#he's your brother he's a stranger he's all you had you & you have to relearn who he is--- i gotta lay down. jesus christ

[katabay]

some sam drakes :)

nate's theme 4.0 came up on my playlist while I was working on commissions and oh boy. that piano line about a minute in to it still gets me emotional shshdshs

[kitcat22]

Consumed with thoughts on Earendil, Elwing and their relationship with their sons and grandchildren.

Like… you lose your children. At first you think they are dead, that they have been murdered in cold blood, slaughtered by monsters like so many innocent children before them. You agonise over it, imagining there last moments, if they knew what was happening, how scared they were, if they thought nanna and ada would save them. You grieve and you mourn, you rage at the injustice and rally against it, you tear down one of the evils that loomed of your children their entire life and wish you could take vengeance on the other.

You think that if your children do meet the fate of elves and you pray that they do, you will see them reborn into a world that is safe for them, devoid of hunger and fear and lurking monsters.

But then your children are alive. They survived. They lived as prisoners, hostages and if rumours are to be believed as the adoptive sons of their captors. All this time you thought they were dead not knowing they were waiting on you to rescue them. You did not know that the monsters had kept them and you do not know what the monsters did to them while they had them.

When you learnt this it felt like the world had stopped that you have been left to hold your breath in anticipation for what is to come. You wait by the docks and you listen to the rumours and messengers that pass through them. You fill your tower with all of the things you knew they loved. You paint their walls with murals and make sure their beds are always prepared. In the end though, the seats you prepared for them at your dinner table remain empty for millennia. That is how long it takes for your child to return to you.

Child singular because though both of your children managed to make it through the horrors that formed their lives, only one chose to continue surviving. The news of this hurts, hurts so deeply you think it might never stop hurting. You have felt this pain before but it has not dulled since then, perhaps it has worsened.Once you had a child that you knew like the back of your hand, then he became an adult that you didn’t know, and the he became nothing but memory and history books. You will never get to relearn him personally, that chance is beyond you now by your child’s own choosing. You wonder if he thought of you when he made that choice, whether he knew how much it would hurt. Still, he made the decision he thought best for himself and for that you are proud even in your pain.

The child that returns to you, that beautiful precious child that you could not protect, returns to you as an adult. Like with his brother you missed every moment of his life. You missed his first love, his coming of age, his marriage, the birth of his children. He comes to you almost a stranger.

You can still see who you knew him to be, you see the curiosity of a child that liked to stick his head in books and ask a thousand questions and you see the kindness and empathy of a little boy who wept endlessly at broken winged birds, taking them in his small hands and singing sweet little tunes until they were healed. Now though he seems to be broken winged bird in his own right. The years and all of their burdens have weighed heavy on him, his face may be ever youthful but his fea seems ancient and most of his early time in Aman is spent resting and recovering. He does not know you either, he is unfamiliar with you and though sociable and friendly he seems just as lost as you.

He comes without his daughter. It is a strange thought on its own for your baby to have hits own baby but to know that his own child has been lost to him and you is a pain all too familiar. Here is another granddaughter you will never know to go with all of your dead son’s long dead children. Your grandsons do at least come home eventually but it makes your heart twist uncontrollably to look at them, to see two identical faces and not want to weep for what you have lost.

It does get better eventually. Your son heals, the weight on his shoulders lightens and he walks and dances and sings in merriment once more. You memorise his favourite foods and when you cook them for him and he receives these meals with fondness in his eyes. He tells you of his life, all of the awful parts but all of the good parts too and by the end you think you know him again. You no longer flinch when you look at your grandsons and they are no longer so uncomfortable around you. When you tell your own memories they mock your age but listen wide eyed. Your dinner table is occupied and noisy for the first time in its existence. You sit on the golden beaches outside your home watching your son throw his own sons around in the ocean while they all laugh endlessly and the world seems to be colourful again. You think this must be what it is to be content.

[vendettasfanfictioning]

Since I can't, y'know, shut my mouth, I decided it's better to make a whole ass post about this so thank you @juniperjello for asking.

Here are my Top 13 Destiel Traxx AKA Fic Recs:

And This, Your Living Kiss (M) is a GODSEND I've read this more times than I can count, I even have NerdyNerdenstein's podfic of it saved on my phone, it is that good. It stars poet! Dean relearning his love for the arts and Literature professor! Castiel, whose favorite author just so happens to be Jack Allen (AKA Dean). I also love love loved the family dynamics here, it's all so homey and cozy. The poetry in this is stunning too. Highly recommend this one!

A Thousand Lies (E) follows con artist! Dean on his latest assignment of unraveling rich businessman! Crowley's secrets by playing as his secretary, all the while juggling dates with accountant! Castiel. Except there's more to them than meets the eye, and the plot gets thicker and thicker until you find yourself stuck to your phone for more than 4 hours, hopping from one chapter to the next. Yes that's exactly what happened to me lmao I was hooked, and stories like these where the angel fam are humans are always so fun. I love spotting the parallels and whatnot.

(goldenraeofsun, author of the previous fic, has a ton of fics I highly recommend so if you vibe with their style, go check out their account! I was torn about what to put here between "The Original Apple Pie Latte", "Not the Fire, but the Spark" and this—also I'm pretty sure I have half of their works bookmarked by now 😭)

Forget-Me-Not Blues (E) has all the correct vibes of a classic early 2000s romcom. It's set in Sam and Jessica's wedding, with Dean as the former's best man and Castiel as the latter's. Oh, and did I mention they have history? A particularly roughly-broken high school love story? That they absolutely refuse to acknowledge so now the wedding prep is so full of tension it's choking everybody? Yeah... This is a good one.

An Exercise In 'Worthless' (M) is one of the first destiel fics I've ever read. At that point, I was only on S2 or S3 and had no idea what was happening or who most of the other cast was, but the vibes were immaculate and reading it again as I progressed through the show, it just kept getting better. It's got tattoo artist! Dean whose shop is set up beside Gabriel's cafe (it's called the Physical Graffitea heh). It's got grad student! Castiel attending the same uni as Sam for a niche course in dialects. It's got Dean thinking Cas is more interested than Sam (missing the heart eyes Sam and Gabe are giving each other). It's got family feels!!!!!! as these four idiots live normal, non-supernatural lives!!!!!!!

Kissing Strangers (T/E) is a happy(!!!!!) queer awakening story, wherein Castiel realizes he's not as straight as he thought when he gets kissed by Dean for a social experiment. There's actually three fics in the series, the first one covers The Kiss while the next two are insights on the progress of destiel's relationship. It's really neat, and the author—sharkfish—has a lot of fics I've been reading this past week. (They have a lot of good ace! dean and/or ace! cas fics!!!!!!!!!!)

In Due Time (Dean Winchester is Saved) (T) is not only touching as hell but also mind-blowing. 26-year-old Dean is zapped to the future by an unknown power, and what does he see? Himself, happily settled; married to an angel of the frickin' lord with a son; and his brother, still hunting. THIS FIC IS AN ABSOLUTE GEM!!!! Baby Dean interacting with Cas means So Much to me.

Broadway Musical (T) is, in my humble opinion, an absolute banger and a classic. It's got the fun, lighthearted tone of a romcom and my favorite trope of "they may all be dicks but at least there's no murder" with the angel family. It's a reimagining of the first ever Armageddon: what if, instead of being the Righteous Man himself, Dean was chosen to father the two brothers of old with Jo Harvelle, with the entire Host of angels excitedly chattering about it in heaven. Except the cupid's arrow doesn't sink in, to either Dean or Jo, and they don't fall in love. So good ol' Cas comes down to take matters into his own (awkward) hands.

Sand and Salt (E) continues off of S9 fallen angel! Castiel. The timeline is important to me for two reasons, namely: Kevin and Charlie. Destiel are highlighted at the second half but the first is just Sam, Dean, Kevin, and Charlie helping Cas settle in as a human. They go to a mall to shop and eat and bond and they are so, so precious to me.

Carnival Oasis (E) is a series as well, but it's honestly SO worth it. We have creature! Castiel who eats sin and extremely guilty! Dean who first confessed his sins to Cas as a way to gauge what the fuck he is. But then he kept coming back. They get all gooey and shit here, as they should be. Plus the reveal on Cas' background??? It made me go insane I swear.

Convenient Husbands (E) is honestly just. So good. I've reread it multiple times over the past few weeks and it never gets tiring. This one's about hunter! Dean and Garuda! Castiel forming a marriage bond... Purely for convenience, of course. I'm also obsessed with the set-up of the hunting community in this AU, they got a whole network and base and it's awesome you should definitely read it. (Annie D also has a lot of fics on AO3 that you should check out—I'm very partial to "It's Always the End of the World Somewhere"!!)

This Witch!Cas AU series is based off of probably my most favorite story prompts to ever trend in Tumblr history: it's about witch! Cas who's moved to town after his grandmother's passing. Madame Novak's will is all that everyone's talking about, as it states that Castiel needs to marry to not only inherit the estate but also to keep his magick. Gardener and shopkeeper! Dean finds this tasteless, what with everyone treating Cas like he's just some prize and not, y'know, a person. Then, Castiel makes an announcement: he ties the key to the estate to his cat's collar, and whoever gets the key may take his hand as well. Everyone scrambles to chase after the surprisingly smart feline... except for Dean, who's slowly warming up to the little guy, and the cat to him in return.

it's brighter now (G/T) is actually a series but!!! It's a babyjackverse like come on, how can you resist that? This speaks for itself and it says all you will ever need in a fic, which is BABY JACK!!!!!!!!!!

conversations between brother & sister (T) is, simply put, criminally short but perfectly encapsulated my ideal ending for Supernatural. It's two fics; the first is about Jack and Emma, and the second is about Jack and Claire. The reason this is here is because I am a firm believer that this deserves more recognition and love and we need more AUs like this. Destiel are so, so tender and sweet but the main focus is, of course, Jack's conflicting feelings. I would leave a hundred thousand kudos on this if I could.

[nemesis-is-my-middle-name]

Man, I was holding it together so well, and then Ingo broke and I just lost it. It's been ten minutes and I'm still crying. That was just so perfect, and I love it so much, but it's so painful how much Ingo was keeping inside and how much they were both holding back, because that's what they thought the other wanted.

Emmet's like, well he doesn't actually know me anymore, and even though it hurts like hell it does make sense if he needs time to be comfortable around me again. And Ingo just... doesn't know anyway else to be. It was never really a problem in Hisui, based on the last one, because he felt pretty indifferent to the distance between himself and literally everyone else. They were all wrong, they weren't what he wanted and he had no way of clearing that hurdle. But now, now, he finally has what he's wanted so desperately for so long, and he has no idea if how close he wants to be is too much, too overbearing. So he falls back on what he knows, not realizing it's making them both unhappy and it feels Wrong because it is wrong for them.

Your Emmet continues to be my all time favorite version. I love him so much, you just Get It. One thing I cannot stand in fics is whenever they have Emmet trying to change Ingo back to how he used to be, even though it's clear that Ingo for many reasons can't go back to that and is being hurt every time Emmet does it. But this!! Emmet is understanding of Ingo's changes and why they needed to happen, is willing to accommodate almost all of them, and isn't trying to force Ingo to hurry up and remember things or just forget his entire life and experiences in Hisui. He's not putting Ingo's needs above his own, that's why they have this talk in the first place, but he loves Ingo and so is okay with putting in the mutual effort to relearn how to live together. The only thing he can't deal with is Ingo not talking to him anymore. He can't help if he doesn't know, he can't rebuild anything between them if Ingo is refusing to open up. Also, ouch ouch ouch at all of the hurt he's hiding when he thinks Ingo doesn't trust him or like how direct he is, because Emmet can't be anyone but himself. What you see is what you get, and if Ingo doesn't like that anymore...

And then the hug!! Brb, crying forever and I may never recover. The way Ingo tried to pull back, only for Emmet to pull him in tighter, just like Ingo needed but couldn't say, is just everything to me. The relief Emmet felt at finally feeling like they've well and truly found each other again. They both needed that so, so much. All that time spent hurting in silence and they only needed like a single conversation to clear one giant misconception up. Emmet knows the value of open and honest communication with each other, and I hope this helps Ingo understand that again too.

;w; THANK YOUUUU.... this is so nice i cri. i love to know i have Inflicted Emotions... tysm...

YEAH... augh "They were all wrong, they weren't what he wanted" that's SUCH a good way of putting it. it was like, he just couldn't. care abt engaging with anyone, really. like, emmet calls him a "structural support" in the last one right, and i feel like that's pretty accurate for both of them. if ingo doesn't have his brother, like, there's nothing else he can do. engaging with the strangers he's wound up stuck with is so far down on his list of Things He Has The Capacity To Think About. but that doesn't mean he wouldn't have welcomed some kind of companionship, like he does eventually bond with sneasler and his team at the very least—he just couldn't put the effort into learning how to navigate this new set of rules and get closer to anyone because he didn't have that one solid, dependable connection to fall back on. like now i'm getting Very Off Topic but i think that's a big part of why both of them can be so sure of themselves and confident normally, bc they know their brother, at the very least, will always back them up. so suddenly losing that is. Really Tough.

i know i say this every time anyone tells me about Other Emmets but WHY ARE THEY SO WRONG ABOUT MY BLORBO. PAIN AND ANGUISH. like... that's SO wrong for so many reasons... these two are fucking pair bonded since birth and platonic life partners that not even Actual God can truly separate and know each other so fucking well and. not to get off topic in a different direction again but i DO think that, one, the foundation of their relationship is trust and communication and they've been working on that since forfuckingever. and that's where i try to come at them from when i write them together (which i... haven't done or posted enough sigh) is that even when they really disagree they're never going to like, fight, or hold it against the other, or even like not address it and just be silently passive aggressive. that's not how they work, at all. and two, another thing that i need to do something with at some point but i think their life in unova is something they Built, extremely intentionally, to make somewhere they could be happy. so like. considering all that. emmet would be willing to MOVE MOUNTAINS to fix shit. he is more than happy to change he just needs ingo to fucking. talk. to. him.

but then obviously ingo's forgotten all of that! which is why it's so goddamn painful!! like emmet's worried that for some reason ingo now like, won't let him be blunt/direct or be hurt by it, which, to circle back to what i said earlier about structural supports, would mean he functionally lost that unconditional support even tho he technically does have ingo back. but it's not even about anything emmet's doing! it's just ingo's learned reaction of pearl clan avoidance that leads to that like, learned flinch response, even tho it doesn't actually bother him specifically, and obviously they're in a situation where it doesn't matter bc it's just the two of them and both of them would be way happier just talking it out. but he like, can't turn it off anymore, at least not until he acknowledges that he's actually doing it. and ironically also not until emmet flat out tells him that he can stop. i could make some obvious parallels here to the way unforgiving nt socialization fucks non-nt people up but like. yall get it already right. the dots are there just connect them

ANYWAY. that was a lot of rambling i am going to. stop now. but YEAH I CARE THEM

[shimmerbeasts]

“Hey there, Knight,” Karlach lightly called out toward Wyll, glancing over his visage as he sat alone. She noticed the shimmer of his rapier, a gleam against the fire that he sat next to. His horns protruded from his forehead, gleaming with the onyx hue, though she wondered if he had oiled them at all. Why hadn’t she thought of that before? He would need some guidance on how to handle these recent changes. Every young tiefling when their horns started to emerge was sat down and taught the basic knowledge of horn care. Brushing, washing, and oiling them up to ensure they did not become brittle or suffer drying out and warping. His tail twitched from side to side, a lazy thump of the blue tip that read eerily familiar to Mizora’s.

She settled down next to him, glancing at the massive paws on his feet, no doubt having to get used to the sudden change of feet to paws. The concept of having feet was completely foreign to her. She had always had hooves despite her parents having normal feet. Still, going from feet to those massive paws must have been difficult as his balance and center of gravity shifted. “You know, you new look is pretty epic, if I had to say so.” Had anyone told him that? Yes, what happened must have been a hell of a change, but Karlach could only see how amazing it looked. Those horns, the tail; he was just like her!

So she saw nothing terrible, nothing that made him look horrifying or terrible. To her, in some ways, he was more of a brother than ever before. “Have you treated your horns yet? I noticed they are looking a little dull, not sure if you know anything about horn care?” Karlach offered, not wanting to impede his intelligence in case he did now, but showing her offer to help him in this new transition.

His rapier, his oldest and most trusted friend, the one item, his father, Duke Ulder Ravenguard had trusted him with when he was barely old enough to handle a sharp object, much less a full-blown weapon, felt wrong in his hands now. Even though these limbs were still his own, his hands felt like they belonged to a stranger. Mizora's transformation had hardened them and his nails now ended in sharp claws, sickles each in their own right. His hands could not properly close around the grip of his rapier. At least not in the same familiar way, he had done so for seven years.

As Wyll twisted his hand around and turned the rapier up and down, watching the firelight reflect off the stainless steel, he could not get the feeling of him holding a weapon in his hands out of his head. The rapier did not feel like an extension of his arm anymore. Every move he had trained himself to do, he would have to relearn all over again.

Fencing had been a sport, in which Wyll had taken great pride and joy. It had been the one aspect of his life, his father had continuously praised and encouraged, saying he would be one of the greatest swordsmen in the Flaming Fist someday. It had made him feel closer to the man, who had often seemed far away and unreachable.

Mizora had taken that away from him for now and removed something, which so distinctly made the Blade the Blade. Wyll stopped bending his arm around and leaned his rapier against his thigh. He flicked a finger against the large, uncanny dog tooth tied to the handle of his rapier with a string. It bounced back and forth under his touch. His tail drummed on the ground in sadness and frustration. Mizora expected him to figure things out. She always did.

He had been so deep in his thoughts, he had not even noticed Karlach approaching him. "Hmm?", he said looking up at her before the fiery Tiefling plopped herself down beside him. "Hey, Karlach." His healthy eye could not help but stare down at her hooves as she sat down. His paws flexed their toes as if in a subconscious response. Her hooves at first had convinced him more than anything that she was a devil, likely a Baatezu, one of the most common types of devils. If he had mistaken her for a Baatezu, then what did his chimeric appearance make him? Was he a Hellbeast like the creatures, Mizora had in hordes in her menagerie? Or was he a Baatezu as well? Or something else entirely?

"You think so?!"

Wyll could not hide the surprise in his voice when Karlach complimented him on his new appearance, going so far as to call his new look epic. He nervously plucked at his claws with his hands and squished the soil beneath his paws. His tail did a tentative little wag as if the mere idea of regarding this chimaera of a being as something positive was too outlandish to even consider. He met the Tiefling's glowing, yellow eyes and an awkward smile flitted across his lips.

"Thanks", Wyll stuttered, "I had not thought of it like that." His healthy eye peered in the direction of his horns. His hand felt over the large curve and the hard keratin, which was interrupted by small rills, he could make out with his fingers. The young warlock shook his head and admitted: "I am afraid not, Karlach. I know how to cut off or break off someone's horns, but that is as far as my knowledge goes. To be honest, I never had to concern myself with the idea of horn care. Until now that is..."

[lifewiththelulus]

Omg Braise helping Kindlin relearn how to speak firish more fluently She's very rusty when they first meet lol

After a few months of improvement and hanging out he asks her if she would like to come visit fire land with him for the holidays Kindlin feels so bad about asking Cirrus if she can go at first, but she really does wanna see fire land at least once in her life. And Braise seemed pretty excited for her to meet everyone there. He lives with a lovely little family where he's the oldest of 3 siblings lol Now 4

Cirrus is a little scared to leave the country, especially one where she doesn't even know the language, but will do so for her.

She knows it's a big ask and is honestly a little worried about her getting hurt in a place not built for air people

I thought about it being a rare condition to have some magnesium fire and theres spiritual beliefs it means your favored by the blue flame.

Blue Fire people are said to be direct descendants of the blue flame. Maybe people with this condition are sought after by them to join their family, a lesser part of the family but still a part. Most people decline due to how cutthroat it is to live with that family and all their restrictions. That doesn't mean the more committed members of the family won't try to pester them relentlessly about it.

If anything Flicker isnt really comfortable with all the praise and attention. Even if hes too young to understand it all he doesnt like the eyes and expectations from peers

What if noticing that makes Kindlin afraid of sharing about her life at home Earth parents, air wife, smoke children, she wasn't ashamed of them at all But she was by herself in a place she's never been with practically strangers who seemed to hold some sort of judgement

She doesn't bring them up until braise mentions he met her wife and kids and how lovely the little smokies are He's all excited to be an uncle no matter the element type, and his family shares his enthusiasm She ends up showing them pics of her and Cirrus and the kids, Birch and Sequoia, Sprout, and all her friends All kinds of elements They really just seem happy that Braise isn't alone in the big city

Yeee You think flicker would also be adopted?

I wouldn't mind if you think it helps your story

That might lead to a question of was I adopted because I was born like this and you think it'll favor you.

Hecc ok I think they all might be adopted tbh His Mom would definitely quiet that fear if she could Maybe she has a little blue flame that she hides And she shows him "I wanted to give you a happy normal life, you are my son, nothing more, nothing less."

Yeah I already figured all that attention came from the community and not from the family. They live with him they know all of his fumbles and faults he's not higher he's their family member

To them he's simply their little flicker

I like to think they called him that because his flame was so weak as a child. But a flicker of hope is strong and so is their son

Oof What if They find out Kindlin doesn't have a blue flame for her family So they find a lantern and they send her home with one using theirs because she's officially part of the family now 😭

Oof Braise is a very protective older brother, especially when they take in flicker and he happens to be so small

Braise is probably a good 5 years older at least

So I'm thinking maybe she wears arm length gloves because her hands are blue Would that make sense y'all think? She says it's because she has trouble controlling her temperature but really she doesn't like the attention her hands bring So when she saw little flicker she knew she had to scoop him up because he deserved a normal life and a family that could look past his flames

[lifeslittleinnuendos]

What's the hardest lesson life has taught you so far?

Love Hurts

Love hurts when you’re 4 years old and hungry. The lights from the upstairs bedroom at 2 in the afternoon are off, door closed, drapes pulled tight. Dark. Depressed. So she opened the fridge and pulled out the package of hot dogs, climbed onto the counter and put them into the microwave. A thousand explosions from inside as the skin burst open with the heat. She took the knife to cut it in pieces just the way mom did, and she watched as it slipped and sliced straight into her thumb, lodged in the skin, watching the river of blood trickling down her hand.

Love hurts when you’re 10 years old. In Nashville, at a daycare. Dropped off while your parents find help. Your younger brother terrified, screams and cries every time he’s left on his own. And so you spend the next 10 hours entertaining him, talking to him, playing with him. Exhausted. And every time you try to close your eyes his tears bring you back. And you spend the next decade of your life both protecting and hating him.

Love hurts when you’re sitting on the street corner under the tree. 16, without a license, all your eggs firmly planted into one basket, waiting for that boy to come back, to tell you that he loves you, to give a piece of himself back to you, and he never does because you’re asking him to be the float that keeps your head above water and no one is meant to bare that burden.

Love hurts when you’re 18 years old and getting ready to leave for college. No idea what lies ahead. All her friends are picking out college classes and what dorm stuff they’ll buy. Going to visit campuses on her own. She’s lost herself in someone else’s life so she doesn’t have to face what it means to spend the next 2 months without her mom again as she tries to put her life back together somewhere else, alone and terrified.

Love hurts when you’re 22. So desperate to feel something solid in her life that she climbs into a stranger’s car for the night. Skin on skin. Anything to keep the loneliness at bay. The next morning she wakes up to sheer panic. No money. No phone. No car. Hungover. Sliding out someone else’s bedroom window to walk across town and find home.

Love hurts at 24. Looking to see her value through the eyes of the boy in front of her. She let herself be rated 1-10. Not small enough. Not talented enough. Not driven. So she stopped eating. She kept drinking. And she moved through life as fast as she could. If she never stopped moving, the pain wouldn’t have a chance to knock her to her knees. Using every ounce of effort left in her body, she supported him through the end of his world until it finally took the last bit of integrity she possessed.

Love hurts at 32. Looking at the man she had built her life with and choosing forgiveness once again. Why? Another violation. Why couldn’t she find the anger centered inside her body. Hell, why couldn’t she find anything in her body but the river of intense longing, a cavern of abandonment in her chest. Left for another woman and choosing to try yet again.

Love hurts when you can’t find yourself. When you’re sitting at the stoplight on your way to work, and it hits you, hard, the wind pouring from your lungs like the sails unfurling in a hurricane. She couldn’t find herself. Where was her worth? She breathed in gasping for the oxygen to see her through. She emblazoned words on her rib cage so that every. Single. Time. She took off her shirt to see her naked body, it would be a reminder. “Know your worth.” The words rattling inside “we accept the love we think we deserve.”

Love still hurts at 36. But now she recognizes the pain has lapped at the edges, softening every side. She’s relearning that her value is intrinsic. Empathy and kindness, courage and bravery stand where once she was met with fear. Passion and vulnerability unearthed in each and every weathering storm. A deep knowing greets her from the inside as she stands very still in the tornado of the pulsing anxiety. Love hurts but maybe it’s meant too. Love will always hurt, but the secret is never to leave her own side. Hand on heart, one slow breath at a time, to know that she will always be enough and will never leave her side.

[feelin-woozy]

Title: With Teeth Word Count: 1852 Pairing: Bo Sinclair / Reader Warnings: Gender-neutral reader

[ Ao3 Link | Previous ] 1997

The sound of some soft rock ballad fills the air around you, the bass gently thrumming through the marred wooden bartop. The waitress comes and sets the beer you ordered down in front of you. She doesn’t bother with a coaster, not when the bar is already littered with water rings. You express your thanks just loud enough to be heard over the music before you let your mind begin to wander once more.

“Well I’ll be damned.” Your ears instantly perk up at the sound of that voice. It’s a sound so familiar to you yet equally as foreign after years of not hearing it. It’s better than you remember; it fills you with the warmth of memories of your misspent youth. But guilt swiftly taints the softness shifting into something jagged and painful as it settles.

Turning your head, your eyes are met with a familiar face. He looks older but close enough to what you recall a seventeen year-old Bo Sinclair to look like. You catch the faint white lines of scars against his skin, and you wonder what he did to get those. You wonder if he let his brothers patch him back up. His eyes are that familiar crystalline blue, the anger is still there, but you can tell that he’s learned to hide it better. Even after all these years, you can see past his facade. He smells similar to how you remember, too, the stench of cigarettes heavy in his clothing, but there’s something new to his scent. You think it might be motor oil.

“Bo?” You say dumbly, staring at him with an almost starstruck expression. Your cheeks flush a soft pink when you realize that perhaps you had been staring at him for too long as you gathered your thoughts.

It wasn’t as if you hadn’t intended to return to Ambrose; you did, but every time you thought about it, something would come up. Your parents’ divorce had been the first reason that you hadn’t returned, though in hindsight, going then would’ve been perfect for escaping their drama. And then you got a promotion at work, and it was hard to find time off. Then there were the partners that came and went in your life. And as time ticked on, the idea of going back felt awkward; after all, by then, well over six years had passed.

Ambrose had become your own Garden of Eden, the whimsical youth that contorts your memories of the town, making it seem closer to paradise than the concrete jungle you found yourself in these days. It was a town you were tossed out of, albeit unwillingly, but it always felt that there was no going back. Ambrose had become nothing more than a footnote in your life.

You weren’t even sure if Ambrose was still there. Last you heard, the Sugarmill had shut down, and that was the only thing there that breathed life into the town. A part of you hoped it was lost to changing times, nothing but a ghost town filled with memories of better days and dark secrets. You hoped that Bo really did get out like he said he would.

“One an’ only.” Bo slots himself onto the stool next to you; the worn vinyl creaks beneath his weight. A hand curled around his glass of beer. It was already half empty. You wonder how you hadn’t noticed him when you had first entered the bar. “How ya been? It’s been what? Ten years?”

The way he says it makes the already sown guilt bloom into something plentiful. You can’t help but frown.

“Hey now,” Bo leans forward, lips twisting just slightly. The look he gives you sparks a familiar in the pit of your stomach, and you know he’s toying with you. He’s testing you and seeing how much you’ve changed. “I get it, shits different out here than back home. So tell me, how has it been?”

You eye him carefully for a moment before you let out a small huff of air and a bitter laugh. “Can I be honest with you, Bo? Shit fuckin’ sucks.”

He takes a slow drink from the glass, staring at you with a raised brow. “City life not all it’s cracked up to be?”

“It’s not, but I’m a contributing member to society now so I have that going for me. Guess you weren’t as bad as my mom thought you were.” You flash him a smirk, and he returns it with a slight curve at the corner of his lips. “Are you living in the city now too?”

“No. Vin, Lester an’ I are still in Ambrose.” He shrugs his shoulders before his eyes dart off to the clock on the far side of the wall before they meet yours again. “Was just about to start headin’ back home, then I heard your pretty little voice.”

“Really?” You kick yourself for the way your words drip with disappointment. It was at that moment you realized just how much you had missed Bo. The thought of leaving him once more made knots form in your stomach. You shift on the barstool, fingers drumming along the countertop before you swallow the lump in your throat and speak, “Shame. Think I could convince you to come back to my place tonight?”

“Mm.” Something flickers within Bo’s eyes at your words, and the curve of his lips transforms into something more wolfish. It’s a look that you know your mother would disapprove of. “You in the habit of pickin’ strangers up from bars often?”

“No, so consider yourself special.”

_____

It’s strange yet familiar having Bo Sinclair in your tiny little apartment. It reminds you of the times that he had snuck in through the window when you were teenagers. Where you would lay together on the small twin mattress, legs dangling off the side of the bed while listening to whatever music he decided to show you next.

With arms crossed over your chest, you watch as Bo’s eyes dart around your living room, his eyes moving over every last detail of your place. As if he was trying to relearn who you were through the possessions that you kept. You move past him and into your kitchen. You grab two glasses from the cabinet before setting them down next to the half-empty bottle of whiskey on the counter.

“So, what do you do, Bo? Last I heard Ambrose dried right up.” You ask, grabbing the liquor and pouring a moderate amount into each glass. His eyes turn to you, away from the collection of CDs that rest neatly on a shelf, and he smiles. A smile that leaves the hairs on the back of your neck to rise and gooseflesh to rise along your skin. It doesn’t help when he moves towards the edge of the counter opposite to you, reaching over and grabbing the glass. You watch the amber liquid squish as he brings it up to his lips.

“I kill people.” It’s said like a joke, but with the look in his eyes and that damn smile, you know that it’s far from it. It’s not a very funny joke either. You’re almost relieved to have the counter separating the two of you, but you know that if he were going to do something, that wouldn’t stop him.

“You’re serious, aren’t you?” You ask, watching his adam’s apple bob as he drinks. You mirror the movement, taking a sip of your own and nearly draining the half-filled glass in one go. It burns on the way down.

“That scare you?” He asks with a quirked brow as he sets the glass down.

You think for a moment as you stare at him unblinking. You would be lying if you said it didn’t, but at the same time, there’s something about it that just makes sense. It’s like all the warning signs were there from the start, he had always been a recipe for disaster, and this was the outcome. Your mother warned you that there was something wicked about him. You finish the rest of your whiskey before slamming the glass down against the granite countertop. “No.”

“You’ve always been stupid, know that? Since we were fuckin’ kids. It should scare you.” He rests his palms on the counter, the top half of his body overtaking the counter and encroaching on your space. You fight the urge to recoil. You notice the way his eyes sparkle, that mean look that never scared you as a child, suddenly making your blood run cold. But you steel your nerves, and just like when you were a child, you decide to sink to his level and lean in with a mean look of your own.

Bo laughs, the sound rumbling somewhere deep within his chest and bouncing off walls that box you in. His eyes narrow, and his lips curl up in the faintest of snarls. “You’re fucked up, real fucked in the head.” He spits the words at you, the top of his lips baring his teeth as spittle flies, and you can’t help but smile at him. You know Bo’s goading you, trying to make you see him for the monster he thinks he is, for you to think twice and back down, so he has an excuse to bash your head in against the countertop.

Bo wants to watch you bleed as you slip up and cut yourself on his edges. He’s waiting for the moment he can remind you just how mean he can be.

“And you love it.” You’ve said a lot of stupid things over your life, but you think this might be your magnum opus. It makes Bo’s face falter, eyes widening just a bit as his jaw goes slack. The gears are turning in his head; you can see the way he tries to process what you’ve said.

Bo Sinclair has his edges sharpened through years of hurt and trauma. You can only imagine they’ve gotten more jagged since the time you’ve last seen him, especially if what he said was true. But even now, even after all these years, you still manage to shock him with your unconditional positive regard. Your willingness to hit a home run every time he throws a curveball at you.

You’re banking on the fact that you have history to keep you safe because if you were anyone else, if you hadn’t known each other since you were eating bugs or using sticks as swords or sharing a drunken kiss just to see what it was like, you would be bleeding out over the cold off white linoleum. In some fucked up way, you think that maybe, just maybe, the two of you were made for each other.

His mouth opens and closes like a fish as he stares at you. With each passing second, the smile on your face twists and contorts a little, and for the first time in nearly ten years, you feel closer to yourself than you have since you left Ambrose.

“Yeah, I do.”

[red-jaebyrd]

My Brother’s Keeper

Ric hadn’t set out to make a new friend that day. In fact he hadn’t even expected to see the guy again once he had helped Ric push his busted cab to the side of the road.

Hardly anyone ever went out of their way to help others in Bludhaven. It surprised Ric when this guy, Jason just appeared as if out of nowhere to yell at honking drivers and help Ric get his cab out of the way of traffic. Ric had invited him to The Prodigal for a beer that night as a thank you. He wasn’t sure if Jason would even show up that night, but to his surprise he did.

“So what do you do when you're not swooping in to help complete strangers push their broken down cars out of rush hour traffic?” Ric asked.

Jason laughed. “Little bit of this, little bit of that, mostly free-lance stuff.”

It was a vague answer, but Ric let it slide. Everyone had their secrets, he couldn’t fault a guy he just met to have a few.

“Must be nice. Is it real lucrative?”

“The pay isn’t bad,” Jason shrugged. “I get to set my own hours and carry a gun.”

“Can’t argue with those perks,” Ric chuckled, taking a drink of his beer. “So did you grow up around here?”

“Nah, I grew up in Gotham, what about you?”

Ric tensed at hearing Gotham and gripped the handle of his beer mug tighter. He really hoped Jason wasn’t another one of Wayne’s associates trying to jog his memory and lure him back ‘home’. Maybe he should just play along.

“Same, seems everyone one I’ve run into lately is from Gotham.” Ric challenged.

“Well, to be fair Gotham is a pretty big place,” Jason replied causally. “So what brought you to Bludhaven?”

Ric shrugged allowing the tension to leave his shoulders. “Let’s just say I needed somewhere new to spread my wings.”

“And you chose Bludhaven?” Jason snorted. “Did you lose a bet?”

“Shut up.” Ric laughed, elbowing Jason in the arm. “Don’t knock it. You’re here too. What brought you to the ‘haven’?”

Jason ran a hand through his hair. His brow furrowed in thought before he answered. At first Ric thought that maybe he was prying too much into this guy’s life, or asking too many personal questions.  He couldn’t help it. He liked talking and Jason was the first person besides Bea that was actually interested in talking to him.

“Gotham wasn’t safe for us anymore, so my brothers and I bailed and came here.”

“Looks like you left just in time. I heard a lot of crazy shit with the Bat was happening in Gotham. Wait, did you say ‘brothers’?” Ric’s smiled wistfully.

Jason nodded. “I have four. One was staying with our sister the last time I checked in with him and the other two came here with me.”

Ric had always wondered what it would be like to be part of a big family.  He wondered if he had ever asked his parents for a brother or a sister. If they hadn’t died, would they have had more children? Would he have been a good big brother to them? Wayne did have a younger son, so Ric was technically a big brother, but he couldn’t remember his life with him. When it came to the Waynes, Ric was just a son and brother on paper.

“Where’s the other one? You said four brothers, but only mentioned three of them.”

He watched as Jason scratched along a groove in the wood of the bar, like he was trying to think of the right words to say. Ric’s stomach flipped as he started to speculate that maybe something serious did happen to Jason’s family. Or maybe Ric was just making Jason feel uncomfortable with all his questions. Ric did that sometimes when he got too excited talking to new people. Jason took a swig of his beer before answering Ric’s question.

“Our older brother...” Jason answered, running his fingers along the condensation of his mug. “…he went missing a few months ago. It’s been hard on the family, especially our father and my youngest brother.”

“I’m sorry. I can imagine it’s been difficult for everyone, especially you. It can’t be easy being the one that they depend on.”

Jason shook his head. “No, truthfully it sucks sometimes, but it has its moments. He was– I had a good role model and they’re good kids. They just miss him. I miss him too.”

“Well you got them somewhere safe,” Ric clapped a hand on Jason’s shoulder. “Well…relatively safe. Any leads on his whereabouts?”

“Nothing but dead ends. Deep down I don’t really think he wants to found,” Jason shrugged. “But I’ll keep looking for him. So what about you, any siblings?”

Ric knew a dismissal when he heard it. He didn’t mind the change in subject. He couldn’t blame Jason for not elaborating. It had to be stressful for anyone looking for a missing family member. He assumed this question was bound to make its way onto him.

“No, I’m an only child. My parents died when I was eight.”

“Shit, sorry man. We can talk about something else.”

“It’s fine. You told me about your brother. I can talk about this. I did get taken into a good home, so I shouldn’t really complain,” Ric shrugged.

“But…”

Ric shook his head. “It’s just frustrating to have these people who are supposed to be my ‘family’ constantly telling me how I should be living my life.”

“Oh, I know how that is, trust me. It’s the worst.”

“Right? Why can’t I live my life how I want to? I’m an adult. They’re not even interested in getting to know me,” Ric ranted. “They just want their precious ‘Dick Grayson’ back. It’s my life now not his, let me live it how I want to.”

Shit. He went too far. He could see the look of surprise on Jason’s face. The lull of silence between them stretched and Ric couldn’t form a cohesive thought. Ric’s brain was scrambling for something else to say, anything to say, to fix the mess he just made but nothing was coming. Instead his mind started replaying all recent moments of disappointed people coming and going in his life claiming that they loved him, but not wanting to take the time get to know him.

Ric really hated his brain sometimes and how there was no filter between what he was thinking and what came out of his mouth. He needed to explain himself to Jason fast. Ric knew Jason had to have noticed the gnarly scar on the side of his head. Maybe the scar would give him a free pass at his unfiltered choice of words.

“Sorry, sorry, that uh kinda came out of nowhere. I…uh…had a bit of an accident…” Ric explained, pointing at his scar. “…I got shot a few months ago and well let’s just say my “family” or whatever they want to call themselves, didn’t take to my recovery well.”

“I’m sorry. Sometimes injuries that intense can either bring a family closer together or tear them apart.”

Ric shrugged his shoulders. It had been rough having to relearn how to do everyday tasks like eating, writing his name, and walking. His “family” and friends had been there at every therapy session encouraging him with their words and overall presence. But the worst of it had been their reactions to the news that his memories of them were gone.

“I couldn’t remember them,” Ric admitted, staring at his near empty beer mug.  “They were literal strangers to me the moment I opened my eyes from the coma, and it was something that they wouldn’t accept. In the end their concern for me and my recovery just felt conditional, so I left and came here.”

“Damn. Do they at least check up on you?” Jason asked.

“The old man used to, but I haven’t seen him in a while. A red-headed chick did too, but I told her not to bother anymore. Not if she’s going to keep looking at me searching for ‘him’ to come back. Apparently the other guy they really want was a real ‘Golden boy’, that’s not me.”

Jason snorted.

“What did I say?” Ric quirked a smile.

“Nothing,” Jason smirked, and took a drink of his beer.

“I’m doing just fine on my own. I don’t need them.”

“No you don’t. I know they’re family, but fuck them.” Jason clinked his beer mug against Ric’s.

Oh Ric really liked this guy.

 8888

The next few weeks Ric and Jason met up at The Prodigal for beers. Some nights all they did was talk and drink. Other nights they drank and played pool. Jason became one of Ric’s favorite drinking buddies.

Ric couldn’t legitimately remember ever having a feeling of kinship with anyone like Jason before in his life. It was nice and a bit scary at the same time letting someone new in his life. Still, instead of running away from this newfound friendship, Ric embraced it.

Friendship was a concept Ric wasn’t sure he’d ever get used to again. He didn’t have many friends in Bludhaven, well friends that he remembered. Dick’s old friends wanted nothing to do with him. They kept waiting and pushing for Dick to “come back”. When he finally snapped at them that Dick was gone and never coming back, they stopped visiting him. He did have Bea. She was the only one who had welcomed him with open arms and genuinely wanted to get to know him.

Jason had been the only other person he had run into that also didn’t have some hidden agenda to “bring Dick back”. With Jason there wasn’t any pressure or demand to be anyone other than himself. He could be Ric with no expectations thrust upon him. Jason empathized with Ric’s struggle to find his identity apart from the Waynes.

This was what made hanging out with Jason so easy. The anxiety of having to censor himself, afraid he might say or do something that was so inherently not Dick didn’t exist when he was around Jason. It was such a relief and a weight off Ric’s shoulders to just exist in a space with a friend and be himself.

Once Jason had opened up to Ric, he learned that there was a whole slew of shit that had happened to his friend in just a short amount of time. Aside from his brother going missing, Jason had a serious falling out with his dad that had caused a significant rift between them causing him to take his brothers and leave. However, the most devastating news had to be hearing that Jason’s best friend had been killed while staying at an inpatient rehabilitation facility.

“I wish I had some advice to give you, but something tells me you weren’t looking for any,” Ric said.

“No, not really, just a sympathetic ear, I guess.”

“I’m sorry about your best friend. That really sucks what happened to him.”

“Thanks, man. At least we got to work one last job together before he died. Anyway, that’s enough of my bullshit. What’s up with you? You look like my little brother after seven Red Bulls and 3 hours of sleep.”

Ric sighed. “It’s kind of embarrassing, but I’ve been having these dreams lately of faceless people in weird costumes. In the dream I feel like I know them. I’m ready to say their name but I can’t talk. I wake up and by the time I try to recall the images I can’t remember them.”

“Do you think your memories are trying to come back?” Jason asked.

“I don’t know, maybe?” Ric shrugged.

“But…you don’t want them to come back, do you?”

It felt silly getting so worked up over something like lost memories resurfacing. Ric should be happy that parts of his lost past was trying to get through to him. He should be relieved that the 15 years of lost memories were finally starting to return, but he wasn’t happy or relieved. He was worried.

“What happens to me when I start remembering everything? Will I still be Ric when Dick’s memories come flooding back filling in the gaps? What if I don’t like the things I start to remember? What then?”

Jason turned in his stool to face Ric. “No matter what, you’ll still be Ric. You’ll still be the guy with the busted cab I had to push out of traffic. You’ll still be the guy that kicks my ass playing pool. You’ll still be the guy who insists on buying the first round and listening to all my bullshit. You’ll still be you, just with new memories.

“No matter what happens you are not obligated to go back to your old life or live your life by your old memories. You don’t owe those assholes in Gotham anything.”

Ric nodded allowing Jason’s words to sink in.

“We’ll take it one day at a time,” Jason clapped a hand on Ric’s shoulder. “Next round is on me.”

The anxiety slowly started to ebb away as Ric watched his friend leave their high top table and make his way to the bar to get another round of beers.

Ric couldn’t stop the new memories from coming. They were coming whether he wanted them to or not. And when they did come he was glad to have found such a great friend in Jason. The man was right, no matter what happened, he was not obligated to go back to his old life or live his life by his old memories.

Part 2: Somebody That I Used to Know

[ctrl-alt-tahu]

Icy Contemplation

Word of the Mask of the Light reached Ko-Koro before Jaller and Takua’s quest brought them there, travelling with word of the kohlii results. Turaga Nuju took the news silently and returned to his chamber without so much as a gesture to either Kopaka or Matoro. In itself, this was not a remarkable fact, but Kopaka Nuva found himself disquieted by the news, and sought the open night skies and the slopes of the mountains. 

The weather was calm, as it usually was in Ko-Wahi when Kopaka was contemplative, and the constellations shone brilliant above him. With no wind, it was pleasant for a Ko-Matoran (what any other Matoran would call cold), and Kopaka Nuva sat on the frozen ground, gazing at the stars without attending to them.

He had spoken of it to no one since they had emerged as the Toa Nuva from the chamber below the Bahrag, but something was off. Different was the wrong word, since of course they were different: their masks, their powers, their tools had all changed and needed to be relearned. That was not it, though it had hidden the problem for a while.

No, the problem was... personal. Something about himself, or about his team, was different. There had been an easiness, a confidence to them before, even in the midst of the Bohrok chaos. You could almost believe the legendary talk of six kings in mask of gold. But that balance had been missing since.

It was not something Kopaka would ever have talked about willingly, but he certainly could not do so now. Tahu would have bristled at the idea that something was wrong, would have denied the very possibility. Gali would overthink it. Onua should have been the one to notice, to say something... but Onua was different, almost a stranger. 

All the others were different. That was the problem. Tahu and he had always butt heads, but Tahu would once have listened. He did not think Tahu would anymore. As for Pohatu...

“Toa Kopaka?” 

It was Matoro. Nuju’s translator and right hand man had come onto the mountain seeking him. Matoro did not seem aware of it, but he had an excellent voice, deep and rich, the perfect spokesman, and he radiated quiet trust. How could he not, knowing so many secrets?

"Yes, Matoro," he answered. There was no point pretending he had not been found, and Kopaka was curt not rude.

"The news from Ta-Koro is strange," said Matoro. "Weighty, even. Will you search for the Seventh Toa?"

"Your friend, Takua, and Captain Jaller will search," said Kopaka. "I am sure I will meet them, once they are found.

"Do you not wish to?" asked Matoro, and for a second Kopaka Nuva wondered if the slope on Matoro's Akaku had seen right through him, but Kopaka knew that however much the translator knew of the Turagas' counsels, he knew nothing of the Toa Nuva's strange new selves--or troubles. For the Toa Nuva needed no translator, nor did they meet in council.

"I am in no hurry," said Kopaka. "I have too many brothers already." He trained his unwavering gaze on Matoro. "You are not here because you think something might bother me, Translator but because something bothers you."

"As I said, the news is weighty," said Matoro.

"I understand if you cannot say more," said Kopaka. "Your secrets are not your own."

Matoro said nothing but continued to look intently at Kopaka.

"The phrase 'Seventh Toa' is an odd one," admitted Kopaka, taking a stab at what Matoro could not say. "I am sure I have heard it explicitly denied before."

"There are only the six of you," said Matoro, nodding. "The Turaga have said that to all, many times."

"I have never heard of the Mask of Light before," said Kopaka, trying to solve the puzzle Matoro was laying before him. "It is like, and yet unlike, the Golden Kanohi we once wore--or is it not? Is that it: the Turaga have denied there being a seventh one of us--perhaps not there being a Seventh Toa. The Seventh Toa is a Toa, yet not like us."

Matoro said nothing. There was silence under the stars. The first moon was rising.

"The Turaga have many secrets," said Kopaka Nuva. "This is why I do not hasten to find the Seventh Toa. When they come, they will come."

And, perhaps, when they do, he thought to himself, it may be that they will bring the piece we have been missing since the Cave.

[ageofevermore]

Unsaid Emily

SUMMARY — and maybe it was the midnight ink on her wrist that tied her to him

WORD COUNT — 1.7k

───── ･ ｡ﾟ☆ﾟ: *. ☽ .* : ☆ﾟ. ─────

They had said goodbye to a child eight years before welcoming the second with shocked and scared hearts. They had promised to do things differently -- to like whatever she liked, watch whatever she watched, and love whatever she loved. They drew no boundary at personal belief when it came to this second child that shadowed the life of Luke, but they made no attempts to forgive and mend the empty spaces in their hearts where they had already done this. They had already gone through first steps, words, and heartbreaks. They had captured Luke’s seventeen years of life in their memory so perfectly watching hers felt faulty. They tried with everything they had to love her as they never loved Luke, but somehow that caused even more of a divide as everything was reminiscent of the deceased first born brunette. 

She had been away at school when his birthday rolled around; for the first time in her seventeen years of pitiful existence she didn’t blow out the candles on a stale chocolate cake. She spent the day away from stories of her brother, and instead  spent it knowing somewhere in the universe he wasn’t being smothered by Mitch and Emily’s persistent opinions. She couldn’t outrun home forever though. An amazing music program in Santa Monica pulled her away from LA for most weeks out of the year, but her mother was persistent that she abandon the dorms and visit home every so often. It was that fear of Luke again. He had instilled so many traumas that even trust with her was unruly and weak. 

She heard the doorbell ring as she was unpacking her pile of homework, the weekend away from school meaning nothing for the multiple classes she was taking weekly. Though the private boarding school was diverse in the makeup of their structured courses, she was still on a tightly wound schedule with instrumental practice and vocals along with mandatory academics like calculus. She hates calculus. She had only started around the corner because she heard the sound of her brother's name roll off of a stranger's tongue. The defined L sound was unmistakable, and partnered with the topic of music, the correlation was undeniable. 

“Yeah. That’s Luke, when he was two.” Mitch explained the picture between the girls grasp, eyes growing damp at the topic of his greatest failure as a parent. Luke was his perfect gift. 

“Do you have any other children?” The girl asked, gently setting the picture frame down and bringing her chocolate eyes up to Mitch’s. The gentleness of her expressions were weighing heavy on the hearts of a family that lived with the memory of Luke on their mind daily. Even with the retelling of his story the only fragment of his existence that she knew, hearing these words hurt.

“A daughter. Lily.” Mitch looked just behind the guest, eyes trailing over his daughter that shared the same midnight toned hair and hard blue eyes as his Luke once had. She stepped past the threshold connecting the foyer to the living room, ignoring the butterflies that spread through her stomach at a certain point across the hardwood. 

“I’m Lily.” She smiled tightly at the girl, hand extended in a polite greeting that was in no way authentic. Her heart was beating her ears, palms collecting sweat at the idea of knowing Luke from somebody else's perspective. 

“Julie.”  The two smiled at each other, both looking equally displaced despite this being Lily’s house, and having been Julie’s personal decision to come. Luke just had that effect on people. His memory made you hurt so deeply that anything other than crying felt wrong. 

“Did I hear the doorbell?” Emily asked, hand softly brushing against Lily’s back. Emily hadn’t even flinched when her child pulled away from the embrace, just accepted what had become routine since implementing the memory and the love of Luke. In remembering one child Mitch and Emily had completely pushed away the other. 

“Mom, this is Julie.” Lily introduced the two, her eyes wandering around the space that suddenly felt so full. She had stood in this same living room for seventeen years prior to the current evening and never had she got the sense of being complete. 

“Hello, Julie.” Emily smiled, looking over the girl standing in their living room with nothing more than a name to her purpose. “Oh, that’s a beautiful sweater.” 

She had never heard her mother speak so freely kindly towards others' clothing. She had woken the same morning, expecting the looks of judgement and unwarranted warnings that band-tees and vans had been the very wardrobe to have taken Luke’s life. 

When she had gotten Sunset Curve tattooed to the flesh of her wrist, binding her life to her brother's memory, they had gone mental. It had been tears of disappointment and pain at the foundation of an argument. They had come around eventually, but only off of the premise that they didn’t want to drive Lily away and watch her face death like Luke did. 

“Thanks. It’s my moms.” Julie looked down at her sweater, fingers softly brushing along the knitted material. By the solemn expression in her eyes, Lily knew that death had been upon her. Nobody bore such a heavy gleam without the persuading of trauma and grief. 

“Julie lives in the house where Luke and the band rehearsed. She was just telling me she found a song that Luke wrote.” Mitch looked down at Julie, all while Lily couldn’t shake the feeling of eyes on her. Looking around the room again, her heart jumped painfully in her chest at the orb of afterlife reflecting from the sun just behind Julie. As she stared into the rainbow colors of the orb, she couldn’t help but feel as though a set of eyes was sharing the encounter with her. 

Blinking away the delusion, Lily’s thumb traced the tattoo on her wrist, her eyes welling with tears. She might have rivaled a ghost all of her childhood, but she missed the soft and tender memories of her brother she didn’t have the heart to relearn. She could love him with everything she had, but never would see ask her parents about his short lived life. 

“It’s a song about a girl named Emily?” 

A tear fell from Lily’s eyes, while warm pools of grief framed the waterline of her blue optics, threatening to spill over at any second. She traced the spot where the orb of afterlife had once floated above the air with streaks of rainbow, but the sun had moved away and stopped casting a spotlight on the space. 

“Emily…” Mitch whispered into the open air of the space, eyes glazing over as he looked down to his wife that had beared two children and loved the first more than anything worldly. “I’m Emily.” She pleaded, although neither she nor Julie knew what she was asking for with her desperation soaked tone. 

“Then I think your son may have written a song for you.” Julie handed over the old and tattered piece of notebook paper that bore the same handwriting as all of Luke’s journals still stashed away in the attic. The same handwriting that lived permanently on her wrist, taking the shape of what his dream had once been. 

“First things first, we start the scene in reverse.” Lily had to shake the thought of music out of her focus, her body so heavily convinced that somewhere in the depths of her home a song was playing softly. The dimension of the vocals she heard was unlike any streaming platform ability, making her wonder if her mother had broken into the vinyls again. 

“All of the lines rehearsed disappeared from my mind when things got loud. One of us running out, I should've turned around, but I had too much pride. No time for goodbyes, didn't get to apologize, pieces of a clock that lies broken. If I could take us back, if I could just do that and write in every empty space the words ‘I love you’ in replace. Then maybe time would not erase me, if you could only know I never let you go, and the words I most regret are the ones I never meant to leave. Unsaid Emily. Silent days, mysteries and mistakes. Who'd be the first to break? I guess we're alike that way. He said, she said, conversations in my head, and that's just where they're gonna stay forever.” 

It was a ringing between her ears that brought the delusion to a standstill. As her fingers curl around her wrist as if to physically grab the midnight ink, the whisper of a voice in her focus becomes too prominent to ignore. 

“If I could take us back, if I could just do that, and write in every empty space the words ‘I love you’ in replace. Then maybe time would not erase me, if you could only know I never let you go, and the words I most regret are the ones I never meant to leave. Unsaid Emily. If I could take us back, if I could just do that, and write in every empty space the words ‘I love you’ in replace, then maybe time would not erase me. If you could only know I never let you go.” She hears the words through herself so clearly, she’s certain the words she can practically feel are the same as what’s written on the page between her mother's fingertips. She doesn’t understand it, but somehow she knows. 

It’s him. Luke. Her big brother. 

Her wrist flashes hot for a second, startling her enough to abandon the tight locked gaze she has on the empty space behind Julie and look down at her reddening skin. “And the words I most regret are the ones I never meant to leave. Unsaid Emily.” 

A cold shock ran through her body in contrast to the searing hot pain circulating her wrist. She sniffled when the last sung Emily sounded through her body, the vibrato sounding so close to her it was paralyzing. When she found her bearings and the jelly like feeling in her legs dispersed to her heart, she looked back up at Julie.  

With one last fleeting glance towards the empty space behind Julie, the sight of a blue-eyed boy looking tearfully beyond herself, calmed the burn in her wrist. She made eye contact with the boy, a name fitting comfortably on her tongue despite the impossibility of it all. 

“Luke…” 

[guqin-and-flute]

3zun are having "quality adult time" when they're interrupted by small child who just had a nightmare.

(Pff love it. There are no actual ‘quality adult time’s in this fic, just frustrated parents being interrupted making out 😂 Bonus little post-canon And A-Fu Makes 4 3zun at the end!)

If there was one thing that could be lamented in all of Nie Mingjue’s parenting experience, it was bedtime. Patience was not a thing that he was known for and there was something about the whole bedtime process that just made him want to pull his hair out. One would think that living at least half of his time with a clan that prided itself in such a strict sleep schedule would rub off on the boy but no. No.

Every night, it was either sudden selective deafness or running around like a hyperactive little squirrel attempting to rile himself up or ‘I’m hungry’ or ‘I’m thirsty’ or ‘I need to pee’ as soon as the time came. ‘I’m lonely,’ he would insist. ‘I want to know where trees come from all of a sudden.’ Once, it was even a straightforward ‘You are all going to have fun out there without me and I don’t think that should be allowed.’ That last one was accompanied by a very Xichen-like reasonable eyebrow raise but a haughty sort of finality in pursed lips. Nie Mingjue was torn between laughing and grinding his teeth. “We will be doing boring adult things, child. You need to sleep.”

“What sort of things?” he demanded back.

“Budgeting,” Nie Mingjue responded, dryly, folding his arms.

Sometimes, it would actually be something of the sort--Clan business and whatnot. And sometimes it was some nice, relaxing, patiently-awaited intimacy. Since they knew their son very well, nothing all that interesting would be attempted in the first 2 hours after putting him to bed--with good reason, for he tended to pop up at the most inopportune times to announce that he wasn’t actually that tired and so this was a perfect time to tell a story, I think. “No, little one,” Lan Xichen would remind him with a patient smile as he walked him back to his room. “This is the perfect time to sleep. Goodnight.”

That child could shoot little daggers with his eyes and it was a struggle not to laugh and rankle his 5 year old pride at the injustice of it all. Nie Mingjue wondered who he had gotten that look from. 

He would usually let Lan Xichen handle it, or Jin Guangyao if he happened to be around, because by the gods they seemed to have the most infinite well of patience when it came to small child chicanery. Nie Mingjue, on the other hand, had long had to deal with Huaisang’s mischievous schemes and world-class ability to whine. His patience for such things was a finite resource he had mined dry very early in childhood. Oh, he loved his brother--but he did not love it when he got in trouble as the oldest for Husaisang deciding to sneak out of his room repeatedly (as if Nie Mingjue was supposed to have foreseen and stopped this!) or wail at his door in the middle of the night because he was, of all things, bored. It was night time--you sleep at night. 

Or other things.

But that, of course, was in an ideal world, where partners lived together and children stayed in their rooms when they were told to. Generally, they didn’t like to assign a night babysitter to A-Fu when they visited each other--they saw him so little as it was and Nie Mingjue would feel too guilty leaving his responsibilities as a father to a relative stranger. He didn’t generally discuss these things with Jin Guangyao, but he knew him well enough to know that he felt the same way. And to know that such interruptions happened between Lan Xichen and him, as well. There had been many a morning when he had come to one of their room’s to greet the pair of them to find a bleary eyed, borderline crabby Jin Guangyao curled around a sprawled out A-Fu as Lan Xichen meditated nearby with a small smile.

“Late night interloper?” he had asked, once--knowingly--when this had happened during a joint visit to Koi Tower.

Jin Guangyao had scrunched up his face and shoved his head under the plush pillow as Lan Xichen had risen, still smiling, to tuck his nose under Nie Mingjue’s jaw and murmur, “There was a cricket in his room. Apparently, this was unacceptable. As was the walk to your room.”

“Long night?”

“He kicks. So much,” came Jin Guangyao’s pillow-muffled voice.

Nie Mingjue had snorted with only a little smugness.

And yet he could still muster a bit of sympathy, even for him, because he knew how it felt to just want a moment with Xichen and all the nice, long, shapely bits of him. 

Like right now. Because night time was supposed to be for ‘quality adult time’ and he would absolutely love to get to actually spend it with his lover during one of the first times he had seen him in 3 months. It had been a long day of playing in the Unclean Realm and snuggling with, and in general enjoying the presence of their beautiful, sweet, rambunctious son. 

But now it was night. And they had put said wonderful son to bed at least 2 and a half hours ago and he was setting about leaving some very nice and artistic marks on the junction of Lan Xichen’s shoulder and neck when the door to his quarters squeaked and he could practically feel his pulse throbbing in his temples. All of that lovely anticipation just up and fell into annoyance as gracelessly as a tree crashing over. At least they were both clothed but really. He bit back a growled curse as Lan Xichen slithered back away from him with a slightly aggrieved grimace, tugging his lapels back into place. “A-Fu, it is time--” Nie Mingjue began to grit out, sitting up and preparing to pick his son up and put him in Huaisang’s room and see how he liked whining then---but stopped. 

A-Fu’s eyes were huge, his crumpled face wet with tears as he hiccuped silently. Quiet crying was always real. “Oh, A-Fu. Come here,” Nie Mingjue immediately dropped his voice down low and quiet and held out his arms as Xichen sat up behind him, his night robes collar already tucked back into proper order. 

The boy darted to the bed and threw himself into his arms, practically knocking the wind out of him. “Nightmare?” Nie Mingjue asked gently into his sleep sweaty scalp and felt him nod frenetically.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Lan Xichen murmured, smoothing what he could reach of A-Fu’s hair around Mingjue’s enveloping embrace. A-Fu shook his head just as violently.

Well, there was nothing for it. Nightmares beat fun every time, no question. “Do you want to stay with us for a while?” 

He gave the tiniest, wobbliest, “Mm-hmm,” and sniffed loudly. They tucked him in between them, snuggled into Nie Mingjue’s chest with Lan Xichen’s arm over the both of them. After they had all settled, Lan Xichen began to hum, quietly, into the moon soaked darkness. Nie Mingjue might not have an ear for music, but he did recognize the habitual soothing that spread through his muscles, his veins and washed over him like warm, sweet water. The Song of Clarity. Almost instantly, he felt A-Fu go completely limp, dropping back into sleep with impressive speed. (If only it were always so.)

Lan Xichen kept humming, combing his fingers slowly through Nie Mingjue’s loose hair, smiling gently at him through the dimness, his eyes black and bright. Leaning forward, Mingjue pressed a chaste kiss to his chin and closed his eyes to listen, letting the vibrations buzz through his lips and the peace of the moment seep through him. This was also quality time.

-BONUS 3ZUN-

It was still new, the three of them together, learning what had changed and what had not after all these years, but Nie Mingjue was more than willing to put the work in to figure it out. Unfortunately, it was months before any of them had a few weeks free for travel that didn't involve politicking and could instead just be a relaxing exploration, an integration of a relearned relationship dynamic. 

And ever the strategist, ever the impeccable planner, Jin Guangyao had scheduled a specific night, set up a sleepover with Jin Ling for A-Fu over with Jiang Yanli and Jin Zixuan, and had prepared everything at Koi Tower. And it had begun oh so well with plenty of enthusiasm and excitement--that is, until the familiar, distant, ever-approaching siren wail that was their child reached them even through the wall not even 5 minutes in. They froze.

“Maybe it’s not him,” A-Yao muttered against Nie Mingjue’s mouth, not moving a muscle.

“Oh, it is,” Xichen sighed with more affection than exasperation as the sound grew even closer and regretfully peeled himself away from A-Yao’s neck, making the man growl in annoyance.

Usually, this was when the irritation might set in for Nie Mingjue as well, but seeing the break from A-Yao’s usual cool collection was actually quite amusing. With a groan, he let his head fall down onto Nie Mingjue’s shoulder with a thump, hands still fastened in Nie Mingjue’s hair as Lan Xichen swiftly slid on one, two, three layers, fastened them deftly and slipped out of the room. “Oh?” Nie Mingjue questioned the growl indulgently and grinned as his head came back up, eyes burning as his mouth locked into a wide, very fake smile.

“I love that boy,” A-Yao said deliberately, through his teeth.

“You do,” Nie Mingjue affirmed, at least trying to hold in his chuckle for courtesy’s sake. “We know.”

“I love that boy,” he repeated, tightening his fingers and shaking Nie Mingjue’s head a little, as if for emphasis, eyes growing wider still. 

Mingjue couldn’t help it; he laughed, even as he tried to placate him. “A-Yao, we have time, we can wait.”

“You would think,” A-Yao agreed fiercely, not-smile not wavering. “But considering the effort it took to get us all into bed together, I would really rather not have to.”

Though he leaned down and nuzzled into the soft hollow beneath his ear, he kept grinning against his neck. “Who knows, maybe he can calm him enough to send him back.”

“When has Er-ge ever sent him back?” A-Yao muttered above his head, voice almost petulant. 

“You usually don’t either.”

“Extenuating circumstances. There was a plan.”

Nie Mingjue chuckled. The wail petered out abruptly as it reached its loudest point, just down the hall, and was replaced by distant, wordless murmuring. The both of them froze again, listening closely to the voices, unable to glean the content of the conversation--2 adults, one of them their Xichen, the other a woman--perhaps Jiang Yanli-- and a small, tearful A-Fu. They waited, Nie Mingjue thoughtfully skimming his mustache over the thin skin over A-Yao’s artery until the other man gave him an irritable tweak on the ear. 

A low, kind question. A sniffly affirmative. A-Yao cursed, quietly and viciously, and practically threw himself off of Nie Mingjue’s lap to collapse on his back onto the bed. Grinning again, Nie Mingjue stood and pulled his under robe back on. “You love that boy,” he reminded over his shoulder as he opened the door to their room. 

“You know what else I love?” was hissed back as the door closed behind him, and Mingjue almost hurt himself stifling his snort. Apparently, he was wrong--only Xichen was in possession of infinite patience, after all.

[cordonian-literature]

The Aftermath - Ch. 9

Quality Time

SUMMARY: Liam gets a chance to talk with Gabriel and Eleanor

Word Count: ~5.5k

Warning: Mention of character death

A/N: this one’s a little longer, but is hopefully a bit uplifting compared to the previous chapters. 

*All characters belong to Pixelberry, except those that are unique to my story (I’ve also used some characters and fictional instances from Donna Tartt’s “The Goldfinch”)*

Catch up here!

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✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧

- Liam - 

The morning after they had bought gifts and candies for Gabriel and Eleanor, Liam and Drake were in the hotel trying to figure out which gifts would lighten the children up quickest.

Once they picked out the gifts Liam was going to give first, the limousine brings them to the hospital.

Drake’s phone rings after he steps out of the car. He looks at it for a moment, then puts it back in his pocket.

“Who is it?” Liam asks, looking back.

“It’s… uh… Jessica.”

“You should take it,” Liam advises. He wonders, I thought they were no longer together? The last time I heard about her was more than three months ago. Turning back to Drake, he goes, “Have you talked to her recently?”

“No, actually.” He takes his phone out of his pocket again and stares at it.

“She’s probably worried about where you are.”

Drake and Liam stare at each other for a moment. Finally, Drake nods stiffly. “I’ll see you up at Riley’s room?”

“Of course,” Liam says, and walks into the hospital.

All of the nurses and doctors on Riley’s floor knew Liam by now. They all wave and politely greet him. Liam finds himself melting back into stoic expressions through the uneasiness. Even though him and Riley had been properly re-introduced, she still didn’t remember enough for Liam to tell her how much she still meant to him. He did his best to keep his hopes up — now that Gabriel was in the picture, there was no way he was going to let his own worries and Charlotte Brooks’ aggressive behavior keep him from getting Riley back in his life. Liam consoled himself with the fact that all he had to do was wait for her memory to come back. After that, things would get easier.

He opens up Riley’s hospital room door to find Gabriel snuggled under Riley’s arm on the side of her bed, the doctor writing something on a clipboard, and another woman in a chair next to Eleanor.

They all turn to stare at him. “Hey, Liam,” Riley says, but there’s no emotion in it. There’s no hint of resentment or love or anything in between. He’s a stranger to her.

The doctor motions Liam out of the room, the shopping bags still in his hand.

“Your Majesty,” the doctor says. “We’ve good news. Since the kids have been bringing in some photographs for the past few days, Riley’s gotten some of her memory back.”

Liam takes in a sharp breath. “Does she…?”

“No, she doesn’t remember you or any of your friends. In fact, there’s still a significant part of her life that she can’t recall. Like the trip to Europe you all mentioned, her wedding, her son’s birth, though she does remember the early stages of her daughter’s life and each of her children's birthdates.”

“That’s good to hear.” Tears and disappointment well at the edges of Liam’s eyes, but he easily keeps them in as though it’s second nature.

“We understand that it isn’t much,” the doctor continues, “but she’s making wonderful progress. She knows enough about her daily life for her to be able to function properly around other people and in society. But there will be certain skills that she’ll have to relearn. Like how to cook some recipes she may have memorized, how to play sports, dancing, and some hobbies.”

“Understandable,” Liam states. He sees Drake from the corner of his eye, who comes to stand next to Liam.

“We plan on discharging her later today, there’s just some more paperwork to be filled out. She’s going to need crutches and a wheelchair due to her leg injury, though we suspect that it’ll fully heal within the next three weeks, but only if she mostly stays off of it. We’re still going to have her come in for weekly check-ups though. ”

“Of course. I will do everything in my power to make sure she sees a full recovery.”

The doctor smiles. “Oh, and… just to let you know, when you and your friends try to re-teach her everything or try to jog her memory, stressing her out has the tendency to reverse the whole process.”

“Is that a permanent side effect?” Drake butts in. “If you stress her out she starts forgetting things?”

“No, it’ll likely go away once she fully recovers, but it never hurts to be extra careful.”

Liam thanks the doctor and then turns back to Riley’s door. They step back inside, where Gabriel and Eleanor are laughing at something the mysterious woman said.

Everyone stops laughing and notices the two men standing at the door. The woman stands and extends her hand out to Liam.

“Oh, hi! You must be Drake? Or Liam? No… Maxwell?”

Drake unsuccessfully stifles a chuckle.

“I am Liam, yes.” He shakes the woman’s hand, who goes red. “This is Drake.”

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry! I’m Rowan, Gabriel and Eleanor’s Godmother!”

“Nice to meet you.” Drake holds out his hand.

The room falls quiet and everyone looks between one another.

“Um…,” Rowan begins. “I’m going to go check in with the doctor about the paperwork and everything… so I’ll be back later.” She ruffles Eleanor’s hair on her way out.

“And I’ll go call Maxwell,” Drake declares. “Figure out where the Beaumonts are.”

Once the two of them are gone, Riley, Gabriel, and Eleanor stare at Liam. He’s been holding in his words and feelings for so long that Liam can barely contain it any longer. There’s so many things he wants to tell each of them, but he doesn’t want to stress Riley nor does he want to overwhelm the children.

Eleanor points at the large bag Liam still holds. “What’s in there?” she asks.

“I have gifts for you two.” Liam reaches into the bag, and pulls out two gift-wrapped Lego sets. Gabriel and Eleanor don’t move out of their seats, so he leans over the foot of Riley’s bed to hand it to them.

“Thank you,” they say.

“I also have candy for you both.” At that, their heads perk up. He goes into the bag and pulls out a smaller bag. I hope what Drake said about gummy candy was true, he thinks.

Liam takes out sour gummy worms and regular gummy bears.

“Which one do you like, Ella?” Liam hopes that he isn’t overstepping by using her nickname, but he didn’t want the girl to think that he was favoring Gabriel over her.

She shakes her head slightly, but in a small voice says, “I don’t like sour candy.”

“Gabe does,” Riley states, and the children smile at their mother’s words. Liam’s own heart swells as well; it was getting easier for Gabriel and Eleanor. He didn’t want them experiencing heartache over their mother. That was something Liam would not wish on any child, especially not ones he’s begun considering his own.

Liam hands each of them a pouch and they go about eating their snacks, their new toys momentarily forgotten.

Riley’s arm is still over Gabriel. She looks up at Liam, and they stare at each other awkwardly. He has a difficult time holding in the words that he’s so desperate to tell her — he wanted to do it away from the children, or at least not until he got a chance to talk to them separately.

He takes a deep breath, about to say something to her, but then they break eye contact when Gabriel starts coughing. Riley rubs a hand along his back, and Liam leans in to make sure he’s not choking.

Once he stops, Riley takes the bag of candy from him. “Maybe stay away from the sour candy for a bit?”

Gabriel nods, and Eleanor stands to pour some of her candy into her brother’s hands. Riley fusses over Gabriel for a few more moments, pushing a lock of hair off of his forehead and wiping some tears from his cheek.

“The doctor told me that your health has improved?” Liam breaks the silence.

She turns back towards him. “Yeah, thankfully. I feel a little bit like myself again. I mean… for the most part at least. When I think back on my life before I had Ella, it feels so… empty and blurry. Like I’m trying to look at some abstract painting in heavy fog, but I don’t know that it’s abstract, or if it’s even a painting.”

“Understandable,” he states. “It’s a difficult process.”

“Unfortunately it is.” She sighs. “I feel like there’s so much that I need to get back so I can solve all these problems. Like with you and your friends. Don’t get me wrong, I’m thankful that you all came to check in on me, and I’m sorry that I don’t remember your roles in my life. My mother told me about everything with Gabriel and you…. I just want to say that I’m so sorry—.”

Liam holds up a hand, stopping her. “Please, you have nothing to be sorry for.” Though there is a large part of him that feels betrayed by Riley for everything that she’s done and kept from him, he won’t allow her to feel guilty. After all, it was I who put her in this situation. I could have stopped it. I could have given her a better life. One that we could share. I should have done the right thing in the beginning.

She smiles at him, and then Charlotte Brooks comes into the room, followed by the doctor.

“We’re ready to bring you home!” Charlotte says. Once she sees Liam, her face sours, but the woman brings her attention back to her grandchildren. They’re told to get their things and wait outside while the doctor examines their Mama, and Charlotte sends Liam a look that gets him following after the children.

Rowan is on the other side of the door. She collects Gabriel and Eleanor in her arms, and shoots Liam a sympathetic smile.

“Don’t be intimidated by Riley’s mom. She’s been overprotective of Gabey and Ellie ever since everything that’s happened to Riley.”

Liam gives her a tight smile, and her shoulders tense.

“Wait, I didn’t mean to blame you or anything! Just that… you know, she was… internationally shamed… ended up pregnant and alone after what she thought was supposed to be the best decision of her life.”

“I understand your meaning. I’m not exactly proud of how I allowed our relationship to continue. I should have given her what she deserved from the start.”

“I’m sure Riley would appreciate you saying that.”

Wanting to change the subject, Liam asks, “How long have you known Riley?”

“Oh! Her, Theo, and I all met in high school. Theo went to college in Cali, which is where he met their Godfather.” She squeezes Gabriel and Eleanor, who are still in her arms.

“Where is he now?”

“He’s in Italy at the moment. He and Theo ran the company together. He focused more on international outreach while Theo was the CEO.”

“We were supposed to go visit him last week,” Gabriel adds.

“I see.” Liam and the children regard one another, and before he can say anything else, Maxwell comes rushing over with Drake and the Beaumonts trailing behind.

“Hello there, baby blossoms!” he calls to them. They smile at their new nicknames. Liam feels a small fire in his heart. How is Maxwell able to get them to like him so quickly? What am I doing wrong?

Savannah and Drake walk up to their little group, with Bartie trailing behind. They notice Rowan first, and her and Savannah are introduced. “Hey, you two!” Savannah turns towards the children. “How’re you guys holding up?”

“Good,” Gabriel mumbles.

“Don’t know if you guys have met Bartie yet.” She pats her sons head. “You guys are all about the same age, right?”

“Nice to meet you.” Bartie holds out hand towards Eleanor, who stares at it for a moment before reluctantly shaking it. He repeats the process with Gabriel.

Bertrand walks up to the group, excusing himself for his tardiness, claiming he was on an important phone call. Him and Rowan are introduced. Before anyone can say anything more, the doctor opens up Riley’s door.

“We’re going to get her the wheelchair and crutches, then she’ll be free to go,” the doctor informs. She looks between Charlotte and Liam to add, “if there are any problems or concerns, please don’t hesitate to call.”

They nod and give their thanks, and Charlotte turns to the group. “I’m going to go call the driver. Make sure he’ll be down there when it’s time to leave.”

“Please, ma’am,” Liam says. “My car and driver are downstairs. We’d be happy to bring her back to her home.”

“Yes,” Bertrand continues. “We don’t mean to intrude, but we simply wish to make sure that Lady Riley returns home safely and that there are no further complications to her health.”

Mrs. Brooks opens her mouth to refuse the offer, but Rowan speaks up and says, “That’d be great. I’m sure Riley and the kids will like the company.”

Charlotte gives Rowan a brief look but says nothing.

A few hours later, Rowan declares that she will be bringing the children to get something to eat and then will take them back home. She offers to bring Bartie with, but he nervously shakes his head. Once Maxwell suggests that they both go, Bartie agrees.

Liam contemplated going along as well; he was desperately trying to find a way to talk to the children. He could see the anxiety pool in their eyes whenever he came near. Liam wanted to assure them that he would not harm them, and that he cared about their well-being.

But he decided to stay with Riley, silently hoping that the more time they spent near each other the chances of her remembering him would increase.

A few hours later, Riley is wheeled out of her room. Liam insists on pushing her chair. Charlotte carries her daughter’s things in a bag, while Drake walks slightly ahead of them with the crutches, opening doors and pushing buttons.

Once they reach the car, Riley attempts to stand. Her mother holds out a hand to her, but Liam protests.

“Please, let me,” he says. He puts one arm under Riley’s knees and wraps his other arm around her back, gently picking her up and placing her in the car. He’s almost shocked of how light she feels, but relishes being this close to her again. Riley blushes and thanks him, but she doesn’t meet his eyes.

The drive towards the penthouse is quiet. Liam, Riley, and Charlotte avoid looking at each other, while Bertrand, Savannah, and Drake looked between them expectantly.

Outside Riley’s building, Liam helps her back onto her wheelchair.

“I better learn how to use those crutches,” Riley says as Liam wheels her into the lobby. “Don’t want you breaking your back having to carry me everywhere.” She gives a nervous chuckle.

“Don’t worry about it,” Liam tells her. “It’s nothing. Really.”

She shoots him a grateful smile.

No one talks during the ride up the elevator either. Once they reach the floor, Charlotte gets out first and leads the way down the hall.

Once they enter the penthouse, Liam wheels Riley towards the couches. He gives a quick glance around the lavishly decorated room, noticing pictures of when Gabriel and Eleanor were babes and toddlers. There were some of Riley, giving a wide smile to the person on the other side of the camera. There were some with Gabriel and Eleanor with a man Liam assumed to be Theodore. His heart clenched again. If he had done the right thing all those years ago, that could’ve been him in those pictures with them.

Liam turns back to Riley, picking her up and placing her on the couch. Him and Drake look around for pillows to give her. She blushes again and thanks them.

Rowan, Maxwell, and the kids appear from another room. While Gabriel and Eleanor go to greet their mother, Rowan announces that she brought dinner for everyone, which is in the kitchen.

Everyone eats in the dining room except for Riley, her mother, and Rowan who sit together and talk quietly.

When everyone’s finished eating, the Beaumonts bid their farewells and leave, Drake following them hesitantly, looking back at Riley all the while.

Charlotte pulls Liam to the side, out of earshot from Riley and the kids.

“Liam, I understand that you’re worried about Riley’s well-being,” Charlotte beings through slightly clenched teeth. “But understand that this is my daughter we’re talking about. You’ve wronged her and her children once before, and I’m not going to let that happen again… but I won’t stop you from being a father to Gabriel.”

Liam nods. “Of course. I regret any harm I’ve brought Riley, and will make it my duty to make sure that neither her or the children are ever wronged in such a way again.”

She scans his face for a moment. “Alright, then. I don’t have anything to lend you for the night. It would be better if you came back in the morning.”

Liam gives her his thanks. He offers to help Riley into her room, but the women say that they’ll manage. As much as he wishes he could stay, he says his goodbyes and leaves.

And though physically he’s back in his hotel room, with Drake on the other side of the wall, he feels a string connecting his heart to Riley, Gabriel, and Eleanor: where he feels like he’s meant to be. Liam falls asleep that night with a heavy sense of emptiness in his chest.

…

Around 7 o’clock the next morning, Liam is awake and ready to leave. He contemplates waking Drake and bringing him along, but decides to let him rest and text him his whereabouts later.  

When he knocks on the door to their home and no one opens, Liam is worried that he may have arrived too early. Finally, Rowan opens it. “Hey, there! Come on in.” She steps to the side and allows him to enter. “Riley isn’t awake yet, but I think this is around the time the kids usually get up.” She watches him as he looks around the living room, his eyes resting on different pictures of Riley and Gabriel. “Also could we... talk for a moment?”

He turns his head, concerned. “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, yeah, no, it’s nothing like that,” she says. “I just wanted to let you know that… Gabe and Ellie are a little… I don’t know… shy… around you? I guess you could say? And I just… feel really bad for them you know? Like, Riley was their rock… I mean she was an amazing mom. Like sometimes I wish she was my mom. This one time when they all went to Central Park, Gabe fell and had to get a lot of stitches on his forehead, and it was not good looking. Like… he had that monstrosity on his head for a month. Anyway, some kids at school teased him about it. It was borderline bullying. Theo was the one who ended up complaining to the teacher, but man… when Riley found out, I kid you not she was about to beat up a couple six-year-olds. We calmed her down and she ended up talking to Gabe about it, but he experienced such a confidence boost after that. Like… he ended up standing up for himself and all that. We were so proud of him.”

Liam smiles at her words, a vague familiarity in it. “Heh. Riley has a tendency to inspire the people around her.”

“She really does.” Rowans twiddles her thumbs for a few seconds, then starts again. “Anyway… what I wanted to tell you was that I think it would be best if you talked to them. In private. About… you being Gabe’s dad and what that means since Theo’s outta the picture and Riley’s not doing so good.”

He nods. “I’ve meant to, but I don’t want to be too direct with them. And I don’t want to upset Mrs. Brooks either.”

“Oh! I know!” she exclaims. “Why don’t you take them out to breakfast? Like, right now? Riley’s mom isn’t up yet, so she can’t stop you… and if she wakes up I’ll do my best to keep her from getting mad.”

“Yes, that sounds like a wonderful idea. As long as the children are alright with it?”

“Oh, I’m sure they’ll be fine. Pretty sure they need some answers badly. I’ll go get them ready!” She runs off.

Liam walks around the living room while he waits, staring at snapshots of Riley’s life with Theodore. He wondered if her smiles and her joy were genuine. He wondered if after the pictures had been taken, or even before, did she think of him? Did she wonder how he was doing? Did she check Cordonian news just to see him, the same way that he would pull up old articles of her during the social season just so he wouldn’t forget what she looked like? Did she ever look back on that photo of them together on top of the Eiffel Tower, or had she deleted it?

He finds himself following framed pictures into a small hallway. There are many doors, some opened, some closed. He knows this isn’t where the bedrooms are, since Rowan had ran off in the other direction. The door closest to him is open, so he pokes his head in.

It’s a study. The desk is on the far side of the room, facing Liam. There’s an open laptop, a neat pile of papers, and a few more framed photographs. Behind the desk is a large window overlooking the city. Liam steps into the room, walking towards the window. He takes a moment to regard the city, looking down at the fast paced people. Turning back towards the desk, he sees pictures of only Gabriel and Eleanor. A flash of envy and hatred runs through Liam’s viens. Who did Theodore think he was, acting as a father to Liam’s son? And then fathering another child with the woman that Liam loved, and then not keeping a picture of her on his desk? He looks up from the table, and his breath catches. Oh.

A large portrait of Riley graced the other wall. Whoever sat in the desk would see the portrait at all times of the day. In the painting, Riley wore a wedding dress. He imagined seeing her walking down the aisle in it, and he swallowed a lump in his throat. She carried a bouquet of what could either be peonies or roses. Behind her was a beautiful expanse of colorful trees that accentuated the beauty of her dress. They had an autumn wedding.

He walks towards the portrait, eager to be closer to the mere essense of her, when he hears voices from the direction of the living room. Liam walks out, plastering a smile over his face.

“Ready to go?” he says to them. They nod their heads, and Liam is glad to see smiles on their faces.

In the elevator, he wonders if he should attempt small talk on them, but Gabriel speaks up and asks, “Where are we going?”

Dumbfounded, Liam says, “Oh. I didn’t think about that. Where do you usually go to get breakfast?” Liam wishes he had asked Drake the name of the restaurant he had got the bagels from.

“The kitchen,” Eleanor states plainly, her smile gone.

Gabriel chuckles. “When Mom doesn’t cook, we got Dunkin Donuts sometimes.”

“Is that nearby?” Liam asks.

“Uh… I know there’s a lot of them close to us, but I don’t really know where they are.”

“Oh!” Eleanor exclaims, suddenly enthusiastic. “Can we go to the Petty Cookie Dean?”

“Of… course…?” Liam thinks he misheard her.

“She means Le Pain Quotidien,” Gabriel explains. “It’s Mom’s and Aunt Rowan’s favorite place.”

“Oh, is it French?” Liam asks, glad to have finally started a conversation.

“Um….” Gabriel shrugs. “I don’t think so, but they have croissants.”

“Chocolate ones, too!” Eleanor speaks up.

“I can’t wait,” Liam exclaims.

“Can we take the subway?!” Eleanor asks, looking up at him. He notices how much her features look like Riley’s: everything from the tilt of her chin to the small hairs on the top of her forehead. Her dark green eyes were the only contrasting thing between them.

“Actually, I have a driver and a car waiting downstairs,” he tells them.

Eleanor pouts and looks away from him. Liam suddenly feels like he’s failed them. He didn’t want to go in the subway because he was afraid that he would get lost, and would therefore lose the children as well.

“If you two know how to get there,” he speaks up, not wanting to disappoint them, “then we can use the subway.”

“Okay!” Eleanor exclaims in an adorably high pitched voice that reminds Liam of a small squeaky toy. The elevator doors open, and she leads them out of the building. They pass by Bastien, who is holding the car door open. Liam shakes his head when they walk by, and Bastien respectfully nods.

She leads them down a flight of stairs in the middle of the street. There are large crowds of people coming in and out, and Liam puts a hand on each of their shoulders. They walk down until they reach a row of turnstiles.

“You have to swipe your MetroCard through that thing,” Gabriel directs.

“Where do I get a... MetroCard?” Liam asks, looking around to see people pulling cards out of their pockets and walking through the turnstiles.

“It’s okay, I have one.” Gabriel pulls a yellow card out from his pocket. He swipes the card and pushes himself and his sister through, then hands the card back to Liam.

He swipes the card and pushes, but the turnstile doesn’t budge. He swipes again, and when it doesn’t work for the third time, someone from behind Liam swipes their card and slightly nudges him forward. He goes through smoothly and turns to say thank you, but they’ve already walked on.

Gabriel takes the card back from Liam. “Sometimes people do that.” Eleanor walks down another flight of stairs and they follow.

The sound of the train running past deafens Liam’s ears for a moment, and he can’t hear anything else. Gabriel and Eleanor stop walking, so Liam stands beside them.

Many children carrying backpacks pass by with adults trailing behind them. Gabriel and Eleanor wave at them. The other children wave back, and their parents send tight smiles in Liam’s direction. A little girl comes over to quickly hug Eleanor before getting on a train that arrived on the right side of the station.

Liam motions towards it, silently asking if they should get on, but they both shake their heads.

When the train leaves and he can hear himself think again, Liam asks them, “Did you know those children?”

They both nod. “We go to the same school as them.”

“Ah, I see.... Do you both know which train we’re supposed to go on?”

“We have to get on four or five or six and then we get off around eighty sixth street,” Gabriel explains.

“And then we have to walk a little bit,” Eleanor continues.

They turn back towards the train tracks, and an elderly man approaches Liam, who protectively puts a hand on each of the children’s shoulders.

“Excuse me, sir?” the old man says. “Do you know how I could get to the bus terminal?”

Before Liam gets a chance to say he doesn’t know, Eleanor asks him, “Port Authority?”

The old man looks down at her and nods.

They both walk out of Liam’s grasp and lead the man towards a large poster in the middle of the station. 

“Port Authority is over here,” Gabriel directs, pointing towards the edge of the map. “And then we’re over here.” He points towards a space next to Central Park.

“These are the train names!” Eleanor adds, pointing towards small letters next to the colorful lines.

“Thank you, tiny humans,” the old man says, who focuses his attention on further examining the map. 

“When did you two learn how to navigate the subway?” Liam asks them, slightly impressed.

“Ella doesn’t know that much yet, but Dad taught me when I was her age. It’s just memorization, but most of the time you need the map. Dad said that even if we drive everywhere we should still know the basics.” Liam feels Gabriel’s shoulders tense and jump up. “I mean! I mean my not… dad.”

Liam laughs a little and Eleanor does, too. “It’s alright,” Liam tries to reassure him. “You don’t have to worry about what you call him or I. You can refer to me with whatever you feel comfortable with.” He hopes that his words ease Gabriel.

After a few moments, Liam’s phone rings. He takes it out to check that it’s a call from Olivia. “Hello?” he answers.

“Hello, Liam,” she greets. 

“Olivia, is everything alright?” Liam glances at the children, who are staring up at him. 

“There’s something important you need to—.” The train arrives, and he can’t hear her voice through the noise.

When the train stops, Gabriel and Eleanor walk in. Liam follows. “Olivia, could you repeat what you said?”

She doesn’t answer him, and the line goes quiet. He looks down at his phone to make sure she hasn’t hung up on him. 

“Phones don’t work in the subway sometimes,” Eleanor informs him. 

Liam decides to call Olivia later. 

When they reach their stop, the children stand, and Eleanor grabs Liam’s hand, pulling him out of his seat and out the train.

Gabriel and Eleanor expertly lead Liam down loud streets and into a cozy cafe.

They wait in line, and when it comes their turn, Eleanor asks for mini pancakes and orange juice, while Gabriel settles for oatmeal with berries and apple juice. They look over at Liam, waiting for him to give an order. He looks around and asks for a croissant with a cup of coffee.

Liam pays, adding in a tip, and they’re told to take a seat.

Gabriel immediately picks up a conversation. “So... Grandma said that you’re from Europe?” 

“Yes,” Liam answers. “I live in Cordonia.”

“Do you have a business job like Daddy?” Eleanor questions. “Lots of Mama and Daddy’s friends were business people.”

“I have a government position as a job.”

“Does Cordonia have a president?” Eleanor continues. “Do you work for the president?”

Liam chuckles. “No, actually. They have a king.”

“What’s his name?” Gabriel interrogates.

He laughs again, wondering if he should tell them the full truth. In a low voice he says, “I am the king.” For the first time in his life, he hopes that the title will impress them. He wants them to ask more questions so they can each get to know one another.

Instead, they stare at him. Eleanor squints. “You’re lying,” she claims.

“I... I swear I’m not!” Liam claims, taken aback.

“You’re not a king!” she exclaims. “Kings wear fancy outfits and crowns!”

He lowers his voice, hoping that no one heard her and would notice Liam. “I promise you, I’m not lying. I’ll bring you to Cordonia one day and prove it to you.”

At that, their faces fall. Liam almost asks them what’s wrong before the waiter comes and puts their food and drinks in front of them.

The children take a few bites of their food, eyes downcast. Liam wonders what he said wrong.

In a small voice, Eleanor asks, “Are you gonna only bring Gabe back with you?”

Liam takes a moment to consider her words. Are they worried that I might separate them?

“Of course not,” he reassures them. “If your mother agrees… then I would like to bring the three of you back with me. But I won’t make you do anything you don’t want to.”

“What about Grandma?” Gabriel asks.

“If she wants to come as well, then she can come.” He smiles at them, and the worry leaves their faces. He hopes that he’s addressed all of their concerns, but doesn’t pester them to ask more questions; the happier and less stressed they seem, the more Liam’s joy increases.

For the rest of the meal, Liam lets the children talk about their friends at school and stories from their dance and soccer classes. The smiles on their faces are contagious, and soon Liam is laughing with them. Once it’s time to leave, Liam asks them if they know where they could get cronuts from, so they can bring some back for Riley. When they shake their heads, he grabs three chocolate croissants for Riley, Gabe, and Ella, then allow the children to lead him back to their home.

[strawberriestyles]

Chapter 17

(Banner made by sweet sunshine @harry-nofookingway-styles​)

Harry X OFC (AU)

Sequel to Brutality: In which Melody and Harry must relearn how to navigate one another among a flurry of changes.

Read previous parts here.

Author’s note: FINALLY HARRY SPEAKS A LIL. This chapter is a bit different but I hope y’all enjoy it anyway. Please, let me know! When you’re finished reading, please consider donating to the Black Covid Relief Fund!!! Black people are often disproportionately affected by medical emergencies. If you can’t donate, find some petitions to sign or another way to continue helping! Xx

Harry had barely slept. He watched the sun rise, painting the west wall of Melody’s room in rich pinks and golds, unwilling to leave the bed. He didn’t know how she’d feel if she woke and he wasn’t next to her. In fact, he didn’t know how she would feel when she woke and he was.

The answer came not long after he began to wonder.

Melody blinked her eyes open, facing the wall beside the bed. Her head felt weighted, like she’d had too much to drink. And she probably had, now that she thought about it. She usually rationed herself with wine.

The memory of wine triggered the memory of the events at dinner’s end. Melody had hoped, at first, that she’d had an incredibly vivid nightmare. But the wine was still sweet on her tongue, and the blood spattering the restaurant’s floor was not something that would come in dreams. She blinked again at the wall, dreading the day. But eventually she turned onto her back.

Harry was studying the marks in the ceiling when Melody shifted beside him. She watched his eyes begin to drift toward her face before snapping skyward again. He stiffened, wondering if she would speak to him. Wondering if she might climb right over him and pretend he didn’t exist.

“How could you do that?” she asked, the first words of the morning. Her voice was soft. Harry was suddenly grateful that this conversation had not taken place the night before.

“I...” Harry closed his eyes. It was ironic that now the pull of sleep threatened to keep them shut, when he needed to be alert. He fought to stretch them open and then looked down at the bruises dotting his knuckles. “I didn’ do it to upset you,” he finally answered. “Can yeh believe that?”

Melody sighed. “I believe that you don’t try to hurt me intentionally, yes.”

“‘M frustrated. I’ve already told yeh that, but ‘s like there’s this buzzing in my whole body and I can’ get rid of it unless I hit someone.”

“Sean is not some stranger you can knock around, Harry.” Melody sat up, bending her legs to hug her knees. “He doesn’t deserve that. I don’t deserve this. You accused me of sleeping with him. And I know that it was just a fucked up excuse to fight, but what if I hadn’t? What if I hadn’t known that? Do you understand how it feels to hear you say that?”

Harry’s heart leaped. Out of place, somehow, closer to his stomach than in his chest. He shook his head slowly. “I didn’ mean it,” he murmured.

“You keep saying things you don’t mean, Harry.” Melody released a short laugh, but it was the most humorless sound Harry had ever heard. “Do you think there aren’t consequences for that? You’re sorry for it after, so it’ll just go away? It doesn’t go away. I still remember you saying those things.

“And I keep forgiving you,” Melody continued, looking at the west wall, which was fading into a magnificent yellow as the sunrise ended. Her voice cracked and Harry worried that she was close to tears again. “And my heart fucking aches every time you do something like this without thinking about me, about how I might feel. Because I do think about you. I think about you in almost every single thing I do. And it’s not fair.”

Melody wiped the silent tears from her cheeks, relieved by her own honesty, apprehensive of Harry’s response.

Harry rubbed his eyes. Melody looked fully at him for the first time this morning and noticed how tired he appeared, the dark circles rimming his eyes, the drawn look of his face. She almost sympathized, remembering his gentle caresses when she had trouble sleeping.

“‘S not fair,” he agreed, swallowing thickly. “‘M so sorry, Mel. If I could take it back this time, I really would. And not just so yeh wouldn’ be angry. I fucked up.”

“I’m not angry, Harry,” Melody said, turning away when he looked back at her. “I’m not. I can’t be angry anymore.”

Harry struggled to pull himself up, leaning against the windowsill. His heart hammered within his chest as she avoided his eyes again. This felt like anger.

“Well, I am angry.” Melody’s gaze finally flickered to meet his. He found that he couldn’t hold it. “I’ve been angry for a long time and I don’ know how to let it out any other way. It shouldn’ have been Sean, but—Christ, at least he can hit back.”

Melody watched him lift a hand and prod at the edges of his nose. She pressed her lips into a thin line. “He shouldn’t have to hit back, Harry. You are out of control.”

“‘M not just—”

“You need a therapist,” Melody said, and Harry fell very quiet. He waited a few breaths to absorb what she’d said.

“I don’ need—”

“You do,” she insisted, sitting up straighter, as if it might lend her words more weight. “This is the most you’ve talked to me since I’ve known you, Harry, and it didn’t come until after you attacked Sean, after you said...what you said.” She drew in a deep breath. “You need to work out whatever’s going on in your head, and you won’t let me help. I’ve tried. So you need to talk to someone else.”

Melody watched Harry’s expression close off. She glanced at the greenery above his head and noticed the brown edges protruding from one of the pots. Her favorite plant was dying and she hadn’t noticed because she’d been so caught up in everything else that had been going on around her.

She waited for another minute, allowing Harry to form some type of response. But the silence persisted. And when she grew sick of waiting she unfolded her legs and lifted herself over him to leave the room.

***

“So Harry, what brings you here today?”

Harry still had his jacket on, zipped to his chest, prepared for a quick getaway. He scratched at the leather of the armchair he sat in with one fingernail, a nervous tick. Nervous was not an emotion familiar to him.

“My…my girlfriend,” he answered, low in his throat.

“What’s her name?”

“Melody.”

The therapist smiled, scribbling over the notepad she held in her lap. She glanced up when she’d finished, watching Harry scratch and tap at the arm of his chair, bounce the ball of his foot on the floor.

“Did Melody ask you to come?”

Harry nodded, now drawing his ankle up and over his other knee. He glanced out the window and watched the light at the next intersection shift from red to green, listened to impatient horns sound.

“Would you like to tell me about her?” the doctor prompted. Harry had already forgotten her name. Bidel or Beetle, something like that.

“What about her?”

“Well, how did you two meet?”

Harry breathed out a dry laugh. He pressed his lips together, but fought the part of him that wanted to keep silent and launched into a retelling of middle school, the bullies and his brother and Melody, and his first boxing class.

“You’ve been dating since sixth grade?” she asked. Beutel. Her name was Dr. Beutel.

“No, tha’s just when we met. I met her again a little over a year ago.”

Dr. Beutel scribbled feverishly. “It’s hard for me to believe you’ve lived in the States since you were that young. Your accent is rather distinct.”

“I moved back,” Harry informed her. “We moved back to Cheshire that year. I got kicked out of school.”

The therapist frowned, laying her pen down flat on her notepad. “For fighting,” she said, unquestioning.

Harry nodded.

“Do you fight professionally?”

Harry’s lips puckered. “Not anymore.”

“And how did...” she gestured to his face, scabbing cuts and yellowing bruises.

Harry sighed. “Uh, tha’s why she wanted me to come here. I kind of fought Sean. He’s my...my friend. Well, he was my trainer, really. And now he’s not. Now he’s her trainer.”

“Melody’s.”

“Yeah.”

Dr. Beutel shook her head almost imperceptibly. She stroked the pendant on her necklace once and then crossed her legs, pulled her notepad closer.

“Okay, how about we start from the beginning? Your family.”

Harry drew a hand over his face, carefully avoiding his nose. “Not my favorite subject.”

“So I’ve guessed.” She smiled wanly. “You’ve talked a little bit about your brother. Half-brother, right? What about your parents? Do you get along?”

“With my mum. Haven’ talked to my dad in almost six years.” Harry was surprised at his own bluntness.

“And why’s that?”

“Because he doesn’ give a fuck about me. Instead of protectin’ me he let Colton live in our house.”

“And do you think Colton would hurt you?”

Harry barked out a laugh. He’d forgotten that this woman didn’t know about the strangest parts of his life yet. She only had snippets.

“He shot me last year,” he deadpanned, “in the head.” He pulled back the hair brushing his left ear to reveal the pockmarked scars in his scalp. “And I was in a coma all summer. Sorry, I should’ve led with that.”

Dr. Beutel froze, staring at him, her fingers hovering over her pen.

“Oh, also my mum has brain cancer. She’s been in and out of hospitals since we moved back to Cheshire.”

Harry waited while his therapist began to reconcile this with what she already knew about him. The seconds ticked by. She wrote in her notepad without speaking another word to him and then she glanced at her watch and gasped.

“Oh, Harry, I’m so sorry. We’re over time for today. Can you come back next week?”

Harry sighed. He didn’t want to come back. Today had felt like a joke. It didn’t make him feel any better, it hadn’t even tapped into the restlessness sizzling just beneath the surface of his skin. But he nodded as he left.

“I look forward to seeing you,” Dr. Beutel said as he closed the door.

***

A week and a very meager amount of progress with Melody later, Harry sat in the same chair, somehow more relaxed. Melody had barely spoken to him since the morning after her birthday, not that he blamed her. But if he felt lonely before, now even Bea paid him the slightest mind. And Josie was still pissed that he’d put her leftovers at risk.

“How are you doing?” Dr. Beutel asked.

“Peachy.”

“You sure you didn’t mean cheeky?”

Harry grinned for the first time in what felt like an eternity. He tipped his shoulder up. “Not completely sure.”

Dr. Beutel smiled back. She slid her feet to one corner of her armchair, twirling the pen she held between her fingers.

“Just before our last session ended, you told me about your mother. She has recurring cancer?”

Harry nodded, his smile slipping faster than the changing traffic light outside the window.

“Are you close with your mother?”

“Well,” Harry began, stalling for a moment to ponder the question, “I guess yeh could say that. I haven’ seen her in almost two years but I talk to her a lot.”

“Has Melody spoken with her?”

Harry felt his own face contort. “Uh, no. I call my mum when she’s not around.”

“Why is that?”

He huffed out a thoughtful breath. “I dunno, really.”

Dr. Beutel began to write. Her pen twisted slowly across a clean page of her notepad. “Do you think,” she asked, without looking up, “that it might be because you separate your life into two categories?”

“What?”

“Your life in England, your family, I think that you might compartmentalize them. Separate from Melody, I mean. And even boxing. I think that Melody feels outside of that space for you, and that might be why it bothers you so much—her fighting and you not. It might seem like she’s bleeding across the borders that you’ve put in place.”

Harry didn’t know how to respond. He glanced down at the ugly scabs that spotted his knuckles, still pulling at his skin every time he stretched his hand.

“You live with Melody?”

Harry nodded, still not meeting the doctor’s eyes. He was worried what else she might see if he were to look fully at her.

“And did you live with her before? Before your injury, I mean.”

“No.”

From this angle, he could still see Dr. Beutel nodding to her notes.

“So, Harry,” she began, piecing together the information that she’d gathered, “did you have any girlfriends back in England?”

Harry shook his head, clearing his throat. “No, ‘m not really one for relationships.”

“Well, maybe you weren’t before, but I think you are now.”

“What?” He looked up at last and Dr. Beutel was smiling at him, her head tilted.

“Melody asked you to speak with a therapist. Would you ever have done that before? Would you talk about yourself this much with a stranger if it wasn’t for her?”

Harry was quiet again. This was something that had worried him for nearly a year. Half of the things he’d done since he began seeing Melody, he never would have dreamed of doing before her. This wasn’t the person he’d grown used to being.

“I’m sorry for everything that’s happened to you,” the therapist said, when he didn’t return the conversation. “You’ve experienced a lot in your life. A lot more than most people could claim to have experienced in an entire lifetime, but I think you’re in a good place right now. It sounds to me like Melody cares very much for you. And even if it hasn’t been a conscious thought, you feel like you don’t deserve it.”

“I don’!” Harry nearly shouted. He paused and sat back in his chair, collecting his emotions and lining them up. He knitted his fingers together over his stomach. “I don’. It was her fuckin’ birthday and I hit her trainer—”

“Your friend,” Dr. Beutel corrected. She hadn’t even flinched at his outburst. “You hit Sean, your friend. These two areas of your life—fighting and Melody—they’re blending and he’s a large player in that mix. Do you think you don’t deserve Melody because you picked a fight with Sean, or do you think you picked a fight with Sean because you feel like you don’t deserve Melody?”

Harry’s mind spun. “What, you mean like ‘m tryin’ to fuck up on purpose?”

“Perhaps,” she answered with a nod. “Perhaps some part of you is trying to find a way out.”

Harry sighed and sifted a hand through his hair, fingertips brushing his scars. “What should I do?”

The therapist laughed gently and shook her head. “I mean, I’m not a fortune-teller, Harry. I don’t know what will help you patch up your relationship and I don’t know what will let you out of it. But I do think you need to put in some positive effort if Melody means something to you. Try to redirect your aggression. Maybe go to one of her matches?”

The suggestion was quiet, soft, a mere idea. And Harry’s heart ticked uncomfortably at the sensation of being seen. Would anyone else have been able to untangle the complex knots of his life with the information he’d given Dr. Beutel? Would Melody? Harry wasn’t sure, and he didn’t know if he wanted anyone else to examine him this meticulously. But he said his thanks before he left, anyway, and the entire way back to the apartment, he felt like he was studying his own thoughts from a new perspective.

Chapter 18

[gokailyger84]

Not a fic but if I ever got around to writing one, it’d go like this. 

It’s been nearly a year since the incident with Katakuna.  NB and Danny are still making their way through their new relationship, taking time to relearn each other and help Danny stop his bad habits.  

Danny still feels guilty for what he’s done, even with NB’s forgiveness.  After seeing Aoichi’s sketchbook on NB’s bed, something NB likes to look through from time to time, he comes to a decision. He’s going to make things right.

While NB is out training, Danny enters his room and after paying his respects at the alter and promising Aoichi that he’ll fix this, he goes through NB’s chest full of scrolls.  Finding one he takes it along with his ninja gi that NB kept in his room as a keepsake.  He still can’t believe that he’s going to wear it again.

He goes to his room and puts up a sound barrier, before opening the scroll on his bed.  He doesn’t come out until later that evening when NB returns and they cook dinner together.  They relax in the living room, NB reading a book, while Danny watches a show.  He’s periodically glancing at NB and NB notices but doesn’t say anything, figuring whatever is the cause of Danny’s nervous tension, he’ll eventually let him know. 

When they go upstairs to bed, Danny flashes through several symbols and when NB turns towards him to kiss him good night, Danny presses two fingers to his forehead, causing a spark of chakra to flare within him.  NB stares at him in confusion but Danny just grins and kisses NB before going into his room.  NB shrugs the moment off and enters his own room. Just because he and Danny are together doesn’t mean his spontaneous habits have ended.

The next day, after making sure NB is gone for training, Danny makes his way down to the hangar below their house and activates the tiem musheen.  He had NB teach him how to use it a while ago.  Entering a set of coordinates, he vanishes in an instant.

Danny appears in the middle of a thick forest.  One that he recognizes.  After taking time to camouflage the tiem musheen as best as he can, he takes off into the trees.  He’s heading for NB’s village.  He doesn’t have much time.  He’d set the tiem musheen for a couple of hours before his clan's surprise raid.  

Running at top speed, Danny silently scales the perimeter wall and drops low to the ground, stealthily making his way to the village leader’s headquarters.  He manages to stay out of sight from the patrolling ninjas, mentally thanking NB for convincing him to pick back up on his training.  He was still a long way from NB’s skill level but he was feeling more comfortable with his reawakened abilities.

Reaching the hq, Danny monitors the movements of the occupants from the rafters.  He easily finds Aoichi and follows the cheerful child.  It’s clear he hasn’t been trained as a ninja, even Danny would have sensed being followed at that age.  Knowing this increases Danny’s guilt.  He truly had killed an innocent and harmless child without question.  Shaking his head, Danny steels himself.  He’s here to change that but he has to be careful.  If things went as he planned Aoichi would not die and Danny and NB would remain on their current paths.  Though Danny wished he could make his past self treat NB better, it was for the best that they go through the same beats in order to end up where they are now.  

Danny waited patiently, watching Aoichi draw happily in his notebook until he hears the alarms sound.  The attack had begun and ninja Daniel would soon appear.  Aoichi jumps to his feet, intent on going to find his father but is blocked by a figure in front of the door.  Danny flashes through several hand symbols as ninja Daniel draws his sword and slices it across Aoichi’s neck, severing his head in an instant.  Flicking the blood off his blade, ninja Daniel stares at the body a moment before vanishing out the window.  

Danny drops down from the rafters and rushes over to the futon closet and yanks it open to see a terrified Aoichi staring up at him. Danny lets out a sigh of relief that it worked.  In a trembling voice, Aoichi asks who he is and Danny smiles and says a friend of your big brother.  Aoichi’s eyes widen and he begins asking several questions.  Having always wondered about his missing brother.  With a laugh Danny helps him out of the closet and pats him on the head, telling him that one day he’ll get to meet his brother but in the meantime he should be happy and enjoy his  life.  With that Danny gathers up the fake body he substituted for Aoichi and with a final look at the boy, rushes out and back to the tiem musheen.

Aoichi is in awe at the stranger who saved him and tells his father who is struck by how close he came to losing him, especially after the reports say it was the notorious ninja Daniel who had come for his son. He immediately begins Aoichi’s ninja training.  Realizing that leaving his son defenseless is a mistake. He can’t lose the last of his family.  

Aoichi is surprised at his father’s change of heart and is excited to become a ninja like his parents and brother.  Aoichi learns the basics from his father but enters their village training, learning a much harsher and crueler way of ninjutsu. His thoughts never stray far from his missing brother.  He’s seen how losing him and his mother has affected his father and wants to bring their family together.  

Over the years Aoichi doesn’t forget what the stranger said but he has a goal now.  He’s become a strong ninja.  One his father is proud of.  Aoichi hopes his mother is proud as well.  He’s about to start his most important mission he requested.  Bring his brother back from the one who deceived him into deserting their clan and who attempted to assassinate him as a child.  NB will be forgiven as long as he swears allegiance to the clan.  Aoichi is sure NB will come back home to his family.  Ninja Daniel must pay for what he’s done and Aoichi will see to it that he does.  

Danny makes it back home without any problems and goes back into the house.  He feels a shift in his chakra and notices that he now has two sets of memories for the last year.  One where Katakuna showed up and took NB and one where he didn’t.  Danny can’t help but frown at the fact that he still treats NB badly in the Katakuna free memories.  That’s exactly why he learned the forbidden jutsu, so he and NB could still be together.

Walking into the kitchen he then notices the disturbed chakra energy lingering within.  He finds NB on the floor near the stove clutching his head, his expression filled with pain and confusion.  Danny is at first confused thinking he would return at the same time he left but it looks like he messed that up. Rushing over to NB, Danny drops to his knees and grabs him, asking what’s wrong.  “What did you do?!”  NB practically yells, wincing as another sharp pain goes through his head.  “My memories...they’re all messed up!  My father...I have a brother?  The two of us...we’re toget...Danny what’s going on?”  He asks, looking up at Danny with pleading pain filled eyes.

Danny doesn’t answer, his hands flying through symbols.  NB’s eyes widen further seeing the sequence for a forbidden jutsu.  “Danny wha-“. “Hush Brian.”  Danny orders as he presses two fingers to NB’s forehead.  The pain instantly vanishes and NB can feel his confusing memories rearranging neatly into two sets.  He falls forward into Danny’s arms in exhaustion and relief.  

Danny wraps his arms around NB and presses a kiss to his forehead.  “I’m sorry Brian.”  He says. NB grabs his hand and lightly squeezes it.  “You saved him...didn’t you.”  

Danny nods, not bothering to deny it. 

 “I had to.”

NB is unsure of how to feel.  On one hand he’s happy that he may be able to go visit and get to know his little brother, on the other hand he knows it can’t be that easy.  Not when it comes to time travel.  Something unexpected could always occur.  

It’s only a few days later when the unexpected happens.  NB is out training when he senses someone approaching him.  He’s initially confused that whoever is coming isn’t bothering to hide their presence.  For a moment he thinks it’s Danny but the chakra signature is off but it still feels familiar to him.  

NB waits patiently, making sure to keep his guard up.  There isn’t any aura of danger coming from the being but from the way they are moving, it’s clear they have been trained in ninjutsu as well.  

Seconds later, a being clad in black drops from the trees a few feet from NB.  Straightening up from a crouch, the being looks up at NB with bright green eyes.  NB feels his breath hitch, as memories of growing up amongst a sea of green, flood his mind.  

The being stares silently at NB as if assessing him while NB does the same.  The being is of medium build, slightly taller than NB but shorter than Danny.  His aura exudes confidence while also giving off a gentle demeanor.  

This mystery person, in a way, reminds NB of Danny.  

“I’ve finally found you.”  The ninja says, reaching up and pulling off his mask.  “Nii-san.”

NB eyes widen at the label, said with such fondness.  The green eyes plus the scar drawn across the bridge of his nose, mirroring NB’s own...this person could only be... 

“Ao-Aoichi?”  NB whispers in disbelief. 

The young man’s eyes light up with confusion, wondering why he can hear and not hear NB, before he shrugs it off and smiles, letting out a childish giggle.  His short black curls shake as he cocks his head to the side, looking over NB once more.

“Father said it was unlikely I’d find you but I proved him and everyone wrong.”  Aoichi walks over, standing before NB.  “I’m actually surprised you know who I am…”  He says, trailing off.  “We’ve never met before, right Nii-chan?”  

That was right. 

NB had never met Aochi before but because of Danny saving his memories of the other timeline, he knew of him and with that came all the pain he had to go through learning the truth of what Danny had unintentionally caused.  

Aoichi standing here now was his way of atonement.  His way of fixing things. 

But at what cost.

Letting out a sigh, NB reached up and pulled his mask off, dropping it to the ground.  Aoichi’s smile widens further, now fully seeing the big brother he’d always wanted to meet. The one he’d draw in his sketchbooks, going off a few pictures and his parents stories.

Throughout his childhood and his ninja training NB was always on his mind.  His goal.  Bringing their family back together and now after all these years, here he was right before him.  

NB let out a startled gasp, when Aoich suddenly pulled him into a tight hug, burying his face in NB’s shoulder.  

“I’ve dreamt of this moment for so long.”  He says, his voice cracking.  “I know ninjas shouldn’t do this.  Show emotion but…”  Pulling back, Aoichi stares into NB’s blue eyes and sees them soften as he smiles up at him.

“It’s alright.”  NB says.  “Sometimes emotions are necessary.”

Aoichi feels a tingle in the back of his mind and suddenly he feels even more aware of NB’s presence.  He was definitely going to have to ask how he was speaking with his mind.  NB then pulls him back into the hug, catching him off guard.  

“I’m glad you’re doing well, otoutou.” He says.

Aoich’s eyes widen.  For the first time in his life, hearing his big brother calling him little brother with a fondness that felt like they hadn’t just met.  That this moment meant as much to NB as it did to him.  Aoichi could feel his eyes stinging.  He ducked his head, trying to hide the tears.  

 The joy filling him, surrounding them both.  Finding what was once lost but now found.  

Aoichi couldn't remember a time when he was happier.  

“Hey Brian, you still out here?” 

Aoichi’s eyes snapped open as NB patted his back and pulled free of the hug.

“Over here, Danny.”  He called out.

His head turned slowly, eyes wide as he watched the source of his hatred walk out of the trees.  An easy going smile on his face, his smile widening further as he looked between NB and Aoichi.  As if he had something to be pleased about.  

How dare he?

Eyes narrowing, Aoichi stepped partially in front of NB, earning a confused look. 

He could feel his blood boiling, seeing the one who had caused so much strife in his village and in his family.  

The one who had taken his precious brother away.  

“Ninja Daniel.”

[loveisblindfanfictionbka]

Love Is Blind: Chapter Nine

Robyn brushed her hair up into a ponytail as she walked out of her closet into her bedroom. Leandra and Melissa sat on the large bed, both dressed in their nightwear as was Robyn.

“I can’t believe y’all really came all this way for some gossip,” Robyn murmured as she sat down on the bed and pulled a pillow between her legs.

“We also came to check on you,” Leandra replied.

“Sure you did. So ask away.”

“How are things going?”

“Good.”

“Are y’all still talking?”

“Yes, me and Chris are still talking.”

“Are you dating?’

“No, we are not dating.”

“Why not?”

“We’re relearning each other besides I’m still not in the mood for anything serious.”

“He’s your ex-husband, there’s already a touch of seriousness in this.”

“Exactly why we’re not dating. We got enough to deal with just by being exes.”

“So what is he like?” Melissa asked, “I can imagine things are a bit different now.”

“Things are very different,” Robyn replied as she grabbed her phone and scrolled to a recent picture they had taken together and handed it to Melissa, “he’s so much calmer and relaxed now.”

“Y’all look so good together but you always have. He’s aged well.”

“He did. Witnessing the change between the Chris I knew and this new Chris is interesting.”

“How is he as a dad?”

“He’s amazing. Anesa absolutely adores him.”

“How is your relationship with Anesa?”

“I’ve only been around her a few times but we get along pretty well. She’s so sweet and funny.”

“So what’s the big problem with dating?”

“I am not ready to date regardless of the man, that’s why I didn’t want to meet my internet friend in the first place. Why does it have to go anywhere because we met?”

“It doesn’t have to but it does make sense.”

“I can see your point.”

“You know I’m surprised you’re not madder at him. All that anger you had couldn’t have just disappeared,” Leandra interjected, “you are so zen right now.”

“Oddly enough all the talking we did before we knew who we were really clarified things for me. Had I known it was Chris I was talking to, things might’ve been a little different but I understand more. I’m not completely over feeling betrayed and he knows that but it’s not as bad as it was.”

“Did you sleep with him?”

“Yes and no.”

“What!”

Robyn laughed, “I told you we slept in the same bed together already but we have not had sex.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Why?”

“You and Chris, the two freaks of the century, actually slept in the same bed together and did not have sex.”

“Yes. Why is that so unbelievable?”

“Because it’s you two.”

Robyn laughed, “It’s also been seven years. You’d think I’d succumb to him that quickly?”

“Considering you haven’t had sex in seven years, hell yea.”

They all laughed as Robyn rolled her eyes, “I want to be surprised but it’s you, Lele.”

“But you also know that I’m right. You really don’t want to see how it is after all this time?”

“No, I’m not even thinking of him like that.”

Leandra sucked her teeth as she flipped her hair over shoulder, “we’ll see, Ms. Robyn.”

“There is nothing to see, Le-” Robyn stopped as her phone started ringing. She looked at the screen and saw it was Chris, “speak of the devil.”

She cleared her throat then answered the phone, “Hey Stranger.”

Chris sat up in his bed as he heard Robyn answer the phone. He knew it was getting late but was taking a chance on her not being asleep, “How you doing, Beautiful?”

“I’m great. How are you?” She replied.

“I’m good. I was taking a chance on you being awake since it’s getting late.”

“It is the weekend and I am off. Nothing to explain about.”

“Great. Do you have plans this weekend?”

“None that can’t be rearranged depending.”

“I was wondering if you were free Saturday evening for dinner.”

“I would love to go to dinner.”

“Just to clarify, this is a date, date. Not a friendship date. Not a I’m just in your neighborhood, let's hang out kind of thing.”

“Ok. You didn’t have to clarify, Christopher.”

“I just don’t want you to feel like I tricked you in any way. My intentions are honorable but I would like to take you on a real date, if that’s feasible.”

“Thank you for the clarification but my answer is still yes.”

Chris blew out a sigh of relief and Robyn laughed, “were you not breathing that whole time?”

“Are you gonna clown me if I say yes?”

“No, I’ll let you slide this time. You really don’t have to be so nervous around me, Chris. I am not being your friend under duress”

“I know, it’s just my insecurity rearing its ugly head. My apologies.”

“Do you want to talk about it? I’m not doing much right now.”

“No, I don’t want to put-”

“Christopher.”

“Yes?”

“It’s not a burden. Now take a deep breath and talk to me.”

“I’m just psyching myself out, I guess.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re still here and I wasn’t prepared for it.”

“What do you mean?”

“I thought you’d be tired of me by now.”

“Why?”

“There’s not too much interesting about me or my life.”

“I’d beg to differ but even if there wasn’t, I could still just want to be around you. Why is that so shocking to you? Are you expecting me to spontaneously become angry about our past and hate you?”

“Honestly, yes.”

“Please do not take what I’m about to do as a dismissal.”

Robyn burst out laughing and Chris groaned into the phone,” Christopher, that is the most asinine thing I have ever heard. If I was still angry, I would not still be talking to you. I don’t do petty. I don’t do revenge. I am an adult and I can adequately express my displeasure in something without writing it off completely. I am beyond the anger stage. I’m in a place of understanding while you seem to be operating from a place of guilt. Am I right?”

“You’re right.”

“So it seems that you are the problem here and not me, correct?”

“Correct.”

“So how are we gonna fix that?”

“I’m thinking I might need to see my therapist.”

“Whatever works for you.”

“So I’ll be at your place around 6: 30 pm tomorrow night, is that ok?”

“That’s perfect.”

“Enjoy the rest of your night.”

“You do the same. Is there any kind of special attire?”

“Nothing too fancy but not super casual either.”

“I’ll see what I can do. Have a good night, Christopher.”

“You too, Robyn.”

Chris hung up and tossed his phone beside him before grabbing a pillow to scream into.

“Girl, you sounded like me talking to Max,” Leandra said with a laugh.

“Chris can be his own worst enemy sometimes,” Robyn replied, “he thinks I’m being nice to him to get back at him.”

“We heard but what’s happening Saturday?”

“He wants to take me on a date.”

“Oooh, where you going?”

“He just said out to dinner, I’m not sure where.”

“What are you wearing?”

“I don’t know.”

“Good. Shopping trip tomorrow then.”

“We do not have time for your kind of shopping trips, Leandra.”

“We can abbreviate it.  Y’all are going on a real date so you need to pull out all the stops. We’ll check on Nordstrom’s for an outfit, come back here, I'll do your hair and makeup. Simple.”

“Nothing is ever simple with you.”

“You will love me for it. Trust me. And Chris will too.”

“Now I’m scared.”

They all laughed.

                                      ~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Robyn’s nervousness melted away when Chris walked into her living room with Leandra and Melissa hanging off each arm. His eyes met hers and stuck causing her to blush, “can y’all let the man go please?”

Melissa scoffed, “we haven’t seen him in seven years and y’all don’t have to leave yet, relax. I missed my little brother.”

“Psshh, I think Leandra is the only one who didn’t reach out to him this whole time.”

“Actually, I did but I got his voicemail,” Leandra interjected, “ Lucky for him because I was gonna call him all kinds of names for skipping out on us.”

Chris shook his head, “I would’ve deserved.”

“Damn right,” Melissa said, “but Lele and I have plans so we’ll be going now.”

Chris kissed both of their cheeks before they hugged Robyn and left. Chris moved to sit on the couch next to her and patted her knee, “those two are still characters.”

“They always will be.”

“Glad some things haven’t changed.”

“True. So how are you?”

“I’m good. You look amazing.”

“Thank you. Leandra forced me to buy something new. Apparently my current wardrobe isn’t date appropriate.”

Chris chuckled, “I think your current wardrobe is you and that’s perfect.”

“Thank you. You’re really sweet.”

“Ouch.”

“Why the ouch?”

“You’re really sweet is such a curve statement.”

Robyn laughed, “Omg Chris, really?”

“Yes really.”

“But what if I really do think you’re really sweet.”

“It’s been so long how could you remember.”

“We did kiss a while ago. On the corner of the mouth.”

“And?”

“That’s all I’m admitting to.”

Chris laughed as he held his hands up in playful surrender, “I’ll take that but we could remedy that.”

“After dinner.”

“After dinner then. Are you ready to go?”

“Yup. Lead the way.”

Robyn let out an audible sound of awe as they stood by the car at the entrance of Chelsea Pier, “this is gorgeous. What’s going on here tonight?”

“It’s a jazz performance. A few of the local student groups for the major universities in NY are doing a fundraiser.”

“Are some of your students performing?”

“It’s possible, I didn’t check for specific performers of each group.”

“Do you perform anywhere?”

“Not anymore. I did once or twice a few years back.”

“Is that why you gave me the name Christian?”

“Partly. I know there’s videos of my performances online which lead back to my social media which of course would’ve told you everything.”

“You know since you told me this, you totally have to show me these videos.”

“One of these days I’ll get loose enough to not be embarrassed to show you.”

Robyn chuckled, “I’m sure you did well, why be embarrassed?”

“I was fairly nervous performing so I don’t think I did too well.”

“What did everyone else say?”

“That I did well but I think I’m harsher on myself than anyone else.”

“That, I can believe.”

“So what hobbies did you pick up?”

“Other than reading more, none.”

“Really?”

“I’m not the creative type.”

“You used to say that back in the day too but you never know until you try something.”

“What do you think I should try?”

“What have you always wanted to try?”

“How about something we’d both be learning at the same time?”

“How about sculpting or something?”

“Hmm...that sounds good.”

“I guess we need to schedule another date then.”

“You would like that, wouldn’t you?”

“Of course,” Chris replied as he grabbed her hand. They had walked up to the restaurant hosting the fundraiser event. The maitre’d smiled at them as they searched for Chris’s name on the list. Upon finding it, they led them to a table by the window. They smiled their thanks as they took their seats and accepted a menu.

“This is a nice spot.” Robyn stated.

“Thanks. I wasn’t sure if you wanted to be outside. It can get a bit cool since it’s still early in the season.”

“Very thoughtful. Thank you.”

Robyn swayed gently to the current group of musicians playing a jazz-rendition of a classic R&B song by Tony Terry. Chris watched as she started to mouth the words and leaned into his palm, thoroughly enjoying her enchantment with the music. Just then he felt his phone vibrate with a text message from Jessica.

Jessica: Chris, I need to bring Anesa to you. There’s something going with Jason.

Chris: I’m at the restaurant we used to go at Chelsea Pier

Jessica: I’ll be there in ten minutes

Chris: you were already in the city?

Jessica: Yes, I had to drive down here for Jason. It was supposed to be over quick but we’re still here. I’m trying to keep this nigga out of jail

Chris: SMH, you need a new boyfriend

Jessica: I’m figuring that out

Chris: LOL

Chris gingerly touched Robyn’s hand, bringing her attention back to him, “we have a dilemma.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Jessica needs to bring Anesa to me. She has an emergency.”

“Oh, is she ok?”

“It’s her boyfriend. Long story.”

“If you need to cut the date short, I’ll understand.”

“No, I would like to continue this but we might have to switch plans because of Anesa.”

“That’s fine.”

“You sure? I know this was supposed to this big date and I’m gonna have to-”

“Chris, it’s not like we’re not gonna see each other. I am not worried about the change of plans. I’m having a really good time.”

“I can tell. You’ve barely said anything to me since we’ve sat down.”

Robyn shrugged, “music centers me a bit.”

“Oh I’m not complaining. Watching you has been a highlight. How was your dinner?”

“It was amazing. I never considered blackened catfish but I love it. I’m used to grilled or steamed.”

“I’ll have to make a southern dinner from scratch one of these days.”

“I would like that.”

“Good.”

“Is Jessica far away?”

“She said 10 minutes but I’m guessing it’ll be more like 20 if she’s where I think she’s coming from.”

“We could walk for a little bit before we meet her outside.”

“You don’t want anything else to eat or drink?”

“Nope, I think I’m good.”

Chris gestured for the waitress and paid for their food before leading Robyn out to the front.

Robyn tucked her hand in his, “so which way do we go?”

“Hmm...to the right, I believe there is a small park. To the left, would be towards the parking lot.”

“Then to the right it is.”

Robyn leaned in his arm as they started walking, “what led you to fostering?”

“Besides me wanting a child?”

“Besides that.”

“I just thought I was in the right place and I had a capacity for love that I wasn’t utilizing. I’ve always loved children and had a good rapport with them, I figured what better way to use it than to give it to a child that needs it. I had already decided against getting into another relationship.”

“That really surprises me.”

“Why?”

“I mean you’ve clearly healed and done well for yourself. Why stay single?”

“I had my dream girl and I blew it. There wasn’t anyone else out there I really wanted to be involved with.”

“I guess.”

“I could ask you the same question.”

“I was still trying to make sense of the divorce. Adding a new person to my life just didn’t sound like a good idea.”

“But you still could’ve been in a relationship amid all of that.”

“At the risk of inflating your ego, there wasn’t anyone else I wanted to be with.”

“That actually makes me feel more guilty than hype.”

“Why? Because you wanted me to date someone else.”

“Actually yes.”

“Are you really that worried that you ruined me?”

“Very. Not saying relationships are the only way to be happy but I know how much you enjoyed it. You’re very independent but you’re also affectionate and loving, you deserve to share that with someone who’ll give it back to you.”

“I can’t give it to myself?”

“Of course you can but you know what I mean.”

“I do. I’m just picking with you.”

Chris chuckled then kissed her temple, “wanna make a u-turn? Jess should be here by now.”

“Sure. That was a quick 10 minutes.”

“Time flies when you’re having fun.”

“True. So what are we going to do once we get Anesa?”

“I will leave that up to you and her. I want it to be something fun for both of you.”

“I'm good for a movie and relaxing on the couch.”

“I’m trying to do something extraordinary and you are shooting me down at every turn.”

“Who says that extraordinary requires an exuberant amount of energy or money? In my old age, just spending time with a person is extraordinary to me.”

“Well when you put it that way, I feel special.”

“You should. Most people don’t get past one phone call with me.”

“Really?”

“Yes really. The fact you got past the first chat with me is a miracle.”

“I guess that prayer I sent up before we left your house was answered.”

Robyn laughed, “you’re still just as dramatic as you ever were.”

“I’ve tried to mellow it out a bit.”

“Just a bit is right”

“Right in the heart.”

“I never miss, Christopher, if you haven’t figured that out.”

“It has been duly noted.”

They laughed as they made their way back towards the restaurant.