#i knew a kid in middle school who stepped on a rusty nail and it went thru those canvas shoes like butter.

[themslash]

it's so hard for me to keep my anger with this one character just in my reading journal. i dont want to talk about it i'm in the first half still and i dont want to be spoiled. but CANVAS SHOES?? FUCKING CONVERSE??? you bought CANVAS SHOES for a man going on a 40 km hike on MARBLE!! i'm going to drown you.

[cloveroctobers]

YASMIN DOUGLAS—

IG info/Bio: @/imyasmin_d | 11.6k followers | hello & ahlan 🎶

23-24 years old depending on her birthday (I’m thinking too much about timelines since i know some shows aren’t live and if they filmed it prior & it’s just being shown to us now...then there’s the boat party that comes in after, you get what I’m saying right? No? Okay)

Moroccan heritage

she was born in fes along with her baba

Father works in the carpet & rug manufacturing industry and worked in his father’s business from the young age of 16

her mother is from Essaouira & has often stated that she couldn’t stand Yasmin’s father the first time they met but she wouldn’t want to travel through this life with anyone else

Her father and mother came from two different lifestyles. All he knew how to do was hard work yet he had a sarcastic but playful side to him whereas her mom came from a family that was more financially stable & she was free to do whatever! mainly hanging at the beach with her friends without a care in the world, she was privileged and a little uppity while her father’s life seemed to be planned out from the day of his birth

Yet they still fell in love and decided to leave Morocco months after they got married at 21 & 24 & not too long after they had yas they left for England

She was raised in Kent, England

The Atmosphere led to her boho lifestyle...being exposed to castles, gardens, and underground tunnels from time to time shaped her into what she felt she was meant to be. She loved her second home

they call her “yazzy”

Parents follow islam...Which Yasmin respects but is not strongly devoted to

Can speak & write in Arabic but seems to do better in writing

Her paternal grandparents fault her parents for not teaching her to excel at both & feel that if they weren’t in such a rush to leave home she would speak Arabic better

Which made Yasmin feel like shit. Her paternal grandparents were strict on keeping their customs alive whereas her maternal grandparents were carefree as long as they got to see their granddaughter alive & well that was good enough for them

Idk maybe a only child or has a older brother? I don’t feel like she comes from a big family sibling wise

her mother made her a stuffed purple sheep that she took everywhere with her as a kid & continues to keep close to her. Y’all had imaginary friends? Well Yasmin had a real friend she could see & squeeze the life out that didn’t require talking and hugging the air, but that’s fine do u

100% collects beanie babies until this day but lil yamb is the number one princess in her household

As her significant other you have to be okay with lil yamb sleeping in between y’all that’s just the way it is

These stuffed babies are her comfort when no else can be

she’s a singer/songwriter. Went to uni for it & finished a semester early

Went through multiple hell experiences when it came to interning & temping while still in school & after

Let’s just say she wasn’t down to f*ck her way to the top

this made her anxiety act up, these people made her feel like she wouldn’t be good enough to show the world her craft & it’s didn’t have to be the world, just someone who would listen

But she couldn’t give up, there was nothing else she saw herself doing. She knew this is what she was meant to do but she couldn’t lie and say that her insecurities didn’t get the best of her most days

Although the cons seemed to out way the Pros some days, she kept at it & found herself a solid team that knew what she was about and understood her soul

Was definitely the student who loved all her English classes & when she spoke up everyone found it shocking since she preferred to just write everything out rather than “participate in group discussions”

I feel like her singing voice sounds similar to Jessica mauboy’s (if you don’t know who that is & you’re a fan of r&b/pop check her out or if you’re just curious that works too lol)

Knows her music notes like the back of her hand, duh!

Fav color is royal blue, especially on her eyelids & nails

Occasionally sleeps in rollers to keep her hair wavy

Needs her space when it comes to disagreements, they stress her out & she panics a bit when things go wrong so she feels like she needs to leave the situation rather than talk it out right then and there

She’ll talk when she’s ready, she just needs someone that’s a little patient with her that’s all

Words of affirmation is her love language? When she figures out how to balance her love life with her work life that is. When she’s feeling confident she’s smooth with words but when she needs to show you how much you mean to her & she really takes the time to think it out & feel her emotions, she’s writing you a song or you’re the inspiration to it or a poem, leaving you little love notes on blue post-it’s around the house, will write 50 reasons why she loves you on Valentine’s Day, and will say so when it’s just the two of you in your own comfort

Isn’t too crazy about public displays of affection but will deff hold your hand if that’s something you or she wanted in that moment

I think she’s fluid

Hasn’t been in many relationships. Sure she goes on tour every other year and gets to meet many people but they’re not solid relationships, they’re hookups and she hasn’t done many of those either

Had maybe one or two solid relationships: a androgynous woman that uses she/they pronouns & was in a rock band & a cis male she met at a tattoo parlor his step-brother owned (he kinda favored seb but we’re not going to speak on that)

I believe she wants to get married someday but isn’t so keen on the idea of kids. The furthest she’ll go is adopting a couple of animals. She’ll be a pet mom! I feel like she’ll be anxious looking after the life of a human being when it’s extremely hard to do so not only for herself and the love of her life & you want to add kids to the mix?! Fucking hell! but that could change? Who knows what life can throw at u

Has a hedgehog named Sonia that she drops off at her parents for their weekly sleepovers

Loves lace—mostly bralettes & crotchet clothing

I see her as a corduroy girl too. She has at least some rusty brown low-rise corduroy pants or/and a jacket

owns a crotchet kit, she’s bloody good at it too

Loved pink & purple (still likes them, they’re her 2nd & 3rd fav colors) so much as a kid that she tried to dye her hair half & half while her parents went out on their date night...it was also the weekend before school pictures :)

Says she got her inspiration from starfire & raven. She was only 13 at the time & had braces. Her father approved saying she’s a kid and she should be allowed to express herself. He only said that because his own parents barely let him & his brothers have their own fun

Her mother thought it was atrocious and did her best to get it out with the help of her other hair stylists friends (her mother worked in plenty of beauty shops once she got to England, until she decided to convert their basement into her own shop) who she invited over to see what her daughter had done but when you use certain permanent dyes...

It didn’t completely damage yasmin’s hair plus it was just hair, Yasmin didn’t see the big deal. She thought she looked splendid

Anyway, massive fan of ballroom dancing

She’s got a great ear to begin with so it was extremely fun twirling around while wearing pretty ballroom gowns

Took boring etiquette classes as a form of punishment? After the whole teen Titans inspiration thing “went wrong”

Enjoys western films

yes she owns a cowgirl hat & some boots too so sue her, she likes what she likes

Knows how to lasso but hates doing it to animals but she’ll do it to you :) (*gags* lmao why???)

Also loves visiting western towns & learning some history or at least experiencing what it was like

Type of significant other that will do her best to persuade you to stay in a treehouse airbnb, a cabin, the fucking Idaho potato, or camping out in her Volkswagen van in the middle of nowhere!

Has faux cow rugs, wicker baskets, wicker chairs in her flat, hangs some plants in glass jars & bottles all over her house

Her flat is very bright & vibrant: white, mocha brown, tan, yellows, & pastel purple

When it comes to decision making, she’ll make them pretty quick but only if it comes to choosing desserts

nobody is touching her mom’s meskouta orange cake WITH syrup

the dessert eater that always picks the one that has a surprise inside, meaning it has to ooze out with SOMETHING to make it 10x more satisfying

Leaning towards Buddhism, had studied some of their beliefs and found it resonates with her spirit

Fan of neon lights, probably has a few neon signs in her flat preferably on her brick wall in the loo, “to give u comfort as you go!” “that...actually makes sense.” Tai commented as he rubbed his chin coming to terms with yasmin’s reply. While Iona scowls, “no, no it doesn’t. I feel as if it’s an invasion of my bits!” “...Sorry you feel that way.”

tai & ciaran are automatically deemed as her brothers since she came into the villa with them. She had time to connect with them unlike anyone else. It was just the way the stars wrote their story and it showed outside of the villa too. they often crash at her place all the time when they’re in town & vacation all the time together when their schedules line up + it never feels like she’s third wheeling

“TaiTower” & “BB-Ci” are their names in her phone, Tai picked his own name while the “bb” stands for “best buds” for ciaran —which is a joke since he drunkly called himself so + he loves everyone when he’s drunk

You can always count on her to belt the lyrics to a Chaka Khan, TLC, or paula abdul joint when she’s drunk lol

As for the girls? She’s close with miki 😒 they just seem to be on the same wavelength when it comes to the pressure of the media since they have some sort of fame which increased with them being on the Telly. They bond over that & from there they’ve built a solid friendship

She could also be friends with AJ too (if you didn’t get swiped from her that is lmao!) they’re sorta opposites with aj being high energy/active while Yasmin is more mellow & “mysterious” but seem to connect in different ways: their sexual indentities, insecurities/anxieties, having something to be passionate about but at the same time maybe not? She might lean towards elladine or Genevieve if she had to make a choice?

Aquarius sun + cancer moon

so she’s still 23 y’all, I got it! I can’t do math sorry

“Freddie Mercury was probably my dad in my past life.”

Can play the banjo, guitar, & oud

Participates in hot yoga weekly

If she’s not with mc in the end and continues dating around if anyone from season two: LUCAS, Kassam, Gary, Rocco, maybe Blake? I originally thought Elisa but she’s probably too much for yas let’s be honest here lol they’d be better off as friends

Omg I forgot marisol! Imagine that?! Whew!!!

Season three: maybe Lily? But what if? Me being the slightly messy bitch that I am? Something happening with her & AJ. Now that?! Would be some chaotic shit “from the outside looks of it” name the irrelevant person behind the quote...now!

I’d like to see her interact with allerga but there could be something with her & cherry. I’m thinking cherry, Yasmin, & priya would bond well but we’re not here to talk about that

Getting rid of the physical aspect I genuinely think she’d do well with marisol, Lucas, or kassam. They’d mesh well I think in a relationship

She’s a body shimmer girl for sure!

Loves silk or satin robes

she’s a shortie, 5’2 to 5’5

Is learning Spanish

Loves arcade games, come see her in pinball & Pac-Man!

Quarantine life did not change her lifestyle much, but it did slightly mess with her mental health :/

loves the fall time, feels like she can slow down some and really spend time with family and friends

I feel like she has one best friend outside of the villa & that’s good enough for her!

They met their first year in uni & been close ever since

She doesn’t speak to the temporary friends she grew up with anymore & is often confused why they feel the need to keep up with her in the media which added more annoying worries to her heart but whatever right? Keep your eyes on the horizon

celebs she finds/found attractive: Aaliyah—especially when she played in queen of the damned, Kehlani, Zazie Beetz, Fivel & Booboo Stewart, Lakeith stanfield, Leah Lewis, Sofia Carson, Ryan gosling, & Nick Jonas

She listens to: jade bird, Yebba, Elli Ingram, Wafia, Zeina, Summer walker, Tanerèlle, Mariah the scientist, Teyana Taylor, Tove Lo, lady Gaga, Ra Ra Riot, Empire of the sun, & smallpools

Anthem? Diana Gordon — Rollin’

[cricketrigby]

* ( kristine froseth ) ⁠— cricket rigby has lived in somewhere for 23 years, which is crazy considering they are only twenty three.  you can usually find her working at the somewhere roller rink . when i think of strawberry bubblegum, heart shaped sunglasses, & twirling the stem of a rose between your fingertips, i can’t help but think of them as well. ( pepper, twenty four, she/her, est )

ABOUT THE MUN.  sick of thinking! won’t be doing that again

hello all! my name is pepper and i have never been on time for anything ever in my life so it’s pretty fitting that i’m the last one to get my intro up dkjdkj love this for me,,, always on brand. anyways, i am Returning to the rpc kind of maybe after a month hiatus and i wanted something cute and chill to try and get back into the swing of things... i’m hoping this group will be that! but yeah please bear with me i am Definitely going to be a bit rusty,,,, and i am sorry in advance. but Anyways, enough about that and onto some fun facts about me. to start, i just turned twenty four two weeks ago and i am Still in shock about it so jot that down, i hate it here. i have like,,, the opposite of a green thumb, i have killed every plant i have ever had, rip peter the succulent you were a good egg. i regularly say i’m feeling ___ in this chillis tonight despite never being to chillis. i enjoy garbage movies, like the worse it is the better (tyler perry movies, the fast and the furious series, etc). i straight up don’t get like critically acclaimed movies i’m ngl,,, like really like Great movies go straight over my head rip but Anyways moving on to who we’re all here for, ms cricket rigby ! 

BIO.  we need sluttier music….. 

cricket juliet rigby was born to arthur godwin rigby and sonya marie rigby nee bankcult right here in good old somewhere florida. the story is that her parents were actually on their way out of town when cricket decided to ‘jump’ out of her mother’s belly and arrive to the party early. her parents always liked to tell the story like it was cute or funny or something but kit always saw it a bit differently. she had her chance to get out and she screwed it up. and now she’s literally never left this hell hole since. it’s like she got impatient and accidentally screwed herself over for it. and if that isn’t foreshadowing for the rest of her life she doesn’t know what is.

it was her mom’s idea to name her cricket. she said it was because of the way she used to kick with both legs in the womb. like she was jumping. her father found her name ridiculous and insisted on calling her juliet, but that was to be expected. her mother was always the fanciful one out of the pair of them. you see, ricki’s father was a pretty successful lawyer and her mother was a children’s book illustrator. to put it simply her father was the type of person to give kids floss on halloween and her mother was the type to slip you a cookie when the ‘adults’ weren’t looking. they were complete opposites, honestly to the point where sometimes cricket didn’t even understand how her parents got together. but somehow against all odds they did, and they stayed together to boot. loved each other too. her mother always made her father loosen up a bit and her father usually kept her mother grounded. they suited each other, and they adored each other in a way cricket never really saw any other parents doing. well, until they didn’t. 

if cricket didn’t understand how her parents got together she sure understood why they didn’t stay together. you’d have to be blind as a bat to not see that one coming.

her parents fought constantly as cricket got older. the kind of loud, explosive fights that woke a kid up in the middle of the night and made the neighbors look at you with sympathy. there was no abuse or anything serious like that, or even cheating. her parents simply stopped liking each other. and that was honestly even scarier. that her parents could simply wake up one day and not like each other anymore. 

they called it quits when cricket turned thirteen. her mother broke the news to her over a shared joint on the beach. and honestly, it wasn’t really the kind of news you wanted to process while high, but well, nobody ever asked cricket. nobody ever really asked cricket anything. 

but well, her mother asked cricket one thing. to break the news to her little sister. cause yeah, she had one of those. kimberly. a regular sensible name for a regular sensible girl. not that there’s anything wrong with being regular or sensible. it’s just that cricket and her mother were neither of those things. if cricket took after her mother, then kimberly took after their father. her baby sister wanted to be an accountant for god’s sake. what six year old wants to be an accountant? 

anyways, cricket played messenger. she broke the news to her sister and comforted her in the aftermath. she listened to her mother as she told fanciful, beautiful stories about how much more she wanted from her life. and one sunny thursday afternoon, the very thursday she got her first period, the very thursday that a girl really needs her mom, like really needs her mom, she came home and didn’t have one anymore. or a sister either apparently. all she had was a dad crumpled on the living room floor around a heart shaped sticky note of all things. 

who leaves their fucking family with a fucking sticky note?

apparently dad was the only one in the family who didn’t know he and mom were over. cricket would feel bad about it if she wasn’t so busy feeling sorry for herself. because apparently her mother packed up her and kimmy’s things, picked up kimberly from school and just left somewhere forever. leaving cricket behind. just like that. cricket didn’t understand it. just the night before her and her mother were laying back on her bed, laughing. and now she was tossed aside like a discarded toy. second best in a two person race. cricket had never quite dealt with abandonment until that moment, but her first taste of it hurt like a bitch. it hurt all over. 

but things only got worse. cause then came stella. stella was cricket’s godmother. her mother’s best friend. the woman who would slip cricket money so she could buy herself a red lipstick at the mac counter or pick herself up that tube top she’d been wanting so badly. the woman who came with cricket and her mother when she got her first bra. the woman who was supposed to be there for her in the aftermath of all this. but apparently stella took the job a bit too seriously. 

she fucked her father. and not long after that she married him. cricket fought them every step of the way, but they still did it. and well, she had to live with it. her mother and best friend was gone, and this impostor was taking her place. and her father was just letting it all happen. in fact he was happy to do it. that’s what he kept telling her anyways. to let him be happy. that he deserved to be happy. but didn’t she deserve to be happy too?

her mother sent letters sometimes, and kimmy would occasionally call the house. cricket never opened the letters, and she never really spoke much to kimmy. i mean, it wasn’t kimberly’s fault, and cricket knew that. after all, she was six. she never had a choice either. but cricket couldn’t help being jealous of the little shit. kimberly missed dad so much and she wanted to come home. but she was out of somewhere, and she was with mom. she had everything cricket ever wanted and she wasn’t even appreciating it. it was a hard pill to swallow. eventually cricket started cutting the calls short. 

cricket and her father never saw eye to eye. he kicked her out of the house when she was seventeen after an argument between cricket and stella got so bad that things got physical on both their parts. and instead of kicking out the woman who hit his daughter, arthur got rid of the daughter instead. cricket didn’t mind. she simply went to live with her boyfriend at the time (who much like all of cricket’s boyfriends in the past was handsome, cool, and most importantly old enough to have his own place). after that she never really turned back. just... moved from boyfriends place to boyfriends place to girlfriends place to boyfriends place. saw her dad on holidays or when she needed money or under duress. and stayed in somewhere. for now. 

PERSONALITY.  feeling like the prettiest girl in the crawl space right now

as you can probably tell from that mess of an bio, this is my first time playing cricket so i don’t really have her personality nailed down yet BUT

ECCENTRIC. cricket got her mother’s weird hippy gene for sure honestly. she might even be an artist lowkey because of it. definitely is the type to just say weird as hell shit without shame. your local manic pixie dream girl tbh 

PROMISCUOUS. she a hoe and that’s a fact. love that for her though! gets around and is pretty shameless about it honestly. just here for a good time. kind of charming naturally and just generally like?? flirtatious?? the type to flirt with a cop to get out of a ticket. also the type to cry to get out of a really bad dad. the type to go on a date just cause her fridge is empty and yk a girl’s gotta eat. the kind of girl who had a bunch of rumours about her in high school like that she slept with so and so under the bleachers at an assembly or that she once did something nearly impossible on a trampoline. 

CONTRADICTORY. cricket is a compassionate person but she can also hold a grudge for a long ass time. still doesn’t really talk to her mom or little sister. but if you need a ride across town cricket will just give it to you even if she barely knows you. if you’re hungry and come to the roller rink she will slip you some fries free of charge even if she’ll probably get in trouble for it. will fight her stepmom ON SIGHT and slam a bitch down during roller derby but like will get so excited over something simple like the moon being out sdkdskj this bitch makes no sense y’all. 

MYSTERIOUS. at least to other people i feel like. cricket doesn’t really talk about herself or serious things, and she will change the topic if someone is getting too close. she’s the type who doesn’t open up easy, and therefore the type that a lot of guys like... idealize and build up into this mysterious untouchable thing yk? but she’s just a dumb girl who doesn’t want to talk about her feelings underneath it all sdkjdkj she’s just stupid

HEADCANNONS. at least whatever is wrong with me is really really funny 

lost her virginity at fourteen around the anniversary of her mother leaving. unfortunately the type who seeks love and acceptance in all the wrong places. tends to self sabotage when things are too good, or literally just go for people who are bad for her. bi af tho hey~ has been in more relationships than she can count for sure. will duck behind a wall when she sees any of her exes at the grocery store.

does ROLLER DERBY! will fight a bitch in the ring! very good at it despite how cute and angelic she looks sdksdk can and WILL slam a bitch into a wall. it’s just a fun hobby for her, but she loved the camraderie of it honestly. her team is a ragtag group of misfits and i Love them 

like i said in the chat, will now put up posters around town with a cute little polaroid of herself and her number on those little tab things just for shits and giggles to see who calls. will completely prank anyone who does call for fun

idk why but i feel like the roller rink is called l8r sk8r or something cheesy like that,,, i feel it in my Soul. also imagine the type of place where cricket goes around on rollerblades serving food, so yeah, you can order food probably and some showy girl on rollerblades will serve it to you 

has been a muse before. like guys have written songs about her in high school. one guy painted a portrait of her and it went in a literal gallery. is always very flattered but very like,,, cool thanks bye! 

i totally forgot to include this but the rigby’s are rich y’all. like country club rich. her daddy’s got that big money and their house is Huge but you would never be able to tell by the way cricket acts, she’s a mess.

speaking of, her name is indeed cricket (rip) but you can call her kit, kitty, rick, ricki, jiminey,,, all of it is valid 

the vibe is madchen amick folks,,, that’s the whole vibe and honestly she’s probably cricket’s style inspo like twin peaks??? maybe her favourite show

a feel like she might also be a lifeguard as a side hustle, but she only ever fills in when no one else can you know. she’s the emergency call in, and when she’s there she spends most of her time sitting in her lifeguard chair in her little red swim suit and flirting with whoever comes by to see her like sdkjsd is she good at her job? no. does she bring traffic to the beach? probably! 

WANTED CONNECTIONS.  i’m saving my brain for special occasions. if i use it every day it’ll get dirty

i would love an ex for her honestly,,, an ex bf or gf where cricket sabotaged things just when they were getting good? an ex on good terms maybe! an ex will they won’t they thing where they almost got together but never did? an old childhood crush for either party! a childhood enemy is also sexy! an old neighbor! someone who’s sibling she used to date or something! someone new to town that she’s intrigued by! someone new to town she doesn’t get along with (maybe cause of a bad first impression or something?) a one night stand! a fwb! a ewb! a BEST FRIEND GOD PLEASE! m or f i am down either way. i would kill for a girl squad though. maybe an ex best friend who hates cricket cause she slept with their boyfriend in high school or something. a party friend! someone she does roller derby with. someone she always sees in the crowd during roller derby. idk someone who she regularly sees at the motel she has her hookups at, maybe cause they’re also hooking up or maybe cause they just come to the motel often for some reason or honestly maybe they’re a vacationer that would make sense. uh someone she saved from drowning one time! OH someone she pretended to be dating to make an ex jealous or avoid one or something at one point,,,and anything else tbh we can absolutely brain storm! like this and i will slide into your dms <3

[staticscreenwriting]

thinking only autumn thoughts - Billy Hargrove

Synopsis: Autumn is magic. Billy is soft. 

A/N: I don’t even know what this is I just liked writing it. Please let me know what you think. Thanks :)

“October Country . . . that country where it is always turning late in the year. That country where the hills are fog and the rivers are mist; where noons go quickly, dusks and twilights linger, and mid-nights stay [...]

That country whose people are autumn people, thinking only autumn thoughts. Whose people passing at night on the empty walks sound like rain. . . . “

Hawkins Indiana isn’t a spectacular town by all means. It’s small and old and boring. It’s not particularly pretty to look at either with it’s peeling paint and rusty nails and dirty shop windows.

But there’s a certain time of year, just a few days almost over by the time you realize it, where things change. It’s a feeling in the air. A whisper in the wind. A scent that reminds you of childhood memories you thought long forgotten.

It’s when all is painted in the last hues of reds and orange but fall knows it’s time to go and let winter take over. The air is cold a crips and nips at your nose and blushes your cheeks but it’s still warm enough to take walks along the fields.

That’s when he met her. He was new in town and angry. Always angry. And sad. And she was — alive. Even now, years later, he’s not sure what he ever did right for things to fall into place the way they did that night.

He was hanging out at yet another party of yet another classmate he didn’t give a shit about. And he was miserable and bored and filled with teenage angst and repressed emotions. And there she was, in the middle of a crowd, ripped jeans and a madonna shirt and bright pink lipstick. Her hair was permed to the max and she wore the ugliest hoop earrings he’d ever seen. It wasn’t like he fell in love with her then, but there was something about her that intrigued him. She looked like a downright mess. Like she was the physical embodiment of how he felt inside. Hell, she was drinking one of those disgusting wine coolers. If that doesn’t scream misery to you, what does ?

He saw her again, a few days later. Sitting on the front porch of her house, just a few down from his. She looked sad again. Still beautiful. And when she caught his eye, she started to smile. Her hair was flowing in the wind and her cheeks were flushed and the tip of her nose was red from the cold and Billy, for the first time in his life, thought that maybe he was falling in love.

Things changed that day, when they started talking. About the weather and school and Hawkins and their shared hatred of the town and how all they wanted was to get out.

They spent that night together, at the playground behind their houses. Just talking. About the misery of a lost childhood and a fuck up youth. About their families and how messed up they were. About mother and the absence of those. About heartbreak and life. And love.

And since that night things were never the same again.

Every year for all the years he’s spent in Hawkins Indiana that was his favorite time. Because she seemed to come alive then. With her hair flowing in the wind and Halloween gone and forgotten and Christmas still a month away she was — almost weightless.

And every Thanksgiving, when the nuclear families stepped up a notch in pretending to be perfect, they’d suffer through a fake display of familiar love and comfort waiting for the right moment to slip away and meet up.

The diner was almost deserted that night, obviously. Families had better things to do than have their Thanksgiving meal at the local diner with the soggy fries and the burned burger patties. But to them it was good. It was everything.

He told her he loved her there. With the pink neon lights lighting up her face like she was a character in the Blade Runner movie.

And she told him she loved him back.

It was a good time in Hawkins, the bridge between fall and winter. Where things are cold but they felt so warm inside.

Only winter inevitably came. And it came with cold and fury and heartbreak.

It’s years later that he gets to witness another Thanksgiving in Hawkins. Another magical moment between fall and winter. Only it doesn’t seem to magical when he arrives.

The occasion isn’t a happy one to begin with. It’s not the long awaited bonding of his patchwork family. No. He’s not being welcomed with open arms.

He’s welcomed by a frail looking Neil in a hospital bed hooked to machines, connected by tubes.

His dad is dying. That’s the inevitable truth of it all and Billy has no idea how to feel about this. This situation is so strangely familiar but so very different.

When it was his mom, he was a kid and he didn’t know shit about life and death and mortality. He just knew that his mom was there one day and the next she was in the hospital and then she was dead and he was sad and angry.

This time he knows so much more but his head is still kind of empty. As is his heart. His mother’s passing hit him deeply. She was this wonderful woman who held nothing but kindness and love in her heart. Neil is an abusive asshole.

But he’s still his dad and no matter how much Billy tries to deny it, he’s still just a broken boy asking for a sign of approval, a hint of pride, a tiny sliver of love from his dad.

All he gets is a snarky remark about his new haircut and a snort when he tells Neil about his job at a center for troubled youth.

So he bids Max and Susann goodbye and goes to the one place that holds good memories for him.

Only when he enters the diner it’s not a good feeling that washes over him. There’s the nostalgia of what this place holds sure, but it all feels less magical and way more sad when he has to face it alone.

He asks for a piece of pumpkin pie, which he doesn’t even particularly like but (Y/N) always loved it and some stupid ass part of his brain thinks that maybe that can bring them closer even if she’s not here.

“ You look like you could use some company “ Clarice, the waitress says but Billy declines. Not because he doesn’t like her, in fact she’s always treated him nicely when im and (Y/N) came around, no he’s just really shit at small talk. And that’s what she’s gonna expect from him.

So she walks off and for a moment he’s left alone with his soggy fries and a U2 song playing over the stereo.

Then the clicking of heels catches his attention and it’s just ridiculous how fast his heart starts to beat when he looks up and is greeted by (Y/N) walking towards him. Like it hasn’t been years since they have last seen each other. Like they haven’t broken up a long time ago. Like their last meeting wasn’t yelling and tears and heartbreak and throwing clothes out of windows.

But it all feels like a lifetimes ago. Like it happened to two completely different people. And all that’s there right now is this immense warmth spreading through his body and consuming him.

“ Hi “ she says and smiles and suddenly the diner isn’t so sad anymore.

She looks so different. Her hair isn’t permed anymore and the lipstick is now red instead of hot pink and she’s wearing gold studs instead of pink hopps but there’s still that shimmer of wonder and passion in her eyes and she’s still smiling like the girl she used to be. She’s a different person now but she’s still everything good in the world. At least to Billy.

“ Hi “

“ Can I sit down ? “

What a question.

“ Of course “

They’re quiet for a moment but there’s a tension building. Like the air before a thunderstorm. Electric.

“ I like the haircut. It suits you, I always told you. “

She had. But the mullet was his thing. The physical rebellion against his dad’s stupid rules and restrictions. Also he looked fucking cool and anyone who says differently is clearly wrong.

“ Thanks. You look — “ Billy knows he’s biased.This girl is part of all his happy memories of the last few years. She could be wearing a paper bag and shave her head and dye her eyebrows green and he’d still think she is gorgeous.

“ — good “

That’s fucking lame, honestly. But his heart is beating way too fast to come up with a proper answer.

“ Clarice called me, thought you looked sad. Like you could use some company “

They just fall back into conversation, like nothing has happened. Like they’re old friends who don’t have a shit ton of baggage. Who don’t have a backstory. Who didn’t love too fast, too hard, too much.

“ … and he’s dying. We know it. He knows it. I just — I feel like I should be sad, you know ? Like I should feel something. But I don’t. I don’t even feel relieved I just feel indifferent “

By the time they get to his father’s condition they’ve shared 3 milkshakes and (Y/N) has finished his piece of pumpkin pie.

“ Does that make me a bad person ? A bad son ? “

When she places her hand on his in comfort, Billy thinks he might die of a heart attack. Also he thinks he’s being fucking ridiculous. What is this ? A stupid John Hughes movie ? Fuck no.

“ Absolutely not ! This man has been making your life a living hell, Billy. You don’t have to be sad about him dying. I mean I get why you’re not happy, he’s still your dad. But you don’t owe him sadness. You don’t “

He hasn’t realized until now but she’s right, he felt like he might be owing Neil a certain kind of reaction. Sadness or pity or a hint of gratitude for — well for what exactly ?

“ He might be your father but he never stepped up to actually do his job as a dad. You’re allowed to feel the way you feel about it. “

Life gets overwhelming for Billy a lot of times. It moves too fast and sometimes he feels like it’s all spinning out of control. Like the world is turning and he’s gonna fall off. And then his breathing gets fast and his heart starts beating and his palms get clammy.

A girl from the youth center, Emma, she feels like that too, she told him. She’s 7 and she’s smart and she’s dealing with a family so much like his own, it breaks his heart. “ But then I think of my sister and my friends and my favorite song and the feeling in my tummy when I ride the teacup ride at the carnival and things don’t seem so bad no more “.

Billy looks up at (Y/N) and thinks of what they’ve been through and kissing her for the first time and them dancing to time after time at the prom he didn’t even want to go to but did anyway and had a good time and about the feeling of holding her in his arms during those magical fall nights. And then things don’t seem so bad no more, indeed.

“ Why did we break up ? “

If he’s being quite honest with himself, he knows why. It’s not one specific reason but an amalgamation of so many things. They just seem so pointless and trivial in the grand scheme of things now that he looks at it all as an adult.

“ Because we sucked “

“ We didn’t “

“ Yeah we kinda did. Billy we were both so caught in our own teenage angst and felt so miserable all the time. We were toxic for each other “.

“ What are you talking about ? You were the only thing in my life that wasn’t toxic. You were the only good thing ! “

“ See ? That’s the problem. We were so dependent on each other. I was waiting for you to fix me and trying to fix you at the same time. That’s not healthy, Billy. “

It’s the truth now that he thinks about it. While they were together, Billy hasn’t really made a move on bettering himself, not really. Yeah he’d calmed down considerably but none of those positive changes he’d ever given himself credit for. It was her that changed him and her he changed for.

And maybe his love wasn’t what made her life better either. Maybe that was all her doing. Maybe it was just growing up.

“ Do you really think we were that bad ? “ he asks and he’s scared of the answer. He doesn’t for one minute think about her regretting their time together.

“ If you’re asking me if I would do it all again, knowing what I know now. Then yes. Because I loved you Billy and when we were good we were spectacular. “

A silence settles upon them again as Billy ponders about their relationship. He’s glad she doesn’t regret giving him a chance. He doesn’t think he could live another day knowing the one person that showed him love in the last decade regrets just that.

“ So I told you why I’m back, why are you back ? “

If there’s one person that hates Hawkins just as much as he doesn, it’s (Y/N). Seeing her back here all grown up and mature, really surprises him.

“ I felt homesick. I know my family isn’t perfect but ya know, distance makes the heart grow fonder and all that shit. “

He might’ve not seen her in years but Billy can still tell she’s lying. Some things never change.

“ That’s bullshit. You hated Hawkins, what changed ? “

(Y/N) cracks a grin because of course he could tell that she wasn’t honest. It’s Billy.

“ I don’t think I hated Hawkins as much as I hated myself in it. It was just easy to blame everything on the town and the people except of taking a look at myself, you know ? “

“ Sure, doesn’t answer the question though “

“ Well, remember after prom when we sat by the quarry and you asked me what I wanted to do after school and I told you I wanted to write a book and you told me you wanted to help kids who are going through what you went through ? “

“ I do “

It was the first night Billy ever told anyone about his plans for the future. He wasn’t really one to spill his guts to people, still isn’t. So this meant a great deal. Especially since he didn’t really believe his plan was ever going to come true anyway. But she had been so honest and vulnerable with him then, it only felt fair to give something back.

“ I have been trying to write this stupid book for years and I just feel blank whenever I start a new idea. So I really started thinking about what it is that I want to write about, what makes me feel. Sad, angry, happy — just anything, really. And it all came back to Hawkins. Hawkins and you “.

Billy doesn’t think he’s the kind of guy people write books about. He’s not special or intriguing or even particularly funny. But this is (Y/N) and she’s always seen him differently.

“ So I came back here, for Thanksgiving. For the red leaves and the cold wind and that short time a year where things seem — lighter”

So it isn’t just his nostalgia clouded imagination that makes that time of year look magical to him, if she feels it to it must mean something. Anything.

“ You were always happier that time of the year and I could never figure out what it was “

“ It’s when I met you “

It’s like a thunderstorm rolling through his body. Lighting strike to the heart. He’s played this scenario over in his head for so many times but never has he thought he was the reason for her happiness. That he made such a difference.

“ I still love you “

That’s the fundamental truth of it all, really. He loves her and he’s never stopped. Not saying it out loud seems like a disservice to both of them.

He’s not become a better man for her, he did that for himself. But the better man he is now, he’s deserving of her love. He’s someone that’s good enough for the woman she is now.

“ Do you think we still stand a chance ? “

She softly takes his hand in hers again, her hands still so much smaller than his and way softer, way warmer.

“ The kids we used to be ? Absolutely not. We can’t go back to that. But the people were are now ? I don’t see why not. I like who you are now. I like that you went out and did what you always wanted to do. That you’re so soft on the inside and loving and that you put so much effort into helping kids. I like that you still show up here when your dad is sick even if you have every reason not to. I could love you now. “

Really that’s enough for him.

“ Can I kiss you “

She nods and leans towards him. And she feels warm and tastes like pie and cigarettes and her.

And suddenly the magic was back, full force. And no winter and no cold and no frost would take it from him this time.

It’s another late fall a year or two later when they sit on a swing set much like the one behind their houses when they were younger and more bitter.

Her hair is still flowing in the wind the way it always did and he cheeks have not lost the subtle blush brought on by the cold.

One gloved hand holds on to the chain of the swing while the other grabs tightly to the book she’s reading from. Aloud and with so much passion and love in her voice, it makes Billy’s heart grow 3 sizes at least.

It’s a special time of the year for a different reason now. All of the year is magic now that they’re together again with no underlying anger no repressed sadness, no misery. Just them.

It’s special now for it’s when she holds the finished product of many sleepless night in her hands. Of tears and frustration and more love and passion and longing that she could ever properly describe.

And Billy, he holds the other special thing in his arms. The one that graced them just a few weeks earlier when the air was still warm. She’s tiny and perfect and she’s all Billy and (Y/N) ever wanted in life. It’s her first fall, her first time on a swing, softly rocking in her father’s arms. Her first spark of magic.

“ … and as they sit on the porch, coated in the golden glow of a setting october sun, all is well and warm in their hearts. For maybe obstacles had to be overcome and mountains had to be climbed in order to end up here. Sometimes people meet at the wrong time in life when things are cold and bitter and filled with a sadness that is too much for two people to contain. But sometimes, and they both know how rare these are, sometimes there’s a right time. A second chance. For people who are meant to be together. They were granted such a chance and so they took it, reaching out and grabbing it and never letting go, ever.

So that october evening, with the red sun setting upon the horizon they were both so very aware that with all odds against them, they still managed to come out just fine in the end. Like boats against the current they managed to reach the shore, not unharmed but alive. Maybe more alive than ever before.

And with the waves it washed away the hurt and the bitterness and all that was left was them and love and magic. “

When she finishes reading she looks up at him with a shy glance. She’s nervous. This is the most vulnerable she’s ever felt. This is years of work and dreams she’s been harboring for a lifetime.

“ Do you like it ? “

“ You wrote a book about us “ Billy says and smiles.

“ No “ (Y/N) replies “ I wrote a book about love, we just happen to have a lot of that in our lives. “

Hawkins Indiana isn’t a spectacular town by all means. It’s small and old and boring. It’s not particularly pretty to look at either with it’s peeling paint and rusty nails and dirty shop windows.

But there’s people here that can change things, that make it worth it. It’s a feeling in the air. A whisper in the wind. A scent that reminds you of childhood memories you thought long forgotten. It’s the smile on her face when she looks at Billy and the sound of his daughter’s heartbeat and the love that surrounds them. Always. He knows it sounds cheesy but there’s no denying that it’s all a little magical.

[angelfiume]

Mouth Like A Sailor Part 1

Hey so I have no idea how to publish a fanfic on tumblr besides just putting it up like this so hopefully this goes well.  I was posting on qoutev but it kept crashing my computer so tumblr it is.

Marlena Curtis May 1965 5 months before    "I hope all of you will take this summer to exercise your minds... You wouldn't want to go into your senior year with a head full of nothing, would you?"  Mr. Mays shouted at the class, he wasn't angry, just obnoxiously loud.  I looked across the room at my brother's best friend, Steve, hoping to have someone to smile with or pass a note too, but he obviously was not interested and instead was tracing the hand of a short girl with bobbed hair.  She was giggling as he made ugly monster claws out of her manicured fingers, it was kind of sweet honestly.  I sighed and leaned back in my chair, looking around the room for anyone else that might be alright with me.  Mr. Mays voice quieted as he saw no one really cared about his speech on polishing the young mind, he resulted to letting us free for the rest of the period.  I rested my head on my arms and decided to spend the class just sleeping instead of awkwardly trying to make conversation with the dry, ginger soc next to me.  She seemed like she wasn't very interested anyways.    The bell rung two minutes in to my daydream, which couldn't have made me happier, I jumped out of my seat and yanked my bag with me out the door.  Finally I could just do jack-shit and paint my nails instead of listening to the same monotone creeps lecture for hours and hours.  I nearly ran down the hallway towards my friends, Sophie and Jean, they were talking fast and smiled big when they saw me running down to see them.    "MARLI, tell your brother you're gonna be at my house tonight baking cookies or some sweet shit, Gene Vincent is gonna be at Sophie's cousin's bar tonight in Oklahoma City!  Her cousin said we can all get in no sweat."  Jean said, she was so excited her heavy eyeliner was creasing from smiling so wide.       

  "Holy shit, Sophie did your cousin really say we can go?  How much money?" I asked with a small twinge in my stomach, the past few months have been pretty tough on my wallet, I really wanted all my money to go into my younger brother's secret college fund.   

 "None baby!  That's a perk of having friends with connections, just pitch in two bucks or so for gas, my daddy is letting me take the Malibu, ain't that exciting?" Sophie cooed, she had this soft voice that could have sounded polite even if she was telling you where it seemed your head was stuck.  She was   rich too, man her family did well.  But she was still my friend, because she didn't care if I lived in a hollowed out coat closet my brother set up for me, she didn't believe in the social class war going on.    

  "I'm in man!  I'll tell Darry I'm going to have a sleepover with ya'll, he won't ask questions, he's too wrapped around the axel with Soda right now."  I grinned at them and listened quietly to the rest of their chatter.  They could get awful excited about something real fast, it was damn cute.     

 We walked out to Jean's boyfriends car, he was a doll, always chauffeuring her and her friends around Tulsa.  Speaking of the devil, Tommy came sprinting down the concrete steps and bear-hugged tiny Jean, making her scream and laugh.  

    "Hello sweetheart, ready to be done with the bullshit for a whole 2 months?" he was another one of those guys that seems to really just shout instead of talk, he nodded to Sophie and I and smiled nicely, "ya'll hangin' or goin' home?" 

   "I can stay a little, we're supposed to be in the City by 9 and we gotta leave at 7 or so.." Sophie chirped    

   "Just straight home for me, thanks, I gotta make an appearance so Darry doesn't get suspicious"  I knew full well that he would expect the worst if I never showed up at home.    I jumped down from Tommy's pick- up and yelled to Jean I would be at her house at 630.  I smoothed out my black corduroy skirt and re-tucked the ratty pink shirt I had owned since 9th grade.  My sneakers crunched down the gravel covering the alley behind my house as I walked towards the backward, where I heard my brother and their friends.  Not even the whole gang was there, but it was still loud as hell.     

          "Hey Marls how was the last day of school?  I  miss anything important?" laughed Two-bit, the rusty haired boy lay lazily on our back steps.      

           "Ha, it was fine, you didn't miss anything important.  Just that Mark guy offered me a whole year supply of marijuana if I would flash the principal at the assembly this morning"  I told him as I took a carton out of my bra and lit a smoke, I giggled a little when I saw him cock an eyebrow.  The nimrod probably thought I went through with it.     

           "So ya did it right?"  Demanded a bored looking Dallas Winston.  He sat next to my twin Soda, who was laughing quietly to himself, he probably knew I was too much of a wimp to leave school one some crazy note like that.   

           "Nah," I took a long drag, "I could get that shit for free by just winking at some of the squares in this town... But anyways, where did Darry go?  He working late or something?"   

           "No, he should be home in ten minutes or so, you gonna bail soon?" Soda asked   

            "Around 6ish I'm going over to Jean's, Sophie and I are gonna spend the night with her."  I told him without much worry, I was used to making up white lies at this point, Soda would likely not even care that I was going into the big city tonight, maybe he'd even think it was tuff I was sneaking off to a high class bar with my socy friends.   

             "Ain't Jean that middle-class broad with the giant jugs?" Dally half-joked, it was almost a long running gag that we had, since he couldn't make a move on me, being three of the gangs' sister, he has always tried his best to get at my friends.    I just rolled my eyes and took another drag of my cigarette, lettings the boys' conversation go this way and that and just listen.  That's kinda been my go-to lately, when my mom and dad died three months ago I lost a lot of my talkative edge.  Shit it's been three months already... I pushed my body lightly off of the side of the house and dragged myself inside.  My room really was just a scraped out coat closet.  I ain't gonna complain too bad about it though, Darry really did make it alright and it wasn't even too small of a closet to begin with.  Hell, if we were able to fit my little mattress and even my record player I bought when I was 11, it can't have been that bad.  My stomach was beginning to feel a little green, I had been smoking like a chimney since I got home, and my room ain't too breezy so that tobacco stench really liked to hang around.   

           "Marlena?" I heard my oldest brother knocking at my door, he opened it and immediately looked a little peeved, "Oh lordy!  Did ya just set a whole carton of marbolos on fire?  It's a goddamn wildfire in here, you keep smoking like this and I'm gonna have to start checking what you buy at the store now, ya dig?"    

           "Yeah, I know.  Hey Darry?"  I said, without the slightest intention of cutting down on my habit, "I'm gonna go to Jean's tonight, Sophie will be there too, that cool?"    "That's fine" he said walking back to the kitchen.  I followed him out and just followed suit, he got a glass of water, I got one too.  We didn't even talk the whole time,  he's kinda been quiet lately too.  When our parents died in that accident everyone took on a different kind of burden, but sometimes I think Darry feels like he took the whole load, and maybe that's why he's so damn stressed. Coming home from the funeral with my brothers felt like I had just taken a few strangers from the graveyard and said "you'll do."  Darry used to be that real fun, hilarious older brother.  We used to go out all the time and just talk about everything.  We would talk about how mom was a little too harsh sometimes on people and that it was pretty funny that dad would just push her buttons when she would get annoyed by the little things.  My youngest brother, Ponyboy, well he just downright terrifies me the way their deaths changed him.  He didn't use to be so dreamy all the time, he always had a big imagination, but this time it's different, he tried to follow mom and dad's souls up to heaven and got stuck somewhere between space and the East Side.  Sodapop though, he seemed to take it the healthiest, he wasn't shy about bawling and howling like an idiot at the funeral.  He had to express how he felt, so he did.  But one thing that did change was the side of him people usually forgot about started to rear its ugly head just a little more every once in a while.  Soda is charming and nice, but he's also reckless and clumsy and he won't look before he just starts running.  I'm not trying to  but my brothers in  a bad light though, I certainly haven't been perfect since the accident either.

             Jean's dad was in the army, and her mom was a nurse, so they got along pretty okay.  She wasn't by any means rich, but she surely never had a shortage of cash by the end of the month.  Her house was just a quick bus ride from my neighborhood, it was two stories, well kept, and all the bathrooms were pink.  I knocked on the door and not even a second later it was the bermuda triangle of "can you answer that?" between her and her parents.  It was her mom who came to the door, she was a real neat lady.  Joan's mom was actually real tough, she had a hard life as a kid and she don't have the easiest job in the world.

    "Hello Marls!  Don't you look like a doll tonight?"  She smiled up at me, I am pretty tall for a girl and I usually tower over most ladies I meet. 

   "Thank-you Mrs. Massey, it's just my school clothes, but I figured it would be alright for tonight, ha," I tried my best to sound like a nice girl, but she was just so damn down to earth I really don't think she'd judge me too harsh.  She let me in and walked me all the way to Jean's room, asking about my brothers and if Pony was proud of himself that he came in 2nd at his last track meet.  It was nice talking to a mom.

      Jean popped up from the floor when I walked in, "You ready to leave soon?  I just gotta find my lipstick and Sophie will be here soon, we're gonna get burgers at Dairy Queen on the way out of  town, my mom gave me food money if any of us need."  she spoke briskly and with a butt-load of excitement. 

   "Yeah I'm all set" I giggled quietly as she threw tubes of makeup to the floor trying to find her token lipstick. She got it and we tumbled down the stairs just as Sophie was pulling up to the house.

[panda-noosh]

Action!{P5}{Lance x YouTuber!Reader}{AU}

   Words: 6,945

   Summary: Being a YouTube guru is hard enough without the added stress of living with Lance McClain, the man who insists on bombarding into every YouTube video you try to film. His viewers love him, and so do you.

  Pairing: Lance McClain x YouTuber!Reader

  Notes: p1 - p2 - p3 - p4 - p6 - p7 ; someone take my laptop away from me this hurt.

   The vlogging camera felt oddly heavy in your hands as you held it above your head for the first time in nearly two weeks. The LA sun shone down on you, illuminating the fresh make up look you had applied for this night in particular – a smokey eye with dark brown lipstick, skin looking smooth and untouched, free of blotches that were hidden beneath a thin layer of foundation.

   It made a difference, you had to admit. Your skin care routine had been abruptly neglected after you had left your apartment, meaning your acne prone skin had started breaking out all over again. It was nice to finally look at yourself and not see an emotional mess.

    “Welcome to the vlog!” is the first thing you say, doing a small twirl at your hotel room window. You can hear Emma giggling in the background, watching you with fond eyes and a bright grin as she applies her fourteenth layer of mascara onto her already-perfect-length eyelashes.

   You grin, looking out at the view of LA. Even though your body felt numb and you wanted nothing more than to take off the tight dress you had pulled on over your body, you could appreciate a good view, and you could appreciate a good day. Today was Emma's day, and you were determined to make it as drama-free as you possibly could.

   “So, everyone, I am back vlogging,” you continue. “And what better way to restart this channel than with a vlog celebrating one of my bestest friends in the entire world finally making her dreams come true!”

  You turn the camera around, pointing it at Emma who now stands up straight, revealing her entire outfit with her make up look finally complete. You have to look at her in awe – she wears a skin-tight, emerald green dress with a matching necklace that you and Samuel had bought for her for her 20th birthday. You had never seen it around her neck before, with her insisting that it was only to be worn on 'special occasions.'

   Her make up was done up perfectly and her hair was styled in it's usual, bouncy do that took so much time to style, and yet Emma always seemed to wear it as if it was no big deal. It was perfect. She looked perfect, and for the first time in five days, you were able to finally smile a genuine smile, a swelling feeling of proudness erupting in the pit of your stomach.

   “You're battery isn't gonna last long if you keep it recording like that,” Emma chuckles, and it is only then that you realise you had frozen in your spot with the camera still rolling.

   You grumble incoherent words and shut the vlogging camera off, hoping that the editing can make the footage look less choppy and messy.

   “I'm a little rusty,” you mumble. “Anyway, you look gorgeous, Emma. You're gonna make a perfect first impression.”

   Emma grins. “I hope so. I've never been so nervous in my entire life.”

   “You have no reason to be nervous. Everybodies gonna love the art work you have to show them, and you're gonna wow the crowd with your amazing personality.”

   “I honestly think it's the necklace.”

  You chuckle, taking the emerald in between your fingers and twirling it slightly. “No. This is all you.” You smile. “When are we meeting the boys?”

    Emma sighs, pulling her phone out of her bag to look at the time. “In about ten minutes, but no doubt Samuel will already be there. He hates showing up late with the wheel chair.”

   “Poor kid.”

   “I'd show a little bit more sympathy if he stopped dragging my ass out of bed ten minutes early just so I can watch him do wheelies in the parking lot.”

    You had never been to a professional art show.

   Museums, the odd opening in your home town but never anything serious. Never anything that consisted of real, authentic art where the artists were walking around like nothing was a big deal. By the time you had walked from one end of the car park to the other, you had seen around 4 world-class artists who were here for the art show opening – the art show opening that your best friend was opening with her own art work.

   You weren't sure why you were feeling nervous. Every emotion within your body had been swelling ten fold the past few days, but this was on a whole other level. You were only an on looker, and yet your hands were clamming up as if you were the one due to be making the speech. Emma didn't look half as nervous as you, her head held high and her shoulders pushed back as she chatted away to the curator like a real business women would.

   You and Shiro walked behind her whilst Samuel was lazily pushed, him too busy fighting with an oversized brochure to bother pushing his own wheelchair.

   “So apparently there's only two disabled ramps in the entire building,” Samuel says as you follow Emma and the curator into the building. “But if my calculations are correct, there's more than two sets of steps in this place. Which means I'm suddenly offended.”

    Shiro rolls his eyes, shaking his head at your friends comments. “We'll find a way to get you up the stairs, mate, don't worry.”

   “I know you will,” Samuel grunts. “I didn't give you an option there, mate. All I'm saying is, there should be more than two wheelchair ramps. It's an insult to me and I've already been through enough today.”

    “That waitress didn't mean to-”

   “She wanted to see if I could feel the fork land in my lap. I know she did, and you cannot persuade me otherwise.”

   Shiro shakes his head again, looking at you with a raised eyebrow as if to ask if Samuel was always like this. You could only shrug in response, not entirely sure how to reply. The man had been one of your closest friends for nearly seven years now, but he hasn't always been such an easily-wound up bloke. Before the accident, he was grinning all the time, did cross-country and boxing and skiied whenever he could.

   After the accident, every little thing bothered him. Every little glance sent his way set him off because he truly believed everybody just saw his wheelchair, and his dead legs and the way he sometimes winced in pain whenever there really was no pain to be feeling.

    You and Emma had stayed by him, though. If there was anybody with a right to feel paranoid about people staring, it was Samuel.

    The museum that the art show is held in is a big one. Halls made of marble with massive stone sculptures of Greek gods sat upright in the middle of it all. Signs were bedazzled with specs of gold that you run your fingers over loosely, admiring how cold the stones feel against your fingertips. Paintings are hung up on walls, special ones covered in a thick box of glass whilst some had simply been hung up by a nail and a frame.

   The building was yet to fill up with people. You had to arrive early with Emma due to her having to go over her lines with the curator, but you could admire the empty scenery whilst it lasted. You weren't entirely sure how you were going to react whenever the place started to fill up with people. Perhaps you would hide in the back. Perhaps you would chatter amongst people, get their opinions on Emma's art work for later reference. You knew feedback would be something she'd appreciate.

   It felt nice, you noticed. Standing in the middle of this massive, spacious, marble room with only the sound of the curators soft voice in the background. It was peaceful. Your mind wasn't working at one hundred miles an hour at the moment, and that was something you could appreciate.

    A hand lands on your arm, startling you. You gasp, spinning around only to be met with the soft eyes of Shiro, who stands behind you with the smile he had been wearing all day still plastered on his features.

   “Sorry. I didn't mean to scare you,” he says, stuffing his hands in his blazer pockets.

   He cleaned up well for somebody who worked part-time in a coffee shop. He wore a baby blue dress shirt underneath a thin, black blazer, the first couple of buttons undone to reveal a hint of what looked like a well-worked chest.

   “It's okay,” you reply. “Is everything okay?”

  Shiro blanks for a moment, opening his mouth to speak before abruptly deciding against it. Instead, he lets his eyes trail off to look over at Emma, who busies herself with the canvas she is currently messing with. Samuel is at the side of her, guiding her through what to do with rough yells of “Are you stupid? To the left!”

    “They get along,” you say. “Samuel's just a bit-”

   “No, I understand,” Shiro assures, turning back to look at you. “I'm having a good time. I'm glad you guys let me tag along.”   “Don't act like you didn't have plans made before we invited you. You've gotten quite popular since high school, so I've heard.”

   Shiro crinkles up his nose, a playful smile playing at his lips as you two are suddenly thrown back to the world of high school which you suffered through together for seven years. You had been far from popular back in your high school days, though you were happy to say that you weren't alone in that aspect. Shiro had his fair share of hard times during high school, and you vaguely remember him being the kid with the book. The kid who was never spotted without a 500 page novel in his hand, slumped against the lockets with it balancing on his knees, engulfed in the story that he was reading.

   He had worn glasses back then and had been bullied for it quite a bit. You remember rushing to your next class, scared of being late, and overhearing the popular kids talk about Shiro like he was a joke for having bad eye sight.

   Shiro was basically the scrawny kid – a large difference to what he was like now. His high school self had brought on awkward smiles and bad haircuts that consisted of choppy bands that barely reached his eyebrows. His eyes were constantly swollen from lack of sleep and his lips were always chewed up from hours upon hours of mindlessly ripping the skin off of them.

   Now he had muscle. Now he wore contacts. Now he was an adult, and it takes this moment for you to realise just how much the two of you had changed and just how much of Shiro's growing process you had actually witnessed in your years of friendship with him.

    “Did you expect things to go this way back whenever we were in high school?” you blurt out before you know why.

   Shiro looks down at you, his smile fading in confusion. “What do you mean?”    You sigh, pulling your hands around yourself. “Like, did you expect me to become a YouTuber? Did you expect me to look this way? Because I certainly didn't expect you to glow up in the way you have done.”

   A blush creeps upon Shiro's cheeks which he fails at covering by itching at his face. “I mean, I knew you would be something big, I guess. Even though you were fairly quiet, I always saw the potential in you, the creativity you had. Maybe it was because I spent my days reading books in the hallway, but I can spot a good brain from a mile away, and you had it. Even if you didn't show it off like you should have.”

   He was right. You had always been the creative type. Not in the way where you could pick up a paintbrush and make wonderful masterpieces like Emma. Not in the way Shiro could write out words like his life revolved around beautiful prose and pulling at heart strings – you had the skill of making things come to life on your own. All you ever needed was a camera, some make up and a good enough video idea and that would be you set for the rest of the week.

   You smile at the thought. The memory of your 10 year old self setting up her first camera and talking to it like it was an old friend.

   That ten year old certainly had no idea she would be where she is now – two million subscribers down the road, living her best life.

   Stood in the middle of a marble room, her heart completely broken with a fake smile pulling at her features.

   You push the intrusive thought out of your head and look back up at Shiro. “I think we've done well for ourselves, Mr Shirogane.”

   Shiro chuckles, reaching an arm out, gesturing for you to loop your own through his. “I think we have done, Miss L/N.”

   “People take these things seriously,” Shiro tells you as the two of you stroll through the slowly-crowding room you had been locked in for the past hour. People were beginning to arrive - people in suits. People who looked like they could retire at the age of 24 and still have money left to put in a will after they died.

    “I can see that,” you mumble, referring to the way people formed such neat little circles around the art work. Back in your home town, whenever an art show was being hosted, all of the art work had to be specially guarded due to the amount of teenagers who made it their lifes goal to put their fingers on them. These people were being respectful, and it was odd to see.

    “Have you ever been into art?” Shiro asks.

   You shake your head almost immediately. “Not really. I never liked Art and Design at school-”

    “I remember.”

   “-but I’ve always appreciated it, I guess. I definitely appreciate it more now that I’m friends with Emma, because I really do love the art work she produces. It’s just - never really been a skill of mine.”

    Shiro purses his lips, nodding as the two of you make your way over to one of the smaller crowds that had gathered around a painting of a sunset. It seemed so generic to you - a painting of a sunset. That was all it seemed to be, but the crowd that were gawking at it seemed to think otherwise, pointing out the tiniest of details and talking about how each blade of grass in the field painted corresponding with the orange glow of the sunset.

    It made you think of Lance. This was the kind of thing he did. He took every little detail of everything and made a deal out of it, nothing forgotten. You couldn’t watch a movie without Lance coming up with fifty different conspiracy theories in the first ten minutes, because everything had a meaning to it when it came to him. Nothing could ever just be as is.

   You bite down on your lip and turn back to Shiro. He’s gazing at the painting with his head tilted, a small frown playing at his lips. You had barely even realised your arm looped through his still, the feeling of his muscular arms pressed against yours becoming so familiar that it died down after a while into nothingness.

    “Do you mind if I vlog this?”

   Shiro doesn’t even hesitate. His eyes don’t leave the painting and his expression of confusion doesn’t waver as he nods at you - such a casual response to something that most people cringed at.

    You stifle through your bag and pull the camera out of your bag. It’s only small, hidden easily by the palm of your hand if you managed to hold it just right, but you still look back ways before pressing record, and even then you keep the device at a low angle and speak to it in a hushed voice.

    “We arrived at the art show, everyone,” you whisper, making Shiro choke on the laugh he is attempting to hold back. “There’s a - uh - sunset in front of me right now, and I’m trying to figure out what the fourth blade of grass on the second row means.”

   Shiro nudges you gently, covering his mouth with his free hand in an attempt to fight off his bubbling giggles. You smile to yourself, darting your eyes around the room once again before looking back down at the camera.

   “I’m with Takashi, by the way. You guys don’t know him, but he’s a good guy.”

   Shiro smiles, waving numbly at the camera and you can’t help but giggle at how awkward he seems in front of the lens. And yet he makes no attempt to cover it like most people do. He simply smiles down at it, his tongue peaking out between his teeth as he plays along with the game of ‘hidden vlogging’ you had suddenly started up out of nowhere.

    In all honesty, the only reason you turned the camera on was to fight back the thoughts which were threatening to break the surface. You were making it your goal for tonight to be a good night. Lance was in the past. You had had your moment of emotional breakdown with that subject, and you needed to move on. Needed to get a fresh start, and restarting up the business you had left behind in your emotional rollercoaster the past five days was the best way to start.

    And so you and Shiro continue to waver through the museum, finally escaping the confines of the large, marble room and broadening your surroundings by going into the different rooms - the less crowded ones. One thing you and Shiro had in common was your lack of social skills.

     Every painting was vlogged, you still keeping your voice down as you spoke into the camera about the most random of topics. Shiro kept his arm wound through yours, playing along with the game, keeping his own voice down on the rare occassion he actually spoke up.

    You two played a game of Eye Spy before being told off by a curator for holding up the guests who actually wanted to gaze at the art. Shiro had patted the mans chest before you two ended up sprinting away from the scene as if you had just been caught for a crime you had commited.

     You weren’t entirely sure why you were having a good time. The museum was quiet bar the soft murmerings of the on-lookers and the soft sound of music trickling quietly through the overhead speakers. You should have been acting mature, and if you felt any other way, you probably would have done so. But you felt numb. You had felt numb, meaning the idea of getting told off wasn’t that big of a deal to you at this moment.

     By the time 7:00pm struck, you and Shiro were laughing as you stumbled out of yet another overcrowded room and into the hallways which conjoined said rooms. Shiro had looped his arm around your waist, leaning against you as he caught his breath from the laughing you two had not paused for the past ten minutes. Everything was suddenly funny. Everything was suddenly a distraction, and if there was one thing you learned from living with Lance McClain for three years, it was that distractions had to be humorour or else they weren’t doing their job right.

    “God, we really are gonna get kicked out,” Shiro chuckles, pressing his forehead against your cheek.

    You shake your head stiffly, hiccuping back to reality. “I nearly knocked over the damn sculpture of Julius Caesar.”

   Shiro chokes, immediately being thrown back into a fit of laughter. You watch him as he pulls his head back as he laughs - a move Lance used to do.

    No, Y/N. Not now.

    You search for another distraction, soft giggles escaping your lips as you feel your disguise of happiness slowly melting off of you as the night draws on and the distractions become scarcer and the reminders of Lance become more and more prominent around you.

     “I don’t think the sculpture was of Julias Caesar, Y/N,” Shiro continues. “I think it was your bloke from the underworld - Hade’s? Hates?”

    “Heather. Big Heather from the underworld,” you say. Shiro laughs louder this time, wiping at his eyes.

    “I’ve never remembered you being so hyper before, Y/N,” Shiro says. “See, life isn’t all that bad. I knew you could have a good time.”

    You force a smile on your face, nodding at him slowly because it was better for him to believe that than to think otherwise. The last thing you wanted was for him to look at you and see that you were only keeping up this humourous act for your friends benefits - you had sworn to them that tonight would be a good night. A night to forget about troubles. A night to forget about the past five days. You didn’t travel all the way to LA to mope around and make everybody else upset with your own sadness.

     “We should probably get to the next room,” Shiro says after a moment of calming himself down. “What time does Emma’s exhibit start?”

    “8,” you reply.

    “Plenty of time to look around a bit more. Maybe we can get something to eat at the food court?”

    You nod, but you don’t move. Shiro takes a step forward, clearly expecting for him to follow you, but something catches your eye. You aren’t entirely sure what it is - it was merely a whisp of colour in your peripheral vision, darting past the marble barriers holding up the ceiling, but it was something that peaked your interest more than you could ignore.

   Shiro reaches behind him and tugs at your hand. “Hey. Everything okay?”

    You swallow thickly. “Yeah. Everything’s fine. I just need the rest room, I think. I’ll meet you at the food counter, yeah?”

    Shiro seems unconvinced, and for a moment you’re almost certain he’s going to ask to accompany you to the rest room. But after a moment, he gives you a light smile, nods and walks off.

    Immediately you whirl around, silently cursing yourself for getting trapped inside your own brain again. You assured yourself over and over again that it was normal for somebody to feel curiosity, that it was normal for somebody to be reminded of somebody they missed shortly after losing said person. But you knew, deep down, that you were just being paranoid. You knew that all the things you wanted to say to Lance were whirling around in your brain for a reason, and no amount of distractions and laughter and buddy buddy friendships would get rid of them.

    You march down the marble hallways in the direction of the streak of colour you had seen. Because why not? Because if not now, then when?

    Your heels click against the floor and sound out in echoes as the crowd slowly disappears the longer you walk. Your eyes dart through everyone, but they don’t need to linger for very long. These people were very different from the person you were looking for. These people held their heads high and they walked with such grace with frowns tugging at their lips as they inspected the art work which surrounded them.

    You were looking for the bouncy, bubbly guy with the wide grin and loud voice.

    You take a sharp turn whenever you’re finally on your own. The crowd had completely disappeared, leaving only you to wade through the halls on your own. You weren’t even sure if you were allowed this far into the museum without permission, but you didn’t stop yourself.

    You took the turn and immediately came to a stop. As did everything else in the world, it seemed, because standing before you was exactly who you craved to see, but at the same time wanted to avoid at all costs.

    You finally realise exactly what you had just done - you had just followed this man down these halls even though he had ripped your heart from your chest only days prior. You had trailed after him like a lost puppy, made yourself look more like a joke than the interview he had done did.

    But you can’t move, because the questions and the anger and the confusion are bubbling at your system as you look at him now. Wearing a tight, black blazer, head ducked down, forearm resting on the wall in front of him as he takes deep breaths, back facing you.

    He hasn’t seen you yet. You could easily walk away and leave him, don’t let him know that you had seen him at all, but your feet are rooted to the floor. Perhaps it’s the three years worth of memories that keep you there, looking at him in his very clearly distressed state. Perhaps it was the instinct to help him that you couldn’t exactly get rid of in the space of three days.

    Whatever it was, it was activating now, because even though he had hurt you and even though you were furious with him, you couldn’t help but feel a tiny tinge in your gut at the sight of him now. Leaning his head against his forearm, clearly trying to catch his breath, perhaps willing himself not to cry. What he had to cry over, you were unsure about.

    You take a step forward, your heel echoing off of the floor. Lance immediately stiffens up, his head snapping up before he whirls around.

    His face falls, his shoulders going limp and his hands falling to his sides. He looked pale. He looked sick. His usually vibrant, tanned skin had been dulled to a pale ivory now, and the bags under his eyes were deep, purple rings that made no effort of making themselves subtle.

    He swayed slightly on his feet and you were almost certain he would fall over at any given moment. Whether it be from shock or the sleep deprivation he was very clearly suffering from, you had no idea.

    Neither of you speak for a number of seconds. You simply stare at each other, your hand clutching the material of your dress as if it was the last thing you would possibly hold onto. His eyes beam into yours, him never being one to shy away from eye contact.

    And then he speaks, and the sound of his voice is so excrutiatingly painful that you nearly double over at the sound of it. He doesn’t sound like himself.

    “Y/N.” It’s only your name. A simple word that used to come so naturally between the two of you suddenly sounds like poison, like he’s spitting acid at you instead of speaking.

    His voice cracks. He sounds like he hasn’t used his voice in weeks.

    You swallow thickly and nod. “L-Lance.”

    He purses his lips, his own eyes fluttering closed as you speak. He sways on his feet once again, even stumbling a little as he does so. You step forward, ready to grab him but he raises his hands, stopping you.

    You don’t understand why you stepped forward. You were meant to hate him. You were going to hate him. You had to. You had to stop having such a soft spot for him. You thought you were making progress. You thought you were-

    “What are you doing here?” you finally ask.

    Lance opens his eyes and lazily smiles. “I came here with the ticket Emma gave me. Thought I would - uh - support a friend.”

    “She’s not your friend.”

    Lance shrugs, your words skimming right over his head. “But it seems like somebody else took my space in the little group. Which sucks, to be honest. I thought I was quite unreplaceable.”

    He’s slurring his words. Is he drunk?

    You raise your brow, your gut telling you to move. To turn and leave him stranded here, leave him to deal with his own mess that he caused, but you continue to stare at him.

    You want to say it has nothing to do with emotional attachment, that it’s just morals that are keeping you standing here. He’s clearly in no shape to get himself home, to be on his own. You may be hurting, but you’re a nice enough person to not leave somebody in need behind because of your own reasons.

    At least, that’s what you assure yourself.

    “How much have you drunk since you got here?” you ask. “The bar wasn’t free for guests as far as I know. I hope you left yourself money for the taxi.”

    “Harsh,” Lance mumbles, rubbing the back of his neck. “You know what else is harsh? You flirting with Mr Tall Guy right in front of my face.”

    Your breathing hitches. Anger spirals through you. You regret not walking away. You regret having started this conversation. You regret having followed him at all because you know that this conversation will bring nothing but pain for you that you will have to heal from all over again.

    “I get it, you know,” Lance continues. He sways on his feet, catches himself on the wall. “I shouldn’t have come. I’m a piece of shit. But at least I’m not walking around flaunting my new relationship five days after I broke it off with somebody else. That’s just cold.”

    “Are you being serious right now?” you seethe. “Lance, answer my question. How much did you have to drink?”

    “Not enough, clearly,” Lance grumbles. “I’m still not blacked out. But maybe I did drink enough - I persuaded myself to actually come here. That must have taken plenty of alcohol.”

    You grit your teeth, running your hands through your hair, ignoring the fact that it had taken nearly an hour to do. “I think you should go.”

    “What? No!” he exclaims, and the volume of his voice takes you by surprise. He tries to move, tries to make his way towards you but his feet stumble and he has to crumble against the wall again to stop himself from falling over completely. “Y/N, no. Let me - I didn’t mean it. I know you wouldn’t date Shiro. You two barely know each other, and you wouldn’t do that to me. You wouldn’t - We love each other, right?”

    Your heart aches. It feels like it’s being ripped out of your body through your rib cage, and there’s nothing that can stop it now. You want to reply with a snarky comment, but seeing him go from frustrated to desperate so quickly makes you shudder and no words come out.

   All you can do is watch him as he clambers against the wall, trying to make his way towards you but his feet aren’t doing him any favours and you’re almost certain he will fall if he detaches himself from the grip he has on the wall.

    “Say you do,” Lance continues, his voice taking on the edge of a plea by now. “I know I fucked up. I - I fucked up really badly and I destroyed what we had, but please tell me I meant enough to you that you haven’t thrown me away in the space of - how many days has it been? Five?”

    You shake your head, biting your lip to fight back tears. Not today, Y/N. You promised.

    “I just need you to get yourself home, Lance,” you choke out. “Or else you’ll end up getting kicked out and arrested for public intoxication.”

    “You take me home,” Lance says. “I haven’t - I got an Uber here, but we can - we can walk. I don’t know where my hotel is, but-”

    “I’m not leaving with you,” you say and you feel yourself physically break at the sight of his face falling. His swollen cheeks have turned red and bright, his nose rosy and his soft brown eyes flooding with unshed tears that you persuade yourself only the alcohol can induce upon him.

    He’s too drunk to know what he’s saying. He won’t remember any of this in the morning.

     “But why? We live together,” Lance slurs. “Not right now, obviously, but we still share an apartment, and you still have a home with me, right? Because - Because I don’t have a home if you’re not there with me. You know that, right? Tell me you know that.”

    “Lance, please don’t make me call security to get you out of here. I don’t want this to be bigger than it needs to be.”

    “If you didn’t still like me - love me - you wouldn’t even be here right now. I’m surprised you haven’t pushed me down a flight of stairs yet.”

    “You’ll end up falling down the stairs if you don’t get yourself home,” you hiss. “Now please-”

     “But I miss you,” Lance says, and his voice comes out as a whine, a desperate plea for you to just listen to him. “Keep this between us, but the only real reason I actually showed up to this bore-fest is because I knew you’d be here with the others. I needed to see you.”

    You shake your head again. His words have an impact. They slam into your chest, winding you but he’s drunk, and you have to keep reminding yourself of that fact. You have to keep your head out of the gutter and keep yourself strong, because he means nothing he is saying and he will remember nothing at the end of the night.

     “Please, Lance,” you say, voice barely above a whisper. “Just get yourself home safely, alright? There’s - There’s nothing more for us. Nothing we can make out of what we had. Not now. The best thing for both of us to do is to just forget about one another.”

    Lance gurgles, slumping forward. “You don’t mean that.”

    You turn on your heel, using up all of your strength and everything in you to just get away from here. Leave on a decent note. You don’t need to yell at a drunken man - you don’t even need to associate yourself with him any further. Just go. Leave him.

     “Y/N, don’t walk away. What are you doing?” Lance cries and you flinch at the volume of his voice but continue to walk. “Y/N L/N, get back here! Please! I miss you! I - I love you, for crying out loud! Y/N, are you listening? Can you even hear me? Y/N!”

    He’s too drunk to run after you, and you’re too numb to turn back and look at him.

    You reach up to your cheeks, expecting to wipe away tears, but all you feel is the dry foundation on your face.

    You chuckle light heartedly, wrapping a loose arm around Emma’s shoulders as the two of you finally escape into the confines of the night.

    The only light that illuminates the bright smile shining off of Emma’s face right now is the street lights that shine down on her like the spot light she deserves.

    “You absolutely killed it!” Shiro cheers, wheeling Samuel, who had fallen asleep, down the disabled ramp of the museum. “God, they were all absolutely in love with you, Emma!”

    Emma smiles brightly, wiping at her tired eyes. “It was fun. Easier than I thought.”

    “You always had a way with words when it came to your art work,” you say, patting her arm and giving her a soft smile. You were proud of her. She had done her first night as an art show host and had absolutely blown everybody away with the art work she showed off. She had introduced a few world-famous paintings, but the paintings which stole the show were definitely her originals, which people pushed to get good views of.

     Even after the events of the night, you found yourself feeling genuinely proud of her.

     The side walk is crowded with people emerging from the art show, getting ready to go home after a long night of enjoying themselves, drinking fancy champagne and examining art. You smile at the odd person, arm still wrapped around Emma’s shoulders-

    Until Shiro’s own arm winds around your waist, taking you by mild surprise. You hadn’t realised you were standing still on the sidewalk until you were being pulled out of Emma’s grip. Emma looked at you for a moment, smirked before she waded off to be next to Samuel who was slowly waking himself up due to the sudden burst of noise that the outdoors brought upon him.

    “Did you enjoy yourself tonight?” Shiro asks once Emma is leaning safely against the wall of the museum, shooting glances up at you and Shiro before she is swarmed by a group of boys who want to ask her about her art work.

    You raise a brow, pointing your eyes down at the hand he has wound around your waist. “I had a pretty decent time. What about you?”

    “I loved it,” he replied. You can’t help but notice the slight gravel to his voice, a tinge to his tone that is either the work of lust, too much alcohol, or exhaustion. “I just wanted to thank you for being a good date.”

    You splutter, eyes popping open. “Date?”

    Shiro shrugs loosely. “I mean, the term is used loosely, of course. We’re just friends, but you kept me company in there. I don’t know how much of Samuel’s blabbering I can take, and Emma was far too busy with the art to actually talk to me. You made an effort.”

    You blink hastily. “Right. Well, it was my pleasure, I guess.”

    He nods. “What about that vlog you filmed? When will that be up?”

    “Some time tomorrow, I’m hoping! I’m kind of filled with nervous energy at the moment, so I don’t see myself sleeping much.” Also known as, I have no idea if Lance got home safely and I hate myself for worrying so much but I can’t help it.

    “Well, I’m excited to make my Y/N L/N Vlogs debut,” Shiro jokes, jostling your arm slightly. You rock against him, still taken slightly off guard by the way he loosely used the term ‘date’ as if it meant nothing.

     Maybe it did mean nothing. Maybe you were just overthinking.

    It’s Samuel’s voice, groggy and tired, that snaps you out of your daze. “Oh for the love of all that is holy, what is he doing here?”

    Your eyes snap up, following Samuel’s gaze across the busy LA street you’re standing at. Almost immediately your stomach does knots, a sick feeling rising in your stomach as you see him - he had listened to you. He had left the museum, but he certainly hadn’t headed home.

    He was stumbling around the corner, singing a song that you two used to sing together all the time as you cooked dinner - a Spanish song which you never understood the lyrics to, but you had heard it enough to know every single word.

    “My God, he’s hammered,” Shiro breathes.

    Lance stumbles around the corner, swinging his arms above his head before his eyes meet yours. You barely register it for a moment, the glare off of the street lamps making him seem a little more sober than he must have been. But one thing was for sure - as soon as his eyes met yours, his entire demeanour changed and suddenly, he looked angry.

    You couldn’t be too sure, of course. It was very rare you actually saw Lance angry, but judging by the scowl which suddenly scattered his feautres and the way his gaze clamped down on Shiro’s hand which was wound around your waist, he was pissed.

    You’re quick to step out of Shiro’s gaze, panic sweeping you. The streets were busy. Cars were zooming past at an unforgiving speed, and Lance was drunk and angry and on the other side of the road.

    Nobody else sees it coming. Nobody but you. You step forward, wanting nothing more than to rush across the road and push him back from the curb, but nobody stops. No cars stop. Some drivers are even driving past on their cell phones at a speed which could knock down the side of a building.

     But Lance doesn’t register that, and you see his eyes flicker the moment he yells out, “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” to Shiro. Shiro’s eyes widen as you rush forward, shaking your hands in front of your body.

    “Lance, don’t! Stay right there! Don’t even think of moving or-”

    But your words don’t mean anything. Not right now. Not when Lance is blinded in a mad hot rage, consumed and fuelled by alcohol. You watch on in horror, a cry escaping your mouth as Lance steps off the curb, ready to fly head on at Shiro -

    He doesn’t get that far. Not before a car has slammed into his side, knocking him to the left, blood spurting out of his nose before he’s even hit the concrete. You hear Emma yelling out for help, and you’re certain you hear yourself wailing but everything sounds dull, as if it’s being sounded through water.

    Lance lands on the road with a thump, completely unconscious by the time he even hits the tarmac.

[dragonbagel]

everything is not what it seems

part one: it’s gonna take some time to realize

new rhack fic woo! angsty af. inspired by @bird--butt ‘s ideas.

summary: rhys and jack are kidnapped while doing work on pandora by some weird aliens. real x-files type of shit. but at least they're together, right?

Rhys groaned as the room around him slowly came into view, pale blues and oranges still harsh to his bleary eyes. "Where am I?" he asked groggily, rubbing at his sore jaw. "I think you mean 'where are we’, right pumpkin?" "Jack?" Rhys asked, his relieved jerk of the head sending a jolt of pain down his spine. He tried to massage his neck with his left arm, but his movements felt sloppy and uncoordinated. "Take it easy, kiddo," Jack said, giving Rhys a sympathetic smile. He was laying awkwardly on the floor, his limbs randomly splayed out. Rhys was too, he now realized, the soft feeling of carpet slowly registered against his numb skin. "They knocked us out real good."

"Who?" Rhys squinted, trying to make sense of the strange patterns he could now see swirling across the ceiling. "You don't remember?" Jack chuckled, and Rhys shot him a look. "We were on Pandora looking for Eridian tech, and this giant ship came out of nowhere. Shit was straight out of Star Wars! They tried to capture us, I protected you like a hero, then they brought out a big-ass gun, blah blah blah, and here we are." "Oh." That didn't sound quite right to Rhys, but what did he know? He could barely remember what he'd eaten for breakfast, much less what had happened before being drugged and kidnapped. Besides, an alien abduction (which, now that he thought about it, sounded way too lame for the gravity of the situation) wouldn’t be the weirdest thing to have happened to him. "So what do we do now?" Jack stared at Rhys like he'd just asked what number came after two. "We wait." "We wait?" Rhys repeated, dumbfounded. Jack had been kidnapped a horrifically anxiety-inducing amount of times, so surely he had some sort of tried-and-true escape plan that would get them out of there. "That's-- that's it?" Jack nodded. "Gotta figure out what they want. Plus," he said, grunting as he slowly pushed himself to stand. "They've got this whole sweet-ass setup going on here." Rhys to clumsily stumbled to his feet to his feet after him, finding that Jack was not wrong in any capacity. The room was fairly large, complete with a miniature kitchen, television, and small bathroom. It also had two beds, which made Rhys roll his eyes; were gay aliens not a thing? "I guess it is sort of like a free vacation," Rhys said, offering Jack a smile and a shrug. He wasn't about to go freak out and look like a wimp in front of his boyfriend (and hero). "Hope they've got the Spanish channel," Jack said, already moving to grab the remote. "I don't have time to catch up on my telenovelas again." Rhys laughed, reassuring himself yet again that things were going to be okay. Jack was here. Jack knew what to do. He might as well go along and enjoy himself. His legs still felt jelly-like, so he sank onto the bed closest to him (he didn't flop like a fish, nobody had proof he flopped like a fish). The blankets felt strange yet soft, and he let his eyes slide closed. He didn’t realize he’d fallen asleep until Jack called his name, gesturing excitedly to the television he’d managed to turn on.

“Look! They have ‘Tres Veces Ana’!”

“That’s nice, Jack,” Rhys grumbled, rolling over onto his side. Rhys’ only Spanish knowledge was the colorful vocab he’d picked up from Jack’s dirty talk, and he had no shortage of requests to “please watch a normal English show on Netflix for once instead of Univision I’m begging you.”

“It is,” Jack agreed, plopping down onto the other tiny bed. His eyes were trained on the TV in front of him, but they’d flick over to Rhys every so often.

Rhys didn’t know what to make of it. How the hell was Jack so calm about all this? He’d been nabbed a few times himself, but never kept in anywhere other than a rusty cage or disgusting bandit stronghold. This place was like a goddamn hotel suite, the kind with fancy room service and everything. The whole situation was putting him on edge, and he desperately wanted Jack to do something, anything , to get them out of this mess.

But Rhys was afraid to interrupt the cries of “¡mi hermana!” and “¡traidora!”, afraid to admit to Jack that he was scared and weak and all the other insecurities he kept bottled up and buried deep, deep within himself.

Instead, he opted for a distraction he knew Jack couldn’t refuse. “Is there any food in this place or what?”

Predictable as ever, Jack bounced off the bed and into the kitchen, opening and closing various cupboards in search of sustenance. “Holy shit, pumpkin! You’re never gonna believe this!”

Rhys sat up in excitement, limbs now more under his control as he looked happily at what was probably either ice cream or pizza or maybe even both.

It was ramen.

“You’re fucking kidding me,” Rhys groaned, recognizing the bright red packaging that had haunted his nightmares since college.

“Isn’t it great?” Jack laughed, tossing the package to Rhys and hitting him in the chest.

Rhys glowered. The stupid noodles even had the audacity to be shrimp-flavored, which was a whole new level of disgusting. “No, it most definitely is not great.”

That only made Jack laugh harder, since watching Rhys suffer was one of his favorite pastimes. Seriously, that stupid look he got on his face when he tried to look intimidating was comedy gold.

Rhys really was hungry, however, so he finally relented and made the ramen (or, more specifically, made Jack make the ramen). As he slurped down the cringe-worthy meal, he noticed Jack wasn’t eating anything. Which was weird, because Jack was always eating something, even when he was in the middle of killing someone for spilling their coffee on him.

“Aren’t you hungry?” Rhys asked around a mouthful of noodles.

Jack shook his head. “Nah, I ate before these assholes pulled an X-Files move on us.”

Rhys shrugged, although he didn’t really buy the excuse. Maybe Jack was more shaken up than he was letting on.

“Alright, well, you can go back to watching your stupid Spanish shows now. I’m going to sleep.”

Jack rolled his eyes. “Suit yourself, old man.”

Rhys fell back into unconsciousness with the sound of a car crash echoing in his ears.

Stupid fucking telenovelas.

Rhys awoke an indeterminate amount of time later in hopes that the whole ordeal with the ramen and the Spanish channel and, oh yeah, the fucking aliens had been nothing more than a freaky alcohol-induced nightmare. But when he saw the weird pastel color scheme and smooth, doorless walls, he knew this wasn’t over just yet.

He forced himself to sit up, finding Jack dozing in the other bed. He rolled his eyes, then started to boot up his ECHOeye; just because Jack didn’t want to be proactive didn’t mean Rhys couldn’t be. Of course, it was just his luck that the damn thing wasn’t working. He could turn it on, but a scrambled signal burst through his brain like the physical embodiment of loud static and he had to quickly shut it down. His cybernetic arm was just as useless. It still functioned as a regular arm, but none of its capabilities seemed to work beyond that. Which meant no hacking, no calling for help, and no new information. He was back to square one again.

Investigating the room seemed like the next best idea, especially now that the drugs he’d been doped with had mostly worn off. He liked to watch old prison escape movies, okay? It wasn’t the worst hobby one could have (Exhibit A being either Jack’s Univision addiction or Vaughn’s illogical love of going to the gym).

The kitchen was stocked with nothing but ramen and some cans of Diet Pepsi, yet another abomination spitting in the face of god. Couldn’t they at least get some actual food? He’d even settle for a simple cup of coffee, as he could feel a caffeine headache settling in. Rummaging through the few drawers didn’t yield any nail files, scissors, or even spoons that could be used to orchestrate some sort of grand escape.

Sighing and rubbing his temples, he moved on to check out the bathroom. It was literally just that: A toilet and matching sink that looked like they came out of a mid-20th century public school. There wasn’t even a shower; Rhys shuddered at what his hair was going to look like by just the second day. Was it already the second day? The overhead lights hadn’t dimmed since he’d first woken up, and without his ECHOeye or a wall clock to reference, any concept of time was thrown out the window alongside his regimented beauty routine.

He couldn’t find anything else in the room aside from the beds (which were bolted to the floor) and the TV. He supposed the TV would at least keep him from dying from boredom, but he’d lose his mind if he had to watch trashy soap operas in a language he didn’t understand all day. He also didn’t know where the remote was, and he doubted Jack would actually tell him. That would definitely be an argument for later.

Restless, he took to pacing around the small room, counting how many steps it took to go from one end to the other (25) and if he could touch the ceiling if he stood on the bed (the answer was yes). He watched Jack sleep for awhile, a behavior that he didn’t know whether to categorize as creepy or endearing. His mask was on, the synthetic skin slightly lighter than his naturally bronze body; it made him look peaceful, a look which rarely graced his features in consciousness.

It was calming, really, listening to Jack sleep. He was laying on his back, arms at his sides like a corpse, chest slowly rising as he breathed.

Rhys blinked, suddenly snapped out of his pleasant daze. There was a reason he didn’t watch Jack sleep: He snored like a freaking chainsaw, which was the very opposite of calming.

Had the aliens put some sort of miracle in the drugs they’d used to snatch them? If that was the case, Rhys desperately wanted to get his hands on it, willing to pay virtually anything for a bottle so that he didn’t have to sleep with heavy duty earplugs every night. More desperately, however, Rhys wanted to know what the hell was going on. This wasn’t normal. None of it was normal. He needed to talk to Jack, to come up with a plan together.

He gently shook Jack’s shoulder in an attempt to rouse him, the gray jacket the captors had forced both of them to wear feeling strange under his touch. Jack nudged his hand away as he opened his eyes with a groan, fixing Rhys with a tired look.

“I was sleeping,” he said flatly.

“Yeah, uh, I know,” Rhys said, his tone nervous. “It was just, y’know, too quiet, and I, well, I wanted to talk to you.”

“Quiet?” Jack repeated, pointing towards the still-running TV.

Rhys shook his head. “You weren’t snoring, and it was weird, and this whole thing is freaking me out and--”

“Alright, alright,” Jack said, holding up his hands in defeat. “Let’s talk, cupcake.”

Rhys sighed in relief, sinking down to sit next to Jack on the bed. “What are we supposed to do?”

“We’re waiting,” Jack said. “I told you that before.”

“But why?” Rhys said with a frown. “Don’t you want to get out of here?”

“I told you, we’re waiting!” Jack hissed, glaring as Rhys flinched. “Can’t you just listen to me for once?”

Rhys bit his lip, not wanting to dig his own grave after pissing off a clearly tired Jack.

“Come on, kitten. Let’s get some rest.”

Rhys sighed and obliged, crawling back over to the other bed as his mind reeled. He was confused, and angry, and hungry, and yeah, he was also feeling pretty hurt. But he couldn’t vocalize any of it, not now. And he definitely couldn’t “get some rest” after what had just happened. So he simply watched Jack lay on his back, not really having moved from before, as he the other man slipped back to sleep.

This time, Jack began to snore.