed me back. “M’fine.” But his voice was strained. He stumbled again, and I reached out before he fell. 

 I thought the blood from his shirt had fallen from a bloody nose, but his hand moved to my arm in a vice-like grip, revealing a gash in his jersey, I saw more liquid pool out from his gut and I almost gagged. 

 “You are BEYOND fine. You aren’t fucking fine!!” 

 “We have to leave. Have to… get out of here.” He grimaced. His face, his beautifully chiselled face was swollen on one side, his lip cut from impact. 

 “Okay. OKAY. I need to call the cops. The cops. I’m going to call them.” Shaky hands took out the cellphone, but he threw it down. “HARRY!” 

 “Take me to the physical therapy room?” 

 I looked at his chest. “You’re bleeding. A LOT.” My free arm reached for the tossed phone, but he tugged me back. 

 “No. They’ll write a report. I can’t have a-” he winced, sucking in a breath, and I reached for the phone again. “DON’T. Fucking hell. Don’t call anyone.”

 My eyes racked his frame again, and I immediately applied pressure to his ab area, right where the gash was. He sucked in a breath, unleashing a string of curses I couldn’t hear right now. “Oh my God,” I breathed. 

 “Answer me,” he growled. 

 My mind scrambled for his question… he wanted me to take him to the physical therapy room.  “YES! Yes. I have the- fuck, yes, I know where the keys are.” I looked at him again. What the FUCK.

 “Stop freaking out,” he grunted, but he weakened the next second, his eyes fluttering before coming back to me. 

 “Okay, hold on. Hold onto me. Keep applying pressure.” 

 The physical therapy room wasn’t too far, bits of blood that’d fallen to his shoes marking our path.

 “Why aren’t all the cops here?” 

 “They’re on rotation. The parties... they’llbestationedthere-JESUS.” We paused, letting him catch his breath. But it was shallow. Too shallow. 

 “Can you wait here for a second?” I asked.

 He nodded, resting against a lamp post. 

 I hurried to the lockbox located behind the planter, punching in the code and unlocking it at lightning’s speed. 

 I didn’t know if there were cameras. I didn’t know if this was illegal. 

 I didn’t care.

 We made it through the doors, and he was just about to sit on the table when- 

 “WAIT!” I ran to grab several rags and laid it beneath him before heaving him up. The soft cry he made when sitting down was like a knife through my own chest. 

 I grabbed scissors, cutting his t-shirt. I didn’t have time to linger, I didn’t have time to notice the way his tattoos were completely concealed by a red current. There were two wounds. One, deeper, the other, more shallow. Both in the lower left abdomen, just above a prominent v-line.  

 I wiped around the area, pausing above the gashes. “This is going to sting,” I warned. 

 There wasn’t fear in his eyes. He watched me, and I, him, as I pressed it against the open skin. He trembled, wincing, mouth opening in silent exclamation.  

 “You’re doing good,” I whispered. 

 “So are you,” he gritted out. 

 I swallowed, reaching for the butterfly bandages. But as soon as I did, more blood rushed out. I held a rag to him. “Save your breath. You need it.”

 The thin white bandages seemed too little in the wake of his wound, and just as one bandage was placed, he cringed away, regretting his decision to move almost immediately.

 “Fucking hurts,” he groaned. 

 “Stop moving! I need to close the wound up. You’re bleeding too much.” 

 “Y/N, just take me home. Call Lionel,” he panted. 

 “I’m calling 911 if you don’t let me at least attempt to close this wound because if we leave now you’ll bleed out.” 

 “You’ve done enough, please-”

 “STOP. TALKING. I’ll call him after.” He saw a flame behind my eyes, and quieted, too weak to protest much more anyway. I came closer, and this time he didn’t flinch. The butterfly bandages at least minimally shrunk the open gouges. 

 With no other choice, I left him there alone, running across campus to my car and driving back in less than five minutes. It was illegal to drive through student walkways, let alone drive 60 mph, but there wasn’t a choice. I kept picturing Harry passing out, his limp God-like body, turned mortal, weak, bleeding out all over the training room floor. My foot hit the gas pedal harder. I could’ve been a damn marathon winner/race car driver. Let the cops add “speeding” to the file they already had on me. 

 Once we were both in the car, I looked over at him every two seconds. An entire roll of tight gauze around his abdomen kept the wound from bleeding out, but it was still turning pink. It was the second time blood would have been on my car. 

 Of all the revenge daydreams I’d had, I would’ve settled for Harry seeing me make out with Andre on the dancefloor over THIS. Would he die in my car? Would I be responsible?? I looked at the cheesy Angel pin my mom had given me for my car mirror. Never Fly Faster Than Your Guardian Angel Can Fly. Where was my angel now?? 

 “Where are we going?” He asked, between fading in and out.

 “To your house.” 

 His hand grabbed mine on the wheel and I practically swerved into the center divider from shock. 

 “HARRY!” 

 “We need to go to my house,” he said suddenly, panicked, as if I’d told him the opposite. 

 I placed our interlocked hands above the console. A safe distance away from the wheel in case he lurched again. 

 “Don’t worry, we’re going there. We’re going to your house. You’re just in shock, it’s okay,” I cooed, but it was desperate. And it was definitely not okay. 

 “They’ll ask… less..less questions...” 

 His grip was unbearably tight for three long seconds before it relaxed. 

 “Stay with me. Stay awake,” I urged. Harry’s lids kept drooping and I was desperate, blasting the Air Conditioning to an uncomfortable temperature. 

 Lionel picked up on the second ring. 

 “It’s Y/N. I think Harry’s been stabbed-” 

 “What?!” 

 “- I told him we should call the cops, but he was adamant we call you instead.” 

 “Seal the wound with whatever you can-”

 “I did that. Not well, we didn’t have wound sealant- Okay, I’m rambling. I don’t know what to do, but he needs to see a doctor. Immediately.” 

 There was a long pause. 

 “Hello?” my voice wavered. 

 “Bring him to the practice.” The voice over the other line was that of a doctor, matter-of-fact, somber. 

 Hoag Hospital passed me, a nagging thought telling me that’s where we should be going - where there was paperwork, evidence, some legitimate accountability. But I wasn’t his father. I wasn’t responsible. 

 “On my way. I’m getting off the freeway now.” 

 The call ended, and as I looked at Harry, fading dangerously out of consciousness, my hands trembled more from fear than cold. Out of all the reactions, I hadn’t expected this one. The voice on the other line hadn’t seemed surprised at all. 

come talk to me about the chappie or just about how you’re doing! now’s the time to stay connected :) 

[spaceorphan18]

99 Perspectives on a Single Love Story #13

A/N: The Story of Kurt and Blaine told through the eyes of everyone else but them. Each chapter is a different perspective in the ongoing tale of their love story.

I started something like this a while back - and now I’m taking the idea and really running with it. Each chapter is a ficlet of a different character at a different point in Kurt and Blaine’s life - documenting their love story. This starts in Audition, and each chapter will be paired with a different episode until reaching Dreams Come True.

[Ao3]

***

Matt Rutherford (Comeback) 

Matt Rutherford is shopping at the mall in Lima. He’s there for the weekend, visiting his grandparents, who are spoiling him like crazy. True, he still has a year to go before he graduates, but his grandma wants to make sure he’s set for college, and has taken him clothes and supply shopping so he’ll be all set. Normally, he isn't too fond of Grandma’s over-indulgence, but he’s getting a ton of free stuff, as well as a few new video games, so it’s worth it.

He hasn’t been back to Lima too much since he and his family moved away at the end of last year. He’s fine with that. His dad being in the military, he’s used to picking up and finding a new place, plus his new school has been incredibly welcoming. He loves it there. He doesn’t hate Lima at all - but he wouldn’t go back if asked.

He’s currently in The Gap, looking at pants near the front windows, when he sees someone he knows sitting out on one of the benches in the hallway. It’s Kurt Hummel -- dressed in an uncomfortable looking blue, prep-school jacket-thing. He’s sitting next to another guy with the same unfortunate jacket. Kurt’s got a shopping bag from Tattered Treasures on his lap and pulls out a very weird looking beige sweater that looks like the bottom half had been torn off. The other dude on the bench gives him a quizzical look - Matt’s glad he’s not the only one who finds Kurt Hummel’s wardrobe odd to say the least.

Matt contemplates, for a moment, going out and saying hi. It’s not like he and Kurt were ever close, or even had a conversation longer than a few sentences, but Kurt at least had been cordial. Matt thinks back to his time in McKinley High’s glee club. Most of his memories are of Puck doing stupid shit, or Rachel Berry being very loud, or staring at the back of Mercedes Jones’s head. He also has a very vivid memory of the things Brittany Pierce can do with her tongue. But it’s funny, he can’t remember much about Kurt except snarky one-liners, strange clothes, and the fact that he probably is gay.

The Kurt Hummel out in the hallway looks different somehow. Maybe it’s because he’s smiling, laughing, looking genuinely pleased. Matt doesn’t ever remember seeing Kurt that chill. And judging by the way the other guy keeps touching his arm and stares at him adoringly as they talk, Matt figures Kurt’s probably actually gay - and the dude is his boyfriend. Good for him.

Matt decides against not going out to say hi. He’s not sure what he’d say anyway. They’d exchange pleasantries -- Matt would talk about his possible football scholarships and Kurt would probably go on about Beyonce or something. Small talk just isn’t that interesting to him, and he’s fine leaving Kurt in his own little world as he’s sure Kurt is leaving Matt to his. He continues shopping without thinking much else about it.

Fifteen-ish minutes later, as Matt leaves with a few bags, he notices Kurt’s still on the bench, talking to the same guy. He hears a snippet of conversation.

“Are you sure you don’t want to go in?” Kurt is saying to the other guy. “Pretty sure there are a few cute guys still employed just waiting for you to get them fired through song. You know, you’ve stumbled on a fantastic new way to get back at exes who have burned you.”

“You are insane, you know that?” the other guy says fondly.

Kurt throws his head back with laughter, a hearty (and high-pitched) cackle of delight.

For a moment, Kurt turns his head, and sees Matt. Their eyes lock. Kurt’s still laughing, but takes a second to wave at him - maybe one of the friendliest actions Kurt’s ever shown to him. Matt waves back before Kurt re-engages in his conversation and Matt’s grandparents arrive taking his own attention away.

Grandpa wants to go look at fishing gear, and with that Matt moves on with his life, leaving any thoughts of Kurt Hummel long behind.

[seilune]

Seilune’s Body Aesthetic

Bold what applies. Italicize what sometimes applies.

[ BODY ] Long legs. Short legs. Average legs. Slender thighs. Thick thighs. Toned thighs. Soft Thighs. Skinny arms. Soft arms. Toned arms. Toned stomach. Flat stomach. Flabby Stomach. Soft stomach. Six-pack. Beer belly. Lean frame. Beefy/muscular frame. Voluptuous frame. Petite frame. Lanky frame. Short nails. Long nails. Manicured nails. Dirty nails. Flat ass. Toned ass. Bubble butt. Small waist. Average waist. Thick waist. Narrow hips. Average hips. Wide hips. Big feet. Average feet. Small feet. Soft feet. Slender feet. Calloused hands. Soft hands. Big hands. Average hands. Small hands. Long fingers. Short fingers. Average fingers. Narrow shoulders. Broad shoulders. Average shoulders. Underweight. Average weight. Overweight. Big ears. Slim Ears

[ HEIGHT ] Shorter than 140 cm. 141 cm-150 cm. (147.32 cm) 151 cm to 160 cm. 161 cm to 170 cm. 171 cm to 180 cm. 181 cm to 190 cm. 191 cm to 2m. Taller than 2 m

[ SKIN ] Pale. Rosy. Olive. Dark. Tanned. Blotchy. Smooth. Moles. Acne. Dry. Greasy. Freckled. Scars. Birthmarks

[ EYES ] Small. Large. Average. Grey. Brown. Blue. Violet. Pink. Green. Gold. Hazel. Amber. Crimson. Doe-eyed. Almond. Close-set. Wide-set. Deep-set. Squinty. Monolid. Heavy eyelids. Upturned. Downturned.

[ HAIR ] Thin. Thick. Fine. Normal. Greasy. Dry. Soft. Shiny. Curly. Frizzy. Wild. Unruly. Straight. Smooth. Wavy. Floppy. Cropped. Pixie-cut. Afro. Shoulder length. Back length. Waist length. Past hip-length. Buzz cut. Bald. Weave. Hair extensions. Jaw length. Layered. Mohawk. Dreadlocks. Box braids. Faux locks. White (Silver). Platinum blonde. Golden blonde. Dirty blonde. Blonde. Strawberry Blonde. Ombre. Ash brown. Mouse brown. Chestnut brown. Golden brown. Chocolate brown. Dark brown. Jet black. Ginger. Red. Auburn. Green. Dyed. Thin eyebrows. Average eyebrows. Thick eyebrows. Plucked eyebrows.

[ TATTOOS / PIERCINGS ] Full sleeve. Thigh tattoo. Neck tattoo. Chest tattoo. Back tattoo. Shoulder blade tattoo. One tattoo. Two tattoos. Face tattoo. Hand tattoo. A few here and there. Multiple. No tattoos. Monroe piercing. Nose piercing. Septum. Nipple piercing(s). Genital piercing(s). Industrial piercings. Earlobe piercings. Prince Albert piercing. Eyebrow piercing(s). Tongue piercing(s). Lip piercing(s). Top of the ear. Tragus piercing. Angel bites. Labret. Stretched out ears. Navel piercing. Inverse navel piercing. Cheek piercing(s). Smiley. Nape piercing(s). No piercings.

[ COSMETICS ] Eyeliner. Light eyeliner. Heavy eyeliner. Cat eyes. Mascara. Fake eyelashes. Matte lipstick. Regular lipstick. Lipgloss. Red lips. Pink lips. Nude lips. Dark lips. Bronzer. Highlighter. Eyeshadow. Neutral eyeshadow. Smoky eyes. Colorful eyeshadow. Blush. Lipliner. Light contouring. Heavy contouring. Powder. Matte foundation. Shiny foundation. Concealer. Wears war paint from time to time. Wears make up regularly. Wears it from time to time. Rarely wears make-up. Never wears make up. Wears awesome masks!

[ SCENT ] Floral. Herbal. Earthy. Fruity. Perfumes. Aftershave. Cocoa. Moisturizer. Shampoo. Cigarettes. Leather. Fur. Sweat. Food. Incense. Marijuana. Cologne. Whiskey. Wine. Fried food. Blood. Fire. Cold. Fresh. Metal. Rain. Chemicals. Wood.

[ CLOTHES ]Jeans. Tight pants. Overknee socks. Tights. Leggings. Yoga pants. Pencil skirt. Tight skirt. Loose skirt. Tight/Form-fitting dress. Cardigans. Tunic. Blouse. Button up shirt. Band-T-shirt. Sports-T-shirt. Sweatpants. Tanktop. Cut off t-shirt. Designer. High street. Leather jacket. Thrift. Lingerie. Long skirt. Miniskirt. Maxidress. Sun dress. Tie. Tuxedo. Cocktail dress. High slit dress/skirt. T-shirt. Loose clothing. Tight clothing. Jean shorts. Sweater. Sweater vest. Waistcoat. Khaki pants. Suit. Hoodie. Harem pants. Basketball shorts. Boxers/Boxer-Briefs. Thong. Hotpants. Hipster panties. Bra. Sportsbra. Crop top. Corset. Ballerina skirt. Leotard. Bikini. Polka dot. Stripes. Glitter. Cotton. Linen. Silk. Lace. Leather. Velvet. Patterns. Florals. Neon colors. Pastels. Light colors. White. Black. Dark colours. Fur/Fauxfur. Revealing clothing. Heavy armor. Medium armor. Light Armor. Magnificent hats. Dumb Hats.

[ SHOES ] Sneakers. Slip-ons. Flats. Slippers. Sandals. High heels. Kitten heels. Ankle boots. Combat boots. Knee-high. Platforms. Stripper heels. Bare feet. Loafers. Oxfords. Gladiator shoes. Leather boots. Steel-Toed Boots.

Tagged by: @mythraltia​ on my FFXIV blog. Thank you!

Tagging: @shatteredevocation​ @unabashedrebel​ @lunethdawnseeker​ @wildname​ @dardillien-ward​ @mothervvoid​ @veari​ @suramarelf​ @sentinel-lovi​ @nimuehdraemberfury​ @eleeria​ @flamehaired​ @oathkeeperblackdawn​ @grandpa-swagger​ @eluari​ @ratonwolfmane​ @leahdarkspear​ @josiehastings​ @kat-hawke​ @zaennicus​ @anierous-sunblade​ @jinx4karma​ @jiraki-the-hybrid​ @felthier​ @fel-temptation​ @celassa​ @lady-elizriel​ @jack-of-all-trades-ffxiv​ @draenei-tales​ @barirnshadowwind​ @shamanofthewilds​ @karangafeatherspear​ @hazriels​ @windup-astra​ @elezendad​ @hadleythefox​ @thalsianiii​ @mist-and-sparks​ @ithaerielbrenagh​ @thedudeffxiv​ @kiyi-ghale​ and anyone else who would like to do it. Feel free to tag me! xo

[miggydiaz]

OC asks: 3, 11, 21, 36, 50, & 92

I love that you are always ready to assist me in procrastination, what would I do without you?

3. What is the meaning behind their name? Do they have any nicknames? Jinx’s nickname being Jinx stems from sharing her full name with her grandmother. Virginia Louise Holliday I, also known as Ginny, is a witchy old woman who lives at the border of Riverdale/Greendale in a small house where she feeds a ton of stray cats. She has a rocking chair on her front porch, and sometimes sits there with a shot gun that she once threatened Grandpa Forsythe with because he was being a drunk menace to her husband. Her daughter, Gwen, decided to name her own daughter after her mother because her mother has big 70′s second wave feminism energy and even though she can be a bit... chaotic, she’s still a wonderful woman. But Ginny was taken as a nickname, and so she went with Jinxie (which became shortened to Jinx as she got older) instead. Jughead calls her Jinxie when he’s being deliberately and over the top patronizing. He calls her Virginia when he wants to get on her nerves. And her girlfriend, Bernie, calls her Jinxie (affectionate). Matt is just... he’s an every day guy, you know? Played football in high school. Wanted to be an actor. Lost his dad in a robbery and decided to become a cop for ~Good~ and ~Noble~ reasons but is disillusioned with the reality of it. Every Matt I’ve ever known has been a good guy, if not a little messy, and just trying to make it work and that’s Matt Turner in a nutshell. 11. If they could make a mark on history, what would they like it to be? 

Jinx is funny because even though she’s a musician, she actually hates being like... the center of people’s attention. She gets very uncomfortable when people are complimentary of her, but I mean... also, she wouldn’t hate leaving a legacy like Freddie Mercury’s behind either. 60,000 people all singing along to one of her songs in unison at a festival 30 years after her death? Yes please. Matt is more interested in doing what he can to dismantle gross police work from the inside. He is very aware of the ACAB principle (and tbf, that’s also my position so Matt is like... what I WISH cops were? Without being copaganda?), but also, he’s on the inside so he might as well do what he can to actually help. He just loves the community he lives in, and wants to make it better. It’s not a great neighborhood, but he tries to offer an alternative to calling the police to people that he knows or recognizes as coming through the station before. I mean, it’s still technically calling the police, but if he can diffuse a situation without it having to go on the books? He’d rather do it that way. He could be a community activist in another world, but he just wants to be a good example of what community policing could and should be like.

21. What is their favorite thing about their personality? 

Jinx is fiercely loyal to the people she cares about because there’s like... a small handful of them. She is 100% the girl you call when you need something because she just has no compunction about doing whatever needs to be done, as long as it’s for one of her people. She will take secrets to the grave. Trust is a VERY important thing for her because of a horrible past relationship, and she treats it with the utmost respect.

For Matt, it’s his personality. He thinks he’s hilarious... to varying degrees of delusion. He will take things seriously when he needs to, but he is the first one to try and bring levity to the situation. A bit of a goofball, but he just really enjoys making people laugh.

36. What is their sense of humor like? Give an example of a joke they would find humorous. Jinx is a riffer. She’s not much of a ‘let me tell you a joke’ sort of person, but she loves to banter off the cuff, and her and Jug can and will just say stupid shit to each other for hours. Basically, I think of Jug, Jinx, and their cat Mingus as a wholesome Team Rocket from Pokemon, and Jinx fully embraces that. That being said, she has a really TERRIBLE sense of humor. Like, bad jokes are her bread and butter. Like a “What do they call Pringles in Spanish. Prespañol~” bad.

Matt, on the other hand, is genuinely hilarious in that sort of goofballish way and Veronica is constantly laughing at the stuff he says or does. He once found her Monica Posh wig in her closet and put it on immediately, coming out and inventing a whole new alias for himself after she explained Monica Posh to him. When he’s actually telling jokes though instead of just being kind of an idiot, one of his favorites (that he never tells around Veronica because she is both Catholic and Lawyer-to-be in my universe) is as follows: A man and a woman meet in Heaven. They fall in love, and eventually decide that they want to get married. So they go to God and they say “God, we have fallen in love and we want to be married.” So God says to them, okay, let me see what I can do.” A few months later, he finds the couple and says, “okay, I can allow you to get married now.” So they marry. Then, a couple years down the line, they’re fighting a lot. They just can’t reconcile their differences, so they go back to God, and they say “God, we really can’t stand each other any more, and we want to get divorced.” God, displeased, says “It took me four months to find a priest in this joint. How long do you think it’ll take me to find a lawyer?” *insert buh dum tiss here* 50. How would you describe their style of clothing? How would they describe their style of clothing? 

Jinx describes her overall aesthetic as Trash Panda chic. A lot of ripped jeans, her doc martens, tank tops, lots of layered jewelry, fishnets and flannel, big Snooki bump. She loves a good vest. Lots of black, and with winged liner sharp enough to stab someone with. She claims the reason her eyebrow raising game is so strong is because it had to do the heavy lifting of an ill-conceived eyebrow ring in high school, which she does not have anymore. It’s a little punk, a little hipstery, but mostly she just looks like she rolled out of a laundry basket... which is usually how she goes about her day.

Matt goes for farmer’s market hot. Good jeans, not too ripped but definitely well worn. Henley. A flannel over top if it’s cool out. He loves a good sweater. In the summer, unless he’s working, it’s a tshirt and jeans. V-necks, usually. For lounging around the house, it’s 100% boxers and his bathrobe while he eats colorful sugary cereal out of a giant jethro sized bowl and watches Saturday college football (he roots for Georgia since he’s originally from Atlanta, and Veronica laments that she has a type: Bulldog football players who just want to be do-gooders).

92. Describe them as a John Mulaney gif. 

Jinx:

Matt: 

[xlady-saya]

i’ve had a love of my own [ch 1]

Relationships: andrew/neil

Summary: Despite everything Neil could’ve imagined for his life, he never thought he’d be here, finally giving the world the interview they’ve always wanted.

It’s been decades, but even with his numerous accolades and sports wins, he finds that they’re the least important thing about his life.

Neil can’t help but laugh. Andrew would be so annoyed if he were here.

Of course, Neil only wants to talk about him, and the life they spent together.

Tags: interviews, post canon, major character death but not how u think I swear lol, neil is an old man retelling his memories about andrew, cheesy romance, post retirement, see more tags on ao3

Read on ao3!

Neil pricks himself on the old Palmetto pin as he fixes it to his collar, jabbing the same spot on his thumb he hit just a week before.

He hardly winces at the feeling these days, and for a long time, Matt joked about how he really couldn't go a day without attracting some form of violence. Neil smiles at the thought, because it's far from the truth. He stands by the claim he never asked for fights, simply had no problem finishing them.

"You mean letting me finish them," Andrew would quip, and they'd go back and forth all over again in a never-ending argument. It's so never-ending, Neil goes through the motions of it even now, however many decades later.

This pin tends to start it, since it's the only remotely dangerous thing he owns now. The orange is still bright and obnoxious, with criss crossing Exy racquets in a bright white. He's memorized the raised edges, tilted from old age. The once silver backing has rust spots, but no one ever sees that part. It has its reputation intact, and Neil smiles sardonically.

It's not the only thing that's been worn down, but he likes to think he doesn't look as bad as he could too. Laughing at his own joke, he taps the pin lightly. It's apparently vintage now, according to Allison, since the new Palmetto merch has drifted into neon territory.

Neil is glad he kept his own. It's especially important today, he thinks, that he shows as much fondness for the past as possible. Though, it's not for his sake. His room is nothing but littered with the tokens of the past.

Sighing, he stares fondly out across the living room, the walls haphazardly decorated with old, signed jerseys his friends used to wear. He has one from each of their old teams, but picked his favorites to go up on the wall. The rest sit in storage, ready to be auctioned off whenever he decides living is too much of a chore. Above the mantle, Andrew's racquet from his last team hangs in a shadow box. Then below it, framed pictures which Neil tries to rotate as best he can, some of them shitty ones converted from his phone camera. Mostly, they're of his Foxes at various points in their lives. The only two photos which stay the same are the one he took with Andrew and Kevin at the Olympics, and the snapshot of him and Andrew at the airport in his first year at Palmetto.

If he had to catalog the room, that would barely scratch the surface. He's pages away from mentioning Nicky's terribly made mugs, Betsy's first editions, and cookie tins filled with postcards Katelyn and Aaron sent twenty years ago.

Most of the time, the untidy collection of junk surrounding him is a comfort. It makes the small apartment feel like home, or as close as he can get when he's by himself. He swears some of the items still carry the unique scents of grass stains and floor polish, or Allison's perfume and the glitter glue from Dan and Matt's kids.

When that fails him, the candle he has in every room does the trick to fill in the blanks. Andrew used the same scent for over half their life together: breakfast pancakes. It's sickly sweet and stains the furniture, and Neil loves nothing more than to bury his face in the cushions after a day of having them lit.

These are the things that ground him, that keep him in place, but today he feels fidgety for the first time in years. He shouldn't be, he thinks, laughing to himself. He planned this after all, it's just...

Well, he's never been the best at talking to people.

There's a knock at his door, and the cuckoo clock on the wall (shockingly, that one is his fault) tells him it's right on schedule. Neil sighs, slipping his feet into the white slippers beneath him. "Come in, Sydney."

The nurse on his floor opens the door to his apartment with a smile, too fresh faced and early for this time of day. She’s young, and she's always been a bit cheery for his taste, but she reminds him of Katelyn and he allows it. In the last few years, when Andrew's migraines prevented him from reading, she'd bring him audiobook gift cards.

She smiles bright, and he gives her that look for her to cut it out. At this point, she's less put off by it and more amused. He only tells her to save the smiles because if she doesn't she'll have wrinkles like him years from now. He hates how much he sounds like Allison.

Neil hardly looks in the mirror anymore, but this morning he put in some effort. He looks as perpetually tired as he always looked back in the day, except now his eye bags are accompanied by wrinkles that form their own topographical map on his face.

At least he didn't lose all his hair.

The only thing is his blue eyes are as piercing as ever, so coupled with the grandpa look, he's quite intimidating. Not that he needs to be, but it's nice to feel a little capable when he can barely walk by himself anymore.

"Morning, Mr. Josten," Sydney greets, untucking the wheelchair from behind the door and pushing it over to him. He makes sure to grab Andrew's favorite crochet blanket. He hates messing with it, but he thinks the smell of nicotine it carries will help him today. Refresh his memory.

Neil grumbles, but lets her help him into the chair. He has on his good lounge pants, without holes, and his old Palmetto sweater. "I told you years ago I hate being called that."

"Because it makes you feel old," she jabs, teasing lightly. Even still, she's gentle when she places the blanket over his lap and hands him his glasses. "I have to keep you in line somehow."

"Ha-ha."

As she wheels him out of his room, he starts fidgeting again. He's used to exploring the luxury nursing home on his own time, not because he has somewhere to be. He hasn't had somewhere to be since...well, he hates thinking about that, lest he run into a memory that hurts more than helps.

Today isn't the day for that.

Some other, more able-bodied residents pass by him on foot, waving amicably and knowing better than to expect a wave back. Shockingly, he's well liked here, probably because he doesn't have rowdy grandkids who break the peace. Plus, he's pretty sure some of them are old fans.

Sydney leans down as they pass through the common area and into one of the meeting rooms, the spotless linoleum floor throwing him off as usual. He never would've picked a place so expensive and fancy for himself, but Andrew was always someone with classy tastes. "Ready for today?"

At the reminder, Neil wrings his fingers together. Not advised by his doctor, but fuck that guy. "As ready as I'll ever be," he says, glaring at the glass doors ahead. Sydney laughs, placing him at the end of a large table. The meeting room creeps him out, since it's mostly used for family meetings or will planning appointments. Sound proof, silent.

"Oh hush, you're a famous athlete, I'm sure you've faced worse," she chides, pouring him a glass of water without any ice. Because he's a fiend. Neil rolls his eyes; she has no idea. He's threatened countless reporters before for stepping even a toe out of line, but some recent college grads from an indie publication are making him sweat more than an Exy game. Sydney makes a show of whispering behind her hand. "Besides, I heard from Gabe at the front desk they look terrified, so go easy on them, yes? Can't have another cafeteria incident."

Ugh, not that again.

"You have no witnesses," he waves off, leaning back in his seat while Sydney sets the break in place. Only then is he hit with a wave of calm, fondness even. His quivering hands curl as best they can in the blanket, the ghost of a grip, and he smiles out across the room. Ah, he can't be doing this already, but it's hard to help. He itches for the smell of a cigarette, a press on the back of his neck. Closing his eyes, he tries his best to feel it. "Besides, once they know why they're really here they won't be nearly so stressed. Hell, they might even be disappointed."

He tries not to grimace at that, but for the time he's giving them and the paperwork he made them sign, they're going to sit and listen to his old man ravings all day or so help him--

He feels a hand brush against his, and when he looks Sydney is there. She squeezes his fingers in hers, smile fond and weighed down with a sadness so foreign, he nearly regrets telling her to cut it out. But no, he understands. He's the one who understands the most. She grazes the fabric of the blanket as she pulls away, breathing in the same smoke he can for just a moment. "No, I don't think that's possible."

She doesn't give Neil time to doubt himself, not that he could. He can never doubt anything when it comes to Andrew, no matter how much the blond secretly doubted about himself. Neil always teased him for that, and his living oxymoron ways.

Neil's biggest goal of the day is to piss off Andrew's ghost as much as humanly possible, and his grin is nearly splitting at the thought. Fine, mission active.

"Good luck!" Sydney calls as she leaves the meeting room, and he watches her gesture to his guests once they arrive through the glass doors.

Oh shit, they really do look terrified.

The two interviewers see him through the door and Neil can only assume they shit a brick. They're young, can't be more than a few years out of university, dressed way too professionally for someone as uncaring as Neil. They could've shown up in clown costumes for all he cared, at least he would've gotten a good laugh.

The young man fumbles with the door and his companion rushes forward a little too fast before correcting herself. Jeez.

Neil does his best to hide his laugh, not that he's ever been polite. It's more...

Their terror is Neil's fault. He started declining interviews soon after he retired, letting his name and lifestyle fade into mystery and speculation with the public. Kevin had not been happy about it, since to this day he and Thea are in the public eye, commentating on Exy games, doing talk shows, helping curate museums, blah, blah, blah...

Neil didn't have time for that.

He never thought he'd be okay with slipping back into unknown status after so many years of being seen, being cheered for, but when the time came it was an easy choice. Andrew made it so. Neil had his time to be free, to do whatever he wanted and play the sport he loved. But ultimately, when he no longer could, fucking off to do whatever he wanted with Andrew sounded way better than dealing with reporters and overzealous fans.

Just because he became an unknown though, doesn't mean he faded into obscurity. According to Allison, his life has been quite a hot button issue in the community for over a decade. People want to know where he's been, what he did during those years, how he looks back on the past, everything. It's been obnoxious.

Popular sports magazines and large publications have practically been clawing for a piece of him for years, and he's never given in no matter how many fruit bouquets they sent or how many checks they tried to write him. Though, one almost got him purely because they kept sending gourmet chocolates, and if Andrew was a glutton before, old age only made it worse.

So, Neil Josten is back to being a subject of interest for some reason, someone people want to know everything about. For him to randomly call up a dying indie magazine and offer them full rights to an interview under his specific terms surely threw the sports world into a fucking whirl.

Whatever.

He's going to share what he wants to share. Nothing more, nothing less.

"Mr. Jo--" The first reporter clears his throat, passing his notepad and phone over to his other hand before outstretching one to Neil. "Mr. Josten. It's such an honor to meet you, um, wow. I'm Blake, and this is Rayah. We're so grateful for being granted the opportunity to interview you. You're a legend!"

Neil stares at the outstretched hand like he doesn't know what to do with it, and as much as he does know what's expected of him, part of his hesitation is equal parts his disinterest and the fact he doesn't talk to anyone but his remaining family these days. Well, and Sydney.

Blake swallows and drops his hand, surely admonishing himself for his own stupidity.

Rayah saves him. "Um, we really are appreciative, sir," she says, laying out some notepads and setting up her recorder. Old school, Neil appreciates it. It's better than cameras and microphones. "We're still in shock honestly. We were theorizing on why you picked us the entire drive up here!"

"Neil is fine, and don't bother with small talk I know it's not why you're here," he says then, smiling at her words. They both flinch, taken aback. He's not sure why they'd be expecting a Kevin Day type. He has a record for being too blunt and argumentative for his own good. He's right though; they're here for answers, not discussions on how he's doing or what he does for fun in his not so humble nursing home. In much the same vein, he promised honesty, so he'll give it from the start. "I picked you precisely because you're unknown and failing."

They freeze, but they're clearly not Foxes. If they were, they'd immediately get indignant and glare, hold themselves back from punching a helpless old man. Oh, those were the good ol' days.

When Rayah fumbles for a response, a logic, Neil simply shrugs. "I like the underdogs."

He doesn't intend it to be, but it's a tension breaker. The stiffness in the reporters' shoulders deflate with a laugh, and they finally get back to organizing themselves without looking like they want to run for the hills and beg ESPN to take over.

"As your history suggests," Blake jokes, and Neil rewards him with a grin, tapping his Foxes pin.

He doesn't mention the fact Andrew would've never spoken to him had he gone to some trashy magazine, and that Andrew was always a bit of a rebel himself, though he hated to admit to any kind of urge that didn't involve Neil, sweets, or fancy cars.

Neil takes the free moment to wrap his blanket around his shoulders, letting the ingrained smell of ash permeate around him. Much better, he can think so much clearer like this.

As they finish setting up and take their seats across from him, Blake taps his pencil against the rim of his notepad. It looks like he almost wants to launch back into small talk, but thinks better of it when he remembers Neil's words. Considerate, a good listener. Just what Neil needs today.

Blake clears his throat, cutting through the bullshit. "Now, we know you have specific terms for how you want to lead this interview, which we're completely fine with. Wherever you want to start, we'll follow."

And with that, they sit back, unsure but ready to catch whatever morsel of information might fall from Neil's lips. Again, he finds himself fighting a smirk.

Of course, he led these people astray a bit, but he doesn't see the problem with having a little fun before revealing his true intentions.

He nods, pushing down the giddy feeling that always comes with talking about Andrew. Not yet, but soon.

"Hm, I assume you prepared some questions just in case," Neil asks, taking a sip of his water.

Rayah blinks, exchanging a look with Blake. She rifles through her notepad to a page in the middle, scribbled and stained with ink. There are so many questions on it, some of them curve over the others in a painful word twister. "Uh yes but, we didn't think you'd want to answer them," she guesses.

She's correct.

Neil loathes interview questions, because they're predictable. But in this case, he'll let the first one lead him down the road.

Neil relents, leaning back in his wheelchair. "Well you're mostly right, but why don't you ask me your first one?" He offers, and they look positively ecstatic. "That'll get me started."

And once he starts, he doubts he'll be able to stop.

"Sure." Blake clears his throat, making sure his recorder is functioning properly. When he's satisfied, he leans back, mirroring Neil's posture, though the rigidity is still there. If he doesn't lighten up, he's going to have back pains for days. "Now, there have been a lot of milestones in your career as a pro athlete. No one would dream of disputing your skill in the sport, or how you earned any of your countless awards--"

"Flattery," Neil warns, raising a single finger. That's not what he's here for either. In fact, as much as this is his interview, it's not about him at all.

"Right," Blake says with a huff of a laugh. "But surely one of your brightest moments was your historic win at the Olympics. It was talked about for months within the community. Of course, any true Exy fan knows the details of the game, it was only covered by every major publication. So, I guess our question is, what do you most remember about that moment? Was it as monumental for you as it was for Exy fans?"

Ah, a predictable question, but also not a bad place to begin. Neil doesn't fight the edge of the smirk that appears, though he does raise his thumb to swipe at it. It's been a while since he's felt so mischievous, it's so difficult to be, well, difficult when you're being wheeled around all day.

It was a monumental moment for him, though maybe not for the reasons everyone else would think.

"You certainly did your research," he comments, humming as he sits back in thought. He already knows his answer, but he's weak, and the feelings the memory evokes barely need to push him to send him careening off balance. Swept up. "Not sure what I was expecting from people so young, but my apologies for making assumptions."

He's glad they didn't ask the question in the stereotypical format, fishing for ways to brag and make it all about him. When he thinks of that time, as proud as he was, it's not his own praise that comes to mind.

With that in mind, Neil sighs.

"I don't think it was an exaggeration to say that was one of the best days of my life," he admits, and it's the truth. He's not here to lie. Come to think of it, he hasn't lied once since Andrew ran on ahead of him. Smiling, Neil lets the words flow.

"It was important to me, but not all because of the Olympics themselves..."

--

Neil rarely has time to pay attention in Exy games, as horrible and inefficient as that sounds.

His feet move on their own accord like a well-oiled machine, cogs and steam rushing through him to propel him across the court at record speeds. And they are record speeds.

That's why he's here isn't it? To run, to score.

It had been overwhelming when he first arrived, the sheer size of the Exy court at the Olympics. It's surrounded by flags from all over the world, bright neon signs and sponsorships. The lights at the entrance had been so vibrant, he made the mistake of looking up at them.

Blinding.

All aspects about it are, because as much as Neil knows this is his life, it can't possibly be reality.

The crowd makes the one at the Ravens' stadium seem minuscule, out of its league with seats and aisles that almost climb up to the heavens. The crowd roars and Neil feels every cheer and stomp echo against his bones.

He never thought he'd be here, but despite the gravity of it, he no longer has the time nor want to dwell on it. All that matters is his team, and getting them the gold.

Being with Andrew afterwards...getting to see Wymack smile proudly at Kevin.

Letting Kevin be proud of himself.

And Neil is an Olympic-qualified player, so with all that in mind, he delivers the second best game of his life. Even in the final seconds of the second half, even when he's been body checked so many times the nuts and bolts he imagines inside him must surely be worn and off-kilter, he doesn't stop moving. Everything is instinct, from the force of his steps to the last minute shifts he needs to intercept the ball.

It's not Kevin's perfect strategy, it's not a map or an out of body experience where he can see where every player on the court is.

He has no idea what's going on outside of what's in front of him, no awareness of anything but the immediate threats and a certain beacon, standing in the goal.

And that's the hardest part of it all, not being able to look over at Andrew for even a moment after he scores, because the game is fast and ruthless, and he has twice the energy of anyone on this court.

It's a stupid way to play, if he's really supposed to be Kevin's double. But they all long since established he is far from it. He has his own passion, his own drive, and Kevin trusts Neil with his life on the court.

Probably through anything.

So when he sees the perfect opportunity for a final interception, a chance to get them the last winning goal of the game, he's surprised that it's the one moment where it all comes to a stop. He's never had the experience before; normally his body snaps into action. He's not used to comprehending things until they're said and done.

He thinks his body is still following through though, turning in just the right way, making sure he's lined up.

But Neil is aware of so much more, his eyes train like a predator's on the goal, and he understands. He has a choice.

Choices are a weird luxury now, but he's gotten so used to having the freedom of them, he's forgotten the sheer magnitude they can carry.

His eyes snap to the goal, and then to Kevin. Kevin, who is so much closer, and already looking right at Neil.

And Neil never describes himself as fond towards most people, but he can say it proudly in that moment. This is the Kevin Day he likes to see.

Green eyes stare back, blown wide with a fire that can't be matched by anyone, probably not even his own mother, maybe not even Neil. A true, unadulterated love for this violent, freeing sport. Kevin catches Neil's eyes through his face guard, forehead drenched in sweat but his entire being rings with energy, ready and unwilling to quit until the buzzer sounds.

A Fox, at heart. Neil knows Andrew can see from where he's standing in goal, and Neil knows he's just as satisfied, deep down. It might give him some peace of mind too, to know Kevin kept his spine.

Neil puts all of those emotions into his last movement of the game.

He inclines his head just so, and that's it.

Kevin moves.

As Neil's racquet intercepts the ball from the other team's striker, he can't help but be a bit smug as he takes a powerful step forward. He can hear the painful slide of his shoes against the court floor, the heat of being too close, too exposed.

His legs will surely be shot after this, but no matter.

Kevin Day was always meant to be the greatest player in the history of Exy, the reigning queen, despite the arrogance they'll surely have to hear non-stop about. Fine. It's only fair that Neil help him achieve that goal here, at the biggest stadium in the world.

(By no means the best one, but still).

The clock gets down to five seconds, the beats resounding off the walls of his skull. Neil swings his racquet with such force the strings whistle, and the ball moves in a straight line directly into Kevin's. The other striker has zero time to react, the force of Neil's brutal cut off sending him stumbling. The ball hits Kevin's strings hard, Kevin's grip tightening around his racquet to keep it close to him.

Kevin doesn't hesitate longer than that.

He shoots at the goal in one fluid arch, and scores.

As confident as Neil is in Kevin's aim and skill, he'll admit his stomach swoops. It's a feeling that never truly goes away, much like the instincts that keep him moving. He wouldn't trade it for anything, that millisecond exhilaration before it comes together.

Because well, at one point nothing ever fell into place for him.

In the flash where the ball hits the net, Neil feels the ghost of a key in his palm, reminding him when that changed. The buzzer of the countdown blares, and all that anticipation meets a well-deserved end.

The stadium erupts until not even the buzzer can be heard. There's a swish of plexiglass doors, the sounds of their coach yelling in triumph, but Neil's body is too spent to react.

Neil's heart constricts in his chest as he tries to get air in, but it's impossible. Satisfied doesn't even begin to cover it, though he's sure he looks just as breathless as Kevin does, staring at the goal as it lights up. The world moves around him, respecting his moment of privacy when they should be hoisting him up and not allowing him a minute of disbelief. Neil's glad they don't; Kevin deserves to look surprised once in a while.

His teammates pile on each other, clapping him as they pass. A lot of them are still in shock, a few fall to their knees right away, but Neil feels nothing but fulfilled.

He made the right call.

His body sags, stinging, and he feels Andrew's gaze pinning him upright from across the court. It's the only thing that gets him walking, but he wills himself not to look in his boyfriend's direction.

If he does well...nothing else will matter, and there's one thing he has to do.

In a haze, he goes over to Kevin, who turns, sensing him. Neil shakes his head at Kevin's arrogance to this day, because even though Kevin is the one who made this possible for him, who came to him first...

Well, he still lets Neil do all the work. Neil laughs and hugs Kevin fiercely, barely keeping himself upright, and they trade the trembling in their bodies. Kevin drops his racquet, their height difference making them look all the more pathetic. He can hear Andrew's voice already, telling them they're too emotional about a damn sport.

Somehow, that makes Neil even happier, and he leans back as Kevin pries his helmet off, eyes wild and smiling.

Yes, the right choice. Absolutely.

"We did it," Kevin says, but not in disbelief. He had to have known they'd always make it here. "We did it."

Neil squeezes his friend's shoulder and grins, uncaring of what camera catches it. He's too damn happy to care. "Guess we did."

The crowd cheers so loud Neil can't hear more than a faint buzz in his ears, and the sticky scent of gatorade and sweat is an unfortunate addition. The cameras flash and shine obnoxiously through the double plexiglass to bathe them in light and attention.

Yet, with his legs feeling like jelly and his muscles stretched to the limits, there's only one thing he really wants. What he always wants.

Warmth, safety, something to lean on and keep him sheltered from the world before facing it alongside him. Neil hates that before, the only thing he yearned for was to play Exy. He thought that was bad.

This is so much worse.

Biting his lip, Neil turns to where Andrew is standing in the goal, already looking at him from across the court. And Andrew, with all his control, keeps himself planted there. Neil's breathing hiccups loudly, and Kevin's probably the only one who hears it over the cacophony.

Neil doesn't think he can cry anymore, but his eyes tighten up, he has to blink the pain away.

Neil wonders if Andrew's gripping his racquet hard enough to damage it, if he's digging his heels into the ground like Neil is.

Neil swallows down the lump in his throat. Suddenly, he hates the cameras more than usual; he's torn between wanting them to vanish completely, or wishing they paid as much attention to Andrew, because god, he's earned it.

Neil digs his heels in harder.

I want to be with you.

It's such a simple string of thought; it has crossed his mind so many times before, but never has the urge hurt so much. It has nothing to do with all he's worked for, with the fame and recognition this win will bring him. It's just Andrew.

He hasn't had a knife to his skin in years, but this reminds him of the piercing of flesh, lighting his nerves on end and sending him towards the source of his relief, his contentment.

Andrew played so well, so well, not just here. He worked his way through the pros until he got to Neil, worked his ass off for his reputation. He qualified with the rest of them to be here.

And tonight, he blocked almost every shot at his goal.

Neil closes his eyes, willing himself to calm down but he can't. This is one of the best moments of his life. If he can't share it with Andrew to the fullest, what was the point of everything in his past?

They're not out. That's the problem, he knows, as much as he doesn't give a single fuck. No one outside their family and management knows anything about them, apart from some tabloid rumors about their intense dislike of one another. If that doesn't prove how clueless the media is, Neil doesn't know what does.

And as much as they value privacy, as much as their peaceful bubble is enough, it's moments like these where Neil wants to take and show no matter the consequences.

He looks to Kevin, unsure. It's always been him, the one who warned them about the backlash they'd face despite his acceptance of their relationship years ago.

Neil expects the same thing here: the subtle shake of Kevin's head, the concern in his eyes for their careers and future. It used to piss Neil off to no end, but Kevin communicates all emotion through Exy, even concern. Neil's learned to read between those infuriating lines. The importance of career translates to 'without your career, there is no you.' Sometimes he forgets he's not entirely free.

And if he weren't around, then Andrew...

'You can't leave him.'

And so, knowing Kevin's language, Neil stayed in line, and he expects that same advice today. To his surprise though, it never comes. Kevin is looking at him, tired smile firmly in place as he nudges a shoulder in Andrew's direction. Neil's mouth falls open, and yes, he's convinced now. It's a dream, it's all one big dream. Except--

Kevin shakes his head. It's not resigned, or worried. He's just happy for them both. He pushes Neil away, straightening his back in preparation for his fans. Royal snob. "Go on already. You guys are gross."

And despite the laugh that falls from his mouth, Neil's breathing stutters, and he hadn't realized how wound up he truly was until it happens. His lungs fill with air and he throws his racquet to the ground. His self-control is poor, they all know that. Encouragement is all he needs to break him and send him where he belongs.

He takes off in a full sprint towards Andrew as the rest of his teammates crowd Kevin, looking after Neil in confusion.

Huh, so his muscles still work after all. The tendons are on fire, but it's the least of his concerns. He runs like his life depends on it again, faster than he ran during that whole game.

And to Neil's absolute delight, Andrew's body language screams 'finally.'

The blond takes a step forward, throwing his racquet to the side like it's worthless. Oh. Andrew's bracing to catch him, and Neil laughs at the realization as he throws off his helmet. One day he'll actually make Andrew fall over, but for now he enjoys the strength.

He jumps into Andrew's arms effortlessly, feels calloused hands wrap around his waist as Neil reaches for the clips of Andrew's helmet. Despite knowing the barrier is there as he fumbles with it, he leans forward, lips grazing the metal guard. Andrew huffs, and Neil claws until the helmet clatters to the floor. He throws it a bit far, and it hits the goal post with a clang, but he doesn't care in the moment. If all eyes are on them now, he can't feel them. They're in a vacuum, a side effect of being so taken with Andrew at times. Unaware, vulnerable. The rush of sound from before goes dead around them. His fingertips can feel overheated skin, can trace the barely-there freckles on Andrew's face.

Andrew isn't in the mood to let Neil admire today.

Neil barely gets to see the color in Andrew's eyes before the goalie's hand grips in between Neil's shoulder blades, pulling him down.

It reminds him of their first kiss; Neil catches Andrew's lips and, as if not believing they're real, that something could feel so wonderful, he pulls back. His eyes widen, the first hit of a drug. He breaks the kiss only to dive right back in, uncoordinated but so sure of himself. And he doesn't get how, but Andrew smells the same as back then. Less like cigarettes, but the same smell of leather and earthiness. Neil doesn't read nearly as much as Andrew does to have the capability of describing it, but it's refreshing, like soil after the rain. Through the sweat and exhaustion, Neil would know him anywhere.

Andrew opens his mouth for him first, breath hot but movements predictable. Neil will tease him later for that. You're getting old. Because the dance is so familiar, the way Andrew pushes Neil's tongue back first. 'Come and get me.'

Neil obliges every single time, because he can't back down from a challenge, and maybe he's getting old too.

Neil knows the kiss can't last forever, especially not here, but he allows himself to pretend it's not the case. Andrew hums into him, and Neil's hands feel all the vibrations from where his hand slips down to Andrew's throat. It's bared completely for him, and Neil gives a little squeeze.

He sighs into Andrew's mouth when his boyfriend's eyes open to glare at him, pulling back before kissing Neil again, and then one more time, and maybe just once...

One more, Neil thinks, brushing his lips against Andrew's so lightly they stick for a moment, and he licks his own slowly when he pulls back for the final time. His heart beats in his ribcage, or maybe that's the pounding of the reporters' feet as they rush through the stadium, he's not sure.

Again, it's always best for him to not look at Andrew if he's supposed to be doing something else, because in that moment, the blond has all Neil's attention.

They're already pressed chest to chest, but Andrew squeezes tighter, almost painful, keeping Neil there through the flashing of cameras and shocked cheers.

And while Andrew's expression gives nothing away for the public, it speaks volumes to Neil.

--

Neil didn't know what old meant back then, now that his legs give out after a good walk or his spine aches under the weight of nothing.

But they were predictable, that much was true.

Neil isn't looking at the reporters anymore, too focused on trying to weave the fraying threads of the blanket back into place. From their silence, he can guess they're as shocked as he expected them to be.

Unaffected, Neil reaches over for his water, taking a sip as he confronts their slack jaws and wide eyes.

Now, that might have been a bit unfair of him as well, to jump into such a blatant romantic recollection about Andrew. Again, Neil never took interviews, rarely took questions, but the subject of his relationship with Andrew was especially off limits for decades. What they had was theirs, and only theirs, even after outing themselves that day.

People naturally tried to pry, tried to dig up their past in hopes of justifying what they saw as a nonsensical relationship or gossip fuel.

Neil made them fear for their lives after that.

He eviscerated publications, reporters, top sports officials, talk shows hosts, pretty much whoever he needed to. Anything to keep Andrew's name out of their mouths. A lot of them sealed their place in the land of irrelevancy, media outlets were slammed by a combination of their fans, and Kevin's too, once he stood up in support.

Andrew always hated it, Neil's desperate need to protect him from words that no longer phased him, but Neil didn't care. It was one of the only things they fought about in their adult years.

It worked though; soon, all the major outlets aside from the tabloids stopped talking about it, knowing mentioning it in any way that wasn't positive or neutral would land them in a ton of hot water.

Even those online sources who refused to let up eventually fizzed out from lack of material; they tried their best to be nosy, but pretty much got nothing but some rare paparazzi photos a few times a year of them kissing in the park or on a date.

In short, it's a bit of an unspoken rule that you don't talk to Neil Josten about Andrew Minyard unless you have nothing but good things to say, and a lot of people are too chicken shit to take the risk and potentially insult him. That's the only disappointing thing, none of them have a shred of courage. Neil really would talk all day about Andrew if people just approached it correctly.

Not that Andrew would've allowed it when he was alive.

Take that.

Despite all the fear Neil instilled in the media, it never stopped the other famous Foxes from talking about how gooey and devoted he and Andrew were, but Neil let that slide.

The things he does for family.

So it makes sense that these reporters seemed to have forgotten Andrew's importance at all, another offense. Not just because he was the best goalie in Exy history, but because Neil was first and foremost, Andrew's.

Blake's mouth opens and closes, pen dangling precariously from his hand. "Are...are we allowed to ask about Andrew?"

Blake even flinches after he asks it, afraid that perhaps it's only okay for Neil to bring up.

If you only knew.

Neil laughs, too relaxed to hold back anymore. The reporters stare, exchanging nervous glances with excitement tingling below the surface.

Yes, he supposes details about his relationship with Andrew are more secretive and sought after than even Neil's opinions. The reporters weren't even going to try.

But now, there's morsels of information dangling in front of them, and Neil need only give them permission. It's their lucky day.

Neil's smile fades into something gentler, wistful. It's the closest he gets now, to how he looked at Andrew. But it's still different, because that expression...

Well, Andrew is gone. What more is there to say?

Neil leans back, wringing his hands softly. "I guess it's only fair that I tell you the real reason I accepted this interview."

The reporters lean forward, holding their breath, but Neil doesn't feel like making them wait. It's all about Andrew now, like he wanted it to be. "I want to talk about Andrew, plain and simple."

Except when it's not.

Their relationship was anything but simple but Neil cherished each memory, and he wants to speak them aloud so no one forgets. He wants everyone to know how important this person was to him, so when he's gone and can't defend them, people can't speculate or taint it with their unasked for opinions.

"I've never had the opportunity to really reminisce about Andrew, not even with my family," Neil admits. He and Aaron and Katelyn would sit around the fireplace at their home sometimes, telling stories, or Kevin would send him old pictures or clips of Andrew playing. But never the intimate details, never the raw, and at times complicated feelings. "It never felt right, even after he was gone. I wanted to keep it close still, so I wouldn't betray Andrew's trust."

Neil takes a deep breath, and it shakes his small frame, a cough escaping his lungs. His voice is rough, but no less sure when he continues. "But I know now what he'd say to that. That I couldn't, even if my dumb Exy brain tried really hard."

But he'd never.

He smiles, wiping his eyes when they aren't even wet. That's another thing he misunderstood back then. Neil thought he couldn't cry, but he's sure today he'll prove his younger self wrong.

Rayah and Blake stay silent through all of Neil's pauses, and the respect means more than he can say. Andrew would approve, he'd be okay with Neil's choice. That's what matters most, he thinks.

"For once I just want everyone to know how I felt, I want to tell you everything as I saw and felt it, so you can tell everyone else," Neil says, and hopes they can read between the lines for the rest. Ultimately, when he's dead he'll be nothing but bones in the dirt, his legacy won't mean much in the long run. But...if nothing else, he wants this to remain, for as long as it can.

He never cared before about it, but he guesses age really can put a new perspective on things. Neil sighs, and taps the table with his finger for lack of anything better to do. When he looks back up, he has their undivided attention, Rayah's brown eyes shining with unshed emotion. None of that, not yet. "Anyways, now that you know I misled you, I hope you're still alright with listening to me ramble for the next few hours."

If not, they can kindly fuck off, but Neil has his suspicions at this point that they'll stick around. As much as Neil prides himself on reading people's intentions well, he's quite horrible at reading people's feelings. But maybe he's improved in that arena too.

A price for everything, he thinks ruefully, reminding himself there's a break in between this session for him to take his pain pills.

Eventually, it's Rayah who stutters a response. "Of course it's alright! We're so honored! And not just in the...bullshit way."

She closes her mouth immediately after at the unprofessionalism of it, but it only makes Neil feel more at ease. He smirks, satisfied. "Noted."

"Mr. Jo--Neil, we really are happy to write about you and Andrew but I have to admit," Blake says, flipping through his notepad with a tight look on his face. "The questions we did prepare as backup don't exactly lend themselves to anything about your life with Andrew."

It's precisely why Neil stated he'd mostly be doing the talking initially, but their first test question actually did end up helping move him along, so...

Neil shrugs, gesturing to the notebook with fierce determination.

These people are about to learn...

He can make anything about Andrew.

When he smiles at the two of them again, they must feel it deep down. They return it tenfold, and then Rayah clicks her pen.

And with the pleasantries out of the way, Neil opens up to everything he's been keeping locked away.

"Try me."

[iheartsunset]

Wally hcs? also do you do drawing requests?

Papa Louie Wally Hcs

(YES someone finally suggested Wally headcanons, I’m crying tears of joy I love Wally sooo much. Also, I’m not confident in my artistic ability and I’m also trying to focus more on not failing AP bio, so I’m gonna have to say that I cannot do drawing requests. Thank you for asking though!)

-Wally is a 72 year old retired environmental scientist and fisherman who lives with his grandson, Mitch, in a Tastyville apartment. He’s one of the oldest people in Tastyville, as well as kindhearted and sweet, something that earns him the title of “everybody’s favorite grandpa”. When he isn’t silently watching his nephew’s shenanigans or knitting in front of the television, he’s off to Sakura Bay and Calypso Island for fishing trips with Koilee’s uncle, Minato, and a short tempered gamer nicknamed Poof (Poofesure helped me get back into Papa Louie I love that dude).

-Wally’s wife, Elisa, and his son, Matt, along with his daughter in law, Abby, all passed away in a rafting accident (yes those names are wii sports references). Wally and Mitch were devastated by this, but have recovered well over the years. Wally still misses his family every day, and he’s finally convinced Mitch to allow portraits and pictures of them to be hung around the house. Wally still wears his wedding ring too and talks to the pictures sometimes like Mitch does.

-His personality is that of a typical sweet old man. He’s also pretty dense and trusts everybody around him, making him gullible, too. He once even signed up for the Flipline Bachelorette in search for a new best friend, not understanding that it was a romance show (he still got to like the final 5 cause he was so sweet and everyone loved having him around). He doesn’t like to try to use slang or anything to be cool with the kids, but he will be there as a shoulder to cry on if they have any problems. Wally is also really into cars and architecture, always going on drives and appreciating the history and work put into certain structures. Around Papa Louie however, he grows strangely distant and doesn’t seem very open.

-I feel like he knows about Papa Louie and Guy Mortadello’s past. This is why he is wary about the Tacomia, but since it seems to make Mitch very happy, he begrudgingly allows it. As for Papa and Guy, Wally likes to avoid interactions with them out of fear, although the two have no intention of hurting Wally if he spills their secrets. Wally might also know something about exactly what Guy Mortadello puts in his meat pies and what exactly is behind Flipline’s cold disappearance cases, but good luck trying to get that out of him.

-If Mitch or anyone around him is too cold, he will just tell them to wait and then knit them mittens, scarves, hats, and sweaters. Edna does this too, so if you’re near them both, it’s just an endless sea of yarn all around you even though you just want to go home and watch tv. Mitch has about 134 scarves from Wally, and he wears them all the time.

-He used to be pretty wild in his youth, having multiple tales of him beating people up, vandalizing property, having his fair share of girlfriends all at the same times, and even worse crimes. He’s probably just joking and making these stories a lesson to not cause trouble, but Allan thinks he’s seen an old photo of Wally wearing a leather jacket and having greased back hair, all with a bike to match.

-Sometimes when Poof Copland with Tohru, Wally plays along. He doesn’t understand lots of the games and will always die first, but he still has lots of fun. He’s especially bad at Among Us and Dead By Daylight, definitely as an imposter or killer, and just either outs himself immediately or just lets survivors win. Tohru would kill anyone else for doing this, but Wally is basically her grandpa, so she allows it.

-He definitely always encourages Maggie and Nick to work hard and achieve their dreams.

-He and James used to fix cars together. Wally still occasionally visits James at the Cupcakeria or shop to talk about cars for the longest time. Mitch can’t tell a mustang from a station wagon, but Mitch will also listen to the conversations.

-Cooper likes to call Wally to ask him to kill spiders for him. Wally doesn’t kill them, just lets them outside.

-Wally is absolutely beautiful and perfect and I love him he is the best sorry Taylor sorry Prudence sorry Koilee Wally is always my #1 favorite

[syms-things-5]

Clear The Area - Chapter Eight

Previous Chapter Here

Warning: Language. NSFW. Unprotected sex (be careful guys)

Notes: Apologies this is a little (a lot) longer than planned, but hope you enjoy it!

CHAPTER EIGHT

Chris knew this would more than likely be the last time he would see his friends for a while. The reshoots loomed ever closer, the knot in his stomach was getting tighter, and he was growing more and more unnerved at the prospect of what was lying ahead of him. He was determined to make the most of this night as much as he physically could.

He showered and made himself vaguely presentable, ignoring the navy Chanel sweater and trousers that had arrived earlier that morning and opting instead for a plain white tee and jeans. His favourite red belt made a special appearance. He began regretting his decision to allow his management team to redecorate his pad in order to make it “friendlier on the eye” as soon as he took stock of his open lounge. They’d shifted some of the furniture around, added some fresh flowers and balloons here and there, and taken down the photograph of a family trip to Disney that used to be hanging in the entrance hallway. There was also a distinctly sweet and fragrant smell of freesias wafting through the air. It smelled like Springtime and positivity. He hated it.

Just a few “unfiltered” photographs, they said. Nothing too intrusive of stressful. Now, however, they were looking to cover up the potential fall-out from his fling with Jenny after she’d helpfully announced the day before that she was starting divorce proceedings. Matt had taken to messaging him at half-hour intervals to remind him his house needed to be bustling with as many people as possible even if he didn’t know them all personally. He needed to look carefree, he was instructed, and unbothered by whatever may be going on in somebody else’s private life because it had nothing to do with him, right? Maybe flirt a little bit. Bring out the “big guns” and the Boston “bro” personality his fans loved to see. For God’s sake, just try to look as single as possible.

People weren’t due to start arriving until 7 but it didn’t stop Chris from drinking almost as soon as he had woken up, calling on Scott and a couple of his oldest pals to come and join him for some pre-party beers. 

“Woah.” said Gary, walking in closely behind Scott, carrying a crate of Budweiser. He rook one exaggerated sniff of the perfumed air surrounding him. “If I didn’t know any better I’d say we’d come to the wrong place!”

“Are we allowed to touch anything?” joked Scott, mocking him by tip-toeing in past the guys.

“Don’t ask. Just do whatever you like, please. I need it to at least feel like it’s still my home.” Chris scratched his head in disbelief. It looked more like something featured on the ‘gram of a would-be influencer than the home of a 30-something bachelor who had no time for soft furnishings and Feng Shui.

“Bro, it’s your birthday! You could at least look happy about it.”

Chris wasn’t drunk enough to muster much more than a half-smile at his brother at that point but figured a few more beers might encourage him to lighten up. He must have woken up on the wrong side of the bed. He was about to follow the lads into his kitchen when he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. If it was Matt bugging him one more time, he swore he’d throw the phone out of the window.

     Unknown 1.09pm

     Happy birthday sweetie. Can’t wait to see you again x

“Who’s that?” said Scott as he emerged from the kitchen, beer in hand.

Chris just shook his head. “I have absolutely no idea.”

Gradually as the hours passed by, a steady stream of people started making their presence known. Most parties Chris threw rarely went off as originally organised but he didn’t much care. It was always implied that his downtown apartment had an open-door policy when it came to friends and family turning up unannounced. Hell, many would stay for days at a time and he wouldn’t care. If he was holding a party or a game night, people could just show up whenever they felt like it even if Chris himself wasn’t awake or ready to greet them in person. 

The vibe soon started picking up and the music was louder now. Scott had made various playlists and was doing the duty of hosting people better than Chris, who had been glued to his phone on and off for most of the afternoon. More and more of his friends arrived with their partners and Chris would give them a bro-shake but pretty much leave them to it. It was...odd. He wasn’t sure what was going on but he was growing concerned that his brother wasn’t much enjoying his birthday celebrations. The table in the hallway was rife with gifts and cards, and the beer and alcohol levels were not in danger of diminishing any time soon. Chris had gone overboard on catered food but he himself had yet to touch anything. That was a danger sign, Scott thought. Last thing he needed was a drunk and melancholy actor on his hands this earlier in the evening. Thankfully, Chris perked up as soon as he saw his mom and Shanna arrive, and Scott breathed a sigh of relief.

“Hello darling. Happy birthday!” Lisa called out to him and embraced him in a typical motherly hug, all stretched arms and smiles, running her hand under his chin as he pulled away. “How is everything?”

“Yeh, all good. Thanks mom. You look great!” Chris moved in to kiss her on the cheek again before pulling back to allow Scott his turn. “Wow, Shan, I really didn’t think you could make that shade of yellow look even more grotesque but you did it!”

When she was sure Lisa couldn’t see her, Shanna flipped him the bird. Chris feigned offense before wrapping his arm tightly around her shoulders and walking her towards the lounge. “Baby sis, you can’t be mean to me on my birthday.”

“Ugh...I really can’t handle you when I don’t have a drink in my hand.”

“Then let’s fix that!”

Chris shifted past a few friends, all greeting him and patting him on the back as he and his sister moved by. Several faces he didn’t recognise so Matt would be proud of him, he thought. “So, is Sarah travelling separate to you guys?” Chris asked, finally taking one of the wrapped boxed out of his mom’s hands.

“I think so. Do you want these in the fridge or in the pantry for later?” Lisa asked indicating the cupcakes she’d been asked to pick up on the way over.

“Um, just leave them there for now, it’s fine.”

Before he got a chance to speak to his mother again, it was too late. He watched as she was grabbed by Josh and his new girlfriend and started to make her way around her son’s oldest friends, greeting them all as though she hadn’t seen them in years. Shanna reappeared next to him, rifling through the bottles of vodka until she landed on her favourite. 

“Is Sarah not coming then?” Chris asked, more concerned this time than no one seemed to know exactly where she was.

“Not if you’re going to continue being a dick to her, she’s not.” Shanna turned around to Chris’s fridge and began perusing the selection of mixers. “Where’s the cranberry juice?”

“It’s inside the door.” He responded. Shanna couldn’t see for looking but finally located the carton of juice and poured a fraction of what she needed into the glass before topping it up with a very generous amount of vodka. “I was kind hoping to apologise to her in person actually. Is she still really upset? She hasn’t answered my texts.” He rubbed the back of his neck.

“Well, you were out of like, Chris. But yes, she’ll be here, I’m sure. I think she just had something to do first.”

Chris knew Shanna was hiding something from him. She was a terrible liar.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” He grabbed the glass from her hands. “I am not looking after you tonight.”

“Don’t worry, Grandpa. I’ll make sure she gets home safe.” Scott reappeared alongside them, merrier than before and holding a small plate of food for Chris. “Why don’t you ‘mingle’ mingle? Your audience awaits, kind Sir.”

Just as Chris was about to protest, his phone vibrated again in his pocket.

Unknown 9.22pm

I hope you’re having a great time tonight. The party looks amazing! Can’t wait to catch up with you properly x

*

At some point around 10pm, Chris escaped. He retreated to his little hideout behind a tree that gave him a clear view of his property without the pressure of being spotted by anyone inside. His phone had buzzed a couple more times and he was now sure if was Jenny reaching out to him. She’d been leaving little heart emojis on some photographs that had already appeared online. He felt a little sick and just needed to get away from the crowds, now tipsier than he was, annoyingly. He took the cigarette he’d bunged from a friend and lit it, savouring the feeling. In that moment was possibly the calmest he’d felt all day.

“Who are you hiding from, birthday boy?” Chris knew it would be Scott who would find him eventually.

Chris shrugged. “No one. Just needed the air.”

“Yeh right. Mom knows you smoke by the way. No point hiding it now.” Scott took the cigarette and took a slow drag before handing it back to him. “Zach hates me smoking inside.”

“Is that why you started running?” Chris smirked.

“Running’s healthy. It’s all about balance.” Scott observed his brother for a moment. “What’s going on? You’ve been quiet all day. You’ve only had, what, three beers? That’s not like you.”

Chris shrugged unconvincingly, avoiding eye contact before his phone buzzed again. He quickly dove into his pocket to grab it but shifted uncomfortably when he saw who it was.

“Somebody’s keen.” Scott didn’t need to ask to know who it was. He could read his brother like a book. “Can’t believe she hasn’t got the message by now.” Scott continued to eye him, unsure of what was going through his head. “That’s not what’s got you down, is it? There’s nothing going on, is there?”

Chris glanced at his brother and shook his head. He knew he’d been caught out and at this point he was too tired to deny it. “I still haven’t heard from Sarah. I’ve tried apologising and it’s like she’s just ghosting me or something.”

“Stop being melodramatic. She lives with your sister. She’s not “ghosting” you, you dick.” His attempt to lighten the mood between them fell flat and he realised humour was going to be wasted on Chris this evening. “She’s got a lot on her plate right now, what with Charlotte and work and everything. Just give her a break, OK? It’s a tricky think she’s trying to navigate here.”

“I don’t know about that.” He shook his head slowly, crushing the cigarette under his shoe. “I said she was being ungrateful.”

Scott sighed. “Well, that’ll explain it. Hey, remember when Shan was a teenager and she got all those letters out of the blue?” Chris nodded at the distant memory. “I think the one thing we need to keep in mind here, with Sarah, is that she chose to reach back. She’s doing things her way and no one is forcing her. That’s gotta be a positive, right?”

*

Sarah felt like an idiot. She had no one to blame but herself. She couldn’t even lean on Shanna for support right now and she didn’t want to disturb Audrey at this hour if she was mid-celebration with Michael. She threw her coat on the stand and stood in the hallway of her apartment, bag swinging low. She kicked off her shoes and took off her tights to feel the coolness of the floor on the soles of her feet. It was a small comfort. The text message was still showing on her phone that was grasped in her hand as if she hadn’t been staring at it for the past three hours.

Charlotte 7.52pm

I’m so sorry. I thought I could do this. Please forgive me.

Sarah had decided to arrive at the venue a little earlier than they’d agreed to meet. She didn’t know what she was planning on doing by deciding that but she just knew she couldn’t sit around the flat any longer, her stomach was tied in knots. She hadn’t eaten much of anything that day but claimed she was saving herself for the extensive catering Chris would no doubt have laid on now that his guest list had multiplied.

She had spent some time getting ready with Shanna and Lisa but left her hair and make-up quite simple figuring she could add to it on the way to the party later on. She didn’t want to make an unfair first impression on Charlotte. She knew she didn’t want to look like she was a party girl but equally so, she didn’t want to appear to have given too much thought to what she was wearing to meet her in the first place. She wanted to remain as casual as possible which was some kind of weird irony given what was taking place.

She managed to make a relatively quiet exit as Lisa was helping zip up the back of Shanna’s jumpsuit telling them she’d be there as soon as she could. They didn’t ask her any questions. She just left and got into the cab that was waiting for her around the corner. A little under fifteen minutes later, she was outside the bar, trying to regulate her breathing. Maybe Charlotte was already inside? Maybe she had had the exact same thought and was having one for courage before they met? That thought made her laugh a little. She opened the door and gave her name to the rep who proceeded to show her to a nice booth in the far corner. Charlotte hadn’t arrived after all but Sarah had a clear eye on the door, as much good as it did her.

She poured herself another glass and wiped at the tears in her eyes. She couldn’t believe she had been reduced to crying over someone she had never met. She couldn’t believe she had allowed herself to assume everything would work out despite evidence to the contrary.

Everyone was right. She was a fool.

She heard the door go but couldn’t face seeing Shanna. She swiped at her face as much as she could, trying to remove any and all hints of her crying. Shanna told her once she was jealous of how she could cry without her skin getting all red and blotchy.

She clocked the time and realised it was perhaps a little too early for her to be coming home unless Scott had shoved her into a taxi, which wouldn’t have surprised her. Loud music and a free bar were Shan’s undoing. She composed herself and waiting for Shanna to appear in the doorway, worse for wear, but everything had gone silent. Sarah got up and walked out of the kitchen, not sure what to expect but certainly not expecting to find Chris stood with his back against the foot, keys dangling between his fingers. He seemed smaller somehow.

His expression briefly turned towards guilt when he noticed she had been crying. He made a move towards her before ultimately deciding against it, preferring to remain still in her hallway. He looked awkward which was a feat in itself for someone who always seemed so...cool, she thought. It didn’t last long, though, a steeliness soon returning to his eyes.

“Hey,” said Sarah diffusing the silence. She suddenly became hyper-aware she was in the Chanel dress he’d given her to wear for his birthday party, the party she should have been at hours ago but instead chose to blow off carelessly in favour of meeting somebody who really shouldn’t have mattered. Shit, she thought. She was a terrible friend. “I’m so sorry, Chris. I really don’t know wh-”

“-You know, I could have done with seeing you there, Sarah. It’s been a fucking terrible day, I’ve had my team hounding me over this Jenny bullshit and having my friends around me would have made all the difference.”

“I just,” she wasn’t sure where to go from here. He’d become so cold in the last few moments. She wasn’t really expecting it but knew she’d pushed her luck a little too much this evening. “I had something I needed to do first, and-”

“I don’t ask for much from my family but the one thing I do expect is that they turn up when they say they’re gonna turn up. You understand me? It’s my fuckin’ birthday after all and you couldn’t even manage that.” He moved past her, ignoring the tears now burning at the corners of her eyes.

“Alright Chris, you’ve made your point.” she whispered. The room felt too small and Chris looked like he’d grown a foot out of pure frustration. She just wanted to go to bed and forget this day ever happened or at least get Chris to leave so she could feel pathetic in peace.

She could detect a faint small of tobacco coming from his breath now he was standing closer to her. “What was so important that you couldn’t make it? Must have been amazing to blow us off like that and please don’t tell me it was Greg. I didn’t think you of all people would sack family off for some fuck you’re ambivalent about at best.”

She felt like a scolded child. Actually, no, it felt worse than that. It felt like he was picking at her, trying to get some kind of reaction out of her but what that reaction was, she didn’t know. She took a breath and calmed herself. Her hands were shaking. She was pretty sure he noticed now.

“It wasn’t like that,” she said, as calmly as possible. “I’ve said I’m sorry, Chris. I didn’t think it was that big of a deal, OK? Your family and friends were there and I was planning on dropping by.” She pleaded, her tone striving to be a little more even. She figured if she tried reasoning with him instead of pushing back it might allow them both to get out of this unscathed but he just scoffed.

“Dropping by? Well, gee, thank you for making me an afterthought, Sarah. I really appreciate that.”

“It’s not just you that’s had a crap night, OK?” She shouted before reigning herself in. She really didn’t want to fall out with him on top of everything else. “We all have shit to deal with. At least people turned up to see you. They care about you. They didn’t just leave you hanging around, wondering what you’d done wrong.”

Chris looked confused. He signed and placed his hands on his hips, unsure of what his next move would be. “What’s going on?”

She could feel herself tearing up again, her face getting hotter by the second. She hated crying in front of people and it invariably gave her a headache, one she’d most likely fail to overcome before bedtime. “I arranged to meet her this evening. I didn’t want to say anything to anyone until I’d seen her at least once but, um, she didn’t show.”

For once, Chris didn’t have any answers. If he had been thoughtful instead of the selfish asshole he recognised himself to be, he would have known to have shut his goddamn mouth. “Fuck, Sarah. I...I don’t know what to say. I’m so sorry.” He took another step closer to her but she made no effort to react towards him. “You don’t deserve this.”

Sarah audibly scoffed. “Well, that’s a maybe. But hey, look, happy birthday! Looks like you were right all along! I’ll make sure to wrap it next time.”

“If I’d have known what you’ve been through today, I would have shut my mouth. You’re one of my best friends and I was just thinking of myself, like always.” He leaned against the doorframe and Sarah recognised how pathetic they both looked in that second.

“What kind of person do you have to be to reject someone twice?” Sarah whispered to herself more than anything. She gently banged her head against the doorframe in thought. She wasn’t looking for a response.

Silence passed between them for what felt like hours. They were good at being quiet around each other, neither feeling the need to dispel energy and not caring what the other was doing but this didn’t feel like those times before. She glanced across the doorway at him but didn’t recognise what was looking back at her so intently. He looked like he’d been suspended in motion and if it wasn’t for her tapping her foot on the wall behind her, she would have thought she had, too. Everything just seemed a little fuzzy now and there was a headache threatening her from behind her eyes.

Before she could move again, Chris had crossed what little space there was between them and went for her, his hands grabbing her face and pulling her into him. It was messy at first, their lips slightly out of line with each other and she couldn’t think, she couldn’t breathe. He’d taken the breath straight from her, it felt like. The only thing she could do in that moment was to grab back at his hands that were holding her face but she didn’t feel like pulling them away. Not just yet. For the first time, she had some power over what was happening to her. She was tired of being a good person, being vulnerable for others to use whenever they felt like.

She felt his lips slowly move across hers, calmer now, while she stayed almost still in his grasp. She felt one hand leave her face and reappear on her lower back and he pulled her in to bring her closer. They must have occupied less than a square foot of space stood like this. Everything was silent apart from what Sarah assumed was her heart beating or perhaps that was his? She couldn’t separate them at this point, a perfect fit soon only disturbed by the shrill buzz from someone’s phone in their nearby vicinity.

“Fuck!” Chris whisper-shouted pulling away from her, biting his bottom lip. Sarah scrabbled around to find her bag in the hallway before signing when she saw who it was. She took a breath so as not to give the game away.

“Shan? No, it’s fine, honestly.” Chris could only hear one side of the conversation as she spoke on the phone but could instantly tell from Sarah’s inability to get a sentence out that Shanna was drunk and giving her the third degree. He wanted to grab the phone and smash it against the wall. “No, it’s no problem. Don’t worry, OK? Yes. Yes, I’ll see you in a bit. Alright. Bye, lovely.”

Sarah had turned away from Chris at this point and looked down at the phone in front of her. She pursed her lips, embarrassed that she could still feel him on her. She thought she might have been imagining things but that was definitely his hand gently touching her on her hip where he’d held her just moments ago. She turned around to face him but one look into his blue eyes and she felt like she was going to collapse on the floor. She was pretty sure he could feel her shaking but he kept his grip on her, trying to work out what she was thinking. She just shook her head slowly and in confusion at what transpired and walked out of the kitchen, down the hall to the bathroom hoping to get some privacy and some cold water on her face.

She didn’t get very far. Chris followed her and grabbed her wrist, swinging her back towards him until she crashed against him again, unsteady on her feet. There was no time to think before his lips were on hers again, harder than they were before. He had his arms around her waist and started walking her backwards towards...something, she couldn’t register what. 

She briefly resisted his movements but after a few steps or so he made do with the wall next to her bedroom doorway. He pressed her hards against it, his hands now back cupping her face. She could feel how hard he had become with the way he pushed his crotch into her in an attempt to keep her still against him. She knew she didn’t want to break away again, she was tired of fighting and was ready to let it just wash over her. She grabbed at his sweater with both fists and moaned into his kiss.

She shoved him until he felt his back meet the opposite wall. The groan that left him was nothing short of filthy and something inside her snapped when she felt his hands fist in her hair while the other slipped down to grip her ass. She felt him pull up the hem of her dress, his fingers gently skimming the back of her thighs. He grabbed at her just underneath her ass and pulled her against him harder than before until they lost their balance and she ended up on top of him as he slid down the wall and hit the hard wood floor beneath them. They’d have bruises tomorrow but they didn’t care.

He desperately grabbed at the hem of her dress again, this time to feel her soft skin between her thighs. Her skin was so smooth and not to the touch, he couldn’t bear it. She felt like she was on fire. He managed to pull her panties to one side but she felt them rip as she furiously gripped at the belt on his trousers. He worked out pretty quickly what she was trying to do and took over for them both to release himself as quickly as possible. In one move he placed her where he wanted her. He heard her sharp intake of breath and looked up just in time to see the look of pleasure on her face as he entered her, perhaps harder than he had intended to but she didn’t seem to mind.

Her eyes closed. He could see the blush covering her skin and her neck and he reached out to pull her face back to him as he motioned for her to move on top of him. He filled her, thrusting into her as much as he could from this angle and briefly regretted not keeping them up against the wall. He knew it would be over in a matter of seconds at this rate. They were both struggling to feel something. Make something of this godawful day.

He couldn’t take his eyes off the way she was moving. He felt her wavering slightly as he quickly approached his own release, her eyes open now and looking down at him. Their staggered breaths were the only sound filling the space. He was so close and he knew she would be too but he couldn’t ignore the look of fear growing apparent on her face. The glazed look in his eyes felt like electricity coursing through her veins. She didn’t know it could feel as exciting as it did to be encouraged along by him like this, his hands firm on her hips, gliding her up and down, keeping him firmly inside her. She had to look away and she began to move faster, slightly out of rhythm now, scraping her knees against the floor on either side of him, pain that only served to heighten the pleasure.

She could feel him throbbing inside her as his legs began to shake and his breathing quickened. The sound of them both hitting the floor over and over again only served to push her on even more against her better judgement. It was too late to stop now. They would just have to deal with the consequences another time.

He tried to hold off from his own orgasm for as long as possible. He wanted more than anything to see her hit her peak as he held her hips tighter and moved her so she could take him harder. One of her hands pushed back against the wall behind him in order to find purchase and it was this move that ultimately caused them both to hit the point of no return.

He didn’t know who came first but it didn’t matter. After a few moments, their breathing started to even out, their skin showing that unmistakable sheen of sweat that only sex could give. Without thinking, he wrapped one arm around her waist and stroked the strands of hair out of her face. He wanted her to look at him as she continued to get her breathing under control but her eyes were too tightly shut. He look scuffed up from their actions and his pupils were blown wide open. She couldn’t even imagine the state she was in. If he could have found a little strength to speak in that moment, he would have told her she was more beautiful than he’d ever seen her look before. Perhaps wisely, he decided to save that for another time.

Oh fuck.

Sarah’s brain went into overdrive as she gradually came back to reality. Chris was trying to figure out what was going through her mind as he felt her slip off him and shuffle herself to the side, pulling the hem of her dress down in a rather redundant effort to protect her modesty. Her underwear was left wrapped around one ankle as she tried to move onto her knees to stand up. She wiped at her mouth with the side of her hand and in that moment, he thought she might start crying again.

“Fuck.” She rubbed her face with her hands. He didn’t think she meant for him to hear that. It was the last thing he thought he would hear her say. He made a grab for her hand but she avoided his grasp as she stood and, on shaky legs, walked back into the kitchen leaving him ruined on the floor against the wall, shaken in more ways than one.

She couldn’t register her surrounding. She felt like she was about to throw up. How could this have happened? How could she be so stupid?

She held herself as she contemplated all the things she would need to say to him to try and make this better. No words made sense in her mind and those that did, she could barely string together to form coherent sentences. She heard Chris enter the room behind her but he stopped just inside of the doorway seemingly as unable to speak as much as she was. This was bad, she thought. So fucking bad. She felt embarrassed when she eventually clocked his messed-up hair. He looked dazed by the whole thing. No doubt his back would be bearing the brunt of their heavy mistake.

she finally reached his eyes and was met with a shy smile and a look she didn’t quite recognise. Was it pity? Concern? Regret? All of the above most probably, she couldn’t quite tell.

“Sarah,” he whispered, swallowing. “I’m....” He took a couple of steps forwards, holding his hand out to reach her, offering what he thought would be some kind of solace.

“I think you need to get back to your party,” She said calmly, deflecting the situation, tears forming in her eyes.

“Sarah, please, I don’t want...”

“People are going to be wondered where you are, Chris. You should go.”

Chris tried to focus on her face in an attempt to find something there other than the shame she was failing to hide. He wished he could get to her but the space she was putting between them felt wider than the kitchen they were stuck in. Resigned, he bowed his head slowly and turned to leave half expecting, or possibly wanting, her to stop him.

*