#i start a real life adult paying job in less than ten hours and that shit haunts me so bad man

[taurgo]

What Remains of Edith Finch is a transformative work, and by transformative I mean since playing the game however many years ago It's impossible for me to not think about Lewis's story anytime I think too hard about working for the next rest of my life

[mjolnir-steve]

Foolish

Frank Adler x fem!Reader

Word count: 5027 (oop)

Warnings: light drinking, very brief mention of suicide, some cursing, smut (18+ ONLY!!!), unprotected sex (m/f) ... Please let me know if I missed anything!

A/N: Hi, y’all! Here’s my entry for @stargazingfangirl18 and @navybrat817’s Shameless Hoes for Chris Challenge!!!! I haven’t written smut in a LONG time, so please be gentle with me LOL. Here’s what I got:

Frank Adler

“I didn’t like the way he was looking at you.”

Breeding / mutual pining 🥴

I’d like to dedicate this to @rodrikstark for always sharing the Frank Adler feels and @sparkledfirecracker for bullying me (with love) into finishing this. ❤️

If you like this fic, please comment and reblog!!! I hope you enjoy. :)

Fridays never seemed to come soon enough. You looked forward to the beginning of the weekend as much as the next person, but over the last few months, Friday nights took on new meaning for you. You moved to the trailer park a little less than a year ago, wanting to buy a small place of your own and start making a home for yourself. It wasn’t perfect, but it wasn’t expensive, and it was only a ten-minute drive from your office where you’d just secured a promotion. Roberta, the manager, helped you make it feel like home right away, insisting on going with you to pick out paint samples and providing copies of menus for the best take-out in the area.

Before long, Roberta introduced you to the trailer park’s resident certified genius, Mary Adler. Mary and Roberta spent Saturday mornings with you when you were free, which unfortunately, was pretty much all the time. You played games, sang karaoke, and even let Mary’s one-eyed cat Fred come over. He took a liking to your swinging chair in the living room, and if Mary couldn’t find him at home, odds were he somehow squeezed through your window and ended up in that chair. 

Another two months had passed, though, before you met Mary’s uncle and guardian, Frank. You came to learn that Mary stayed with Roberta every Friday night because “Frank needs time to be an adult” and she was not allowed to come back to the house until noon on Saturdays. This information made you feel like Frank must be some kind of sad, perpetual fuckboy. You were right about the sad part, not so much about the latter. One morning while Mary played with your watercolors, Roberta let slip - ironically over a cup of tea - that Frank did have the occasional hookup, but usually, he drank himself sleepy on Friday nights and just needed the time to himself. He worked himself to the bone as a boat mechanic, often late into the night because it was too hot to do some jobs during the day. Frank took Mary in when she was just a baby after his sister, her mother, tragically committed suicide. He spent the majority of his scarce free time with Mary, so when Mary was still a toddler, Roberta offered the Friday night deal. Frank countered that he would do any repairs in the trailer park for free, but she refused to let him do that work without pay, saying he deserved to have a life, too. 

She also informed you that Frank was a former philosophy professor, single, and very attractive, especially if you were into the rugged thing. You rolled your eyes with an amused exhale and took another sip of your tea. You’d be lying if you said your interest wasn’t piqued. Mary then shouted over her shoulder, confirming that she’d been listening to your entire conversation, “Frank is great, but he’s a grump. Good luck cracking that egg.” You snorted, nearly spitting out your tea, and she went back to reading your color theory book to Fred.

With that, you heard a sharp rap at the door. You set your tea down on the kitchen table, curious who your visitor might be. You didn’t know anyone else in the trailer park, or in town, really. You opened the door, taking in the sight of possibly - no, definitely - the most handsome man you’d ever seen. You quickly guessed it was Frank, judging by the grease smeared on his quite large hands. His eyes, though tired, had the same bright look as Mary’s, and he had the most perfectly imperfect fluffy hair and overgrown stubble.

“Good morning,” he said with a sweet, closed-mouthed smile. “Is Mary here?”

You had to remind yourself to breathe. Stammering, you opened the door wider, gesturing inside. “Hi, y-yes. She is!” Why am I like this? “She’s just painting with Fred. Please, come in.” You moved aside so he could fit his broad shoulders through the doorframe and then held out your hand. “You must be Frank. I’m Y/N. Mary is just wonderful.” You smiled at him, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks.

He took your hand in both of his, gentler than you’d expected. “I’m sorry. Yes, I’m Frank. It’s great to meet you, finally.” He smiled wide for the first time and you were certain you’d pass out. Who LOOKS like this? “And thank you, she really is wonderful. I couldn’t do it without Roberta. She’s family.” He smiled and waved at Roberta, who was looking at you over the lip of her mug.

Mary didn’t even bother to turn around and face Frank. “What are you doing here, Frank? It’s only 11. I have a whole ‘nother hour with my friends.” You tried to keep your laugh quiet, covering your mouth with your hand and shaking your head.

“Well, excuse me for thinking you might like to go out on the boat with me this morning. I guess I’ll go by myself.”

Mary jumped up from the floor, scrambling to clean up your paints and books. “Can Y/N and Roberta come?”

Frank crouched down to meet Mary’s eyes. “Of course they can, if they’d like.” He looked back at you over his shoulder, trying to gauge your interest, then turning back to his niece. “But do you remember what I told you?”

You could see that Mary was making a conscious effort not to roll her eyes. “You told me that my adult friends have adult lives that include adult responsibilities, and they might not always be available to spend time with me.”

“And?” he looked at her expectantly.

“And I need to invite them to do things without assuming they will do them.” She couldn’t hold back her eye roll any longer, but she made sure not to let Frank see. “Roberta, Y/N, would you both like to join us on the boat today?”

You were amazed by the exchange taking place in front of you, able to see where some of Mary’s brains and tenacity came from. The conversation between the two flowed so easily, playful yet intelligent. It was clear that Frank treated Mary not as a child, but as a person, and you chided yourself internally for thinking that was kinda hot. 

Shaking yourself out of your mildly inappropriate thoughts, you responded. “I’d love to come, Mary.” You smiled at her, bending over to help her pick up the last of the paints from the floor. “Roberta?”

Roberta gave you a look and you just knew she planned this somehow. “I actually do have some of those adult responsibilities to handle today, but thank you for inviting me.” You sent a glare in her direction, quick but no less scathing. “Maybe next time.” She winked at you before washing out her mug and saying her goodbyes.

You spent the whole rest of the day and night with Frank and Mary, doing everything from building sandcastles to cooking dinner together. Mary eventually fell asleep in your lap as you were watching Oliver & Company, Frank’s favorite Disney film that had become Mary’s, too. “An underrated classic,” they told you in unison.

You helped Frank put Mary to bed, a task made easier after such a tiring day. “I guess I should get going.” You stood awkwardly in the small kitchen, unsure of yourself and painfully aware of how close your hand was to Frank’s resting on the counter.

“Yeah, I have a job early in the morning.” He looked down at his shoes, unable to look you in the eye, and you wondered if he hadn’t found your company as enjoyable as you’d found his.

“Listen, I don’t know if you’ve been to Ferg’s? The little bar down the road? I go every Friday night just to relax and have a few beers. Maybe you’d like to come with me next weekend?”

Is he asking me on a date? You could feel your heartbeat racing. The look on your face must not have matched the excitement you felt at the prospect of spending time alone with the dreamy, kind, sarcastic man in front of you. 

He felt like an idiot when you hesitated to answer. He clearly read everything wrong. He had to fix this. “It’s a good place to meet people, you know? I know you’re fairly new to the area, so if you’re looking for more local friends, it’s a good place to start.” He winced, hoping you couldn’t sense his embarrassment at thinking that you would want to go on a date with him.

You swallowed, trying not to let your disappointment show outwardly. Of course he’s not interested in me. Stupid. “Oh, yeah! That would be great, Frank. What time?”

Frank let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding, relieved that you didn’t seem offended by his offer. “How’s 7? I’ll pick you up? We can walk over together.”

And that’s how Fridays came to mean so much to you. Almost every Friday for the last six months, Frank met you at your door and you walked to Ferg’s together. Frank told you it would be a good place to make new friends, but you paid no mind to the other patrons. You only had eyes for each other, yet neither of you could see it, even though Roberta pointed out (repeatedly) that neither of you had taken anyone else home in all that time.

The more time you spent with Frank, the more certain you were that God was real and your life was His favorite trainwreck reality TV series. Even if you could have customized a dream man Build-A-Bear style, Frank still would blow your creation out of the water. He was smart and funny, not to mention an adoring parent to Mary, to whom you grew more attached each day. He was kind and thoughtful, talented and hard-working. Although he was a grouch, as Mary would say, he always was sweet to you. He took a genuine interest in anything you had to say, whether you were venting about work or filling him on the latest episode of whatever show you were binging. He was ridiculously sexy without even trying. All those hours he spent doing manual labor in the sun did wonders for his physique. You’d only seen him completely shirtless on one occasion, and the image of him with sweat dripping down his chest was burned into your memory, fueling your late-night thots and causing you to break out your vibrator on what was now a regular basis.

Six months had come and gone in the blink of an eye, and you’d begun to accept that Frank didn’t want to be anything more than friends with you. You decided tonight was as good a night as any to talk to someone new, to start letting go of your unrequited feelings. 

You swapped out your usual jeans for a sundress, t-shirt bra for a push-up, and lip balm for lipstick. Putting your phone and some cash in a wristlet, you considered wearing your new strappy sandals. The walk to Ferg’s was about five minutes each way down a sandy road, though, and memories of the sticky floor inside aided your preferred pair of Converse in their victory for the night. 

Just as you finished tying your shoes, you heard a knock at the door. You adjusted your cleavage and fluffed your hair a final time with one last look in the mirror. Here goes.

Frank felt like he had the wind knocked out of him in the best possible way. He suddenly felt entirely underdressed in his aloha shirt, even though it was his go-to for nights out of the house. He’d never seen you dressed so nicely when you weren’t going to work. 

You were the kind of beautiful that didn’t require makeup. Your natural hair always framed your face perfectly, even if you didn’t think so. He thought you were adorable when you were concentrating on something, blowing your hair out of your face with a huff. Visions of your soft curves made their way into Frank’s dreams on more than one occasion. He had seen you in your swimsuit several times, sunbathing with Roberta and swimming with Mary at the beach. It wasn’t even all that revealing, but it accentuated your figure in ways that forced Frank into needing a cold shower or two. Above all, though, he admired your heart. You’d allowed Mary into your life without hesitation, spending time with her because you wanted to and allowing her to ask all those questions that Frank just wouldn’t be able to answer. It killed him that you didn’t see him the way he saw you, a perfect partner for him and a worthy maternal figure for Mary.

“Frank? You okay?” Your concerned voice shook him out of his thoughts, prompting him to close his mouth which apparently had opened wide in astonishment when you stood in the doorway.

“Yeah, um... You look…” He looked a little confused, his brow furrowed and lips pursed. “Why are you all dolled up? It’s only Ferg’s.” He wished he could’ve kicked himself in the teeth when your face fell at his question. He rubbed a hand over his face. “Shit. Let me try that again,” he nearly begged, running up to you to stop you from going back inside. “You look really nice, honey.” He ran his calloused hand up your forearm, but quickly returned it to his side when he realized what he’d done. “Is it a special occasion, though? Should I change?”

You gave him a watery smile, given that you were three seconds from slamming the door in his face and crying. “That’s better. Thank you.” You lightly pushed at his shoulder, trying and failing to ignore the electricity you felt at the contact. “No occasion, though. Just thought maybe it was about time I actually introduced myself to someone new.” 

You couldn’t quite read his reaction. Little did you know he was certain he just felt his heart physically crack in his chest. “What do you mean?”

The two of you started walking, the tension between you thickening the very air you breathed. “Well, when you first invited me to Ferg’s, you said maybe I’d get to know some other people in the area, right? But we’re always with each other. I’m sure you’re itching to talk to someone other than me. I don’t want to hold you back.”

“Ah. Gotcha.” Frank abruptly reverted to the quiet, distant state he usually occupied before he met you. He sped up a bit, walking ahead of you and desperately attempting to school his features before you caught up with him.

Frank practically ran to the restroom, not slowing down even to hold the door open for you. You took a deep breath and rolled your shoulders, relaxing before entering the bar. Normally, whoever made it first would order drinks for you both, but Frank made it painfully clear that he had no desire to be in your company tonight. You ordered your usual, an Angry Orchard with a shot of Fireball in a tall glass. The combination tasted like apple cider, but the burn in your throat was caused by liquor rather than heat. It was strong enough to get you buzzed, but not so strong that you’d be stumbling home. You swallowed half the glass in one gulp, wanting to feel the warmth in your veins boosting your confidence as quickly as possible.

“Y/N? How are you?” You turned around, eyes meeting those of Jamie, your coworker. He leaned in for a hug and you accepted somewhat reluctantly, having interacted with him only in passing.

“Hey! I’m all right. What’s up?” You smiled at him, taking another sip of your drink. Jamie was not very subtly staring at your chest. You weren’t crazy about him, but the attention felt nice, so you allowed it.

“Not much. Just happy it’s Friday, ya know?” He looked around for a moment before returning his attention to you. “You’re usually here with that mechanic dude, right?”

You stifled a laugh thinking about how Frank would react if he heard himself referred to as “dude” by this prick. “Yeah, he’s around somewhere. We’re just-“

“-Just friends?” he finished for you with a hopeful look.

You nodded in response, looking him up and down. He was no Frank, but you couldn’t deny he was handsome. It had been so long since you’d even been kissed, and though you hated to admit it, you were touch-starved. One night couldn’t hurt, could it?

Meanwhile, Frank was splashing his face with cool water. He couldn’t believe he’d fucked up so royally. He was sure you didn’t want him how he wanted you, and now he was sure it was too late to tell you how he really felt.

He knew from the moment he saw you that he’d never get you out of his head. Roberta had been talking you up to Frank for weeks, but he wanted no part of it, mumbling something about there being “a reason why no one used matchmakers anymore.” He had no choice but to make your acquaintance when he was looking for Mary, and he’d never been so happy that Roberta could say she told him so.

Later that day at the beach, Mary approached him while you were dozing on a towel in the sand. She sat on his lap and reached for his face, using her pointer fingers to turn the straight line of his mouth up into a smile. “Roberta says you have a ‘charming’ smile, Frank. We think you should use it more.” He chuckled quietly, careful not to disturb you, and pulled Mary in close, planting a wet kiss on her cheek. She grimaced at the feeling, dramatically wiping at her face until he let her go back to reading with Fred.

The sound of the jukebox starting up cut short his reverie. He had to get out there and explain himself. Frank dried his face and hands with a paper towel before smacking his cheeks and stretching his neck back and forth to each shoulder. 

Frank exited the restroom only to find some douchebag staring at your ass as you leaned over toward the bar. He saw red when the piece of shit held out his hand behind his back while his friend slipped a twenty-dollar bill into it, seemingly winning some sort of bet.

Jamie didn’t stand a chance when Frank stormed in between the two of you. “That’s IT,” he yelled, so intense he borderline bellowed. He threw whatever cash he had in his pocket on the bar to pay for your drinks before he pulled you outside, almost getting to your door while you fought against his grip. He only stopped when you spun your body around like something out of Dancing with the Stars and jumped in front of him, forcing him to catch you.

“Jesus Christ, Y/N, what are y-”

“-What are YOU doing, Frank? What the fuck was that?” You put your feet back down on the ground but remained facing him, arms crossed over your chest.

He groaned in frustration, suddenly realizing he actually had no clue how to respond. “Fuck.”

You looked at him, tapping your foot in anticipation.

“I didn’t like the way he was looking at you.” He rubbed at his temples in the way he did when he felt a headache coming on.

“And how was he looking at me, Frank? What does it matter to you?”

“He was looking at you like you were a piece of meat and I… FUCK!”

You both turned when your neighbor opened his window. “Can you kids keep it down out here?”

You waved bashfully at the old man. “Sorry, Mr. Parker,” you said in unison.

“Come inside, Frankie.” The nickname that typically made him roll his eyes at you never had sounded sweeter, now that its use confirmed you didn’t hate him for the scene he made. You both toed off your shoes at the door before you made your way into the living room, motioning for him to sit next to you on the couch when he tried to sit in the armchair across the room.

You leaned forward, pinching his chin between your thumb and forefinger. “Now what’s going on in that sun-damaged brain of yours?”

He let out a laugh so soft you almost missed it, but you were glad you didn’t. Sitting back against the arm of the couch, you pulled a pillow into your lap and hugged it, giving Frank your full attention.

Frank cleared his throat, doing his best to accept that it was now or never. “That guy was leering at you, and it pissed me off. You deserve better, Y/N.” He pried your fingers from where they were locked around the pillow to hold your hands in his.

“If you want to meet new people, that’s great. If you don’t want to be with me, that’s a little less great, but I’d understand. He didn’t even pay for your drinks. And I th-”

You covered his mouth with one of your hands, and he knitted his brows in confusion. “You’re making it sound like it’s an option to be with you.” You were in disbelief, side-eyeing him, waiting for Ashton Kutcher to announce that you were, in fact, being Punk’d. 

The corners of his mouth lifted into the soft smile he reserved for you. It was the same one he gave you whether you were on a tangent about how “Obsessed” by Mariah Carey is “the single greatest diss track of all time” or you were helping Mary put a harness and leash on Fred “just to see how he’d do” on a walk.

“For a distinguished professor, you’re kind of a dummy, Frank.” You took his face in your hands, thrilled to be feeling his stubble against your palms. Before he could talk back to you, you kissed him, unsure how you denied yourselves such a simple yet extraordinary pleasure for so long. It only took a moment for him to relax into it, his hands removing the pillow between you before finding your waist and pulling you almost into his lap.

You deepened the kiss, threading your fingers through his hair. He pulled away first, pressing his forehead to yours. “Seems like we’re both dummies, huh?” 

You were going to ask why pulled away until you looked down to see a considerable tent forming in the front of his jeans. You laughed as he pulled you into a tight hug, one arm wrapped around you while the other hand held your face against his neck.

You kissed the side of his neck softly before leaning back to look at him. “All this time? I thought you didn’t see me this way.” You held his face, stroking his cheeks with your thumbs. “You asked me to go to Ferg’s and then said I could meet other people, so I thought that was it, you know?”

He covered your hands with his and pecked your lips softly. “Honey, I thought it was the other way around. I was trying to ask you out and you looked like you’d seen a ghost.” You giggled, spluttering a bit because tears had started falling at some point. He wiped your tears away before swiping his thumb over your bottom lip, pulling it down a bit. “We’re fools, aren’t we?”

You nodded slowly and Frank saw something wicked flash in your eyes before you took his thumb in your mouth, sucking lightly. “Jesus, honey.” His length hardened underneath you and you could feel the wetness beginning to pool in your panties, prompting you to grind down into his lap.

You released his thumb from your mouth, pressing your chest into his before kissing him again. “I think we’re only fools if we don’t take advantage of the rest of your adult time.” You removed your dress easily, returning your hands to Frank’s shoulders to push off his shirt.

He surged forward to kiss you again, working magic with his tongue against yours. You wrapped your legs around his waist and he picked you up, walking you into the bedroom. Placing you on the bed carefully, he removed your bra and panties before pulling off his boxers and jeans in one go. You thought you wanted him before, but now that you could see everything he’d been hiding under his baggy clothes, you didn’t see how you could ever let him leave your bedroom.

The next few minutes were spent exploring each other’s mouths while Frank stretched you with his fingers. You didn’t think you’d ever been so wet in your life and thought you might pass out if you didn’t feel him inside you immediately. You gave his cock a few strokes before sliding his head through your folds, coating him in your slick.

“Waitwaitwait, honey. Do you have a condom?”

“You don’t need one if you don’t want one. It’s okay.”

He looked like you just gave him tomorrow’s winning lotto numbers, taking a deep breath to steady himself before he looked at you again. “Oh, God. Are you sure?”

“Mhm. I wanna feel you. Make me yours?”

“Anything you want, honey, but if you change your mind, just tell me, okay?” He lined himself up, seconds shy of entering you for the first time.

“I figured if you were gonna be possessive of me tonight, you might as well take it the whole nine, Frankie.” You laughed as he let out an exasperated sigh. “Seriously, though, I’m clean, I’m on the pill, and I’ve wanted you for a long time.” You reached up to scratch lightly through his chest hair.

“The only thing I wanna hear right now is you moaning for me.” He drove into you harshly, but waited a moment for you to adjust once he was seated to the hilt. “So damn wet and tight for me, honey. You’re so perfect, so beautiful.” He kissed you again before he began to move, slowly but surely making you lose your mind.

He dipped his head down to take one nipple in his mouth, then the other, effectively shutting you up and emptying all thoughts from your head. He nipped at the swell of your breast, soothing the bite with his tongue. “Fuck, Frank, please!”

“Please what, honey?” He picked up his pace, fucking into you so vigorously you moved up the bed. “Tell me what you need.”

“Make me cum, Frank. Please, baby, I need it. Need you,” you cried, leaning up to bite into his shoulder, stifling your moans.

“I wanna hear you, Y/N. I wanna hear those pretty moans while I’m making this perfect pussy cum for me.” The combination of his filthy words and the sight of him sucking on his own fingers before rubbing at your clit sent you over the edge, making you scream his name over and over again for what felt like forever and not long enough.

You could tell he was close, his hips stuttering and losing their rhythm. He began to pull out, unsure if you were willing to let him finish inside you, but knowing he was too close to wait for an answer.

You hooked your legs around his waist and pulled him close, pushing him back into you. “Fill me up, Frank. I wanna feel all of you. Please give it to me,” you whimpered. His release triggered another for you, chanting each other’s names surely loud enough for the neighbors to hear. 

He stayed inside you as you both came down from your shared high, gingerly flipping you over so he laid on his back with you on his chest. He kissed the top of your head, fingers fluttering up and down your sides. 

“What’s on your mind now, Frankie?” You looked up at him through your lashes, mildly terrified of the answer.

He looked down at you with the most adoration you’d ever seen, lifting your chin so your eyes met his in the moonlight. “That wasn’t too soon, was it? You mean so much to me and to Mary. I don’t wanna mess this up. I don’t ever wanna hurt you. You’re the best thing in my life besides Mary, you know that?”

You kissed his chest before looking back up at him, smiling. “First of all, I would argue that wasn’t soon enough.” He hissed as you clenched around his still softening cock inside you.

“You’re evil.”

Winking at him, you continued tracing patterns on his chest with your fingers. “Second, that all kinda sounds like you might be in love with me, Frank Adler.”

His hands stopped moving for a second before he responded. “Would you run away if I said I am?”

“Well, I wouldn’t run away. This is my house.” You thought your heart might explode in your chest.

“I didn’t even say it, but I take it back,” he huffed, throwing his arm over his eyes.

“What if I told you I felt the same way?”

He grinned, sitting up to kiss you feverishly on your cheeks, the tip of your nose, and finally your lips. You could feel him starting to harden again inside you, leading to round two of… well, you lost count.

You ate breakfast and showered together in time for Frank to return home before Mary did, agreeing to talk more later and to hold out on Roberta for a while.

Frank stood on your doorstep, leaning in to kiss you once more. All of a sudden, you heard a familiar meow and thanked God you were dressed and not in your robe.

“Frank, what are you doing here? I thought I’d come see Y/N since I’m not supposed to come home until noon.”

You bit your tongue to keep from cackling. Frank ran a hand over his face, his blissful bubble burst. He was getting you a hotel room next weekend.

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Seconding the 'mob guys watching over Chris for Paul's suggestion!

CW: References to murder/mob organization stuff, references to parental death, grief, referenced past whump of a minor

Every Tuesday at 9 am, just like clockwork, Sean Malley lumbers into a coffeeshop nestled into the corner of a flat featureless strip mall. Contrasting to the pale concrete nothingness of its surrounding, the little coffeeshop is painted  a warm, rich brown along the exterior, with heavy platers spilling over with purple and yellow flowers every few feet until Sean reaches the door.

It’s a welcome bit of individuality along this ring of small strip malls and larger big-box stores kept out of the city proper by a pile of zoning laws too draconian to fight. He’s been coming here for ten years now, more or less, and has seen the little coffeshop through its earliest days struggling for business right to now, where he feels reasonably certain he’ll be dead long before they close this place for good. 

He moves inside, the light immediately warm and slightly dimmed. The scent in the air of freshly roasted coffee beans and baked goods. The cannolis they sell came from him, Sean’s proud of that - his wife had a favorite recipe and he’d given it to them after she passed, hoping for one batch for the service. They’d just kept making them, having one ready for him when he popped in, and... well, they’ve sold them ever since. Even call them Christa’s Cannolis, handwritten in cursive on a little placard. She’d have been tickled pink, he thinks sometimes, to see it. 

One of his knees comes and goes as it pleases these days, giving his step a bit of a shuffle-scrape. He’s smiling, though, and humming as he goes.

Life is good for Sean Malley, all things considered. 

Truth be told, he hadn't actually expected to live this long. Keeping close to Conor and his family had paid off in the early days - just as his instincts had kept him safe when the Garden erupted in in-fighting, too. When the Clean-Up happened, during the Garden’s most vicious in-fighting, Sean had seen half the men he’d watched start as snot-nosed dumbasses taken out one by one, clearing the way for Conor’s fucking grandson to make his play for power.

Those kids who’d run lookout gigs and then moved on to guard duty or work with the cargo coming in... one by one those kids-turned-adults, with families of their own, had been removed from the picture. Fifteen, all told, a bloodbath stretched out over six months - sixteen, of course, if you count how Paul’s murder went all wrong. 

The one comfort had been watching Conor’s grandson lay the groundwork for his own comeuppance the whole time - promising favors for loyalty and then killing the ones he’d promised those favors to. That’s no way to start yourself as leader, and... well.

Trash had been taken out, in the end. Riley Higgs had gotten rid of the poison - and the poison’s friends - and his crew’s a damn sight better than Conor’s grandson’s people had been. 

Riley, for one thing, understands that an organization like the Garden works, in the end, on trust. On being a family.

Don’t kill your family without a good damn reason, now do you? 

Now Riley... he had a good reason. And Sean had made sure Riley Higgs knew a few very important facts that kept him on the man’s good side, and very much alive when the dust settled.

Even if he had did have to live with a bum knee. And back. And his hip’s started twinging every time it rains...

"Morning, Mr. Malley!" His favorite barista calls out, giving him a wave from behind the counter. She's a pretty thing, just cute as a button. Probably in her late twenties but when you’re as old as Sean is, everyone looks like a child playing pretend. 

Still, it always brings a bit of sun in the old man's day to see her bright pink hair before he ever takes his seat. He always tells her she should move on from here, do something with her life other than serve old men their coffee and watch them while away the hours.

But I like it here, Melody always replies, giving a little shrug of her shoulders. I like our regulars, too. Besides, this place pays better than the job I’d get with my actual degree. 

"G'morning to you, Melody!" He calls back, moving to have a seat in his usual spot, sinking gratefully into the plush armchair by the bookshelf in the corner. His favorite coffee table book, a heavy thing full of photos of World War II, is already laid out on the side table next to it, bookmarked where he’d left off last week. "Busy day, today?"

Melody is already heading his way, coffee in hand just how he likes it, one of Christa’s Cannolis on a small plate in the other. Sean’s doctor has been on him about cutting out sugar, and he’s done it just about everywhere else, but he still has his cannoli on Tuesdays. Christa had been so proud of herself when she’d mastered that recipe... 

"Not really,” Melody says with a shrug, breaking into his thoughts. “Just the usual morning rush and a couple college kids, wandered outside but they left their drinks, I figure they’ll come back. One of 'em looks like he got mauled by a real weak bear."

Sean feigns surprise. "Oh, does he now?" He takes a sip of his coffee and sighs happily. "Not too hot. You had it out already, didn't you?"

"I saw your car pull into the lot," Melody says, giving a little it's nothing gesture. “I knew you’d be in, so I kept an eye out for you.”

"You're a doll, Melody, and this place would be lost without you." He presses the twenty-dollar bill into her hand, and when she protests, he shakes his head, adds another ten, and closes her hand firmly around the cash. "Take it, take it. I'm an old man on my own, who've I got to spend it on, huh?"

"You're not that old, Mr. Malley," Melody sighs, an old song and dance between them. “You’ve got grandkids who could use it, too, you know.”

"Ha! Trust that my grandkids never want for anything, Melody. Besides, live the life I've lived, and sixty feels like eighty-two. Go on, then. Cilly'll be along in a bit."

He sits back to drink his coffee as she heads back behind the counter, watching through the front window the cars that pass along the highway, the scattering of people getting in and out of their own vehicles in the parking lot. It's a perfect, and perfectly normal, Tuesday morning. Just like any other.

A perfectly normal Tuesday where one creature of habit makes it a point to get a quick look at another. 

A flash of red catches his eye, and he frowns, watching a bright red Northern cardinal alight on the bench placed outside the shop, preening one wing briefly and then seeming to look towards the lot.

Sean follows its gaze, silently chastising himself for being so utterly taken by a simple bird, but... Northern cardinals are more or less unheard of around here, especially in the city. This one seems to cock its head in his direction. 

"Someone," He mutters to himself, "is a bit lost."

There's a peal of laughter, as the door opens, the little bell on top chiming to announce them, and there they are.

Two young people walking inside, heads tilted together. One of them has thick, wavy black hair, one of those haircuts the younger people like so much now, shaved on the sides but long on top. The younger guys in the Family wear their hair like that now and then. 

Sean thinks he liked it better when everyone kept things neat and tidy, but times change, and the Garden can't stagnate just because an old timer's got opinions. Riley’s take is he’d rather is people look like they could be anybody anywhere, and Sean has to admit the kind of haircut he’d like to see would stick out like a sore thumb.

Both of them are wearing all black head to toe, the black-haired one in a tank top and baggy pants, a large yellow lightning bolt on a cord settled just below their collarbone. Honestly, if he gets past the hair thing, they’re cute as a button, too.

Really, though, he’s not here because of them.

He’s here to get a good look at the young man walking in beside them. 

It’s funny - it’s been nine - ten? - years since he last saw Paul Higgs alive, the day before he and his sweet Ronnie were gunned down in their own home in the night... but tears still prick at the corners of Sean’s eyes when he see the ghost of Paul in his son’s narrow face.

There’d been a joke when the little one first came into the world, that somehow Paul and Ronnie had put together a child where her genetics simply skipped out entirely. He’d been a little clone of Paulie from the start, and he’s different as a man than he’d been as a child lining toy cars up at their feet in the warehouse on Saturdays when Ronnie needed a break.

Sean pulls his phone out, idly scrolling - his daughter had helped him to get Facebook and a couple other things besides, including some kind of app that had his favorite card games. He pretends now to be fascinated by something he sees, but in truth he pulls his camera up and starts recording.

“It, it, it could change everything,” Paulie’s boy is saying, breathlessly excited, hands moving through the air in a blend of gesture and general happiness. “You see? Everything! Make it, it, it-it safer, make... make things better.”

“I know, I know,” The other one replies, deep voice warm and thick with love, and Sean sighs, missing his Christa now more than ever. He consoles himself with a bite of cannoli. “I already told you I’m in, Chris, okay? I’m going to help you. You don’t have to sell me on it.”

Tristan ducks his head with a shy smile, and boy if he isn’t Paul’s spitting image in that, too. Paulie hadn’t smiled much, not like his kid does - maybe that’s what he got from Ronnie - but in a smile like that, well... you could see where he got it from. If you’d known Paul, of course.

Which the kid didn’t, not anymore.

“It could, um, be dangerous though.” They’re barely audible now as they go back to where they left their still-steaming drinks, sitting down on a nearby couch. “Nat’s worried. And, and, and you know Jake-”

“Chris, you could walk across a crosswalk when the light starts blinking and Jake would still worry about you,” The other one teases. Sean knows their name, but right now it won’t quite come to mind, lingering on the tip of is tongue, never quite landing. “It’ll be public, yeah-”

“Telling everyone who... who, who I am.” Tristan starts tapping his fingers on his pants, a peculiar finger-twist-tap-tap-tap gesture that Sean once knew as well as anyone, when the boy was small. But it’s the words, with a hint of nervousness lining them, that get his attention. “The... the whole world’s going to, to, to to-to-... to... to know about Tristan Higgs.”

Now that gets Sean’s attention. He cuts the video, sends it to Riley, and starts a new one. It takes work not to sit up, or drop his cannoli, or in some other way give himself away. 

He knows, then?

How?

Sean looks down at his phone, looking over the scar on Paul’s boy’s forehead, the only remaining evidence of what had been much more visible the first couple times they’d seen him out after it happened. Sean and Cilly had figured maybe a fight - people get into them, really. Paul wasn’t exactly gentle as a lamb, and why would his boy be?

But now... he wondered. His instincts told him the two were related, and of course he knew from the time they’d worked with WRU pretty closely under the table that those memory things they did sometimes failed. Sean had done a fixer job once for someone whose pet had recovered memories too fast and killed a servant in a panic...

“Oh, Paul,” Sean murmurs. “What’d your boy do, hm?”

“I’m, I’m going to to to t-... to tell everyone who I am,” Paul’s boy is saying, leaning forward and taking the hands of the other one in his own, squeezing them tight. “I’m... will, will, will you come with me? When, when I... so someone’s there?”

“What? Holy shit, Chris, go to the Olympics? With you?” They inhale and exhale, blowing some hair from their eyes, and smile. “You should take someone who knows more than I do about all that stuff, Chris, take Jake, or-”

“Jake has has to stay here. To, to protect the house. But... will you come with me?”

Sean cuts the video, sends it to Riley, and this time adds a message.

Olympics are in Chicago this year. What’s Paul Jr. planning?

He feels eyes on him and glances up to find Tristan looking over at him, an expression of uncertainty on his face. Sean’s been watching him for years, popping up in places, the way you sometimes see the same faces at the corner store, the mom-and-pop, a coffeeshop like this one. Now, he watches Tristan look him over, knowing he’s familiar but not knowing why. Part of him, with a pinprick of an old, old grief, wishes Paul’s little boy would recognize him now. 

Most of him knows it’s better if he doesn’t.

Tristan looks away, and goes back to talking, but his voice lowers and now Sean can’t quite pick up what he’s saying beyond a few scattered words. He gets a couple photos of the lovebirds with their head together, sipping coffee, and sends those on to Riley, too.

Job done, he settles back to finish his cannoli and drink his coffee. Tristan and-... Laken, his name suddenly supplies, only an hour after he’d started trying to remember it - get up and leave, Tristan’s arm around Laken’s waist.

Good for the kid, Sean thinks, with a smile. By this age Paul had an elementary school son running around, but you know, it’s good to take your time on these things, and it’s nice to see that all the shit they’ve had to stand back and watch still wraps up nicely into Paul’s boy living a pretty nice life indeed.

His phone dings just as Cilly enters - right on time at 10, like clockwork - and he glances down to open the message from Riley.

I’ll get one of our guys to look into it. This might give us the out on the business I don’t want to be in I’ve been looking for. Kid looks good, looks like Paul. Family genes run deep.

Sean greets Cilly, even older than him but a sight more spry, and glances out the window. The bird’s gone from the bench, of course. The day is bright and shining.

-

In Laken’s car, they’re halfway back to the house Laken shares with their roommates when Chris suddenly sits straight up. “Mr. Malley,” He breathes out, green eyes widening.

Laken jumps - he’d been silent, preoccupied and in thought - and nearly jerks the car into a curb. “Damn, Chris! You scared me. What’d you say?”

“The old guy, in, in, in the the the the-the-... the coffeeshop, who kept looking at, at me.” Chris rocks forward, hands on the dashboard, his eyes staring ahead but not at the road, they’re looking far ahead... or behind himself, back in time and not space, when and not where. “His name’s Mr. Malley. I, I, I knew-... my dad knew, my, my, my dad, my dad-” 

He winces, the headache splitting him apart, and Laken hits their turn signal, pulling into the parking lot of a generic fast food place, swinging into a parking space and turning to look at him. 

“Chris? You okay?”

Chris’s face has gone pale, cold sweat breaking out. It still happens, sometimes, and when they lean over to touch his shoulder he flinches back from them, instinctively.

Laken exhales. “Okay. Ride it out, Chris. Let the memory go if it’s hurting, it’ll come back to you. They all come back now.”

“No! No, I, I, I want-... Mr. Malley knew my dad, I went to-... work, with, with him sometimes, his his his wife babysat me, I... I know him. I knew him. I knew-” He turns to look at them, and they fight the urge to try and touch him again.

Not yet.

“Do you... do you think, think, think he knew me?”

Laken swallows. “I don’t think so. Wouldn’t he have said something, if he recognized you? If he was your dad’s friend? Are you absolutely sure that-”

“Yes, I’m, I’m sure. I know it was him. I, I, I know, he, he, he gave me me me Dinotopia books... for Christmas one year...” Chris jerked in a breath and let it out again, hands going up over his head, folding himself in half until his forehead rested on the dashboard, pressed to the cool molded plastic. “He, he, he, he came to their funeral, he hugged me, he said, you’re too young to to to to have to lose so much, and everyone said-... everyone said stuff I hated but but but not him, he said, he said-”

“Chris, please, don’t hurt yourself doing this-”

“He said grief gets worse before it gets better, and and and and he said-... he said... he said don’t let anyone tell you that R-Ronnie’d want you to to to be strong, she’d want you to scream your head off if you want to, your dad’d be proud if if if if-if... if you told us all to go to hell, and... and and and and it felt like he was the only person who who who knew them at all that day, everyone said, said, said stupid things but not him, not-... not him and not Mr. Cilly, not-... not my Aunt Jo, not anybody, but he-”

Chris chokes on a sob and when Laken throws their arms around him he melts into it this time, crying against their shoulder, the two of them uncomfortably arched over the center console and the gear shift. 

“It’s okay,” Laken whispers, running their fingers over the slowly growing fuzz of his hair. “It’s okay. Let it ride, Chris. It’s okay.”

“He, he, he was my dad’s b-b-best friend-... Why d-didn’t he, if he saw me, why wouldn’t he-... I s-see him all th-the the the time, why doesn’t he know who I am?”

“Maybe he’s like Akio,” Laken says, and feels him trembling under their touch. “Maybe he’s always thought you were dead.”

“I w-was,” Chris whispers “When I, I, I was Baldur. When I was training. When... when I... was good. I was dead.”

“Chris-”

“I was dead,” Chris says, and they kiss his head, helpless to think of anything else to do. “When my p-parents died, I died, too. Mr. Malley made m-me feel like I I I wasn’t. Why didn’t he kn-know me? Why didn’t a-anyone know I was alive?”

“I don’t know, baby. I don’t know.”

“Hurts,” Chris whispers. “Why, why, why didn’t anyone help me before she she she-... before I was-... why didn’t anyone help me?”

Laken’s own eyes burn, and they draw circles on his scalp with their fingertips. “I can’t answer that,” They say, low and soft. “I’m sorry. But you know you have people who can and will help you now.”

For a while, Chris’s only sounds are sobs, and Laken can only make soft soothing nonsense noises and feel like shit that it’s not enough.

“Ev, everyone knew she-she hated me,” Chris whimpers, and sounds younger than he ever has, and Laken wants to throw a punch or scream and they can’t do either, only sit in the car and glare at people who look in as they walk past. “Everyone.”

“Chris-”

“Everyone knew, why, why, why why why didn’t they stop her?”

-

Back in the coffeeshop, Sean and Cilly are in the midst of an argument about a baseball game that happened 30 years ago when his phone rings. He holds up one finger and picks it up, lifting it to his ear.

“I have a job for you,” Riley says, with his cheerful hint of brogue. Funny, to remember that this part of the family only came here a few decades ago. “It’s a job I know you’ll enjoy.”

“Watching Paul’s boy is my retirement gig,” Sean says amicably. “You know I don’t do the dangerous stuff any longer, Mr. Higgs.”

There’s a silence. “I’m going to do some looking into what you sent me. But in the meantime I need to give you a job, and you’re going to do it.”

“And why is that, Mr. Higgs?”

“Because you’re going to want to do this.”

“What is it, then?”

Another pause.

“I want you to find Joanne Botham.”

Sean thinks of the dour, angry woman who had ignored Tristan in his funeral suit, gathering mourners around her while she sobbed over Ronnie’s loss, Ronnie’s own son alone on a couch staring off into space until Sean himself had sat down and told him, don’t let ‘em say your mom’d be proud of you bein’ stoic today, kiddo. Ronnie’d want you to scream if you felt the urge. 

The kid had looked at him like he’d been given water in the desert, a starving man offered a bowlful of broth. Mr. Malley?

People will say a lot of real stupid stuff to you today, Sean had said. His eyes had gone to Joanne Botham, and Ronnie’s sister’s icy glare when she looked at her own nephew had made his blood run cold with anger even then. Likely in the future, too. But you just remember Paul and Ronnie weren’t saints. And they’d never want you to be, either. I’m sorry for your loss, Tris. No one on God’s earth has loved their kid like yours loved you. Should’ve seen his face when he told us your mom was pregnant with you. Could’ve lit the world with all the sunshine there.

A clap on the back, a whispered thank you, and that had been the last day Sean Malley had ever seen Tristan Higgs alive.

Until, of course, Riley had told him there was a boy living in a pet liberation safehouse who looked remarkably like Paul. Until, of course, Riley had shared that he’d known Tristan Higgs was alive all along. Until, of course, Sean had been told he couldn’t make a move because WRU was protecting all the players who had stolen his friend’s kid. 

Until... now.

“Mr. Higgs?” His voice drops, and Cilly sits up, alarmed at the sudden change in tone. 

“You heard me. Find Joanne Botham. I have a feeling we are about to get the opportunity we’ve been waiting for.”

The phone goes dead on the other end, and Sean slowly sets it down, finishing his second cup of coffee in a gulp. Then he looks at Cilly, and starts to smile. 

“Riley’s got work for us,” He says, and when Cilly’s eyebrows raise he doesn’t wait for him to ask for more. “Don’t worry. You’re going to like it. Finally get to do what we should have done ten fucking years ago.”

---

Tagging: @burtlederp , @finder-of-rings , @endless-whump , @whumpfigure , @astrobly @newandfiguringitout , @doveotions , @pretty-face-breaker , @gonna-feel-that-tomorrow @boxboysandotherwhump  , @oops-its-whump  @cubeswhump ,  @whump-tr0pes  @downriver914 @vickytokio @whumpiary @orchidscript @moose-teeth @nonsensical-whump

[madamewriterofwrongs]

Soft Eddie thought: the first time he mentions Buck in passing as 'my husband' and then all of a sudden it hits him for the first time that, holy shit, he has a *husband*! And either tears up a little or can't stop smiling.

Hey Nonny, I hope you see this, I know it’s been awhile. 

Subconsciously Drawn Together

911/Buddie

Eddie would never call what he feels a crush – after all, he’s a grown adult who hasn’t had a crush on anyone since Jenny Rodriguez broke his heart in eighth grade by picking Eugene as her lab partner instead of him. (Coincidentally, they are both married to someone named Makayla and neither of them lived outside of Texas for more than a few months).

He always thought that would be him. Not, married to Jenny or Eugene (or either Makayla for that matter), but there was a part of him that knew he was destined to live a quiet life. Marriage, children, maybe a dog and a white picket fence if they wanted to be really cliched. And he was okay with that – he really was. For Eddie, there was no other life than the one laid out for him.

Going to war didn’t change that. A poor country boy joining the military to provide for his pregnant wife back home? Even pulp fiction novelists thought it was too obvious. But, again, he never minded living an uninteresting life. Not everyone was destined for adventure and drama. Most people were made to get through the day.

Even when the nightmares came and he struggled to keep his family together, it just seemed like the next chapter in his boring novelization of a life. Everyone had marital troubles after coming home, everyone had bad dreams and phantom pains. Everyone worried where the money would come from to support their family. Everyone snuck into their son’s room to watch him sleep because they were afraid to admit that they’d forgotten what he looked like while he was away. Everyone felt guilt and shame and fear and regret. It was a part of life.

And then his wife left and his parents offered to take Christopher and for one moment, the thought crossed his mind. Could he let his son go (be with people who could stay at home and give him the care he needed)? Could he forget about Shannon and move somewhere else? Could he start over (relive his 20s in the carefree manner he’d seen others struggling to find)? Could he run away again and make it stick this time?

By the end of the week, he and Christopher were packed into his truck and headed to Los Angeles.

It didn’t feel like running away when he was mumbling his way through the Frozen soundtrack or listening to his son talk about his old school’s pet turtle that he’ll miss (and wonder what kind of pets the kids in Los Angeles got to have). It didn’t feel like running away then. It felt like they were running towards something.

Running towards a new life, of sorts, as it turned out. Sure, he still dealt with his parents’ criticism, and Shannon came back into their lives and for a moment, it felt like she’d never left him. But in LA, he had a purpose, he had freedom. For the first time in a long time, Eddie looked forward to opening his door in the mornings; for the first time in a long time, he never knew exactly what to expect, and LA was full of surprises.

The biggest surprise of all was named Evan Buckley.

Buck was a lot of things: a friend, a skilled firefighter, endearingly enthusiastic, subtle as a brick, and the first person outside of his real family that he called ‘family’ and truly meant it. He loved the men and women he served with in Afghanistan, but the moment they departed at the airport, he lost that connection. Joining the 118 had been a way to get that back and it had worked out fantastically. He had sports fanatics to cheer with, parents of blended families to vent with, people who knew his past and loved him despite it all.

Eddie never told anyone (except his therapist who never commented on it, but made a face that said they’d circle back to it at a later date), but he felt as though he’d known Buck for years. Once the man opened up to him, the trust he felt was strong, and the way he took an instant affection to Christopher made it easy to let this man into his life.

Within less than a year of joining the LA Fire Department however, his world imploded.

Or exploded, actually. First Shannon died, then Buck was injured, then his son was nearly taken by a natural disaster and he didn’t even know it. He spent so much time after that trying to put the pieces back together. For all the things he’d assumed his life would be – a wife and kid and a white picket fence – the only thing he had left was a son now dealing with immense trauma for such a young child to handle. And he had Buck (who was so bright and eager to please that one might describe him as a puppy at times). Nothing of his life had turned out the way it was meant to.

Suddenly, a year had passed since Shannon’s death and his life was still an unrecognizable sort of decagon shape instead of the standard cookie cutter circle. But none of that mattered because he was staring into bright brown eyes and a luminescent smile that was telling him that he was doing a wonderful job of raising Christopher on his own.

Others had been trying to tell him that for years (never the ones whose opinion meant to world to him, but he was learning to let that go) but that beautiful face was so sincere that he forgot himself. He forgot that he was a widow with a grieving son. He forgot the fear and regret that went along with the phantom pains when the weather turned cold. He forgot that he had failed in his ambition to live an entirely ordinary life. For a moment he thought: ‘when she smiles at me, I feel happy’.

He wanted to feel that way again.

There were several reasons that things just wouldn’t work out with Ana. For one: she was Christopher’s teacher, and even if it wasn’t against the rules, it still felt wrong. Two: he’d seen the moment she thought differently about him after he yelled at her at school. She was too professional and kind to say anything but even if it was possible, she was definitely no longer interested. The third reason was that he was a firefighter who worked insane hours and when he wasn’t at work, he was home with his son. There wasn’t exactly a lot of time for dating. Fourth: she wasn’t Buck.

That thought had been the one that kept him up at night. It had come to him while he stood in the shower, recounting his day, wondering how long he had until it would be time to pick up Christopher from school. He wasn’t feeling overly ambitious so he figured spaghetti and meatballs would be perfect for supper. He wondered what it would be like to cook for someone who wasn’t ten years old. Someone he could cook beside without having to keep a constant eye. There were times (in the early days with Shannon) where the two of them would cook together, do laundry, clean, do all the domestic things side by side. She had been insistent that they both learn to care for the house that they shared and he was happy to stand beside her in all things.

Remember to throw Buck’s gym clothes in the laundry next time he comes over. He keeps forgetting to throw them in his basket.

A simple little thought, really. He’d thought it before. His friend would leave his gym bag by the door for work and forget to empty it out when he went to do laundry. It was unlikely that anyone other than Eddie noticed the state of Buck’s clothes, but he’d been paying closer attention to him lately. Like how after the train derailment, his smile seemed easier; his shoulders relaxed more often – especially when he was with the 118 or Christopher. Buck seemed happy now that he’d gotten his closure from Abby.

He deserves to be happy. He makes me feel happy.

Buck did make him feel happy. The way he interacted with Christopher, the way he entrusted his son to this man without a second thought. But even when Christopher wasn’t around, Eddie enjoyed Buck’s company. Going to baseball games (dragging him, more like), sitting together when the crew went out for drinks after work. With Buck, he felt…

Safe.

Which wasn’t surprising, really. Buck was a kind man. Sweet and thoughtful. He put other’s first – just like Eddie does, he could hear Frank’s voice in his mind – and cared deeply about the people in his life. Not to mention, he was physically a very strong figure. In some other life, he and Buck met on the wrestling circuit but never fought. Him: with his MMA, and Buck: with his Greco-Roman Wrestling. With those broad shoulders and firm arms, he wouldn’t mind being pulled into a stronghold once or twice.

He knew Buck was conventionally attractive from the day they met. There was no hiding the sharp blue eyes or curly blond hair and rounded jaw.

Nothing like Ana.

Another correct statement that still seemed ominous in context. Why was he comparing Buck to Ana – or Shannon, for that matter? It wasn’t fair to compare friends to lovers. Although, Buck did fit into several categories on both sides.

Buck was a loyal friend, caring and trustworthy. He made Eddie and Christopher feel safe and loved. He wanted to do Buck’s laundry. He thought he was attractive. Slowly, one side of the column began to build in size.

Perhaps Buck was a bigger part of Eddie’s life than he realized. He hadn’t thought seriously about dating anyone until Ana and that never felt right but Buck…

Buck always felt right. Like he belonged with them. Like he’d known them all his life.

Could it be that Eddie wanted something other than friendship? Had he been climbing the wrong ladder all this time only to find himself at the top with no way across? After all: Buck had never given any indication that he was romantically interested in Eddie.

Though, to be fair, Eddie had given no indication either.

But that was because he’d just figured it out. Surely Buck had some idea that best friends didn’t act the way they did. Or maybe he didn’t. Maybe he wasn’t interested, in any way, with Eddie. Could he forget it and go back to the way things were? Now that his fingers seemed to tingle with the new realization, could he take it back? Could he put those feelings in a box until someone else came along?

Would there be anyone else?

What did he want to happen with Buck?

Kissing him, for starters, might be interesting. Those plump, pink lips exploring his entire body. Having someone in his bed every night would be nice – and not just anyone, but someone who understood his work and the stressors of the day. If anyone was going to stand by his side while he freaked out about Christopher going on his first date, it should be Buck. Next to Eddie, that man was the most protective when it came to that little boy. He’d only seen it once or twice but Eddie knew that Buck looked good in a suit. Would he look even better in a tux? Years from now, when he retired from the LAFD, it would be nice to feel the weight of a ring on his finger, knowing he had someone he loved waiting at home.

Oh.

Oh damn.

Eddie’s shower ran a little bit longer than expected that day.

That simple thought had sent him on a spiral two weeks ago and every night that he struggled to fall asleep, he found himself rolling to the empty side of the bed, wondering what it would be like to wake up next to his best friend.

The conclusion he inevitably came to: it would be wonderful.

If the worlds aligned, of course. He hadn’t spoken to anyone about his sudden, escalating realization (not even Frank). There was no way to know if Buck reciprocated his feelings in any way. Though he knew with uncanny certainty that he would be safe to confess his feelings without fear of losing his relationship entirely, it still seemed safer to gather more information before making any sort of move.

I’m safe with Buck no matter what.

So, no. Eddie would not describe what he felt for Buck as a simple ‘crush’.

It was everything.

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

The accident scene was a mess. It always was. They so rarely rolled up on an event that was neatly organized – not that it would make him any less stressed or worried for the safety of his patients. It was his job to worry, to be surrounded by chaos. Perhaps that was his new normal now, and his idea of an ordinary life had shifted to one that involved heavier boots.

There was still a sense of satisfaction and ease, knowing that he got to go home to his son every night, that he was helping people, and there were people in his life who loved and supported him. Unlike his old army mates (as strong as those relationships were), he also knew that if he woke up and decided to be a baker instead of a firefighter, the 118 would still treat him as one of their own.

Perhaps ‘baker’ wasn’t the best example, baking had never been one of his favourite activities. A florist, or a construction worker, maybe. Firefighting meant a lot to him but it wasn’t his calling – the way it was for his… for Buck. How would the man react if one day, Eddie told him that they would no longer be partners in work? There was no doubt in his mind that Buck would still be over on Thursday nights with pizza and video games. And perhaps if Eddie was working more regular hours, he could go over to Buck’s on occasion and make dinner for the three of them. That would be a nice surprise. Buck would smile that impossibly bright smile and open his arms to Christopher, swinging the boy around gently because he was overly cautious about roughhousing with him – something that only made Eddie’s heart beat faster. Then, Buck would make his way over to Eddie and kiss him with a sort of reverence; like he can’t quite believe that Eddie’s real. He could rest assured that the feeling was mutual.

What a ridiculously outdated fantasy. He’d clearly grown up watching too much ‘I Love Lucy’.

The firefighter shook his head as he hopped out of the truck, turning his thoughts towards the work at hand.

That was something he’d always been good at: focus and calm under pressure. It was what had made becoming a firefighter so appealing. Sure, being a combat medic meant he was more than qualified for field rescues, but all that stoic strength he possessed was better used at work rather than at home. At home, he could be Christopher’s dad. At work, he was Firefighter Diaz.

There was no room for fantasies in Firefighter Diaz’s mind.

The chaos of the accident mostly consisted of cries of pain from passengers trapped in their vehicles as they tried in vain to free themselves before the qualified company could arrive. It wasn’t uncommon to come across a major pile up in the middle of the day, when Angelenos weren’t kept at a complete standstill, and impatient drivers were a staple of life in the LAFD.

Eddie took his orders from Bobby, clearing a path of bystanders for the heavy equipment, and assisting those who were stuck somewhere between freeing themselves and receiving a particularly crude hemicorporectomy. For all the noise, it was a relatively calm affair. Sure, some were screaming and crying – and one woman definitely threw a fit when told to climb out the passenger-side window of her shattered vehicle. But those in need of help received the assistance they required, and the worst injury they encountered was a broken rib and neck bruise from a young man who remained conscious throughout his entire extraction.

It was messy, it was chaotic, it was loud, but it was all right. There were still a few people with minor concussions and bloody wounds that could hopefully be tended to at the scene (most of them unwilling to take the ambulance ride if it wasn’t strictly necessary). He was admittedly a little hyper-focused today, his mind fighting the urge to wander away from its regular duties. Eddie chided himself for feeling so lovesick at work. He’d gone all this time loving Buck, he could handle a few more hours. It was that hyper focus which would be his undoing.

“All right, I think you’re going to be just fine. Head on over to my husband over there and he’ll get you some gauze for your arm.”

An innocent enough sentence – one that didn’t register in his mind through the haze of moving from one patient to the next – but one that only fed into that dangerous fantasy of his.

“What did you call Buck?”

And one that Chimney had apparently heard loud and clear.

Eddie blinked, as he kept his eyes trained on the man before him (some poor bystander who’d bumped his head when he’d stumbled backwards to avoid the oncoming collisions), determined to remain professional in the face of his own idiocy.

Clicking his penlight on with a little too much enthusiasm, he shook the device over his patient’s face. “Can you look up, sir?” Eddie felt his coworker’s eyes trained on him but he kept his focus on his work. As he continued his examination, Chimney crept closer, eyebrows furrowed in confusion and amusement but still, the ex-soldier remained stoic as ever. Some part of Eddie knew that ignoring his friend now would only lead to a confrontation later but right now, he had work to do. And dividing his attention between his duty and his teasing friends was not how he wanted to spend his afternoon. So, he stayed focused. After a few moments, he saw Chimney shake his head and move away, letting Eddie take a much-needed breath of relief.

He was safe from his own stupid brain. For now.

Eddie knew it was coming when Chimney let him be during the rest of their scene cleanup. It was inevitable; but knowing and experiencing were two entirely separate matters.

“So.” Chimney wore what could only be described as a ‘shit-eating grin’ as he began his sentence, pulling all eyes in the back of the truck to him. “Is there something that Buck and Eddie would like to tell us?”

Buck, innocent as ever, turned to Eddie for guidance. “No…?” Eddie could only stare out the window, sorely tempted to remove his headphones if only to prolong the inevitable conversation. Was he blushing or was his face simply burning from the inside out?

“Are you sure?” The man was unrelenting, his voice growing higher with his escalating amusement. As if giving them a chance to confess would be easier than Chimney spilling the truth.

Not that there was any truth to confess. There was just one, very, very, idiotic man who got one simple crush and couldn’t keep it in his pants.

“Chim, what’s going on?”

There were two options Eddie faced in this moment where his head filled with warning sirens (not dissimilar to the ones that normally filled the truck). He could come clean and confess his sins to the team, facing the consequences with what meager amount of dignity he had left. Or, he could lie and pretend Chimney had misheard him, and they could all go about their day. That seemed the safer option. Of course, he hated lying to his team – to his friends – but what was the alternative?

“I called Buck my husband at the scene.”

Apparently, the alternative was exclaiming his idiocy in front of his teammates and denying the flash of a smile on his partner’s face. It was a simple upturn twitch of his lip, hardly noticeable, but the only opinion that mattered to Eddie as he gave his confession was from the man sitting across from him – and he was decidedly attuned to Buck’s ever-changing expressions. On a normal day, he enjoyed the way their knees bumped as the truck bounced through the streets of Los Angeles; it was just another reminder of how connected they were. Now, it made the space between them feel too close – yet still not close enough.

Buck’s face, upon hearing the news that Eddie had tied them together in the mind of some random stranger, flickered once before falling to something neutral and curious (almost amused). As if he was studying something.

“Oh, I don’t mind.” His partner shrugged and Eddie’s heart stopped. “Were they hitting on you?”

Again, Eddie appeared at a crossroads. “No.” And chose the more embarrassingly honest answer.

“Were they hitting on me?”

“No.” So many forks in his path but he continued to veer in one direction, as Buck furrowed his brows in confusion.

“Then why did you”

“I don’t know.” Eddie tried to sound casual as he grumblingly cut him off before he could continue his innocent interrogation. Through the headset, he could hear Chimney snort in disbelief but his eyes remained solely locked on his partner.

He knew why Chimney might scoff at his dismissal – those type of slipups didn’t ‘just happen’, after all – but it was as close to the truth as he could muster. He didn’t know why he’d said what he said. His mind was still frazzled from long hours contemplating what he wanted and what he felt.

Apparently, his subconscious had taken over and now he had his answer.

An answer which was decidedly too large to attempt to unpack while he was still on duty.

He wanted Buck to be his husband. He was ready to get married again – and to his best friend, no less. All wonderful information to process at another time.

The rest of the trip back to the station was filled with noise: the roar of the engine, the shout of the horn when someone inevitably cut them off, the clank of metal against metal. Eddie’s head was silent. He stared out the window at the passing world, feeling the eyes of his partner drilling into his cheek for a time, and then return to his phone. No one spoke, but the absence of voice was deafening. Teasing or pestering would have been better than the juxtaposing silence that told him everyone knew what he’d meant.

Buck had given him every out for his little mistake and, instead, Eddie had barreled straight into his own demise. There was no other explanation as to why he’d said what he said: he’d meant it. Or wanted to mean it, rather. Sure, his dirty little secret had been outed, but Buck had yet to make a comment one way or the other.

I don’t mind.

One friend helping out another: that was what it meant to Buck. And he loved that. But there was no mistaking now what Eddie felt in his heart.

He wanted it to mean something else.

Climbing out of the truck at the end of their journey was harder than usual. The silent stares wouldn’t stop because they were back at the station, it would only be worsened by the fact that there was nothing else to focus on. Eddie never prayed for a call – and he still wouldn’t now – but if there was any mercy in the world, he could avoid all of his friends and co-workers for the rest of their shift.

Simple enough.

“Hey.” Eddie cursed at the familiar voice following him towards the cubbies. Naturally, they were alone, naturally, there was no real excuse to leave – and apparently, he’d decided to suppress his ability to tell white lies for the sake of his pride today – naturally, his heart pounded behind his eyelids as Buck stopped jogging in front of him.

“I just want to say…” and here came the inevitable turndown Eddie dreaded and secretly hoped would never come. “It’s okay, I get it.” Buck’s smile was small but sincere. That man couldn’t be anything less than sincere.

It’s one of the reasons why I lo-

“It was just a slip of the tongue,” Eddie cut off his own thoughts before they betrayed him the way his subconscious had. He needed at least some of his faculties to survive the day. “Don’t worry about it.”

He stepped to the side, intending to escape his own personal hell – was it always this hot in the station? Did they always stand so close to one another? How had he never realized his feelings before now? – but Buck blocked his path.

“No, really, it’s fine.” Was Buck blushing now? “I kind of think of you as my work-husband, too.”

Another perfect opportunity for an out. He could flounder excuses about being tired and meaning it in a work-related setting the way Buck implied.

“Right.” His words sounded weak to his own ears. Who knew what they sounded like to Buck, as the man finally let him pass. Freedom secured, Eddie quickened his pace so as to escape the curious eyes of his fellow crewmates as quickly as possible.

Or at least, that was the plan, until Buck called out: “But you know, I’m free tonight if you wanted to talk about it.”

It felt as though the world stopped spinning – but the distant sound of clanking cutlery from the loft reminded him that it had not. His stomach dropped into his shoes, and his skin burst into flames from the buzzing in his ears. Eddie pivoted on his heel slowly to face his partner, uncertain he’d even heard the words he’d said. But there was Buck, blushing as brightly as he felt, but smiling a much more lopsided grin.

“Talk about what?” He cautiously asked.

Buck moved first, filling the minimal space Eddie had put between them with his broad chest and bright, eager eyes. He smelled of smoke and pine (despite interacting with neither today) and a thin sheen of sweat made him appear more disheveled than perhaps he was. Had he always been so intoxicating? What were they talking about?

“About being husbands… outside of work.”

“What?” Now Eddie was certain that he’d misheard his friend.

Buck simply smirked in response to his question, eyes moving slowly over Eddie’s face. He was always examining, questioning, confident. He had been doomed from the start.

“Christopher’s in bed at eight, right?”

“We’re pushing it to eight-thirty.” His mouth moved on autopilot, too stunned to comprehend the sudden shift in subject.

Again, Buck’s blue eyes circled his face slowly, absorbing all Eddie’s focus as he felt himself physically affected from the mere sight of his partner with his knowing grin and wandering eye. So entranced was he, that he didn’t notice how closely the other man had leaned into his space until he felt his hot breath against his skin. Eddie swallowed the lump in his throat.

He was absolutely doomed.

When Buck spoke, his tongue danced along his teeth, an enticing show of some unfulfilled fantasy that had never occurred to Eddie in the first place.

“Then I’ll be there at eight-thirty-one.”

Buck’s flirtatious demeanor melted into a giddy smile that snapped through the tension he’d pulled between them. “I was a little- a lot worried you didn’t feel the same.” He confessed, still filling Eddie’s space with his infectious energy. One word from him, and Eddie melted.

“You…were…” No more words filled his mind beyond a string of victorious swears and the sound of panicked cheering, but Buck seemed to understand him nonetheless. Buck had always understood him.

“I’ll see you tonight.”

If he hadn’t been so preoccupied with using the truck to keep his legs underneath him, he would have turned to see Buck walk away, pumping his fist in excitement. As it was, several crewmembers looked on from the balcony, shaking their heads at the pair of idiots acting like lovesick teenagers over a single date.

Chimney shooed them all away before taking the opportunity to shout: “Buck, tell your husband that lunch is ready.” Which earned him more than a few chuckles from the firefighters upstairs, and two overexaggerated groans from the men below.

They were definitely not going to be living this down for a while.

For once, Eddie didn’t mind – and if the grin plastered on Buck’s face for the rest of the shift was any indication, neither did he.

[clanoffetts]

someday. | paz vizsla x fem!reader

chapter I

masterlist

synopsis: Paz Vizsla finds himself stuck on Dantooine with a broken ship and no credits. Luckily, he finds you, a mechanic that will fix his ship for passage to Hosnian Prime. Over the course of your time together, a courtship blooms.

warnings/things to note: star wars swear words; reader has hints of PTSD that will be expanded on in further chapters (and those will be tagged with stronger warnings); blatant lack of knowledge of ship mechanics; only one use of ‘Y/N’

word count: 5.1k

Dirt kicked up behind heavy boots. Hands stopped their work so heads could turn. It wasn’t often a Mandalorian showed up. Actually, one had never showed up. And this one was huge. A buff man, covered in heavy armor that had been painted blue. Even his helmet evoked fear. The townspeople were watching myth become reality. 

The large man walked into Aliria’s Shop. The shop had a name once, when Aliria’s parents had opened it, but that was some 80 years ago now. The shop had survived the Clone Wars and the Empire, not to mention the constant flow of smugglers and thieves customary to the Outer Rim. Aliria’s Shop wouldn’t be going anywhere anytime soon. 

It was a fairly small shop, especially considering all the things packed into it. Aliria carried food, clothes, a small array of weaponry, and medical supplies. There wasn’t much in the little town, a droid mechanic, a ship mechanic, a small infirmary, and a bar. Aliria’s Shop was the hub, she had the essentials. 

The Mandalorian was like a bull in a china shop inside the store. Aliria had crammed crates, tables, and shelves into every crevice of the store. Not to mention the various pieces of merchandise hanging from the ceiling. 

“Watch it, Mandalorian!” Aliria yelled at the man as he almost hit the shelf of fruits with the huge gun on his back. She may look like a frail older woman at the age of 75, but her voice didn’t show it. Aliria’s tan skin was weathered and her body was tired, but her voice held life. She was the backbone of the community. 

The armored man let out a gruff sorry before moving on. He was looking down at his gauntlet, reading some kind of list. “Kriffing hell, how do I find anything in here?” 

“We don’t get many outsiders, Mandalorian,” she said. “But my sales associate can help you. She was an outsider once, too.”

The pitch black of his visor shifted to you. Your hair was a bit messy, as you’d just helped your co-worker unload a speeder of goods. But you smiled at him. A change of pace is always nice. You walked from behind the counter to be in front of the Mandalorian and you asked, “What are you looking for, sir?” Your customer service voice was rough, you never needed to use it with most of the customers. They knew you personally, everyone knew everyone here. 

“You got ration bars?” His voice was gruff and deep, but you couldn’t tell if that was just because of the helmet. 

“Not many,” you told him. “Maybe ten? Aliria has such good prices, no one ever needs to buy a ration bar in place of real food.” It was a sales pitch you’d been taught when training here, but it was the truth. Why pay a credit for a ration bar when you can pay a credit for instant noodles? 

He huffed a little. “I’ll take all ten.” This man was weird, you decided. “Non-perishables? Do you have any?”

“We’ve got some beans, some vegetables that won’t go bad for at least a few years, rice, and a few other things. They’re all kind of scattered around.”

“Of course they are,” he was annoyed. “Where’s the vegetables?”

You pointed through a door at the back of the shop. “Greenhouse out back. Tell me what you need, I’ll go grab it.” Reluctantly, he showed you his gauntlet. It was a grocery list. You locked the information into your mind, grabbed a basket and headed to the greenhouse. 

When you got back, he was in the same place. He must’ve seen your confusion because he said, “I’d rather not waste time looking for things myself. I figure you’d be better at it.” And you were. You helped him get everything he needed, but the list just got weirder. Baby formula, toddler sized coveralls, ammunition, a journal, and more miscellaneous items that made no sense to you. You didn’t believe a Mandalorian was going to hand write something and in a journal, no less.

You wanted to know more, but you had a feeling he wouldn’t be keen on questions. Before you’d come to Dantooine, you’d been all over the galaxy and heard stories of Mandalorians and their secrecy. 

“What brings you to Dantooine, Mando?” You ask as you ring up the last of his items, putting them in the up-cycled grain bag grocery bags. You were tired of the tense silence, Aliria had gone into the back to do Maker knows what, and the Mandalorian’s stare was unnerving. 

“Work,” he said. His visor remained unmoving, his eyes were on you. You had a feeling that ‘work’ was something either illegal or close to it. “You?”

You were surprised. And, again, he must’ve noticed. “The old lady said you are an outsider, too.”

“Was an outsider, Mando,” you correct, bringing up his total. “I came here for work, too.” He could tell you were lying, or at least not sharing the whole truth. “It’s two-hundred credits, Mando.”

He reached into a pouch on his belt, and pulled out all the credits. “That should be two-hundred.” It was. Exact change and everything. Once you’d counted the money and placed it in the register, he grabbed all his bags with ease and turned to walk out. 

“Have a nice day!” you tell him, remembering your lines Aliria insisted on. He said nothing in return.

-  

Paz Vizsla arrived back at his ship far out from the town. He put the bags of supplies for the covert in the cargo hold and cleared the message from Armorer that detailed what they needed. After the covert had to relocate, they were in desperate need of supplies. Especially for all the children who lost a buir or, Maker forbid, both buire. The children who had basically become foundlings. Paz’s heart broke for them, he tried to be the best ba’vodu, but there some things that even stories from Uncle Paz couldn’t fix. 

He’d spent the little bit of left over change from the bounty on something for each kid, even Bezza, who was old enough to be treated as an adult at seventeen. She’d lost her buire, and the least Paz could do was get her a nice, leather-bound journal that she’d been pining for. Something hard to come by in a galaxy that had moved on from physical writing. 

Paz closed the cargo hold and began moving himself towards the cockpit. He was tired, and though no one else agreed, he was getting old. Nearing 44, he was ready to just be Mr. Vizsla the teacher, Uncle Paz, and hopefully buir someday. But he was one of the Tribe’s best fighters. They needed him to keep hunting, so he did. This is the Way. 

He moved to start up the ship. It gave a groan, but lit up all the same. Paz began his takeoff procedures, but the ship wouldn’t budge. Kriff, he thought. This can’t happen. Paz Vizsla was a capable fighter, fluent in Mando’a, and a brilliant teacher, but he was no mechanic. That had always been his biggest shortcoming. I have no credits, he realized. Stuck on Dantooine with no credits. 

Dirt kicked up behind heavy boots. Hands stopped their work so heads could turn. It wasn’t often a Mandalorian showed up. But this one had now shown up twice. The awe of the townsfolk was still the same. He trudged back into Aliria’s Shop. This old woman would know someone willing to fix a ship for some food, he thought. She seems to know everything.

Except, when he walked in he was greeted by a new face. Not the saleswoman who’d helped him a few hours ago, nor was it the old woman. “How can I help you?” The boy asked. He couldn’t be more than sixteen. 

“You know anyone who’d be willing to fix a ship for a meal? Or maybe a small blaster?”

The kid shook his head. “No one around here is that desperate. I’ll go get Aliria, though. She might know someone I don’t.” The kid retreated into the back room without fully taking his eyes off Paz. 

When he returned, he had Aliria hobbling along next to him, bony hands around his arm. “Zenith says you need a mechanic? There’s a shop down the road but what he charges won’t be worth what you get,” the woman says. 

“I need someone who will work for something other than credits,” he says. “I don’t have any.”

You looked up from the datapad in the backroom. You had experience as a mechanic, you were rusty after all these years, but better than the other option, who probably learned by seeing a few pictures on the holonet. Maybe this was your ticket back out of the Outer Rim. You’d amassed enough credits to at least get an apartment for a bit until you can get work. Core Worlds always had open jobs, and you have connections. You hated to leave the little town, but it had always been the goal. You just thought it’d be many more years. 

You stepped out of the back room. “I’ll do it, Mando. I’ve got experience, I can probably fix it.” Zenith seemed surprised, but Aliria just smiled.

“I can’t pay,” he reiterated. 

You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, you’ve said. We’ll negotiate the price on the way to your ship. You got tools?” He nodded. “I’ll be back tonight, Aliria. I’ll finish up inventory then.” The old woman told you not to worry about it and shooed both of you off, ready to get back to whatever she was up to in the storage room. 

As soon as the door shut behind you, you said, “Passage to Hosnian Prime. That’s all I’m asking.”

“Hosnian Prime? Do you know how long it’s going to take me to get from Dantooine to Hosnian Prime?” He was annoyed. The ship must be having a minor issue, but you were wanting a major payment. “And so far out of my way, my home is in the Outer Rim. And I’ll have no credits to refuel.”

Now you were the annoyed one. “I’m fixing your ship, Mando. You said anything but credits. My offer is passage to Hosnian Prime for the fixing of your ship.”

“How do I know you can even fix my ship? Why aren’t you the town mechanic?”

This wasn’t something you wanted to get into. You hadn’t talked about it in so long. Not since you got to Dantooine and Aliria took you in, vowing to help you back to wherever you wanted to be. “I was done being a mechanic, Mando, that’s why.”

“So you decided to work in a dingy little shop? With the galaxy’s oldest woman?”

You felt anger grow stem from the seed of annoyance. Aliria was like your grandmother. Like the whole town’s grandmother. And here comes an outsider, insulting Aliria’s shop. Aliria’s family built that town from the ground up. And this outsider insults her. “Do not speak of Aliria or her shop like that again, Mando. Or I won’t fix your ship and you’ll be stuck on Dantooine forever.”

Paz felt bad. He’d cut too deep, he’d only meant it to be a friendly dig about your job, a job most people weren’t ever satisfied with. He’d thought you’d laugh. He’d thought wrong. You walked in silence the rest of the way. 

“This is your ship?” you asked. No wonder it wouldn’t get off the ground. “Maker, Mando, what have you put this thing through?” It was dented, covered in carbon scoring, and there were chunks of it missing. You could only guess how bad the inner workings were. 

“A few altercations,” he replied. You couldn’t see his face, but you knew he was looking at this sorry excuse for a Mandalorian’s ship with love and pride. 

You laughed a little and shook your head. “I haven’t even looked at the wiring, but I think taking me to Hosnian Prime is the absolute least you could do for the work I’m going to have to do on this thing.”

“I just need it to fly,” he told you. “Nothing fancy.”

“Mando, this thing is going to pull itself apart when you try to leave the atmosphere. I’m surprised it even made it through,” you told him. 

The ship always groaned a little when Paz asked it to do things, but it always had obeyed. Without fail. Until now, of course. “It did sound a bit...pained when I arrived.” He left out the whole being fired at by ex-Imps and the harsh landing he’d made that’d landed him here. 

“Alright, I’ll go take a look, if that’s ok? And I’ll try to tell you when I think I’ll have it done.” He nodded, and pushed a button on his gauntlet, giving you access to the ship. 

-

“Bad news and good news,” you told him as you reemerged from the ship. “Bad news is this is a piece of junk and you should replace it. Good news is I can fix it and it’ll only take a few days.”

A few days. He needed to get these things back to the covert, they needed them. “Ok,” he said. “But before I take you to Hosnian Prime, we’ll need to make a pit stop on Yavin IV. I gotta get these supplies back.” You nodded, just as long as you’d be getting to Hosnian Prime at some point. 

“I’ll get started, if that’s ok?” He nodded and you retreated back inside. The external damage wasn’t as crucial as the internal, your job was going to be rough.

It was a long, hard rest of your day. The blasted ship held the humidity of the planet tightly and your coveralls were thick. You’d brought down the top half to tie around your waist, leaving you in your tank top and bra. You caught glimpses of the Mandalorian as you moved past the port holes, and he just sat there on a rock, not moving. All day. You couldn’t imagine the heat under that armor. 

When you came out of the ship again, it was night. “I’ve made good progress. It won’t be done tomorrow, but maybe the day after. If I’m lucky, of course.” And worked almost non-stop, you silently added.

“Good,” he says. “Go home and rest, dal’ika.”

You furrowed your brow. “My name isn’t dal’ika.” 

“I know,” he said, and then he moved past you onto his ship. 

“Good night to you, too!” You called. 

- 

You walked to Aliria’s small home once you got back into town. She deserved to know your plans, you thought. She’d probably even help. 

“Ah! Dear! You’re back!” she said. “I was worried the Mandalorian would take you, but then I figured you’d comm if he’d try anything.”

You smiled. “He didn’t do much of anything. Just sat there.”

“What did you tell him your price is, dear?” 

You took a deep breath and sat on the sofa next to her. “Passage to Hosnian Prime.”

“You’re leaving?”

You nodded. “It’s time,” you said. “I have enough credits, especially since I won’t have to pay for transportation.”

“What will you do there, dear?” Aliria was worried. You were a grown woman, yes, but she felt protective. 

“Find General Organa,” you said. “See if she keeps promises.” You knew she would. She always had.

Aliria gave a bittersweet smile. “I knew you’d leave someday, but I never thought of how it would feel.” Her heart was breaking, and so was yours. This woman took you in when you showed up a mess on Dantooine, she held you during nightmares, and she helped you buy the little hut you now call your own. She gave you a job and a place in the community. “You’ll do much good on Hosnian Prime, dear. I know you will.”

You didn’t know what she meant, but somehow you believed her. “Thank you, Aliria. Thank you.” You couldn’t seem to say anything else, but it wasn’t adequate to what you were feeling. You needed a stronger phrase, but you didn’t know one.

“Take care of that Mandalorian, now,” she said, trying to be a bit more lighthearted. “I’ve always thought you’d like a warrior husband.”

You rolled your eyes. All the old women in town were like this. “He barely even talks to me and calls me dal’ika instead of my name, which he hasn’t asked for, by the way.”

“He’ll warm up to you, I’m sure. Especially if he’s got to take you from here to Hosnian Prime,” Aliria said. “You didn’t talk much when you arrived, either, remember?”

Aliria always had a way of finding the good in people, even if it was hardly there. That was rare, especially this far out in the galaxy, and you cherished it. You’d learned early on not to do that, but Aliria helped you open up more. Maybe she was right, this journey would result in a new friend.

“Ok, Ali, I will take care of the Mando,” you said. “Now I think I’m going to go home. Want to be up early tomorrow to fix his ship.”

She nodded and patted your knee. “Take the speeder bike tomorrow, it seems like a long walk.” You nodded, and placed your hand over hers for a moment. “Good night, dear. Sleep well,” she said and then she shooed you out in the way only an old lady could.

-

The next morning it was cooler outside. The trees swayed gently in the soft wind, and you became grateful for the coveralls as you picked up speed on the bike. You looked the same as you did the day before, just a little less rested. There was a little sunlight, but not much, and there were still a few nocturnal animals on the path. 

Arriving at the ship, everything was still closed up, and the big Mando nowhere in sight. You contemplated banging on the door, but before you made a decision the door lowered into a ramp and he walked out. “You’re very early, dal’ika.” 

“Told you I would be. Need all the daylight I can get.”

“Indeed.”

His gaze bore down on you again. You really took in how large he was. He had to be over six feet tall and maybe even closer to seven in the armor. A few people in town speculated that he wasn’t actually as buff as he seemed and that it was just the armor, but you doubted that. 

“I’ll go ahead and get started, if that’s ok?” 

He nodded. “You don’t have to keep asking, dal’ika.”

“That’s still not my name,” you said in a singsong voice over your shoulder as you walked up the ramp. He walked over towards some of the denser areas of trees.

You tried to watch him as discreetly as possible through one of the port holes, but you had a suspicion that, somehow, he could tell you were watching. He walked over some of the logs of fallen trees that had piled up towards the edge of the clearing. He picked two large ones, one in each arm, and set them upright. Then, he placed the large stones on the top of and behind them to keep them standing. 

He retreated a few yards, and his hands slid down to his thighs. He brought two blasters back up. Ah, you thought. Target practice. 

As much as you knew you needed to begin your day’s work, you stood at the port hole and watched him fire blast after blast, and you knew he hit each spot he intended to. He moved back farther, fired some more, and then moved off at angles. You never thought you’d be attracted to a man whose face you’d never seen and name you didn’t know, but here you are. 

Finally, you tore your gaze from the beskar-covered man and began your work, getting the tool box from where you’d left it yesterday. 

-

It was noon when you walked down the ramp again. The Mandalorian had finished his shooting hours ago, and had now shed his shin and thigh armor, along with the heavy cannon he carried on his back. He was already looking at you when you stepped into the doorway. 

“Need something, dal’ika?” 

You shook your head. “Lunch time, Mando.” You pulled some kind of bar out of your pocket. “It’s got meiloorun filling,” you brag. 

“Sounds good,” he said, a little amused at what you considered something to brag about. 

You sat down on the rock opposite him. “You want one? I’ve got an extra.”

“No, thank you, dal’ika,” he replied. 

You sunk your teeth into the grain and meiloorun bar, chewed, and swallowed. “What language even is that?”

“Mando’a,” he said. “The language of my people.”

“The Mandalorians?” You ask dumbly.

He let out a chuckle, it was small, but the vocoder processed it. “Yes, dal’ika, but I thought that was obvious.”

“What’s that mean? That word you’re calling me?”

He contemplated for a moment, but finally told you. “Dal’ika means woman in Mando’a. Well, dala means woman. The ‘ika bit just means it's a nickname. It implies that you’re, well, small. It’s used for kids a lot but also for friends.” He regretted saying that, in case you found it insulting or weird. He quickly moved on. “And I definitely consider you more than an acquaintance, especially since we’ll be spending some time together.”

You looked at him. You’d never thought of yourself as small. “Well, that’s good to hear. And I think everyone is small next to you, Mando.”

He laughed again, and you took another bite. “I suppose so. What is your actual name?” You tell him, and he nods. “I can call you that, if you’d like?”

“Dal’ika is fine,” you say. You’d never really had a nickname before. “But you can call me my name, too, if you want.”

“Ok, dal’ika,” he said. “Where are you from?”

You looked at him. Why all the questions? You briefly thought of home, but closed your eyes. “Rather not say.”

He nodded, understanding. “I’m sorry that I keep saying the wrong things. I really should know better, considering I don’t like too many questions, either.”

“It’s ok, it’s not like you know what will strike a cord,” you tell him. You hurriedly finished your lunch, eager to get back on the ship in case memories of home flooded back into your mind and tears flooded your eyes. “Well, I’m off,” you say, standing awkwardly and walking back to the ship, leaving the Mando by himself again. 

You sat on the floor of the ship, one of the flooring panels removed, working on some wiring. In the back of your mind you saw your childhood home, the mountain peaks you could see from the backyard, and the neighbor kids that you’d played with every day after school. You remembered leaving. You remembered never being able to go back. 

Your hands are still in the wire compartment in the floor. You took a deep breath, closed your eyes, and smiled to yourself. Aliria always said smiling makes you feel better. It worked, and your hands began moving again, replacing and connecting wires.

-

Again, it was nightfall when you came out of the ship. The Mandalorian had all his armor on again, and he stood as you emerged. “I should’ve walked you home last night, dal’ika. It was dark when you left, I’m sorry for not offering.”

You felt your heart swell a little. He was a gentle giant, you decided. “Thank you, Mando, but I can take care of myself. Besides, it’s not like there’s dangerous people here.”

“Still,” he insisted. “I should have.”

You gave up and replied, “That would’ve been a kind gesture. I would take you up on the offer tonight, but Aliria lent me her speeder, so I don’t need an escort today.”

“As you wish,” he replied. “Just be careful, dal’ika. Hosnian Prime awaits.” He walked past you and onto the ship, just like he had the night before. 

-

The next day was almost the same, except you had to walk. Aliria needed the speeder for Zenith and supplies he was picking up from a nearby farm, but apart from that, everything was the same. You made small talk with the Mandalorian over your lunch (a star fruit bar today), and  watched him shoot his blasters from afar. You got a lot of work done today, most of the hard stuff was finished and now just needed some tweaking. You moved on to the exterior of the ship a few hours before nightfall. 

“Dal’ika,” he said as you started working on the exterior. “Only do what you absolutely need to on the outside. I’d hate to see your hard work go to waste when I get into another altercation.” 

You nodded, but replied, “I hope you don’t plan on getting into one of your altercations while I’m aboard.”

“Well, I never really plan on them, but I’ll be extra careful if it makes you feel better,” he told you. 

You smiled. “It does.”

“It’s going to get dark soon,” he said.

You nodded, opening one of the exterior panels and examining it. “I know. I just have a few more things,” you assured him. “And then I’ll take you up on your offer to walk me home.” You turned your head towards him and smiled, but what you didn’t know was that your smile brought the slightest blush to his cheeks. 

Paz sat back down on his rock while you worked on the exterior. He thought about the smile you’d given him, how you weren’t afraid of him. There’s something more to this one, he thought. Something’s made her tough, and it wasn’t this village.

Finally, you finished. “Alright,” you told the Mando as you exited the ship after putting the tools up. “It should fly, but we can test that tomorrow. For now, I need to go home.”

He nodded and stood from the rock. “Lead the way, mechanic,” he said. 

You walked a pace or two in front of him, even though he didn’t really need to be led to the town. It wasn’t like there were many of those around here, but he let you, and you rambled about the place with pride. About Aliria with pride. 

After a few beats of silence, he spoke up. “May I ask what’s on Hosnian Prime? If you don’t want to answer, just tell me.”

“An old friend,” you said and looked back at him again. This smile was different, he noticed, but he wasn’t sure how. “I haven’t seen her in a long time, but I know she still cares.” You were telling him the truth, so why did you feel like you were lying? He didn’t need to know that General Organa was the friend or why you knew her. But you almost wanted him to know. Still, you held back. 

“Oh,” he said. “Sounds nice. I’ve heard good things about Hosnian Prime.” Truthfully, he hadn’t heard anything about Hosnian Prime except that it was the new capital of the New Republic. 

“I have, too,” you agreed. “What about you? What’s on Yavin IV?”

“Family,” he said. He was telling the truth, so why did he feel like he was lying? And why was he trusting you with the planet of the covert? 

You nodded. “I figured, with all the baby stuff you bought. Is your wife a Mandalorian, too? I heard Mandos can only marry Mandos.”

He was shocked a little, forgetting that you didn’t know much about his culture. “No, I don’t have a wife. Or kids of my own. My Tribe is my family, and there are kids in the Tribe. They’re just not mine.”

“Oh, interesting,” you said, kicking a rock in front of you. You were surprised to find yourself relieved that he did not have a wife. “So, like, can you only marry inside your tribe?”

“No, dal’ika,” he laughed. “We’d end up with some interesting children if we kept it in the tribe. Some people marry within the tribe, some never marry, and others marry outsiders.” He didn’t really know how accurate his answer was. Maybe, in big tribes, people did just marry in the tribe. But the covert he belonged to was too small for that. 

You kicked the rock again as you arrived at the place it had landed. “Huh,” you said. “Guess I never thought about that.” 

“We prefer people not think about us at all,” he replied. His tone was solemn when he said this, and you instinctively placed a hand on his armored arm to comfort him. The Mandalorian was brought to a blush under his helmet again. Maker, he thought. How’s she doing this to me?

You walked into the town in comfortable silence, your arm now wrapped around his, fingers lightly rubbing the armor. It was meant as a soothing technique, but you doubt he could feel it under the layers of metal and cloth. Eventually, you neared your home. “That one’s mine,” you pointed. The house’s door was painted blue, and your flowerbed was filled with blue flowers. 

“Your house matches my armor, kebiin’ika,” he said.

A new nickname. “What’s that mean?”

“Kebiin is blue. And, you know, ‘ika is ‘small’ and an endearment.” 

“Little blue?” You ask.

He nodded. “Ding, ding, ding,” he said. “You’d pick up Mando’a quickly, I think.” You smiled at him, you spoke Basic and Huttese already, why not learn a third? He smiled back, though all you could see was metal and visor. “Are we leaving tomorrow?” 

“Yes, I think that’d be good. Tomorrow after lunch, maybe? I’ve got to pack up my stuff and say good-bye to everyone.” He nodded. He’d forgotten that you’re leaving your life behind. “I don’t have much stuff, by the way, so don’t worry about that.”

He chuckled again. “Even if you did, I wouldn’t worry. We’d find the space.” There was a warmth in his voice that made your whole body warm. You could tell he cared about the people close to him deeply if he cared about a stranger like this.

You unlocked your door and stepped inside. You weren’t expecting a good night, as you had no reason to, but you did stop yourself from closing the door all the way.

You looked up at him through the half-open blue door. “Thank you,” you said quietly. “For walking me home. It’s very kind.”

“You deserve kindness, Y/N,” he replies, as if it was painfully obvious. Then, you realized he said your name. Your real name, not some Mandalorian nickname. 

You smiled again, your lips were beginning to hurt but your face wouldn’t let you stop. “Will I ever get to know your name, Mando?”

“Someday.”

[albatris]

ok ok alriiiight ok so the plot of ATDAO

this post is not, like........... well, it’s not gonna be a blurb or a summary or a nice neat synopsis, this is not Professional Writeblr Business, this is, this is, uhhhh

this is like drunk house party logan rambles

works best if you imagine ur just like “hey man how’s it going” super casual and I grasp you firmly by the shoulders and look you dead in the eye and just ramble all of this without taking a single breath

could I have explained in a nice neat concise "elevator pitch" sort of way? probably. mind ur business. that’s not how we do things here at albatris.org

anyway the purpose of this post is “hey people seem to know a lot about the characters and the worldbuilding and the premise but have no clue what happens in the actual story” so I’m not going to be talking about said characters and worldbuilding and premise in depth

in terms of rambles, that stuff’s been covered! this post assumes you know what Ports are, n what the nature of the ATDAO apocalypse is, vaguely what the MCs are like as people......... though I can fetch this info for you if you like

but yeah if you are coming into this post with zero prior ATDAO knowledge........... deeply deeply from the bottom of my heart: sorry

also if this is your first time experiencing One Of These Rambles

also @safe-in-the-steep-cliffs​ and @siarven​ I am tagging you because you said you would like to be tagged and also hi and also I hope y’all knew what you were in for

anyway without further ado

(visual representation of my approach to this rant, not of how complicated my plot actually is)

(my plot is not that complicated)

ALRIGHT

there are two viewpoint characters! and two plotlines which converge near the end of the story, but honestly there’s a very real possibility I will decide these are two separate books meant as companion stories to each other because I love making things difficult for myself yeehaw

ATDAO’s co-protags are Tris and Noa, best buds four years and counting. their friendship is one of the single most important aspects of the story, n the ongoing love and trust they have for each other despite the way unfolding events force their relationship to change is integral to the themes and making the heart of the story what it is. I will now proceed to not mention this friendship for the entire remainder of this post. they’re bros. that’s all u need to know. listen. listen. I have a lot to cover

so yeah, ur first key player is Tris Greer, whose parents are dicks but whose siblings are chill. most notably of said siblings there is Jacob, older brother by thirteen years, whom Tris believes is just about the coolest person on the entire planet. this plotline kicks off when Jacob gets caught in the midst of a freak car accident that kills a dude and wrecks a street corner and also somehow causes Jacob to just kind of................. blip out of existence entirely and without a trace?

n Tris is understandably horrified and distressed by Very Much All Of This, but hey, at least there are responsible adults who can look into this obviously Port-related weird disappearance and figure this mess out, right?

INCORRECT

the relevant interdimensional authorities are brought in to suss out the situation and these authorities are kind of like “hmmmm idk about this” but are all set to take Tris at least somewhat seriously until they learn the following:

that Jacob had already been reported missing to police in his home state three days earlier

that Jacob was in the midst of several ongoing personal crises and at least one nervous breakdown

that Jacob was allegedly tangled up in some real weird shit that would more than account for a disappearance under suspicious circumstances

that Tris is schizophrenic, prone to hallucinations, confusion, memory issues and quote unquote “letting his imagination and anxiety get the better of him”, and precisely zero people can actually corroborate his story that Jacob was even there are the time of the accident to begin with

and after some back-and-forth and Looking Into The Evidence pretty much everyone in any position of authority comes to the conclusion that this is just Ordinary Regular People Crimes and whatever happened to Jacob had nothing to do with weird apocalyptic energies, and that Tris is (at best) stressed out and delusional or (at worst) lying through his teeth because he knows more than he’s letting on

so Tris is forced to hop pretty quick from “I’m sure someone will handle this” to “no one believes me but I’m sure if I can find some concrete proof they’ll listen and someone will handle it” to Well Fuck I Guess That Someone Is Me

cue bizarre reality-hopping fantasy quest, which is ten times easier said than done when most of the time Tris is terrified enough just, like, going to the supermarket

he enlists the help of his new classmate Shara, amateur paranormal investigator and professional weird-bullshit enthusiast, who agrees to help him puzzle out what the fuck happened to Jacob in exchange for his assistance in mapping out Adelaide’s interdimensional “fault lines” as part of her ongoing quest to track down the source of the apocalypse

she’s got big fuckin dreams, ok, go hard or go home

slso worth noting at this point that there HAS been an uptick in Ports and their related reality-bending strangeness in Adelaide recently which is why this is of particular interest to her currently. gotta find out What Makes The Weirdness Tick, gotta find out Why The Sudden Extra Weirdness

..........and also Kai is there

Kai has no nice neat reason to get involved with the plot, Kai just likes drama and being all up in people’s personal business. Tris brings them on board for one single afternoon like “hey I will pay you some money to come to my house and fix my fucked up phone so I can listen to an interdimensional voicemail” but forgot the apparently key addendum “and then leave”

their first three chapters of knowing each other is basically Tris being like “stop inviting yourself into my house we are not friends” and Kai being like “that’s a rude thing to say to your friend. also your sister gave me the netflix password and I used your kitchen to bake pastries feel free to help yourself”

but yeah so Tris’s story mostly focuses on his quest to figure out where Jacob got yeeted to and how to get him safely home (y’all probably know a bit about The Unreality already maybe?), whilst also dealing with rising family tensions, whatever shifty stuff Jacob was involved with prior to his disappearance, and his own creeping doubts about his perceptions of reality

n I’m also saying flat out it’s not a plot that’s going the “oh the whole thing was just a delusion all along” route because ew

his psychosis is a fairly involved part of his character but the explorations around it are more to do with, like......... the difficulties he has in trusting himself and whether he has the luxury of letting himself get swept into some Big Weird Implausible Adventure when this has extremely different implications for him than it would someone else. n eventually to how his success and survival is not ~in spite of~ but specifically because of the different way he understands and interprets the world and the skills he’s developed

THAT TANGENT WAS A PERSONAL RANT IT WAS NOT RELEVANT I just have words to say on the subject of how psychosis is treated in fiction and didn’t want people jumping to the “none of it is real” conclusion anyway ok moving on

ur SECOND key player is Noa Yun, who has rather a lot on her plate right now. she’s broke as fuck and her mum is sick and her car is making Noises and she’s not getting enough hours at her job at Not-IKEA and everyone is on her back about her failing studies as if that’s a thing she has the energy to care about. feeling rather backed into a corner by life’s bullshit and her financial situation, she blatantly lies her way into a field job at the Department of Interdimensional Instabilities, because A) surely it can’t be THAT bad, and B) what does she have to lose?

so more or less what she’s doing is the equivalent of emergency services for Port-related weirdness, it’s going out and dealing with highly unstable otherworldly energies head on, navigating Weird Phenomena and bendy patches in reality......... it is, among other things, a job that’s relatively easy to get into because no one wants to touch it with a ten foot pole unless they absolutely have to

n the DII is a whole other post, this shit has lots of different functions and levels and branches and corruption and secrets and a tendency to view workers who have to go out and deal with the brunt of the apocalypse head-on as vaguely expendable and I’ve talked about it a bit before and in more Serious Words

things kinda kick off for her when in true Noa fashion she hurls herself into a dangerous situation to help out a coworker, n enters a pretty standard issue “overlap” where the barriers between universes are a little fucky, but hey, she seems to come out of it with nary a scratch, so it’s reasonable to assume everything is fine, right?

INCORRECT AGAIN

she basically gets some whacked-out otherworldly energies latched onto her that are now following her through her everyday life, and it turns out she’s starting to bend the reality around her the way certain types of Ports do, which is! obviously not ideal! she’s not exactly a Port herself, because she’s pretty sure that’s impossible, but it’s clear capital s Something happened to her in that overlap, and she doubts it’s good news. and to make matters even more disconcerting, she’s now being dogged at every step by strange visions of a child who speaks in an unfamiliar language and who seems Real Fuckin Pissed at her

so her thing is basically “I acquired fucked up reality-bending powers against my will and they might be lowkey killing me ‘cause Ports are notoriously unstable like that and also I’m haunted for some godforsaken reason” which all somehow ended up being, like, the least interesting part of her plotline for me lmao

oh and Noa also enlists the help of Shara, Because Ghosts

anyway yeah so her search to find out what’s happening to her re: Weird Children, being a Port-adjacent something-or-other, and whether there’s a way to stop her own unravelling leads her to (rogue computer programmer? mad scientist? general shifty bastard?) Laurence Marrick Thiele, who claims to have suffered a similar affliction in the past and now does some real interesting research on the subject. n this guy. well. he’s got some fuckin stuff going on

he definitely knows more about the nature of Ports than he should. also is he actually researching what he says he’s researching? also what’s with all the weird tech? also did he just straight up murder that guy Avery? all will be revealed later, maybe, if I feel like it

but yeah at about the same time as Noa goes “actually fuck this you’re shady as hell I’m out” she stumbles into, like, The Actual Reality of what Marrick is up to re: manipulating Ports and interdimensional doorways for his own gain, and the various ways this spells bad news not only for her but potentially for the entire city and anyone unfortunate enough to get caught in the crossfire, and she shifts gear to “actually you know what I’m gonna kick your ass”

there are various reasons for this, but first and foremosterly you have to understand that Noa’s got a fuckload of pent-up rage and she will bring it in full force the moment you say some stupid shit like “some people are expendable” or “it’s inevitable for the greater good”

(there’s also a fun ongoing subplot with her work at the DII where she and her team are investigating a string of strange illnesses with bizarre symptoms that appear to be spreading via obscure radio stations so that’s. happening. I guess?)

but yeah the main story here mostly follows Noa’s attempts to undermine Marrick, bastard supreme, and find a way to fuck him up before he goes, like, Full Cartoon Supervillain, n also like........... her attempts to keep up her work at the DII despite her rising paranoia that the teammates she’s growing to care about will notice her increasingly unstable state and the fact that she’s all tangled up with the very forces they’re meant to be thwarting. n along the way discovering the reality of what happened to her in The Aforementioned Overlap Incident and about her visions and such

so that’s all that. did that make sense

n she’s got a whole arc going on about trust and learning to lean on others, like, she comes into this story as a very standoffish person with lots of paranoia, she’s spent much of her life feeling like she can only rely on herself, n she’s. well. yeah, like I said, she’s got a lot of anger at the world and at the various systems that have failed her and her loved ones, n the story puts her in a position to become even more isolated

and her plotline isn’t so much “you have no reason to be angry or afraid” or her learning to Not Be, It’s more, like........... yeah you have every fucking right to be furious and of course you’re afraid! but there are people around you who love you and who will jump at the chance to defend you and who will help you carry the weight of your anger and grief and none of this needs to be yours to bear alone which is extremely cheesy

which applies to both her Weird Supernatural Goings-On as well as her regular ordinary life goings-on

I feel like Alice and Jet deserve a mention for Noa’s plotline but also this went on and on too long already so. well. Alice and Jet exist! yep. they work with Noa at the DII. I have things to say about them. I will not be saying them today

and uhhhhhh

in general, for Tris, his plotline, you wanna think, like, fantasy/adventure vibes which veer pretty sharply into horror, and for Noa you wanna think...... kinda, sci-fi mystery conspiracy vibes with a dash of some superhero bullshit maybe except not really

and that

pretty much is it I think

also the fact that Kai just invites themself into the plot for funsies and then is dragged kicking and screaming into caring about themself and making positive changes in their life means there was no convenient place in this post to be like

"oh there's also a whole major subplot about a time loop"

but there's also a whole major subplot about a time loop

goodnight! thanks for coming to....................... whatever this was! have a nice saturday everyone

[chaosride]

A Divine Appointment (x7)

Chapter One

“Anyone who does anything to help a child is a hero to me.” — Fred Rogers

Anders had always been good with children. Even when he was younger, before the Circle, the other village kids had adored him. Sometimes he would see his mother watch him with sad eyes as he carried around whichever smaller kid had requested it. He hadn’t understood until after the last time he would see her that she was sad he was an only child, that she hadn’t been able to give him siblings to dote on or his father the gaggle of children he wanted.

For the first few months of being at the Circle, the other children all avoided him. Before, it would have been something he would have tried to rectify. Especially some of the younger children who clung to the robes of older apprentice mages who clearly didn’t have the patience for them. But at that time he didn’t want to talk to anyone ever again; childishly he had sworn that if they took his freedom, they took his voice too. After his first escape, which earned him a good whipping and a relatively short stay of three weeks in solitary, the younger children had become something of a balm to him. They were trapped here, same as he was, and he could protect them in some small measure while he was there. Every escape after they clambered into his bunk with their blankets and demanded to know the details.

When Anders returned from his year-long stay in solitary many of them were gone and the ones who remained were older in ways he wished he didn’t understand. One of the templars who had escorted him to his personal worst nightmare had taunted him that it was a shame that no one had been around to mind the younger mages while he was away, though the nasty smirk on his face said he thought the opposite. Anders knew that they had taken it out on the children in his place, and any hurts were his fault. He wished he had never started speaking again sometimes.

The children were sometimes the only reason Anders lit the lantern and opened the clinic. The adult refugees of Darktown were able to look after themselves for a day, but the urchins that littered Kirkwall’s underbelly couldn’t. Often there was a pack or two that came by per day, bringing this friend or that sibling who had gotten hurt doing jobs they shouldn’t have to in order to survive. He steadfastly ignored Lirene’s chiding to stop giving all his food away to them; he could figure something out, he was an adult.

Besides that, they had saved his life more than once in a variety of ways. Between warnings about templar patrols, acting as distractions, and fetching aid when he needed it, Anders would have been dead ten times over. Even so he was careful to keep them at arm's length, for their sakes. He had learned from the children he cared for in the Circle and from Karl, he was a dangerous person to love. They deserved that fate even less than they deserved to be living on the streets.

Every week saw a wash of new faces mixed with familiar ones, as well as a lack of others. Some of the groups move on to different cities, but many of them are lost to the grisly beast that is Kirkwall. Though he sees children every day it is rarely the same group within a week if not better when Anders first came to the city. They came to him with teary eyes and gingerly cradled wounds, ate his food and then left again.

Sometime after they returned from the Deep Roads, that changed but only with one group of children. They had a decent number to their little family, and Anders had never seen less than four of them together. They had started setting up near the clinic at night, and he had noticed them a few times coming back late from drinks or whatever fights Hawke had gotten them into that day. He remembered thinking that the youngest of them were no more than babies, still toddlers and hoping that they found a safer place to spend their nights soon.

The first time the children came by, it was before the clinic had actually opened for the day. Anders had been up boiling bandages and washing what few linens he had for the cots. The knock at the door had been so soft that he figured it was a breeze rattling the flimsy door in its frame. If it hadn’t been so quiet, he might not have realized they were out there, but the soft sound of whispers bleeding through the door caught his attention. The second knock was louder and more deliberate.

It took Anders a moment to wipe his hands off and get to the door. When he opened it there was a huddle of kids towards the stairs, having obviously decided Anders wasn’t going to answer.

“What are we supposed to do now?” One of them, a young elven girl, whispered. “Why isn’t anyone answering?”

“It’s early Bree, most people aren’t up yet. We’ll have to find someone else or wait for Delilah,” a dwarven boy answered her.

“But it’s an emergency, Cat’s really sick. Why close at night, emergencies happen at night too. What are you supposed to do?”

“Everyone has to sleep sometime. And you just have to survive and get help as soon as you can.”

Anders stepped out of the clinic towards them.

“Someone’s sick?” Anders called to them when they backed away from him in tandem. “I’m a healer, I can help,” he soothed and held his hands up.

The girl who had been speaking before turned towards him, her little face hopeful.

“You’ll help Cat?”

“I’ll do everything I can,” Anders assured her. “What’s wrong?”

“She had a fever last night but now it’s worse and she was coughing and won’t eat or drink,” the girl told him all in one breath. She went to step closer but the boy held her back. He regarded Anders with distrusting eyes.

“What do you charge for healing?” He asked Anders carefully.

“Nothing, I run a free clinic, it doesn’t cost any money. It sounds like she may have caught that bug that’s going around, I have herbs to help with fever. Come in, let me take a look at her.”

“If we don’t have to pay in coin, what do we have to do in return?” The boy didn’t move closer and didn’t release the girl who had spoken.

“It’s free, you don’t have to do anything in return.”

“Nothing's free,” the boy said with chilling certainty.

“Not much in life is," Anders agreed, "but this is. If you want me to help, come in and let me take a look.”

“We can… we can leave the door open? And leave anytime we want?”

“Of course.”

Finally the boy nodded and stepped forward. He and the other children followed Anders into the clinic. In total there were five children, including the sick toddler the oldest girl was carrying. The dwarven boy was wary, and made Anders eat from the food he offered them to prove it wasn’t poisoned. The oldest girl, Rosalyn was elven as well, tall and waifish. She watched him with sharp eyes as the other toddler, a boy who looked startlingly like the sick girl, sat in her lap. Bree, the other elven girl, had none of the learned paranoia her companions did and followed Anders around the clinic, asking him about what he was doing and if she could help. Anders let her help with small things like linens and rolling bandages. The herbs he gave to Cat helped lower her fever and he sent another piece of bread for the girl to have when she woke up with them when they left.

Like all the children before, they left once he had healed them and Anders figured they too would eventually stop coming around.

They didn’t. After that they came by for healing every now and then, but they all recognized Anders as he went through Darktown. Bree waved enthusiastically usually, and more than once little Cat and her twin brother Cahir ran to him to be picked up. Slowly even Tanner, the cautious dwarven boy, warmed up to Anders.

It was the early hours of the morning when Anders led Hawke, Varric, Fenris and Isabela towards the clinic. Isabela had taken a bad hit to the head and Anders had healed her as well as he could before the finally began the long trek home and to the clinic where he can treat her more comprehensively. There was a potion that would help with the concussion and a lyrium potion that would give Anders the juice he needed to finish fixing the damage.

“Mage,” Fenris called to him from where he had rounded the corner to the clinic. “There are children gathered at your door.”

“Huh?” Anders said, looking at the elf. He and Hawke were supporting Isabela to help her walk and when they rounded the corner together he saw what Fenris was talking about.

There were in fact children huddled against the door to his clinic. As they drew closer, Bree broke from the group and ran to him, her little face alarmed. She was already speaking when she reached their little group, nearly wailing from how distraught she was.

“-and you’ll help, won’t you healer?” she gasped out, and Anders felt bad that all he had understood was the end of her tirade. He was still carefully sliding Isabela’s weight to Hawke when Fenris stepped forward and elegantly knelt to be on the girl’s level.

“It’s okay,” he told her, “tell us what’s wrong and we will help,” the warrior assured the girl.

“Raelnor got hurt really bad today, he’s been working at the dock, his arm’s bent all wrong and he can’t move his fingers, and then he just said it hurt real bad and fell over and we can’t wake him up,” she told him, her breath still hitching with tears.

“I can help him, sweetheart, go with Fenris and help get him into the clinic, alright?”

She nodded. Fenris shot Anders a look over his shoulder, likely for the mage  daring to tell him what to do, but he said nothing and allowed Bree to lead him to the clinic with one small hand carefully holding his gauntleted hand. Anders watched as Fenris bent his head to speak to her ahead of them and as he helped them carry a new boy Anders had never seen before inside to a cot. The sight of the elf swarmed by curious children made something in Anders’ chest ache like there was a festering wound behind his breastbone.

Once Isabela had been healed and given a potion to help her headache, she helped keep the children entertained while Anders healed Raelnor. Tanner had given them all distrustful looks when they pulled the door shut and locked it but once he saw how Anders’ hands glowed with magic as he prepared to heal Raelnor he seemed to understand.

Raelnor was older and the children called him their brother despite how much darker his coloring was than any of the rest of them. Tanner and Bree could perhaps have passed as his siblings with their dark hair if Bree had not been an elf and Tanner a dwarf. Neither Rosalyn, with her almost white blonde hair, pointed ears and pale skin, nor the twins, with their red curly hair, had any resemblance to the rest. Regardless they were clearly a family unit, a package deal.

From what Anders could gather when he asked them about the accident, Raelnor had been working on the docks to make money for them and had come back late the night before with twice the usual pay and a shattered arm. Once Raelnor himself actually woke up, he was reluctant to say more on what had happened.

“A crate fell when we were unloading our last shipment of the day and my boss gave me extra money to see a healer.”

“But you didn’t?”

“We needed the money, and everyone I tried to see charged more than I could afford,” he had ground out and refused to look at them. “Thank you for healing me, how much do I owe you?”

“Nothing,” Anders told him. “Come to me as soon as possible next time, I’ll heal you free of charge every time.”

It was true for him and the children because it was true for everyone. If Anders could help someone he would, but even if he did charge the healer wouldn’t have been able to accept a single cent from children. He had become a healer because he wanted to help people, not because he wanted coin or thanks.

“Yeah, I will,” Raelnor lied, still looking at his hands in his lap.

“Be careful with that arm, it will still be prone to rebreaks even with healing. You broke it pretty badly,” Anders cautioned him. “Just a moment, I’ll get you something to help with the pain, it will ache for a while still.”

Anders ended up sending them with several pain relieving potions and a basket with most of the food he had just bought for himself. He tried to ignore Fenris’ eyes on him, knowing the other man likely thought him a sucker for giving away so much of his food.

“Well, this has all been very exciting but Bianca and I are going home. I’ll see you all tomorrow. Late afternoon at the earliest, Hawke ,” Varric said. He stretched his stocky arms above his head and rolled his shoulders.

“I hear you, I’ll avoid early morning emergencies to the best of my ability,” Hawke replied.

“Greatly appreciated, Chuckles.”

Anders went about setting the clinic to right for the morning, half listening as the others said their goodbyes and distractedly bidding them farewell as they ambled out of the clinic and back into the night. It was only because he looked up to check if they had shut the door behind them that he realized that Fenris had lingered.

“Mage…” Fenris began before trailing off as he struggled to say what was on his mind.

“You think it’s stupid for me to give them so much?” Anders guessed. He had heard others say that about the children he fed.

“No. I think how someone treats the most defenseless among us speaks to their character. I was going to say that I’m glad they knew to come to you for healing. Have a good evening Anders,” the warrior said before turning and leaving. He shut the door firmly behind him, leaving Anders stunned in his wake.

After that, the younger children became something of a fixture in the clinic when it was open. Anders would often open the door in the morning to find them in a puppy pile beneath the lantern, waiting for the clinic to open for the day after Raelnor had gone to work.

Anders learned they had one other older sister, a young woman named Delilah who worked at the Rose most nights. She came by once or twice to try and give Anders food in payment for healing Raelnor, who became a regular patient in the early hours of the morning.

He tried not to worry about them the nights that he spent away from the clinic with Hawke; they weren’t his children, he had no claim over them. If he got too attached, it would only end in tears as it always had before.

That was until they came to find him somewhere besides the clinic.

They had spent a long, hot day assisting Aveline with some slavers out on the Wounded Coast. Once they had returned to Kirkwall they had all agreed to retire to the Hanged Man for their weekly round of Wicked Grace. Not everyone in their rag tag band was able to make it every week, but they had a decent crowd that night. Only missing Merril and Sebastian, the elf busy with some research she was doing and Sebastian with something for the Chantry.

Isabela was just laying her winning hand down for their fourth round of the night with a thwip and flourish of her hand when Norah gave her normal brisk two raps on the door before it swung open.

“Ah, Norah, you don’t have to bring our drinks to us,” Varric said with a grin at the woman. She rolled her eyes at him.

“You can come get your drinks like everyone else unless you order food, Varric. Actually, I came up because there are kids here asking after your healer, tried to tell them this wasn’t the place for little ones but they’re insistent,” she informed them before turning away and leaving.

A cluster of familiar young faces tumbled through the door and Anders rose to his feet immediately, his heart in his throat. A headcount showed that all five of the younger kids were there, though Raelnor wasn’t with them despite how late it was.

“Mage, it would appear your children are here,” Fenris drawled even as Anders lumbered to his feet.

The healer was exhausted, his mana drained, and he had been looking forward to cards. Could just tell them it’s not clinic hours, Anders considered for a split moment. He had already cast the idea aside when Justice chided him for it.

The trust of children is precious, and they have sought you out. Help them, Anders. The spirit urged.

As Anders rounded the table to come closer, little Cat broke free from where she and Cahir were clinging to Rosalyn’s leg. She wobbled towards him, her arms held out expectantly. Anders scooped her up before she could fall without thinking, and tried to ignore how familiar of a weight she was on his hip. She was warm against his side and wound her arms trustingly around his neck.

“We’re really sorry, healer, it’s just- you weren’t at the clinic and Miss Lirene said you may be here,” Rosalyn said quietly. It was the most he had heard the blonde elf girl speak all at once. “Rae is hurt really bad. He just said that his chest hurt, and he was coughing up blood. Please,” she sniffled. Anders didn’t let her say anything more.

“Where is he? Take me to him, love.”

He was already following them down the stairs, Cat still clinging to him like a limpet, when he heard Aveline’s and Isabela’s voices.

“I didn’t realize Anders had kids,” Aveline sounded surprised.

“I don’t think he was aware either,” Isabela laughed. “Looks like we can go ahead and pack it up, big girl. Looks like we lost the rest of our competition to them as well.”

Anders glanced back over his shoulder in confusion at her last statement to see Marian, Varric and Fenris following after him. Isabela and Aveline appear at the top of the stairs together.

“Now this I have to see,” Aveline said. She sounded much too pleased about it.

“It is all rather darling,” Isabela agreed.

They spill out into the dark streets and Anders almost laughed at the sight they must have made; three grown men, three grown women, and a veritable crowd of chattering children.

Rosalyn shifted Cahir in her arms as Tanner told them that Raelnor was still in Darktown. The boy reached for Fenris with a hesitant look on his face even as he leaned nearly completely out of his sister’s grip seeking him. The warrior looked startled and Rosalyn bounced Cahir.

“Sorry,” she said quickly, “he normally doesn’t want anyone to hold him, I don’t know what’s gotten into him.”

“I can’t carry him wearing my gauntlets, I don’t want them to hurt him,” Fenris said.

Anders realized all of his friends had put their armor and weapons back to rights before following them and Fenris had his staff on his back with his own greatsword.

Rosalyn nodded, pulled Cahir closer to herself and stepped farther from the elf. “So give me a moment to remove them and then I will take him,” Fenris finished.

“Oh, you don’t have to-”

“It is no trouble.”

The girl watched with sharp eyes as Fenris stripped his spiked gauntlets off and tied them to hang from his pouch, still within quick reach. Once he was ready she stepped closer and this time when Cahir reached for him, Fenris met him and lifted the boy into his arms. One of Cahir’s small hands curled around the jutting edge of the breastplate of Fenris’ armor.

Anders forced himself to look away from the display and hoped if anyone saw his stare it hadn’t been as transparently fond as he feared it had been. From the look Varric gave him, Anders had no such luck.

They make their way unscathed through Lowtown and into Darktown. Perhaps because even criminals didn’t want to attack children but more likely it was due to luck and how well all of them were known for their fighting prowess. Raelnor was in their cramped little camp set up against one of the walls. Anders had noticed that the group was moving every night a little closer to the clinic; at the rate they are going, they will take to camping outside his front door by month's end.

The boy was pale, his skin clammy and cool to the touch when Anders carefully brushed fingers against his cheek. From how tense he was, Raelnor was conscious if barely. His breath whistled and gurgled in a concerning way, and his teeth were pink with blood.  He settled beside him and scanned him with trained eyes, assessing the possible causes. Anders was just preparing to start casting diagnostic spells to see if it is a rib puncturing the boy’s lung like he thought when Fenris touched his shoulder.

“Anders,” he said his name carefully. “It is too open here, people are watching.”

Anders scanned the refugees littered around them. He knew many of their faces but not all of them. He swallowed and nodded. The clinic isn’t far but they can’t risk jostling Raelnor too much by carrying him if it is a broken rib.

“We can put together a makeshift stretcher,” Aveline said. “There are beams we can use over this way and we can fix them to the blanket he’s on.”

Under her direction, they find pieces of wood long and sturdy enough to fit their needs. They secure the blanket to it and test it to ensure it will hold. Hawke and Aveline waved Fenris and Anders off when they tried to put the twins down.

“Get the rest of your kids into the clinic, we got him,” Hawke told them. Her grin said that she would not soon be letting this go. Anders decided any teasing was well worth it as he held Cat closer to him and let Bree take his hand to drag him towards the clinic.

He could almost imagine he was someone else, somewhere else for a few moments as he listened to Tanner and Rosalyn ask Fenris questions, followed by the warrior's deep voice answering. As if they were just a family returning home after a day at the market as he fumbled, shifting the toddler in his arms in order to retrieve the key to get the door unlocked and open for them. Cat, for her part, simply ignored the jostling and clung tighter to him.

When he tried to put her down inside and she blinked up dazedly at him Anders realized she must have fallen asleep at some point during the walk. He found a cot to lay her down on before going to get a warm blanket and pillow from his own bed to give her. When he returned, Fenris was carefully laying Cahir next to his sister. The twins curled into one another sweetly, both already stilling. Together Anders and Fenris got the pillow beneath both their heads before Anders tucked the now sleeping children under the blanket.

“Okay, where should we set him, Anders?” Marian asked as she and Aveline carefully navigated the stretcher into the clinic. Anders guided them to one of the larger cots and had them set Raelnor, stretcher and all, on it. Fenris shut and locked the door before he returned to help coral the children away to give Anders room to work.

Anders immediately began to check the boy over. His magic had been crackling beneath his skin as soon as he saw the blood on Raelnor’s lips and it surged forward when he called it.

As he had suspected, it was a broken rib in his lung. Anders pulled the potions he would need to give Raelnor afterward he was done healing him and downed his emergency lyrium potion before he set to work. He forced himself to tune out his companions talking to the children, keeping them distracted so the healer could focus. Once the rib was back in place and his lung healed as much as Anders could with magic, he sent another pulse of magic to check for other injuries.

He found four of his other ribs were cracked and Anders was certain Raelnor had lost a tooth recently. His jaw was still swollen but it didn’t seem to be infected. Anders certainly had a few questions for Raelnor once he woke up. Once the pain had been alleviated, Raelnor had gone limp, unconscious without it or his struggle to breathe to keep him awake. Anders stepped away and found a sheet to cover him with. Having already determined he will have a clinic full of kids for the remainder of the night, he found what blankets and pillows he could for the remaining three children and set them out on cots near their siblings.

“Is Rae going to be okay?” Bree asked once she saw Anders had stepped away from her injured brother.

“Yes, he is,” he assured. He saw all of their eyes turned to where Raelnor was still sleeping deeply, unmoving besides his deep breaths beneath the sheet. “He needs to rest, his body still needs time to recover, but he’ll be right as rain in the morning. Now, it’s bedtime for everyone. Come on, come get settled.”

Bree came over willingly and ran her fingers over one of the blankets he had set out with awed eyes. She arranged it on the cot carefully before curling up beneath it at his gentle encouragement.

“Ros, Tanner, you too, c’mon. Bedtime.”

Startled, the two looked at each other.

“I- you are really okay with all staying here tonight?” Tanner asked, “even after we ruined your evening with your friends?”

“You didn’t ruin anything, sweet thing,” Isabela assured him, “me winning every time was getting boring and this was all very exciting.”

“She’s right. Not about winning every time but about it not being ruined. Of course you can stay here tonight, come lay down.”

“Can… can we stay the night more after this?” Rosalyn asked, her voice so hesitant that Anders felt it hit him like a physical blow.

“Of course,” he told her before he could question himself. “Come lay down, love, get some sleep.”

Once he got them settled, Anders returned to where his friends were watching him with various expressions. They mainly looked amused, Aveline still looked a little gobsmacked and Varric’s smirk and sly glances at Isabela said they were already planning a friend-fiction together about the evening. However it was the almost fond expression that Fenris wore that stole Anders' breath from his throat.

It’s because of the children , he told himself firmly. Fenris was good with them, with most children when given the chance, and he never seemed to run out of patience with questions or demands to be carried. It’s because he is fond of the children.

There was no denying that Fenris was handsome, devastatingly so if you asked Anders, but before when all they had done was snap and snarl at each other their differences had been too great to analyze that too closely.

“It’s clear you have it well in hand here, let me know if you need anything,” Hawke said and clapped him on the shoulder as she passed him to leave the clinic. Isabela pressed a kiss to his cheek before jogging to catch up with Marian.

“You got good kids, Blondie,” Varric teased. Aveline waved at him over her shoulder as she and the rogue followed Hawke and Isabela.

Then he and Fenris were alone, besides the children. “They are lucky to have you, mage.”

“I can be pretty handy to have around,” Anders deflected weakly. “I’m just the only one they know to go to.”

“Doubtful, they appear to be very resourceful. They have chosen you because you are a good man. I will see you later, good night Anders,” Fenris said.

“Be safe, you have a good night too,” he answered lamely, tongue tied by this new, earnest side of Fenris he had never seen. He wanted to call out, tell Fenris he was a good man too but the warrior was already gone, the clinic door closed behind him.

Since the children had come into Anders’ life, since that first night Fenris had seen him heal Raelnor, something had shifted between them. It was something new and fragile that Anders refused to examine too closely for fear of breaking it, but nonetheless it was something. It had softened their fights to just bickering and the elf seemed to stop and truly listen to Anders more than he had in the past. Anders hadn’t felt inclined to pray to the Maker or Andraste since Karl’s death, but he prayed that night.

Please, Maker, keep this little family safe, he prayed. I know they aren’t mine, I know I don’t deserve any of them, but please look after Fenris and the children.

(please leave kudos and comments on ao3 if you enjoyed!)

[jalapeno-princess]

Just Weren’t Meant To Be

(THE BICEPS) (I’M SCREAMING)

Mark Tuan X Reader

Word Count: 10K

Genre: Angsty Angst, Lovers to Ex’s

Summary: You find yourself returning back to California after four years of being away in order to attend the wedding of your best friend BamBam. Although you were more than excited to spend time with your family and to show your soon-to-be husband Jinyoung around the place you were born and raised, there was a specific person you weren’t all too excited to have to see again. Your first love, Mark Tuan. 

A/N: Based on the song “Home from the summer” by Sara Kay. I heard this song a couple of days ago and the story just came out like it normally does after I finish listening to a song. I started writing Chapter four in the “Crazy little thing called love” series, but I’m going to be honest--I’m having a little bit of writer’s block with that story and I’m frustrated because I want to hurry up and finish the series because I have a lot of other ideas planned, but my life is all over the place right now and so is this story. But I hope you all enjoy it anyway. Happy reading! 

We started getting close Freshman year, when all our friends were smoking cigarettes And we couldn't stand that secondhand smoke So we'd leave and drive around until you had to drop me off at home Swear that was yesterday But in two weeks I'd be moving south And you'd be moving to a town that I had never heard of I wish we had more time, why did I ever wanna grow up? You said you'll see me When we're home for the summer We won't have to work so we're gonna Do whatever the hell we wanna 'Cause we know that one day we'll be Gone from each other

Hey Mark?”

“Hm?”

“What do you want to be when you grow up?”

You and your best friend Mark were currently lying on his roof, gazing at the stars while talking about how he needed to take his car to the auto repair shop when you found yourself curious about the future. The two of you were currently in your senior year of high school and it didn’t occur to you how time practically came and went in the blink of an eye. It felt like it was just yesterday you and the boy who’s face was smashed against your navel were introduced to one another. 

Back in freshman year, there was one night that your best friend BamBam was meant to pick you up from a coffee shop after you worked on a group project for more than three hours. Two of your group members were actually upperclassman and they offered to drop you off, but because BamBam already agreed to doing so—you politely declined. However, you found yourself waiting almost twenty minutes after they all left just to get a response back from the older boy. Seeing as how you��ve been friends with him for almost five years, you should have been aware of the fact that he had a tendency to make multiple plans with different people. 

“Y/n—shit, I was supposed to pick you up tonight wasn’t I? I’m so fucking sorry—ah, I’m like forty minutes away; let me call you a cab. I’ll pay for it—wait, I have a better idea. I have a friend who lives right by the shopping mall, I’m sure he wouldn’t mind taking you home. He owes me one anyway. I’ll make it up to you, I promise.” 

You wanted to yell at him; how could he be so irresponsible and forget about the favor he was the one to offer in the first place. He was completely aware that you were the definition of an introvert. Sometimes, you had a hard time processing the fact that you both were friends in the first place. You and BamBam were complete opposites; he was outgoing and extremely friendly. 

His bright and bubbly personality was one that you were always jealous of. You couldn’t talk to someone for more than five minutes without having a mental breakdown. A part of you wanted to say no; although you and BamBam had such a tight-knit friendship, there were still some things about him that you had no idea about. His group of friends; the ones he’d hang out with when he wasn’t with you just so happened to be a mystery to you. 

The only thing you knew about them were their faces. You didn’t know any of their names; nor have you been introduced with any of them, but it was because BamBam claimed that he wanted to keep you all to himself. He was extremely protective over you. From the time you both were kids, BamBam was like your shadow. 

Everywhere you went, best believe he was right there with you—no matter where or when. You were the only person in his life that has been a constant and he was going to make sure it stayed that way. When Mark arrived less than ten minutes after you got off the phone with BamBam, you were mentally thanking him for his failure to be your ride home. 

Sure, you believed your best friend was one of the most attractive boys you’ve seen in your life, but the minute he parked the car and made his way over to you, your heart felt as if it was about to jump out of your chest and in to his hands. He was beautiful in a way that you didn’t think boys were capable of being. His smile—God, it had to be the prettiest one to have been sent your way. 

“Hey, you must be y/n. I’m Mark. I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner—and I’m even sorrier that you have BamBam as a friend. Let’s get you home.” 

You didn’t know what to expect on the ride back to your house, but laughing till your stomach hurt was the last thing you thought would have happened. What started off as a simple joke about how BamBam has the attention span of a puppy turned in to a vast conversation about how gummy worms were way better than gummy frogs. You didn’t think you would’ve had as much fun as you did, but now that you knew of Mark Tuan and how he was like, you wouldn’t be able to get enough of him.  

“Let me think, oooh! Rich—hahahaha! I’m kidding—well, not really. I actually wouldn’t mind being an astronaut!” You playfully rolled your eyes before shoving him off of your lap at the sound of his unrealistic expectations. 

“Mark, I’m being serious.”

“And so am I! What? You don’t think I’d be able to get a job at NASA and float through outer space—fine. But I don’t know what you mean by “when we grow up.” Y/n, we’re months away from becoming adults. We’re old.” 

You giggled softly at the way he whined when talking about how old the two of you were going to be. Unlike Mark who hated the idea of aging and having to prepare for the real world, you were excited to finally go off to college and possibly get a job that allowed you to travel the world. You still had yet to decide exactly what major you planned on studying, but you knew you wanted to go away for college. 

Studying abroad has been a dream of yours for as long as you could remember. One thing you really enjoyed was learning more about many different cultures around the world and you’d find yourself reaching at any opportunity offered that would allow you to actually pursue your dreams. Mark on the other hand, couldn’t give less of a shit about what field he was going in to. 

The boy hated school with a passion and if it weren’t for your nagging and the constant need to force him to complete his work, Mark was pretty sure he would have flunked at least two—if not all of his classes if you weren’t so persistent with his education. That was only one of the many things Mark adored about you. You were the only person who genuinely cared about his success—his well-being, his happiness and just him in general. Honestly, Mark couldn’t care less about what his future held. As long as you were in it, he’d be content. Even if it meant he worked in a grocery store bagging people’s items or being a tailor for elderly men. 

“I can’t give you an actual answer because I have no clue. I just want to work somewhere that I will be happy working for. What about you? Do you have an idea or have you brainstormed what you’re going to do once we graduate?” 

You contemplated his question for a couple of seconds. For some odd reason, you felt as if you shouldn’t tell him of your plans; you were afraid of his reaction once you were to admit you had every intention of leaving California knowing that Mark had every intention of living there for the rest of his life. California was your home; it was all you’ve known for the last eighteen years of your life. It was time for you to make new memories elsewhere. As much as you hated lying to him, it broke your heart even more watching his defeated facial expression when he heard something he wished he rather not have. 

“I don’t know. I just want a job I won’t stress over. A job that I will sincerely enjoy and not cry over because of how difficult the work is.” He hummed in agreement before sitting up and looking at you with an expression you’ve never seen him give you before. There was a certain glint in his eye—you couldn’t put your finger on it, but you did particularly enjoy the warm feeling his gaze caused to your chest. 

“I don’t care what my occupation ends up being, where I end up living, what kind of house I end up purchasing or the car I end up driving—all I care about are the people that are in my life and I know you are going to be one of them. Hell, you’re the only one that I need y/n.”

You didn’t know how you were able to stay away from California for so long. Four years was an extensive amount of time to have been away from the place you called home, but you were too busy living out the life you’ve only dreamt of when you were old enough to realize what dreaming was. Right after you graduated from high school, you wasted no time in packing your bags and traveling thousands of miles away to Europe. 

Out of all the places in the world to choose from, you decided to go with Europe specifically because of how beautiful the scenery and architecture were. Studying abroad had to be both the best and the worst decision you’ve ever made in your life. Sure, you were given the chance of a lifetime; being able to visit all these different countries at the prime age of only nineteen was something that most people could only fantasize about. But it was at the cost of losing your favorite person in the entire world. You haven’t seen or heard from Mark since the night that you left for Italy. 

Most of your friends were more than happy to hear of your plans. Mark on the other hand wasn’t too fond of the idea—at all. In fact, he was selfish. He begged you to stay and he told you he was willing to do whatever he had to in order to prevent you from leaving. You couldn’t blame him for the way he was acting—only a couple months before your high school graduation, both you and Mark agreed on taking your relationship further than the friendship you’ve shared for years. 

It wasn’t an overnight decision; your feelings for Mark only grew the longer you were friends with him for and when he asked you to be his girlfriend, it only confirmed that he felt the same way. If you thought that Mark already was an amazing friend, he was an even better boyfriend. He was already such a patient, kind-hearted and very generous person to everyone he knew. But you were the lucky person who got to see and experience how loving and tender Mark could be in a relationship. 

Before you; Mark was never one to date. Dating was not in his vocabulary. He wasn’t necessarily a fuckboy like you considered most of his friends to be. Every girl he would get involved with knew of his intentions. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to get in to a relationship. There were times that he would get lonely and crave the presence of someone other than his friends and family. He just didn’t care about the domestic part that came with having a girlfriend. 

Mark felt like he was still too young to worry about impressing someone, keeping in contact and constantly having to texting someone, changing himself to be someone his significant other would be proud of—all he wanted to focus on was living freely without a care in the world before life actually became all the more difficult. Once he realized that he was falling for you, he knew he was screwed—yet at the same time, it felt good because it was you. 

When he found himself missing you on the days he couldn’t see you or right after he would drop you home, when he’d find himself calling you up in the middle of the night because he wanted to hear your voice, when he began cancelling on outings with his friends in order to spend time with you, he knew he had found someone who meant more to him than life itself. He wanted to do better—be better for you. 

Falling in love with you had to be the easiest and honestly the best thing Mark has ever done. You’ve captivated his heart in ways that he never thought was possible for him to experience. Mark never felt like he was capable of loving someone nor receiving love from anyone other than his family. But when the two of you began dating, all he ever wanted to do was love you and be loved by you—and only you. 

Your relationship lasted for eight months and deep down in your heart, you knew you wanted to spend the rest of your life with him. You were willing to give up on your dreams in order to continue your relationship with Mark. There were many opportunities out there for you that didn’t require having to leave—and you were sure that you would one day be able to experience traveling the world; hopefully by that time, you’d be able to go with Mark. 

Everything you ever wanted to do, you wanted him right by your side when accomplishing it. Sure, there was so much more out there that the world had to offer, but there was only one Mark Tuan. Mark was the one to show you what love was. He taught you how to fall in love with yourself; he made you love the things you hated about yourself simply because he loved everything about you. You felt as if you were the most beautiful girl in the entire world because he looked at you and treated you as though you were the most ethereal goddess that he just so happened to have the honor in being able to call his. 

The two of you were still so young to really understand that being in love also meant making sacrifices for the people you truly cared about. As much as you hated the idea of being away from him, you wanted your cake and you wanted to eat it too. You were willing to keep a long distance relationship because you felt it with your entire being that Mark was your person and that he was the one you would settle down and start a family with. 

The two of you spent every single day of summer together. Some days, you would do something quite eventful. Mark was a daredevil and loved anything adventurous. Hiking, scuba diving, zip lining and even skydiving were only a few of the many activities you did together. On the days that you were too lazy to even get out of bed, you would stay in and watch movies together—sometimes it led to kissing—which usually led to you on your knees bringing Mark to heaven more than once in your love making session. 

You could only hope that he would have wanted to wait for you; but you were well aware that it was too much to ask for. He might have told you on a daily basis that he loved you with every beat of his pathetic heart, but sometimes love just wasn’t enough to keep someone in your life. The day that you left for Europe was the same day that he told you he couldn’t handle it. He claimed that you chose your dreams over him and that if it were him in your shoes, he would have chose you.

It hurt—hearing him talk so negatively about something you’ve wanted to do for longer than you could count on your hands made you feel so dejected. Mark of all people should’ve been the one to support you; to cheer you on in each and every one of your endeavors. It made you feel as though he didn’t love you as much as you thought he did. If he genuinely cared about you, he would’ve gave long distance a try. 

You knew you were going to miss him, and that you would be miserable not being able to have him around. But you would rather be in a relationship with him even if it meant being a world away from one another than to be with anyone else you’d get to see everyday. Your heart felt as if it could break right then and there knowing that he didn’t have the same mindset as you. Losing Mark was a pain that was so hard to bare. He was in your life—your daily routine for over four years. 

He made you laugh on the days that it didn’t even feel possible to omit any kind of emotion let alone a lively one. He held you and whispered sweet nothings in to your hair when you felt as if the entire world was against you. He kissed your cheeks as a distraction from your studies and held your hand as a way of comfort when you were in a crowded area. How were you supposed to live without the only person who gave you the will to live in the first place. 

Mark was the only person and honestly the only thing you could really look forward to when you’d wake up in the morning. He was all your heart knew and wanted to know. What were you supposed to do and how could you possible go on without him? 

“Babe—you’re dozing off again. Everything okay? I know it’s been a while since you’ve been back home, so let me know if you want to stop somewhere and take a small rest.” 

You looked at your boyfriend who was currently driving the two of you to a hotel near your parents house. Park Jinyoung was an angel; an actual prince. Not only was he painstakingly handsome, irritatingly intelligent and extremely polite, but he had such a big heart. It honestly irritated you how perfect he actually was. You and Jinyoung had just gotten engaged a little over two months ago and you didn’t think that anyone would have been able to fill the hole in your heart that Mark caused when he broke up with you all those years ago. You didn’t think you’d be able to love anyone the way you loved him; but then again—you considered the love you had for Mark to be immature and silly. 

The two of you were still teenagers at the time. You still had yet to really experience what love actually felt like—or at least that’s what you kept telling yourself in attempts to rid the thought of him from your mind completely. Sure, you loved Jinyoung more than you would ever be able to express to him; but there was still a tiny little part of you that missed Mark and wished that it was his ring on your finger. 

Even when you first met Jinyoung while in a cute little cafe in Paris while you both were studying abroad and began dating him not too long after meeting, you were still holding on to a thread of hope that Mark was going to welcome you back home with open arms once your time in Europe was over with. You’d find yourself looking at your phone every now and then, waiting for a text from him telling you that he made a mistake and that he wanted you back in his life. 

That he would be willing to continue your relationship and that everything would be okay between the two of you—but nothing ever came and you haven’t heard from him or seen him since you left. You gave up on him entirely and allowed Jinyoung to break down the walls that you’ve spent so much time building up after the break up. There were some days that you felt like Jinyoung deserved better; he deserved someone with less baggage and turmoil that came from your previous relationship. You didn’t feel the need to mention Mark, nor did you want him knowing that you were still harboring feelings for your ex-boyfriend, but it was only natural for you to do so. 

He was your friend before he was your boyfriend—honestly, you began regretting ever agreeing to be in a relationship with him. No matter how much you liked him before you dated, you would have rather stayed friends with him and at least have him in your life as just a friend than to not have him at all. You smiled softly to your boyfriend before placing your hand on his thigh and squeezing it gently. 

“I’m good—I just, I don’t know how I’m going to react when I see my friends from high school. Most of them I haven’t even talked to since graduation. Oh, I’m going to warn you, my family can be a little —much. They’re all going to be at the wedding, so I’m just preparing you for all the madness before you can get upset with me for not telling you sooner. BamBam and I have been friends for so many years and since we were always together, our families ended up growing close to one another also—so yeah. His family might even approach you also and I just want to apologize beforehand. You might just want to leave me after the festivities are over and I wouldn’t blame you.” 

His laughter that you’ve grown to adore in the last few months filled the entirety of the rent-a-car and you had a huge feeling that if you were to look at him right now, his eyes would be scrunched while crinkles would appear right under. You didn’t think that someone who was just a couple of months away from turning twenty-seven years old could possess such an adorable, high pitched giggle; but here he was, proving you wrong like he did with almost everything you had your doubts about. 

Jinyoung never gave you a reason to question your self-worth, nor did he ever do anything to make you insecure. You received at least one compliment almost every single day from him whether it was about your appearance or your personality. In the beginning of your relationship, it came as a surprise to you when you found yourself growing jealous whenever you caught girls ogling over him—but it was inevitable. Anyone with good eyesight could see how gorgeous your fiancé was. 

He stood out in a crowd not only because he was almost six feet tall, but because he had very unique and exotic features. His eyebrows were nicely shaped; he had a sharp jawline, well-defined cheekbones, a cute little button nose and his lips were very plump. You were also quick with observing how a lot of his classmates would look at you with either jealousy or disgust. 

Jinyoung had explained to you that before he applied to study abroad, he made a pact with himself that he would focus on his education and put his love life on hold until he graduated with his bachelor’s degree in criminology. For the first couple of months, he was doing quite well. Although he did see a few girls he believed were very pretty, none of them really caught his attention for more than a couple of seconds. 

When Jinyoung first approached you in the café, he had no idea you would mean as much to him as you did now. All he wanted to do was ask you about the book you were reading. R.L. Stine had to be one of his favorite authors, but when he saw your cheeks flush as he stood at the corner of your table, he couldn’t have given less of a shit about the novel you were holding in your hands. He wanted to learn more about you; what you were doing in France, if you were an avid reader, how you liked your coffee in the mornings and if you’ve seen any episodes of the office. 

The last time he’s ever felt his heart race over a girl was back in the seventh grade. He felt like something was wrong with him for not feeling the desire to chase after girls the way his friends used to, but he believed being single and putting his education first was worth it. Not only was he interning at one of the most prestigious law offices South Korea had to offer, but he was just months away from marrying the person he considered the love of his life. 

It didn’t take him too long to come to the conclusion that he was in love with you. He was actually embarrassed to admit just how quickly he found himself putting you and the four letter word in the same sentence together. However, if he could go back in time, he would’ve admitted what he felt to you sooner. 

“Don’t apologize baby—it’s understandable. They must all be excited to see you again, so it’s a given that they’ll be curious. Especially seeing as how you’re engaged. A couple of trivial questions aren’t going to drive me away. You’re going to be my wife in February, so there’s no getting rid of me now or at all for that matter. You’re stuck with me forever; so I’m going to put up with whatever you consider is embarrassing, crazy or unnecessary. I mean look—I’ve seen you through your stinky morning breath, your drunken stupors, the many times you’ve cried over school, that one time you broke out in hives because you didn’t know you were allergic to pollen and I still think you are the most exceptionally beautiful and indescribably wonderful human to walk this earth. Everything is going to be fine y/n and even if things don’t turn out the way you want them to, I’ll be right by your side to protect and keep you away from anyone or anything that could possibly make you uncomfortable.” 

His kind speech tugged on your heartstrings in the sweetest way. Jinyoung’s words never failed to make you smile. Sometimes you’d find yourself tearing up at how thoughtful he could be. You weren’t going to lie; of course you invited Jinyoung to tag along with you to BamBam’s wedding because you wanted all your friends and family to meet the man you were planning on spending the rest of your life with. However, that wasn’t the only reason. 

It was evident that Mark was going to be at the wedding whether you liked it or not. From what you’ve heard, he and BamBam were still very close friends and the last thing you needed was to see him with someone else while you were all by yourself. You hated the fact that you still thought about Mark every now and then. Not only did he break your heart and make you feel as if you weren’t worth waiting around for, but he made you feel as if your feelings, your dreams and your passions were invalid all because he was so in over his head and only cared about himself and his needs. 

What did it matter if he was in a relationship—or if he was just like you; moments away from marrying someone else. That’s life. You told yourself if you were to see him, you’d pretend like he didn’t exist but honestly, what good would that do? You were older now and you believed you were way passed your grudge against him. The man on your left, singing along to Post Malone off-key while tapping his hands on the wheel was the only person you cared about now. 

Since this was Jinyoung’s first time in California, you decided to keep your arrival a secret from everyone other than your parents. You didn’t want his first memory of being in the sunshine state to be of people pulling him here and there, asking him about his job, how the two of you met and what he did in his free time. You also wanted some alone time with him before everyone could get acquainted with him and possibly desire his full attention.

For the first couple of days, you and Jinyoung drove all around California; you brought him to the neighborhood you grew up in, showed him the schools you attended when you were younger, took him to Venice beach and the Santa Monica pier. You even surprised him with tickets to go to Disneyland. Honestly, it was nice taking a breather from the harsh reality that adulting brought both you and your soon-to-be husband. In those three days, you’ve gotten to witness how much of a child at heart Jinyoung is and how excited he would get at the littlest things. He pulled you everywhere around the park and you both ate almost all the cutely decorated treats they had to offer. 

On the day of BamBam’s wedding, you didn’t wake up until you had to start getting ready. You were on vacation; waking up at three in the afternoon was normal. Even more so because Jinyoung kept you up all night ramming himself inside of you at a deliciously rough and jack rabbit like pace. Your legs were practically jelly and you mentally cursed him for being a little too animalistic the night before. 

You didn’t think much of your outfit when you first purchased it; a simple maroon colored  strapless dress that showed off just the right amount of cleavage to leave little to the imagination yet still very classy that hugged your curves perfectly. Witnessing Jinyoung’s jaw drop as soon as he saw you with both your hair and makeup done made your heart flutter. He wasted no time in briskly walking over to you and bringing his hand up to grip at your hips. 

“You know—we could skip this entire thing and just send a gift to the lucky couple later. I kind of—I mean, I need to show you exactly what seeing you in that dress is doing to me. I’m sure you see my painfully hardened erection through these slacks. You look so fucking beautiful baby—you’ll probably give the bride a run for her money. How much time do we have left? Do you think I could at least eat you out—“

You playfully shoved him away from you and continued with the finishing touches on your hair. “Finish getting ready you horndog; that dress shirt isn’t going to iron itself. Chop chop babe, get moving. Stop that, I can see you undressing me with your eyes Park Jinyoung. If you are a good boy, I’ll let you take my dress off as soon as we arrive back here.” 

He released such a cute sigh; one that he always seemed to give you whenever he didn’t get his way but it was quickly replaced with a grin right after you promised him the latter. Your fiancé stole a chaste kiss from the corner of your mouth before making his way in to the bathroom to finish fixing his hair. As soon as the two of you were both done getting ready, you made your way over to the hotel BamBam was having his reception at. 

All of a sudden, your calm exterior was now distraught and worried beyond belief. Not even the comforting touch of Jinyoung’s hand wrapped around the back of your nape could sooth your nerves. There was a 95% chance you were going to see Mark tonight and you were afraid that something bad was going to happen. With a few deep breaths, you tried your best to think about anything but the possibility of tonight ending in ruins. 

It didn’t take too long for you and Jinyoung to find the hotel; there were at least fifteen different signs scattered around the area and you were sure BamBam set them up with every intention of gaining the attention of pedestrians, drivers and anyone passing by. The thought of how he never changed at all made you giggle softly. Your best friend was always an attention seeker and now that he was getting married, you knew he was going to use this night as an advantage to be the center of attention. 

There were hundreds of cars in the parking lot and you recognized a couple belonging to some of Bambam’s aunts, uncles and cousins. You saw a few of them leaving their cars and walking over towards the lobby. Tonight was supposed to be a happy night—but you felt like you were on the verge of throwing up. You were mentally preparing yourself to bump in to Mark. Although it’s been years since the breakup and you were completely over him, you didn’t know how you would react if he were to come up to you in the hopes of starting a conversation. After he parked the car, Jinyoung reached over the console and squeezed your thigh to get your attention. 

“Come on babe, the sooner we go in and join the party, the faster we can leave and I can take this dress off of you like you promised.” 

You playfully rolled your eyes and giggled at his all but innocent insinuation before getting out from your side of the car. Jinyoung was quick to take his place by your side; he grabbed your purse and immediately intertwined your hands together. Something about his presence was exceedingly calming. No matter what were to happen once you both walked in to the ballroom, you knew everything was going to be okay as long as your fiancé stayed by your side. When the two of you finally made your way inside and out towards the garden where the ceremony was being held, you saw that almost all the chairs were filled up. 

There were many familiar faces in the crowd; you smiled politely at BamBam’s siblings and smirked when you saw your mutual Jackson who was sitting next to who you were told was his girlfriend. You didn’t know how to explain exactly what you were feeling seeing that so much has changed in the last four years since you’ve been gone. 

Jackson and BamBam were the last two people on earth that you would have ever thought would settle down and start families. Back in high school, all they ever did was attend parties, get wasted and fool around with any girl that showed interest in them. Now; witnessing your best friend cry as his bride-to-be walked down the aisle towards him caused you to tear up a little yourself. Out of all your friends, BamBam was the only one to keep in touch with you for the last couple of years. 

You could still remember the day he called you up and told you that he was seeing someone; you were in complete and utter disbelief at the time and because you believed you knew BamBam like the back of your hand, you just assumed this was a phase until you’d listen to him talk about her the way Jinyoung would talk about you to his friends and his family. He was head over heels in love with her and you couldn’t have been more happier for him. 

The entire ceremony was beautiful; their vows were both so heartfelt and full of love and promise for their future ahead. Their sweet words and the way they looked at one another only heightened your excitement for your upcoming nuptials. Twenty minutes went by faster that you had thought it would and before you knew it, all the guests were being ushered in to the grand ballroom that was bigger than you could even have imagined. 

That was just the kind of person bambam was; go big or go home. You signed you and your fiancé in at the registration booth and released a sigh of relief when you were told you’d be sitting with your family. Immediately as you found your seats, your mom wasted no time pulling you and Jinyoung in for hugs; and whispering how beautiful you looked and how Jinyoung only became more and more handsome every time she saw him. 

A lot has changed since you left your small town to pursue your extraordinary dreams. You had seen them a couple of times in the last year during the holiday season or when they travelled up to see you during the summer time. Even if you were more than happy to finally experience marriage and what it would feel like to be Mrs.Park Jinyoung, you felt as if your mom was more excited than you were if it was even possible. Most mothers couldn’t wait for the day that their daughters get proposed to; especially to someone as attractive, hardworking and exuberantly outgoing like your soon-to-be husband.

You still had to get used to the idea that you were only months away from becoming a married woman. Watching BamBam and his wife look at each other as if they were the only two people there in the room made your heart flutter. You were glad BamBam found someone who would love him and take good care of him the way he never failed to do so with everyone in his life; the way he did with you for the entire duration of your friendship. 

Both you and Jinyoung were too busy having a conversation about what your plans for the rest of the week were going to be that you failed to notice the way everyone in your family turned their heads towards the entrance. Whenever you would talk with your fiancé, nobody else could grab your attention even if they tried. You were so in love with him; your world revolved around the handsome man gazing at you with the most adoring look in his eyes as you talked about driving to San Fransisco and visiting the Golden Gate Bridge. 

Just like the way BamBam looked at his wife, you were sure the way you and Jinyoung looked at one another mirrored your best friend’s tender stare. Honestly you would have continued pretending as if you and Jinyoung weren’t surrounded by all these people if it wasn’t for him adverting his gaze towards the direction everyone seemed to be looking in. 

Curiosity got the best of you and you decided to see what your family seemed to be so interested in. Once the couple came in to sight however, you wished you kept to yourself and ignored the way your mom’s look of disgust. 

Four years. 

It’s been four years since you last saw him. Four years since he told you he didn’t want to wait for you. Four years since he decided your relationship wasn’t worth fight for. It took almost an entire year for you to completely get over your relationship. Hell, it’s been four years yet you were still wondering how he was doing. What he looked like, whether or not he was in a relationship, what career he decided to pursue—if he ever regretted giving up on you so easily—if he missed you the way you missed him. 

You’d be lying if you said you haven’t thought about him at least once in the last couple of weeks. Honestly, you thought about him every single day and it made you feel guilty because you were engaged. You had someone else; someone who loved you more than life itself. Someone who gave you the world on a silver platter and made you feel like the only girl in the entire world. What you and Mark had was an experimental relationship; puppy love. 

At the time, you thought it was the best thing that had ever happened to you—that he was the most amazing and wonderful human being in the entire world. Then he broke your heart in to a million pieces and left your world crumbling down, as if it was the easiest thing to do. He never once considered your feelings; only thought about his needs, his desires, his dreams—what he wanted. 

Mark was an immature and selfish person; he had yet to learn that love and relationships were a two person job. Relationships are between two people; if he really loved you the way you knew with your heart that you loved him, he would have fought for you and let you do your thing knowing that you’d come back to him. This was it—you knew it was going to happen sooner or later tonight, but you weren’t as ready as you probably thought you would have been. Your stomach sank at the sight of him. 

Time always seemed to be in his favor; if you thought he was exceedingly handsome back in high school, he was an even bigger sight for sore eyes now at the prime age of twenty-four. His features only grew more prominent; his lips that you used to love kissing so much were plumper—more fuller. His chubby cheeks that you’d find yourself unable to stop pinching out of habit no longer existed. His hair was longer; back in high school he cut it at least once a month because he never wanted it to pass his ears, but now it was almost down to the back of his neck. He might have been wearing a suit, but you could tell he has been working out by the way his suit was like a second skin; the outline of his biceps were prominent and it made your head spin. 

As much as you felt like you could continue staring at him and analyzing how much he’s changed in the last four years, your eyes just so happened to land on the body next to him. Whoever the woman was to him—she was beautiful. There was no doubt about it. She had a petite frame; he hovered over her almost by a foot, but their height difference was actually kind of cute. She also had long, wavy hair and a glow that you felt was the cause of the bump she was sporting. It didn’t take a genius to know that she was pregnant; her maternity dress alone gave it away. 

She had to be at least four or five months pregnant and for some reason, it felt like a stab to your chest—but why did it matter? Mark was no longer the man who owned your heart nor was he the one who deserved it. Maybe it was the teenager in you—the one who was madly in love with Mark that was upset to see someone else living out the life that you should have been. Most people would still consider eighteen “too young” to actually understand what love is and to plan out their futures; but even then, when you would look at Mark, you knew he was the one you wanted to be the father of your children. 

Every time you would hang out or sleep over at his house, you witnessed the way he interacted with his three nieces. Those little girls meant the world to him. He never failed to give them his full attention and did whatever it was that they asked of him without complaining. He always talked about having a big family one day and you knew how much he loved kids. You knew why your mom was so upset; she had to hear you cry every single day for four months straight over your breakup. 

She saw how much pain you had to suffer through once Mark let you go. You obviously weren’t the same person you were all those years ago; heartbreak did that to people. Although she actually really liked Mark and approved of your relationship back then, she no longer had anything nice to say about him. Poor Jinyoung looked so confused; in the three years that you’ve been together for, not once have you ever told him about Mark. It didn’t seem necessary because he was no longer involved in your life anyway and he was in the past. If you continued to bring him up, it would just show that you still cared about him and even if you did, you didn’t want anyone else to know that. 

Especially not your fiancé. But you knew he was going to ask you about it; the man who had your entire table’s attention had to be someone important. A huge part of you wanted to come up with an excuse to leave; it didn’t matter that he and his significant other were seated at a table on the complete opposite side of the room, knowing he was there, that he was in a relationship and that he was months away from being a father made you physically sick. You were now feeling so dizzy and you hated that even after all these years and all the pain and distress he put you through, his presence still had a huge effect on you. 

“Hey, I’ll be right back.” 

Your fiancé looked up at you in curiosity and began to stand up himself out of worry, but you gave him a reassuring smile and motioned for him to stay put. If Jinyoung was anything, it was observant. He had a feeling that you must’ve have known Mark and he couldn’t stop the voice in his head from taunting him with the idea that maybe Mark was an ex of some sorts. He wanted to believe that you wouldn’t keep such an important detail of your life like that from him; your relationship was full of trust and all he really wanted from you was honesty and loyalty. 

However, he didn’t want to force you in to telling him something you didn’t want to. If you didn’t tell him about your past relationships, it was for a reason and as he watched your facial expression; your now furrowed brows and pursed lips, he was well aware that Mark was obviously the reason. 

“I just have to use the bathroom, I’ll be quick.” You placed a chaste peck on his lips and hoped that he wasn’t watching you walk in the opposite way of the bathroom. You needed a breather—it was too much for your mind to process and honestly for you to take in. This might have been BamBam’s big night, but you were now growing angry with him. 

He had to know; even if Mark didn’t straight out tell him that he was seeing someone else let alone about to be a father, you were sure it had to be on social media somewhere. As your best friend, he should have been upfront and said something. Even if BamBam didn’t want to hurt you with the news, you would’ve felt better knowing months before hand. But maybe he felt like if you knew, you wouldn’t have came to the wedding. You were minutes away from telling Jinyoung that it was time to go. 

There was no way you would even be able to pretend that you were fine. The chilly breeze was quick to poke at your skin as soon as you made your way outside. California was always freezing in the nighttime when winter was approaching. You wouldn’t have been surprised to hear that it was only 40 degrees out—but you were too frustrated to even care that you could get hypothermia. Why didn’t you think about taking Jinyoung’s blazer? 

One thing you missed about California since you’ve been gone was the sky; it was always so pretty at night. You could see so many stars fill up the entirety of it and it was never too dark which you enjoyed. The longer you continued to breathe in and out while looking up at the moon, you could slowly feel yourself relaxing. Unfortunately, your little moment alone was soon interrupted by the last person you wanted to see at all tonight. 

“Hey. I thought I saw you come out here.” 

You could feel yourself choking up at the sound of his voice; it was much deeper than what it was back in high school. Chills were sent down your spine and it wasn’t because of the freezing weather. God, you missed his voice. Mark had such a calming and soothing voice; you would listen to him talk for hours on end if you could. Sometimes, you would have him read books to you specifically because you wanted to hear him talk. Right now though, you wanted him to leave. 

Being around him was suffocating. You allowed yourself a few seconds to prepare yourself for when you were to actually face him; if seeing him from far away was already driving you to the brink of insanity, what more when he was in close proximity of you? Once you finally turned around, you could feel your heart rate increase. From afar, he already looked so breathtaking, but looking at him just two feet away made you appreciate his dark, and gorgeous features. You contemplated on bolting away and you didn’t care if it was rude. This man showed you what love was only to take it away from you before you could actually appreciate it for what it was. You were sure you hated him; but seeing him right now—you weren’t as confident with your hatred. 

“Yeah. It was getting a little too crowded in there. I just—wanted to be alone.” Hopefully he took the hint and left you to it; but Mark—as much as he was smart wasn’t all that bright. Whenever you asked him to do one thing, he would manage to do the complete opposite; this situation was no different. 

“How have you been? You look very beautiful tonight—I mean, you are always so beautiful, but—tonight I just—wow.” 

Was he being serious right now? Why did he think after all these years of not talking to each other and pretending one another didn’t exist that he should have started your first conversation with complementing you? He had to have drank at least a couple of drinks; he was out of his mind. 

“Thanks—you don’t look too bad yourself. I’ve been good. Thank you for asking.” Your interaction with him was the definition of awkward. The tension in the air was so thick, you could cut it with a knife and you wanted it to end before questions or even confessions were brought up. 

“So uh—I actually saw you on the dance floor earlier—um—is that your boyfriend?” 

You wanted to laugh out of hysteria. Was he really your best friend for almost four years and your boyfriend for almost one? His face was one that would be instilled in the back of your mind forever, yet you felt like you were looking at a stranger. Why did he feel like it was the right thing to come out here and talk to you? You didn’t plan on having any interaction with him at all tonight, so why did he ruin your plans of avoiding him? 

“He’s my fiancé.” 

The silence that came right after your confession was unexpected. Why did it matter who Jinyoung was to you? Sure, you wanted to know what the woman was to Mark when you first saw them walk in together, but you no longer cared. He moved on and so did you. You were going to leave it at that. You didn’t fail to notice the way his jaw clenched and so did his fists—however, you didn’t understand why. It’s been at least ten minutes since you left the table; so you could only hope Jinyoung would come looking for you soon and take you away from this mess. 

“Congratulations—you look very happy—I hope he knows how lucky he is to have you.”

“He does. I am. Very happy. He’s an amazing fiancé. Thank you. What about you? I saw your—wife? Girlfriend? Congratulations on the pregnancy.” 

It felt like venom on your tongue; congratulating him on something you weren’t too thrilled about—but you didn’t have the right to be jealous. You both lived separate lives with two different lovers. It was evident the two of you were no longer the two crazy high schoolers that thought the world was theirs for the taking. You were both grown adults now on two different paths. What he did and the decisions he made no longer concerned you. 

“Thanks. She’s uh—my—girlfriend.” 

The last word seemed forced, as if he didn’t want you to know who she was or what he labeled their relationship. What did he have to hide though? She was practically a basketball and he came to the wedding with her in tow. Who else could she be if not his partner? You wouldn’t bring a random pregnant lady with you to your friend’s wedding if she didn’t mean something to you. With the tiniest bit of confidence building up in your veins, you spoke up with every intention on returning back to the party.

“Look, it was nice seeing you again—but I really should get going—“

“Please don’t marry him.” 

Your eyes widened in shock at his words. There was no way he was just drunk—he had to be high on some kind of illegal drug. Was he honestly being serious right now? Did you hear correctly, or was being around him making you imagine things. What the hell was wrong with him? 

“Mark what the fuck—“

“I made a mistake. A fucking huge and extremely stupid mistake and I’ve never regretted anything more in my life than when I ended our relationship. I’m so fucking sorry y/n. I was stupid and immature then—I shouldn’t have broken up with you. I should have tried harder for you. I should have actually thought about what would happen if I were to lose you. If only I knew how lucky I was back then to have you—I wouldn’t be seconds away from socking your fiancé in the face, but this is all my fault. That should be my ring on your finger y/n. This should’ve been our fucking wedding damnit. I didn’t realize just how much I loved you and how much I missed you until you were no longer mine to care about. I never told you this and fuck—if only I wasn’t so stubborn and so selfish, but you were the best thing that ever happened to me. I haven’t been happy in the last four years and it’s because my heart is so empty. I wanted to call you; to beg you to forgive me—to tell you that not a day went by that I didn’t think of you or wished that things went differently, but I didn’t think I had the ability nor the right to—“

“Oh and you do now? Honestly Mark, what the fuck is wrong with you? I’m engaged to be married in a few months and you’re about to be a father. What made you think that confessing something like that was appropriate huh? That’s disrespectful to your girlfriend, to my fiancé and damnit—to me! Especially me! You don’t realize how much seeing you is fucking ruining me right now do you?! I didn’t want to care; I wanted to pretend that seeing your girlfriend pregnant doesn’t bother me but it does and I hate that it does. You ruined my life Mark. You broke my fucking heart because you were such a pathetic and immature boy. You don’t know what you’re saying. What we had—it wasn’t significant at all. We were kids! We had no idea what love was but now I do know and it’s because of the man sitting inside with my family. I love Park Jinyoung and he loves me—in the ways you never could. What we had is in the past. It’s never going to happen ever again Mark. I don’t know what kind of response you expected from me—but this is it. What? Did you think I was going to fall for that pathetic and poor excuse of an apology? I’m not the same girl I was when I first met you. Our break up made me realize my self-worth; I used to think I wasn’t enough for you to want to fight for me. To want to stay and live out our lives together. It took countless nights crying over you and drinking multiple bottles of wine to get rid of any thought of Mark Tuan to get me to come to the conclusion that it was you who didn’t deserve me. Jinyoung saved my life—he saved me from the monster you created after dropping me like I was nothing. I’m done—I have nothing left to say to you. If we didn’t have to come here tonight, I probably would have never heard from you anyway so you should have let it stay that way.” 

There had to be tears falling down your cheeks; your face was hot and you could feel your chest heaving out of frustration. For years, those words of anger have been building up and it felt like a ton of weight was finally lifted off of your shoulders. You said what you wanted to and you were sure there was more he wanted to admit, but you weren’t going to take any more of it. 

“There you are. I thought I saw you come out here, I’ve been looking for you everywhere baby—BamBam is looking for you. Babe? Y/n, everything alright? Why are you crying? Oh—Hi. I’m Jinyoung, y/n’s fiancé.” 

Although you didn’t want Jinyoung having to see you breaking down, especially while with another man; one you were sure he knew who he was to you, you were glad he was there. It was weird watching your fiancé reach his hand out for Mark to shake. Even if Jinyoung now knew that Mark was your ex and that he was the reason you were so upset, he was never the type to be rude or disrespectful towards someone he just met. 

Mark however, continued standing there and ignored his polite gesture like a jerk. Thankfully, Jinyoung took no offense and just retracted his hand before intertwining it with yours. “We should start returning back to our table y/n—It was nice meeting you.” You allowed your fiancé to pull you away and you didn’t even spare Mark a glance; you were too eager to get away from him before you could ruin your makeup and your night even more so. 

“You don’t have to tell me anything baby, just—do you think you’re going to be okay? Is there anything I can do to make you feel better? Did you want to leave? We don’t have to go back to the hotel just yet. If you want to just drive around or go pick up some junk food, we can do that. I just really hate seeing you cry—unless it’s cries of pleasure—there we go. I knew I could get a smile out of you. I’ll do whatever it is that you want to do my love. Just say the word.”

“I love you Park Jinyoung. I don’t tell you as much as I should, but I do. So fucking much.” He gave you a cheeky grin and placed s gentle kiss on your nose. 

“I love you too y/n and I plan on loving you for the rest of my life. As much as I want to continue celebrating the newlyweds, let’s get you out of here.”

You've been busy That's okay I still can't wait to be Home for the summer We won't have to work so we're gonna Do whatever the hell we wanna 'Cause we know that one day we'll be Gone from each other We'll have lives in two different suburbs We'll have families with different lovers But for now, I know I'll see you when we're Home for the summer

[definedbywhatilove]

seven months

hey taylor! this is a little story of my journey since the last time that i let you in to my inner world... its been seven months...(feels like 20 lifetimes of growth) and two months since I moved to California and one week since I left my grandest, most divine partner in L.A to continue my journey of self discovery, self awareness, self love, and self soverignty... and i wanted to mention something important to you -- a sign, an invisable string if you will. since i was a kid, your music always followed me and described my life experiences. as i began a deep journey of self understanding, i went away from the reality that i knew (much alike your time to yourself, away from the media) last oct/november. and i let myself fall deeply, and madly in love. you know the love i'm talking about. the red love. the deeply open and vulnerable heart love, despite all past burns to the heart. the one you write poetry and songs about. i know you feel deeply self worth inside. i know that you relyed on guys to help fill that void. same as me. same as so many beautiful woman out there. giving our hearts away.. loving so damn red. but loving so: fearlessly. bravely. courageously. vulnerably. openly. you can't regret a thing, can you? and the months piled up. nine months december 27 he came to Christmass dinner ten months january 27 this is... love eleven months febuary 27 this is home 1 year march 27 this is the 1 three days after, my life came crashing down. i wake up to coughing. masks. fear. my house turned into a graveyard a grounds of fear, pain, suffering sickness. not me. her. my dads partner. someone who i thought, in my own ego, i despised. in that moment, i knew i loved. two hours. it was less than two hours that i packed two suitcases, and a heavy backpack full of everything that mattered to me. i had practised this before. countless nights isoltated in my room, pretending to pack to run away. really considering running away. but never running. it was a blur. i don't remember much. a message to stay, but the knowingness that it was my time to leave. one last goodbye. no hug. a promise. with my father. knowing he would get sick. knowing that my father, my Rock, my stable Father could very evidently get sick and die. was this a goodbye forever? i didn't know but i left. i had to leave. by some greater plan from God, or whoever is orchestrating this magical universe, my partner moved to my city by chance through the winter and I went to him. i moved in; my heart afraid of moving in with somebody that i love because love had only ever hurt me. i moved in with my partner and allowed my dad the space to go through his own conscious awakening. thirteen months WILL HE DIE? i prayed everyday. i surrendered. i released the outcome. i surrendered to my partner and the relationship and accepted a deeper love than i have ever experienced during this time. i started my business. really, started my business. i started it in december but I didn't really know if I would ever get to see my dad again. through the fall and winter he provided for me whilst i recovered from being sick [reoccuring during fall/winter, peak in sept. same thing i felt during my journey in 2018]. how will i live as an adult on my own? provide for myself? what if he dies? i make my first 2k month. i surrender to love. i meet nature. fourteen months i called him for the first time. my dad. it was so painful to hear him speak. he was still sick. i began to slowly give grounded, healing advice. affirmations. colors. introduced the law of attraction. helping him know that his physical body was sick because his mind was sick of negativity. i move into my first apartment with my partner. its beautiful. he pays the rent. i get the entire room, he takes the living room. i was provided for. i continued my business. i held strong visions of travelling with my partner before the lease was up in august. it was my lifelong dream. i prayed for my dad and his partner. sitting in nights of fear and pain. letting go. trusting. rebuilding. health. NATURE. LOVE. date nights. park visits. lake visits. fifteen i saw my dad and his partner! in person! june 6, the first time since march 30. i went with my partner. i was nervous. i also get to see my cat ~~ who has always had siezures, that got even worse when they were sick... who i also had to let go of, not knowing if would survive.. but did! i gave him healing crystals. healing tips. love. hope. he opened. my dad whos heart was closed cracked open. i had never seen this mans heart open since i was a little child before my mom broke his heart. he left his job, you know. when i was a kid i was neglected for that job. one that i had to go to school too many times when i didn't feel because of. one that kept him gone late nights once a week. one that drained him. but the job that supported me physically and financially through my entire life. the job that helped give me a good life ~ his time and energy he gave into this job to provide for his daughter. he realized what it was doing to him. he realized, taylor. he realized. he got a new job. two hours away, a small county on the lake. a chance to start over. leave the karmic city he lived in. he also began to feel his emotions from what happened with the trauma of my mother. this was a miracle. a miracle. a miracle. and so, he would move away... starting his new job during the sixteenth month of this journey, july 13 i know at this point i will be travelling soon and leaving anyways, but could not leave my dad... and so the universe had him leave to set me free. i spent the rest of the month knowing he would move away, and likely i would too. but where? i saw him many times. gave him reiki too. we all went to the cottage together, him, his partner, me, and mine. summer solstice. peace. love. sixteen months i released all of my limitations. i chose love, abundance, freedom, health, bliss. i released my dad, my cat, my childhood home... [never grow up describes this situation]... a 21st birthday, really, a goodbye to my family... i booked a plane ticket. a month and a week to California. knowing, that it would be longer than that one month and a week. myself and my partner. one carry on and personal item. my self soverignty. my dreams. my abundance [first five figure month!!!] i left taylor. i left behind the city i always lived in to follow my dreams and passion. i'm living in my dream location. mountains. forests. lakes. a sacred site in Nor Cal. a childhood dream, if you will. a new life begins the night before i leave i see that you had an album out. folklore. i didn't know, because i had been going through so much stuff within my life that anything that happened online was not present in my life. i listened to caridgan for a few seconds. didn't feel right. i let you go...[knowing, like always, your music will come to me at the exact right time] i got on the plane. three layovers. an overnight train. i begin my new life on the mountain. begin again. seventeen months i am not the same. i have grown. i have healed. my time in the mountain has been the most groundbreaking, expansive, philisophical, healing time of my entire life. feeling like one month was twenty lifetimes of healing and growth. healing all of my childhood wounds, fears, pains. being of service in my business, providing healing for over 55 people. but... it was here where it started to break apart. that one last thing. i let go of the home. the cat. the family. the stuff. there was 1 more thing to let go of... eighteen months kyle, was his name you know. and of course, when we are hurt we go into the victim mindset right away. it is instinct. predetor and prey. it is conditioned into us. this time, after completing a cycle of 3 relationships of emotional manipulation, disrespect, not being loved the way i loved... i took full ownership for it. for manipulating MYSELF. for disrespecting MYSELF. for not loving MYSELF the way I love another. thats when the relationship healing and karma happens. when you take complete ownership for your own mistreatment knowing that this person was simply a mirror of the own hate, anger, and fear you have about yourself. it happened on september 2nd, under the full moon. it started, anyways. i was called to l.a out of Nor Cal. With him. and we Went. This is where the fun part starts, the intention behind this entire story but we're only getting to it right now because of course, I am a writer. The main message has to be supported by a story, right? on september 6th, we had a midnight train. i wanted to listen to music to help me release leaving the city i was living in in Nor Cal, cuz I had grown fairly attached to it. cardigan came into my life. [which i realize as i am writing this and listening to it, the version i have always listened to is the cabin one,... which I am just seeing you realeased on my birthday!!!! july 30th. how interesting] it fell into place this night. and i was meant to hear it now; your music has always been like a spirit guide to me. always a message when i need it. we had a midnight train. my partner got a nosebleed on the way...[stepping on the last train, marked me like a blood stain...] i knew in my heart we would be breaking up... the day before the flight to l.a, the day before the fires, i knew we would be breaking up in l.a. the night that invisable strings was introduced into my life, via my dear soul friend Emma. i knew that this song spoke of my memories and experiences with l.a. l.a was always a place for me to find self empowerment, bravery, and self worth. being the place that i endured my first break up in, l.a taught me self love. i knew that an invisable string was bringing me back to l.a, and really... back to [myself]. despite knowing what was to happen, i held myself through the flight to l.a. it's not like we officially broke up that day, but i knew going on this flight that since i was facing my biggest fears in real life that i would be about to experience my fear of being alone. i flew the day that san fransisco was orange. tiny little 13 row plane. deep fear of planes. in a moment of deep intuition and love, i opened my heart to hold space for the people on the plane that were also terrified of the fires and landing somewhere that was orange. holding people, holding space, through what could be seen on an Earthly scale as a trauma. moving past my own fears and negative thoughts and holding the emotions of love and safety. it was a big moment for me. i listened to invisable strings dyuring the plane ride. and two days later was when my fire happened. september 11 is when we officially broke up.. when i chose to stand up for myself, for my own love + respect, when i knew that i had to leave a toxic and co-dependent relationship... you know, i thought a tsunami was going to happen that day or something and i was going to die. i literally thought this was what was going to happen; but the death that happened was not physical, but the death of a relationship. we were in l.a until the 18th, in the same apartment, trying our best to go through our breakup while living with eachother. still getting groceries together [chasing shadows in the grocery line]... i could barely function. i know you know what co-dependent relationships can get like. beginning to function on your own without the love from them is hell. [cue. this is me trying] having a hard time adjusting!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! letting go of this love. knowing i need to leave. we were in l.a until the 18th, in the same apartment, trying our best to go through our breakup while living with eachother. still getting groceries together [chasing shadows in the grocery line]... the ocean took me down; pulled my knee out. the day after telling my partner i need to do everything on my own and we be completely separate whilst living in this apartment together for at least a week. knowing we likely would stay till oct.my bodies way of still needing to rely on him. coping mechinisms. breakdowns. [pouring my heart out to a stranger, but i didn't pour the whiskey...] (This lyric. After my first relationship, I turned to alcohol. I got very dependent on this, and this runs in my family. It took me until a significant event at a party in 2017 for me to stop, i know you know what i mean. So it was a big deal for me, despite all temptations, to not turn to alcohol). i knew i had to leave l.a our host was offering us to stay until oct 1. i was 100% sure i was, despite living in the apartment with kyle, through breakup [not your typical i hate u breakup tho, one of deep love and mutual, conscious respect and love for eachother] going to stay. esp with how my body was, and my knee. and... if i went back home to Nor Cal, I knew i'd be going alone. And I knew my partner couldn't financially sustain himself at the time to stay anywhere other than back home. I knew he would have to quarentine for 14 days. I knew that by making this decision I would be completely cut off from him. i went to cancel our flight back to Nor Cal. 34 hours before. i was going to stay and stay in a place with a man who didn't have enough self love and worth yet to be able to love me properly. and then it happened. continue to financially support him. continue to love him uncontiionally. and then... sept 16 11:30pm the last excuse. the last invalidation. the last disrespect. the last act of hatred. the last act of emotional manipulation. the last time the gas light would ever turn on. i do not cancel my flight. i walked away. i chose myself. i messaged everybody that i knew to ask for help and support. i knew that this would be the hardest thing I ever had to do. i had to walk away from whom i know on a soul level to be my husband. i know. i know. i know. i know when we have both healed we will come back together in harmonious union; our relationship was all about growing. but it was time to grow apart, in order to grow back together with a stable individual foundation. the last day was magic. it was a new moon. santa monica beach. sunset. shopping. swimming. we allowed ourself to have a night of love. we knew that this was at the basis of our connection; true, undying, eternal, uncondtional love. we will always love each other in a deeper way than can be described in words. no painting, song, piece of poetry could describe this love. and it was painful. painful to love so deeply and openly and vulnerabily, knowing that come 6am I would be headed to the airport It was the most open and vulnerable I have ever been. Allowing myself to openly love so deeply despite knowing what was to come in just some short hours. I really poured my heart out. I opened up. I was vulnerable. I was my true self. And it was one of the best nights of my life, September 17th in Santa Monica, under the New Moon. we stayed up together all night holding each other. sharing a few last kisses. talking about our favourite memories each month of our relationship [i know they said the end was near...] we didn't sleep all night. the alarm went off, 4:50am. time to go. i packed everything the night before. i tied up my lose ends. we held eachother deeply. the final alarm went off, 5:10am. the pink sunrise in the uber on the way to the airport. the way that he didn't cancel his flight to go through security with me. not getting a coffee to spend every last second with him. and we sat in the airport and cried our hearts out. holding each other. crying. in front of anyone who cared to see. knowing one hour before boarding i had to take myself to the bathroom so that i could cry and prepare myself to fly [note: hopefully the airport worker knew we were gunna be okay] 7:48am, i knew the alarm was going to go off in two minutes. i take my power back and stand up, turning the alarm off. i said i have to go now or I will not get on the flight. i tell him he needs to walk away first. i can't do it. no. i'll feel abandoned. i have to be the one. i hugged him. one time. i said goodbye. i wished him well. i told him i love him. i put my backpack on. i get my stuff together. one last hug... one last kiss... and i pulled away. i walked away from the man that i know one day will be my husband and the father to my children to follow my own path of self discovery and worth and love. of healing. walking up to the airline worker, telling her my partner would not be coming on the flight with me. "okay, Miss, i will remove him from your party and from the flight," i held myself together. i did. the best i could. good thing i didn't sleep because that kept me at least less emotional and breaking down than i thought i would be. "now boarding flight xxxx to Sacramento, boarding rows 10-13..." i got myself on the plane. i couldn't believe i was doing this. how am i doing this? i knew when i sat in my seat and the plan began to prepare for departure, that i was completing a cycle of three. a cycle of relationship karma that began with my first, where we broke up on my birthday, 2016 in l.a... completing a cycle where i base my worth on another person, depend on another person, allow myself to get walked over... it was done. i asked that when i took off into the sky from the plane, the perfect line of the perfect song was playing... when i first had my breakup in l.a 2016, i was at a play to support my friend and actress. in this play, she sang a song called brave. this song, and message, got me through my first breakup. she was my rock and i swear the reason i made it through the night of that. l.a 2018, she wrote brave for a tattoo for me. we stopped talking for a while; i learned to be brave for myself. l.a 2020, the moment the plane takes off of the ground... [wool to BRAVE the seasons...] the moment you sang brave; the plane took off. a rush of feeling so proud for myself. knowing i chose me. knowing i chose a journey of self love. knowing i chose a journey of self worth. knowing i chose a journey of self empowerment. i sit here in my soul sister's apartment whilst she is cross-country, writing this. one week after i got back to Nor Cal. One week since my entire life shifted. And I am in the journey. The journey to self love, confidence, worth, empowerment, etc is not just a destination. There is a journey behind it all. It happens to contain a lot of crying. A lot of feeling. Some music. Friends. Good food. A warm coffee from the local coffee shop. Candles. Insence. Journal(S). Rest. Yoga. Meditation. Qigong. Reiki. Fuzzy socks. Oversized fluffy sweaters. Soft blankets. Stuffed animals. Books. Singing bowls. Love. And so, this is where I am. September 25th, seven months later. Wow. Writing this journey out and putting it on paper really makes me feel some things. It makes me feel fucking empowered. It makes me feel strong. It makes me feel brave. It makes me feel fearless. It makes me feel vulnerable. It makes me feel authentic. And with all authenticity, I had to be authentic with myself when I began to write this. Your music has been that constant. I have said it before, and I will say it again. Everything has always left my life but your music has always stayed. Your music has always found me in the right time in the right place. It has always supported me. You have always supported me. I was thinking back today, in a state of elevated joy allowing myself to feel happy that I got the opportunity to meet you through my life journey so far. And that... us meeting had to mean something. There is an invisable string there. There has to be a reason that during all of this your music was there for me. There has to be a reason it came to me in the time that it did. There is a reason for everything. So I write this, with a prayer that you will see this, but a surrender to the knowingness that what is meant to happen is going to happen. Also, a surrender to if anybody actually reads this! This is who I am, raw, vulnerable, authentic. I will always speak my truth, share my journey, and love Taylor Swift. Don't we all? Taylor, if you are reading this... from my soul to yours; thank you. thank you. thank you. seriously, for what you give up to be able to spread these messages via your music in such a global way. i completely see and understand what you have given up to do this. i love you. i love you. i love you. thank you for seeing me. thank you for hearing me. thank you for acknowledging me. thank you for validating me. thank you for loving me. see you next update, your friend Sarah.

[aleatoryalarmalligator]

People get tired of you when you are poor. So many people are poor, poorer than i could even imagine being, poor enough to not be able to eat for days and days or have shoes to wear. It upsets people. It's not exciting. It's economic. It drags people down and decreases their well being overall, but not in a way that people like to really engage in. So when i find myself feeling horrible about how poorly i am doing, I just feel really ungrateful and dumb in the grand spectrum of how life has always been for everyone, and how things are for so many people. I am not exactly living in the worst time in human history. I am also not living with the kind of fear that a bomb may drop on me, or that i will die of some disease. I don't even have any children relying on me. I have a roof over my head, i am not without the bare basics, albeit, the very most bare. But i am kind of falling apart trying to make ends meet, I'm enormously in debt to people who deserve to be paid back and need to be paid back at some point, and i am feeling this sick nauseous feeling constantly whenever i get something i enjoy for myself even if it's just like, a sandwich or a hair tye. I lose sleep over it, because honestly, doing something like that puts me in a financial hole, because truth be told, i absolutely cannot afford to be making those kinds of economic choices for myself. Things are that tight.

People don't understand why i eat so little, or why i don't go out to have drinks or lunch, or why i don't buy new shoes or don't leave my house or get a decent phone, or see a doctor, or just a number of basic things. Honestly, people don't know why i don't smile more often, and it's kind of because i have so few choices right now that i have to live the same day over and over perfectly, or else i won't have enough money to eat for days. Everyone I know makes a lot more money than i do, i watch friends gamble one hundred dollars a night, or drink cocktails or go out to eat or buy new stuff. I can't do those things. If i do, i have to force myself not to eat for a few days. I have to really really pay for that kind of thing later, so it's made it very unworthwhile for me. Telling them i am too poor almost alienates me further, because then they have to feel bad about the contrast of their lives versus mine, so i don't talk about how this poverty thing has been wearing on me. I try to just smile and stay positive, but I feel like i am kind of crumbling into a state of despair. Sometimes i kind of feel like i am choking and I lose touch of my surroundings. I don't talk to anyone about it. There's no use and there are people who are literally sleeping outside in the cold, so what am i even upset about?

I can't really do much to change my economic situation right now, though i do have a longtime plan ultimately. Basically, i worked two years for a company to eventually get into a position where i was able to make good money. It's like, a sought after position essentially. You work two years making very little money, and then you eventually get into a position where you walk out with well over one hundred dollars a night. I was three months into finally having that position and i was finally making good money. I moved out of the place i was living at, which wasn't too great as i was living without a bathroom and had to like, pee outside and stuff. I moved into a really nice place with nicer roommates and i finally had a decent bedroom and bathroom and a respectable living situation closer to where I worked.  And just as i was getting my life set up, the location of the place i worked for shut down suddenly and i was without work. I worked years and dealt with a lot of like, abuse in a way to get to that position, and suddenly it was gone, but i had just moved into a place i could now barely afford. I weighed my options and decided to work at this other location where they accepted me but on the terms i would take the lower position, but it put me in a situation where i was making less money than i had been before i even got the good position i had finally achieved. So, i was financially fucked, basically. Furthermore, it was around this time that all the standing i had been doing in order to get the job where i made that kind of money caught up with me, and i now have a permanent condition in my legs where they ache constantly, and i struggle to bend them. If i even move my leg in a bad position at night on accident, a shot of pain hits me. So i am always basically in some kind of pain, and it's kind of affecting my outlook on life. Not at first, but it's starting to wear on me. I am worried that the more i have to walk and stand a day, the worse it's going to get, but at the same time that's the only thing i can do to make money.

I also went through a break up around that time. It's not really over, but it kind of was there for a moment, and that feeling of your favorite person in the world just kind of dropping you is really horrible. I felt worthless, and trying to establish my self worth afterwards, with no real prospects has been really difficult. I can't even afford to be upset about friends or relationships, or more accurately, the lack there of. It's a money issue. Just an all around series of unfortunate things just hit me unexpectedly, and dragged me down after years of working my way up, and i try not to feel defeated by this, but i kind of do. My best friend is also extremely depressed, and if I talk about this, she doesn't really say much. She can't really be there for me right now, our schedules are opposite, such is adult life, and she's dealing with a bunch of stuff of her own, and there isn't even a lot of room for me to vent or anything at her.

If i get a second job it would help, i would be foregoing sleep because i am already working a full time job, and it would be hard to find a job that went well with the hours i have now. It's something i could do technically, but it would give me no time off, and essentially like 5 hours to sleep a night which i am afraid wouldn't be good for my mental health, and might ultimately be worse for me in the long run. I weigh it out quite often. I have an app on my phone that keeps track of all my money, so i am trying very hard to make sure that i cut every corner. I have everything regulated, down to the portion sizes I am allowed to eat and stay in line. It's about 800 calories a day. I feel hungry all the time. I grit my teeth a lot because there is always this tension of wanting to eat. I am kind of dieting, but if i wasn't dieting, this would be as much as i could afford to eat anyway. I kind of excuse it or make the best of it, because i am also kinda chubby, so technically, i rationalize that at least i am losing weight. I've lost about 25 pounds in the last few months. I can probably lose 30 more lbs before i become underweight. It's dumb, and i kinda have to laugh, but even my tummy fat has become some kind of aspect of my economic situation.

I am trying to stay positive. My longterm goal is ultimately to get the old position i had back, i think I am the next in line once an opening comes up, but that could be several several months from now. I don't know what is going to fuel me even having the will to continue. There is this little voice in the back of my head that just kind of wants to give up. I am tired of trying. I feel like it gets nowhere. I really want to stay positive, and not be bitter. But it is I have to admit, a little hard when my leg is always hurting and I am always hungry and can't really like, enjoy anything that doesn't cost anything. Once i am serving again, I will make more than enough money to pay back the money i owe, and also live a better life. Ugh, but i kind of messed up recently too. I spent days where i almost felt dizzy and distant from myself. I ended up spending money i didn't have, just impulsively. It was like i didn't care anymore about anything for just a few days. It's just like i snapped, and now three weeks later, i am stressing because i don't have enough for rent, it's going to have to be late, and I am scrambling and now having to rationalize that in the next coming month, i am going to have to eat even less, certain days i am just not going to be eating at all. It wasn't even a lot. I just bought stuff that a normal person wouldn't think twice about buying, like a new sweater, a pair of earrings, some socks, a few nice meals, but for me it was something i couldn't afford. I don't even have friends really, so i just listen to a ton of podcasts to fill that void. Which isn't friendship, but it keeps my brain busy i guess. I mean, I have a few pals. I have people i write online, but I just feel like it's disappointing to hear about how poor someone is. I don't want to bring other people down.

Lastly, all of this would be a lot better if i had food stamps or assistance, but i make like ten dollars too much for that. I had a SNAP card for a few months which was extremely nice, but they found out i made too much money and they took the benefits away.

So i guess i just decided to write about it here. I will try to stay positive, and make smart choices and all that. Gotta get ready for work. Thanks for reading my sad little economic blog post.

[agreekdemigod]

Coffee Whim

“Your designs are always so colorful.”

The brush traced a long curve in the canvas, lining in pastel colors the figure of a profile.

“Are you sure you don’t want any of them as your protagonist?”

The shadow must be done right, if he didn’t want it to look opaque. Light shades to enhance the curve of her cheeks and lips, curved in a peaceful smile.

“I wish I had such amazing ideas.”

Should he add a bit of orange at the tips of the petals? Or maybe at the base of the flowers. But then the colour would contrast with the blond of her hair and that just wouldn’t work.

The tips would be, then, but very slightly, as if the sunlight reflected in her curls.

“My eyes hurt a bit while watching it but it is indeed beautiful.”

Adding one last detail, Kaminari left the utensil in the table beside him, eyes fixed in his last piece of work, his breath uneasy as he watched nervously the face in front of him.

His brain hadn’t failed him this time. All the details were perfect, as if she was there in front of him, real and reachable.

The idea of calling his sister crossed his mind as the feeling of keeping it only for his eyes thickened in his chest.

Later, he would call later.

*

All his life, Kaminari has painted everything his mind provided.

His mother used to say she and his father had to run to stop him from painting the walls, at the time when “no’s” didn’t mean anything to him.

He was so small and still that didn't stop him from holding a crayon, even before he learnt how to walk without stumbling. And once his grandma bought him his first brush, he was unstoppable.

His sister only seemed to encourage him. Her bedroom walls were an explosion of colour, doodles of their garden, their family and just random stuff covering every inch from the base to where his tiny hand could reach. Their parents gave up soon after he decorated their own bedroom too.

They had another artist in the family, there was nothing else they could do to stop it. And in all truth, they didn’t want to.

The walls in the house were white but Denki brought them colour, just as he did with everything he touched and everyone he met.

His teachers said he had too much energy, that he was different. Some would tell his parents to find him activities to tire him up while others would state that he must learn to control himself, that everything could be solved with discipline.

The doctors gave his parents the name and a better way to deal with it and they accepted it as a part of the son they loved and cared about and heard attentively  the recommendations that would help their kid to integrate in a society not as comprensible as them.

They encouraged him and were with him with every step he took, ready to catch him everytime he fell.

Denki learnt how to play the guitar from his father himself, and went to his first art class thanks to his mother.

He learnt that drawing helped him with his ADHD and that listening to things was an easier way to memorize complicated stuff.

He learnt the tricks to control his anxiety and how to make his hands movements less obvious in public, specially after being hours sitting in a classroom with his mind flying miles away from the teacher's explanation.

It wasn’t perfect and most of the times he still got nagged by the adults for not staying steady more than ten minutes but he learnt to get used to that too, to shrug off the harsh words or stares, even when sometimes they hurt so much that he had the go to hide in his  mother's arms to find understanding

Things are inevitable in this world, she would say, pressing her cheek against his, her curls tickling Denki's skin.That close to her, he could smell her shampoo and the scent of coffee in her clothes. Things such as love and fate. And you, my dear, are one of those things. You are inevitable, Denki. Inevitable to love and impossible to forget and ignore. She would kiss his temple then and would caress his blonde hair with her nose as she whispered,

You are our star.

*

Denki loved coffee even before tasting it for the first time.

He loved the smell of it lingering on his house’s kitchen, the way his father seemed so happy while drinking it and the profundity of its colour, neither brown nor black and sometimes with a hint of gold.

And he loved its flavour, of course, the sweet and bitter taste of it against his tongue and the million ways it could be prepared and still taste so rich and contradictory.

He loved coffee and the way his mother would smile while preparing it, with the attentive stares of the three coffee addicts in the household on her, as they waited impatiently for it to be ready.

And he kept loving it, even after she wasn’t there to prepare it anymore.

*

“...now I have to find a new fucking job that isn’t a total waste of time and without a shitty pay.” Bakugou growled and Kaminari kicked a can in the middle of the street, doing it a couple of times more before picking it up, talking to the other end of the line as he did so.

“I mean, you could have let that old woman shout at you? I know it would have been shitty but at least that would have let you keep your job. It would be difficult to get hired at this time of the year.” The can clanked when he throw it in the trash bin, loud enough to rival Bakugo's rude scoff.

“And let that fucker continue her life without no one telling her how much she sucked? No way. I may have been fired but shit I don’t regret anything.”

Kaminari sighed but nodded nonetheless. He was right, this world sure needed more people that would face middle class woman to suck it up and stop acting as if everyone debt them something.

Bakugou started ranting again and Kaminari readjusted his grip on his backpack, heavy because of the new assignments and homework he didn't have the energy or motivation to do.

The second part of the semester had barely started and he could already feel the fatigue and stress of the upcoming final project.The fact that he should had started planning it weeks ago wasn't helping either.

And that's why he was there that day.

The tinkle of the doorbell of The Coffee Whim welcomed him as a feeling similar to homecoming replaced the anxiety on his chest and the warm and exquisite scent of the coffee filled his nostrils.

The place was rather small, with wooden floors and big picture windows towards the main street, sofas and rounded tables spread around in an organized disorder. The walls were surprisingly empty, though: only a poster of a porcelain cup and a cork board with coffee recipes hanging on the main wall.

“I'm saving the space for your works, dear.” The owner replied when Kaminari had mentioned it casually one afternoon. “Now, where is the promised portrait of my son?”

Denki had laughed before shrugging helplessly.

“He keeps running away everytime he sees me, how can I paint a kid like that?.”

Kaminari had known Mrs. Midoriya since the opening of the café. He had wandered there one night, back in his highschool days, in the middle of a sexuality crisis that had been eating him for the last year.

He must had been looking as pitiful as he felt because she had smiled kindly to his mumbling and added extra cream and chocolate chips to his order. Kaminari had loved her since then.

She wouldn't be there that time though, having getting married only a few days ago. Her honeymoon would probably last, at least, one more month, and Kaminari sure missed her as well as he was happy for her. (The premise was still open though which he was very thankful for)

The cafe was deserted that day, no sign of Mineta or any of the other baristas at the other side of the counter. They were probably in the kitchen, playing on their phones while enjoying the lazy day.

Instead, a black haired guy was behind the register, his black eyes looking uninterested at the numbers on the screen.

Kaminari stopped in his tracks when he got close enough to see his features. The guy wasn't someone he knew but there was something, like a sensation of deja vu in the back of his mind, that made him feel intrigued.

It had happened before, when he had met some of his friends, random people on the streets or even teachers.

Kirishima used to joke it was because they had met in another universe, maybe in a world of superheroes and villains( or in a medieval world depending on whatever Kirishima's mood that day was. They all had gotten use to his writer mumbling by that point.).

“Oi, are you still there, Denki?”

Bakugou’s voice brought him back, and the blond got suddenly aware of how strange he might look there, standing in the middle of the café while staring at an stranger.

“Just about to order some coffee before heading to the dorms, want me to get you something?”

“A macchiato.”

“Got it. See ya there.”

“Be quick.”

Kaminari put his phone on his hoodie's pocket, took a long breath and went right to the register where the guy hadn’t move an inch in the last minute.

The deja vu sensation stayed there, only increasing when the guy looked up and a pair of black eyes were directed at him.

Truth to be told, he looked miserable. That close, the blonde could see the bags under his eyes, the sick pale tone of his skin and a messy hair as if he hadn’t brushed it for three days straight. He also had one long strip hanging off his hoodie’s sleeve, for some reason.

And still, Kaminari could swear he felt like electricity, shivers of excitement going through his body, like the ones he had when inspiration strike him before painting a new work.

How strange.

*

“-do chai”

Sero stared at the yellow sun eyes for a long moment, his sleep deprived brain trying to focus on what the guy in front of him was saying, his senses still too numb to process  anything that wasn't the utter pain of his back, after a whole night sitting on his desk working on a groupal homework assigned a week ago.

The guy looked around his age, tho he was significantly shorter. He black highlights in his golden hair, a pair of very pretty eyes and a friendly smile, wavering with nervousness as Sero’s silence prolonged.

Oh right. Coffee.

God, he was such a mess.

“Ah, I’m sorry but could you please repeat your order?”

The guy's smile turned sympathetic, in that weird way a college student can recognise another of their kind and their suffering.

“A macchiato and a nevado chai, please.”

As Sero worked, his arms moving as if they had been programated, he could feel the guy's gaze on him. Golden eyes following his movements with careful attention. Evaluating.  

Had they met before? Sero couldn't tell, as tired as he was, but he was sure he would have remembered him. The guy was cute he couldn't deny that.

He was so going to regret not to try to start a conversation or getting his number, once he was wide awake again.

It would be for the best tho. It was too risky, he would probably said something that would ridicule himself, or even worse, something that could offend him.

So no hitting on that dude today.

Handling him his order, Sero looked at the names written in his messy calligraphy in both cups as they slid in the counter.

Denki. Katsuki.

Which one would be his name? The name Denki certainly fit him but who knows, maybe it was the other one. Guessing his name was probably the only thing he could do right now about this guy.

“It’s Denki” the guy said, and Sero blinked, realizing that he had been voicing his thoughts out loud for who knows how long. “Thanks for the coffee”

An small alarm voice started inside sero’s head as he watched the guy leave his cheeks itching in embarrassment.

Did he..?

No, he wouldn’t think about that right now. He just wouldn't,

Going to the kitchen to tell Mineta to get the fuck behind the counter (his break had finished five minutes ago), he noticed something by the corner of his eye, something long and white hanging of his right elbow, an strip of tape probably left by the twins before he got out of home that morning, as a reminder that he still had to fulfill his promise of playing with them that afternoon.

Shit.

His future self was going to regret so many things.

*

“...and he prepared the most amazing coffee, I swear. God, how can the same coffee taste so different? Kaminari's cheeks were flushed by the excitement as he moved his hands in big gestures, his sandwich longly  forgotten in the tray in front of him.

His friends listened in different levels of attention, torned between their own food and the blonde’s story. The college’s cafeteria wasn’t really full that day so they could eat without missing a detail of the story.

“Tastes better when the barista is hot” Mina said and Kirishima laughed immediately. Kaminari wasn't going to deny it. Only facts allowed here. And it was a fact that the dude had been very attractive, yes. Just like his coffee was really good.

“You say that because you haven’t try it, but I’m serious here. It is amazing.”

“I don't know it seems biased. What do you say, Bakugou?” Said Kirisha as he elbowed Bakugo's side, who had been hearing the conversation in silence. “You went there this morning, don't you?”

Kaminari felt his eyebrows rise in surprise. He didn’t know that. And he shared a room with the dude.

“The coffee was decent”

Decent. The group let out a choir of “oh”'s in appreciation. If Bakugou was saying that then it meant it had really been something else, in a good way.

“And the guy?” Insisted Kirishima, excited for an opportunity to gossip.

Katsuki shrugged.

“Rather plain”

Kaminari rolled his eyes as his friends giggled around him. “Sometimes I think you are made of stone or something”

“You told me he had a long line of tape hanging off his elbow.”

“And that only makes him cuter”

“Uh-huh.”

“Wait, why did he have a tape strip on his elbow?”

Denki shrugged.

“It was already there when I went. He looked pretty tired too, as if he hadn't slept more than a couple of hours. And I can tell because he looked exactly like Bakugou does right now, except for the frown of course, and more handsome.”

“Shut up, dunce face.”

“Why are you so meaaan”

As the conversation trailed to another topic, Kaminari turned his attention back to his sandwich, his stomach growling in annoyance for having ignored it for so long. Mina inclined a bit into him, her black eyes staring at him with interest. “You know, you never told us his name.”

Another shrugg. “He wasn’t wearing his name tag”  

Kirishima whistled, and suddenly all the attention was back at Kaminari. “The (still up to debate) handsome barista remains like a mystery” Bakugou barely blinked when everyone turned at him. “What nickname should we gave him?”

“Soy sauce”

“Rude. I suggest You-know-who.”

“And you call mine ‘rude’?”

“Tapey” Mina intervened, and everyone turned to look at her in silence before bursting again in complains.

“That is so lameee”

“And yikes.”

“Yeah, no cool at all.”

She had shrugged and gave them an small smile behind her smoothie.

“But it works better than yours, doesn’t it?”

They were willing to fight that. And they did.

*

Kaminari went to the café that same day once the classes were over. After the conversation with him friends at lunch, the mystery guy topic didn’t leave his brain for the rest of the day, his curiosity increasing as the hours passed.

The café was slightly less empty this time. Only three persons in line and two sit around at the tables. A friendly face was behind the register too.

 “What’s up, Shouji?” He said, once his turn came, not even five minutes later. Sometimes it was like the guy had six arms or something. He moved so fast, not that he was complaining.“Feeling better after your rest? How’s Tokoyami?”

 Shouji's eyes curved friendly, his mouth hidden behind a black mask with a toothy smile printed on it. ( It wasn't Shouji's style at all, too dark and edgy for that and Kaminari could bet that it was Tokoyami's, Shouji's best friend and roommate.)

 “I'm recovered but he insisted that I should use it in case there was some germ around.” he explained, pointing at the mask. “My own are dirty so he let me his, refusing to let me go out if i didn’t wear it.”

“Aw, you guys are cute.”

Shouji ignored his comment. “Anyways, what is you order today?”

 Kaminari smiled, trying to peek over Shouji’s shoulder to see if there was someone else behind the counter. It was impossible, the dude was huge.

 “Just a latte this time.”

 His friend nodded and gave him his change before going the kitchen’s entrance, his hands holding the door open as he peeked inside. “Hey Sero, we are almost out of milk, could you please take care of these orders while I go to the back and bring some?” Some incomprehensible words and Shouji nodded before disappearing inside.

 Kaminari's heart jumped inside his chest when he saw the tall black haired boy from the day before got out of the kitchen. He was yawning lazily as he tied his apron back to its place and his face shined with recognition when he saw the blonde there.

 Both guys blushed immediately. Their gazes trapped in each other for a few seconds before quickly looking away. It was an entertaining sight for the outsiders. And it would had been almost funny if it hadn’t been so lame.

 “Your name” said Kaminari, breaking the silence. It came softly, almost like a whisper but he would take it. Better that than a cracked voice. At the barista's confused expression, he explained “You weren’t wearing a name tag the last time.” Or today.  The realisation crossed the guy’s features once he looked down to his apron to see the empty space in the front of it.

 “I probably took it off before doing the laundry. My mind has been floating around these last days” Not the best choice of words. The guy’s blush got more intense. “It’s Hanta, by the way.”

 “Nice to meet you,” Kaminari said slowly, holding back a laugh at the guy distinct dorkiness, and trying to pronounce it carefully. “Hanta”

 Hanta nodded and went back to work and Kaminari allowed himself of taking a deep breath, fanning himself with his hands to soothe his blush, drawing on the fact he was opposed to him.

 Instead of going to any of the tables or sofas, Kaminari sit in one of the tabourets under the counter and waited for his coffee, trying not to stare too much at the barista and why he found him so fascinating.

He really didn't know why he was acting that way.

Maybe it was because he hadn’t had a real crush in years so his brain was overcoming it by making him act like a highschooler now that he finally has.  

Or maybe it wasn’t and Denki was just .

The twinkling sound of the porcelain cup interrupted his train of thoughts as it was left in front of him.

“Here it is, a classic latte.”  Hanta said, leaving as quickly as he came, ready to work on the next orders.

Kaminari didn’t pay much attention to it. He was still looking down at his coffee cup, where Sero had drawn a lighting in the foam.

Denki.

He waited until it dissolved before taking a sip.

*

As the bisexual disaster that he was, Kaminari took that as a sign to keep going to the café to talk more with the barista.

It started kinda awkward and timid, polite conversations made between breaks and orders as they both tested carefully the waters before taking an step.

Sero made a move first, asking for his number one night, just after Kaminari had finished his coffee and was ready to leave.

It was then when things started to move faster. Once they reached topics they were both interested in, all shyness was left behind.

Kaminari learnt Sero had his same age and that he was studying programming. He had three brothers, one older and two young ones, all boys.

 “I like to babysit the twins.” He said when Denki asked him about them.  “They are so different and at the same time so similar to each other. It just blows my mind.”

 Sero learnt that Kaminari had one older sister and that he lived with one of his best friends. He also learnt he was taking painting classes outside the university, in a total different academy, and that he had been doing it for fun since he was ten.

 “It is not like you stop once you know all the techniques” Kaminari had replied when he saw Sero's arched eyebrows. “You keep taking them because you just love them.”

 They both liked video games and anime, and despite not liking exactly the same genres of music, they were similar enough to enjoy it. And the same went with sense of humour.

“Obviously the pikashook meme wins over the galaxy brain one.”

“You say that because it is like the golden age for pikashook but once it is over you will forget it just like any other trendy meme. But the galaxy brain one is a classic. Totally superior.”  

 There were times where they prefered to be silent, though, not because they were tired of talking, but because they enjoyed each other’s company without interruptions.

 Kaminari used to observe him behind his coffee cup in those moments, taking mental notes of his features to sketch them later, without anyone to see it.

 His art teacher had peeked over his shoulder one morning, nodding in approval at his draft.

“A nice face, you should paint him next time.” Kaminari had nodded and excused himself to go right to his dorm, hype to tell Bakugou what a professional had said and that his opinions were invalid.

 At some point, it became a custom. Kaminari would stop by the café three or four time a week, (way more times he had visited the place in the last months) with the excuse of a coffee whim to tell Sero how his day went, the good and the bad anecdotes, brightening everytime he managed to get a laugh out of him and his heart expanding on his chest everytime he smiled at him.

So Kaminari kept ordering and Sero kept delivering,to the point that the coffee Denki had loved all his life became something even bigger for him. Something brighter.

*

Sero had watched Kaminari coming week after week for over a month now.

Sometimes in the morning, other times in the afternoon but thrice a week without fail, always carrying a backpack or a notebook. The days he wouldn’t they would chat until their phones ran out of battery or some of the blonde’s friend stole it because of the ‘bros before hoes’ rule (By Kaminari’s descriptions of them, they all sounded like awesome people.).

 There would be times where Kaminari would cross the doors looking like a normal college student, wearing a jean jacket, a hoodie or in flannel, and others where he would look like a total disaster, his ripped old jeans and simple shirt covered in paint and marker stains. (Sero would secretly prefer that one a lot, with his hair tied in a messy ponytail, paint stains on a side of his face and his eyes sparkling with excitement as he asked for the day’s special.)

 And he would always smile and Sero would be lying if he said he didn’t ask his grandma for more coffee tips so he could see more of that.

 “It is weird for you to ask me all of this in such a short period of time.”she had told him in one of their calls, just a pair of days ago. Sero had tried to respond but she interrupted him. “And it can’t be only for your job. Don’t they have their own recipes? It must be for a certain someone. And I don’t like the idea of my secret tips being shared with an stranger.”

 “I’m not gonna tell anyone, grandma, I will just prepare him the coffee.”

 “So there is someone!” He decided to end the call there before she managed to get more information out of him and decided to tell his mom.

 And just like that a month passed, with them talking over coffee cups and pastries, pretending it was something as casual as a friendship and ignoring the other's blush and secret stares, if only that bought them more time to not confess their feelings.

They would talk for hours until their voices got hoarse and his cheeks numb for how hard they had laughed, and once the night came Kaminari would say his goodbye and Sero would wave back, and they both will wait for the next time, looking forward for a conversation that hadn't happened yet, but they could imagine and replay in their head in such detail that it would be like a memory.

 *

And then Kaminari broke the chain.

 He had came one late afternoon, his hair even more messy and his shoulders dropped in surrender and Sero hadn't seen someone so miserable out of final exams season in such a long time.

 “Cure my sorrows and pain with your magical coffee, oh good sir.” The blonde had mumbled, with his face against the counter, in front of where Hanta had been drying a cup because of the lack of customers in line.

 Sero hadn’t said anything, he only stared at Denki for a few seconds before going to the coffee machine and return with a big plastic cup of a caramel coloured drink, with a lot of cream and syrup on top.

 “Drown them all.” He said as he waited patiently for Kaminari to gain enough strength to rise his head and take a sip.

 The impact was obvious. Denki's eyes opened in surprise as the mix of sugar and coffee exploded in his mouth and caressed his palate.

 “Jesus Christ, what is this?”

 Sero shrugged as if it wasn’t much, but the small curve of his lips betrayed his satisfaction.

 “Just an Arequipe.”

 The blonde shook slightly his head, as if trying to clear his thoughts, watching in astonishment the divine drink he was holding .“This is the first time I’ve tasted something like this”.

He could feel some remaining cream on the tip of his nose, but he couldn't care less. He would whip it later. “It is so sweet and cold. I’m about to cry.” He really felt tempted to, only to emphasize his point. “How did you know this?”

 “My grandma is colombian, and every good colombian knows their coffee.”

 “That’s awesome.” And then a question popped in his mind and he couldn't just not ask. “Can you talk in spanish then?”

 Sero had smiled before saying:

 “Un poquito.”

 It physically hurt Denki not to scream. Dear god. Could he get anymore perfect? He made a dramatic play of a heart clenching and Sero let out a muffled laugh, watching attentive how Kaminari enjoyed his coffee.

 “Back to your issue…” He said, after a long silence only interrupted by Denki's happy sighs.

 “Give me a second to put my thoughts in order. I can't even remember it right now. This has cured my everything” He took another long sip. “Wow. Okay, so humm, well okay, I will explain it all in detail so you can’t miss a thing.” licking the cream out of his lips, Kaminari took a long breath before starting.

 “I'm an animator student, and by the end of the semester we have this huge project where we write an script of a work of our own. It is not only an script tho, but a whole presentation of our story.” he explained, fidgening in his seat. “We write it all in a notebook, adding sketches of the places and the profiles and designs of the characters and it requires so many details and work to put it all together. It is like trying to put all your ideas in something real, in paper and ink.”

 Sero let out a long whistle. “Man, that sure sounds cool”

 “And it is! But it is also very frustrating because, what if i do it wrong? What if it ends up being the worst thing the teacher has ever read? I can't deal with this pressure, the ideas just don’t come.” Or not good ones, at least. “It is like I had lost the ability to create something that actually mattered.” Kaminari blushed, noticing how much he had said already. But the waterfall of words didn’t stop and they probably wouldn’t until he had said everything.

 “And everyone seems always so focused on my work, comparing themselves with me and I don't understand. I ve seen their works and they are all so lovely, so different to my own.” The blonde bit his lower lip, as his hands played with the now empty cup. “ And i thought i was okay with that, you know. With my style being so colorful and weird and unconventional.”

 The way he said it didn't make it sound like a compliment, despite that was everyone meant when they saw his works.

It never felt like it was one though, not even once,not for him.

 “Recently when I see my ideas I just-I just can't seem to find them to be anything else than that. I only see them as obnoxious and it is killing me.”

 Kaminari thought about his notebook of sketches, the art classes and the painting he kept in his apartment, hidden of the world’s eyes. “Because I do like drawing and creating. But now i wonder if that's enough. What can an artist do when they can’t create something that isn’t garbage?”

 And cut. Kaminari took a long breath as he tried to relax his fists, his fingers numb by how strong his grip had been.

Sero hummed, and the blonde gulped in anticipation. The black haired guy seemed to be thinking about his words, his gaze low as if he was lost in his thoughts.

“I certainly can't tell you if you are or not talented enough,” he admitted, “I haven’t really seen any of your works and to be honest I don’t know if my opinion has much importance when I barely know anything about art”

Kamina wanted to fight that. Because it would, at least for him.

“But,” he said, the tip of his tongue poking softly his upper lip, as he tried to find the correct words to express his point of view. “Sometimes what makes humans to create good things isn’t only our confidence or talent, because we could have any of them, or even both, and that wouldn’t garantize us to stop procrastinating and start doing things.”

“Without resolve, us, creators, are just nothing. Because we could have many ideas, the resources and abilities to make it happen, and it would still mean nothing if we just don’t get in front of the screen or paper and start working on it. Do you have the talent? That’s really good. Do you have ideas? That’s even better. You don’t need the approval of the rest to do what you love, then why would you need it while you are creating it?”

Opening tenderly Kaminari’s fisted hands, Sero traced with his fingers the marks the nails had digged in the soft skin, looking at the stains of graphite in Denki's fingertips as he spoke.

“Have confidence and resolve, and then you will immediately have the talent everyone always talks about.”

The blonde looked at his extended palms and Sero’s own placed gently on them. They were different. Sero's fingers were longer and paler, kinda bony even. His were smaller in comparison, with round nails and rough palms. The contrast was fun to look at.

“That's” said Denki, after a short pause,where he let go Hanta's hands so he could look right at his black eyes “...some pretty good advice.

He was met with a playful smile.

“Barakamon's wise words.”

“I really do need to read the manga.”

Sighing, Kaminari smiled, his eyes shining like liquid gold as he took Sero’s hands to hold them again, their palms facing each other above the wooden table. “Thank you.” he said and Sero nodded, looking at their intertwined fingers with an small smile on his lips.

“Always glad to help.”

*

“If you could change something about yourself, what would that be?”

“Like a possible change? Or something you aren't but you wish you were?”

Denki shrugged. “As long as it is a change”

It had been a few days after the last time they had seen each other. Since the night Kaminari had gone to vent about his studies, their interactions seemed to have changed. Not a lot, but definitely different from how it was before. There was a feeling of trust there now, as well as an slight vulnerability, than instead of scare them out, only made their bond stronger, knowing the other one wouldn’t use it for their advantage.  

They also touched a lot more too. they were starting to get more comfortable in getting into the other one’s personal space, as if the hand holding event had broke an unspoken restriction of physical contact.

And Kaminari had to admit, that he liked that.

Back to the present, Sero seemed to think a bit about the question before responding.

“My hairstyle, maybe? Mina keeps insisting that I should get an undercut asap.” (Yes, he knew Mina. Apparently they went to the same university. That’s why she had being so curious about his story when his description of Sero fit her friend’s looks. The world sure was small.)

Kaminari tried to picture him with an undercut and he found out that it was easier than he thought by how much it would suit him. His face would be more visible, changing his looks from relaxed fresh boy to mature and playful guy.

He would definitely look hot as fuck.

And people would start noticing it too, sadly.

“And why don't you do it?” he said, trying to sound unaffected.

“Because I'm scared of messing it up.”

Impossible.

“What about you?” asked Sero. “What would you change?”

Kaminari didn't hesitate. “I would like to have freckles.”

The blonde played with the spoon on his empty cup, his voice and smile going softer as if he was remembering something sweet, “My dad has them and so does my sister. I think I’m the only one that just wasn’t gifted with them.”

His mother had them too, around ten in every cheek. She had many more though, in the entirety of her shoulders upper arms. Like stardust.

A gentle poke on his face startled him.

“I think you have, though they are very tenuous.”Sero’s finger touched an small dot in Kaminari’s cheek, and then another one next to his ear. “More than freckles they look like tiny moles.”

There was one just above his upper lip too, just in the border of it and another one in the arc of his nose.

Hanta's finger caressed slightly the dots, following them all as if they lead somewhere, tracing an imaginary path in Denki's blushed skin.

The last one was next to Kaminaris right eye, that was widened in awe and embarrassment.

And alarm went off inside Sero’s head, too late as he registered his action and took off his hand out of Denki's freckled face. His own face flushing in an instant. “I’m sorry, I just-” He seemed as lost of words as the blonde himself.

Kaminari opened his mouth, his voice seemed to be failing him as his intense blush seemed to extend from his whole face to the tip of his ears.

“It is alright.” he finally managed to say, “It’s okay”

Kaminari tried to shrugged it off but the memory of Sero's eyes roaming over his features, his face so close to his that he felt his breath tickling his skin made him difficult to breath.

 It had been overwhelmingly private. And somehow, deleitable.

 Sero must have been thinking something similar because his face was getting redder as the minutes passed.

 “I think your coffee is getting cold.” he croaked and  Kaminari was suddenly aware of the few people who were also at the café and the messy notes and draws that he had left on the table, that were the main reason he had came today.

 Mumbling a quick thanks and a goodbye, Denki stuffed all of his things on his backpack, his mind reproducing the moment again and again, and thoughts about what would have happened if he had close the distance between them there.

 Yep, it was definitely time to go. He would tell him about his project next time he saw him.

 Or text him. That sounded a lot better.

*

“I think I’m falling hard” said Denki that night, after staring at the ceiling for two long hours. In the bed at the opposite side of the room, Bakugou muffled against the pillot.

 “For who? The plain dude from the café?”

“Okay first of all, he’s not plain. Have you seen those arms? Or that wide back? He has the most tender eyes too…-”

“I can see where your priorities are.”

“And secondly,” continued Kaminari “he makes the best coffee in town just so you know, so he's not just any dude from the café. He’s THE dude from the Café.”

Bakugou rolled his eyes and Kaminari sighed. That wasn’t even the point of all of this.

“I'm just saying, he's so nice and funny. And so considerate and he listens and…”

And he’s special.

Because he can give an amazing advice while referencing a shonen manga.

Because his laugh is so sincere and loud and joyful.

Because he makes this furrowed expression while he tries to decipher Mineta’s chicken scrawl and because he never really minds all the harsh complains some clients say unless it is something unfair or mean to his coworkers.

Because his jokes always make me laugh and because he gets all my vine references.

Because this is the first time I’ve feeling this strong about someone.

“I just don't feel like pretending we are only friends anymore.”

The sound of the sheats and the creaking of a bed made Kaminari turned his head, his golden eyes facing his friend’s red ones, both of their expressions neutrally serious as they looked at each other.

“I don’t fucking know. Have you tried asking Mina?

“I can’t, he’s her friend and she will embarrass me trying to organise a date or something”

Bakugou seemed to bite his tongue to hold back a biter reply. He closed his eyes before taking a short breath and said, his voice even and calm. “I thought you wanted to date him?” 

“I do!”

 “I understand no shit.”

 Kaminari blushed, playing to intertwined his fingers just as he always did everytime he was feeling shy or he talked about something too personal.  “But I want to ask him myself, you know. And also, I'm pretty scared. I haven't dated anyone since high school and you had seen how good things went back then.”

 Bakugou hummed in agreement and Kaminari waited for him to say something else, the knowledge that will solve all his problems, a new point of view he had myself that the genius Bakugou had sure catched.

 And then Katsuki said: “You are pretty fucked up.”

 Kaminari almost got up to kick him and demand a true answer. Only the love for his friend and his self-preservation stopped him.

 “Don’t you have anything else to say? I already know that.”

 Silence. Or Bakugo had fallen asleep or was actively ignoring him. And since it was pretty late and his friend hated to be woken up for littleness, it was probably the second one.

 But then Bakugo’s voice came very low, almost like a whisper, and Kaminari needed all his attention, to not miss a word.

 “If you really like that asshole as you say you do,” he started, his voice steady and calm despite the harshness of his words. “then why not risk it and just ask him out? I mean, wouldn't that be better than just staying around watching him without really having any right to do more? Only because you were too scared to risk it? If you have the opportunity to make a move, because you know it is mutual, then you should stop being a pussy and just do it.”

 They both remained still a few minutes, the words hanging above their heads in the silence of the room.

 He was right.

 And yes, Bakugo most of the time was but there was something now, not only in his voice but in his attitude, that made him look more mature, softer. Like if he talked from experience. Something had changed and Kaminari couldn’t tell what, how or when it had happened, but he sure liked it.

 “Thanks man” he said and Bakugou hummed again, followed by a long comfortable silence after, the one someone shares with a roommate before going to sleep.

 And then Kaminari interrupted it with “Hey, do you know that I have freckles”

 “I would say they are more like small moles.”

 “Yeah, he said that too!”

 Bakugo groaned against his pillow. “Jesus fucking Christ.”

 “I know right”

 “When the fuck did this become a fucking sleepover talk?”

 “The moment you gave me advice. You have exposed yourself, Katsuki. Now give me all those juicy gossips. I heard from Kirishima that there's this cute boy in your Ethics classe-”

 Throwing a pilow at him, his friend screamed and cursed, the mature and empathic Bakugo disappearing in a matter of seconds leaving the classic angry dandelion they all loved and appreciated, jumping out of the bed and ready to fight Denki to death.

 Kaminari’s giggles turned into peals of laughter once he saw his friend’s blushed face, and Bakugou started to curse even more colorful and louder.

They both ignored the protesting knocks on their door for the noise, as they played catch around the room as if they were kids, the atmosphere turning playful again.

 *

Unsurprisingly, Mina arranged a date even without Kaminari asking.

“I can’t keep watching you two dancing around each other any longer.” She had said, when Kaminari had sent her a fifteen seconds long audio of him screaming “WHYYYYYYYYY”

 “It is this sunday, 5.pm., in the east entry of the Amusement Park. And you better go or I will tell Jirou to kick your ass.”

 To be honest, she didn’t need to. Kaminari was definitely going.

 Sure, he was nervous and embarrassed as heck, but the idea of spending a whole afternoon with Sero, even if it was a fake date, made him shiver with excitement.do de

 An hour before the meeting, Kaminari looked at his outfit’s reflection in the mirror for the third time already. He had bought a new pair of ankle boots only for that and even managed to convince Mina to let him one of her furry coats, after many hours of begging and promises of taking care of it over his life.

 “Should I do something to my hair?” He asked Kirishima, who was laying on couch, watching lazily Kaminari’s efforts as he ate the last bag of potato chips in the apartment. Bakugou would probably kick his ass for that later but he didn’t seem to care much by his relaxed expression as he chew.

 “Nah, leave it like that. Makes you look kinda wild” Perfect, then.

 “Should I try cherry red or raspberry fuchsia lipstick?”

 “Go fuchsia, man”

 The make up were his sister’s, who had looked at him weird when he explained her why he needed it for. “Is it really necessary? It is only your first date with this guy.”

 Yes, it was. It was part of the deal.

 12:35: hey quick question, are we really doing that date this sunday

 12:37: Yeah why not, Mina was so kind in asking me out for you.

 12: 38: She said she was done. That we’ve been delaying it too much.

 12:42: The nerve of that girl

 12:43: Some people have never watch the teletubbies and learnt the important values of life and it shows.

 12:45: I can’t believe I got asked out through my friend who also asked out the other person in my name

 12:47: It is like a fanfic plot or something

 12.48: Where the dudes decide to fake date so their friends can let them in peace

 12:50:...and we were fake dating

 12:50: omg we were fake dating

 12: 55: what the heck does someone even does in a fake date

 12: 56: idk, act like they care? Or pretend that they do not care as much as they do, depending on the fanfic.

 12: 57: let's turn it into the next level then

 12:57: I’m listening

 12:58: Let’s care too much.

 It had been an hilarious idea, and they both had agreed on it,  but as Kaminari walked to their point of reunion he wondered if he hadn’t overdone it. Maybe the lennon sunglasses were just too much. 

 Act and look like if they were a pairing out of a cliche novel shouldn't be difficult but still, there was this tiny voice in his head that told him that maybe he had went too far, that he would scare Hanta away as all his other dates back then in high school.

 But Kaminari wasn’t backing away now. He knew Sero and they had made a deal. He would have to wait to see him to see if he was up to the challenge or if he did got scared.

 And he was not disappointed.

 Just as they had agreed, Sero had been waiting in front of the ice cream bus track that always parked in front of the Amusement Park, wearing a pair of ripped sky-blue jeans, a turtleneck without sleeves and a fedora to top it all. He was also wearing hipster glasses, the thick black frame positioned elegantly in the arch of his nose, as if they had been made for him. The blonde took a mental note about asking him about his outfit later. Because damn.

 The guy was good, Kaminari had to admit, but not enough to beat his raspberry fuchsia lipstick.

 “Sorry for the wait. Ready to go?”

 Sero turned, following the sound of his voice and Kaminari waited expectantly for a reaction, something in his face that told him that he liked the blonde's outfit.

 For a moment it looked like he was about to burst into laughs but Hanta composed himself quickly before smiling charmingly and extending right arm, offering it to the blonde to hold as they walked. Cheesy.

 “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

 *

The best thing about autumn was that there was a lot of breeze.

And not the cold winter breeze, that makes your cheeks itch and freezed your fingers, no. But the refreshing autumn breeze that carried leaves around and smelled fresh and clean.

 That afternoon though, the only thing Kaminari could smell was the snacks from the food stalls around them.

 Denki inhaled deeply as he watched intensely the cans he was supposed to knock down, at least two if he wanted a decent price.

The man running the booth coughed impatiently and the blonde put his best Bakugou resting bitch face while actively ignoring him.

He was about to win this game. The man could wait.

Sero smiled apologetically at the booth's owner before elbowing him softly between the ribs. “Do you know that we still have another games to try, don't you?”

 “After I get this one. I've almost done it”

 Kaminari closed his eyes, trying to gain all the concentration before he directed his throw at his targets, with the confidence of a winner.

The luck was on his side.

The two cans that he needed fell to the ground, one of them knocking the other one as it fell, and the blonde smiled to the sound of the bell announcing his victory as the man told him to choose his price.

 “A well earned plushie for you” Denki said to Sero, handling him the small stuffed animal of a fluffy grey chinchilla hanging from a keychain.

 Sero received it with a wide smile, before hanging it from one of his belt loops. “Just for now, so I don’t lost it.” he explained. “This little guy would look perfect in my backpack.”

 Humming happily, Kaminari scratched ‘win a plushie for him’ off his to-do-list, satisfaction filling him as he took Sero’s hand on his.

 Kaminari couldn’t deny it, he was excited. He kept looking around, searching for activities to do together, trying to complete all the things-to-do in the least time possible.

 His eyes sparkled when he saw another objective, Another point of their list that they still hadn’t achieve on sight.

 Holding Sero’s hand to make him stop, Kaminari pointed a photo booth some meters behind him, the shiny lights glowing brightly, as if telling them to come inside.

“We gotta immortalise this moment,” he explained, while dragging him inside. “you don’t know when you will have another opportunity of having a fake date”  

Hanta laughed as he watched Denki’s fingers roam over the buttons and options, choosing some before changing his mind and choosing again.

 “Just choose the one the corniest one.”

 “I'm trying to do that but I want them to match with my outfit.”Kaminari hummed before selecting one. “Okay this one is the one. May you do the honours?” He asked, pointing the button that would confirm it all and started taking the pictures.

 They decided to get three pictures each once it was over.

 “You can choose first.” Sero said, before pointing at the chinchilla hanging of the loop of his jeans. “You just won me this, it would be only fair”

 “You bought me cotton candy before. We are technically even”

 “Look at this little guy, and tell me he definitely isn't worth more than cotton candy.”

 Kaminari didn’t need to look at the small puff the chinchilla was, with its tiny ears and black eyes, and its long and fluffy tail to know that it was the cutest thing he had ever seen.

 “You made a damn good point.” He said before giving Sero the ones remaining and saving the other three in the pocket of his furry coat.

 “Now let’s get in the line for the rollercoaster again, the one who screams first buys the other one a hot dog.”

 “Deal.”

*

 “You know if this wasn't a fake date then we should probably  have gone and eaten something for dinner before the food stalls close up.” Sero said, once it started to get dark. Instead, Kaminari had looked at the red sky, orange and yellow mixing as the sun descended on the sea, and nodded his disagreement.

 They had time and there was something more important to do now.

 “This is a fake date” the blonde reminded him, pointing at the attraction in front of them with decision. “so, as the fake-dating-rules say, we shall get advantage of the sunset and go and watch it in the ferris wheel.”

 Sero had looked at the ferris wheel, its colorful lights  and the small line for it, before looking back to blonde, whose eyes were shining at the idea of getting up there, the excuse clear as water.

 “Everything just to follow the fake dating rules.”

 Kaminari smiled like a kid who had just received a candy.

 *

 To be fair, the fanfics had a point in using the ferris wheel for the climax of a date.

 Sero had to admit the view from the top was pretty breathtaking. All the attraction’s lights and the people gathered around them under the orange sky. He could have appreciate it more though, if Kaminari hadn't been poking him in the leg every time he saw an All Might through the car's window as they ascended more and more.

 “Have you notice how many kids are obsessed with All Might since the new season came out?” He had said earlier, when they had come across a group of children wearing the superhero costume. “It sure does bring back memories.”

 Sero’s thoughts got interrupted by another poke from Denki, his eyes not moving from the window as he searched for the distinct blonde hairstyle amongst the crowd.

 “Oh, there's another one.” Poke.

 Hanta guy looked at the boy's features. The sunlight illuminating his face, turning his eyelashes and hair pure gold. It was entrancing,

 He looked at the curve of his cheekbones, the small moles spread around the smooth skin and those raspberry colored lips that seemed to never stop smiling.

 Sero wondered when it had been the last time he had been that immersed in someone to notice such small details, and to like every one of them.

 Never, his brain responded, you’ve never fallen this hard.

 If he kissed Kaminari right now, just as when they had joked before getting in, would the boy react well? Would he freeze in surprise, his body stiffening as Sero inclined to hug him? Would he kiss him back? His pretty eyelids closing as his tongue dance with his own?

 He could. do it right now and find out. Less than thirty centimeters. He knew he wanted to, he had wanted it for a long time, but the idea of Kaminari rejecting him fueled his hesitation.

 Kaminari poked him again, pointing at the window with a wide smile.

 “Look there's a mini Eraserhead too!”

 Hanta sighed and saw the blonde's eyes sparkling like stars, just as every time he got excited by something.

 No, Sero wouldn’t do any move today and that wasn’t something bad

 After all, Denki always was a beautiful sight.

 *

 After that one attraction they decided they couldn't delay their hunger any longer. 

 Their stomachs complained loudly, as a reminder that they hadn't received any food since lunch and Kaminari told him he knew a shortcut to the nearest McDonalds.

 They got lost because who would have thought the same streets would look so different at night?

Apparently not Kaminari.

 *

 The cashier barely blinked when she saw them: two young boys dressed as vintage models, looking exhausted and ready to faint from starvation at any moment.

 Kaminari went to search for a table as Sero ordered, releasing himself of the boots once he spotted a free table near the corner.

 Checking his phone as he reclined his tired back against the cushions of the sofa, Kaminari unlocked his phone. It had stayed forgotten in his pocket the whole day. He had many messages from Mina(demanding him details about how the day went), a pair of Jirou and even one of his sister, who was asking him when he was free so they could have quality siblings time together.

 He didn’t have any intention of answering Mina’s (at least not right now), but he answered Jiro’s and his sister’s before putting it back to his pocket, where he felt the smooth texture of the paper against his fingers.

 Kaminari looked at the pictures they had taken on the photo cabin earlier that day, both of them smiling and doing silly poses and expressions. Each of them funny and completely unique.The last one was his favourite though. A picture of they laughing while looking at each other's eyes, totally lost in their own private joke.

 Sero appeared a pair of minutes later, carrying a tray with their orders.

 “So, a Macnificent, a Big Mac, two big portions of fries and one milkshake to share.”he said, holding two straws up so Kaminati could see them.

 The blonde smiled cheekily, an eyebrow playfully raising as he looked at the straws.

 “Damn it, boy, you really want to get in my pants, don’t you”

 Hanta laughed, his eyes shining with amusement behind his glasses.

 “Oh right I've been wanting to ask you, where did you get those glasses?

 “They are actually mine” Sero explained as he took a bite of his burger. “though I mostly use them at home.”

 “You wear contacts all the time?”

 Sero shrugged. “I used to play volleyball in high school, so I had to get use to them.” He quirked his nose as if remembering something painful. “Volleyball and glasses aren't a good match.”

 Kaminari cleaned his hands in the napkin before direct them to Sero’s glasses. He pulled them off and then on again, humming thoughtfully as he watched the other guy's face.

 “It is weird, no, not weird, but seeing you with glasses… I don't know it feels different.”

 “You know I'm nailing the Jeff Goldblum look”

 “Blasphemy.” Kaminari said before nodding appreciatively.  “But seriously, it isn't bad. think I actually like it.”

 “I can't believe you when you are wearing Barney's furr.”

 “Tell that right to Mina's face.”

 The guy arched an eyebrow before pointing at Kaminari’s mouth.

 “Is the lipstick also hers?”

 “My sister's. It was this one or cherry red. I look amazing in both either way.”

 “Woah you sure took your time to choose your outfit, huh”

 Denki rolled his eyes.

 “And you are telling me you didn’t? or is that turtleneck  yours?” He snatched playfully the hat, Sero's smirk turning wider as Kaminari put it over his own head “And the rest?”

 Sero snickered and sipped through his straw before nodding. “We may look extra but that isn't something bad” He looked so happy and relaxed there that Denki’s heart couldn’t help but flutter in his chest.

 Christ, this guy was too much for him.

 “We do, indeed.”

 *

 After that, they walked on silence to the bus stop, hearing the sounds of the street once the night was on its full.

 Kaminari had given up on the boots, not willing to put them on again after freeing his feet, so he was walking on his socks now.

 “At least until the bus arrives”, he explained to Sero’s exceptical look, “No way I’m walking bare feet on that cold metal.”

 That had been once they got out of the restaurant. They were in silence now, the knowledge that the date was close to its end hanging heavy in the air.

 “I had fun today” said Sero and Kaminari smiled back at him. He had smiled and laughed so much that day that only by doing that  his cheeks hurt. How cool was that?  A lot. A hella lot

 “Yeah me too, I gotta thank Mina later for this”

 He could already see Mina’s knowing-all smile, and her cheeky attitude once he told him how it all went. The worst part is that he really wanted to share it with her. She could be kinda nosy sometimes but she was always there when you need her. Kinda like a heroine.

 “What did she say to you to convince you?” Kaminari asked, not even trying to hide his curiosity at that point. The whole day had been a ride (both figurative and literally.) and he was too tired to pretend right now.

 “Isn’t being Mina enough?” Sero said and Kaminari nodded in an unspoken “Touché”  as the silence sunk between them again.

 At least until Sero asked suddenly. “Why do you think she had to convince me?”

 The world seemed to stop then.

 Kaminari gaped at him, his mind suddenly blank and his cheeks burning. His mouth moved automatically, the words leaving his tongue in an instant.

 “Let’s go on a date again.” Both of them blinked at each other and Denki explained quickly: “Not today, of course! I meant another day, you know, without all of this fake dating thing.” Biting his lip nervously he said: “As ourselves.”

 He could hear his heartbeats as he waited for an answer, playing with his fingers as he saw Sero’s mouth move in response.

 “Bold of you to think I haven't been myself the whole day.”

 Kaminari arched an eyebrow, then looked at Seros exposed arms and then back at his face. The guy snickered. He had been obviously kidding, the idiot. How dare he, didn’t he know how nervous he-

 “Alright.” Sero said, shutting any complain up inside Kaminari’s head. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

 Hanta’s hand reached for his own, playing gently with his fingers before intertwining them and his smile was blinding and beautiful and Kaminari wondered why it took him so much to ask him out, thanking Mina a million times in his head.

 “This time for real.” Sero said and Kaminari nodded. He couldn’t wait.

 *

 “Dude,” said Kirishima “this universe is so good.”

 Kaminari spinned even faster on his chair, the world turning a blur around him. He was feeling particularly anxious that afternoon, which wasn’t contributing to his creative mood. An that was the main reason he had stayed in his room that day, instead of going to the café as always. To finish the rough draft of his project.

 That had been the plan but...

  “They are not gonna end up together, aren't they?” Kirishima asked and Kaminari winced internally. No, he didn’t plan to. They were only friends, their romantic partners weren’t going to appear until a few more events later.

 “Please, tell me Elysia isn’t going to die.” She was already an orphan, no way he wasn’t giving her a happy ending.

 “Aren’t you asking too many questions?” Bakugo frowned in confusion, pointing with his chin at the rest of the papers gathered around the carpet. “Isn't it all draw and written there?”

 “Yes, but there’s parts that aren’t complete” Kirishima said as he handled the notes to Katsuki.“It is so good”

 “It is still a work in progress,”Kaminari explained, as he stand up to open the window. So many spins had made him feel nauseous and he needed some fresh air to calm down a bit. There was also another reason, but he tried to ignore it “Just some ideas written around. I don’t even have a main character yet.”

 “How is that possible? Dude, you have no idea how much I love it, I’d write a 34k fanfic about this, I’m dying to get to know more about this world.”

 The fact that it was Kirishima the one saying that just made Kaminari’s anxiety grow stronger on his chest.  He hadn’t been planning on showing it to his friends yet. Specially not Kirishima. They had just bursted in the middle of it, holding a bag with soda and snacks and declaring it a movie night.

 And he was happy to see them, he always was, but he felt like he needed some time for himself for now. To create and think. And definitely not dealing with the pressure of his work being examined by his talented and creative friend.

 “You don't have to compete with his ideas or do the same thing you know.” Mina said and Kaminari felt ashamed instantly, despite probably not being his fault at all. She was just too good at reading people.

 The girl was looking at him from her position in the bed, far enough so the other two couldn’t hear them. “He doesn't really realises how intimidated people can get just by hearing his opinions, despite them being always positive. He’s that dense about his talent.”

 Mina looked at the guys, to Bakugo’s thoughtful expression as he read the profiles of the characters and Kirishima’s excited chatter, showing the spiky blonde some of the landscapes Kaminari had draw.

 “But the same goes for you.” continued Mina and Kaminari looked back at those black eyes, which looked at him with sincerity. “Believe me when I say we all admire you as or even much more than you admire us. You create such pretty things, Denki. And you bring them all to live with only a pencil or a brush and it is amazing. Like, really amazing.”

 “We also know you had been having a creator’s block since some weeks ago.” Kaminari blinked at that, honestly surprised. He had tried to act like it hadn’t been bothering him but it seemed nothing went over his friends’ heads. Specially when you have someone as observant as Bakugou as your roommate. “Just don’t be scared in telling us your artistic problems, okay? We may not totally understand them but we want to be there for you. For everything.”

 “I will, I promise.”

 The pink haired girl smiled and layed totally down on his bed, pointing at the two other boys, who were still talking about the project. “You should try to add Sero to the squad you know”

 “Oh my god, Mina.”

 She shrugged. “If you won’t do it, I will.”

 And the worst thing was that Denki actually knew she would.

*

Sero looked at the board without looking, his fingers tapping softly against the desk, in an imaginary rhythm only he could hear. In the front of the classroom the teacher was explaining something that sure would come in the exam but he had given up on trying to pay attention long ago. (He would have to ask his friends to send him their notes later, the audio he was recording wouldn’t be enough.)

There was only ten minutes left for the class to be over and still it felt like forever. Sero sighed as he unlocked his phone, not even bothering in going unnoticed.

 1:20: Hey, do you like sushi?

 1:23: is that where you are gonna take me today? ;)

 1:23: Yeah, I like it. Let's go for Bubble tea at some point too

 1:24: And pair it up with donuts :sparkle: :sparkle: :sparkle:

 1:25: you know me ;*

 “Who’s that?” Sero startled in the middle of his response and Satou hummed, peeking over his shoulder while trying to read what was on the screen.“Your girlfriend?”

In the seat on his left, Ojiro snickered.

“Don’t you know?” he said, reclining in his chair in the seat on his left as if he was telling them a secret. “He has a date today”

 His friends let out a choir of whistles that turned into laughs when they saw Sero’s irritated expression.

 “So that’s why you had been distracted the whole class, uh?” Hanta rolled his eyes despite the assumption being absolutely correct. But they didn’t need to know that.

 The bell rang and the teacher dismissed them all with a nod and Sero used the opportunity to fled off the classroom, not willing to give any more details to his friends that they will sure save for blackmail him later.

 The day was sunny, which was weird, being winter so close, but Sero enjoyed the warm sunlight as he walked to the meeting  point, his heart beating strongly in his chest with anticipation.

 Kaminari wasn’t there yet, which wasn’t a surprise. Sero had noticed that the blonde always seemed to be running to get on time to his meetings. He tended to get distracted very easily and once he realised how much time has passed, he was already late.

 Sero spotted Kaminari as he turned a corner, watching him waiting for the traffic light to turn red before crossing the road.

 No ankle boots, lennon glasses nor raspberry lipstick. Just the classic Denki, with his hair tied up in a ponytail and wearing a jean jacket and a simple t-shirt, looking as excited and nervous as he felt.

 A date as ourselves.

 It wasn’t that unplanned tho. They would go for sushi and watch a movie. Hanta had already bought the tickets, two seats in the middle row (not too close, not too far) for the 10PM play.

 In the meantime they could do whatever they wanted.

 “Let’s go to the arcade,” Kaminari said, once they got out of the restaurant. They spent two hours there before getting bored and that’s when they started suggesting places to go, dismissing the ones that would take too much time for another occasion.

 No to the zoo, yes to the karaoke.

 Who would have known that Denki knew a respectable list of 70’s songs?

No to the ice skating parlor, yes to abandoned house near the park.

 It was all laughs and fun until they found a creepy doll. They ran their asses outta there.  

 “I feel like eating ice cream” said Kaminari, once they got near the beach, the colourful light of the Amusement Park shining in the distance. Sero was following some steps behind him, feeling the breeze against his skin and revolving his hair. He felt tempted to take his shoes off and submerge his feet on the sea, hearing the sound of the water splashing with every step he make.

 And then he looked up to find Denki doing exactly that. He was already calves in, his jeans rolled up so they didn’t get wet as he jumped around.

 “What are you waiting for?” He said and Sero shook his head to him, not even trying to hold back his smile. Because, of course, Denki had had the same impulse. Sero would never get tired of discovering the puzzle Kaminari Denki was.

 Leaving his converse next to Denki’s, Hanta ran to the sea, the cold water caressing his skin as he joined the blonde.

 *

Hours later, they were still on the beach, throwing rocks at the sea and competing to see who throw it the farthest. The conversation had died a while ago, both of them enjoying each other’s company under the starry sky.

Kaminari wasn’t paying much attention to the competition though, because right there, sitting that close to Sero on the sand, he could see every feature of his face, from the tip of his ear to the curve of his chin.

 Bakugou’s comment echoed inside his head. “Plain”.

 “Oh, shit our movie is starting in half an hour” Hanta said, when an alarm on his phone ran off. He didn’t rush Denki as he put his shoes on though, waiting patiently as the blonde shook the sand out of his jeans. “Do you think we have time to get some bubble tea on our way there?”

 Yeah, Denki still couldn’t see how an smile like that could have any of ordinary.

 “There’s always time for bubble tea.” He answered and the taller guy chuckled, holding his hand as he lead the way to the mall.

 *

Sero’s stupid jokes and Denki’s obnoxious laughs almost got them kicked out of the theater, almost an hour later. They didn’t care though, they were too busy eating the donuts they had hidden in their clothes, sugar powder falling falling on their jeans and covering their cheeks as if they were kids again. Indeed, a perfect date.

 *

Following the map on his phone, Sero took a moment to compare the address before entering into an small neighbourhood. White and beige houses were displayed in order with mailboxes with the family names written elegantly on them and Sero stopped in front of the only house that was breaking the silence, and that coincidentally matched the address that Mina had sent him.

 The sound of the drums was loud and probably the reason no one answered the doorbell, so Sero found himself following the tunes through the already open doors of the garage and hoping it didn't count as trespassing. And by the sight of the animal print backpack dropped in one of the wooden chairs of the garden, Sero knew he had found the right house.

 Mina had failed to mention that there would have been more people there too. (And it had been on purpose, Sero could tell, after spotting Denki in a corner of the garage, casually playing the guitar as he heard his friends yelling beside him.)

 “You gotta get the tempo right! Have in mind that they all will follow you, idiot.” screamed one of them, an ash blonde guy with a frightening scowl and angry red eyes.

 “I know!” The guy in the drums responded, a redhead with strong arms and a sprightly smile, that didn’t even flinched when the blonde slapped the back of his head, as if he was used to it.

 “Then why do you keep accelerating, you dumbass!” growling, the blonde turned to Denki, noticing Sero’s presence by the corner of his eye.

The sudden silence made the other two to look up to his direction, the spiky redhead barely raising an eyebrow as Denki’s eyes widen in stupefaction.

 “What are you doing here?” Denki asked when he approached him. He was smiling though, and Sero felt his body relax under his golden gaze.

 “Mina forgot his speaker and told me to get it for her since I was still at uni.” Sero hold the bright pink device up so Denki could see it. “What was all of that?”

 Denki smiled sheepishly, his gaze turning at his friends.

 “do you see the spiky redhead there? That’s Kirishima. He usually plays the bass but suddenly he decided he wanted to try the drums.” Hanta looked at the boys who were back at their bickering. “Bakugo’s been trying to teach him but he’s too impatient. Mina got tired of them so she went to the kitchen for snacks.” he explained. “Give me a second I will go for her”

 Sero felt the gazes turn at him once more after Denki disappeared behind a door. They didn’t say a thing though, they just stayed there evaluating him in terrifying silence while Hanta did his best in trying to ignore them. Denki used to look at him like, before they exchanged numbers and stories.Sometimes he still looked at him like that.

 “Sero!” exclaimed a feminine voice and Sero barely had time to blink before a body collided with his and hold him in a tight hug. Mina’s pink curls tickled his neck and Sero chuckled as she released him as fast as she had came. She had already taken the speaker out of his hands before he could say a word. (It wasn’t really a surprise to find out she was already friends with Denki. They both had the same chaotic energy, Sero was more surprised he didn’t take it for granted.)

 What happened after that was a blur in his memory. Sero had mentioned something about going back and suddenly Mina was shoving Denki by the wrist at him, saying something about their houses being in the same direction before pushing them both out of the garage and closing the door behind them with an slam.

 “Do you tend to do this a lot?” he asked, once he recovered. Denki’s guitar wouldn’t fit on his bicycle so Hanta was leading it as they walked, his eyes fixated on the pavement in front of his feet.

 “We are approaching finals so we wanted to release some stress making noise before starting again.”said the blonde “Sometimes when we are all free we give small concerts.”

 Hanta turned his head to him so fast he nearly strained his neck, his mouth falling open in shock. “You are kidding me”

 Denki tried to hold back his smile by biting his lower lip instead. He seemed kinda proud as he talked. “I’m seriously not. Kirishima’s uncle has an small bar and he lets us play there from time to time.” He turned in a corner and Hanta followed him. They had already passed the avenue that leaded to his own home but Hanta didn't care, he was enjoying the company. “We are trying to find someone that knows how to play the music keyboard so if you are interested, just tell me.” He winked, jokingly and Hanta seriously considered telling him that he actually knew the basics only to see his cheeks turning a cute shade of red.

 Denki stopped in front of an apartment building and suddenly the atmosphere was heavy again, crowded in unsaid questions.

 “We are here” the blonde said, and Hanta wanted to believe his hesitation was because he didn’t want to say goodbye either. Not yet. “is your house near?”

 “We may have passed it already.” Hanta confessed and since he was already doing that, he decided to risk it, trying to ignore his heart throbbing like crazy inside his chest. “I just wanted to expend some more time with you.”

 Denki gaped like a fish for a few seconds, his eyes not meeting his as he opened the door, the invitation clear in his tone as he said, “What about a movie then?” and before Sero could say something he was already inside, and the taller guy could swear he saw a hint of redness in his ears.

 The blonde’s apartment was on the second floor and it was bigger than Hanta expected, enough for two people to live there without feeling like trapped in a cage. It’s interior was red brick, with a white ceiling that matched the rug that covered the center of the wooden floor.

There were two beds, at the opposite wall of the entrance door, and two personal wardrobes next to each one. A white door was between them, probably the entrance of the bathroom, and windows in the sidewalls.

The small living room was formed by a green sofa, a beanbag and a desk in each sidewall, with two shelves above each of them.  

 The blonde had told him that he shared the place with Bakugou, so Hanta was expecting his side to be kinda rough, something that was a resemblance of his attitude.

Intead, Bakugo's side was impeccable, and it was Kaminari's side the one that looked chaotic, painting utensils, clothes, manga and papers were scattered everywhere, as if it was a tornado’s doing.

 But the most noticeable thing was the canvas that was displayed on the sofa, a painting of a woman with her eyes closed and flowers in her hair, her golden curls adorning a face covered in freckles.

 “She's my mom” Kaminari said and Hanta noticed that while he was there daydreaming, Denki had already picked everything up. “It is my best painting so far.”

 And he might not said it, but Hanta had the feeling that it was also the most important for him.

  “You look a lot like her.” Hanta said and Kaminari smiled, trying to ignore the ache he felt on his chest, a pain he felt every time he saw the painting.

It was a bittersweet feeling, of having someone you lost in front of you, so detailed and perfect and still, finding it lacking: no trace of the sound of her laugh, the shine of her eyes, the tinkle of her voice as she called him and his sister for dinner.

It was empty, and still, it managed to fool his eyes.

 “I get that a lot.” Denki responded. “It seems I took a lot after her and my sister after my dad. I don’t have the curls or freckles tho, as you can see.”

 In all honesty, Kaminari forgot the painting was there, he had gotten used to think it was inside his closet, hidden of the world and his own eyes. But his sister had com to visit the day before and he knew he couldn’t not tell her about it, between her visit, that lasted until midnight, and the early band practice from today, Denki had forgotten everything about the painting,that was there in the middle of his sofa for everyone to see.

 Sero hummed thoughtfully before asking,“And why the flowers?”

 The question shouldn’t have hurt so much.

 “They are lillies. She loved nature. Our whole house looked like a flower shop, we had so many plants there.” It still did. His father never stopped taking care of her plants, no matter how tired he was after a full day of work. His father, who had to raise two children alone and that drinked tea instead of coffee since she passed away. “She didn’t seem to have a favourite though, so I had to do my research on them to decide which one I should choose.”

 He didn’t dare to ask his father if she had a favourite plant. He was the man that lost his heart but kept living nevertheless.

The love story of their parents always amazed him. A college girl who met his future husband in a beach concert. A guy that played in a rock band  and that fell for the girl whose arms were covered in flower tattoos, petals and leaves decorating her skin.

 “Yellow lillies are beautiful and elegant.” explained Kaminari, brushing softly with his fingertips the painted  blossoms.“They also symbolize thankfulness and desire of enjoyment. There’s people who associates them with negative meanings, bad luck, falsity, as well as happiness or joy.” Kaminari wondered what kind of face he was making. Was it reflecting the homesickness he was feeling?  “I decided to stay with desire of enjoyment. Because my mom was like that, free and soft and extraordinary.”    

 Their mom told his sister that falling in love with their father was easy, that she felt so quickly that it was alarming. And that still, she felt no fear, because her love was bigger than it. A love like that. So big, so deep. So easy.

 It sounded like a fairy tale and still, he witnessed it, how they were around each other. As if they were about to burst into a musical at any moment,

 “Disgustingly in love”, would say his sister, always smiling.

 “She sounds like an amazing person.” Hanta said, and Denki blinked away the tears he didn’t know that were gathering in the corner of his eyes.

 “She was.” he agreed and then he added, “I still can’t decide which one of you makes a better coffee though.”

 *

 Sero looked at the calendar and counted again the days he had left until his deadline. Almost a month. Then he counted the days he would need to study for his other exams, the homework he still had to do and the courses that would probably leave him more. That leave him with two weeks more or less. Two weeks to finish the prototype of a videogame for the most important course of the semester.

 He should have started it already. Actually, he had but he didn't plan on using that first attempt as his final work. So he was behind the schedule, but it was alright, because he would rather sacrifice some nights of sleep now than later, he would the energy once exams arrive.

 It wasn’t a pleasant thought, tough.

 Maybe if he finished on time he could ask Denki out again, maybe this time to the zoo, or any of the other places they had agree to visit another time, in their latest date.

Sero knew it would be impossible. By the time he’d finish, exam's week would had already started, and Denki would be busy with his own exams as well. Hanta hoped he wasn't as stuck as he was with his project, because the blonde had been sending him his ideas for already three weeks and Sero thought that it would be a shame if he didn’t see the end of that story.

What was the advice he had told to Denki, around two months ago, about being a creator?

 “Have confidence and determination and then the talent would bloom” Hanta whispered to his ceiling. Or something amongst those lines.

Where did that come from? Definitely a moment of inspiration, Sero couldn’t imagine himself saying something like that again, not even in his best pep-talk.

 But he did, once, and Denki had believed him and the prove of it wa sthe pictures he had now of his phone, sketches and messy notes that created new worlds by themselves.

 Finish on time. Do it right.

He didn’t need to choose between them if he made other decision instead.

 Sighing, Hanta picked up and dialed the numbers of the Coffee Whim.

*

“It is finals week in our uni” Shouji said when Kaminari had asked him about Sero's absence. “He has taken the last two weeks off, though I wouldn't be surprised if he didnt come some days after. You know how tiring it can be”.

 Kaminari had nodded and thanked for the coffee before going back to his place on the sofa.

 He hasn't seeing Sero since that movie night, almost three weeks ago. They hadn’t text much either, between his classes and homeworks, the blonde’s energy focused on study to pass his exams, that were just about to start that week. And now, knowing that Sero was the busy one made it impossible.

 So the week passed, with the café empty and no sign of Sero, Kaminari coming everyday once the afternoon started and his exams were over, looking at the register and sitting on the table beside the window, drawing and writing, his story taking form in front of his eyes as the ink filled the white pages of the notebook. An story about a ordinary character, that by being surrounded by the unconvencional, was unique.

 *

 A knock on the door brought Sero back to the reality.

The door opened swiftly to show his mother, holding a tray with sandwiches and a big milkshake and the boy’s stomach growled loudly with hunger. “I brought some snacks.” she said and just then Sero realised he had been working non stop for seven hours. His fingers felt cramped and his back and neck felt as tense as a violin cord. The incomplete software was shining in his laptop screen, reminding him the time left he had to finish it and some parts of the story he still had to add. But those sandwiches looked good and so did the milkshake, and his mother had made them for him after arriving home after work so Sero decided to stop for a minute. He needed a break.

 His mom stayed in the room, sitting besides him in the bed as she watched him eat, her black eyes shining in relief and the slight hint of an smile in the curve of her lips. She was still wearing her work attire, a long tube skirt with a white blouse and a red handkerchief around her neck. She hadn’t even took his make up off and Sero felt a wave of love filling his chest despite the numb state his brain was at the moment. His mom sure was the best.

 “How was work?” he asked, once his stomach calmed enough to let his brain formulate words. There was only one sandwich left but Sero concentrated on the milkshake, enjoying the sweet flavour against his tongue.

 His mom shrugged. “Kinda boring.”

 “No interesting stories then?”

 “Oh no, there's always drama in the airport. Nothing really remarkable this time tho.” her long red nails brushed his hair from the front to the back, as she did when he was a kid. He must really look horrible if she was doing that. “What about you? Are you close to finish it?”

 Hanta didn’t look at her eyes.“Something like that.”

 “One of those days, uh” Sometimes she could read him too easily.

 Sero fidgeted in his chair, suddenly interested in the shelf in front of his bed, his figures way more interesting than his mother evaluating gaze.

 “Remember when your brother taught you how to ride a bike?” she said after a moment and Sero couldn’t help but raise a brow..

Teach was an overstatement.

“You mean when he just left me in the top of an slope and waited for me to do it by myself.”

 “Yes, I taught him that way too”

 Sero hold back a laugh. So that's why his brother never got grounded.

 “Also he told me you already knew the basics, it was time for him to let you go.”

 “Debatable.”

 She ignored him.

 “I've seen many parents helping their kids when they learn. And I did that too, at the beginning.”

 “Marco only did it like four or five times” Sero replied.

 “More than enough. I only did it tree times for him.”

 “Jesus, mom.”

 “Don’t be like that, it was a very small slope.” She said  “what i mean is that sometimes kids just need to prove the hardest thing, just to acquire something more important that succeed: experience. Oh, don't look at me like that, niño. Or are you gonna tell me that you didn’t enjoy the rush of adrenaline once your brain assimilated the fear and proceed to act? Overcoming it and try to do something. Anything! Because If you were going to fall, you would fall by your own terms.” Her soft hand cupped his cheek and Sero reclined in it.

 “Sometimes i feel like you have changed a little with your experiences, but that’s okay, because you are still turning out and you learn from your mistakes. Just remember that I will always be here to remind you that sometimes it is better to take a risk. In everything.”

 She kissed his forehead and Sero sighed, inevitably.

 “Don’t doubt and don’t be scared, because when you are already falling you have nothing to lose. And knee scraps almost never leave scars.”

 *

 He was late.

The teacher had had a problem with her car and the class representative had told them to wait for another hour until she arrived. They just couldn't leave their notebooks, she wanted to ask them about them, confirm that they were the right authors and to exploit every piece of information they had not noted.

So they needed to wait.

The hours seem to last eternities and Kaminari had never hated that his last name was one of the lasts in the list.

The traffic was a disaster too. Winter had came and with it the snow and half of the buses in the city were stuck in the traffic. More time passed as he waited for a bus that never seemed to came and Kaminari was late, so he decided to ran.

He ran through the cold streets, his breath creating puffs in the cold air as he ran all the way to the café.

He wished it didn’t close, that maybe Sero was still there, delaying it because someone told him that Denki had gone there everyday and that he planned to do the same that day too.

And Kaminari ran. And he wished.

 *

 Sero had closed the cafe late that day.

It had been a busy day. It was the last day of finals and the eve of a long vacation term and the college students felt like treating themselves with caffeine and sugar after having survived hell.

 Mineta was still mia (he would call him later, the dude always overdone it for finals) and Shouji had left early so he could go out with his (boy)friend. (Sero had to insist. He had been the only one working while the rest of them studied. He deserved the break.) He himself had finished his exams the day before, and he had never felt prouder of presenting a work on time. (He slept for fifteen hours after that, practically fainting on top of his bed with a victory smile.)

 Right then though, he took orders, prepared, served and even greeted some friends and familiar faces, compensating for the days of absence with even more energy while doing his tasks.

 “A vanilla cappuccino and a macchiato” a voice said and Sero looked up from the register to found himself in front of Denki’s roommate and friend, Bakugou, who was looking as exhausted and dead inside as everyone else.

 Hanta wondered if he should greet him or try to make an small conversation, after all he had been in the guy’s house, but Bakugou didn’t make any sign of recognising him. Instead, the blonde looked silently at the small box next to the register before picking up one of the chocolate chips cookies bags displayed in it, not willing to look at Sero at the eyes as he asked for the price.

 “I thought Denki would have been here” Bakugou said, while receiving his change. Hanta frowned in confusion.

 “I hadn’t seen him in weeks”

 “You must be blind then because he had come everyday in the last week”. Sero’s eyes widened in surprise and the blonde looked at him with curiosity before going back to his table, handling the cookie bag to the freckled guy that was waiting him there.

 Hanta repeated that part of the conversation in his head for the rest of the night, unaware of the passing of the time as he swept the floor and cleaned the tables.

 He didn’t notice the clock marking that it was already half an hour after closing time, or the clumsiness of his movements as tiredness started to affect him.

 And once he heard the footsteps and the doorbell as the doors opened, every sign of exhaustion vanished from his body, his heart stopping for a second at the sight of a messy blond, with his cheeks and hands pinks for the cold and his breath uneven as he gasped, “A coffee, please”

 Compared to outside, the Coffee Whim was cozy and warm and Kaminari’s muscles relaxed at the change of temperature.

Hanta had gone behind the counter, opening and closing cupboards before pouring the ingredients in the machine with ease.

Denki just observed, taking every detail of him in, trying to find small changes compared to the last time they had met. But aside from the bags under his eyes, practically hidden behind the frame of his glasses, he found none and he found it more comforting than he thought.

 An small cup was slid softly to his direction and Kaminari looked down to the smiley face Sero had draw on the foam, the sweet smell of the coffee filling his nostrils before taking it to his lips.  

 “This…” he whispered, after a long sip and Hanta’s smile made Kaminari’s heart made a somersault in his chest.

 “This time it is not a Nevado, it is too cold for that.” Sero explained, “ But I thought you might needed something sweet. This is the warm and original version: An Arequipe Latte.”

 Kaminari sighed happily, his body welcoming the hot drink as his tongue drowned in its sweet taste. A cozy feeling filling him from head to toes the more he drank it.“I'm gonna marry you one of these days.” he said and Sero huffed at his dramatism.

 Once he had finished it all, the blonde asked, “I see your finals are over. How did it go?”

 Hanta shrugged. “It was rough, not gonna lie, but it turned out fine at the end. Very good actually, I’m satisfied with the results.” He poked kindly Denki’s hand, positioned on top of the wooden table. “And yours?”

 “I won't know the results till monday but I'm positive.” Denki thought of his project, his explanation of it and the teacher's face as she checked the notebook. He closed his eyes at the memory of her asking him if she could keep it for a few days and the encouraging smile she gave to him before closing the door behind him. “I really want to nail this.”

 “I’m glad to hear that. I’m sure you are gonna kick some asses there.”

 Denki mirrored his smile and then there was silence between them again, a comfortable one, as they both lost in the comfort that being with each other was.

 At least until Kaminari’s phone rang, the pop song cutting the atmosphere like a knife.

 It wasn’t nothing important, only an old alarm he had forgotten to deactivate, but it reminded Denki how late it was, his muscles suddenly aching with the realization.

 “I think it is time to go home” he said, rather hesitantly, as he got up of the chair. He didn’t make any more move though, watching Hanta as he put his coat on and turning the last lights off before getting next to him to walk to the bus stop together.

 The snow had already started to accumulate in the streets by the time they spotted the bus stop from afar, and despite being a cold night, Kaminari found himself extending his arm to catch the snowflakes, even if they gave him goosebumps when they made contact with his skin. Carefully, Hanta took his hand on his own to put them both in his coat’s pocket, protecting them of the cold temperature, the warm of his palm transfering to his own.

 “You know, I tend to do stupid things when I’m tired.” said Sero, as they approached more and more their destination. Their steps had turned slower though, prolonging their time together as long as possible neither of them wanting to say goodbye.

 Hanta hadn’t let go his hand yet, and Denki felt his hand squeeze his as Sero turned his body to face him, so close, he could see through his glasses clearly.

 “Really? I do them all the time” said Kaminari, suddenly out of breath and his eyes roamed over Hanta’s features, searching for any sign that revealed a doubt, a rejection. There was none. Quite the contrary even, as Denki watched his lips quirk in a shy smile, the blush extending to his ears as Hanta looked back at him, at his lips. “It must be really annoying.”

 “It is,” Hanta said and then there was a hand caressing softly Denki’s cheek, raising his chin with cold fingers and touching lovingly the corner of his mouth, and the blonde felt a dejavu as he felt his breath against his skin, his heart stopping as Hanta whispered, “but I think I won’t call it a mistake this time.”

 The long awaited kiss was soft and tender, almost shy, and both guys closed his eyes as they hugged each other closer, their lips parting almost immediately with craving. It tasted sweet and slightly bitter and Denki stood on his tiptoes to get to taste more of it.

 Hanta and coffee, coffee and Hanta.

 He almost whined when they had to separate to breath, joining their foreheads together as Hanta chuckled against his mouth.

 “Suddenly I feel like drinking coffee again.” He said and Denki pulled him down by the collar of his coat because for the first time on his life, he did not. He found that he liked Hanta’s lips even more.

[chasholidays]

hi, a bellarke timestamp for the butt crazy in love verse would be awesome!

Series here!

Not to be that guy, but Bellamy doesn’t really get marriage proposals.

On a practical level, obviously, they make sense. Marriage is a mixed institution, overall, but he understands why people want to get married and that they need to ask their significant others if they feel the same. But proposals as this big, romantic surprise don’t make a lot of sense to him. It’s not as if he should unilaterally be deciding that he and Clarke should get married.

Not that he’s ever thought he and Clarke wouldn’t get married; she started making references to it pretty early, almost as soon as they were dating, and it always felt inevitable to him too, in the best way. That’s how it’s always been with Clarke: by the time they got together, he hadn’t had any doubt that she was it for him. It’s nice, obviously, wonderful, but that makes it awkward too.

The early steps of their relationship were easy, uncomplicated, thoughtless. The first couple years they were dating, Clarke was still in college and he was still in law school, and once they were done, they moved in together. Clarke started working at the MFA and he got a job with the law firm where he’d interned, where they liked him a lot more than he liked them. The hours were too long and the jobs are shitty, but after two years, he’d made enough to clear up most of his debt, and by four, he was getting savings, like a real adult.

Clarke was the one who told him to quit, but not in the way it happens on TV, when there’s some shitty ultimatum about how he loved his job more than he loved her, which he obviously never did. It was Christmas and he got a call from his boss that he had to take, which turned out to just be forwarding a client who wanted to spend an hour yelling at him. Once he was done, he went back to the living room, and Clarke leaned into his side.

“I love you,” she said, “and you can do whatever you want. But if I were you, I’d be thinking about whether or not what I wanted was another job. You could find something that pays you more than enough and doesn’t make you miserable.”

“I’m not miserable,” he said, which wasn’t really the point.

Clarke didn’t miss a beat. “You could find something that contributes to not being miserable. Something that improves your life instead of making it worse.”

“What a concept.”

Her lips pressed against his shoulder. “It’s your decision, I’m not going to tell you what to do. But–at some point, you have enough money to realize that it isn’t worth it to do whatever you can to get more money. I hope you get there soon.”

Jobs like this one had been why he went into pre-law, why he went to law school. He saw Jake Griffin with his big house and his perfect family, and it made so much sense. Lawyers are rich; if he was a lawyer, and he’d have a good life too.

And he did have it, of course. He was dating Jake’s perfect daughter, and they didn’t have a house of their own yet, but they did own their condo. They had a mortgage. This was what success looked like.

But it wasn’t what he wanted.

Two months from the next Christmas, and Bellamy’s got a new job, a worse one, by most objective standards. He makes less money and has less prestige, but he’s not expected to work every hour of the day and he’s no longer worrying that he’s actually making the world a worse place. He has more time to spend with his girlfriend and his friends, to feel like a person.

He has a good life, and it feels like the next step is marriage, but for some reason, it’s tripping him up.

“How did you decide to propose to Monty?” he asks Miller. The two of them have been married for two years now, and Bellamy remembers having the conversation again with Clarke at their wedding: this will be us someday. It hadn’t seemed pressing, particularly.

“I wanted to,” Miller says, with a shrug. “And I got a good idea for it.”

Bellamy has to smile. Miller had gone into Monty’s Stardew Valley game in the middle of the night and changed the names of all his livestock to Monty will you marry me? I hope you’re seeing these in order, which of course he hadn’t. He’d spent ten minutes writing down all the words until he got to marry, at which point he’d figured it out and said yes.

“Don’t tell me you’re worried about proposing to Clarke,” Miller adds, giving Bellamy a look. “You guys have been married since before you started dating.”

“I think that’s my problem,” he admits, with a sigh. “I don’t know how to–it’s a big deal, but not a big deal, you know? It feels like what I should be doing, but why do it now? Why not last month or next year?”

“Why not next year?” Miller asks, as placid as ever. “Why are you thinking about it now?”

“I think it feels like the next step. Like–everything else is set, time to get married. But that’s–shitty.”

“You know she wants to marry you. You know she’s going to. It doesn’t matter when you ask. If you want to marry her, you should marry her. If you’re thinking about asking, maybe it means you’re ready. But I think you’re going to know when it’s right. You’ll think about doing it, and it’ll just click. Everything will come together.”

“You’re so wise,” he teases.

“You asked me for advice, you don’t get to make fun of me for giving it to you. Look, you’re in great shape, okay? You found the woman you’re going to marry, all you have to do is figure out when you’re going to marry her. If you don’t do it soon enough for her, she’ll ask you. I’m not saying it’s impossible for you to fuck this up, but you’d probably actually have to be trying. You know how to make Clarke happy.”

“Yeah, I know.” He gives Miller half a smile. “And I know this isn’t a real problem.”

He shrugs. “It’s an opportunity. You’re get to do something romantic for your girlfriend, and there’s no rush. Come up with something good and figure out how to do it. You’ll know it when you know it.”

“That’s true.” He smiles. “Thanks for the advice. I knew I could count on you.”

“I’ve been waiting to be your best man for like ten years,” he says, with a shrug. “Just say the word.”

“Yeah,” says Bellamy. “You’ll be the second to know.”

*

With most problems in his life, Clarke is the first person he talks to. Sometimes, like with his old job, she talks to him about his problems before he’s even aware of them, before he’s willing to admit they are problems. It’s one of the amazing things about having someone like Clarke, someone who knows him as well as he knows himself, and part of him expects her to figure out the engagement thing, to have realized he’s worrying about it.

But the thing about proposing to her is that it’s not really bad worrying. It isn’t grinding him into slow misery like his job was, isn’t a problem for her to help fix. It reminds him of nothing so much as those months between the Halloween party when he realized he was almost ready to tell her how he felt and her parents’ party where he actually did, a strange, pending state between relationship upgrades. There’s the same anxiety, the same persistent doubt that something will go wrong, despite every rational part of his brain telling him that it won’t.

So it’s mostly a nice kind of worry, nothing Clarke would notice, nothing she has to fret over.

Which actually complicates things a little.

“Is that a new ring?” he asks, tapping the band on her right hand. It’s not, and he knows it, but she doesn’t wear it that often, and for whatever reason, society has decided that people don’t just say I’m thinking of proposing and I want to get you a ring. It’s a surprise. And he needs information.

Clarke blinks, frowns. “No, my mom got it for me last Christmas, remember?”

“Oh, yeah. You don’t wear it that much, I forgot what it looked like.”

She shrugs. “It’s not really me, I guess. Not my style.”

If she’s deliberately giving him clues, there’s no indication of it. She’s so casual. “Yeah, you’re not much of a jewelry person.”

“I don’t dislike jewelry,” she protests. “But my mom thinks giving cash is tacky, so she gives me jewelry, and she doesn’t know what I like.”

“Your mom doesn’t know what to get you for holidays? Wow, I can’t relate at all.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she says, laughing. “I know. She’s doing her best. And it’s a really nice ring! Plenty of people would love to get it. And maybe I could get comfortable with it. Besides, if I’m not wearing it at Thanksgiving, Mom will think I didn’t like it–”

“Which you don’t,” he teases, and she elbows him, grinning.

“It was a nice gesture. I can be nice back.”

His fingers trace the band. It’s gold, which he knows isn’t her favorite, with small, bright red gemstones, probably rubies. It’s a pretty piece, and he understands what she means. It would suit another person; it would suit Abby. But Clarke isn’t her mother.

“Could you try to drop some hints about what you actually like? Do you want me to help? If she’s going to buy you this stuff, we might as well try to make her get you something you like.”

“Maybe I’ll add some jewelry to my wish list. She’d never buy it for me, but maybe she’d get the general idea.”

“Can’t hurt.”

She snuggles closer. “Is it bad that I already can’t wait for the holidays to be over? We’re still a few weeks away from Thanksgiving and I just want it to be, like, Martin Luther King Day. I get the day off work and I’m not expected to do anything.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s why people have kids, so they’ll get excited about holidays again.”

She groans. “God, don’t remind me. You know we’re going to get a ton of questions about when we’re getting married and reproducing.”

His breath catches, but she doesn’t seem to notice. “Yeah, that’s how it usually goes.” Once his heart rate is under control, he kisses her hair. “Seriously, we’ve still got a few more weeks to Thanksgiving, why are you already worrying about it?”

“Not to be an asshole, but because your sister got married.”

He has to laugh. “Okay, yeah. That makes total sense. I’m happy for her, but there’s definitely going to be more pressure on us.”

“You’ve been dating for so much longer than Octavia and Lincoln, I don’t see what you’re waiting for.”

“So you’re going to wear the ring your mom gave you and hope she doesn’t notice you don’t have one from me?” It feels a little risky, bringing it up so directly, but apparently he’s hitting a deep vein of stress he hadn’t picked up on. It’s so much more important to check in with Clarke and make sure she’s feeling okay than it is to keep his proposal plans secret. If he needs to offer now to reduce the amount of stress in her life, he can do that.

“The perfect crime.”

“Do you want to be engaged?” he asks, gentle.

She twists around to kiss him, firm. “I’m not fishing for anything. I don’t really care, I guess? Obviously I’m going to marry you, we all know that, but I don’t really need to marry you, you know? I don’t get why everyone acts like it’s such a huge deal. We’re going to do it, and it’ll be good when we do. But for all I know we’re already common-law married.”

“There’s no common law marriage in Massachusetts,” he says, absent. “But yeah, I get what you mean. I still want to marry you, obviously. But I get tired of people thinking it’s a red flag that it hasn’t happened yet.”

“Thanksgiving won’t be so bad. A few passive aggressive comments from my mom about how much she loved Octavia and Lincoln’s wedding, probably a lot of questions for them about when kids are coming, but mostly fine. It’s just one day.”

Thanksgiving generally is the better of their holidays; he and Clarke and Octavia all go over to the Griffins’s along with any of Abby’s residents who aren’t going home, and it’s always pretty small and lowkey. Plus, they’re still in Boston, so they don’t have to travel anywhere or be away from home. It’s basically an intense family dinner, a prelude to going to Virginia to spend Christmas and New Year’s with Clarke’s extended family.

The first time Bellamy went, he was convinced they’d hate him, and he remembers clearly telling Clarke how surprised he was that Christmas Eve wasn’t a disaster. She’d given him a look full of fond exasperation and reminded him that what they were seeing wasn’t a poor boy on a scholarship, but a smart, handsome young man studying law at Harvard. He’s still getting used to the idea that he’s seen as a good match for Clarke, someone who deserves her.

They’re not upset that he’s marrying her, just that he hasn’t done it yet. It’s a staggering thought. The Christmas visits are always intense, but it’s love that’s smothering them. That helps.

“We could do something else for Christmas this year. I could say I have to work.”

“I like seeing most of them. It’s not–” She huffs. “I’m just tired of having an awesome life and hearing how it’s not good enough because I don’t have–” She smiles at her hand. “A ring.”

“I’m going to get you one,” he says. It feels safe enough. “Someday. If you want one sooner–”

She kisses him again. “Whenever you’re ready,” she says. “I’m not in a rush.”

*

“I want to propose before Thanksgiving,” Bellamy explains to the cheerful woman at the ring showroom. He set up an appointment during his lunch break, let Charles know where he’d be and why he might be late coming back. His boss had been thrilled, of course, almost comically supportive, and he thinks everyone else will feel the same. This is going to be good news. “But I’m not sure–” He huffs. “I feel weird picking out a ring.”

“Well, that’s why you come here,” she says, smiling. “We help you figure out what you’d like.”

“It’s not what I’d like, it’s what she would want. She’s not big on jewelry, and she’s the one who’s going to have to wear it.”

“Okay, well, we can work with that.”

He cocks his head. “Really?”

“You’re not the only person to have this problem. You’ve got two options.”

“Only two?”

“Two general options,” she says, with a wave of her hand. “We’ll start with the first and if it doesn’t work go to the second.”

“Which is?”

“First, we’ll talk about what you know about what your girlfriend likes and what might be a good fit for her. If you come up with a design you like, we can go with it. If you don’t, we have placeholder rings you can use for the proposal, and then you can come back with her to have her pick.”

“I’m pretty sure I’m going to do that.”

“Still, you can look,” the girl says, with a grin. “You can always show her what you came up with, even if you don’t go with it.”

Once she’s made that suggestion, there’s no way Bellamy’s going with anything else. But the woman is good at her job, and she draws out answers he didn’t even know he had in him. No, Clarke doesn’t like yellow gold, she prefers silver or platinum. Diamonds are fine, but she doesn’t get the big deal about them. Her favorite color is blue, and she’s said she likes blue and silver. Harper shows him some of the sapphires they have in stock, some settings it could go in, and he ends up getting talked into putting a 30-day hold on his favorite gem. She prints off a picture of the ring he designed, a preview image from the website, and sends him home with a placeholder ring on deposit.

The whole thing doesn’t even take an hour, and it leaves him dizzy and a little confused, reeling that there is an actual ring in his actual pocket, and he has a deadline for when he needs to tell Clarke about it if he doesn’t want to lose the gemstone he reserved.

He’s proposing to her, in the next few days, ideally. So they’ll have time to get all their ducks in a row for Thanksgiving. He just has to figure out what to say.

Charles gives him a big grin when he gets back to the office. “How did it go? You find one?”

“Yeah,” he says, hoping his smile isn’t too dazed. “I’m all set.”

*

He spends the rest of the afternoon failing to work and googling romantic proposal ideas, getting increasingly fed up with them. It’s not that any of them are bad, but he liked what Miller said about proposing. He has an opportunity here to do something nice for his favorite person in the world, and while he never needs an excuse for that, he wants this to be special, a good memory that will stay with her. He wants to look back at this and think he did it right.

But a lot of the romantic things he finds don’t really feel like they’d be the right gesture for Clarke. He doesn’t want to take her out to a fancy dinner and put the ring in a flute of champagne or get down on one knee in the park. He sinks another full day on How They Asked, and while the stories are all great, they just reinforce that none of those work for him and Clarke.

He tries to think of good memories he could use as inspiration, but so much of their early courtship wasn’t, and it’s not like he wants to recreate the time that asshole tried to grope her in his car or the time he took her to the ER and his then-girlfriend dumped him as romantic proposal memories.

But then Clarke comes back from work on Friday a week before Thanksgiving in utter exhaustion and says, “I don’t want to do a single thing this weekend.”

“Not even one?”

“As little as possible.”

“Bad week?”

“So much to do before Thanksgiving. I’m probably doing overtime next week, so I just want to have a good time this weekend.”

The thing Bellamy has learned about romance is that it’s relative. He couldn’t propose to Clarke like Miller did to Monty and have it mean as much. He buys Clarke a day planner every year for Christmas because she likes having a physical one in addition to her phone and her iPad, and she loves the gift, but plenty of other people wouldn’t. And there are also people who would want a big, bombastic proposal, but he doesn’t think that’s Clarke.

Clarke is tired and wants a relaxing weekend, and he can give her that.

He goes shopping by himself on Saturday morning, assuring her he doesn’t mind and she can sleep in. She’s awake and on the couch in pajamas by the time he gets home, so she helps him put everything away, smiles as she sees all the special things he bought.

“Wow, you’re going to spoil me, huh?”

“It sounds like you need it.”

She leans up and kisses him. “You’re the best, thank you.”

“If you could cook, you’d do the same for me.”

“I’d pay for your takeout.”

“I know you would. But you’re the one who needs a break this weekend, so sit down while I make you pancakes.”

It’s not an answer all by itself, not a sufficient plan for proposing. But he can spend the weekend pampering her and wait for the right moment. He has the ring box in his bag, almost always close enough if the urge to propose strikes with no risk of her finding it. He can have it on very short notice.

They watch Netflix for most of Saturday, and on Sunday, she decides she wants to get a pet.

“A pet?” he asks, surprised. “You want a pet?”

“Yeah. I’ve been thinking about it for a while. I was going to do it as a Christmas present, but that seemed shitty. Pets shouldn’t be a surprise.”

“No, probably not. Is this really the best time?”

“You’re off after Tuesday, right?”

“Yeah.”

“And then I have something nice to come back to. Other than you,” she adds quickly, and he laughs.

“Yeah, you’re used to me. Have you already researched shelters? Where are we going? What kind of pet do we want?”

“I might have some ideas.”

By “ideas,” she of course means spreadsheets, because that’s how Clarke is, and he adores her beyond all reason. She checked yesterday while they were watching TV, came up with a list of options. She wants either one large-ish dog or two cats, and when Bellamy votes for the cats so they’ll each have one and don’t have to take them on walks, Clarke pulls up a few options.

“I think my first choice is these two, they’re siblings. But that’s if they like us, and if they’re still available when we get there, so they’ll probably be pretty in demand, so–”

He grins. “So we should go as soon as possible, right?”

“This doesn’t derail your weekend plans, does it?” she asks, sounding sheepish. “You still haven’t cooked all your fancy groceries.”

“They’ll keep. The weekend plan is to make you happy, so if cats will do that–”

“You want them, right? We aren’t going to adopt two cats just because I had a bad week. But I thought you liked pets.”

“I do like pets. And now if anyone asks us when we’re having kids at Christmas, we can just say we’re busy with our new cats.”

“As a bonus.”

It’s not too far to the shelter Clarke found, and there’s little enough traffic that it’s not quite open when they get there. There’s a Starbucks near by and they pick up drinks and split a slice of coffee cake, eat it quickly enough they’re still the first people to be looking at pets. The two cats Clarke selected are a boy and a girl, siblings, one gray and the other white, just under a year old. They’re bright and eager for attention, and when Bellamy picks up the girl for the first time, he knows there’s no way they’re going home without these cats.

It doesn’t take any longer than the ring appointment did, all these things that feel like they should be huge, monumental things, and instead it’s done in a matter of minutes. Just like that, he and Clarke are cat owners, and she keeps the two of them in her lap as they drive first to the pet store for supplies and then back home. The ring is in his pocket now, the weight pressing against his leg.

It’s going to be so soon.

They set up food and litter boxes and toys, let the cats start to explore. Their names, at least at the shelter, were Shadow and Milkie, but they were abandoned, and don’t seem to have any attachments to the names. Clarke let Bellamy name them, and he goes with Artemis and Apollo, obvious, maybe, but on-brand for him.

“Sorry I couldn’t wait for Christmas,” says Clarke, as they watch Apollo pounce on a catnip mouse. “But I kind of–I thought about it as a Christmas present, but it didn’t feel like that, I guess. It felt like just something we should do.”

“I know exactly what you mean. I’ve actually got a present like that for you.”

She looks up at him, surprised. “Yeah?”

It’s so much easier than he was expecting, one fluid motion of kneeling down and pulling the box out of his pocket, opening it up for her.

There will be more to talk about after this moment, the picture of the ring he designed (which she’ll love), discussion of when to tell people (after Thanksgiving, at Clarke’s request) and what they want the wedding to be like (small and lowkey), but those things will come later.

What he wanted to give her most was this single, shining moment, the happy surprise that engagement is supposed to be. And as the joy spreads over her face, the laugh bubbles out of her throat, the tear springs into her eye, he finally gets it. This is how it’s supposed to be. This is what people want to achieve with all their complicated surprises.

And he’s pretty sure he nailed it.

[allivegottodoislove]

A Lad Insane

i know i promised this to you guys on friday but my life got hella busy & im so sorry about not posting it earlier! but i figured better late than never! here it is, chapter four of a lad insane

     This was far from a normal night for David. A simple night like this hadn't existed since he had been with his mother, though there had never been a nude woman then. It put him in a weird place. A normal night wouldn't have ended this early. It was why he had to wait for Angie. Usually, he assumed, she would be standing by waiting for him. The crew likely didn't take that long to dispose of the girls given to them. Though, he was sure someone was disappointed that they didn't get to drain Adeline.

     How they had never gotten caught still amazed him. There had to be a mass of bodies every night. There was no way that Angie would let any of them live. That was evident from his interactions with Angie some hours prior now. It didn't surprise him. He just didn't understand it. How did no one notice the masses of missing girls, there had to be at least ten to fifteen a night, if not more. How were their bodies not found? No one would put it together, at first. That's how he thought about it at first. They went from city to city. But, surely, the police could never be that dumb. Tonight was truly the first night David thought about it. Perhaps because it was the first night he was not contributing to the missing.

     The night was different, and in a way David was grateful for that. Typically, he would pass at out the end of the night. It would be a complete fuck fest. David wouldn't stop until he had his share, or the girl herself seemed unable to take anymore. Then he would feed, once they were tired and unaware. He never wanted to make a big show of it. At least, he would try to, sometimes it wouldn't be an option. The drugs would overpower his ability to hold back his urges.

     Looking over Adeline, David was grateful for the change of pace. As she slept, he only became more grateful for that. She was a change of pace. If he could convince her, David would be happy to keep her for the week. Perhaps longer, but only if she agreed. Something told him that she wasn't one took help easily.

     As he watched her sleep, he realized how beautiful she was. Not that she wasn't beautiful before, but there had been so much anxiety on her face. She clearly had a lot on her plate. Her work uniform said it all. She hadn't been at the concert; David knew that much. While he likely would never be able to get a straight answer out of her, he assumed she came straight from work, just to try and get a glimpse. Her friends would never believe this story. It was one that no other girl got to live to say, after all.

     The night passed quickly. David would switch between his own thoughts, and paying attention to her. The hours, he thought, were creeping by slowly. But, as he turned his attention to the windows and their partially opened shades, he realized that wasn't true. The night had passed in the blink of an eye. It amazed him that time could pass that quickly without any sort of drug. Perhaps Adeline had been the drug he had been looking for. No, no, he mustn't think like that.

     As the light continued to creep into the room, David fell a bit back into the bed. Any minute now, Adeline could wake up. The last thing he wanted was for her to wake up staring at her. It might just scare her away, and that's not what he wanted to do. She felt good to be around, and something about her pissed Angie off. It was a win-win situation for him, really.

     The light eventually reached Adeline's eyes. David closed his own, knowing that soon hers would be open. He was the rock star in this whole equation, he would be able to sleep through the whole night. He didn't need to give up the game at the very last second.

     Her wake-up was smooth and easy. Adeline's eyes just fluttered open. It had been so long that she had such a simple wake up. At first, she thought nothing of it. Her brain just said that she had a day off work. But, it didn’t take long for the alarms going off in her head. Firstly, because she never had a day off work. As her eyes adjusted to the light, her brain began to whirl. Even if she did, she still would have set her alarm. It was second nature at this point. Where was her alarm?

     The panic was starting to set into her. Her eyes flung open and she sat straight up. This wasn't her room. This wasn't her bed. And she certainly never went to bed naked. Despite how hot it could get in her apartment, she didn't trust her neighborhood enough to do that. Too many people had break-ins around her. This, though, was too nice to be her apartment.

     As she felt the panic rising in her, she wiped the last bit of sleep from her eyes. Where was she? As she looked next to her, she noticed the bright orange head of hair. The night began to come back to her. She, of course, remembered going to look for David, and then meeting him, and then the rest of it… It had been a weirdly perfect night after a bad day at work.

     The panic had settled for a moment as she remembered the events of the night before. It returned in full forced when she remembered work. The panic and fear rose in her. It threatened to leave as either her screaming or vomiting, or perhaps both. Right now, Adeline wasn't sure which was more likely. But perhaps, just perhaps, she would get lucky.

     That was the only thing keeping her from ripping out her own hair. Her life hadn't always been the most luck filled, but she got where she needed to. Adeline, though, could feel her heart racing. As much as she wanted to believe she would get lucky, and only have to pay for a cab she could barely afford, something told her all her luck had been used up before this.

     David was more than aware of what's going on. Well, not why it was happening. Was she experiencing regret? David didn't think so. It wasn't like he had much experience with the morning side of this whole thing. But, she didn't seem to be angry with him. He imagined that there would be more screaming, more yelling. She just seemed anxious. For now, he opted to continue to pretend to sleep. It seemed the safer option.

     Any involvement on his end he wanted to wait for. Humans could sometimes be more dangerous than his own kind. If he interrupted something… No, he could afford to wait. She didn't seem to be angry, but one wrong move could set her there. Humans could be more dangerous than his life, and he didn't want to cross that.

     As David sat in his thoughts on what to do, Adeline had enough of thinking. She knew she had to find out the right answer. The only clock, unfortunately, was not right next to the bed. Whoever designed this hotel room was a fool. Who didn't put the clock right next to the bed? With shaky legs, she stood up. It hit her all at once that she had lost her virginity less than twelve hours ago. Her body was sore, and ached.

     For a moment, she was afraid her legs might give out under her. David worried as well, one eye open to watch her. With her back to him, he could afford to spy on her just a touch. Thankfully, she managed to stay upright on her own, and David didn't need to give herself away.

     As she walked to the little corner with the small radio alarm, she said the same prayer over and over again. It had never failed her in the past. It wouldn't fail her now. It couldn't. It was the prayer she used to get the job. Surely, it would fail her now, when she needed it most. Losing this job… No, she couldn't think of that yet. It was still early, it had to still be early. The universe wouldn't be that cruel to her. It wouldn't ruin her life because she had given into her biggest temptation.

     Somewhere in her heart, Adeline had come to terms with the truth. Her brain wouldn't accept the idea of it. For now, she couldn't afford to. She would break down before she even made it to the clock. But her heart knew, knew that she was already screwed.

     Once she turned the corner, her walk slow and clearly of someone in fear, she saw the clock. The little white letters had never seemed so angry before. It felt like someone stabbed her in the gut. There was no way, it couldn't be right. She rubbed her eyes, trying to will herself back in time. No such luck, as the clock changed from 10:39 to 10:40, she knew it was real.

     Her shift had started some two hours before. That wasn't even considering the unpaid time she was supposed to show up earlier. If she thought she could scream, she would. But right now, no sounds would come out. Perhaps that was the best.

     Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed David shifting in the bed. It made her incredibly more aware. This wasn't something she could have a huge freak out over. No, no, she would need to be an adult about this. David was passed out, unlikely to awake any time soon. That was how it was meant to be. If she managed to wake him, what kind of person could she consider herself? Her need to stay silent was what would keep her together, for the most part.

     The phone was located next to the clock. TO get to it, though, she had to close the small distance between herself and the little table they sat on. The numbers on the clock stared back angrily as she did so. Little whimpers escaped her mouth as she walked. It wasn't too loud, but it was certainly audible. But, she wasn't too worried about it. David would be passed out, and he was the only one that would be capable of hearing it.

     This wasn't what she liked to be. The only reason she hadn't stormed out of the door and home to deal with this was that David was awake. No one ever saw this side of her. She couldn't afford to. The last person she had cried in front of was her mother, and that had been years and years ago, when she was just a small child. Adeline had learned early in life that crying in front of people got her nowhere.

     Seeming meek had gotten her nowhere in life. Sure, she seemed a bit submissive, and usually would bend to other people's wills, but she wasn't pathetic. No one ever got to see how they affected her. She wouldn't allow them to. If people saw how they could hurt her, it would only make things worse. They would only know how to harm her more. No, she took everything with a smile on her face, and would deal with the emotional fallout later, when she was alone.

     With one eye open, David watched the honestly pathetic scene play out in front of him. His heart ached for the poor girl. The noises leaving her were pitiful. All he wanted to do was wrap her up and protect her from whatever was bothering her. But that was the problem. David couldn't figure out what had caused such a swing. Sure, the night before she had seemed shy and nervous, but nothing like this. For a second, he considered that perhaps having Angie kill her might have been the most humane thing to do. Something inside him wouldn't allow him to follow that thought, though.

     When she reached for the phone, David only became more confused. Adeline herself was in such a state of shock, she didn't notice that David was clearly fully awake. Instead, she just focused on the phone. She had thought she knew the number for the restaurant. As she tried to recall it, it became clear she didn't. Maybe she had one known it, but in her state of absolute panic, she couldn't think straight enough to remember it.

     Her words to the operator were jumbled at best and completely unclear at worst. Even David couldn't pick out what she was saying. It took her three times to be able to spit out the name of her work. Her stuttered apologies in between each attempt made it worse. God, she wanted to drop dead on the spot. Not only had someone heard how pathetic she was, but she was sure she had made the operator's day that much unnecessarily harder.

     Her heart, as the call was put through, was beating like she had just run a full marathon in a single hour. David feared that she truly might just drop dead. No one's heart ever sounded like that, unless they were completely doped up on coke. What was so upsetting to her? Nothing she had said yet gave away what the problem might even be. The noises coming from her felt like a punch in the gut to him. But until David could understand the problem, he didn't want to intervene. What if the problem was him?

     "Hello, this is Mr. Johnson at The Chateau. I'm so sorry for the delay of your phone call, how may I help?" The voice on the other end of the line was almost foreign to Adeline. There was only one person it could be. The other person scheduled to work that morning was a lady, and never showed up before noon. It had to be her boss. Was this what other people saw? She never heard this man so friendly. Is this why people had told her to apply there?

     "Uhh, hell-hell Mr. Johnson, it's Adel-" was all she managed to get out. It was all he needed to change his demeanor completely. The nice, friendly man was gone in a flash. If she was in front of him, she would see his face turning a bright shade of red. As it was, she could imagine what he looked like.

     That friendly voice was quickly yelling. He erupted into an angry stream of swears and slurs, all screamed into the phone and at her. For a brief moment, he paused and Adeline saw her opportunity. As much as this hurt, she had to try and make it better. There had to be something she could do. Perhaps this was where her luck would fall into place, perhaps her prayer would be answered.

     "Sir, sir, I'm so so so sorry about this, but I can still come in. I can, I can be there in-in." Her voice stumbled as she tried to figure out exactly where she was.

     "In? You want to come in? You think you still have a job here, you ungrateful little slut!" He screamed. "I told you that if you were late, you were fucking dead to me! Do you take me for a joker?" He paused to take a deep breath. Adeline was more than familiar with the bright shade of red his face would be. "You're fucking fired, don't you get that you dumbass!" He screamed.

     There was another small break in his voice, and Adeline thought he had hung up. No such luck. It seemed that all her luck had finally run out. Her now former boss launched into another tirade of screams and slurs. She just stood there and took it. Her brain was slowly breaking as the reality hit her. Her life, it now seemed, had been lived on luck. That luck truly was gone, and she was about to face real life.

     She stood there for another few moments, listening to everything he said. All the nasty things he said she believed. But she just took it, trying to keep her brave face for the world. She could only hold it for so long, though. Even she had her limits, and she was fast approaching it.

     As much as she wanted to hang up the phone, she simply couldn't. Her knees gave out first and she collapsed to the ground into a ball. The thud from the phone falling against the table was no doubt audible on the other end of the line. That didn't seem to faze her boss. The screams, while she could no longer make out the specific words he said, could still be heard.

     Sobs escaped from her lips. She curled tighter and tighter into herself, trying to silence herself. David was mostly forgotten to her now. Her mind was very much focused elsewhere. But, she couldn't bring herself to remember why she had to be quiet. The pain of her new life situation, jobless and soon to be homeless, weighed too heavily on her.

     David had watched, with one eye open, the scene play out from the bed. When she collapsed onto the floor, he knew something was wrong, extremely so. Nothing she had said made sense to him. He wasn't sure what she had been babbling about on the phone. It seemed to be about her job, but David honestly wasn't that sure. But, he did know he couldn't just say in bed anymore. As much as he tried to seem unaffected by the world, her emotions and pain moved him.

      He moved from the bed silently. Though, something told him that she would hardly pay him any attention. Whatever the issue truly was, it had nothing to do with him. She was lost to her own little world. David assumed it was for good reason.

     A soft sigh left his mouth as he got himself out of bed. This was the last moment he wanted to be naked in. It was vulnerable enough, his junk didn't need to be involved. But, dressing wasn't an option. He had other things that were much too important to bother getting dressed.

     He stood over her for a second and then grabbed the phone. He put it too his ear for just a few moments, and felt his stomach lurch. Whoever this man was, the things he was saying were vile.

     "You're truly a pathetic man and I promise I'll make you eat each and every single word you've just said," he said before he slammed the phone back onto the receiver. Not once did Adeline look up as this happened. That truly worried him.

     Anyone within a ten-mile radius of the hotel would know that she needed to be comforted. Angie, with her heart of stone, might even be moved to care for this poor girl. That wasn't the issue David was having. He knew what he needed to do, he just didn't know how to do it. It had been so long since David had seen grief and sadness like this. What was he to do?

     He racked his brain for a few moments. The only thing he could compare this to was his son, to when his Zowie and kicking and screaming and crying and only a parent's love would calm him. Perhaps his instincts would kick in. But that still required figuring how to go about this. Did vampires even have compassionate instincts? He had seen them in his mother. But, if they belonged to all vampires, Angie had kicked them to the curb decades ago.

     David decided to pretend, for a second, that she wasn't crying. Crying people could handle. He could hold them and whisper all the right words to them. Surely this moment wasn't that different from those moments.

     As he crouched down, Adeline still seemed unaware of his presence. He didn't know how to go about making himself more obvious. The last thing he wanted to do was spook her. But, he was standing right in front of her, stark naked as the day he was born.

     "Sweet, sweet Adeline," he whispered. He sat down next to her and listened to her sobs. No words came out, which was unhelpful to him. How was he going to figure out how to fix this if he couldn't even figure out what the problem was?

     At the sound of his voice, Adeline's head snapped to look at him. It was clear from the look in her eyes she wasn't processing this at all. His heart ached for her. She looked startled, as if he was about to kill her. If only she knew the irony in that thought.

     A twinge of fear filled David for a second. Would she blame him for whatever happened? Adeline, of course, felt no such emotion. She herself felt fear. Would he be angry at her? Of course she had managed to wake David with her pathetic sniveling. The one man in the hotel that was supposed to sleep like the dead, the one man that should have slept until nighttime, and she had woken him up. Not only had she woke him up, but she had likely brought more trouble to his day than he expected.

     The tips of her ears flushed hot. She shook her head at what he said. It was embarrassing to be seen like this. Of course, it wasn't the first time she had lost her mind like this. It wasn't her first break down. Her job was incredibly miserable. The stress of it normally got to her. Her boss was unhelpful, screaming at her with every slight mistake. It was obvious she was treated differently from the rest of the staff. Adeline knew why. But, she was helpless to change anything. No one would listen to her. She would simply just lose her job. Though, that didn't matter now.

     But with those breakdowns and crying fights, she never had an audience. No one knew that she often cried herself to sleep. Adeline wouldn't allow the world to see that. She didn't want to appear weak. And now, now she had an audience of one for her worst breakdown. Her hero, out of everyone, got to see her absolutely lose her mind.

     For a moment, she forced the tears to stop coming so quickly. Her mouth opened to give some sort of apology. She stammered and stuttered and her words didn't quite make sense. Whenever he attempted to get closer to her, she would just shake her head and back away. David didn't quite understand what was going on. Perhaps she was mad at him. He couldn't make out what she was trying to say. Did she mean to tell him off in between her sobs?

     Once she backed herself into a corner, David seemed to pick up on what she meant. A few of her words were more coherent, made more sense together. It was him she felt bad for. She was, she was trying to apologize. David didn't quite understand. He wasn't getting quite getting that she assumed she had woken him up.

     "No, no no no my darling," he said softly. "Get out whatever you need to first, and then we can talk. Yes? You're alright." His voice was soft as he spoke. Even to Adeline, in her state of sheer panic, she picked up at the compassion and kindness in his eyes. He sat on the floor, next to her, and opened his arms wide. "Come," he said gently.

     It took her a few seconds to understand he truly was not mad. Her brain was quite up to processing that just yet. He wasn't upset about the rude wake up. At least, he didn't seem mad, for now. Perhaps once she calmed and down and he could make sense of the situation, that was when the anger would set in. Addie realized she needed to calm down first.

     She leaned into him and David only pulled her closer. Her face pressed up against his chest. She felt like she was completely engulfed by him. It was also in that moment that they realized they were both nude. It made the whole thing incredibly more vulnerable. Here she was in just panties, and he seemed to be completely stark naked. It was a shocking experience for her, but her tears didn't show any sign of stopping.

     They sat like that for some time. The only sound that filled the room was her uneven breathing and her soft sobs. Even with him right there, comforting her, she tried to hold some of it back. She just wanted to stop crying. Once she was in control of her nerves, she looked up at him with her tearstained face. "I'm-I'm so sorry for waking you like-like this," she mumbled.

     David's immediate response was to just tut her and take her face into his hands. He held her gaze for just a moment. "No, my darling," he whispered, "don't apologize to me." He placed a gentle kiss to her forehead. Her took her more into his arms. That seemed impossible to Adeline, but somehow he managed to get them closer.

     "What's upset you so much? What happened? You were just fine last night. What happened, my girl? What happened on that phone call?" He asked.

     For a moment, Adeline felt like she was in shock. She hadn't expected him to be a complete ass. Well, at first she had. But it had become obvious he felt a bit of sympathy for her. He seemed to truly care, though. It was hard to follow. Adeline had expected for him to ask her to leave. She hadn't expected him to as what was wrong.

     Anyone else in his class, at his level of rock star, would have been screaming and kicking her out of the room. This wasn't his problem. Why should he care? IF that had happened… Addie wasn't sure how she would have managed to get home. But, to show so much care for another person, for someone he had only signed up to fuck?

     As she tried to process the moment, David's eyes never left hers. It wasn't a hard stare. There wasn't a shred of anger or disappointment or fury anywhere on his face or hidden in his eyes. They only showed kindness and compassion. Something about that scared Adeline. She hadn't prepared for it. The whole situation seemed so foreign to her, it was too much of a wild care.

     "I-I should get going. I'm sure you've got a lot of things to do today. You're a busy man, no doubt," she mumbled while shaking her head. It was a pathetic attempt to change the subject. When she talked, she couldn't bring herself to look at his face, let alone looking into his eyes.

     "I can't, I simply won't let you out into the world like this. No girl has ever left my room crying, and you won't be the first. Tell me, dear Adeline, what upset you so?" It wasn't a lie, what David said. At least, he assumed none of the girls had left crying. It was easier to omit some important information than tell the truth. She would be the first to leave crying, and he couldn't allow for it. Not after how hard he had worked to keep her alive.

     "I'm just, I'm being dramatic is all. It's nothing it's fine, really," she insisted. "I should leave you in peace." It took her another few minutes to full realize he meant everything he said.

     At first, she hadn't taken what he said positively. She was just one girl in a long line of them. She hadn't fooled herself into thinking she was special. It was why she had started to insist she leave. But to be reminded she was nothing special? She had lost her virginity to him, and she was nothing to him at all. Why should he care about her? But there was something in his eyes that she noticed once she could look at him.

     "Unless you are the best actress in the world, I doubt you're overreacting," he said gently. He sighed though, assuming he might not get anywhere with her. "But if you truly do not want to tell me, I can't keep you forever. I don't want to kidnap you. That certainly isn't my goal," he said with a soft chuckle. Adeline found herself laughing as well.

     "But, I truly would like to know what upset you so. Such a pretty face shouldn't be so tear-stained and distraught," he said gently.

     "I'm just, I'm an idiot," she mumbled after a moment. Again, all she seemed capable of doing was shaking her head. "I-I missed work and I got fired. I really, I didn't mean to wake you up. I'm so sorry for that, you should have been able to sleep in and I ruined that and I'm just-" she rambled but David stopped her. It was all incredibly embarrassing to admit, especially to him.

     The whole situation was, of course. But saying why she had broken down like that? Surely normal people only reacted like this when someone died. People lost their jobs all the time. It was the nature of the game. But, she knew she wasn't simply out of a job. Finding another job wouldn't be quick. If she didn't get one within a few days, she knew that she stood a good chance at becoming homeless. She'd have to explain it again to her landlord, to the next job. It was all so crushing. To tell her hero? It made her want to crawl under a rock and die.

     "You've done nothing wrong to me." His voice was stern, but still understanding, as he talked. It did help to lessen Addie's guilt, if only a little. There wasn't anything that would wipe it away. In her eyes, she had still woken him. David couldn't explain that he had been awake the whole time. That would just open another can of worms he didn't want, couldn't, deal with right now.

     "You shouldn't be too hard up until your next one, I'm sure. A darling like you should be able to find a job quick, or at least have a few friends you can rely on for a bit." There was confidence in his voice that Addie didn't want to ruin. He didn’t need to know all the details. That wouldn't stop her from opening her big mouth, though.

     "I don't know about that," she mumbled and shook her head. "No, no I'm sure I'll be fine." She continued to mumble as she talked. Why would David want to listen to her complain about her life? He was so far past the issues of her life. Why relive them? Assuming he had ever faced such issues as she was now facing. Addie didn't know much about his early life. There was no way to be able to find anything.

     "Darling," David's voice was low, "tell me the truth. Don't put on a brace face for me. You're not protecting me from anything, you're just hiding yourself. You don't need to hide from me," he said gently. It was almost interesting to him to see such raw emotion. The people around him… They were incredibly fake.

     It was easy to deal with those fake people, of course. That's why they were the way the were. The put up a wall to try and act how they thought he would want to see them. Everyone from the roadies, to his wife, to even a few of his band members. They created a caricature so they could fit into the rock star lifestyle. It sickened him to deal with them all the time. It's why he had to create his own wall, to keep his own emotions in.

     But Addie hadn't down that. Hadn't created any sort of wall between them. Instead, she laid everything in front of him. He knew that people like her existed, he just never got to see them.

     "I'll probably be evicted," she mumbled quietly. "It took me months to find this job, and I haven't enough saved up for rent and it's due next week and I know I won't get paid for the work I put in last week," she mumbled. It was a small rant. David had asked, and now all her fears were spilling out of her.

     It really was that one missing check that was screwing her over. If she knew it was coming, she would be safe for another month. It would have been rocky. Food would have been tough to come by, but she would still have a house. A roof over her head would have made the job search a little less stressful. Now, she knew she wouldn't have that comfort.

     David just listened for the moment and took in her words. It was sinking into him how truly dire this situation was. His life might not have always been the lap of luxury he now had, but he and his mum certainly hadn't had worries like this. It was obvious she was going to suffer. Suffer because he had demanded to feed from her. Perhaps letting Angie take her during the night might have been the kindest thing to do.

     Because of him, he was realizing, she was going to lose everything. She was going to lose everything and be out on the streets. They sat in silence as that sunk into him. The words had left her mouth and she had simply returned to crying. David couldn't blame her.

     "Oh, darling sweet Adeline," he said as he pressed her face close to his chest. He rubbed her back and ran a few fingers through her curls. Words were failing him at the moment. All he could offer were physical comforts. How could he make this better? She couldn't lose everything because of him. He wouldn't allow it.

     "Darling, will you let me help you? This is easily blamed on me. Stay with me for a while, stay with me for the rest of the tour. Let me help you back on your feet after knocking you down," he said. The words were out of his mouth before he realized what he had said. It was true, he would love to have her for some time. There was something inside of him that didn't want to let her go.

     Perhaps it was just her blood, she was his preferred type after all. Perhaps it was some bizarre hero complex. Perhaps he just needed to save someone and she fell so conveniently into his life, and into his lap. A beautiful bird with a broken wing had finally come to his window. All the tools to fix her, or at least aid in her healing, were at his fingertips.

     It felt like something deeper than that, though. This was personal to her. Any of his other girls, and he likely wouldn't have cared. He let them all be murdered, night after night. She had helped him, even if she didn’t know it. She may never know it. If nothing else, she could be the beginning of his separation from Angie. He knew he could use her for it, just as she could use him for money and stability.

     Of course, it helped that she didn't seem to see him as a dollar sign. Everyone around him did. It was one of the reasons they put up the walls they did to deal with him. From the roadies, to the groupies, to his very own 'wife,' he was nothing but a way to get money. And blood, for those that fell into needing that more than cash.

It seemed to him that Adeline rarely put herself above other people. He could be wrong, but this interaction didn't suggest that. He hoped to change that, at least a little bit. But, it was still refreshing to see someone that cared for others.

"Oh, no, no, no, no," she mumbled. She rapidly shook her head as she talked. "I can't, I can't accept that. You haven't done a thing." She looked up at him as she spoke. His face was stern. It told him not to argue. No wasn't an answer he was going to accept. With David, it never seemed to be. At least, it wasn't an option unless she truly meant it. She felt the guilt eating at her now. He blamed himself for this. He shouldn't, he couldn't. She was the one that gave in when she knew from the beginning that she couldn't.      

For once, David and Adeline seemed to be on the same mental path. He simply wouldn't allow for her to say no. In this situation, she couldn't afford to back out. All the other times, if she had wanted the no, he would have allowed it. Right now, she couldn't afford to refuse his offer.

"No, I simply insist. I won't take no for an answer my dearest Adeline. You've nowhere else to turn. I'd hate to see you on the streets and hurt. You've such a pretty face," he said.

As he talked, he began to wipe tears away from her face. "Let me care for you. You can do some work with the roadies to earn a bit of money if you feel you must," he explained. "Let me help you on your feet."

Adeline simply couldn't say yes to this offer. It was too grand; it was too kind. What if he grew sick of her? "You have a wife, I know you do," she whispered. It was the only way she could think to back herself out of this. She shouldn't have opened her big mouth. "She wouldn't approve. I can't do that to you, this was already too much."

At the mention of Angie, David simply laughed. "We're not in love, my wife and I, if that's what you worry about," he said. "We fell out of love a long time ago." Of course, there had never been true love between them, but David wouldn't let that be known. "She doesn't care that I take girls. She knows at the end of the day that she's still my wife, and gets any legal benefits. You might ease her, just a tad. If I keep the same girl, she won't have to see me go through so many. Won't have to watch me looking night after night."

What he said wasn't a complete lie. But he knew this girl would not ease his wife. That was the only lie he planned to say to her. He did want her to say. Even if it was just for her blood.

With his response, Adeline found herself in a tough place. It was a dilemma she hadn't expected. There was no way she could say yes to this. It was simply too nice of an offer. He said there would be work involved, if she wanted it, but how helpful could she ever really be? It seemed so unfair, especially to him. He'd have to support her both on the road, and then give her money for later. All she would end up being was a burden.

Adeline opened her mouth to explain all this. She was determined to get David to understand her point of view. He had to understand why she simply couldn't. But the words would never get a chance to leave her mouth.

Just as she was about to say what she was sure would persuade David, he put a finger too her lips. It was a surprisingly efficient way to shush her. "Tell me yes, darling. I don't want to hear another word slip off your tongue. Don't deny me this, it's the one request you simply can't. I beg you," he said gently, "Say yes. Cone on the road with me, finish out the tour. The road gets so lonely, so many passing faces. Be a constant."

Something inside of Adeline couldn't say no. She felt foolish. He'd finally convinced her, she guessed. If she didn't know better, she would have thought it was magic. She would have thought David had cast a spell on her. But that wasn't possible, not from him. Addie knew what a foolish thought it was. David wouldn’t be capable of that.

A moment passed between them. David felt an unexpected bit of anxiety rise in him. Would she say no? Her head was saying yes before she could find the words. She nodded for a few moments, before a soft "yes," left her lips.

The grin that grew on David's face was impossible to describe. Even he didn't truly understand why he had pushed so much for this girl. For now, he would say it was a way to drive Angie away. He placed a soft kiss to her forehead.

"Go wash up, take however long you need to in the bathroom. I'll have some clothes waiting for you when you get out," he said as he stood. He extended his hand so that she could take it. "Then we can do whatever it is that you need to," he said.

Adeline stood and found her legs a little less shaky this time. David seemed to be a good rock. At least, he was a good rock for now, until the end of the tour. "I have just a few things I need to run and do, but they'll be quick," he said, "so just make sure to take your time. Unwind a little."

[undersummerskyy]

Dr J, hope you are well! Got anything cooking in the fic department? You always have such well written stuff.

Hey you! I lovveeee getting messages like this, they mean a lot! And to answer your question: I’m working on some stuff, yeah, I always am. Just have to find the time to write, which is difficult. Anyways, as a thank you for this wonderful message, here’s something I just quickly wrote for you! (sort of vaguely based on real-life events because Kendrick and I share our tinyness.. in fact.. she’s just a bit taller than me). Hope you have a wonderful day! 

Beca is a little drunk, home alone, and she wants something.

 Actually, she wants a lot of things. Like, a better job, Amy paying rent, decent food instead of take out every night, a different president, an apartment that doesn’t have a toilet behind a fucking curtain, an actual bed, Chloe..

You know.. all the normal stuff.

But right now, she wants Amy’s fancy whiskey that was on one of the higher shelves in their kitchen. She wasn’t particularly a fan of whiskey, but she was well aware of the fact that the Australian girl had only put it in that spot because she knew that Beca wouldn’t be able to reach it. Just like Chloe liked to tease her by putting her cereal there too, although Beca had started to get up before the other woman, and Chloe’s joke turned out to be a lot less fun when Beca made her get up at 5am to go get the cereal for her.

Anyways, she wants the whiskey, because damnit she’s done with these people stopping her from getting the things she wants. She had a horrible day at work, nobody has apparently decided to come home tonight (no texts, nothing. Which is normal for Amy, but not for Chloe who usually texts her updates about every 10 minutes. And yes, she pretends to be annoyed by it, but it has now officially been an hour and Beca definitely misses her and her texts like crazy) and she drank the four beers that she found in the fridge.

Which is more than her tiny body can handle. Apparently. She sort of forgot that she’s not in college anymore, and her body isn’t used to consuming alcohol like this anymore. (She’s an adult now.. or whatever.. so it’s all red wine during dinner and having one beer after work with her awkward co-workers who she secretly hates).  

But still, she wants that whiskey, and she just keeps staring angrily at the shelf, hoping that it will somehow magically make its way down to her where she’s laying on her and Chloe’s bed. Speaking of Chloe, it has now been an hour and ten minutes, which is just officially too long.

Chloeeeeeeeeeeeeeewweeeei ant the facny ass whsikeg thst amy keeps on thst duckign shelf you giys won’t let me tjouvh.Ckme homeand get it for me. Pleweaaaseeeeeee.Ok. Love yiy. ByeeeeeeBitchell out

 Grinning at her own phone, she sends the message.

 To her own surprise, she gets a response not two minutes later.

 Becs, are you drunk?

 She snorts, and shakes her head, even though there’s no one to see it.

 No.

 Yeah, she’s definitely got this. Short, to the point, no mistakes. There’s no way Chloe’s going to think she’s drunk now. She can do this.

 Im gettjng my drink.

Minutes later, she’s pushed their small dining table against the kitchen counter and is leaning forward, trying to reach the higher shelf. She’s so close, she can almost reach it. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she notices how wobbly the table is, and how unstable she is, and how the alcohol is sort of making her vision all blurry and wait.. where exactly is that bottle? Is that it? No that’s just maple syrup. The problem is, those thoughts are a little too far in the back of her mind, and she ignores the rational part in her that’s screaming at her to stop doing what she’s doing and just go back down and drink water. Instead, she takes another step forward until suddenly.. the table beneath her starts to tilt and she has nothing to hold onto.

 “Shit!” She yells, desperately trying to find something, anything to grab.

 “Becs!”

She closes her eyes and waits for her body to hit either the table or the floor, but neither happens. Instead, she lands in someone’s arms. She knows it’s Chloe, because she recognizes the smell of her shampoo instantly. And also, Amy would have let her fall to the floor. She would also probably have filmed it. But not Chloe.

 Of course not.

“Chlo?”

Chloe’s still holding her, she notices. And even though she knows she’s pretty tiny (which is why this whole thing started in the first place) and light, she’s surprised that Chloe doesn’t even look to be having any difficulty whatsoever carrying her.  

 Beca looks up then, and finally, the two make eye contact, Beca immediately getting lost in Chloe’s blue eyes. Which seem to be looking at her with a somewhat worried expression. Then, she smiles and a twinkle appears in her eyes, a look Beca has gotten to know all too well over the years.

 “Falling for me, I see?” Chloe teases, and it’s a little more forward than she usually is towards Beca. At least, over the last year or so. But apparently, she doesn’t care right now, probably hoping that Beca won’t remember. She gently puts the younger girl down and guides her over to the bed, making sure Beca is steady sitting on the edge of it by herself, before standing in front of her, watching her. 

But the brunette just laughs then, an actual honest laugh, the one that they all only rarely get to hear. Then she snorts, to make matters even worse. 

“Yeah, sure, like I haven’t been doing that for the last six years.”

She expects Chloe to laugh and brush it off. Or something similar. But instead, she swallows hard and shifts her weight from one foot to the other while she avoids Beca’s gaze. Wait.. is Chloe nervous right now? She assumes she is, because she has a similar expression on her face as the one she had when they were about to perform in Copenhagen.

 “What, like,” she starts, “literally.. you mean?” She ends it with a nervous laugh, confirming Beca’s earlier suspicion.

 The DJ shrugs. “Both. Actually. Literally and figuratively.”

 In an instant, Chloe’s eyes shot back to hers. “You mean that?”

 Beca smiles. “Of course. Now I wanna sleep. Cuddle with me, please Chlo?”

The redhead returns her smile, then nods slowly as she carefully sits down on their bed, Beca immediately turning on her side and making room for Chloe behind her. As soon as the older woman has her arms wrapped around Beca’s waist, she lets out a content and sleepy sigh, snuggling a little closer to Chloe’s body. 

“Chloe?” She asks, after a few minutes of laying together in silence.

 “Yeah, becs?”

 “Are uh- are you falling for me too?” The alcohol is starting to wear off, and suddenly she feels nervous. What if Chloe doesn’t, and she has just made the biggest mistake of her life and ruined their friendship.

 “No.”

Her heart clenches painfully in her chest. Oh my god. What had she done? How could she be so stupid? Just as she is about to pull away from Chloe and get some space, the redhead just pulls her tighter against her and presses a kiss to her shoulder.

“I just mean, I wouldn’t say ‘falling’, Beca. I’ve been in love with you since day one.”

The brunette smiles, her heart full of emotions right now, then grabs Chloe’s hand that was resting on her stomach and intertwines their fingers. 

“Hey Chlo?”

“Yes?”

“Will you make me pancakes with maple syrup tomorrow morning? I can’t reach the syrup.”

[violetsystems]

#personal

Sometimes it’s good to have a break in the narrative.  I keep going back to that meme post that says something like “If being hard on yourself worked, it would have worked by now.”  It’s an easy time to be hard on yourself.  It’s been below freezing for days on end.  I’ve shoveled endless amounts of snow having to balance the political nature of being seen.  I have to be sensitive to fragile male egos who think I’m trying to outperform them.  It’s not very hard when I observe little or no effort from people in terms of care everyday.  People have been randomly observing it too.  The episode the other day holding the door at the train station.  The man who commented was both dumbfounded and distraught.  “You are the only person who took the time to hold that door open the last hour.”  I appreciate those moments because they are real.  Nobody other than my parents acknowledged my birthday really.  One contact on LinkedIn.  Somebody I worked with that was also let go and found a new career.  People I think mention birthdays in conversation at random in passing thinking I’ll bring mine up.  But I never really do.  I don’t drink alcohol anymore so there’s nothing for people to celebrate.  Nobody baked me a cake.  People follow me around enough but it’s always this feeling like they hope I’ll engage them in conversation.  They hope I’ll reach out when I’m hoping the same.  People aren’t there in capacity to care.  If they were they would have been there back in July when all my personal belongings were thrown out into the trash from a job I worked twenty years.  If I sound bitter I’m not.  If anyone ever had to be sure I would drop everything to be with them that’s a great display of attachment.  I lost so many books.  So many items from childhood I collected.  I lost access to all my contacts.  I was locked out of accounts.  And I was reminded two years prior nobody remembered my birthday there either.  I was sent paperwork one year on my day off by my ex boss who I’d known for years.  It was to write a full page document honoring one of my employees for their hard work.  I wrote it and sent it off on my birthday.  Nobody said anything.  The next two years I decided to fly off to New York by myself.  I wondered if anyone really would remember or care.  My birthday always falls on Fashion Week out there.  It’s a fun place to go and be seen but not be good enough to acknowledge.  This year without a vaccine in sight I’m pretty much stuck here by all accounts.  If you asked somebody the question if they thought a place was healthy for their future, this city would have a low score for me.  It’s toxic as fuck.  Everybody seems to know everything about you.  Every little thing you do.  They follow you around hoping you’ll play along with their suggestions.  Maybe you’ll start the conversation.  Maybe you’ll spill the beans.  Maybe you’ll discover local tattoo artists following you around in the grocery store hoping you’ll get depressed enough to blow your birthday money on a tattoo.  But since Monday, nobody has really acknowledged I’m another year older.  If I did, they’d probably neg me about it.  Use it to bully me into thinking I’m less important than I am.  But being hard on yourself never works.  And this isn’t me being hard on myself.  This is absolute neglect.

Spoiler alert obviously is that I don’t really care.  I write here for other reasons.  Last week was a busy week for everybody with Lunar New Year, the seasons starting, and Hallmark holidays notwithstanding.  I actually care more about V Day than anything.  Mostly because it’s always the opposite.  My birthday is always the day after.  This year it was swallowed by president’s day, impeachment trials and Gamestop wannabes.  To be loved and cared about is something I desire.  I think that’s human.  And largely I believe that I am.  It’s very hard to ignore these days for the record.  And so I like to keep my mind focused on that goal specifically.  Which means out here I keep to myself, keep my liabilities lean, and stay accountable for my own actions.  I am an only child so I’m used to being isolated, nerdy and alone.  I’m also an extremely social and transparent being.  I don’t believe in wasting time being fake about how I feel.  And yet that’s all I ever see in public.  People wasting my time being fake thinking they know what’s best for me.  This is America at it’s heart.  A complex paradox of well meaning bullshit wrapped up in the English language.  Repeating sentences and sentiments is one thing.  Action and communication is another.  It’s pretty easy to remember somebody’s date of birth if you care.  There’s people who act like they know you well enough to think somebody would have said something if they really cared.  And they don’t.  I’ve said this before on a stream.  If I focused on all the people that literally don’t care when I was born or I live or die I’d be one depressed motherfucker.  The reality is worse than anyone could imagine with me.  But I’m tough enough to stand on my own two.  This doesn’t change the reality that I am literally trapped in an abusive situation from all sides.  There’s no vaccine in my arm.  Covid-19 changed my life completely more than most people.  Every opportunity out there is based on fear or intimidation.  I’m supposed to guess when I shoot too high and I’m supposed to accept that I deserve less than I’m worth so someone else can hold onto more.  I’m supposed to wait until America is back again and yet America has wronged me in ways I can’t even explain without being gaslighted by happy faces and hushed looks.  I’ve also spent years travelling on my own with barely any network to rely on.  So when it comes to the future, I expect I’d just prefer to do more of the same and leave it all behind.  And yet there’s this dead space.  A time of complete silence.  A time where people want to believe that I’m making it worse than it is.  That I shovel twelve inches of snow and people pretend it was taken away by the jungle.  People are afraid of giving you credit because they’re afraid they’ll owe you something.  And yet people get upset when I point out that there was money in a police budget years ago to shovel the sidewalks.  I show my expired driver’s license and passport to prove my identity and I get commentary about how I should go renew my driver’s license in the middle of a pandemic when the facilities have been closed.  I’d be walking around to do that.  And I’ve walked by police stations out here where the sidewalk is covered in ice, snow and shit.  I ride public transportation because I moved to this city for that reason alone.  I owned and payed off a car that I have to see parked in the neighborhood at times.  This is because that car was literally forfeited from my last relationship.  There was no legal precedent in that.  I just had to break free.  That was ten years ago.  Ten years later I’ve broken free from everything it seems.  And yet I’m still stuck acting out a dark sitcom that feels like it ends with me dying alone.

That’s not how I’m writing this pilot at all.  That is if my life were a reality show.  My life is a mess because of other people.  And it has compounded into such an utterly sick display of lack of care and attention, I almost feel like people want me to die in obscurity to prove the point for them.  I’m not going to do that.  I have a lot to live for.  Though I’m not completely sure one hundred percent if the dream I’m chasing is even true.  Which is an exhausting thing to balance in life.  That in six months if whatever I was waiting for to happen just disappeared like an urban legend.  That all this was just some deep prank people pulled on me collectively on the internet.  Then I have to start making some serious decisions on where I want to be after all of this.  I’m damaged by other people’s expectations on something I’ve never shared with anyone.  People assume they know everything about me.  And in some ways, if you read my journals here you do.  The problem is that my narrative is buried for better or for worse.  I can excel in anything.  It’s like there’s some preordained path out there for me but the road isn’t built yet.  People think I’m going to settle down and realize the deep fucking value of my place in this city.  A police state that is so blatantly obvious and oppressive that I feel China might be a better option for my future than New York City.  These are all normal emotions to balance when you realize you have been fucking abandoned and tormented at the same time.  Easy enough conclusion to come to when you spend your birthday for the third year alone.  Society always wants to make you think you are the problem.  You’ll neuter yourself and play the good dog.  Accept a lower salary.  Accept working for a boss that’s a placeholder for your spot in their accounting books.  A mark to market shit show where productivity means shit and your presence is simply a write off.  A consumer to bully to maximize shareholder value.  And if you don’t submit, you are on your own kid.  I’m not a kid anymore.  I’m pretty old.  And yet adults younger than me treat me like I’m some sort of fuckup.  People saddled with debt, unfulfilling personal relationships and greed.  I’m none of those.  A dying breed quite literally.  I have no real hope for the future at this point out here.  I hold on to a dream that might not even be real.  That I might find some place that treats me like I matter.  That I might have a normal relationship with someone who I can share my dreams with.  Someone who wants to grow with me and vice versa.  That’s not here.  It has never been here.  It has never been more apparent that here is a dangerous, fucked up and evil place.  It’s haughty and proud for no fucking reason.  It can’t even remember to ask your name.  It can’t bother to celebrate the fact that you were born.  It acts like you need to come down to it’s piece of shit level.  A level that has been at odds with every basic civil right I’ve had in this country known to man.  And when it’s all said and done, I could write forever about how jaded, hurt and alienated I feel.  And really it doesn’t fucking matter.  I put the baggage in the past to focus on the future.  And the future is very pink and warm somewhere out past July.  Until then I’m suffering in ways nobody really could comprehend.  And it’s probably best to ignore it and leave it alone if you don’t care.  Because the people who do know exactly how to show to me with a click.  I don’t beg to be understood by people incapable of treating me right.  I’m also not going to sugarcoat this shit anymore.  My life here has been systematically destroyed for a reason.  I’m just man enough to piece it back together like nothing ever happened.  <3 Tim