#i also almost captioned this ''give a little whistle''. good god

[tomwaterbabies]

takin a little stroll

[jamespotterthefirst]

Lovely (Ethan x F!MC)

Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr. Lilac Allende) Word count: 2,100+ Warning: Adult language Premise: Adding her on social media was a dangerous mistake. Particularly when she posts a picture looking like that. Tags: @openheart12​ | @ethandaddyramsey​ | @noboundariesplease​ | @silverlitskies​ | 

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“Post, post, post!” her roommates chanted with alcohol fueled enthusiasm. 

Lilac, the least drunk of the group, though not by a lot, peered at her friends quizzically. They were sprawled on different parts of their living room, gazing at her with glazed eyes and sloppy smiles. In her own drunken state, she wondered how the night turned from board games and drinks to Lilac spilling her guts about Ethan following her on social media. Of course, she had left out his name and so her roommates only surmised it was some new flame she was interested in. 

God, she wanted him with such desperation that it physically hurt sometimes. If she hadn't had several drinks, she'd feel miserable and somewhat pathetic.

“You guys don't even know who this guy is,” Lilac returned and she realized immediately that was not entirely true. As the words left her mouth, Sienna and Elijah shared a massive, knowing grin. Lilac's face flushed at the memory of running into them while trying to sneak Ethan out all those months ago. 

Luckily, Aurora and Jackie were too drunk to notice the exchange. 

“It's that Lahela guy, isn't it?” Aurora offered. 

“Not likely,” returned Jackie at once. “Lilac said this guy was good-looking and smart.” She instantly wrinkled her nose, looking far more dejected than was warranted. “It's a lot more fun when he's here to hear me insult him.”

“That one was weak,” Elijah commented with a laugh, elongating the last word. “If he was here, he would've destroyed you with a comeback.”

Before Jackie could reply, Sienna leaped up from her place on the rug and plopped down next to Lilac on the couch. “I know what picture you should post,” she exclaimed excitedly, brandishing her phone in front of Lilac's face. A blur of green was all she could see as Sienna waved the phone. “Remember that green dress you bought for your cousin's wedding before they called it off?”

“Let's talk about that for a second,” Aurora said with renewed interest. 

Sienna didn't seem to hear this because she went on, “The one with the neckline and the slit?” 

Lilac remembered. She also remembered the picture she had sent Sienna to show it off. Lilac standing in front of a body-length mirror clad in the forest green number, phone strategically positioned to cover her face so the emphasis would be on the plunging neckline and on the shapely leg escaping from the slit. 

“That dress could kill a man,” Sienna said approvingly as they both inspected the picture on her screen. “It's equal parts classy and also—” 

“Slutty?” Lilac offered. It was how she described her style on most days and she was far from ashamed of it. 

“If he wasn't in such great shape, you'd give the poor man a heart attack. I'm sure Eth—” she started but abruptly stopped when she remembered the others. One nervous glance around told Lilac they were not listening anyway. They were busy filling Aurora in on the drama of the canceled wedding. Sienna lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper, “I'm sure your mystery guy will love it. He was all over you when you wore that navy blue dress in Miami.” 

Perhaps it was the memory of that night and his kisses on the balcony, or the alcohol coursing through her, or maybe the way her heart pined for him every time their eyes met, wishing desperately they could do more, that made Lilac say, “Fine, I'll post a—”

“Thirst trap,” Elijah chimed in with a cheer. 

They all laughed out loud, even Lilac. Another indicative that they should really stop drinking for the night. The semi rational part of her brain reminded her that she should've stopped drinking when posting a provocative picture with the most basic pose imaginable in hopes of entrapping a man that might not even be watching seemed like a good idea. 

With a burst of courage and recklessness, Lilac found the picture, wrote a ridiculous caption that would make her hungover self tomorrow morning cringe, and pressed "post" before they could spend another twenty minutes discussing her predicament and before the chanting resumed.

_________________________________________________

The account was supposed to be strictly for a one-time use. Ethan had planned to delete the damned thing as soon as Gwyneth's case had been solved and treated. Wasn't that part of the reason why he had allowed Lilac to use that ridiculous picture of him at the beach? It was meant to be a gag, something that would never see the light of day. 

Yet, he had found himself gravitating towards the tab left open on his laptop every time he used it. His subconscious had equated the inane website with learning more about Lilac. And despite his many attempts to convince himself that he shouldn’t care, he did. She was the only person he had ever wanted to learn more about, with such a desperate conviction that would be alarming to her if he ever confessed. 

He cared so deeply that the word “care” did not properly describe the unbridled longing in his chest. One did not flee to the Amazon for two months to escape “care.”  

Ethan pushed that dangerous thought away. 

“Thirty minutes, Ethan,” Reggie said from the doorway to the bar. It was his usual way to inform him how long it’d take him to clean-up and thus the amount of time Ethan had left to enjoy his drink in blissful solitude. 

He was alone, typically how he enjoyed drinking, yet he found no peace. Memories of the last time he was at that very beer garden with her accosted his thoughts. The way her bright green eyes looked startling in the golden lights floating all around and the feel of her soft lips on his. 

Before he could stop himself, he pulled out his phone and opened the app. His weakness was such that he had figured out how to download the damn app on his phone. It was almost comical that now he could look at her whenever and however long he wanted on a screen, as if she wasn't inhabiting his mind at every hour. 

Ethan was determined to find his favorite post, a picture of her at that very bar, taken a few months ago by her friend, Dr. Trinh. Before he could, however, his eye caught a notification from the app itself.

“Pictagram: dr.allende just shared a new post.” 

It was time stamped one hour ago. Ethan briefly commended himself on going a whole hour without staring at her face like the pitiful stalker he was becoming. Before he could feel ashamed and pathetic, he opened her new post and almost choked on his drink.

“Fuck,” he murmured into the quiet night, setting his glass down on a side table nearby. Without realizing it, he sat much straighter on the outdoor sofa. 

His eyes desperately roamed every inch of the image, unsure where to settle. There was the expanse of her exposed leg, or the dangerously plunging neckline of her dress, the casual sway of her hip. His hands had clutched on to those hips, fingers digging slightly into her skin as they both lost themselves to unmitigated pleasure.

It was downright criminal how good she looked in the picture, exposing enough to drive a man insane but not enough to be crass. Apparently, he was not the only one to think so. In the mere hour the picture had been up, it had already accrued 220 of those "likes" Lilac had explained. 

Ethan continued to stare at the picture like a starved man. It took everything in his power not to call her and somehow convince her to take him back, his morals and conviction be damned. That was the power Dr. Lilac Allende and her green dress wielded over him. 

The distant clanging of bottles startled him out his thoughts so abruptly that Ethan almost dropped his phone. He caught it quite unceremoniously and as he turned the screen back to him, he noticed a red heart animation appearing and disappearing in the middle of her picture. 

"Shit," he muttered when he realized he, too, like the 220 others had "liked" the picture. Upon further inspection, he realized he had even accidentally commented the single letter "I". 

A bit frantic, he tapped at his phone to figure out a way to get rid of the damn thing. He could not bear Lilac learning he leered at her picture at 1 AM and was so affected he could barely type a coherent sentence. Even if that was a hundred percent true. Ethan was getting nowhere, except to an early grave, when a text message notification came in. 

“Like what you see?”

It was Lilac.

 Goddammit, she had seen. 

Ethan considered not replying. Yet, even as he entertained the thought, he knew he couldn't resist. 

“Along with 220 others,” he replied before he could stop himself. He realized belatedly that the real count was 220 others plus Bryce Lahela (scalpellahela). 

“Those 220 others can look all they want but they can't touch,” was her immediate response. 

His breath caught a little. The power she had over him was astounding. 

“But you can,” she added when he did not respond. 

God almighty. She was determined to kill him. 

A few minutes ticked by and his phone buzzed with an incoming call. When he started the call, he was greeted by what sounded like distant wolf whistles, followed by the sound of a door closing. 

“You okay over there?” she asked by form of greeting. Her voice was teasing in a way that was absolutely maddening. 

“Fine,” Ethan replied in what he hoped was a convincing, leveled voice. 

“Where are you anyway?” She spoke in a sultry sort of drawl that did nothing to placate his traitorous body's reaction to her photo. 

“Donahue's. Finishing up my drink,” he replied, eyeing his forgotten scotch on the table where he had set it. “Anyway, sorry if I awoke you. I accidentally liked and commented.”

“Accidentally,” she repeated in a tone that suggested she did not believe him. “So you don't like my dress and you're not at a loss for words?” 

“I never said that,” he returned at once. “You look…”

What was a professional way of saying “fucking irresistible” or “like I want to peel that dress off with my teeth”? 

“Good,” he said lamely, though his strangled voice suggested far more. She picked up on that, of course. 

“And what are you going to do about that?” she asked in a deliberately innocent whisper. 

“Lilac,” he warned, as he always did when their conversation veered towards volatile territory. 

“There's nothing wrong with just telling me, Ethan,” she offered and he could have sworn she sounded almost pleading.  

He did not argue, as he usually did. Mostly because another intellectual argument with her, in addition to the photo and the way she all but purred in his ear,  would allow his desire for her to win. He'd be on his way to her bed in moments. 

“Tell me,” she prompted again. 

With a sigh, he gave in. 

“That dress is...”

“Yes?” 

“Sinful.”

There was a small pause at the other end of the line. 

“Should I wear it out?”

“Absolutely,” he returned, completely enraptured by the direction this was all heading. He could feel his inhibitions vanish.

“Where to?” 

“My bed.”

She did not miss a beat. 

“Ideally, I'd be out of the dress for that, then,” she returned in that sexy drawl of hers. Ethan was astounded he was not in the car, speeding to her apartment at that very moment. 

“Fuck, Lilac,” he murmured. 

“So you can do that, yes,” she responded in a whisper so low that he almost didn’t catch it.

He said nothing, fearing he would sound like an incomprehensible imbecile if he did. 

A long silence, and then, “Ethan?”

“Yes?”

He heard her suck in a breath, almost as if mustering up courage. “I miss you.” 

There was an unbearable tugging at his chest. He never had her courage, but now that she had laid it out for him, he couldn’t resist admitting the same. “You know I do too.” 

Another small silence. 

“Come over,” she said at last and he could hear the tones of humor in her voice. Almost as if she knew what he was going to say. Perhaps she did know. The brief illusion in which they saw each other as lovers and not colleagues, had inevitably come to an end. As it always did. 

He laughed good-naturedly. “Go to sleep.”

“With you?”

Despite himself, he grinned. He knew at the other end, she would be too. 

“Good night, Lilac.” 

“Good night, Ethan.”

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Click Here for Part 2

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A/N: Ah, these two will have to sleep together sooner than later. 

THANK YOU so much if you read this silly, pointless thing! 

Masterlist

P.S. I made that Instagram post Ethan loves of MC at Donahue’s but didn’t put it in the story. LOL, I love the idea of him stalking her posts. That man is so in love.

Anyway, here it is, just for fun: 

[somekindoftuber]

vld youtuber AU (klance, part 5)

(I apologize if the tense changes all over the place, I’m writing this as a sort of stream-of-consciousness thing because I care more about getting the idea out than writing something that’s grammatically perfect. I’ll probably clean this up and make it an actual fic once it’s all done. Thanks for reading!! :D)

part one | part two | part three | part four

There is a definite shift in Keith’s demeanor after Lance’s last visit.

They play Overwatch a few times a week, and while Keith goes into stern-leader-battle-mode when the game is going, between matches he’s loose, candid. He laughs at Lance’s jokes and makes casual conversation about his job, the garage, tells funny stories about Kosmo. Lance tells Keith stories about the customers he has at the cafe. It’s nice to hear a softness in Keith’s voice that Lance hadn’t heard before.

Keith shows up in nearly all of Lance’s Overwatch videos, even if his mic isn’t recorded. They sort of fall into a rhythm, meeting online every Tuesday and Thursday night to search for servers.

“Y’know,” Keith says one night while they’re in queue. “I wouldn’t have figured you for a sniper type.”

“Eh?” Lance is in his Widowmaker menu at that moment, flipping between two skins to see which one he likes more. “What d’you mean?”

“I don’t mean it in a bad way,” Keith clarifies, and it sounds like he’s smiling. “You just seem like more of a Mercy or a support or something. You’re really…” he pauses. “Generous. Always helping people. Then you get in here and you turn into a cold blooded assassin.”

Lance laughs. “I’ve always played a sniper, though. Gotta have balance somewhere, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

.

They text a lot. It’s all small stuff, like pet photos or memes (which Keith doesn’t understand 90% of the time and Lance finds that kind of adorable). But it’s nice. Occasionally they’ll both have an early shift, and Lance will text Keith photos of the ancient espresso grinder, captioned “this thing wants me dead” surrounded with skull emojis. Keith’s sense of humor, Lance learns, is dry as cracker juice. He gets a photo of a broken rubber floor mat with the question, “what sound does a floor mat make when it splits right before a fitness class?” Before Lance can answer, he gets another photo of the same mat, this time with Keith’s middle finger pointing soundly at it. “That sound,” says the caption. Lance laughs so hard that his boss yells at him for being on his phone during a shift.

August comes to an end, and Pidge prepares for her final term. Lance helps by assisting in an apartment clean out, getting rid of literal clutter to ease Pidge’s impending mental clutter. Lance tries not to think about how this might be their last few months in this apartment together. He’s really enjoyed living with Pidge - he wasn’t exaggerating when he said she was like a sister. Pidge is an extension of his family, ever since they met at space camp all those years ago. She’d been a tiny, fluffy, indomitable ball of pure snark and Lance loved her immediately. Since then, they’d stuck together, seeing each other through some of the hardest times. Lance had cheered his lungs out when Pidge was handed her high school diploma, and in a few months, he’d see her walk across another stage in a cap and gown to receive her bachelor’s degree in Robotic Engineering.

It made him a little misty-eyed to think about it.

Pidge is playing Stardew Valley one afternoon (how the hell did she manage to make such an insanely profitable farm before the end of year one?) when she casually brings up one of Lance’s favorite fall events.

“You gonna go to the Founder’s Fair this year?”

Lance doesn’t even look up from his phone. “Uh, is the Pope catholic?”

“Good.” On the screen, Pidge’s character gives a bouquet to Penny. Dating everyone but marrying no one: the Pidge method. “Hunk is coming in for it.”

“Sweet.”

The Harborville Founder’s Fair was the highlight of every autumn. Right as the summer was fading away and the air was showing a hint of a chill, Oceanside Park would explode into three days of carnival rides, food trucks, fireworks, and everything in between. It was also the best time of year to surf - they didn’t get much in the way of waves here, but there would always be just enough in late September to rent a board. Lance had put in his time off request a month ago, buttering up his boss with the ‘this might be my last September in Harborville’ sob story. Which was sort of true, even if he wasn’t quite ready to face that reality yet.

Lance felt like he was getting closer to Keith. He wasn’t entirely sure if that was the case, but if nothing else, Keith seemed to finally be relaxing around him. There were one or two times when Lance could almost swear Keith was flirting, but he quickly shoved the thought aside. Nope, don’t go there. That’s assuming things. Assuming is dangerous.

.

The fair is in a week and to make up for missing work on what will be one of the busiest weekends of the year, Lance is working at the cafe nearly every day. He has more steam burns on his hands and wrists from making lattes than ever, and he thinks if he hears the word “pumpkin spice” one more time he might lose it. He hasn’t played Overwatch all week, too tired from extra shifts to do anything other than zone out to Netflix when he gets home.

He’s got two hours left in his Thursday morning shift, then he’s free for the whole weekend. He can practically taste the funnel cakes now - and the Rancho Alegre food truck, the only decent source of Cuban food in the entire state, will be there. God, he’s going to eat until he can’t move.

The morning rush has come and gone and the afternoon crowd isn’t here yet, so Lance is cleaning up the mess of coffee grounds and cinnamon around his work station when the bell on the cafe door sounds. He doesn’t look up as his coworker/supervisor Romelle greets whoever walks through, too preoccupied with wondering how the hell almond milk ended up underneath the grinder.

“Hello,” says the customer and Lance totally knows that voice. He stops wiping sour milk and looks up.

It’s Shiro. And right behind him is Allura and - oh shit. It’s Keith. He’s here, he’s here in the cafe and Lance had no idea he was coming and he probably looks like shit, overworked with bags under his eyes and his face breaking out from stress and he didn’t even shampoo his hair this morning because he was running late --

But then Keith smiles at him and wow. His hair is down and he’s wearing this black and red leather jacket and it should be illegal to look that good. Especially when Lance is such a mess.

“Hi,” Lance says, hating how his voice cracks. “What are you guys doing in town?”

Shiro is pulling out his wallet with his left hand. “We came for the fair. It was always one of my favorite things about going to school here.”

“Oh,” Lance squeaks.

They’re here for the fair. Lance might get to spend time at the fair with Keith. He forces himself to focus on the present before a dozen fantasies of ferris wheel rides and sharing cotton candy can take over his brain.

They all order drinks and Lance claims them before Romelle can even finish ringing them up. Shiro gets a hazelnut americano, Allura orders a tuxedo mocha, and Keith shyly asks for a latte. Lance can tell he doesn’t go to coffee shops often and makes the drinks carefully. He can’t embellish Shiro’s americano, but he uses chocolate sauce and extra foam to draw a bow tie in Allura’s mug. For Keith’s latte, he sends a prayer to the coffee gods to grant him latte art prowess. It works, and Lance is rounding out rings of coffee and foam, pulling through to form a perfect heart.

He slides the mug across the counter to Keith, who’s eyebrow shoot into his hair. He breaths a little “wow” and blushes, taking the mug and smiling. He’s wearing fingerless leather gloves. Lance’s heart flip-flops in his chest.

The three of them find a table near the window and sit, chatting and drinking their coffee. They’re too far away for Lance to hear what they’re saying, and even if he could, he’s on the clock, and the lunchtime regulars are starting to trickle in.

Would it be gauche to text his evening shift coworker and bribe him to come in early so Lance can leave?

Lance thinks Romelle can tell he’s pouting by the way she sides up to him.

“Hey,” she whispers. “Is that the guy?”

He follows her gaze and sees that it lands firmly on the table where Keith is sitting with Shiro and Allura. Keith looks up at Lance, and smiles a little before turning back to his brother.

“Yeah,” Lance whispers back, feeling his face heat up. “The one with the long hair.”

Romelle lets out a low whistle. “Quite the catch,” she says, waggling her eyebrows. “What about the girl they’re with?”

“Allura?” Lance thinks. “I don’t know her very well, but she’s nice.”

“She single?”

Lance rolls his eyes and starts on the next drink. “No idea, you should ask her.”

It’s slower today and Lance is thankful for it. With Keith in the room, he can’t focus on anything - it’s a miracle he doesn’t catastrophically screw up the drinks he’s making. There’s a break in customers and Romelle comes over to Lance where he loading a portafilter with espresso and waves her phone.

“I’ll make you a deal,” she says, and he does not like that voice. That’s her Supervisor Voice. “I’ll call Ryan in an hour early if you get me Cute Girl’s number.”

Lance puts the tamp down. “Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

He looks over at the table where Keith is sitting. They’ve all finished their drinks and will probably be leaving soon.

“Romelle,” Lance states. “You are an evil super villain and I love you. Consider that number yours.”

Fifteen minutes later, Ryan Kinkade is walking in and he doesn’t look particularly thrilled about it. Lance takes off his apron and motions at the jar of cash by the register.

“Ryan, you’re a lifesaver and my tips are yours. Thank you!” Lance clocks out before anyone can argue and walks over to where Keith and Co are sitting. He’s very much aware of how he probably reeks of coffee and looks like garbage but does his best to smile anyway.

“My shift is over, did you guys have any plans?”

Shiro smiles and stands. “I think we were going to head to our Air B&B and check in, actually. We could use a breather after that drive. We can meet up for dinner later, if you want.”

Inwardly, Lance lets out a sigh of relief because this means he’ll have time to take a shower and make himself presentable. “That sounds good! Any place you want to go?”

Shiro shrugs. “Is Vinnie’s still open?”

Lance lights up. “Oh yeah, still as good as ever, too! Want to meet there at, uh - “ He checks his phone, it’s barely 3pm. “Around five? We should beat most of the dinner rush that way.”

They all nod and the plans are made. They walk outside together and Lance watches the three of them get into a very nice Chrysler sedan - maybe Allura’s, given how she goes for the driver’s seat. Once they’re gone, Lance heads for his car and books it home. He immediately washes and exfoliates his face, then applies an anti-inflammatory mask and works at cleaning up the apartment. It was already fairly clean since Hunk will be crashing on the pull-out sofa bed for the weekend, and he has no idea of Keith will ever even see this place, but Lance doesn’t want to take any risks.

He shoots Pidge a text to tell her about their plans in case she wants to join. Hunk isn’t due until tomorrow morning.

Apartment clean(er) and his face mask dry and itchy, Lance hops in the shower and scrubs himself sore. Keith is here and will be spending the weekend here and Lance is equal parts ecstatic and terrified. He meticulously goes through his whole grooming routine, moisturizes, swabs, trims his eyebrows, even files his nails. He checks his reflection once he’s done and thankfully his face is less red, the stress acne barely noticeable.

There’s still about 45 minutes until he needs to be at Vinnie’s so Lance takes his time picking out clothes. He settles for a low cut tank top that shows off his collarbones and a beige button down over it with the sleeves rolled up, finishing it off with a pendant necklace and grey skinny jeans. He examines himself in the mirror and frowns a little. Does it look too much like date clothes?

He doesn’t have time to change because then his phone pings and it’s Shiro, saying they’re heading to Vinnie’s a little early. Lance all but throws himself out the door.

.

Vinnie’s is starting to get crowded, Lance can already see the line forming when he parks. He spots Shiro and Allura easily, their white hair making them stand out. They’d managed to claim a patio table - no small feat - and were chatting happily.

Lance joins them and it’s amazing how welcome he feels in this group, the way Shiro half-pulls a chair out for Lance. Keith is sitting to his right, his jacket draped over the back of his chair, the black t-shirt he wore stretching nicely over his chest. And if he didn’t know any better, Lance could swear he saw Keith’s eyes sweep down his neck and linger.

They ate and laughed and ate more, drinking fancy gourmet sodas. They make loose plans for the weekend - beach tomorrow, then the fair on Saturday, and maybe brunch before they leave on Sunday. Lance educates Keith in the ways of the garlic knot, the most sacred food item on earth. And when Keith shrugs and says they’re “alright,” Lance feigns offense, gasping and clutching his chest.

Pidge joins them later, looking utterly spent from a long day of classes. Lance gives up his seat so she can collapse into it. He kneels beside the table instead, passing Pidge the last of their pizza and appetizers. Keith gives him a look, then scoots over to one side of his chair, patting the other with his hand.

Lance short circuits, looking from the empty side of the chair to Keith’s face several times.

Keith rolls his eyes. “Get up here. That,” he points to where Lance is kneeling, “Is super bad for your knees.”

“Oh?” Lance slides into place, and it’s sort of uncomfortable with half of his ass hanging off the chair, but he can feel heat pouring off Keith’s body with how close he is. “You care much about my knees?”

Keith goes super red. “I’m a physical trainer,” He said, suddenly very interested in his soda. “It’s my job to care. Doing stuff like that will ruin them.”

“Right.”

Lance glances over at Pidge, who had a garlic knot halfway to her mouth and giving Lance the most predatory grin. He glares at her to shut down whatever evil plans she might be formulating.

They finally finish the food and decide to stop taking up a table, bussing it themselves to save the staff some work. Instead of a bar, they decide to head over to Lance and Pidge’s apartment to chill - half because Pidge isn’t 21 yet and wouldn’t be able to join them at most of the bars in town, and half because Vinnie’s was so loud that they’re all craving some quiet.

Lance is so thankful that his past self had the sense to clean a little more. They all sprawl out over the living room, Lance going to pull a chair from the kitchen to sit on so the guests can have the nice couch and Pidge can curl up in the easy chair. Lance offers up the ice cream sandwiches from the freezer and everyone takes one; Allura seems to be examining hers with great interest, like she’s never had one before.

Shiro talks a lot, mostly about what Harborville was like when he and Matt were in college. About their first apartment that should probably have been condemned, the dogs he’d walk between classes for extra cash. Eventually Lance’s cats come out of hiding to investigate, and Keith goes starry-eyed at Batou’s big green eyes and plush grey coat.

Pidge falls asleep in her chair just after nine. Everyone takes a second to coo at how cute she is before Lance bends down to scoop her up.

“Lemme put sleeping beauty here to bed. If she stays there she’ll be sore and cranky when she wakes up.”

He takes Pidge to her room and sets her on her bed, then wrestles her sneakers off her feet, setting her glasses on the bedside table and draping a sheet over her. When he goes back into the living room and sits in the chair he’d removed Pidge from, Allura gives him a fond look.

“You’re very sweet to her.”

Lance shrugs. “She’s pretty much family. Also, I have to do that all the time. I’ve found her face down on her homework out here more times than I want to count.”

They talk for another two hours. Lance feels a little lonely with Keith sitting on the side of the couch furthest from him, but then again, if he was closer, Lance isn’t sure his brain would work. Allura yawns wide.

“I think it’s time we turned in,” she states. “I’d like to get some rest before the weekend starts.”

Shiro agrees. Lance ends up seeing them off in the parking lot, waving as they drive away.

.

Hunk arrives just after 10am the next morning, armed with bags of groceries to pack a picnic for the beach. He puts Lance and Pidge on an assembly line in the kitchen, making pork sandwiches, vegetable rolls, hummus wraps, crab and radish tartines, potato salad, and chocolate-dipped clementine slices. He’d picked up a package of Lance’s favorite lemon cream cookies and Lance could almost kiss him for it.

With their precious picnic food carefully packed in an ice chest along with plenty of drinks, Lance shot a group text to Keith, Shiro, and Allura to ask if they were ready for the beach. He got confirmation quickly, and they agreed to hit the north shore near the lighthouse, where the sand was rougher but the tourists tended to be a little thinner.

Parking is a bitch but they find a spot, then wait by the trunk for Keith and Co to arrive. About ten minutes later Lance sees Allura’s Chrysler pull in to a spot. They walk over to meet them and Lance is practically bouncing, because 1) he gets to go to the beach, 2) he gets to go surfing with Hunk, 3) he gets to spend time with new friends, and 4) Keith is here. Everyone is in shorts and light shirts, Allura has this big floppy sun hat that is absolutely precious on her, and Keith’s face is shiny with sunscreen. Lance bets that fair skin of his will still be red by the end of the day.

They find a spot that’s decently clear and set up. Hunk, Keith, and Lance tackle the portable canopy that will hopefully keep them all from becoming completely sunburned while Allura and Pidge set out the sand blanket and arrange their stuff to keep the wind from blowing it away. Once they’re settled, the ice chest is opened and sodas and juice are passed around. The wind is strong today but not enough to be a problem for their canopy, and the waves are large and plentiful. Lance eyes the surfboard rental shack a quarter mile down the beach.

Once they’ve had enough of snacking and chatting, Lance gives Hunk fingerguns and they almost take off down the beach together, making a beeline for the surfboards. Rolo is working it as usual and after some searching they find the perfect boards and duck into the changing tent to get into their springsuits. Lance has the white and blue suit up over his hips and was about to pull it the rest of the way on when he remembers that Keith is sitting out there. Ever since Lance learned he was a Crossfit trainer, he’d started running and working out again. He wasn’t in as good a shape as he was when he’d been swimming competitively, but thanks to months of regular exercise, he at least sort of looked the part again. And maybe he wanted to show off a little. So Lance left the top of his springsuit open and hanging from his hips as they went back to the group with their boards.

“Showoff,” Hunk accused while they were still out of earshot of everyone else.

Lance subtly flexed his chest. “So? I worked hard for this.”

When they got back to the canopy, Lance did his best to act nonchalant as he set his board aside and started pulling his springsuit up over his chest. Keith was definitely looking at him. Mission accomplished.

His flirty nature satisfied, it was time to surf. Lance missed this so much, the first step into the ocean water was like heaven. He and Hunk paddled out until the water was smooth, then sat on their boards and waited. They didn’t have to wait long, Hunk caught the first good wave that came their way, riding it out and away. Lance caught the next one, and it was a crazy high. It just felt so good, cutting through the water with his board, turning, riding through tunnels of blue-green. The waves tossed him, wrecked him, dragged his body against the sand below. But every time, Lance would surface, shake it off, and paddle out for another go.

His legs finally started to shake, so Lance hauled his board back to the shore. Hunk was already sitting under the canopy again, changed out of his springsuit and sipping on a juice box.

“I was gonna give you ten more minutes before I dragged you out of the water,” Hunk said.

Lance didn’t reply, chest heaving as he caught his breath. His board hits the sand and he all but collapses onto the sand sheet, his ears ringing.

A water bottle appeared in his periphery. Lance looked up enough to trace the hand that held it back to Keith, who was wearing this cute little smile. Lance smiled back and took the bottle, downing half of it in one gulp.

Pidge starts pulling out food and Lance blindly eats whatever is handed to him, too exhausted to care what it is. It’s all delicious but with how many calories he burned surfing, he could probably be eating stale saltines and they’d taste like a delicacy. He leans back on the sand sheet and basks in the post-surf euphoria.

Lance notices everyone starting to get up. Allura is holding several frisbees with a gleam in her eye, and most of the group is rising to join her. Keith stands and, after fiddling with the collar of his shirt for a second, reaches back and pulls it over his head, letting it drop to the ground.

Lance is instantly awake because holy shit. Keith is ripped. He’s all tight skin and perfect muscles and - oh.

He’d been wrong when he’d assumed Keith’s tattoo was a wolf. It’s actually a lion, roaring fiercely, emblazoned in dark red ink over his left hip.

Keith takes a hair tie off his wrist and uses it to pull his hair up high on the back of his head. He shoots Lance a loaded glance before walking out into the sun to join everyone else for a game of frisbee tag. Lance memorizes the muscles of his back as he goes.

“Good god, you’re so loud.”

Lance sits up and turns to see Pidge, sitting in the center of the sand sheet in her shorts and green rash guard, with her phone in one hand and a cookie in the other.

“I didn’t say anything!” Lance protests. Pidge just cocks an eyebrow at him.

“Not with words, anyway.”

Lance frowns, then dares to look back out at his friends, finding Keith and tracking his movements across the beach.

.

They empty the ice chest of food and drink and, after several more hours of beach fun, they decide to pack it in and head out. Lance is going to remember this day for the rest of his life - the image of Keith glistening wet as he walked out of the ocean had finally taught Lance the meaning of the phrase “looks good enough to eat.”

Lance is so, so tired. Surfing wore him out but he still played a round of beach volleyball after that, and then swam some more. He’s going to be so sore tomorrow. He drives himself, Hunk, and Pidge back to their apartments to shower and change before they head over to the Air B&B where Shiro, Keith, and Allura are staying. Lance decides on a regular shirt and his favorite jeans, only bothering to put a single layer of moisturizer on his face.

The Air B&B turns out to be a whole house, with a yard and a little deck where they all gather around faded patio furniture as Shiro hands out beers. He gives Pidge a look as she takes one for herself.

“What?” She says as she twists off the top of the bottle. “I’m gonna be 21 in a few months, I’m in safe company, and I’m not driving.”

Shiro just sighs and sits down.

They talk and laugh for hours. Pidge only has one beer before switching to sweet tea, and Lance is a little relieved. He has no idea what drunk Pidge would be like and he’d rather not find out this weekend - he would be cash money that she’d be ornery as hell. Hunk orders some delivery from their favorite noodle place when Lance isn’t paying attention. Keith looks happy as a kid on Christmas with a giant bowl of pho in front of him, and Lance learns that Vietnamese food is his favorite.

They move inside once the sun goes down to keep from bothering the neighbors. Lance settles into a corner of the faded couch, and is too tired to panic when Keith sits next to him. Hunk launches into a story about his last term at school when he almost blew the breaker for the entire engineering building and Lance tries to pay attention, but he’s worn out and Keith is radiating heat like a furnace. Combine that with his full stomach and a couple of beers and he’s so, so sleepy.

Someone is calling his name and Lance inhales sharply, eyes fluttering open. It was Hunk, who’s smiling at him from across the coffee table. Lance is leaning on something warm and solid. He rubs his eyes and looks up.

He was leaning on Keith.

Lance’s eyes bug out but Keith just looks down at him with this tiny smile and a blush on his cheeks. Lance suddenly feels like the room is a million degrees as he carefully sits up.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to pass out.”

Keith laughs softly. “It’s fine.”

They all start to wrap up their stories and conversations. Lance doesn’t know what time it is but it feels late, and since they want to hit the fair tomorrow, they should all get some sleep. Hunk offers to drive home and Lance hands him the keys as Keith, Shiro, and Allura wave goodbye from the front porch.

He almost falls asleep again in the ten minutes it takes Hunk to drive them back to their apartment. Lance helps set up the pull-out sofa, then goes to brush his teeth. He’s practically nodding off at the bathroom sink when Pidge comes up to him and pulls out her phone.

“Thought you should see this,” she says, holding it up.

On the screen is a photo of Keith, and, with his head resting on Keith’s shoulder dead asleep, Lance. Keith is looking down at him and definitely blushing.

The toothbrush stills in Lance’s mouth as he swipes the phone from Pidge’s hand, using his thumbs to pull and zoom. Keith was smiling.

“Please send this to me immediately,” Lance tells her, words muffled from the toothbrush still hanging from between his teeth.

He’s in bed setting his alarm when he gets the text from Pidge with the photo attached. And if Lance hugs a pillow and kicks his feet a little at the sight, who could blame him?

.

Continued in part 6!

[vitanes]

say it’s okay when it’s not

chapter 1: replacement

One unfortunate event results in Lucas ending up sick for a week. Once he’s back to school, there’s a new addition to his friend group and he isn’t very happy about it.

(a/n: remember those promo pics that made some of us believe eliott would join the boys n we would have an enemies-to-friends-to-lovers? well.)

Lucas isn’t drunk. He is high and drunk. Because there’s nothing better than getting wasted in order to ignore important matters. Mom in the psychiatric clinic? Dad being a dick? Not having money to pay the rent? Who cares.

And before anyone says that it’s a wrong way of coping, Lucas is aware. It’s not like he’s doing it on purpose. It’s just that when an occasion comes, he isn’t going to say no, right? He’s at a party, with his friends. He’s having fun.

The guys are talking about girls, because of course they are. Lucas isn’t paying much attention to their words, only nodding when someone addresses him. Mostly, he’s occupied with his beer.

His eyes keep straying over to a guy who’s standing in the corner of the room, chatting with someone, but glancing time and time again towards him.

It’s not often that Lucas has a chance to flirt with boys. Or, actually, be even near the boys that could be possibly interested in him. He’s nowhere close to being open about his sexuality. Unlike this dude, as it seems. And Lucas is intrigued.

He might have made out with like two boys in the past, but he was so piss-drunk he doesn’t remember half of it. He doesn’t even recall how it came to be and how exactly he managed to keep it secret. That’s why he isn’t about to go out of his way this time. He’s pretty sure some tension loaded looks is all it’s going to be. Lucas is way too scared of his friends picking up on him ogling someone that isn’t a girl to be bold.

But then the guy’s companion leaves and all that’s left is a pretty boy leaning against the wall, looking straight through Lucas, sending shivers down his spine. The boy cocks his eyebrow, his mouth stretched in a lazy smile. He nods his head towards the exit and winks at him.

Lucas is left dumbfounded, his throat dry. He looks over to his friends, but they are still engrossed in their conversation. He glances back towards the empty wall. His pulse picks up. Be it fear or excitation, he isn’t sure.

He should follow him. No one would even notice him slipping away.

He takes a step and well, there’s a hand on his shoulder in an instant. He looks up.

“Everything good?” Yann asks, those big brown eyes full of concern. And Lucas remembers just how long it’s taken him to get over them.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Need some fresh air.”

Yann nods and lets him go. Lucas sends his way a reassuring smile and gets out of the room before he literally bolts out of the house. He doesn’t know where the guy is, but something tells him that he’s going in the right direction.

His instincts don’t fail him.

Once he rounds the corner of the house, someone tugs on his sleeve and pulls him further into the shadows. Lucas yelps, initially, before realising he’s facing the same boy from the party. Now grinning widely, only centimetres away from his face. Lucas can’t help but smile back at him, feeling giddy.

He’s pushed against the wall of the house, the boy’s fingers making their way towards Lucas’ hair and tangling in the strands on the nape of his neck.

“Can I?” the boy whispers, his lips brushing against Lucas’.

Lucas doesn’t usually kiss strangers, not for himself at least, only when he has to put on a show for his friends. But this time, just like the other two times he was too intoxicated to be scared, he lets his guard down and leans in.

***

The morning after the party, Lucas wakes up with a sore throat, aching muscles and the temperature so high that Mika seriously considers taking Lucas to the doctor. Which he obviously declines because he’s strong and will get over it. Duh.

Plot twist: he doesn’t get over it as quickly as he wishes.

***

Lucas wipes his running nose, scrolling through social media. He is finally present enough to catch up with everything he’s missed in the days he was dying.

In retrospect, Lucas admits that hooking up with handsome boys on some random parties has its perks – mainly the hooking up part, but Lucas can’t say this outweighs him having a fever and being stuck in the bed for the whole week. Now, when he’s almost healthy again and no longer horny, he knows that making out and humping someone for good two hours straight, outside, can never be a good idea. Especially when it’s still February, it was night and he wasn’t properly dressed nor sober. Lucas only hopes the other guy’s got at least a cough. Solidarity, right?

Lucas doesn’t even have a name for the person that put him in such a situation. To be fair, though, Lucas hasn’t revealed his personal information either. His mouth was rather preoccupied. It was a nice fling, but that’s all it was. A fleeting thing, nothing he’s going to mull over.

Maybe one day kissing a boy will be ground-breaking for him, who knows.

For the most part of his feverish days, he was out of it. He’s had enough energy to inform the boys he’d be absent as well as school and then he fucked off and left his phone on silent. Mika and Lisa would check up on him, bring him food, but other than that he didn’t accept other human interactions.

To be quite honest, there hasn’t been that much happening. Only some common room gathering that apparently was interesting enough for Yann, Arthur and Basile to attend. Lucas thinks it’s nothing out of ordinary, that they will probably tell him all about it when he comes back to school, but then he stumbles across something on Yann’s and Basile’s Instagram accounts.

That something being various selfies, the kind that they take whenever they’re fucking around as a group. This time, though, there’s a face Lucas has never seen before.

In one picture, the four of them are doing some poses, in another Basile is attempting to climb the new guy, the next one shows Arthur making a kissy face at him and the guy grinning widely, his whole face scrunched up. In the last one that Lucas sees, Yann has his arm thrown over the guy’s shoulder, a lazy smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

Lucas sits up in his bed, feeling hot all over again. He’s staring at the pictures of them all having fun and his heartbeat speeds up.

He can’t believe he’s been replaced in only about a week. Lucas closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. No need to freak out. There must be a good explanation for this.

Lucas scrolls further and sees pictures of his boys and Emma’s girls, and the guy. Common room mentioned in the captions. Oh God, he’s everywhere.

Lucas’ door flings open and he drops his phone.

“How are we feeling today?” Mika asks, plopping down onto Lucas’ bed and Lucas glares at him, hoping that the fact he’s nearly been through an emotional breakdown doesn’t show on his face.

“Fuck, you scared me,” Lucas mumbles, trying to kick Mika off the bed. Mika only grabs his ankle and pushes it back.

“Do you want some more chicken soup?”

Lucas grimaces the second these words leave Mika’s mouth.

“That’s the only thing I’ve been eating for the past week.”

“Oh, wow, okay. I nurse you back to health and you complain? Fine, next time you will beg me to bring you that soup,” Mika whines, crossing his arms over his chest. Then he glances down at Lucas’ phone and before Lucas can react, he snatches the device to himself. “Who is that?” Mika asks, his eyebrows pulled up. His thumb swipes on the screen a couple of times and he whistles.

“How the fuck would I know,” Lucas mutters, reaching his hand out for Mika to give him the phone back. Mika looks at him out of the corner of his eye, suspicious.

“New friend?” He wriggles his eyebrows and Lucas sighs in exasperation.

“No. Give me my phone back,” he demands, flexing his fingers for emphasis. Mika squints at him, but eventually obeys and places the phone in Lucas’ palm. He stands up and slowly moves towards the door. Only stops right before leaving.

“Rest up, so tomorrow you can go to school without fainting,” Mika throws over his back and then he’s gone. As is all of Lucas’ motivation for anything.

He falls down on his pillow.

***

Arriving to school on Monday has never been as nerve-wracking as it is today. All because Lucas doesn’t know what he’s going to be met with.

Like, logically, Yann and Lucas have been friends since they were little, Arthur and Basile have never shown an indication that they didn’t want Lucas there. They all have been a tight group for a few years now. They wouldn’t just find a replacement for Lucas in a week. And it would take much more than a flu for them to kick him out.

But Lucas’ logic has long flown out of the window, right around that time he wasn’t enough for his father to even consider staying. That’s why he expects the worst.

His steps are deliberate when he’s crossing the schoolyard. They slow down even more once he notices his friends, hanging out on a bench. Arthur is talking over Basile and Yann is shaking his head at their shenanigans, but the second Lucas walks up to them the chatter stops.

They look over him and simultaneously stand up.

The guys hugging and high-fiving him is not what Lucas has been thinking of, so he’s a little bit caught off guard. And also feeling stupid for doubting them.  

“What’s up?” Yann asks, nudging him in the shoulder all the while Arthur and Basile sit back down on the bench.

Lucas sends them a small smile. “Good.”

“All healthy?” This time it’s Arthur’s voice and Lucas nods.

He clears his throat. “What about you, guys?”

Basile takes a deep breath and is about to go on a rant when Arthur covers his mouth with his hand.

“We are great,” Arthur says. Basile’s muffled whining can be heard from behind Arthur’s fingers, but Lucas can’t make out any sense out of it. “So much happened in the week you’ve been gone,” Arthur adds and takes his hand off Basile’s face, looking at him with daggers in his eyes. “You were going to say something stupid without thinking, no need to thank me.”

Basile pouts and sighs.

“Don’t mind them,” Yann snorts. “You haven’t missed that much, but we can catch up on everything during lunch break?”

“Yeah, sure. So,” he clears his throat, “are we getting in or?”

“We are waiting for Eliott!” Basile exclaims and all blood drains from Lucas’ face. There’s an ugly feeling coming to life inside of him.

“God, do you ever listen to me? Now you’ve ruined the surprise,” Arthur groans, moving his hands aggressively.

“Who… who’s Eliott?” Lucas asks, scowling. His voice sounds small and he hopes none of them hear that.

Both Arthur and Basile get a love-stricken looks on their faces the moment Lucas finishes his question.

Yann interrupts whatever either of them was about to say with a short, “He’s a new guy in school. We met him last week, he’s cool and we’ve been hanging out.”

Lucas hums.

“He’s in one of your classes, then?”

“Unfortunately, no. He’s older,“ Arthur says.

“So, why are we waiting for him?” Lucas asks, feeling like an idiot.

“Dude,” Basile whispers, his head tilted to the side.

“Because that’s what friends do?” Arthur asks, putting a finger to his lips.

“You’ve known him for a week,” Lucas deadpans.

“It’s like as if we didn’t wait to go into the school for Yann. You don’t leave a bro like that,” Basile says with strong emotion in his voice and Lucas frowns.

“You are comparing some stranger to Yann?”

Yann tugs on Lucas’ elbow, turning Lucas’ attention to himself.

“He doesn’t know anyone here and he’s a lot of fun. So we thought he can hang with us. Why are you getting so worked up over this?” Yann’s voice is gentle, but firm and Lucas opens his mouth to answer, but before he can get anything out, Basile squeals.

“It’s him,” Arthur supplies, all the while Basile is swinging his arm left and right in a poor imitation of waving, not caring that he could hit someone really hard.  

Lucas turns his head and it’s like the whole world slows down for a minute. There’s the guy from the pictures. He’s smiling towards the group in the same way Lucas has seen on Instagram. He’s wearing a beige jacket and his hair is a mess. Lucas notices a weird bounce in his steps. All of the things for some reason look unnatural, but at the same time effortless on this guy. Watching him come up to them feels like a fucking slow motion sequence from a movie, not something that happens in real life.

He comes to a stop and still smiling, shrugs. Only when his eyes land on Lucas, does he realise he’s been gaping and he closes his mouth.

“Hi,” Eliott says, rather shyly. He says it to all of them, but somehow it feels like it’s directed right at Lucas.

Lucas nods and looks away, tucking his hands into the pockets of his jacket. That’s when Basile and Arthur jump up from their places and nearly tackle Eliott to the ground with excessive hugging.

What the fuck has gotten into them.

Yann claps Eliott on the back, letting the other two torture him with questions about his weekend and whatnot.

They still have a couple of minutes to spare before the first bell, so the guys engage in the conversation. Lucas, on the other hand, sits down on the bench that’s now empty and pulls out his phone.

He isn’t very interested in getting familiar with Eliott. Basile, Arthur and Yann getting all over him are enough. He busies himself with a game on his phone, thank you very much.

Unfortunately, he can’t be left alone for too long.

“Lucas, Lucas, Lucas,” someone calls out for him after some time passes and he looks up, just to be met with four pairs of interested eyes. “Come here,” Basile urges him.

With a lot of effort, Lucas eventually tucks his phone in and stands up.

“Lucas, Eliott, Eliott, Lucas,” Arthur points at them respectively and Eliott sends Lucas a small, more private smile. That annoys Lucas for some reason and he sets his teeth, the muscle in his jaw ticking.

“I’ve heard a lot about you,” Eliott admits, the apples of his cheeks tinted pink.

“Cool. Can we go to classes now?” Lucas asks, his tone harsher than he intended to and something flashes across Eliott’s face making his smile lose its brightness. Lucas chooses to ignore it.

Not waiting for a response, he pushes past Eliott and Basile, who’s standing next to Eliott, and steps towards the entrance, leaving his friends completely baffled.

Lucas only realises he must have made a fool out of himself once he’s already in class. He should have contained all of his emotions instead of letting them spill out like that. Now he’s made things awkward. And by the time the first lesson is over, he’s already gotten confused texts from his friends.

He sighs deeply, moving a hand over his face. How is he supposed to show up at the lunch break now?

***

Turns out he doesn’t have to, thanks to someone having an awful aim and decking Lucas in the head with a ball during his PE class. Is he happy about being sent to a nurse and spending a whole hour on an uncomfortable bed there because they have to check whether he got a concussion? Absolutely not. But he’s definitely not hating the fact that they tell him to go home earlier and get some rest.

His head is throbbing, but he’s mostly numb to the pain considering he wasn’t all that fresh for the past week anyway. Still, it’s annoying and makes him pretty irritated.

Despite all of that, he doesn’t want his friends to think he’s avoiding them. That’s why he deems sending a guess who got a mild concussion eyyy to their group chat as appropriate. He adds a dozen emojis, just to make sure he comes off as normal as possible. They seem to buy it, if their partly sympathetic and partly mocking responses are anything to go by.

He comes back to the apartment rather happy with about the universe having been on his side today. He doesn’t think about how his friends will be spending yet another day with Eliott and not him. Lucas is focused on how he doesn’t have to spend time with the dude.

He hangs his jacket by the door and takes his steps towards his bedroom when there’s a noise coming from the kitchen. Then Lisa emerges from there with two plates full of sandwiches in her hands. They both stop in their tracks, frozen and stare at each other for a long moment.

“Shouldn’t you be at school?” she asks eventually.

“Shouldn’t you be at work?” he retorts.

There are a few beats of silence.

She shrugs one of her shoulders. “Yeah. Want a sandwich?”

“Sure,” Lucas replies just in the right time for his stomach to remind him he hasn’t eaten anything in the last few hours.

They settle in the living room. Lisa turns on the TV, all the while Lucas reaches out for one of the sandwiches and lies down on the couch.

“If you leave crumbs all over the place, Mika will kill you,” she says, sitting in the remaining space on the couch. She proceeds to bite down on her sandwich. Seeing how soon enough she’s brushing the crumbs off herself, not looking where they fall, Lucas concludes that frankly, she doesn’t care about Mika’s anger.

Well. Lucas shrugs to himself and continues eating, his eyes moving towards the TV. The good thing about a flatmate who isn’t very keen on socialising is that they both can enjoy the silence together without feeling pressured to talk.

Besides, there wouldn’t be really anything to talk about anyway.

***

The next day, Lucas comes to school prepared. He tells himself he won’t be outright rude and will just ignore anything considering their new addition to the group. Hopefully, if he’s got any functioning brain cells, Eliott will get the memo. He’s got enough of affection coming from Arthur and Baz, so he shouldn’t be upset over Lucas not falling head over heels for him as well. Unless he’s shameless and self-centred. Who knows, Lucas expects anything from someone with hair like that.

In the end, it turns out Lucas has done all of that bracing for nothing because Eliott doesn’t come to school that day. He’s absent on Wednesday as well, much to his friends' dismay. Well, Lucas isn’t the one to complain and thankfully, he almost goes a full day without having to hear about Eliott.

Almost.

***

Lucas is a fan of biology, no matter how uncool it may sound. He gets the subject and its logic. Besides, sharing the desk with Arthur is okay even if the guy can be distracting from time to time. But Lucas is good at biology, he gets grades that satisfy him and he doesn’t get as stressed over that class as he gets over the other ones.

His peace is disrupted when he’s getting ready before the class starts and someone who isn’t Arthur sits down next to him.

He clears his throat, confused. “Imane, you know you don’t sit here?” he asks.

She raises an eyebrow at him. “Thanks, genius. Don’t worry I’m not about to be your desk buddy,” she assures him.

“Okay, so what are you doing here?”

“You know Eliott, right?”

“Not really,” he replies, looking away and going back to putting things out of his backpack.

“He’s been hanging around you and your friends, hasn’t he?”

“I wasn’t at school last week.” He shrugs.

She hums. “Well, he’s an old friend of mine. Anyways, you didn’t come to the common room meeting last Friday, I’m aware. But your friends were so I guess you’re all in, yeah?”

Lucas isn’t sure where it’s going and why she needed to mention Eliott before jumping to another topic, but he nods cautiously. If the guys like the idea of the common room that much, they are going to drag him in anyway.

“Okay, so there’s this hideous mural. And Eliott volunteered to paint it. But he hasn’t been at school and we wanted to talk about the details. So I thought you may know something.”

He looks up at her, his eyes narrowed. The bell rings in the distance, but he ignores it.

“Can’t you like, text him?”

“I don’t have his phone number. Or any other way of contacting him,” she says, her fingers tapping on the desk. Lucas’ eyes fall to the movement briefly and then back up at her face.

“Didn’t you just say you were friends?” he asks, each word measured.

Now it’s Imane’s turn to look to the side. She bites on her lower lip before saying, “It’s complicated.”

Hm. Suspicious.

“Anyway,” she breathes out. “I assume that we could talk it out? If you’re involved as well. Then you could just tell Eliott everything?”

Lucas opens his mouth, but he’s interrupted by, “Lucas, Imane, the lesson has started. You can talk later.”

He looks over at the teacher.

“Yes, of course. I’ll go to my seat,” Imane says, her tone apologetic. She starts gathering her things.

“Oh, you can stay there. Everyone’s already settled in their place. And I’m sure some separation from his friend will be beneficial for Arthur over there.”

Imane sags down in resignation and nods. Lucas isn’t sure what exactly has just happened, but he looks over his shoulder just to see Arthur sitting next to Alexia, his expression agitated.

***

Thursday comes and goes uneventfully. Before Lucas knows, it’s Friday and he just can’t wait to go home.

He is playing with his food, bored all the while the guys are talking. Sometimes he’ll look up at them, but that’s about that. They don’t really demand his attention and he doesn’t feel like engaging in their discussions. That’s it until Eliott’s name is dropped and he perks up, the weird conversation with Imane still apparent in his mind. He hasn’t told his friends about it yet even though it’s been two days since then.

“What’s going on with this guy, anyway?” he asks out of the blue, interrupting Basile. He straightens his back a little. “He volunteered for something, but then he’s skipping school.” By the time it’s been another day when Eliott hasn’t turned up, for a second Lucas thought to himself that maybe he was just a feverish dream. A manifestation of Lucas’ fears.

“I texted him and he said he isn’t feeling well,” Arthur says.

“I see,” Lucas answers, dragging his fork over his pasta.

“Maybe he got the flu from you, Lucas,” Basile suggests and Lucas looks up at him, frowning.

“Oh, sure, because I’ve been hanging off of him like you,” he says bitterly and gets a snicker in return.

“Cranky because the parents got another kid they’re showering with affection instead?” Basile asks, his mouth full of food.

“First of all, you’re disgusting,” Lucas points his fork at Basile, “Second of all, no. I just don’t get what’s the big deal. He’s just a guy. Irresponsible, on top of that, since Imane had to track me down to talk about some mural.”

“He’s not just a guy. He’s so fucking cool, dude. Give him a chance. And you have no idea how excited he was about that mural. You’ve missed out on Monday. He shared his vision with us. Just because he’s not feeling well, it doesn’t mean you have to judge him.” Arthur flicks a piece of peas at Lucas once he’s finished. It lands in his hair. Lucas rolls his eyes and picks the thing out just to throw it at Basile.

“You need to chill,” he concludes.

“You need to chill,” Basile repeats.

“Okay, we need to keep going,” Yann says, standing up.

Everyone begins collecting their plates, but Lucas sluggish moves make him the last to follow. The guys are almost out of the cafeteria when he’s only started getting up. He’s about to leave as well, but there’s buzzing in his pocket. Three times. He thinks it’s probably his mom as he pulls his phone out and unlocks it.

“You coming?” Yann calls out to him.

“Give me a minute,” Lucas replies, not looking up.

The messages are from an unknown number and Lucas frowns as he taps on them. The moment he sees what they contain, he exhales sharply and his heart skips a few beats before picking up its speed. He’s scowling at what’s just been sent to him, not really comprehending what it is. His grip on the phone tightens and he swallows roughly. He doesn’t hear anything around him besides the consistent ringing. His knees give up under him and he falls back on his chair, still staring at the messages.

Two pictures showing him kissing the guy at the party and right under them a for now, I’m only letting you know I have these, have a good day! are staring back at him.

[letspopculture]

Ariana Grande

thank you, next

Release date: February 8th, 2019

Rate: 9/10

After the whirlwind of a year that was 2017, Ariana Grande turned the world upside down with her 2018 LP sweetener, a mostly up-tune, Pharrell-produced project that received mixed reviews but had fans at the edge of their seats nonetheless.

Shortly after the front-loaded success that was breathin, Ms. Grande surprised the world by doing the unexpected: releasing a new track with no prior promotion or announcement. The smash that became thank u, next sparked a career highlight for the pop-sensation. Quickly taking the top spot on iTunes & Billboard, Grande proved that she is a force to be reckoned with. With the hype of ‘name-dropping,’ channeling the top chick-flicks, and meme after meme, it is no doubt that the world was talking about, and singing along to, the iconic track for several different reasons.

96 days later, (and exactly 5 months & 22 days after the release of sweetener) Grande has dropped her fifth LP of the same name, and the album, like much of Grande’s sonically-driven decisions, does not disappoint.

The album opens with imagine, a mid tempo ballad that acknowledges Grande’s vocals on many different levels. It’s not just the whistle tones that blow the listener away, however. Instead it is the image that is painted as the track rolls out. A beautiful story about comfort and love with lines such as: “me with no make up / you in the bathtub / bubbles and bubbly / oh.” You almost believe this love to be everlasting when suddenly Grande belts out “Imagine a world like that.” It is the sad reality that this love, although possible, is far gone and only something left to the mind that makes this song Grande’s best opener yet.

Following a similar theme, comes needy; a single that has been teased and anticipated by diehard arianators for many months now. Both the lingering production and smoothness of Grande’s vocals on this track prove that her forte excels in the field of R&B. Although this track was deemed to be the fan favorite, the listener can’t help but see it as a filler track in comparison to what lies ahead. No matter the reception of this tune, “Tell me how good it feels to be needy” will definitely be on the top list of instagram captions for many months to come.

Rupaul’s Drage Race All Stars 3 finalist, Shangela, introduces NASA; a repetitive mix of pop and trap beats that are almost as brilliant as the pun that the tune embodies. Here, Grande flaunts her demand for figurative space in a relationship, while comparing herself to a more extraterrestrial definition that presents itself with the title of the song. Although she is no God is a woman, Grande provides a catchy tune that’ll be stuck in your head long after listening to it for the first time.

The next track, Into You’s younger sister, bloodline, is another prime example of the pop perfection that creates itself when radio-genius producer Max Martin & Grande work together. Without a doubt, this song proves that Ariana pays attention to what her fans want, and has no problem giving them exactly that. The empowering beat fits perfectly with the confidence that the pop singer brings out throughout the track. It’ll come as no surprise once this song becomes a signature hit all on its own. Ari, please make this a single eventually. 

No, it’s not a Kanye West track, it’s rather an unexpected twist to the snappy pop sound that presents itself in fake smile. Another catchy tune, and with a beat as light and happy as it may seem, you almost forget that Grande is singing “I can’t fake another smile / I can’t fake like I’m alright.” Much to her previous work, Grande’s pop tracks have no problem creating a rhythm that makes you want to dance alongside lyrics that can make the perfect ballad. 

Similar to the theme that encompass the singer’s fifth LP, we see another tune about the desire to fill a void of loneliness. bad idea can’t help but make you want to sway your hips left and right while ignoring the sad lyrics about using someone to help numb the pain away. Alongside the perfect-pop production (I’m sucker for alliteration), the lyrics continue to demonstrate growth and maturity in Grande’s songwriting abilities. 

I won’t lie, when I first heard track seven the first thing that popped into my mind was Rihanna, and although this tune is evidently inspired by the Barbadian superstar, Grande still manages to give it her own twist which is what makes her stand out as the pop star she is today. The 2 minutes and 20 seconds on this record are simple, yet there is something unique and brilliant about make up. Although short, the track proves its place among the strong contenders before and after it, and ends at the perfect time without leaving the listener wanting any more.

Although Grande can belt out notes that place her in a league of her own compared to her peers, she isn’t known for ballads. For this reason, ghostin stands out in the best way possible. My personal favorite, this record presents a sad, yet almost peaceful self-realization about the heartache of losing something you can never have again. This track is a highlight for tu,n and leaves a mesmerizing feeling, ghostlike almost, much like the song intends to do. No belts, no big production, no ‘big drop,’ and it is those very things that make Grande’s heartbreak feel real and raw.

“Here’s the thing / you’re in love with a version of a person that you’ve created in your head / that you’re trying to, but cannot fix / the only person that you can fix is yourself” almost sounds like the beginning of what is to be the most depressing song of the 2010’s. Instead, a trap beat takes over a dark theme about forcing an almost doomed love to work out. Although a little cringy, the skrrt-skrrt’s make the possible-diss track fun to listen to without reading too heavily into who the singer could possibly be talking about throughout in my head.

Shortly after, come 7 rings & thank u, next, the mega-smashes that have both debuted atop the Billboard Hot 100 chart and have remained on top for simultaneous weeks, and many more to come I’m sure. We all know why these songs are #1, and we know exactly why we can’t stop singing along to either track as soon as they come on our radios.

The closer, Martin-produced & *NSYNC-sampled track, break up with your girlfriend, I’m bored, is a unique ending to the chapter that is tu,n. The mysterious beat, much like the title itself, can’t help but intrigue you right off the get-go. With more yuh’s and more catchy choruses, there is no doubt that this track will follow the same success as the singles before it. An interesting end, but with an album full of all songs that can be radio hits, one cannot expect any less.

thank u, next proves one thing to be true: Grande no longer needs to belt out high notes to prove that she is a star. That was proven many albums ago and here she demonstrates that simplicity is key. Through midtempo beats, catchy choruses, and a melancholy story, the 25 year-old star is telling the world that sadness is not only inspiring, but can also create some of the most fun, and beautiful, stories to tell.