#its almost shocking how boring claire is

[frogmascquerade]

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[werewolvesandaccordions]

Debussy – Suite Bergamasque (1890 / 1905) I remember when I was in high school I first came across Clair de Lune [I don’t remember exactly how I did, maybe I heard it on TV, or since I was getting more into classical I might have stumbled upon it browsing aimlessly on classical youtube], and I thought it was really pretty of course. To my surprise, looking at other pieces by Debussy, I came across a lot of what I thought was weird, “wrong”, awkward, boring, and ‘not good’. I know, shocking, right? Later my tastes changed and my disdain for Debussy turned, and now he’s one of my favorite composers and I appreciate his genius a lot. But I think of how most people probably only interact with Debussy through Clair de Lune, and so their perception of him may easily be distorted. I remember my cousin mention how she loves Debussy, thinking about the scene in Twilight where Edward and Bella danced to this piece. I wonder if she’s heard anything more from him, the unsettling mystery of the orchestral Nocturnes, the dark atmospheres of the second book of preludes, the ‘exotic’ flavors of L’Isle Joyeuse, or the almost alien sonata for flute, harp, and viola. I’m starting to sound like an obnoxious classical music gatekeeper, so I want to emphasize my point that I find it interesting that Debussy’s most popular work is so different from the later style that caused us to recognize him as a genius. In fact, Debussy never considered publishing these works because they were in his early style, and it was only from the coaxing of his publisher later in his career that he revised them and had them published in his lifetime. The music carries with it a kind of joie de vivre spirit, like evocative night music. Full of late 19th century French harmonies that indulge in subtle dissonances and stretching chords out and coating everything in perfume. To top it off, it is a throwback to French baroque harpsichord music, taking the old forms and bringing them into the turn of the century. The prelude opens with loud parallel fifths, but it is a calm, moderately paced introduction. Following the opening arpeggiated pattern the work meanders a bit like a daydream, no rush and no goal but to indulge in the moment. The minuet has a lot of turns and trills that feel almost Spanish on top of the jumping rhythm. Despite being a minuet, there is no trio section. A gorgeous descending pattern comes up in the middle of the work that feels magical, like colorful rain. Then the famous Clair de Lune comes in with a whisper. Soft, meandering in duet, it is very very easy to imagine the full moon and its glowing halo, or to see its light glimmer over the water. Some nights in college I would lay in bed with my window open so the full moon could cover me, and I’d have my sappy thoughts. This piece brings out my inner ‘sappy’ guy. We follow the melody over its delicate accompaniment, and soon the left hand comes out sounding like a harp, we are carried up into the higher registers, and like glass the melody returns…the magic of this piece keeps its popularity high, and it’s very easy for it to trigger a sense of nostalgia, trying to reach back to old memories. The ending passepied brings us back to Earth, over a rushing ostinato we get another “Spanish” feeling melody playing around in those mysterious French harmonies until drifting off into a delicate and somewhat humorous coda. Movements: 1. Prelude 2. Minuet 3. Clair de Lune 4. Passepied

mikrokosmos: Debussy – Suite Bergamasque (1890 / 1905) I remember when I was in high school I first came across Clair de Lune [I don’t remember exactly how I did, maybe I heard it on TV, or since I was getting more into classical I might have stumbled upon it browsing aimlessly on classical youtube],…

[tinas-art]

Debussy – Suite Bergamasque (1890 / 1905) I remember when I was in high school I first came across Clair de Lune [I don’t remember exactly how I did, maybe I heard it on TV, or since I was getting more into classical I might have stumbled upon it browsing aimlessly on classical youtube], and I thought it was really pretty of course. To my surprise, looking at other pieces by Debussy, I came across a lot of what I thought was weird, “wrong”, awkward, boring, and ‘not good’. I know, shocking, right? Later my tastes changed and my disdain for Debussy turned, and now he’s one of my favorite composers and I appreciate his genius a lot. But I think of how most people probably only interact with Debussy through Clair de Lune, and so their perception of him may easily be distorted. I remember my cousin mention how she loves Debussy, thinking about the scene in Twilight where Edward and Bella danced to this piece. I wonder if she’s heard anything more from him, the unsettling mystery of the orchestral Nocturnes, the dark atmospheres of the second book of preludes, the ‘exotic’ flavors of L’Isle Joyeuse, or the almost alien sonata for flute, harp, and viola. I’m starting to sound like an obnoxious classical music gatekeeper, so I want to emphasize my point that I find it interesting that Debussy’s most popular work is so different from the later style that caused us to recognize him as a genius. In fact, Debussy never considered publishing these works because they were in his early style, and it was only from the coaxing of his publisher later in his career that he revised them and had them published in his lifetime. The music carries with it a kind of joie de vivre spirit, like evocative night music. Full of late 19th century French harmonies that indulge in subtle dissonances and stretching chords out and coating everything in perfume. To top it off, it is a throwback to French baroque harpsichord music, taking the old forms and bringing them into the turn of the century. The prelude opens with loud parallel fifths, but it is a calm, moderately paced introduction. Following the opening arpeggiated pattern the work meanders a bit like a daydream, no rush and no goal but to indulge in the moment. The minuet has a lot of turns and trills that feel almost Spanish on top of the jumping rhythm. Despite being a minuet, there is no trio section. A gorgeous descending pattern comes up in the middle of the work that feels magical, like colorful rain. Then the famous Clair de Lune comes in with a whisper. Soft, meandering in duet, it is very very easy to imagine the full moon and its glowing halo, or to see its light glimmer over the water. Some nights in college I would lay in bed with my window open so the full moon could cover me, and I’d have my sappy thoughts. This piece brings out my inner ‘sappy’ guy. We follow the melody over its delicate accompaniment, and soon the left hand comes out sounding like a harp, we are carried up into the higher registers, and like glass the melody returns…the magic of this piece keeps its popularity high, and it’s very easy for it to trigger a sense of nostalgia, trying to reach back to old memories. The ending passepied brings us back to Earth, over a rushing ostinato we get another “Spanish” feeling melody playing around in those mysterious French harmonies until drifting off into a delicate and somewhat humorous coda. Movements: 1. Prelude 2. Minuet 3. Clair de Lune 4. Passepied

mikrokosmos: Debussy – Suite Bergamasque (1890 / 1905) I remember when I was in high school I first came across Clair de Lune [I don’t remember exactly how I did, maybe I heard it on TV, or since I was getting more into classical I might have stumbled upon it browsing aimlessly on classical youtube],…

[dariaandjanelanefanboy]

Debussy – Suite Bergamasque (1890 / 1905) I remember when I was in high school I first came across Clair de Lune [I don’t remember exactly how I did, maybe I heard it on TV, or since I was getting more into classical I might have stumbled upon it browsing aimlessly on classical youtube], and I thought it was really pretty of course. To my surprise, looking at other pieces by Debussy, I came across a lot of what I thought was weird, “wrong”, awkward, boring, and ‘not good’. I know, shocking, right? Later my tastes changed and my disdain for Debussy turned, and now he’s one of my favorite composers and I appreciate his genius a lot. But I think of how most people probably only interact with Debussy through Clair de Lune, and so their perception of him may easily be distorted. I remember my cousin mention how she loves Debussy, thinking about the scene in Twilight where Edward and Bella danced to this piece. I wonder if she’s heard anything more from him, the unsettling mystery of the orchestral Nocturnes, the dark atmospheres of the second book of preludes, the ‘exotic’ flavors of L’Isle Joyeuse, or the almost alien sonata for flute, harp, and viola. I’m starting to sound like an obnoxious classical music gatekeeper, so I want to emphasize my point that I find it interesting that Debussy’s most popular work is so different from the later style that caused us to recognize him as a genius. In fact, Debussy never considered publishing these works because they were in his early style, and it was only from the coaxing of his publisher later in his career that he revised them and had them published in his lifetime. The music carries with it a kind of joie de vivre spirit, like evocative night music. Full of late 19th century French harmonies that indulge in subtle dissonances and stretching chords out and coating everything in perfume. To top it off, it is a throwback to French baroque harpsichord music, taking the old forms and bringing them into the turn of the century. The prelude opens with loud parallel fifths, but it is a calm, moderately paced introduction. Following the opening arpeggiated pattern the work meanders a bit like a daydream, no rush and no goal but to indulge in the moment. The minuet has a lot of turns and trills that feel almost Spanish on top of the jumping rhythm. Despite being a minuet, there is no trio section. A gorgeous descending pattern comes up in the middle of the work that feels magical, like colorful rain. Then the famous Clair de Lune comes in with a whisper. Soft, meandering in duet, it is very very easy to imagine the full moon and its glowing halo, or to see its light glimmer over the water. Some nights in college I would lay in bed with my window open so the full moon could cover me, and I’d have my sappy thoughts. This piece brings out my inner ‘sappy’ guy. We follow the melody over its delicate accompaniment, and soon the left hand comes out sounding like a harp, we are carried up into the higher registers, and like glass the melody returns…the magic of this piece keeps its popularity high, and it’s very easy for it to trigger a sense of nostalgia, trying to reach back to old memories. The ending passepied brings us back to Earth, over a rushing ostinato we get another “Spanish” feeling melody playing around in those mysterious French harmonies until drifting off into a delicate and somewhat humorous coda. Movements: 1. Prelude 2. Minuet 3. Clair de Lune 4. Passepied

mikrokosmos: Debussy – Suite Bergamasque (1890 / 1905) I remember when I was in high school I first came across Clair de Lune [I don’t remember exactly how I did, maybe I heard it on TV, or since I was getting more into classical I might have stumbled upon it browsing aimlessly on classical youtube],…

[hushilda]

Debussy – Suite Bergamasque (1890 / 1905) I remember when I was in high school I first came across Clair de Lune [I don’t remember exactly how I did, maybe I heard it on TV, or since I was getting more into classical I might have stumbled upon it browsing aimlessly on classical youtube], and I thought it was really pretty of course. To my surprise, looking at other pieces by Debussy, I came across a lot of what I thought was weird, “wrong”, awkward, boring, and ‘not good’. I know, shocking, right? Later my tastes changed and my disdain for Debussy turned, and now he’s one of my favorite composers and I appreciate his genius a lot. But I think of how most people probably only interact with Debussy through Clair de Lune, and so their perception of him may easily be distorted. I remember my cousin mention how she loves Debussy, thinking about the scene in Twilight where Edward and Bella danced to this piece. I wonder if she’s heard anything more from him, the unsettling mystery of the orchestral Nocturnes, the dark atmospheres of the second book of preludes, the ‘exotic’ flavors of L’Isle Joyeuse, or the almost alien sonata for flute, harp, and viola. I’m starting to sound like an obnoxious classical music gatekeeper, so I want to emphasize my point that I find it interesting that Debussy’s most popular work is so different from the later style that caused us to recognize him as a genius. In fact, Debussy never considered publishing these works because they were in his early style, and it was only from the coaxing of his publisher later in his career that he revised them and had them published in his lifetime. The music carries with it a kind of joie de vivre spirit, like evocative night music. Full of late 19th century French harmonies that indulge in subtle dissonances and stretching chords out and coating everything in perfume. To top it off, it is a throwback to French baroque harpsichord music, taking the old forms and bringing them into the turn of the century. The prelude opens with loud parallel fifths, but it is a calm, moderately paced introduction. Following the opening arpeggiated pattern the work meanders a bit like a daydream, no rush and no goal but to indulge in the moment. The minuet has a lot of turns and trills that feel almost Spanish on top of the jumping rhythm. Despite being a minuet, there is no trio section. A gorgeous descending pattern comes up in the middle of the work that feels magical, like colorful rain. Then the famous Clair de Lune comes in with a whisper. Soft, meandering in duet, it is very very easy to imagine the full moon and its glowing halo, or to see its light glimmer over the water. Some nights in college I would lay in bed with my window open so the full moon could cover me, and I’d have my sappy thoughts. This piece brings out my inner ‘sappy’ guy. We follow the melody over its delicate accompaniment, and soon the left hand comes out sounding like a harp, we are carried up into the higher registers, and like glass the melody returns…the magic of this piece keeps its popularity high, and it’s very easy for it to trigger a sense of nostalgia, trying to reach back to old memories. The ending passepied brings us back to Earth, over a rushing ostinato we get another “Spanish” feeling melody playing around in those mysterious French harmonies until drifting off into a delicate and somewhat humorous coda. Movements: 1. Prelude 2. Minuet 3. Clair de Lune 4. Passepied

mikrokosmos: Debussy – Suite Bergamasque (1890 / 1905) I remember when I was in high school I first came across Clair de Lune [I don’t remember exactly how I did, maybe I heard it on TV, or since I was getting more into classical I might have stumbled upon it browsing aimlessly on classical youtube],…

[ratcatcher0325]

Nobody’s Fool Bonus (Chapter #2A)

A third bonus chapter! Woo hoo! This is all of Chapter 2 from Penn’s perspective (minus the bit at the end of the original chapter that’s already in his POV). I enjoyed writing this one. 

Original Chapter: Chapter #2

Previous Bonus Chapters: Chapter #1A, Chapter #2A

CW: Adult language, dehumanization, angst, references to abuse, blood

Reblogs > Likes. Thank you!

________________________________________

NOBODY’S FOOL

Chapter #2A: When Hell Freezes Over

Word Count: 3,630 Read Time: Approx. 28 mins

[Penn’s POV]

She carefully pulled the lapel of her winter coat around me as she stepped outside. With my pitifully thin undershirt and boxers being my only protection from the cold, I was grateful to be shielded from the wind and snow. Still, my mind was racing, trying to understand just what she was planning on doing with me. She’d seemed kind. She’d fed me, bathed me, bandaged me. So why suddenly toss me outside now? I’d die if I was left out in the cold, but maybe I could find some crack in the building or some insulated place to wait out the night. That is if she wasn’t, for some reason, planning on killing me first. But no, she didn’t seem to be headed toward the bushes that skirted the side of the building, or even lowering down to the ground below her. No, she was headed somewhere else. Her car maybe? No. She carried me into the breezeway and took the concrete steps up to the second story.

Oh no. No, no, no. This couldn’t be happening. Turning whiter than my shirt, my vision blurred as I gripped the flesh of her hand. Please let me be wrong. She can’t be taking me back there. I’ll die if I go back there. Claire will butcher me herself! I had never tasted true fear until this moment. My whole frame quaked as each step got us closer and closer to that dreaded threshold. I held my breath as I found myself in front of that familiar, dingy, green door with the 2B metal plate screwed in just above the peephole. As the woman’s free hand, raised in a fist, prepared to knock on the wood, I looked down. Would leaping from this height kill me? Probably. And even if I didn’t die, I could just as easily shatter both legs or be crushed to death under foot. I wanted so desperately to run. But how? And where? I was  stuck, held captive by this woman I’d almost dared to trust.

The knocking of her knuckles on the door, over the sound of the party still raging on, sounded to me like a death knell. I was being sent to slaughter. I just hoped Claire killed me quickly and got it over with. As the doorknob ground in its socket, and the door creaked open, I identified her, immediately. My eyes flashed instinctively between her line of sight and her hands. I knew them all to be unrelenting and deadly quick. She stared above me into the eyes of the woman who held me, my body still somewhat out of sight tucked between the woman’s chest and coat. She was even more hammered than when I’d been thrown out on the balcony and toyed with by those two smokers.

“Whadd you want???” She leaned closer in the doorframe. I jumped almost reflexively. That caught her eye. Suddenly, those awful, piercing blue eyes, almost always rimmed in crimson red, were boring holes into my very soul. I couldn’t help my bodily reaction as I looked into the eyes of the cruelest creature I’d ever had the misfortune of knowing. Quaking from head to toe, I cringed as I felt the sudden warmth between my legs. She watched as I humiliated myself with a malicious smile playing on her lips, “Mmm h-heyy lil dude! Th-Thought you broke your neck down there…. Ha! Guess yer stronger than you look!!” Suddenly her massive finger thrusted forward, aimed right at my heart. I shouted pitifully, absolutely beside myself with terror. Instead of absorbing the shock of the blow in my clavicle or sternum, I felt the surface of the hand I was perched in rock back. The woman was stepping away, out of Claire’s reach to keep her from touching me. If she didn’t want me to be harmed, why the hell were we at this door in the first place? Couldn’t she see how dangerous my owner was for someone as defenseless as me?

The woman holding me proceeded to scold her, “You, you need to take better care of him, Claire. If I hadn’t found him who knows if he would have survived the night? He’s not being fed enough, and he was filthy. I cleaned him up and gave him something to eat…. You should really be more careful…” If I’d ever dared to speak to her in that tone, I’d have ended up as nothing more than a tiny, sun-bleached skeleton in some local landfill years ago. I guessed that was the advantage of being able to look her in the eye, they were on equal footing.

Claire listened with a cocked eyebrow before laughing in this other woman’s face. She was struggling to stand steadily, “Are you giving him back to me? Cuz I don wann him. If you don’t either you can toss him off the balcony again, bonus points if he splatters on impact…” she beamed, proud of her sick joke. “Nah, but I don’t—-I don’t give a fuck. Sell him or somethin’, I’m tired of dealin’ with his ass. He's way too fucking needy…. And ‘spensive…” I froze. It was now all up to the whims of this stranger holding me... what was the rest of my life going to look like? What would she do? Insist on giving me back? Do as instructed and throw me over the ledge for fun? Or take me with her to do with as she pleased? None of these sounded appealing at all, but at least I had a chance of survival with the last one. I trembled in her hand, awaiting her answer.

She spoke again to the drunken blonde woman in the door, her tone biting and fierce, “You are seriously fucked up, Claire. All of you! It’s four in the goddamn morning!! Shut the fuck up and go the fuck home!” No one spoke to Claire that way, not even a fellow human. Every muscle in my body tensed as I waited to see what she would do to the woman holding me. This stranger’s cupped hand being the only line of defense between myself and my torturer.

She lunged forward and I prayed it wouldn’t get physical, because I was certain to be lost in the shuffle, but, suddenly, her eyes glazed over and just as the other woman recognized the signs and sidestepped the disaster, Claire threw up. Nothing I hadn’t witnessed before, but at least I wasn’t covered in it this time.

“Have a good night…” And with that, this stranger turned on her heel and headed back downstairs. I gripped her hand, panting and completely unable to recover from the shock of everything that had just happened. In the blink of an eye, we were back inside, behind closed doors.

It was probably a combination of being exposed to freezing temperatures for too long, cracking my head on concrete and the sheer overwhelming amount of fear and stress I’d just experienced at the hands of these two women tonight, but I just couldn’t take it anymore. My mind had officially broken along with my body.

She’d almost given me back. I’d been inches away from certain death. My face twisted as tried to fight it, but nevertheless, the tears burst forth in a violent wave and I just started to weep.

Her voice pierced my ears, “Hey little fella…. Are you mad at me? For trying to return you? I only brought you back because I thought that’s what I was supposed to do…I, I’m sorry. I see now how abusive it was….”

I just wanted everyone and everything to disappear. I was so tired of being jostled about by giant fingers. Poked, prodded, pinched and played with. I just wanted to be fucking left alone and on solid ground. I didn’t have the strength to scream, so I just curled up into myself and cried even harder.

The woman never said another word, but simply draped that familiar washcloth over my shoulders before setting me down on the heating pad. I didn’t bother looking up, the tears blurred my vision anyway. What a horrible, miserable little life I led, with no choices of my own. I was now stuck in some new, unfamiliar place, with a woman who’s true intentions had yet to be determined, but who I still relied on for practically everything. My body racked with uncontrollable sobs. I hated being so little.

I cried until it physically hurt to continue. Then I just laid there, back pressed to the arm of the couch, a bundled mess of pitiable man (if I was even allowed to call myself that). My spine stiffened again when I suddenly realized I didn’t know where the human was. I’d kept my head tucked inside my knees and hadn’t been tracking her movements. I whipped around as I scanned the room for a sign of her. I never wanted to leave her out of my sight, if I could help it. That way I could always anticipate fits of rage and incoming blows or hands seeking to pluck me up. I saw her, across and a bit behind me to my left, perched on the other couch. Immediately, I darted my gaze away, hoping to avoid her eyes. But I wasn’t fast enough, she’d caught me looking.

Her voice, warm and sweet like honey, cascaded across the room, “Hi, little guy…”

I refused to turn around. Maybe she’d drop it and leave me alone if I was too boring to play with. After all, it looked like she’d been busy working on something. Instead, I took in my surroundings, trying quickly to calculate possible escape routes if needed. Not that I could get very far, all the doors were closed.

I could feel her eyes darting from me back down to the page in her lap and then returning to me. It made my skin crawl. What was she staring at me so intently for? Was she taking notes about my behavior? I didn’t like it. I had to know what she was doing. After a good long while, I finally mustered up the courage and cleared my throat, before speaking to her for the first time, “Ma’am? May I ask…Why do you keep looking at me?” I didn’t dare to look in her eyes, for fear that I may come across as too bold. She paused, my heart leapt into my throat, had I pissed her off? Would she punish me for speaking without being spoken to? Finally, she replied.

“I’m sorry…. Do you not want me to?” I had to see her expression, to gauge how much trouble I was in. I turned toward her, but still kept from meeting her gaze, both out of fear and an attempt at showing respect.

“No ma’am, I just wondered what you were doing….” I wished I hadn’t said anything.

Her voice became softer, more gentle, “Can I come closer? Can I show you?”

Closer meant within arm’s reach. I didn’t want to be picked up anymore. But once again, what choice did I have? I was no bigger than her hand, if she wanted to hold me she’d get her way, even if I cried and spat. She clocked my discomfort immediately. “It’s okay, little man….” She sure was observant. As though she really didn’t want to frighten or hurt me. As though she were actually looking for signs of distress and doing her best to mitigate them. I relaxed a tiny bit. Maybe if I seemed less fearful she’d be less tempted to caress or cradle me. I nodded my head up and down to let her approach. She lit up at that, crossing the room slowly, so as not to frighten me. She sat down on the floor her back to me up against the couch. She scooted so that I could see over her shoulder. To my relief she didn’t get as close as she possibly could, there was enough distance between our bodies that my heart could pound at a steady pace.

She opened up her pad of paper, propping it up on her knee so I had a clear view. What I saw gazing back at me were tons of sketches of my own form, huddled up in the washcloth. My jaw dropped slightly. The pencil markings, simple and expertly set down, somehow resembled me almost exactly. I couldn’t help crawling forward on my hands and knees, just a bit, amazed by what I saw, “…. That’s me?” She nodded yes. “Is that what I look like? So small…” I really was quite a pathetic little creature. I couldn’t imagine how I must’ve appeared to her: weak, terrified, emotional, desperate. But instead of seeing these traits and immediately taking advantage of them, she’d sat quietly while I cried and turned me into tiny works of art.

I was struggling to figure out the type of person this woman was, but I supposed that fact made her seem kind, compassionate, even. I still wasn’t sure what to make of her, but her drawings did warm my heart. She was looking straight at me now, her hair cascading about her face as she turned over her shoulder. Her gaze was bright, and sorrowful.

“Hey, it’s okay. I, I owe you an apology… for, for taking you back there… it was wrong… I’m so sorry for what she did to you….” I felt a pain in my chest, as tears sprung up again in my eyes. No. I didn’t want to relive that nightmare. Not now. Not just when I was beginning to hope, against all odds, that I might not stand on death’s door every day while under the care of this new human. Please don’t take my hope away from me by reminding me of the hell I just came from. She was still looking at me. I hung my head, unsure what to do.

“What’s your name?” Her question took me by surprise, I furrowed my brow.

“Huh?”

“What’s your name? What would you like me to call you? Or I can just keep calling you little guy if you like that better…” I couldn’t tell if she was joking or genuinely meant that.

What answer do you want? I’ve had at least 8 different names over the course of my life… but I assumed she wanted the most recent, “She…. She named me J-Joey, after some tv show character…” I had barely finished my sentence when the pad of her finger came to rest on my head. I stiffened but tried my best not to squirm. “No, what’s your real name?” Her finger suddenly started to move from its perch on my head, down my cheek and, finally, up under my chin. With a tiny amount of pressure from her, she guided my head until our eyes met. I clenched my teeth. You can be brave. Don’t be such a frightened little mouse. I swallowed but kept my gaze fixed, “Penn… my name is Penn… ma’am” she seemed to like that, her face blossomed into a bright smile. My shoulders relaxed a bit. It felt so nice to say my real name aloud for the first time in so long.

My victory was short-lived, though, because suddenly her face was getting closer and closer. Her mouth, in particular, was aiming right for me, descending directly on top of me! Horrified and fearing being bitten, or worse, eaten, I scrambled away into my little corner, unable to run any further. My eyes were wide and my nostrils flared, as my chest heaved. Her voice was as calm and sweet as ever, “Shhh, relax… calm down, you’re okay…” before I could beg her to reconsider, she pressed a finger into my chest, and pinned me up against the couch, making any escape impossible. A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth as she leaned in for a second time, her target now immobilized. But no pain came. Instead, two warm, soft lips pressed sweetly against the top of my head. She hovered millimeters above me and whispered, her breath hot and sweet as it cascaded around me, “Hello, Penn. Nice to finally meet you…” Then, all pressure was released and I slumped to the ground. “I’m Eveline. But mostly people I know call me Ev. You don’t have to keep calling me ma’am, just Ev will do... You okay? I didn’t scare you that badly did I?” I was terrified out of my mind, of course. But I couldn’t deny the absolute thrill of hearing my name, my true name, the name my mother had given me when I was a little boy, said out loud, honored and revered. I paused to catch my breath before shaking my head and trying to pretend that I was fine.

“Penn?” There it was again! My name! I couldn’t help smiling at the sound of it. “You, uh, wanna hand me those boxers so I can wash them?” Oh. I’d completely forgotten about that. “Hey, nothing to be embarrassed about. Its okay. It wasn’t your fault. I’m certainly not holding it against you, you poor abused little thing….” She was only making it worse. I did as I was told, all while avoiding her eyes. She disappeared for a moment before returning, crouching back down as she had before. My breathing had at least calmed down by the time she returned.

“Tomorrow I’ll take you to pick out some clothes, how does that sound?” I’d have something to wear? It was certainly more than I expected. I was grateful.

“Thank you… thank you, ma’am.. er…” Fuck! She’d told me not do that. I searched her eyes and watched her hands carefully. Would she punish me for that mistake?

She seemed to think my terrified reaction was funny, as she laughed, “It’s okay. It’ll be hard to get used to at first.” Her fingers did approach me, but I quickly realized they were there to caress me along my spine.

After a moment of this, as I tried to relax, she spoke again, “I’m so glad I found you tonight… You sure are a cute little fella…” My face stung. Was I going to be okay here? Or would she treat me like an object just like everyone else? And for that matter, was she even planning to keep me? She had immediately tried to return me. Maybe she had no interest in keeping me at all. Maybe she didn’t want the responsibility. Did that mean she’d give me away to a friend or relative? Would she simply turn me out of doors to fend for myself? Or would I, once again, end up in a rescue center, whiling away my days in a metal cage, unable to avoid the ear piercing sounds of dogs barking and cats howling along the prison-like hallways, consigned to an existence of restless boredom and a never ending cacophony of noise that threatened to drive me insane?

“So…” I practically choked on the words.

“Go ahead…”

“So… you’re going to keep me?” I was scared to look at her expression. I stared at my own toes instead.

“Of course, little one. You got me to rescue you, now you’re stuck with me. You’re not going anywhere if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Oh thank god. I breathed a huge sigh of relief. That sigh turned, reflexively, into a yawn. I felt half dead from all the shit I’d been through this night. My body desperately needed to sleep.

“Oh! I saw that little yawn! Yeah, I think you’re right…. It’s sleepy time…. Poor little fella, poor, sleepy, little Penn… come here, come help me make your bed…” She was babying me, sure, but it was like water in a desert to me. She was kind, she was thoughtful and she was doing her best to take care of me. I was becoming less and less afraid of her. Maybe her warm tone was genuine after all. She grabbed my torso between two fingers and lifted me into the air. I was nude but I was so tuckered out I didn’t have the energy to protest. I just wanted to be put to bed. Her grip on me, however, did make me writhe in pain. She’d managed to press into fresh wounds from earlier in the night. “I’m sorry, little man! You okay?” Struggling to breathe, I nodded. She set me down on my hands and knees in the flat of her hand. I gripped her pinky and the flesh of her pointer finger for balance as she took steps towards the closet. She let me pick out my own blanket. She probably could never understand it, but something as simple as getting a choice in what I slept in was a luxury few pets afforded their whole lives, myself included. I was grateful for that gesture.

Soon, I was settled into bed. She crouched before me, eyes sparkling with delight, like a small child wishing her favorite doll a good night and sweet dreams, “Get some rest, little one. You’ve been through so much. Sleep in as long as you like. I promise you’re going to like being here so much more than… well, you know. Sweet dreams, Penn.” she leaned in and kissed my hair. I only jumped a little as she first came towards me. As she pulled away, my heart suddenly skipped a beat. For some very odd reason, I didn’t want her to go.

After everything that had happened, and praying with all my might to be left alone, now that I was faced with solitude, I didn’t want it. I was starting to not hate the warmth of her fingers or the feeling of her lips pressed against my head. They could actually be almost comforting after I pushed past my habitual fear. I wished I could ask her to stay. Or to take me with her. But I didn’t know how. And what if I ended up regretting it? I thought better of it and shut myself up before I had a chance to ruin everything.

And just like that, I was left all alone in the dark.

[thebrochtuarachs]

All That Was Good 

A/N: One of my many versions of "What if Jamie and Claire both passed through the stones before Culloden?" stories. This came about just this weekend and my brain would not stop until I wrote it down and shared it with you all. I know the 20-year separation of Jamie and Claire is one of the most used plots in the Outlander-verse (I, for one, am all for it) so here's my wee contribution to it! I'm bad at summaries but hope you like this wee one! As always, your comments and suggestions are very much welcome.

AO3

xxxxx

This cannot be it.

As their hands moved closer together to touch the stone, Claire’s heart was feeling a million emotions but her mind was clear with just one thing - Jamie.

This cannot be it.

In the three years they’ve been together, neither of them could’ve known just how much they’d mean to each other, depend on each other, care for each other, let alone, love each other - so deeply and passionately that they were willing to change history if it came to that.

This cannot be it.

“Goodbye, Claire” she felt his breath and lips in her temple as he pulled her closer to him by the waist, desperately trying to keep themselves together for as long as they could and engrain the memory of their bodies molded as one. And in the middle, was the miracle they prayed and hoped for who will never know his father and grow up with a family he deserved.

This cannot be it.

Her fingers can almost feel the roughness of the stone surface and the journey that will follow after. She wanted to turn her head and see his face one last time, beg him to release her from her promise and let her stay in this time. But time was running out. In the last seconds, Claire made her wish known again and again.

Me. Jamie. Our Baby. Our Family. Anywhere. Anytime. Together.

Me. Jamie. Our Baby. Our Family. Anywhere. Anytime. Together.

Me. Jamie. Our Baby. Our Family. Anywhere. Anytime. Together.

Claire expected the deafening buzz that usually came with the stones - but what was new was the blinding light that suddenly seemed to emit from it. She wondered if Jamie could see it since he couldn’t hear the buzz and she  got her confirmation when she heard Jamie exclaim a “What in the devil..?!” just before everything went black.

----

The journey to the stones is never easy. It feels like you're being taken apart and then weaved back together. It really takes a toll to the body.

Claire stirred to someone stroking her hair. Once her mind was a little bit more awake, she took a mental stock of herself. She felt whole, alive, and for some reason, she was sitting in some armchair with her head laid down on the table.

She slowly opened her eyes, cautious just in case she got affected somehow by the last light she saw and to prepare herself to know the aftermath of this trip.

“Thank Christ!” was the first sound she heard. “Are ye alright?"

Her mind raced, she needed to respond. In another effort to finally face her reality, she lifted her, fully opened her eyes and saw the two most worried ocean eyes boring straight into hers.

Her eyes widened at the sight before her. Impossible.

“Ja - Jamie?” she softly called out, a hand unsure to touch his face.

“Aye, tis me, Claire. Do ye remember me? I was afraid you wouldn’t recognize me” he replied.

“Jamie, oh my god!” her dizziness forgotten, she quickly stood up as Jamie did too and they held each other so tightly she was sure she couldn’t breath.

She pulled away and started inspecting every part of him she could. “Are you alright? What happened?!”

“I don’t know. All I remember was I brought ye to the stones, we we’re about to touch it when a light beamed through. Next thing I knew, I woke up leaning by that shelf, wearing this clothes, and saw you passed out here.”  Jamie shared.

“So you did see the light too! I haven’t experienced or seen that before so I thought it could’ve been just for me but...here you are.”

“Here I am” he said simply.

As their dizziness wore off and their mind became more rational, they needed to investigate fast on where and when they were.

Claire was wearing a white sleeveless shirtwaist dress, almost similar to the one she was wearing the first time she went through the stones, while Jamie was wearing a navy blue knitted shirt tucked in light brown fitted trousers.

They were definitely not in the 1740s anymore.

They were in an old scottish cottage, though obviously renovated and restored, with most of the items inside looking museum grade. A sign hanged up wrote “Old Leanach Cottage” and below it in smaller letters were the words “Culloden Moor” .

They were at Culloden.

Lastly, together they gravitated towards a notebook, a visitor log, and found that the year was 1948.

They were in Claire’s time.

Stunned and a little bit confused, Jamie and Claire looked at each other as the shock passed through them.

Impossible, indeed.

Claire and Jamie had more questions than answers and the place they currently were seemed different that what Claire was used to so both of them are pretty much out of place until they knew more about their present lives.

“Whatever this is, whatever has happened” Jamie’s firm voice broke the ice. “We’ll figure it out together.”

“Okay.” Claire replied. The unknowns were endless but with the strength of having Jamie by her side, there was nothing much to fear. “Of course” Claire nodded surely and then leaned her face to Jamie’s for a single deep kiss.

There’s always something that stirs between them whenever they kiss and they both smile at the fact that that feeling hasn’t gone away. Whatever they need it to be, it will be that. And right now, this kiss was a kiss of love, gratitude, comfort, and security.

Just as they were to pull away, they heard voices outside the cottage call for them.

“Jamie, Clare, are you guys finished?” a man’s voice asked.

Surprised by the interaction, Jamie’s first action was to protect Claire. His hands automatically reached out to his side where his sgian dubh always reside but he grasped for nothing in the air. Another reminder that they were in a different time.

“Jamie, those voices…”

“D’ye know them, Sassenach?”

Claire shook her head. Her mind was swirling - the voices we’re so familiar, she was sure she knew them - but she couldn’t put a name or a face.

“Come on, you two! Chop, chop! We still have a 3-hour ride ahead of us.” a woman’s voice followed.

“Should we just head out and see?” she asked. Jamie shrugged in agreement, took Claire’s hand, and led them out of the cottage.

Nothing could’ve prepared either of them for what was to happen next. They were both frozen in place as a couple turned around and in front of them is Henry and Julia Beauchamp.

“There you are!” Julie exclaimed. “What took you so long? We thought you’re only signing the visitor’s log book”. She noticed their confused looks, and slowly reached out a hand. “Are you guys...okay?”

Without another thought, Claire gravitated towards her parents and pulled her mother to a tight embrace and cried.

“Mama” Claire said softly.

“You haven’t called me that in a long time” Julie replied, hugging her daughter back. She pulled her daughter back when she felt a wetness in her shoulder. “Why are you crying?”

Claire didn’t reply but went to her dad and hugged him just as tight.  “While I do love this,” Henry began, “I’m not sure what’s going on.” He patted her back, “Claire?”

“I’m sorry, I…” Claire started to think of an explanation while wiping her eyes and fixing herself up. “I just missed you so much”

There was so much more she wanted to say, just in case this was all a dream, but her last words summarized what was at the core of it all.

“I know, we missed you guys too. It’s been almost a month since we got together and this is a little overdue. Do you think you can make it back the car, though? I really don’t want to miss lunch.” Henry teased.

“Let’s go! I don’t want to be late. You know how strict Brian and Ellen are with the lunch schedule. Last time we missed it, there were hardly any food left.” Julia followed.

It was Jamie’s turn to feel more disbelief. “I’m sorry, what?” He didn’t know how we found his voice but, at the moment, his mind had  life of its on and the words came flying out.

“What do you mean ‘what’? We’re on our way to see your parents at Lallybroch, James.”

[let-the-dream-begin]

A Family of Our Own: Chapter 2

Chapter 1

Read on AO3

May, 1754

Claire was in her garden with Maggie. Brianna and Kitty were supposed to be helping as well, but they were a bit preoccupied chasing chickens and making the dogs bark their heads off.

“I don’t want to hear it if either of you get bitten!” Claire called over her shoulder.

“We won’t, Mummy!” Brianna said, exasperated.

Claire turned back to face Maggie again, and the girl shook her head.

“Ye canna stop them,” she said. “No’ until it’s too late.”

“You’re too right.”

Claire was just about to demonstrate something for Maggie when the sound of a horse’s hooves caught her ear.

“Girls! Get the dogs inside!” They obeyed, turning it into another game of sorts to corral the beasts. She didn’t want the dogs spooking the horse and throwing whoever the rider was to the ground. It was midday, and they weren’t expecting any visitors. Claire squinted down the road, wiping her hands free of dirt on her apron, her throat clenching on instinct at the sight of a flash of red. Her nerves settled however, when she remembered.

Once a quarter.

Apparently it was time for Jamie’s first visit from Lord John Grey.

“Who is it, then?” Jenny appeared on the porch, flanked by the girls, including Janet this time, all having realized that getting the dogs inside could only mean a visitor on horseback.

“It’s Lord Grey,” Claire said, returning to Maggie’s side.

“Lord ha’ mercy,” Jenny breathed. “Inside, girls. Now.”

“He won’t hurt anybody,” Claire said, furrowing her brow. “There’s no need to worry. Jamie trusts him.”

“That makes one of us,” Jenny said, her jaw hard, and her eyes fierce. “Inside,” she said again, and Maggie trudged past Claire to obey her mother.

“Wait, Brianna,” Claire called, stopping her from joining the throng.

“Are ye mad, sister?”

“I want her to meet him,” Claire said lightly. “It’s about time she meets a respectable Englishman,” she reasoned, with no little disdain directed at the assortments of horrible Englishmen they’d been harassed by over the years. “Besides, he’s a friend of her father.”

“Respectable and English dinna belong in the same sentence,” Jenny grumbled, ushering the girls inside.

“Should I take offense to that?” Claire said testily, putting one hand on her hip and the other on Brianna’s shoulder.

“I’ll let ye know in a bit.” She gestured with her chin, and Claire turned around to see the horse crossing the threshold of the archway. She was surprised by his appearance; she didn’t know why. Perhaps it was because he bore little to no resemblance to the scrawny young lad from all those years ago. His face was kind and gentle; his eyes held both quiet mirth and an impenetrable sadness. He was slender but still finely muscled, the makings of a good soldier.

“Good day, Madame,” he said, slowing his horse to a stop. “Is this Broch Tuarach?”

“That it is,” Claire answered.

The man paused for a moment, blinking back something that was seemingly shock, his lips parting silently, then closing. “Well,” he said, awed. “I do believe I’m in the presence of the Englishwoman I’ve heard so very much about.”

He dismounted, keeping hold on the reins. He bowed lowly, bringing his tricorn hat to his chest, maintaining eye contact all the while. “Lord John Grey,” he said. “I am entirely at your service, Ma’am.”

“Claire Fraser,” she answered, curtsying, keeping one hand on Brianna’s shoulder. “And I do believe it is I who is at your service, my Lord. You’re the reason I’m no longer a widow, after all.”

He smiled, almost seeming uncomfortable as he put his hat back in place. “Yes, well, it was the least I could do,” he said. “And this is?”

“Brianna Fraser,” Claire said proudly, nudging the girl a bit so that she’d curtsy. “My daughter. Jamie’s daughter.”

“My God,” John breathed, his eyes wide with wonder. “No wonder she’s his spitting image. He never mentioned…”

“He never knew,” Claire said sadly. “I wasn’t showing until after Culloden. She was quite the surprise.” Claire gripped both of Brianna’s shoulders.

“Indeed,” John said. “Well, Mistress Fraser, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“The pleasure is all mine,” Brianna answered, her normally hybrid speech entirely posh, her nose stuck in the air. Claire briefly contemplated that perhaps her daughter was mocking John’s Englishness, but she quickly dismissed the thought.

“She doesn’t have the burr, then?” John said, amused.

“She has whatever she wants in the moment,” Claire said with a chuckle. “She’s quite the impressionist. Isn’t that right, darling?”

“Indeed, Mother,” she said in the same tone, staring John down, or up, rather.

Both of the adults chuckled, perhaps a bit uncomfortably.

“This is one of Da’s dearest friends, Brianna,” Claire said cheerily, squeezing her shoulders and looking down at her. “He’s the reason that he came home to us. I’d like it if we were all friends. Wouldn’t you?”

“I should indeed love to make the acquaintance of one of the King’s finest,” Brianna said rather obnoxiously, drawling the vowels like a veritable fop. “Even if he’s a bloody Redcoat,” she added, not skipping a beat, her accent remaining perfect.

“Brianna — !”

“John!”

Before Claire could scold her daughter’s behavior, Jamie came running from the side of the house, trailed closely by Rabbie, likely along to take care of John’s horse. John smiled uncomfortably at Claire before turning to greet Jamie as he quickly approached. Claire was rather shameless in how she admired her husband, glistening as he was with sweat from a long day in the fields, curls damp and wild, shirt slightly stained at the collar and clinging to him despite its loose fitting, exposing the overworked muscles beneath. She had to remind herself there was company, including that of their small daughter.

Dragging her eyes off of her husband’s beautifully made body, she immediately noticed she was not the only one aware of said beauty.

John immediately changed when Jamie came into view, in ways that Claire could not exactly put her finger on. He seemed lighter, as if being fed for the first time after months of starvation.

Christ...this isn’t attraction.

This man is in love with my husband.

“Christ, man, it’s good to see ye,” Jamie said enthusiastically, shaking John’s hand with fervor. “Ye’ve met her then? Ye met my wife? And my child?”

Any insecurity that had just seized Claire’s heart upon her realization melted away, and she strode contentedly to meet Jamie, pulling Brianna along by the hand. She smiled, standing at Jamie’s side and settling herself into him, warming to her core as Jamie draped an arm over her shoulder. She reveled in the smell of him; dirt, manure, sweat, and Jamie, his general masculinity.

“Yes, I’ve had the pleasure,” John said, smiling more genuinely at Claire. “Beautiful, both of them.”

“Thank ye, a charaid.” Jamie was warm against her, flushing with pride. “Can ye imagine? I had a bairn all those years and I hadnae a single clue.”

“I can’t imagine,” John said. “You must have been overjoyed.”

“Aye.” Jamie looked down at me, catching my eye sweetly, then winked down at Brianna. “She is...they both are my greatest joys.”

“It does my heart good to see you so happy, Jamie,” John’s voice became soft and light, his eyes glistening. “To have seen you through such pain, then to see you like this…” He stopped himself, seemingly overcome. Claire threaded her arm around Jamie, grasping at his side. “It’s overwhelming.”

“It is,” Jamie agreed. “There are still days I canna believe it’s true. I’m overwhelmed near every day at my luck. And it’s because of you, John. You are the reason I’ve got them back.”

He grasped John’s hand, tightly. Claire felt herself go flush, and she tightened her grip on Jamie’s side despite herself.

“I’d do it again and again, Jamie, no matter the risk.”

Their hands remained clasped together, and they maintained eye contact, and Claire suddenly felt like an unwelcome voyeur to something she did not fully understand.

He told me nothing happened. He told me nothing happened. He—

“Mummy,” Brianna piped, still not dropping her put-on airs. “I would quite enjoy something to eat.”

“Christ, a nighean, why’re ye speaking like yer mother?” Jamie wrinkled his nose down at Brianna, finally releasing John’s hand.

Brianna shot a look at John, her nostrils flared. “I’m hungry.”

“Alright, lovie. Go inside and ask Mary MacNab for something from the kitchen. We’ll be in.”

Claire briefly brushed a few curls away from Brianna’s face before the girl scampered inside, apparently all too eager to get away.

“I’m sorry…” Claire said once Brianna was inside. “She’s not normally so rude.”

“She was rude?” Jamie furrowed his brow.

“Before you got here, she called him a bloody Redcoat.”

Jamie snorted, then smiled crookedly at John. “Well, she isna wrong.”

Claire pinched Jamie’s side, causing him to jerk a bit.

“She also was most certainly mocking his speech,” Claire said. “She does that sometimes, impersonates the Redcoats that come by. To make her cousins laugh. I suppose she thought she’d try doing it to your face since she knows you’re a friend.”

“Yes, well,” John dipped his head a bit, clasping his hands behind his back. “I can’t say I blame her. I’ve heard brutal things.”

“Aye. My family suffered many an indignity in my absence at the hand of some Redcoat or another,” Jamie said, tightening his grip on Claire. “My brother-in-law told me Claire was beaten.”

“Oh, Jamie,” Claire said. “I wish he hadn’t…”

“No, I’m glad he did. Because if he ever returned — ”

“I know Lord John is a friend,” Claire interrupted quickly. “But perhaps it’s best either way to...refrain. From what you’re about to say. Or anything similar.”

Jamie nodded, tight-lipped. “Aye. Well, ye get the idea. The wean’s trust has been broken. Hers and the rest of my family, unfortunately. My sister is none too pleased ye’re here.”

“Brianna has had to lie to protect me, us, all her life,” Claire said softly. “She saw me bruised and bloodied after that beating. She’s...she’s only eight. Back then she was only six. It’s...difficult to conceptualize a ‘good Redcoat’. For everyone, not just her.”

“I understand,” John said. “Believe me, I do. The last thing I want is to make anybody uncomfortable. I’ll just fill out the report and be on my way.”

“Ye mean just leave?” Jamie said, incredulous. “I’ll no’ have that. Ye’ve been traveling fer days, no doubt, no’ a home-cooked meal in sight.”

“Well, yes — ”

“And beds at an inn arena so comfortable, I ken it well.”

“Stay the night?” Claire said, perhaps a little too abruptly. “Do you think that’s the best idea? You know...Jenny?” she added quickly.

Not because I’m threatened...because of Jenny.

“Jenny can hang,” Jamie said, genially. “This man sacrificed his own safety to see me home. Right this minute he’s putting himself in danger, knowing as he does I’m no Mister Malcolm. The least we can do fer him is give him some leisure, good food, and a warm bed. Fer one night.”

Claire sighed. “Alright. But you are talking to Jenny.”

John chuckled, oblivious as to just how much he should fear Janet Fraser Murray.

“Speaking of Mister Malcolm, should I mention a Mistress Malcolm in my report?” John asked.

“Well...the other officers who’ve come by know me as a Fraser cousin, and a Scot at that,” Claire said uneasily. “Elizabeth Fraser.”

“I suppose I could say Mister Malcolm was made a widower during his time in prison, and that he’s remarried to the previously unmarried Fraser cousin. Would that make it easier for you both to live your lives together?”

Jamie and Claire exchanged a look. “What d’ye think, mo ghraidh? Any interest in being Mrs. Malcolm?”

She hummed an amused laugh. “It would be an honor.”

He leaned in to kiss her sweetly, and Claire was so swept up in the moment, she nearly forgot John was standing right in front of them.

“I thank ye, John,” Jamie said warmly.

“We thank you,” Claire corrected, smiling at John while embracing Jamie, “my friend.”

“It is a privilege to be known as such by such a woman,” John said with a small bow of his head.

“Shall I show ye around the grounds, then?” Jamie said, excited. “The lads are in the fields waiting fer me to return, but they can surely wait. Fergus can lead.”

“Fergus. Your son?” John said, as if recalling.

“Aye,” Jamie said, swelling with pride. “Ye’ll meet him at supper.”

Claire nearly offered to show John around herself so that Jamie may get back to work, but she knew that he was proud of his ancestral home and that he would find great joy in showing his friend all there was to see.

But she was too curious to pass up the opportunity to be alone with John for a few minutes.

“Why don’t you tell the lads you won’t be back so they’re not waiting for you? The last thing we need is Jenny’s wrath that productivity was slowed for all this,” Claire said.

“Aye, ye’re right.”

“We’ll wait for you in the stables, I’ll show him the stock.”

Jamie made a Scottish noise of approval, squeezing Claire to him and kissing her temple before darting off to the fields.

“Shall we?”

Claire looked up to see that John was offering her his arm. She curtsied slightly before accepting, fitting her arm in the crook of his elbow before heading off around the house and toward the stables.

“You have no idea how often he spoke of you,” John said, seemingly out of nowhere. “He loves you dearly.”

“I know,” Claire said. “I can assure you it is equally returned. Believing him dead was...nothing short of horrific. For eight years.”

“I am sorry,” John said, sincerely. “If there were a way to get word to you safely…”

“Please, don’t. You’ve risked yourself enough as it is.” Claire gave his arm a squeeze, offering him a reassuring smile.

A small silence passed between them, nothing to be heard but the bleating of the goats, the clucking of the chickens, and the leaves rustling around them.

“You love him,” Claire said.

John stiffened against her, nearly stopping in his tracks. “No, I hardly know what — ”

“It wasn’t a question,” Claire said, strengthening her resolve a bit, hardening her jaw. “Jamie told me of your predilections.”

He made to pull away, panicked. “Madame, I — ”

“It’s alright, my Lord.” Claire tightened her grip, not letting him get away. “Where I come from...such things are not so taboo.”

He gawked at her. “I’d certainly like to know where that is.”

“It’s...hard to explain,” Claire said wistfully.

John cleared his throat. “How...how much did he tell you?”

“He told me of your friend that you lost. Which…I am sorry for that loss.”

“Thank you,” he said, his voice tight.

“And he told me how you...looked at him. And now that you’re here...I see it.” Claire looked away, staring ahead at the stables as they came into closer view. “You look at him the way he looks at me.”

“I…” John sighed. “I don’t know what to say.”

“I’m not sure either.” Claire kept her gaze ahead, uncomfortably aware of their closeness. “In a way, selfishly...I’m glad you love him so much. Because that’s what brought him back to me. But it’s...cruel, isn’t it?”

“How is that?”

“Because he...he’s not…” Claire almost stopped, as John nearly had before. “He isn’t. Is he?”

John chuckled softly, smiling sadly. “There were a few times where I thought perhaps he might be. But his heart belongs to only one.”

Claire could feel his eyes on her, so she turned her head, making uncomfortable eye contact. “So you really never…”

“No, Madame, I did not. We did not.” He did stop then, looking at her seriously. “I’d never met you, of course, but I’d not be able to live with myself if I was part of betraying you.” He started walking again, his more serious point made. “I confess I hardly even had the desire, knowing as I did how madly he loves you.”

“Hardly?” Claire’s brow furrowed.

“Well…” She could feel the heat from his blush radiating off of him. “I couldn’t say never. That would be a lie. And I do pride myself on my honesty.” His words were clipped and terse; Claire almost regretted bringing it up. “You could say the mind was willing, but the flesh was weak. In a way.”

Claire nodded slowly, staring ahead again. “If it...weren’t for me. Would you have?”

She felt him stiffen again. “No. It would be an abuse of my power over him. Such a thing would be despicable.”

Despite his discomfort, Claire could hear the genuineness in his voice. It was a comfort to know, but that still wasn’t what she meant.

“What if...that wasn’t an issue?” she pressed further. “Would you have?”

She heard him swallow. “Well...yes. I’d have tried.”

Claire nodded. “Would he…?”

“You know him better than I do,” John said, not a hint of malice. He meant it.

“I’m...I’m not so sure about that,” Claire said, sounding more sad than she’d meant to. “I just mean it’s...it’s been eight years. A lot of things can change in that time. People change.”

“While that may be true, Madame Fraser, one thing has not changed,” he stopped again, turning to face her, taking both of her hands in his, “and that is the love he bears you. That I can assure you.”

Claire forced a smile, gratefully squeezing his hand.

“God, you are a dreadfully forward woman,” he said, chuckling.

“I’ve always been terribly honest,” she said sheepishly.

“While frightening, I don’t find that necessarily a detriment,” he said lightly. He offered his arm again, and she took it much less hesitantly, leading the rest of the way to the stables.

“Do you know that I bear you no ill will?” John said rather suddenly. “I realize how shallow of a promise that may seem, given that you have everything I’ve ever wanted and could never have. But it’s true.” Claire felt shame burning in her core to think of her initial reaction to the depth of John’s feelings. “Do you know what I said to Jamie after he was freed?”

“Cherish that wife of yours, Fraser,” Claire quoted fondly. “He told me.”

“Did he tell you why I said it?”

“No?”

“He asked me what he could do to repay me,” John said.

Claire felt an unexpected rush of tears, suddenly overcome with something resembling pity, mixed with immense gratitude. She squeezed his arm and looked at him.

“Thank you, my Lord.”

“John,” he corrected lightly. “Please.”

“Then I’m Claire,” she echoed, “John.”

“Alright, Claire.”

They finally reached the stables, and Claire took the initiative to introduce him to all of the horses. Rabbie was in a stall with John’s horse, still brushing the beast down as he gnawed on his hay. John was absolutely tickled when Claire introduced Alastair as Brianna’s horse.

“Takes after her father, then?”

“Quite. She’d been begging me to ride since she could talk. I delayed it for years because of her condition.”

“Condition?” John’s brow furrowed, concerned.

“Oh, she’s perfectly healthy. Just...leftover complications from a difficult birth. If she fell it could kill her. I’m just...paranoid.”

“I see,” John said, though he still seemed concerned. “Does Jamie know?”

“Do I know what?” Jamie appeared in the doorway of the stables.

“Brianna’s condition,” Claire said, welcoming Jamie back into her arms.

“Oh, aye, I ken all about that,” Jamie said. “She’s a fighter, my daughter. Braw wee thing.”

“I can tell,” John said, smiling knowingly.

“Alright,” Jamie said, taking the place that John had just had, settling Claire’s arm in the crook of his elbow. “Ye’re acquainted wi’ the beasts, aye? Shall we move on to the rest of the land?”

Claire and John exchanged a fond look before both looking up at Jamie.

“We shall,” John said.

[tpwkjerii]

a ghost’s melody

searching for a quiet place to study, you stumble across a seemingly abandoned library and recital hall. when you discover that you’re not as alone in there as you thought and begin to fall for the mysterious boy playing the piano, you start to wish you believed in ghosts before.

pairing: ghost!pianist!taehyung x reader

warnings: character death (not main, except for tae who’s already a ghost lol), slight angst, some cursing, kinda heated makeout session, sfw (PG-13)!

genre: fluff, slight angst

word count: 4.3k+

listen to: claire de lune and adagio for strings

a/n: first fanfic on here lol i hope it isn’t trash & pls enjoy loves!! xx

Kim’s Library and Recital Hall

At least that’s what you thought was written on the battered storefront. The building’s exterior was aged — the faded letters were peeling, the glass windows were dusty with years of negligence, the copper door handle was rusted from the elements, and the black-painted wood was chipping at the corners.

The store was a perfect match amongst the other ones along the deserted street. It was so ordinarily fitting that anyone could have easily passed it. However, it happened to be exactly what you were looking for — a quiet place to study and somewhere to potentially spend the night since your roommate decided to let you know at the last minute that her and her boyfriend would be in your shared dorm for the night.

With a small shrug, you moved towards the door and attempted to push it open. After a fourth push (that was more tiring than you’d like to admit), the old door finally creaked open. Surprisingly, dust didn’t meet your eyes as you thought it would, and with a brief inspection of the interior, you noticed that it was oddly clean — a stark contrast from its outer appearance. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think that someone was diligently taking care of this place.

Paying it no mind, you moved further into the old store, basking in the silence and mildly soothing aura. The music-themed decorations and portraits of deceased musicians reminded you of your brother, and the quietness was a peaceful contrast from your hectic dorm (and, somehow, your campus library).

Before choosing a desk to work on, you checked your phone for the time.

4:37 PM

Nice, you thought. You should be able to get a few hours of work in while the sun is still up. Hopefully this place still has electricity or candles laying around. You sat down at a large wooden desk close to the storefront and pulled out your textbooks and papers, slowly beginning your studying.

You studied your notes in pure silence for 15 minutes when you heard a noise, but it was too quiet for you to distinctly make out what it was. It sounded like a scuffle, almost as if someone was walking but stopped abruptly. You turned and looked around carefully — maybe this place wasn’t as abandoned as you thought.

After looking around for a few moments and not noticing anything else, you returned to your books, although you paid much more attention to the pepper spray sitting in the pocket of your bag. Once twenty minutes passed, you slightly relaxed and hoped it was just a rodent. With a heavy sigh, you stood up from the desk and stretched, figuring that you could take a break and walk around.

With your phone in hand (and pepper spray in the other), you walked away from the desk and into a random aisle of books. You explored the various titles, noting that you hardly recognized any of them. It didn’t take long for you to realize this store was probably much older than you thought, considering that the most recent titles and portraits were from the late 1800s.

As you explored more aisles, you kept thinking of your brother and how much he would love this place you found. Yoongi always loved music and he never failed to humbly show off his natural talent at it. He once tried to teach you how to play the piano; unfortunately, you were too impatient and annoyed that you didn’t get it right away to ever succeed.

You were wrapped in your thoughts as you aimlessly walked around, now only thinking about how you would love to show your older brother this place. Suddenly, you found yourself at the entrance of a hall, and you stare in awe at the large grand piano sitting at the end. Despite its old age, it looked incredibly taken care of. The black paint was flawless and shined in the low sunlight, not a single chip in sight, and the ivory keys glimmered. You were about to walk towards the enchanting instrument when you heard the floor creak.

You froze in your tracks. That creak did not sound like a mouse, and you definitely didn’t hear anyone else enter this place after you. You tore your gaze away from the piano and turned around, your hand gripping your pepper spray. Weaving through bookshelves towards the table with your belongings, you cautiously looked for the source of the noise. But just as you turn the corner, you hear a gentle melody ring through the air.

Usually, this is the time where you would run. Or, if you were the character in a horror movie, the audience would be screaming at you to leave the store to avoid a tragic death.

But you didn’t want to run. Not because you found potential death exciting or because you wanted to piss off your imaginary viewers. But because the melody that was playing was the same one your brother spent months playing over and over again to perfect. It became so familiar to you in your home that you always associated it with him.

With a rapidly beating heart, you all but ran back to the empty recital hall. The volume increased as you neared the hall, and you held your breath as you finally approached the open doors.

“Yoon-” your whisper was caught in your throat as you made eye contact with a ghostly man. His face was devoid of any emotion, eyebags dark and defined, skin tone ghostly pallor, and eyes sullen and tainted with agony. Yet, he was beautiful. He had round feline eyes, defined jaw and cheekbones, full lips, and dark hair that fell elegantly on his forehead.

You waited as he continued playing the piece, knowing exactly when the end approached due to months of listening to it courtesy of your older brother. As the mystery man hit the last note, he looked back up at you, shock evident in his features.

“You’re still here?” he asked, his deep voice throwing you off guard.

“Y-yes, I am,” you started, finding yourself extremely nervous in his presence. You awkwardly shuffled your feet as you rambled, “I’m so sorry for intruding. I thought this place was completely abandoned, and I had no idea you were here. I’ll get going, so sorry again.”

With that, you turned to run back to your bag and get out. But he moved and grabbed your wrist at an unnaturally fast pace, and you gasped at how cold his fingers were on your warm skin. Goosebumps prickled along your arm as you looked up at him in shock and confusion.

He let go of you with a sheepish apology. “It’s just… it’s been a while since anyone has come by. You don’t have to leave,” he said, hastily adding, “unless you want to, of course! I cannot force you to stay if you do not wish to.”

A soft smile spread at your lips. This man was not nearly as cold as he looked or felt. His emotionless eyes seemed hopeful and his mouth was fixed in a boxy smile. With hope that this was fate of some sort, you told him, “I would love to stay.”

“What’s your name?”

“Me?” the ghostly man pointed to himself, oddly shocked at the question.

You nodded, adding with a small laugh, “I don’t see anyone else here who could answer my question.”

He breathed out a laugh as he answered, “Taehyung. And you?”

“Y/N. It’s very nice to meet you, Taehyung.”

He grinned at the way you said his name, and continued, “What brings you here, Y/N?”

“Ah,” you nodded and propped your arms up on the table you two were sitting at. “Noisy dorm halls, librarians who don’t care about enforcing quiet rules, and a horny roommate. You?”

His smile grew at your brutally honest answer. He hesitated as he answered, “I live here. I take care of everything.” It wasn’t a complete lie.

Your mouth parted. “Are you Kim Taehyung. As in a Kim of Kim’s Library and Recital Hall?” you joked, relieved that he found your reference amusing.

“Yes, I am Kim Taehyung. I’m relieved you find that interesting,” he responded. You grinned at the way he answered, his tone and diction captivatingly formal.

“Well, you’ve done an excellent job maintaining the interior. The outside though… that could use a bit of help,” you admitted honestly, to which he laughed heartily at. “Do you get much business?” you asked cautiously after he stopped laughing.

He shrugged, the same boxy smile still on his face. “Not much, but it’s alright. The silence is peaceful.”

You nodded thoughtfully, sensing there was more to his answer but deciding not to push it. “It is very peaceful here, and if you ever need some help around here, I’ve got more free time than I’d like to admit.”

Taehyung laughed again, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “I’ll consider it,” he responded genuinely, his voice growing softer for a second. “I’ll have to warn that working here isn’t as great as it may seem. It’s quite boring.”

“Pfft,” you shook your head, “boring? With the piano skills you have? I could spend all day listening to you play while I dust or shit like that.”

He basked in your ability to speak freely and jokingly with him, and at that moment he gathered the courage to ask the question that was lingering on his mind ever since you made eye contact with him.

“Why didn’t you run away when you first saw me?”

Your gaze faltered for a second, but a small smile returned to your face as you answered honestly, “I was going to run, but the piece you were playing reminded me of my brother Yoongi.”

A brief flash of shock passed on his face, luckily unnoticed by you as you continued your story.

“He used to play it so much, and it felt like fate to hear it again in this place,” you paused, looking back up at Taehyung with a sheepish smile and glassy eyes. “You see, as I walked around, I kept on thinking of how much Yoongi would love this place. Books and sheet music and portraits of musicians and silence. It’s just so so perfect for him. But, as much as I want to, I can never show him this place.”

“Why?”

“Yoongi died 3 years ago.”

[you]

goodnight yoongi. sleep well! i know you’ll do great at your performance tomorrow! mom and i will be waiting for you at the end !!

p.s. seokjin is invited to dinner next week ;)

[best/worst brother ever]

goodnight Y/N. thank you :]. treat me to some lamb skewers after?

p.s. you can text him yourself

[you]

of course, anything you want !!

sleep now, it’s already 3 am

p.s. why would i when i have you? :)

[best/worst brother ever]

ok, mom

[you]

>:(

When you turned your phone off to sleep that night, you didn’t realize that would be the last conversation you would ever have with your older brother.

The house was silent when you received the phone call.

Min Yoongi died in an accident on the way to the recital hall. A drunk driver hit his car, killing him and his friend and roommate, Kim Seokjin. The doctors did everything they could, but he suffered from too much blood loss...

You felt empty. Quiet tears escaped you as you sat in the passenger seat while your mother frantically drove to the hospital. The fresh bouquet of flowers you bought early in the morning to congratulate Yoongi on another performance well done was sitting in the backseat, the bright colors mocking your misery. Labored breaths left you as you ran to his hospital room, and you struggled to breathe when you saw his still body on the bed.

The doctor's solemn words drowned in the background as you fell to your knees. Your hands clutched Yoongi’s in hopes that he would reassuringly squeeze them again and wake up to say that it was just an elaborate prank. But he never did.

“I’m so sorry for your loss,” Taehyung whispered, offering a hand, which you gratefully took.

You shrugged, responding while wiping your wet eyes, “It’s ok. It was 3 years ago, and there’s really nothing to be sorry about. I’m not even sure why I told you.” You spoke honestly, which was odd since you barely knew Taehyung. For some reason, you felt as if you could trust him with anything.

“So what about you?” you asked after a few moments of silence. “Tell me about you. All about Kim Taehyung,” you finished with a gentle smile, your smaller hand still in his larger one.

“Well, I am 25 years old, a pianist as you saw, I grew up on my family’s farm before I moved to the city to study music with my uncle, and I eventually inherited the place we’re currently in,” he answered, his boxy smile growing as he told you more about himself.

“Wow,” you said, shocked at how much he told you despite knowing you for a short period of time. But you technically did the same.

“How did you like growing up on a farm?” you asked curiously, your hand unconsciously tightening your grip on his.

His eyes lit up as he replied, “It was peaceful. I loved the animals and spending time with my grandmother. The village was nice, too. My friends were always a few steps away,” he paused for a moment, “but when I started to play the piano that my uncle gifted me, I found my new passion: music.”

“So you eventually moved to the city to study music?”

He nodded excitedly in confirmation. “It was hard leaving my parents and grandmother,” he added. “But I tried to go back whenever I could.”

“It’s difficult leaving your family,” you agreed, unsure of what to say next. Luckily, Taehyung expertly carried the conversation.

“So Y/N, how old are you?” he asked, his boxy smile not fading for even a second.

You grinned and responded with the same tone he had earlier. “Well, I am 20 years old, I study Literature and Biology at the National University, I grew up in a city with my mom and older brother, and I found this place by complete chance.”

“You’re more interesting than I thought, Y/N,” Taehyung grinned. “And complete chance? What does that mean?”

“Well,” you started, “I was just thinking about how much I hated my roommate and dorm floor, and I somehow stumbled upon this completely deserted street. To be honest, I don’t even know where I am right now. Yet I’m still here talking to you, is that crazy or foolish of me?”

“No.” His left hand reached up to move a strand of hair away from your face. Your breath hitched and body froze as his cool fingers met your warm skin. “It’s not crazy or foolish at all,” he finished.

You melted under his haunting gaze, and you didn’t even notice how the sun had fallen outside and how the lights automatically flickered on.

Five hours.

Or at least it felt like five hours of you and Taehyung simply talking. At this point, you were really hoping he wasn’t planning on murdering you because you honestly have never met a guy this perfect. It seemed like he didn’t have a single flaw!

With each conversation and joking remark, you found yourself moving closer and closer to him until you two were thigh to thigh. Your denim jeans met the expensive material of his trousers, and both of your warm hands were covered by his much colder ones (something you chose to chalk down to iron deficiency or other potential medical conditions).

To merely say you were growing feelings for Taehyung would be an understatement — you were falling in love.

Eventually, he offered to show you around the store, considering you only really looked at the front. His hand around yours, he led you towards the back, where there were less bookshelves and more music-oriented displays. There were encased instruments, very old photos, worn sheet music, and more portraits.

“My uncle loved collecting portraits,” Taehyung said when he caught you staring at one of Jung Hoseok. “He said it was like always having a memory of someone, even if they passed.”

“Your uncle was right. Although I think pictures and a camera may be cheaper,” you teased, unaware of the slightly pained smile on his face. You looked around some more, and your smile fell as your eyes landed on a very familiar-looking portrait.

The curve of his lips, strong jawline, uneven eyelids, defined eyebrows — it was like you were looking directly at him. Your breath hitched as you looked at the inscription below the oil painting.

Kim Taehyung / 1877 - 1902

“Taehyung…” you called. He didn’t respond.

“Taehyung,” you called again, slowly turning around, your eyes meeting his panicked ones. “You… You’re …”

“Dead.”

“What do you mean you’re dead? You’re standing right here! But the portrait. Oh my god. Is this a dream? Have I been dreaming this entire thing? Ghosts aren’t real! Are you a demon? Oh fu -”

“Y/N!” he shouted, his arms wrapping around you to calm you down, his icy skin only further reminding you that a dead man was hugging you.

“You’re so cold! Oh fuck! You’re so cold! I’m so stupid!” you continued panicking, completely unaware of how to deal with this if it really wasn’t a dream.

“Can you please give me a chance to explain?” he asked, his low voice soothing you.

Begrudgingly, you nodded, and melted into his tight grip. It was hard to believe that he was a ghost when you were physically touching him, a complete contradiction of what online conspiracy theories and horror documentaries (and your biology lectures) told you.

“I didn’t lie about anything I told you. I was born in 1877 and I died in 1902. I was poisoned by another musician who grew jealous of my success. I chose to stay in the human realm as a ghost instead of pass on.”

You remained silent, needing a moment to think. Was he telling the truth? But Taehyung didn’t have a reason to lie to you, nor did he have a reason to be honest. And why was he so insistent on explaining himself? Did he have the same feelings as y —

“I’m telling the truth,” he said abruptly, sensing your inner turmoil. “I understand if you do not trust me. It would be hard for anyone living to trust me in this situation, but I want you to know that,” he paused, looking at you with such emotion that it made you want to reach out to him and take all the pain he was feeling away. “That I am being genuine because I care about you the way you care about me.”

You gasped quietly in shock.

“The last living person to enter this place was 60 years ago, and no one ever stayed,” he began sadly. “But then today, you,” he looked down to make eye contact with you, “you came in and you stayed and we talked for hours.”

As much as you wanted to comfort him, you still remained silent.

Taehyung continued, “Even when I was alive, I never encountered anyone who spoke as passionately as you, who was refreshingly honest, or who cared about what I said as much as you do. Y/N, I hope you understand that our time together today has meant the world to me, and I would never betray your trust or presence for anything in the world.

Your eyes teared up at his confession, and you barely managed to whisper, “Today meant a lot to me too.”

Taehyung let out a relieved breath and tightened his hold on you. “I may be a dead man but my feelings for you are true. I hope that you’ll accept me as I am and -”

“Tae-” you attempted to interrupt him, but he cut you off and only tightened the hug.

“And if you do not accept me, I understand,” he finished, his voice strained as he said the last two words.

“Taehyung,” you started, but he interrupted you again.

“Please, if you wish to leave do not say anything else. I fear that I might not be able to take it if you bless me with your voice and presence again just to leave soon after,” he pleaded, his hands gently holding you to his chest as you two still remained in a fond embrace.

“Taehyung,” you started again, feeling his chest tighten as you gently spoke, “Although this is all very hard for me to understand, I do accept you.” He breathed out a sigh of relief. “But,” you said sharply, and he winced at the word, “You need to explain everything for me to truly believe in you. How am I seeing you? How does this all work?”

Begrudgingly, Taehyung released the hug, and looked at you with a cheeky and fond smile. “How are you seeing me? Easy, as a ghost I can choose when I want to be seen,” he paused, “and when I don’t.” As he uttered the last word, his body disappeared in front of your eyes, and a surprised gasp fell from you.

“You! You! What the fuck!” staring as he reappeared, his body once again covering the wall behind him.

He laughed again at your shock, also finding your blunt language endearing. “It’s something all of us ghosts can do,” he said casually while you stood in shock. He continued, “I can also feel sensations like a human when I’m in this form.”

He stepped toward you again, leaving only a few centimeters between your bodies. “For example,” he started, grasping your warm hand and bringing it up to his cheek, “I can feel the warmth of your hands and how they feel on my skin.”

He dropped your hand and bent down, his beautiful face now directly in front of you. For a moment, you two only looked at each other, his strong eyes holding your curious gaze and his cool breath sending a shiver down your body. “And,” he finally said, “I can feel chills as your breath fans across my face.”

He stood fully up again, leaving you both relieved and disappointed. “I can also feel emotions just like I used to when I was alive, although I’m sure you already know that,” he told you, the boxy smile returning to his face. Your heart still recovering from the intense eye contact only a few moments prior, you could only muster a nod in response. “Would you like me to continue?” Taehyung asked.

“No,” you admitted, shocking him as he was ready to explain more.

“No?”

“I believe you, it’s difficult to, but I believe you,” you told him, your voice quiet as you looked up at him fondly. “This is all confusing as fuck, and I really don’t know what the future would look like for us but,” you pause briefly, watching as his smile grew to meet his eyes, “I have feelings for you, and I want to try and make this work.”

Taehyung grinned and wrapped you in a tight hug, the ice cold of his skin no longer sending an unnerving chill down you. He looked down and used his finger to lift your face to look at him. Wordlessly, he closed his eyes and leaned down.

Following his motions, your lips eventually met. Taehyung kissed you with gentle passion, his full lips molding perfectly against yours. His hands moved down to the small of your back, and he pulled you in tighter to deepen the kiss.

This was better than you expected. His cold lips set a fire within you, and the way he moved his lips against yours made you feel as if your chest was going to burst at any second. The moment his lips touched yours, and yours his, you knew that you could never feel anything like it again.

A moment of adrenaline seeped into you as you parted your lips, greedy for more. At this, electricity coursed through you and you felt as if a fire was ignited between you, and as Taehyung deepened the kiss the fire grew, nearly consuming you both whole.

Your lips moved in sync with his for what seemed like an eternity before he broke the kiss, leaving you breathless. He allowed you to catch your breath before he spoke, “I’ve wanted to do that ever since I saw you enter.”

“Why didn’t you?” you asked, a teasing tone evident in your words.

“It would be rude of me to walk up to a beautiful stranger and steal a kiss from them,” he answered, his hands moving to play with your fingers.

“I suppose it would be, but I wouldn’t have minded,” you admitted, making deep eye contact with him once again.

Taehyung smiled at your words, and he waited a moment before saying, “I know someone that I think you would be happy to see again. If you feel comfortable with me, I can take you to him.”

Your eyes widened, and at that moment, you could hear the same melody he was playing earlier coming from somewhere deeper in the hall. In that moment, you remember seeing the book that Yoongi had when he first learned the song, and how the composer was named Kim Taehyung.

A tear rolled down your face as you looked up at Taehyung in shock, his confirming nod causing a choked breath to leave you. Yoongi already found this place.

With the brightest smile you’ve had on your face in years, you gently grasped Taehyung’s hand. “I’ve never felt more comfortable in my entire life.”

[prompt-master]

All of V3. Chapter by chapter. How did you react?

This is kinda tough to answer because it would be hard to say all of this in a generalized summed up way since there's a lot happening in the games but..

Chapter 1: I knew Akamatsu did it and I also knew Akamatsu didn't REALLY do it, but I continued to doubt myself saying "no...it cant be that right?" So when it came time to accuse Akamatsu I geniunely didn't want to, it almost felt like a bad dream being realized. And i loved it. Then of course, claire de lune got me enotional. I think ch 1 was incredible in every sense of the word and the only thing I would change would be the monokub interuption at the exceution

Chapter 2: i loved chapter 2 for the most part and thought it was the best second chapter in the series. Again, i figured out the murder plot pretty quickly but I really liked tojo so i didnt want it to be true. I hated tojos plottwist though, it pulled me right out of the immersion. Im aware its atupid and over the top as evidence that things are falsified, but it still bothers me. Her execution was fantastic in all the cruelest ways, i feel like she got the harshest punishment.

Chapter 3: i was kinda bored most of this chapter, in a somewhat half interested state? I liked the idea of there being two killers with one being left, but obviously that didnt happen. I liked yumenos story a lot and how ouma pushed her to cry. I hated the plottwist and the execution of the trial a lot. The second half felt useless to me because i knew Shinguuji did it. I was hoping after rethinking the evidence another name would come to mind and it never did. I also hate shock horror with a passion so, since he was the plot device for that, Shinguuji was the only character i was very glad to see be executed

Chapter 4: i thought chapter 4 was rather intense thematically. I wasnt really into the virutal world schtick, but the characters within just felt like....everything was rushing to crash. I felt geniune pressure from everyone to find the killer or let everyone die in a way the other games didnt manage to make me feel. I still think that Saihara should have been a target during this chapter, it would have fit really well themeatically. The plot twist of gonta broke my heart and i did tear up at his goodbye, and I knew from the very beginning that Ouma was lying about not caring about Gonta

Chapter 5: i loved chapter 5 altho it really frustrated me because I knew what Ouma was planning quickly, so I wanted to yell at Saihara to stop solving the mystery. It was frustratingly sad watching Ouma's death and efforts be wasted, and having no one left to really care about him besides Saihara's vauge intruige. It hurt. It hurt a lot, which I enjoy.

Chapter 6: when i realized I was right about Akamatsu not killing Amami I went insane, texting my friend in a huge high going "I WAS RIGHT!!" because I couldn't believe I called an end game twist like that. The rest of the trial however felt like it was droning on and on. The actual main game plot twist made me go ":/" not just because of the "it was never real" twist but also because of the denial for the other peices of the series. However as time went on I began to understand the meta-textual narative that I was meant to be dissapointed in order to end the suffering, and I began to like the ending a bit more. Its odd really. I hate it and i love it. I like the narrative its telling, but i dislike the execition, but i cant think of how to fix the execution because it fills that narrative.

Altho i must admit, I thought right away at the ending that there was an implication of positives. That saihara would find the truth about HPA on his own terms. In general..my feelings in this chapter sre complex, but thats because it stopped being about how the player feels and how the participants feel.

[rowesam]

'give me a character' cas pls tnx <3 (maybe specifically endverse cas to make it more fun)

How I feel about this character : i love it when its busy at supernatural and he gets mean, hes wonderful he deserves everything, ect ect, misha sat on a bed in a gay way in 2009 and fucking built his career around that one act. I'm a sam girl through and through but truly he is a Defining Character

All the people I ship romantically with this character : its. its dean who else would it be. well s6 crowley also. and benny in purgatory in a sandwich kinda way. ive come around megcas since i was 14 too and now i think it was a fun relationship (read: i think they are hot)

My non-romantic OTP for this character : i get that the popular/basic answer would be sam but like. they really dont get much in the way of interactions lol. I WISH they had a deep relationship but almost every time jared and misha interact on screen theres just. nothing. like the polar opposite of one of these cute 'unlikely animal friendship' videos I like him with crowley in the later seasons im obsessed with their dynamics. I like him with jack. I dont think he has a lot of friends tbh

My unpopular opinion about this character: i think cas being dad like with claire is cute and all but i dont think its 'right' i like it when their relationship is pretty much fucked and theres not much he can do about it. OH also im so tired of the bees thing. There was ONE joke about bees and now its all 'cas is obsessed with bees its his favorite creation ever' its cute and all (and im definitly guilty of it too krkr) but im sooo bored of it by now

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon : i'm really gonna shock you now. i hope you're ready for this world shattering never seen before take. I think the gay angel should have gotten to kiss dean and hold his hand and build a future with him theres a bunch of other things tho lol, i wish he adressed his shared possession trauma with sam, i wish there were more episodes focusing on him...I think it's very funny that they keep having bad justification as to why cas isnt in episodes but like. what if he got to really be a main character at the same level as sam and dean uh. what then and quick answers for endverse >:))

How I feel about this character : litteraly why is he so hot in this ep. I guess its the nonchalance. insane

All the people I ship romantically with this character : dean but in a real horny way this time

My non-romantic OTP for this character : myself i would love to kick it with this weirdo, smoke his weed, get in on the orgies whatever im down

My unpopular opinion about this character : idk im just thinking about that part where future dean cuffs 2009 dean now. what an ep. also isnt it funny that this au episode is still so talked about, and then they based an entire season around another post apocaliptic alternate universe and no one gives a shit. bc its bad. i just think its funny how that turned out

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon : for real they were such bastards for making him fuck but ONLY with women, the "what? i like past you", he was making out with dean every hour of the day and i just KNOW it

[vanchlo]

The Partner / Chapter Twelve, "The Resolute"

Word Count: 8.4k /  Story Masterlist /  Read The Assistant /  Read on Wattpad / Song: Hold Me While You Wait by Lewis Capaldi (click to listen) / Warning: Sensitive and upsetting topics, such as death, grief, and miscarriage

"I never know when I will miss you. I can't ever predict just what will grip my heart with the reminder that you are gone. It could be anything. Anytime. Anywhere. You are everywhere and nowhere all at once. When the days are bright, I am blinded by your presence and even when the world is dark I still manage to find you. In laughter, I hear the echo of losing you. Your presence is overflowing in the tears that fall. Now that your body is gone, everything holds your being. I miss you in the cold depths of winter and I long for you in the thick summer breeze. You are my first rising thought in the morning and my last notion as I sink into the heaviness of the night. I thought we ran out of moments together, but every moment seems to belong to you. How can you be everywhere when you are nowhere to be seen? I used to worry about facing the world because I didn't know what would trigger my heartache. I used to be afraid of every feeling, every memory, every moment because I didn't know which ones held you. Now I know you are everywhere and I think that I know why. You're everywhere because you're somewhere inside of who I am. I am the bearer of your life and your memory. I am the keeper of your existence. Even though you're gone, I never really have to search for you. I never know where I'll find you but you are always there. I never know when I will miss you and it happens all the time"

- Rachel Whalen

I had lost count of how many times I had fallen back asleep since he had left for another day of work, the second time in the last few days. I’d be telling a lie if I said that I didn’t miss him, because like he’d confessed when he thought I was sleeping, I missed him all of the time too. The difference was that I felt it now when he was gone. I wasn’t sure why I’d bitten his head off that night about going back to work. I did but couldn’t think about it after the way he broke down in front of me and I just stood there. I didn’t do a thing. Instead, I shook my head and pushed him away. God, how could I do that to him? I thought he’d moved on . . . That’s how it went. I’d wake up to an empty, cold bed and the guilt would come in crashing waves. The hot tears would follow and eventually, I’d fall back into another fitful sleep. Nightmares were almost always guaranteed, but for the first time in our relationship, I comforted myself back to sleep. Somehow, they didn’t wake him like before, but last night when he woke with a gasp that melted into tears, I think I knew because he was busy with his own.

At first, I thought I’d been imagining it, or maybe that was just my coping mechanism by now. Denial and pretending. No, it really was and it went around like a circle. Denying the denial. But when the knocking on the door turned into the dinging of the doorbell, I knew that it was real. It didn’t stop after a few times, like the mailman would. No, this person was persistent, and I definitely was not. I couldn’t even find the strength to move to look at the alarm clock to see the time. By then, it had stopped. He’d only been gone an hour now and I missed him deeply, finding it hard to not pick up the phone to ask him to come home. I did but in my own way, and not one he’d understand, despite how he knew every page of my book.

I hope work is going well

Only a few minutes passed before a reply came in with a silent vibration.

thanks it is, just meetings again and an interview

Sounds boring. I know how you hate both. New hire?

possibly. i forgot to tell u gwen left. i hope ur getting some rest

No, you hadn’t but that’s ok. I think I only talked to her like 5 times. I’m trying.

ya she was good, just kept 2 herself. want me 2 pick up anything for lunch? anything soundin good? Starbucks? pizza? u can have whatever u want

You can pick

At that, I heard my phone lock before placing it face down onto the bedside table, not able to continue a conversation about food any longer. Another wave of irrational tears came at missing him and wanting normalcy back, but the fitful sleep didn’t follow. I wasn’t sure if I was regretful or not when I peeled back the covers, shocked by the sudden cold.

The chilling silence filling the house hit me in the face when I stepped out into the hallway. It had been choking at times, mostly at night when things were at their worst. During the day, like now, it was never this quiet. Something on the tv was always playing, and I soon found myself in front of it, watching the end of a Marvel movie Harry and I once watched.

Its sequel was nearing the halfway point by the time the doorbell rang again. It was on its fourth time now and the person still hadn’t stopped. The surprise on their face was just as strong as that of mine when I found myself at the door, in front of Harry’s grandmother.

“Hi, Becky,” she said softly, a warm cadence to her words like always. I may have been biased towards grandmas, but Harry’s checked all of the points and more. I couldn’t help the squeeze of my heart at the mere sight of her, a melancholy smile spreading on her lips.

“Claire. Um, hi. Harry isn’t here right now, he had to go into work this morning,” I rush, unsure of why I’m telling her this, except for I know why. I hadn’t spoken to another human being that wasn’t Harry or my doctor since . . since it had happened. Sure, texts to Skye, my dad, and Robbie. It was the only way to placate them from telling them I didn’t want to see them. Can I blame them, though?

“Oh, that’s okay. I was uh, hoping I could come in,” she suggests. I stand there, taken aback by her request. I had come to love this woman like she was my own grandmother, and yet here I am, not opening the door for her. “Maybe we could wait for him together with some brookies.”

Dropping my eyes, I watch as she lifts a saran wrapped plate of chocolatey looking cookies. I didn’t need to look any longer to know what they were. Her famous brownie cookies that Harry had compared any cookie or brownie of mine to over the years, and I eventually had found out why.

“You know I can’t turn those down,” I mumble, feeling the first hints of a smile. She grins for me instead, following me into the house that somehow feels even emptier when we step inside. Awkwardly, I closed the door behind her, pulling my hands back into the oversized King’s College crewneck of Harry’s I’d stolen long ago. “Can I . . Can I get you something to drink? Coffee? Water? Tea?” I stumble, watching as she takes a seat at the island, setting down one of those cloth bags beside her.

“Coffee would be fine, honey,” she says, and always with a smile. I welcome the distraction, feeling as if I’d forgotten how to talk to another person. No, I know that I have. I hadn’t even been able to carry on a conversation with Harry, nonetheless his grandmother.

At times, I still felt uncomfortable around his parents, especially his dad. If there was one of them that I felt the easiest around, it was Claire. I’m reminded of the bouquet of black eyed susans probably now wilting on the table when she notes the array of flowers taking up space over there. I nod at her words while closing the lid of the instant coffee machine, placing a tall mug underneath the spout. The compassionate words scribbled in her cursive with its accompanying card come back to me, and suddenly, the steaming coffee grows blurry before my eyes. Sometimes, I wondered if she had a feeling about things like me, because as the first tear fell, she speaks an apology.

“I’m sorry for coming unannounced. I had let Harry know I was in town and would stop by today, but he must have forgotten to mention it to you,” she begins in a low volume, a Harry-like molasses shining in her voice. I mumble an ‘it’s okay’ while watching the coffee continue to fill the mug. It’s almost done, but then what will I do to distract myself? “Harry had said your fridge was quite full, but I couldn’t help but make a few of your favorites to bring you both. Times like these, cooking feels like the last thing you want to do.”

“A lot of things do,” I find myself saying, surprising her I’m sure and especially myself. I hadn’t even been able to find it in myself to put that feeling into words and say them to Harry. It was a blessing and a curse how we could read each other so well, but I know I’d closed myself off from him a long time ago. On accident and then, on purpose.

Ripples form across the surface of the liquid as the last few drops plummet into the dark abyss. I wait, staring at the steam rising from the mug, unsure as to why. A silence had embedded itself into these walls so long ago I couldn’t remember, and it sat between us now too. I still didn’t know how to broach it, and there was no nudging the switch that would let me talk about her. I truly didn’t know how to, not even to her father. Sometimes, I wanted to forget her so I’d stop hurting, but that felt like an impossibility and then a crime. Gulping, I wipe at my cheeks and thread my fingers through the ceramic handle.

“Those are a beautiful assortment of flowers,” she comments again when I set the drink down in front of her. A forced ‘thank you’ leaves my lips when I turn around and walk towards the fridge. “You and Harry are so loved, and so was your baby.”

I’d opened this fridge how many times over the years, and now as the handle sits in my palm, I can’t find it in myself to do it. The forgotten coupons, lists, photographs, drawings from Harper and Ollie, and magnets grew hazy before my eyes. The hum of the coffee machine cooling down wasn’t enough to mask the whimper that escaped my lips, no matter how desperately I tried to shove it down. After breathing in and out a few times, it still didn’t help, but I was able to open the door and grab what I’d needed.

Keeping my head down, I set the coffee creamer in front of her, not spending a second more facing her with the damage on my cheeks. As the spoon clinks against the sides of her mug, I distract myself by finding room in the fridge for the filled tupperware containers she’d taken from the bag. Scribbled labels adorn the top of each one, but I look past them as I stack them on a shelf. From the corner of my eye, I saw her stand from her seat to look at the flowers, thumbing at the typed messages. It’s not until the last one is snug against a container of yogurt and strawberries that somebody says something.

“They always say the same things, don’t they?” she murmurs with an out of place scoff, sounding like a hum from her lips. The tears had dried up as I thought about how to fit a container of beef stroganoff amongst tater tot casserole, but when I turned around, her face still falls. “It was the same with Steven too. They all say that they understand, but there’s no way that they can. They hadn’t lost their spouse, or . . their baby.” This roots me to the spot and we spend the next few moments looking at each other as her Soft Rose lipsticked lips fall.

“I didn’t want to come, Becky, because I know that when I lost my loves, I wanted to be alone. But that was where my demons lied in wait, and I don’t want you to go through the same thing I did when I lost my baby,” she continues. I couldn’t tell if it was the light or the way my eyes deceive me with a returning wetness, but a similar glint appears in hers. It holds my attention for a mere moment until my heart starts to pound against my ribs. “Steven and I were a little younger than you and Harry when we lost our baby at four months.”

There could be no saving my throat nor my eyes as I gulp against the dryness, feeling all of the wetness detour down my face. Her words ricochet inside of me, bouncing off walls. For the first time in too long, they sink in and make me feel something. I resist at first, not wanting to let my chest shake or my heart race, but there’s no stopping it. Staring back at her, she quietly sits back down and takes a sip from her coffee. Looking back to me, a corner of her mouth twitches as a gleaming droplet beads at her chin.

“What has it been now? Fifty five years and I still miss them . . my little baby,” the blood pounds in my ears as I stare at her in what, amazement? Horror? Complete and utter surprise? Probably, all of them.

“Gran, I-I never knew,” a voice says from behind me. Turning, another wave of shock courses through me at the sight of Harry with his hand on the door to the garage.

“I never told anybody, except for my immediate family when it had happened . . The thing was, the taboo around miscarriages and infertility hasn’t changed a whole lot since then. It disappoints me really . . Back then, you didn’t talk about it. Now, sometimes you talk about it, but it’s just the same. It’s near to impossible to speak about. Friends and family want to say something, but they don’t know how to without hurting you. So, instead of mentioning the loved one you lost, people don’t when they think of them, and they’re forgotten. That’s always been my worst fear, and I don’t want either of you to go through that- I cried when your mother told me what had happened, Harry. My heart breaks for the both of you, knowing that you’re going through the same nightmare that my Steven and I did.”

A puff leaves his lips and I can almost hear him gulp as sound evades us. Words haven’t been a friend to my lips in what feels like months, and right now isn’t an exception.

“I’m so sorry, Gran.”

“You have nothing to apologize for, Harry. I’m so sorry that you lost your baby . . I heard it was a girl, your daughter,” her words are ginger and slow. Somehow, another piece joins the puzzle, but it still leaves me staring at the floor as tidal waves crash inside of me. “It was a long time ago, but I still miss them and wonder who they’d be. I’m sorry to say that never goes away, and that the whole b-s of ‘time heals all wounds’ isn’t entirely true. You just build up scar tissue to it, but some days are worse than others. I miss Steven terribly some days, like the day you announced your engagement, and your pregnancy. When your mother told me over the phone three weeks ago, I wished he could’ve been there too, for you to talk to about fathers losing a child. Men are still pressured to not show emotions but it was just as hard on him to lose our baby, and sometimes fathers are forgotten.”

A mess of emotions roils inside of me, flipping my stomach upside down. My heart too, arguably. The last sound that I make out is a sniffle of his before I’m bringing my hands to my eyes, and sobbing against them. It felt like I stood there for minutes before escaping down the hall, when it was only a few seconds in reality.

I wasn’t certain if they knew what I did. That I could hear them from the bedroom down the hall, the place I’d come to retreat to instead of Harry’s arms. I felt him coming towards me just moments ago, but I couldn’t do it. I think I’d almost forgotten what his touch felt like. If they thought I could hear them, they probably had mistaken me for being asleep or for not listening. I think they tried to keep their voices down, but despite Harry being a closet musician, there wasn’t much for treatment to these walls. He’d joked before about having sex one night his mom stayed here but I pushed him away, chalking it up to thin walls.

Now, the memory wasn’t that funny to me as I heard their conversation. I almost felt guilty, as if I was cheating by hearing them, but this was the only way I could take part in a conversation I know I should be part of. I didn’t think that I could even speak if I had wanted to, because of the hiccuped sobs that filled my chest, making it hard to speak. I know that I made the right decision when my head rests against the door upon hearing about what they say next, about me.

“I can hardly get her to have a conversation with me, Gran. Let alone about . . about the baby.”

“Oh, Harry. You just have to give her time.”

“I know and I have, but it’s becoming all the harder to feel as time passes. She’s getting worse and I’m barely staying put together. It scares me so much, because I don’t want to lose her too. If I did, I’d lose everything I have to live for.”

At last, the sound of my choked sobs drowned out that of their voices. By the time my lungs calmed down and my heart hardened once more, it was quiet. I missed his voice despite how it had almost betrayed me to another, and made me hurt. My rumbling stomach ultimately won the race and it was what led me down the hall, and without knowing, back to her. I blamed it on the appetizing smell wafting from the kitchen.

I’d already seen her and had decided to keep going, but upon passing the island where she sat again, I heard her intake of breath. Harry wasn’t anywhere to be seen, despite the wiped clean plate in the sink with the large fork and an empty can. He was the only one who used them and who drank the sparkling waters that I thought tasted like bug spray.

“I’m so sorry, Becky. The last thing I wanted was to upset you, honey.”

“You don’t have to apologize. Frankly, I’m rather tired of people saying those two words, but thank you,” I return, a steadiness arriving in my voice that I didn’t know I’d missed. “Can I-?”

“Of course, it’s all yours,” she insists with a smile. Nodding, I pick up the serving spoon and a plate, feeling my stomach grow happy at the sight and smell of her famous homemade lasagna. “There’s garlic bread in the oven and salad in the fridge. I’m just going to use the little girl’s room.”

I almost smile, realizing that I’ve missed her and just maybe, I feel okay enough to talk about it. I’d found a seat at the island beside her empty cup of coffee, already digging into the lasagna. An almost embarrassing moan left my lips at the taste of the layers of cheese, pasta, and bolognese sauce.

“Leave it to Claire to find the way to your heart,” somebody comments. Turning, I find Harry walking towards me with a tilt to his lips. He unrolls the hem of a Queen Bohemian Rhapsody shirt, looking more like himself now that he’s out of a suit. Sometimes, I still catch myself thinking that it was always the opposite, seeing how I’d know him to always be in suits for so long.

To my surprise, I don’t flinch or pull back when his hand arrives on my shoulder as I wipe my mouth with a napkin.

“You don’t know how happy it makes me to see you eating, and enjoying it . . I’m surprised you haven’t broken into that plate of brookies yet,” he comments. Something happy buds on my lips when his lips sponge a kiss to my temple.

“So am I,” I reply, cutting myself another bite of the food. To my happiness, his arm comes around my shoulder and stays there. I welcome it and feel a warmth grow in my gut upon finding the courage to meet his eyes. They hold something that I learn to be mischief when he plucks one of the cookies off the plate. “Hey, save some for me.”

“Don’t worry, they’re all yours. Well, except a few for me. Maybe we could split them down the middle. Half for me and half for you,” he suggests with a cocky shrug to his broad shoulders. It surprises us both when my lips spill a few second giggle. “You have no idea how much I’ve missed that sound.”

“I’ve missed you,” it’s but a squeak and still, I know he hears it by the sad curl of his lips. “I’m going to try.”

“Thank you, my lovebug. That’s all I can ask for,” he smiles, stealing a quick peck from my lips. It catches me off guard and I find myself staring at him while he manages to take a bite that’s half of the cookie. He winks at me and I turn away, shoveling a large bite of cheesy pasta past my lips.

Another bite had donned my fork by the time Claire found her seat beside us. I’d made a dent in my garlic bread by now as Harry worked on his second cookie.

Swallowing, I loaded my fork with a scrap of melted cheese and bolognese sauce. “Claire. How . . How did you do it? Be okay again after losing your baby? It . . It feels impossible,” the words seem to come from nowhere at first.

After a few moments, I know where they stem from, and just how much importance they hold. It looks back at me in Harry’s eyes when I peer up at him, smiling back when he thumbs away a tear below my eye. As her response hits our ears, I reach my arm out and across his back, holding tightly onto his side. I didn’t let go once as we cried together with his grandma about our lost babies, and neither did he.

I went to bed with a hope in my heart, thinking that tomorrow would be different. Alas, I woke up to an empty bed and it wasn’t. I wasn’t surprised but sure, I was let down. I knew that somebody else would be much more disappointed than I was, if that were possible.

It wasn’t long after my waking realization that there was a knock on the door anda creak, “Hey, buggie. I’m making french toast. How many pieces do you want?” The rest of the night had been uneventful, for once. His grandma stayed for another hour or two as we ate cookies and I finally talked about it. Her. Now, lying with my back to Harry, I didn’t know how to do that again. To talk. “Wakey wakey, it’s nearly noon.”

His voice was closer now as his hands settled on my shoulders from behind. The feeling of his thumbs kneading the tissue made me want to let him drive away the intrusive thoughts. To let him win, but I didn’t know how. Yesterday had seemed like a fluke, as I looked back on it. Even if he was her father, how could I explain to him the hollowness that had filled me when I remembered that my child had died inside of me? No, that wasn’t something he could understand, nor could he hear how much I wished he had been there that morning. That the fact he wasn’t there had changed everything. I couldn’t tell him that and I never wanted to, but I’d gotten close. At the times his nagging and hovering drove me up the wall, my tongue itched to deal the worst blows just to get him off my back. I knew it was wrong, so much of it was but I didn’t know how to stop. All I knew how to do was to drown myself in my regret afterwards. Sometimes, I was mad that we couldn’t keep alcohol around, but at others, I was glad for it.

His molasses voice murmurs my name once more, another time that I ignore, until I can’t. “No thanks.”

“I can bring it in here for you. There’s bacon and strawberries too. Orange juice, as well.”

Shaking my head, I bury my face deeper into the pillow, finding that it has his smell. At one time, he had been my safety blanket, but now it was his smell that could calm me down. I wanted to feel guilty about it but I didn’t have the energy to feel guilt because of anything else as it was all focused on one thing.

“I’ll have a little bit,” I surrender, listening to his hopeful response before leaving. For once, he let me eat alone in the bedroom. But he still inspected my plate, and I could tell that he was biting back a remark as he read the paper at the island.

“Can we talk?”

“What about?” I replied, bending over to place my dishes in the dishwasher. Standing back up, I fail at readying myself for his next onslaught of questions. The ones that I can’t answer.

“You know . . About Phoebe,” he answers. I hear it, the way he has to shove the words past his lips in order to get them out. I only know because I’ve done it a thousand times, and often with him. You do it when it’s too hard to say, but you know that it has to be done regardless.

“What’s there to talk about?”

“Becks,” he sighs, annoyance clear in his voice. “I thought you said that you were going to try. Last night went so well and you did great, I-.”

“I just can’t do it today. Okay, Harry?” I retort tearfully, catching the sagging of his features when I lock eyes with him. Sighing, I forget the cookie I’d picked up, placing the saran wrap back over it.

“So what, we need to schedule a fricken time to talk about it?”

I’d begun my retreat, but I wasn’t far enough yet. No, if I was in earshot of Harry, it wasn’t over yet. It had always been that way, ever since the beginning.

“Harry, please,” my words start, decorated with tears that drag my words underwater.

“We got pregnant and we . . we had a miscarriage, Becks. It’s nearly been a month now, but what comes next? When do we get back to normal?”

I hadn’t even been facing him and the words felt like a slap in the face. The look on mine must have felt similar to him, because when I turn around to look at him through blurry eyes, he melts into a puddle of regret.

“I didn’t mean it that way, Becks. Not-.”

“Not what way, Harry? That we should just forget about it and move on with our lives? God, you’re sounding like the doctor the other day who said that we can start trying again whenever we want. But I don’t want to try again yet, Harry, because I’m too scared that we’d lose another one- I mean, what if I can’t have kids? And- I don’t want to forget her or replace her,” but he didn’t hear the last part and I hadn’t decided if I’d wanted him to.

“You don’t know that, Becks, and that’s not what I meant at all. I promise,” he interrupts. The legs of his oversized sweatpants sag down to his ankles when he stands. “I didn’t say we had to get pregnant again right away. I’m fucking scared too. I just mean that I want us to get better. Collectively and on our own. I hate seeing you so upset all of the time, and just want you to be happy. We’re supposed to get married sometime this year and I still don’t know when that’s going to happen. The house is going to be ready in a few months, and I wanted to bring you there one day to look at the progress.”

I had begun to shake my head long before he’d stopped talking. It brought an edge to his words and an annoyance that I didn’t like, despite inciting it. A loud puff passes his lips and he returns to the chair, raking a hand through his hair. That either meant annoyance or boredom, or both. Like I tend to do, I take it personally and figure he’s both annoyed and bored of me, not that it was anything new lately.

“I can’t do that, Harry. I-I can’t,” fumbling with my words, my hand gets caught in my hair as I avoid his eyes. It doesn’t stop him from retorting an inquisitive ‘why not?’ “How am I supposed to go and see the house we’re building that has five extra bedrooms, Harry? How do you expect me to look at the rooms we planned out for o-our kids, and one for . . for Phoebe’s nursery when she’s not coming anymore?”

“Becks,” the nickname leaves his lips like that one breath that’s knocked out of you when you fall. The wrinkles that are rarely there above his eyes return as his eyebrows fall deeply. “I didn’t . . I wasn’t thinking. I’m so sorry.”

“And so am I, but . . I just can’t do that right now, o-or talk about her. I’m sorry,” I say with haste to my words and in my actions. The sad sound from his lips follows me to the couch where I perch, pretending to watch the tv. He doesn’t join me and after a while of pretending, my eyes start to droop.

The image of Shrek and Fiona making animal balloons falls away until a sound wakes me. Time had passed because now Fiona stands in front of Lord Farquad and Shrek is nowhere to be seen.

“I’m going to run an errand. Is there um, anything you need, bug?” he murmurs, the jangling of keys adorning his words.

“No thanks.”

“Okay, I won’t be long- Becks?” he speaks up, clearing his throat at last. I call back a question and wait as he idles. “I really am sorry about earlier, I didn’t mean anything insensitively or to upset you. I’d never want to do that.”

“I know, Harry. It’s okay,” are the last words that pass between us before he bids me a goodbye. I welcome the lack of silence but curl into the couch more, pulling the blanket around me as the movie continues.

My head throbbed when I stood up, but it had been happening a lot lately. I knew it was because I hadn’t been eating much, and as I think about that, my feet lead me to the fridge.

I couldn’t remember the last time I had felt full after eating, and still wanting a cookie afterwards. Like I do now. Licking the crumbs from my fingers after the last bite, the wooden floor is cold against my bare feet. For a reason I don’t know, I soon am staring up the staircase, and in that direction. It pulls at me to climb the stairs, but something deep down throbs in denial.

Instead, my attention is stolen when my ringtone blares from the couch. I lose my phone half of the time these days and so calls went unanswered. Assuming it was Harry with a grocery question, I picked it up without looking at who it was.

“Hi, Boops.”

“Dad,” I almost sigh, but I was unsure as to why. Was it the bombardment of talking to my dad on the phone for the first time in almost a month? Most likely. Or was it the homesickness that grew in my gut at the sound of his voice. “Daddy.”

“Hi, honey. I was hoping you’d answer. I’ve missed your voice.”

Sinking onto the couch, my bottom lip quivers as I try to breathe in slowly, but my heart won’t listen. It hasn’t for a while now.

“I’ve missed yours, Daddy.”

“Oh, baby girl,” he says in an exhale. Already, I know that he hears what my voice is dipped in, but I don’t hide it. It was too late for that. “I can’t tell you how sorry I am.”

“I’m getting really sick of that word, but thanks, Dad.”

His classical chuckle begins its opening but it falters there, and so did any chance at mine. Silence had rarely been uncomfortable with my Dad. That was only when I’d gotten into trouble or when I was trying to tell him about something that had happened with my Mom, which usually went hand in hand. Over the years, I could hardly count the times silence had grown awkward between us, until it did now.

“What are you doing?” he decides to say, lifting my eyes to the tv screen where it appears Fiona and Farquaad will get their Happily Ever After. I knew without needing to think what would happen next. They wouldn’t, because it never really happens that way. No, it’s not that easy or immediate.

“Watching Shrek on the couch.”

“Is Harry there?” he murmurs a question.

“No, he went to do something not long ago. I don’t know what,” I answer, wrapping the tassels of the blanket around my finger until it hurts. “I think he’s mad at me. I can’t tell anymore, it seems like he always is.”

“I’m sure that’s not true, honey.”

Shaking my head for nobody to see, I taste blood when pressing my lips together to hold back the whimpering. Sniffling, I breathe in raggedly before speaking, “I think it is . . I can’t blame him, because I’ve been so horrible to him, Dad. H-He was supposed to be a Daddy and I’ve forgotten that he’s g-going through all of this too. I’ve been in my own little world being sad a-about the baby, and I forgot about him, Dad. I’m supposed to marry him soon, and I don’t even wear my ring anymore, and I can’t go upstairs, and-,” he doesn’t cut me off. I leave that honor for myself as I watch the color drain from my finger when I unwrap the tassel. I’d slowly come to hate the color red, even refusing to eat strawberries at first. It’d become the color I’d hated most after . . after that morning.

“I’m sure that he understands, Ree, or he’s at least trying to. I’ve spoken to him a few times now, and he’s not mad at you. He’s just frustrated and overwhelmed. Harry hates to see you unhappy, it’s always been that way with you too, and vice versa. He wants to fix everything, but I told him that’s not always possible. You can’t fix another person . . . and neither can you, Boops. You’re doing your best and so is he, and after a while-.”

“But I’m not, Dad. I’m hardly trying, only when I feel like it. I . . I don’t know how to do any of this and I don’t want to. I don’t want her to be gone. I was supposed to be a Mom. Her Mom,” I weep, pressing the handful of blanket against my eyes, catching my tears.

“I wish I could make it all better for you too, honey. Ever since you were little, I wanted to kiss the owies better and tell off the kids who were mean to you, but . . . you have to do it yourself and when you can, Becky. You can’t rush this. Grief, it doesn’t have a timetable or a road map- and, honey, you are a Mom. You’re Phoebe’s Mom. Nothing will ever change that,” somehow, I cry harder at his last words, melting into the couch.

“Thank you, Daddy,” I cry into the phone, wishing it was his shoulder, instead. It’s a few moments filled with the sound of my tears and his own sniffles, before I speak again. “But how do I . . how do I let Harry back in? I pushed him away without meaning to and now we’re so far apart, Dad.”

“I think that you need to remember that he’s grieving the loss of a child too. Your child together, Ree, and that he’s feeling the exact same feelings that you are. He’s devastated at not getting to be a father to Phoebe, to meet her, watch her grow up into a person, and do all of the things that you’re grieving the loss of too. You’re a team, honey, and you need to give each other some grace too. There aren’t any rules to this and maybe I shouldn’t talk because I’m divorced, but the first reason you’re there with each other is because you love each other. You have to remember that too, honey. Hey, I’m sorry, I think I’m burning my dinner in the oven. Can I call you back later, sweetie?”

“Yeah, Dad. Of course. Um, thank you. That really helped me,” I reply, swiping at my tears with the dry side of the blanket.

“I’m glad to hear it. I love you, Boops.”

“I love you too, Daddy,” and he’s gone. All I hear is the silence of the dead call and Shrek’s voice on the tv as he yells at Lord Farquaad. It’s what fills my ears and distracts my mind when I lay my head on the pillow, resting my hand on my belly without thinking. But unlike every other time I’d found myself doing it since . . since I was actually holding my baby, I let it stay there, wildly wishing she could be here watching Shrek with me.

I heard him come in when the credits of the movie are switching to the opening of its sequel. It was arguably the best, in my opinion, but it was something Harry and I had always disagreed upon. The memory sparks an invitation for him on my tongue, but upon raising my head, I watch him disappear down the hallway.

My ears aren’t sure what to focus on, the sound of his parting footsteps, the racing of my heart, or guitar strings soon being plucked from down the hall. It wasn’t much of a choice, because my feet were already leading me towards his study. A place where he had been spending a lot of time recently. I find myself gravitating towards the sound and wanting to hear more, but I stop outside the door nervously. My heart pulls me forward, despite the way it gallops, making me feel sick to my stomach. Standing there, I wonder why this is something I’m nervous about, but nothing is the same anymore. I hadn’t felt this way for what had it been now, years? There hadn’t been a time since the beginning that I was nervous to talk to Harry, and yet, here I stood doing just that.

His playing stopped and I perked up, making out the scribbling of pen on paper. Was he writing a song, I wondered quietly and wished I could ask. I didn’t know how to, and that was something I’d thought too many times lately. How to get out of bed. To eat a whole plate of food. Talk to my family and friends. I hardly even knew how to talk to Harry anymore. That’s what was holding me back, wasn’t it? Sure, if you wanted to sum it up.

“I know you’re standing outside the door . . Did you need something?” Harry murmurs, an edge to his voice. It was one that had appeared out of the blue and refused to leave. I only knew because I’d felt my voice change like that too.

There’s the creaking of the floor before I press the ajar door open enough for me to fit through. I find him sitting back down on his office chair, but he faces away from me, a guitar propped on his lap.

“How’d you know?” I ask softly, still awkwardly standing in the doorway. His eyes flit to mine and I’m unsure of why I look away, except that I can’t face him. No, not when mine are still wet and I’m sure they aren't going to dry up anytime soon. Not after what I’m about to say.

“You forget how long I’ve known you,” he mumbles, peering down at the moleskin journal he scribbles in. “Four years, give or take. You learn their cues and the sounds they make when you come to know somebody for that long. That’s how I heard you at the door, it was your footsteps.”

“Oh,” I respond flatly, feeling dumb. His tone doesn’t imply it and nor do his words, but the embarrassment has run rampant already.

Watching him write and escape to his own little world had always been one of my favorite things to observe. Even his handwriting was something that brought me . . comfort. I blamed it on the familiarity, but as it pours from his pen, it makes my heart slow down a few ticks.

“My Dad called and we talked for a little bit.”

Harry hums a reply, crossing something out on the piece of paper. Scratching his head, he sighs whilst staring at the writing. I can’t make it out from here, but once again, the silence finds its old spot. Remembering his initial question when he heard me at the door, I worry that I’m bothering him. Gulping past the nervousness and doubt, I pedal forward.

“Was that yours?” I ask warily, noting his head rising so he can meet my eyes for a split second. They hold a question in them, perhaps dozens. “The song. It . . It was really pretty.”

“Yeah . . It’s just something I’ve been playing around with,” his answer comes out in a pillowy tone. It has changed ever since . . since I’d run away from him, and I hear it now as he speaks his reply.

“I really . . really like it,” I comment, looking towards the ceiling when his grandfather’s Gibson acoustic grows hazy in my eyes.

“Thank . . you. Hey, what is it? Did your dad say something that upset you?” it had been so long since I’d heard that steely edge absent from his voice. I don’t know why I mourned it, because it was my fault it had ever arrived in the first place. Wasn’t it? “Becks.”

“Yeah, he said a lot of things th-that made sense, actually,” I confess, dropping my head to stare at my fingers that I wring. I’m unable to ignore the feeling of my lips trembling against each other, despite busying myself with adjusting my rings. They stop when I arrive at the one that speaks volumes, and how deeply I’d ignored it.

Braving the storm, I finally look at him. His greens are patient and soft, something neither of our eyes have been for the other for awhile now. Without breaking eye contact, he settles his guitar onto its stand and discards the pad of paper.

“Harry, c-can I have a hug?” slowly, the overdue question comes.

“Of course,” he responds, a corner of his mouth quirking up. Already, he’s holding his arms out towards me. “You’ve never needed to ask, buggie.”

“Thank you,” I murmur, feeling the air whoosh out of me when my body touches his. Somehow, my chest shakes harder with a new sob. It only worsens when his hands come under my thighs, lifting me up to sit on his lap.

“It’s been so long since we’ve hugged,” I know he doesn’t mean to, but it feels like a chasm through my chest when he says that. The guilt that had arrived at my dad’s words increases by tenfold.

“I’m sorry,” it’s but a whisper against his neck, my favorite place for hide and seek. But it was always him seeking me, it had been for months now, and I hadn’t let him win. Not once.

“What?”

“I’m so sorry for everything, Harry,” I repeat, pulling back to find his greens swarmed by tears. Swiping my thumb under them, I catch the way that they leak with sadness. “For how horribly I’ve treated you this last month, and how . . how I forgot that you- you lost our baby too.”

“Oh, honey. You don’t have to-,” he begins, adamant in his apology. One that I won’t accept.

“No, but I do have to apologize,” I sob, surprised at the way I’m shocked by the rough feeling of his cheeks. It had been so long since I’d touched him like this, despite watching him grow his beard out. “My dad, he . . he put it into perspective for me. I can’t believe I didn’t see it before, I hate myself for that, for-.”

“Hey, don’t hate yourself for anything. This last month has been a Hell we never thought we’d have to endure. Something we shouldn’t have to deal with, and one that isn’t our fault,” he insists, thumbing at the place where a dimple would usually fall in my left cheek. I’d forgotten it was there, just like I’d done the same to him.

“But all you’ve been doing is trying to take care of me, and I made that so hard for you,” comes my cry against his palm, feeling the way he holds me together from breaking for the thousandth time. No, that would imply I’d have been put back together, but that wasn’t something I’d done. “You tried to make me eat and I fought you on it until you stopped talking about it. I argued with you and ignored you when you were just trying to keep the world going, but you never stopped, even though I did. You didn’t stop living and loving me when I stopped.”

“Becks, it’s okay,” he repeats, the words sliding into my ears as my hand wanders to his neck. A hoodie with cartoons from our childhoods dons his upper half, tattoos peeking out from the color. I found the charm of his necklace instantaneously, something I could do in the dark.

“But it’s not, Harry. It’s not okay how I treated you. I forgot you and that you’ve been mourning the loss of your child too. Our b-baby,” I whimper, sniffling when I inhale uneasily. My fingers shake before me until he takes hold of my hand, surrounding it with his own before pressing it to his lips. “I’m so sorry.”

“I forgive you, Becks. I always will,” Harry says, tucking his chin over my head when I melt against him. “I meant it that first night after we came home and you disappeared on me . . We lost our baby, our child, and I can’t . . I can’t lose you too, Rebecca. I have, time and time again, and I can’t do it again. I’ve hardly stayed pieced together lately being so far away from each other like we have . . God, the only thing that kept me going was just thinking, ‘one more day’ for so many days.”

Hiccuping, my hands brace themselves against his taut back, feeling his own drift along my spine. Shaking my head against the crook of his neck, I struggle to breathe, let alone speak, “I’m so sorry, Harry. I can’t believe how awful I was to you. We’re supposed to get married soon, and I can’t even live up to that in sickness and health part of the vows.”

He continued to murmur assurances that everything was okay, and for the first time in a long while, I found myself believing him. Crying against his neck, I heard his own shed tears onto mine as my hands rubbed circles into his shoulders.

“I’m sorry I got mad at you that day for going to work, even though you asked me and I said it was okay . . And-.”

“Shhh, it’s okay. You don’t have to do that, Becks,” he assures me, pressing a kiss to my head. Again, I believe him, and it feels easier to breathe. Just in the slightest.

“I was such a bitch to you.”

Something sparks inside of my chest at the sound I hear next, one that had been lost along the way. His laugh. His song.

“I’ve been known to be quite the dick on one or two occasions, as well,” I savor the glint that appears in his eyes upon pulling away. It had been one of the first times I was able to lift my head since before all of this had happened, because it had been better just to hide. No, not now.

The quirk to his lips is a full on tilt now, and through them, I’m reminded of what drew me to this man in the first place. It was those eyes and that smile that made me melt upon impact. Well, then there’s the sunshine they share, and how I taste it when his lips meet mine for really the first time in what, a month. Emotion pulls at me from somewhere underneath at the thought, but he makes me forget rather quickly. He’s always been good at that.

His peppermint chapstick sticks to my lips after he’s pulled away several seconds later, trying to catch his breath. The cobwebs have been dusted away in more ways than one, and it feels weird at first, wrong almost, but I laugh. It catches him by surprise too and his eyes focus on me, and only grow brighter.

“I’ve missed kissing you, and laughing with you,” Harry grins, pressing one more to my lips before brushing his nose against mine.

“So have I. I’m s-.”

“I swear, if you say that word one more time,” he tuts, shaking his head with his bottom lip caught between his teeth.

“What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know. I’ll have to figure out something,” he says, sighing for the dramatic effect. I giggle along with him a moment later, remembering the flecks of gold hidden in his eyes. I remember a lot, too much almost, and the gold is gone as my eyes flood once more. “I know it’s hard, Becks. Something has never been this difficult for me . . for you either. But we have to talk, and I’ve been aching for ages now to talk to you . . I don’t want to ignore it, because they shouldn’t be forgotten. Our daughter. We need to talk about them, about her,” I’m nodding before he can finish, feeling his warm lips against my forehead as I focus on my breaths. “In and out, bug. In and out. We can do this. We’ll start slow.”

I haven’t stopped nodding, but once my lungs start to work again, I pull away and find his eyes once more. It comes to me and I can’t hold it back in anymore, knowing I need to say it first. To tell him.

“Okay, let’s talk about o-our daughter,” I begin, cringing at the sound of my voice breaking already. He nods, cupping my face in his palm, the sweetest of looks on his face.

[adsosfraser]

The Stone’s Toll Chapter Two

Read on AO3

“Mrs. Randall, ye have a visitor.” Claire stared at the nurse, curiosity plain on her face. 

 She left and softly closed the door behind her. Minutes later, Claire heard the click of the lock again and strained her neck towards the noise. 

 Graham smiled sheepishly as he shuffled into her room. He held a small bouquet of heather, thistles, and gorse wrapped in twine. 

 “Hello miss, tis lovely tae see ye again. I picked these just this afternoon on my way here. I was lucky they were all so close together.” The boy searched the room and put the flowers in the empty vase on the table to her right. “I don’t know if ye remember, but I found you up at the standing stones. Well my mam always said to watch out for the faerie hill but I was a wee bit curious ye ken. I’m glad I took a wander over because… sorry miss my mam always tells me how I go blethering on about nonsense and such so that’s just to say I hope you are feeling better miss..?” 

 “Claire Fr.. err Randall.” Claire couldn’t help the smile at the young man's youth and almost naïveté, it was a breath of fresh air compared to the ordeals of the past months.

 She reached out her hand for him to shake. 

 “It was very kind of you to come visit Graham. Thank you.” He blushed at her compliment.

 “Well I brought some cards because I ken how boring it is to be locked up in one of these rooms. And the radio is a pounding nuisance sometimes as well. Last year I stumbled on one of the fence posts I was putting up when I was helping down at auld Hamish’s. The nail went straight through the leg and I ended up here a day. Mam was absolutely furious at me, boxed my ears till they rang for weeks. My mam’s a nurse here so it’s no trouble at all that I’m here right now visiting. I guess I get special insider privileges. I come here after school to do my schoolwork and she says I’m no bother. That’s what I was just doing before I decided to pop in here Miss.”

 Claire welcomed the ramblings of Graham. It was a nice distraction to the morbid thoughts that lay festering below.

 “Well I appreciate the company. My… husband just left to prepare things for our short stay here. I’m sorry I’m rubbish at most card games, but I’ll go my hand at it.” 

 The two chatted companionably and he even managed to pry out a laugh or two from her. Claire pushed down feelings of familiarity of Fergus and the boy before her. He couldn’t have been more than a couple years older than the boy she had just left behind hours ago, with the same long-lashed dark eyes and dark hair. Tears sprung at the thought of her son and she turned out of view to wipe them away. 

 “Do you have any fours?” Graham interrupted her thoughts. 

 “Ach! It feels like I’m being cheated here.” Claire flashed a smile and pushed forward the two cards on the table between them.

 “Hello darling. It seems you’ve made a new friend.”

 Claire stiffened at her husband's entrance into the small hospital room. Graham flicked his gaze between the two of them, sensing the tension. He awkwardly picked up the game in front of them and shoved the cards into his pocket.  

 “Yes. This is Graham Munro, the one who helped me to the hospital.”

 “Thank you for bringing my wife safely back into my custody Graham. I’m sure she has lots to tell me, and would appreciate time to rest.”

 Graham cleared his throat. “Well Miss Claire, I wish ye a speedy recovery. Twas a pleasure to meet ye.” 

 “You as well Graham. Thank you for the flowers.”

 The boy reached out to squeeze Claire’s hand and smiled warmly. He turned on his heel and raced out to the corridor. 

 Moments later, Frank shoved the table to the side and knelt by his wife’s side. He reached out to hold the hands that rested on her lap. Claire flinched at his touch once again and Frank furrowed his brow. Frank felt a squeeze in his hand and smiled up at her. She put on a strained smile as she stared down at him. He finally noticed the silver that encircled her right ring finger and made to take it off. She pulled her hand violently from his grasp and guarded the jewellry to her chest. He pushed off the reaction to the shock the doctor had described. He just needed to be patient. 

 “Darling, everything is prepared at the manse for our arrival. You’ll rest here tonight, recover, heal, and then I’ll bring you over in the morning. I left your suitcase there and I’m sure you’ll have enough to get you through our stay.” He walked over to a chair near the window while he spoke and placed her stays in his hands. 

 “Alright.” Her gaze was transfixed on her fingers in her lap. 

 “This is… remarkable Claire, where on earth did you find these?” 

 “Hmph.” Claire offered as a reply, almost mimicking the Scottish noise her husband always made.

 “Right I’m to leave with Reverend Wakefield to visit over some archives again. You’ll be in good hands here for now.” 

 A nurse wheeled in a cart and instructed Claire to rest. She gathered the sterile bandages from the metal tray and pulled back the cover of Claire’s hospital gown to display the burns flicking across the cream skin of her stomach. She winced as the nurse applied the salve against her sore skin so she took pity on her poor patient. The nurse pushed a syringe into her IV line and Claire’s limbs instantly relaxed. Her head filled with cotton and she wasn’t able to hold it up herself, until she let go of the tension within herself and slumped down on the stiff mattress. 

 It was cold and she was only in her shift, a white shawl draped across her shoulders. Piles of men dotted the ground and a bunny twitched its nose at her before sprinting away. There, underneath the corpse of his enemy, lay her husband. His body was covered in blood and crusted with dirt and deep scratches marked his body: the result of war. 

 “Are you alive?” She stretched her hand out towards his cheek.  

 Her hand cupped his stumbled jaw and his skin blazed against hers. The fever shook his body and sapped his energy. What little he had left was spent twisting his neck in her direction. A light dusting of snow covered the bloody grass of the moor. All too soon, she was pulled away and the sight of him faded from her grasp. 

***

The hours passed and the logs burned to small sticks, Frank replacing them every so often with new wood. He turned towards the table that held a half-empty glass, plying himself more and more with alcohol as the glass drowned in the weight of the drink. Claire worked tirelessly the precious few days where her husband hadn’t yet pressed her for an explanation, flipping through all available resources to find any trace of Jamie. Mrs. Graham had been a wonder in helping Claire but her attitude regardless would not have changed anything. The search was futile and failed to bring what she wanted. She couldn’t look for the family that was alive that she had left behind. The sacrifice and promise she made meant nothing with the outcome that soon became her every thought. She abandoned them all for a thought of a future, not even a live, breathing one.

 She spoke of her time with Jamie, reluctantly giving only the necessary pieces of her life, an outline that she would be able to view events from outside. She stepped out of her life and watched herself ramble on, an outsider and onlooker to a tragic event. That wasn’t her, those things couldn’t have happened to her. Claire finished her final thoughts in a daze, looking anywhere but Frank. 

 “Give me-excuse me please Claire I need some time to think this over.”

 Claire poured another glass for herself and slammed the burning liquid back along with a large pill from the hospital.

 Frank returned a few hours later, having thought in great depth. Claire’s thoughts were muddled. She couldn’t remember how many glasses she had.

 “Claire I can accept that you’ve had this… relationship with this man. I will never understand your feelings for him, but I can accept that you had this experience, and that leaving him broke your heart.” 

 “I don’t think you understand. I was with a man for two years, and I loved him deeply as his wife.” 

 “A point you’ve made several times and which I’ve said I understand. Now let me tell you this. I love you Claire, unconditionally, nothing you could do could stop my loving you.” 

 “Darling I’ve been offered a position at Harvard. I was thinking we could move to Boston together. Start over. Leave all...this behind.”

 She didn’t care. He was dead. She might as well have been too. Frank could do as he bloody well pleased. Her mind focused on the patterns of the carpet below her, forcing out any other thoughts. Her finger swirled in spirals in one spot on her thigh, mimicking what she saw.

 “Alright. ” 

 That was the first time Claire had looked into his eyes since her disappearance. His brown eyes were soft and crinkled in an attempt towards a smile to his wife. She couldn’t find the malice she desperately searched for. She needed the anger, the sharp coldness. It was too much. Frank kneeled at Claire’s feet and he reached to pull her down into his embrace. He brought her down to his chest. She stiffened. 

 “Claire, you've made me so happy. I know we’ll be happy. Together.” 

 “T-together? You mean for me to come along?” 

 “Of course, darling. I wouldn’t have it any other way.” 

 Claire only nodded in response. She knew she’d never be happy with Frank anymore, or anyone for that matter. She didn’t intend to live long, but what option did she have to resist a husband? Frank kissed her curls and pulled her head to his shoulder. He sniffled and pulled back, placing both hands gently on her face. 

 “But we must put the past behind us. You must promise me. No more searching for him. Let him go.”

 “Yes. That’s what he made me promise.” She was reminded of another promise she had broken and another pang stabbed her already distressed heart.

[theokotrain]

Vestige - Interlude: The Party

Wattpad Version

As the night fills the sky

All my fears are dissipating

'Cause I feel reassured

That I might make it through

And if all my luck should burn

Then I guess it burned for you

---

April 13th, 2012

I was sitting on my bed, back against the bed frame with my knees raised in front of me, holding up my laptop. I had been spending the last few hours writing an essay for my English class, specifically answering the topic question my teacher had given everybody: "How do our past experiences influence our decisions?". The question was simple enough, it's a pretty universally recognized idea that stuff that happens to us has an effect on our decision making. I mean, that's what it means to grow, right? You gain more knowledge as you live through life and form new memories, and that helps you make more informed decisions in the future.

I've never really been too good at writing anything analytical, especially non-fiction. Essays and research papers that required informed arguments that helped to prove your point? Those were an entirely unknown game to me, one which I had never managed to breeze through. Of course, we were supposed to use some of the books we've read this year as evidence for our arguments, so that at least made it a bit easier, even if most of the books were ones from nearly five decades ago and definitely out of touch at this point. The sound of my laptop's keys clicking as I typed away were the only sounds I could pick up in the room. I had my earphones in for a bit, but those always hurt my ears after a while, so I had taken them out.

Looking at the time in the corner of my laptop screen, it was 4:43 PM. I started writing as soon as I got home from class, so I've only been going for about an hour. Unfortunately, this essay is a non-insignificant amount of my course grade, so I needed to finish this as soon as possible.

God, it's a Friday! I could be out doing something actually fun with Shae and the other guys. Isn't that the whole point of high school? That's what it always seemed like in movies, at least, but I guess I've been a victim of false advertising.

After a bit more time passes, the sound of my phone ringing from my desk brings me out of my writing trance. I sigh, setting my laptop next to me on the bed, not wanting to get out of bed, but eventually forcing myself into maneuvering over to the desk, I grab the phone and flip it open, looking to see the Caller ID.

Shaela.

I instantly accept the call, it's almost second nature at this point. She calls me at least once a day so she can tell me about whatever person is pissing her off that day, or whatever drama she's heard from her other friends. I was never really one for gossip, or whatever, but I did appreciate talking to her.

I put the phone up to my ear, "What's up?" I say, a tinge of fatigue in my voice.

"Hey! Just warning you that I'm like five minutes from your place and you don't have a say in the matter." She replied bluntly. I can hear the sound of cars driving by on the other side of the phone, so she's obviously outside, confirming her words.

I take a deep breath before speaking, "...Why?" I said with exasperated sarcasm.

"Because! I have something to tell you, and if I say it over the phone then I seriously doubt it'll work out in the way I'm hoping it does."

"That clears up nothing, actually, and now I regret picking up."

"Even if you didn't answer, that doesn't stop your parents from letting their son's lovely goody-two-shoes of a friend stop by for a visit!" She exclaimed, a mischievous tone subtly layered in her voice.

She's not wrong.

"Wow, you make this sound like you're sneaking into a high-security building or something." I say, utterly confused at her motives. "Obviously you can come over, but I'm not exactly filled with confidence at whatever you're planning."

"Like I said, I can't tell you yet, but it's gonna be awesome!" She said. There was an unusual perkiness to her that made itself pretty clear over the phone.

Before I can say anything, I'm met with the dial tone, signalling that she had hung up. The only thing I can do at this point is wait for her to get here, I guess. She always lets herself in when she comes over, so I don't make the effort to meet her downstairs. A sudden ping sound fills the quiet room, seeming to come from my laptop. I get back into bed, looking to see where the notification came from.

It's a message from Tyler.

He's definitely the newest member of our little group, if even that. I'm the only person in the group that he's actually friends with so far, despite my efforts to bring him along on any plans we all make. I only met the Grey Wolf back in February, at the beginning of the second semester, in the school's photography class. Nobody I knew signed up for it, and due to our prestigious high school's advanced budget for technology, we were forced to be paired up for shared computer use in the Photography Room. I suppose Tyler was also fortunate enough to not know anybody in the class, as we ended up being paired together by the teacher. He was definitely someone I could only describe as uninterested, as the first week or two I spent with him in that class consisted of him either giving me one word answers or answering in the most blunt, bored tone he could manage. Though, it seemed that it took a bit of persistence on my part to push him to be more open, and since then he's grown to be a pretty great friend.

Tyler: u goin to that party tonight ive been hearin about?

Party? I wasn't made aware of anything like that, at least... not yet. Something in the back of my brain was telling me that Shae had ulterior motives about coming to my place so suddenly, but I'm still hoping that I'm wrong. I hate parties.

Jake: party? havent heard anything, are u going?

Tyler: thinkin about it

think its gonna be over at chris's place, guess his parents r gone for the weekend or somethin

Jake: chrisssss? ughh that guy is such an asshole

Tyler: yeah u dont havee to go, but itd prob be more fun to have someone u actually know there

The way he worded that was directed at me, but I could tell he didn't want to go on his own.

Jake: i guess ill think about it

Tyler: sickk, call me if u make up ur mind

Before I can type my farewells over IM, Shaela energetically bursts through the door.

"Jesus! You scared the shit outta me, don't you knock?" I said, mildly exasperated.

"Oh come on, I literally called you a few minutes ago, you had plenty of time to not make a situation where it'd be a bad idea for me to barge in," She replies, laughing, before setting her bag on the ground and dramatically falling into my bed. "Today was garbage."

"What happened?"

"Ugh, Claire decided to just not show up, I guess, on the day we're supposed to present that stupid History project? And, obviously, she didn't give me her part of the project or anything, so I had tell Mr Thomas about the situation, which was fucking embarrassing." She paused for a moment, taking a deep breath. "Luckily, he said he wouldn't reduce my grade for handing it in late, since I actually had my part finished. God, what a bitch- I must've called her like thirty times before class to get her to email me her part, and every time it went straight to voicemail - and she told me last night that she'd have it ready for today!"

"Have you gotten a hold of her yet?" I asked, closing my laptop and setting it beside me.

Shae turns her head to me, shaking her head, "Nope, she's been ghosting me all day."

"Sounds like typical Claire."

"Yeah, I shouldn't have partnered with her, but apparently I can't say no to anyone, so..." I chuckle lightly in response. "Anyways! I didn't just come here to complain to you!" She says, sitting up on the bed, now facing towards me.

"Right... So what was so important that you just had to tell me in person?" I say, sarcastically.

"Like I said, if I asked you over the phone you would've definitely said no, and my ability to pressure you into doing things isn't as effective unless it's in person!" She responded.

I subtly rolled my eyes, but it's clear she noticed from the stare-down she gave me, "Okay, so what is it?"

"Soooooo..." She says, trying to find the rest of the words, "There's a party."

Wow.

"Wh- did everybody know about that party except for me?!?" I exclaimed.

Shaela's face quickly turns to an expression of shock, "Who told you?"

"Tyler did, like, not even five minutes ago." I say, bluntly.

"What? How does he know Chris?"

"Friend-of-a-friend, I'm guessing?"

"Hmm..." She hummed, thinking about something, "So, did you tell him you were going?"

"I specifically said I'd think about it, nothing definite." I made it clear in my tone that I wasn't particularly interested.

"Oh, come on, dude! It'll be fun!"

I didn't really have an interest in going, but I know it'd make Shae happy, plus it'd be nice to hang out with Tyler again even if we've only known each other for a couple months.

"...Fine. But, if Chris or any of his buddies start shit, I'm leaving."

"Awesome!"

"Lemme just call Tyler and let him know," I said as I grabbed my phone and flipped it open, finding Tyler in my contact list and dialling.

"You gonna bring him with-" The phone rings a few times before he picks up and I extend my hand out towards Shae in a shushing motion. She rolls her eyes, smirking.

"Hey? So are ya gonna go?" He said eagerly.

"Well, Shae showed up at my door literally right after you messaged me, asking the same thing!" I exclaimed in a fake-preppy voice. "So, I guess I have no choice since she'll probably just drag me there if I say no," I joked. She nods her head toward me in response.

"Oh, is she going too?" He inquired.

"Yeah, I guess so! Your place is kinda on the way to Chris', so we could probably meet you at your place and go from there."

"Yeah! Sounds good!" He quickly responded.

I laughed, "Okay, we'll call you when we get there?"

"Sure thing!"

We exchanged our farewells, and hung up. The party wasn't for at least another hour or two, so Shae and I had some time to burn, of which I was entirely out of ideas. I figured I could at least spend this time actually being productive, so I grabbed my laptop and continued on writing my English essay as Shae resumed her previous conversation topic of stuff at school that was pissing her off. It was pretty entertaining, to be fair. She was telling me about how Chris had gotten in a fight with this other kid in our grade yesterday after class, which I wasn't lucky enough to witness, but it was obviously all anyone would talk about for basically the entire day today so word spread around fast. The part I hadn't heard about was that both Chris and the other guy, Nathan, got suspended for a week because of it. Chris was generally an asshole to everybody, including myself, so I didn't feel too bad about that. Although, I didn't know Nathan all that well. Other than having a few classes together, I don't think I've ever held an actual conversation with the guy. I think it was safe to assume that Chris was the one who started it, and Shae seemed to agree with me, even though she hadn't seen the fight either.

"But, apparently Nathan's gonna show up tonight!" She exclaimed coyly.

"...Remind me again why you want me to go to this specific party?"

"You'll have a great time! It's not like we'll be involved in the drama anyway so think of it more as entertainment!"

"I think you and I have different definitions of the word 'entertainment'," I joked.

"I'm sure you can go run off somewhere with Tyler if you're not having fun," She said, her tone reminding me of my mom.

"Oh yeah? What about you?"

"I can't just leave Alex at a party with Chris, those two start shit between each other so much and I'd rather not deal with the aftermath of that today."

"I'm guessing it's safe to assume that Elliot's going too, then?"

"He's not big on parties, but he'll usually go if everyone else is, unlike somebody," She says, gesturing towards me.

"Good one," I reply, unmoving as I keep typing away at my assignment.

"Well, we should probably leave soon since we're stopping at Tyler's place on the way.

I saved the document I had been working on, closing my laptop. "Sounds good to me!"

---

"I can't believe you actually agreed to go." Tyler joked as we walked towards the road from his house.

"Yeah, me either." I replied. I definitely didn't put in any effort in dressing up for the party, opting for a snug space-themed graphic tee, along with black jeans and a white zip-up hoodie. Shae and Tyler both stand on opposite sides of me as we walk down the sidewalk.

"Luckily I learned the subtle techniques in convincing you to do things against your better judgement, so now you get to have fun for once!" Shae exclaimed.

"It's not my fault that going to a party is literally the last thing on earth I'd do for fun in any normal situation." I retorted, putting my hands in the pockets of my jacket.

"Oh yeah? And what do you consider a 'normal situation'?" Shae asks.

"Any situation where you guys aren't the ones trying to get me to go! I'm only doing this for you two, y'know." I said, looking over at both of them.

"What about Elliot and Alex?" Tyler chimed in.

"They aren't the ones asking me to go to this party." I sarcastically remarked, trying to keep the conversation light-hearted. "Speaking of the party- this is Chris we're talking about, there's gonna be beer, right?"

"Uh, duh?" Shae replied.

"Yeah, that's a definite no for me, I'm already enough of a disappointment to my parents,"

"No one's making you drink, Jake. At least you'd be safe if some old hag called the cops about the noise." Shae said.

"I think at that point we're guilty by association, so we'd just make a run for it if that happens," Tyler joked.

"Dude, the chance of me outrunning a police officer successfully is about as likely as me not wanting to punch Chris tonight."

"And the chance of you winning that fight is just as low!" Shae retorted, Tyler laughing in response.

"I specifically said 'want' because of that very reason!"

"Wow, I'd pay money to see you fight that guy." Tyler said, nudging his elbow into my side.

It isn't a secret that I'm not exactly athletic. I mean, I'm definitely not weak, but fighting basically any animal of a similar size to mine was not a situation that favoured my victory.

"That sounds more like just getting the shit kicked outta me for your entertainment." I remarked, lightly punching Tyler's shoulder in return.

"Absolutely worth every penny!" Shae exclaimed. Luckily, the place wasn't any more than ten minutes away from Tyler's place, so I didn't have to endure listening to these two talk about me getting beat up for much longer.

We finally make it to Chris' house, and I'm suddenly filled with an impending sense of regret. Obviously, my parents would never in a million years agree to me going to a party like this. As far as they know, I'm just spending the evening hanging out with Shae at Tyler's house. So yeah, this entire night had a lot of potential for disaster.

Shae can clearly see my hesitation, because she grabs my hand, leading me up the walkway, Tyler following closely behind.

"I wonder if Elliot and Alex beat us here?" She says, knocking on the front door.

"I doubt they had anything to do earlier, hell they probably came straight here after school, knowing Alex." I said, laughing.

Our conversation is cut short by the opening door, revealing the familiar black cat.

"Oh, look, the Stephenson kid brought his girlfriend!" Chris exclaimed mockingly, looking back into the house, before peering around my shoulder, "And... Tyler?" He said, inquisitively.

I lean over, blocking Tyler from his line of sight, "Yeah, hey, not dating by the way!" I said. I've known Shae since I first moved to Vestige, around the time I turned five years old, so it wasn't uncommon for rumours to go around that we were dating. I've always thought of her more as a sister, if anything.

"I asked them to come!" Tyler said. That was only partly true, but according to Tyler, they've been 'somewhat-friends' for quite a while now, so saying that would at least mean less mild-harassment from Chris for tonight.

"Oh, uh, okay... come on in! But you're on the hook for any shit they pull, Tyler!" He said, opening the door wider.

---

The party had been going on for a few hours at this point. I could recognize most of the animals here from school, but not enough to actually hold a conversation with any of them, so most of my time here had just been spent with Shae and Tyler. The place hasn't been incredibly crowded luckily, but there were easily about forty others in this part of the house alone. I'm assuming only high school grades were invited, but there were a considerable number of students to meet that requirement. The issue at hand for me, other than how crowded this place is, is that both Shae and Tyler ditched me to go... somewhere? I think Shae saw some of her friends and went somewhere with them, but Tyler was pretty secretive about where he was going, only telling me that he'd be back in a bit. So I've been standing here in this random corner of the house with a drink in hand, trying to make myself look busy and not awkward, which is exactly why I didn't want to go to this party in the first place!

"Jake!" A voice shouted from a ways away.

I turn my head in confusion, revealing Alex, walking towards me from across the room.

"Oh, Alex! Hey! What's up dude!" I finish the last bit of my soda, waving at him. Because this was Chris' party, there was obviously beer too, but I didn't feel like coming home drunk and my parents finding out.

"I didn't think you'd wanna come to something like this! Feeling the regret yet?"

"I like parties! It's the times like these when I'm standing in a corner by myself with nothing to do that I hate, which seems to happen every time I go to a party!" I exclaimed, pausing for a moment. "Okay, maybe I do hate parties- I've had to explain this so many times today I'm about ready to jump into Lake Ambuscade."

' "Wow, sounds like somebody needs to socialize instead of stewing in a corner for the rest of the night!"

"Socialize? Really? I know just about everybody here and just about none of them are worth talking-"

"Hang with me and Elliot, then? Justin set up some racing games in the other room, we were gonna join, but we could use a fourth... You in?" He said, his tone obviously trying to sound coercing.

"God, please, anything to get me out of this corner for the next three hours." I said, Alex returning my words with a laugh.

"Well, come on then! We'll have to hurry if we want to get one of the good controllers!" He exclaimed, motioning to follow him.

As we move through the various cliques, I recognize a few faces here and there, though not enough to actually want to talk to them. There's been music playing since we got here, and I have yet to recognize a single song, they all seem to be some form of drone-y bass-heavy music that I can't say I've heard in any normal situations. I'm doing my best to follow Alex, although he keeps weaving between the other animals faster than I can keep up, resulting in me having to shove past everyone near me in an effort to speed myself up. Luckily, it seems that no one notices me anyway.

When we arrive in the other room, it seems to just be another living room, but decorated with a galore of punk band posters, shelves holding more DVD cases than I would ever care to count, and even a mini-fridge. Maybe Chris is the type to have a 'man cave' or something? Just hearing that phrase almost makes me want to vomit, but there aren't any more accurate words that come to mind. The room isn't massive or anything, but the TV resting upon the wall across the room seems to challenge that idea, looking almost eighty inches in size. Luckily no randoms from the party were in here, sitting about ten feet away from the TV is Elliot, leaning back in a purple bean bag chair that seems almost three times bigger than him, and Justin, the cougar I'd only known slightly through Alex, laying down sideways on the couch directly in front of the gigantic screen.

"Whatttt! You took the bean bag chair? Lameee..." Alex whined.

"You're the one who wanted to go get Jake, you snooze you lose!" Elliot retorted, looking oddly proud of himself.

"Damn, wish I had a room like this at my house..." I mumbled, looking around the room.

"Are we gonna play or what?" Justin said, cutting through the momentary silence.

"Duh!" Alex claimed.

Justin sits up, taking the spot on the couch closest to Elliot. I opt for the leftmost seat, and Alex sits in-between the both of us. Elliot grabs the other three controllers and tosses them over at us, one by one. Luckily, there weren't any garbage third-party controllers, so at least none of us would have to deal with that. I will admit, it did feel kinda weird going to someone's party just to play games away from everybody, but I would be lying if I said I didn't prefer that, even though I rarely play games, if ever.

After Justin turns the console on, he goes through the menus, launching the game. I can't say I recognize the title, but it seems to be a pretty standard racing game. He goes into the custom mode, opting for a four-player split-screen match, choosing 'R1' as the category of cars to race in. As everyone chooses their cars, I scroll through the list, not really knowing what to pick. I've never been good with car stuff, so I pick an 'Aston Martin Lola' just based on the number-rating system the game ranks the cars with.

"You guys ready?" Justin asks.

"Oh yeah, get ready to eat my dust you guys!" Elliot exclaims, challengingly.

"Oddly prideful words for someone about to lose!" Alex replies, laughing.

The countdown begins, as the cameras slowly show the view of each car as it moves to the rear. When it starts, I somehow manage the fuckup of spinning my tires out, leaving me a few seconds behind the others as the car swerves back and forth. I curse under my breath as I try to regain control of the car, and swiftly pick up speed. The track seems like nothing I haven't seen before, a typical professional track, with rows and rows of audience seating to the side. Unfortunately, I'm now in last place. The next few moments of the track are a few quick corners, allowing me the chance to catch up, at least a little.

Unexpectedly, the track turns off of the main road, going into a forested area. The road is considerably more narrow at this point, so it takes a conscious effort to not drive into the trees by the asphalt. It looks like the road stretches on forever, as I still can't make out any upcoming turns. I guess the car I chose for the race had a better top speed than Justin's, as I'm quickly catching up to him, moving into third place. I'm gripping my controller to an uncomfortable degree, but I can't seem to relax the tension as I try to make my way into second place. I don't think I can pick up any more speed in this car, so me moving up is reliant on the road staying straight for just a bit longer. After what feels like a lifetime, the front of my car finally starts making it past Elliot's, then the midsection, and finally, I'm in second. The sound of all four car engines is drowning out any remnants of the video game music, and I feel the sudden urge to curse out whoever turned the TV volume up this high. My eyes are focused entirely on Alex's car as I make my final push into first place. If I were actually driving this fast in the real world, I'd be scared out of my fucking mind. Out of nowhere, Alex, and the others, begins to slow down considerably.

Oh fuck.

It's at that point I notice that there is a sharp right turn rapidly approaching. I've been pushing the top-speed of this car since the beginning of this stretch of road, and now I'm going too quickly to stop in time. What's the button to use the handbrake, again? I figure that the only way for me to not fuck up this race for myself is to try to drift around the corner. Considering I've never played this game before, it's going to prove to be a challenge. But, it's either that, or just ending up in dead-last again.

I hold down the A button, and pull the joystick as far to the right as possible. Suddenly, all I can hear from the game is the loud skidding sounds of my tires against the asphalt. To my surprise, I cut the corner a bit early, now going over the grass. I try to do a bit of directional-corrections and start heading back onto the track. Going over the grass definitely slowed me down a fair bit, but it definitely was a significantly better outcome over just crashing into the wall. And, to my surprise, the corner of my screen reads... first?!?

"How the fuck...?" Alex questions, seemingly in disbelief.

"I wish I could tell you." I replied, eyes wide at whatever the fuck just happened.

The distance I managed to gain on Alex isn't by a whole lot, but there's only about a quarter of the track left before we reach the finish line, so I have a chance at winning this. The track hurriedly changes from the forest as it reenters the main track. The long, straight roads seem to end as the road becomes a slow series of sharp turns, never giving me the opportunity to get back up to speed. It seems like the high top speed was my only advantage, because at every corner we take, I turn my camera around, revealing the other cars inching closer and closer to me.

I can see the finish line on the mini-map, just a few more turns away. I know that I'm not gonna be able to distance myself from Alex and the others at this point, so my only feasible strategy is to keep moving, cutting the corners as fast as I can, and getting to the finish line before they can pass me. Unfortunately, Alex's car seems to be getting too close for comfort now, meaning I might have to take some risks to ensure I can stay in first. As we approach the final turn, leading into the finish line, I realise I'm gonna have to try to drift this corner. I can feel my pointer finger practically cracking the plastic on the controller from the amount of pressure I'm putting on the right trigger. In a final plea to win, I push down on the A button, pulling the handbrake. The car starts to smoothly skid around the corner. Luckily, there are barriers on the sides of the road this time, preventing me from sliding onto the grass. To my surprise, the drift seems to work better than expected. That is, until, like the fucking idiot I am, make a slight overcorrection towards the left barriers as I exit the drift. I managed to avoid driving directly into the wall, but it did slow me down a bit.

Alex is immediately behind me, and I put all of my strength into accelerating towards the finish line. I'd be fucked if I broke the controller, cause I can't really afford the fifty dollars to buy a new one, but winning this race is more important to me at the moment. The finish line is only about five-hundred metres away, and Alex is slowly beginning to pass. All I can do at this point is push the gas as much as I can, and pray that I can cross the finish line before he can get back into first place. The finish line gets closer and closer, and it seems like it's gonna be too close for me to accurately tell the winner. I can feel my heart pounding in my chest from how stressful this fucking game has been, and now, we're about to find out whose efforts paid off. As each car makes its way over the finish line, each of our dedicated sections of the screen turns to slow motion. When it's finally over, the text fades in on each screen, revealing our place...

...

...

...Second?!?

"FUCK!" I shouted, realising I had been holding my breath since the final stretch of the race.

"HA! Dude, you suck!" Alex exclaimed, playfully shoving me.

"I think that was the most effort I've put into anything in my life." I said, setting my controller on the coffee table in front of me.

"Wow, that's dramatic," Justin remarked.

"Yeah, that's the usual for Jake," Elliot replied, laughing.

"You probably woulda won if you picked a better car, dude. That track was way too close-quarters so you should've gone with a car with better acceleration." Alex said.

"Wha- do you own this game?" I questioned, looking accusatory.

"...Yeah? It came out a few months ago, pretty popular right now." He replied.

"Ugh, this is what I get for playing with a bunch of gamers." I exclaimed, applying a disgusted tone to the last word.

"Not my fault you only play like one game a month!" Alex joked.

"Even then, I was like this close to beating you anyway!" I said, gesturing a minuscule distance between my thumb and pointer finger.

A voice interrupts our argument, coming from right outside the room, "Uh huh...

...

Really? That's bullshit! Come on...

...

Dude, give me a couple of days, I'll make it right!

...

Yeah, I swear."

It seems that we all stopped talking to listen in at the same time. "That sounds like Tyler... who's he arguing with?" Elliot asked. I can't make out the voice of whoever he's talking to, it just sounds like mumbling.

They seem to pause for a moment, and the sound of a single set of footsteps can be heard.

"Fuck..." Tyler says to himself, still out of view.

"...I should probably see what's up, you guys can keep playing without me." I say, getting up from my spot on the couch.

"Yeah, you do that! Less competition for me," Alex exclaims, laughing to himself.

"Hey, I can still beat your ass at this game, I know exactly which car to pick this time!" Elliot argued.

"Yeah, right! Guess we'll find out!"

I leave as the three start up another game, kind of glad I don't have to have another near-heart attack from playing again. When I get back into the dimly-lit hallway, Tyler is nowhere to be seen.

I look around, heading into the main room of the house to see if I can spot him. It's pretty difficult to see anything, because of how dim it is here, plus the sheer amount of animals crowding up the place. Despite that, I manage to spot the Grey Wolf a ways away, hurrying quickly into the bathroom.

As I shove my way through a few groups of teens, I almost fall over a few times, gaining confused stares from a few in the room. I lightly knock on the bathroom door, waiting for a response, "Hey, you okay Tyler?" After a few moments, I'm returned with no answer, "...Tyler-" Before I can finish my sentence, Tyler swiftly pulls open the bathroom door, pulling me in and shutting the door behind me, before sitting down on the side of the bathtub. As I'm about to say something, I hear the sound of him sniffling.

...Is he crying?

He's looking towards the floor, so I can't confirm it visually, but the sound definitely gives it away.

"Whoa, what's wrong? Did something happen?" I asked worriedly, not yet choosing to bring up the argument we overheard.

There's a few seconds of silence as he tries to bring himself together, not very successfully. "I- I... I don't- I don't think I can-"

"It's fine, you don't have to tell me if you don't want to," I tried to reassure him. He raises his head for a moment to look at me, trying to find words to say, instead opting to go back to crying, head in his hands. I've never been good with situations like this, so I sit down next to him, putting my hand on his upper back, softly patting.

"I'm sorry- I'm a fucking idiot. I shouldn't have asked you to come."

"Hey! I've been having fun! Don't worry about me, it seems like you're the one who shouldn't have come." I joke, in some effort to lighten the mood.

Shit, was that inconsiderate of me to say?

To my surprise, he manages to let out a light laugh, "Yeah, I'm starting to realise that."

"...Do you wanna leave, then? They know I didn't want to go here in the first place, so you could just say you're being nice and walking me home." I didn't know if he would actually take up that offer, but I know some guys have a weird thing about not wanting to seem 'uncool' and leaving a party early was definitely considered that.

He thinks for a moment, still sniffling pretty noticeably. "...okay, just- give me a minute, I don't want to go out there looking like this." He mumbles, looking towards the door.

"Yeah, that's fine." I said, continuing to rub around his neck area.

This definitely wasn't how I expected the night to go. But it was a sort of 'two-birds-with-one-stone' kind of situation. I get to help out Tyler, which is usually the other way around, I get to leave early, and hopefully Shae stops bugging me about going to parties, at least for a while.

Now that I think about it, that analogy is pretty messed up.

A few silent minutes go by as I sit next to the still-crying Tyler, waiting for him to recollect himself. Even though he hasn't actually said anything here, in the two months I've known him, this is probably the most vulnerable I've ever seen him. When I first met him, it was pretty accurate to describe him as the kind of guy who acts like he never feels emotion. Hell, even I refuse to be open about my feelings, but most of my friends see through that nowadays. Even now, I don't really understand why I do that. I guess it's just easier to not talk about shit like that? Is that why Tyler does it?

"I think I'm good now," He said, shaking his hands as he stood up.

"Okay, let's get out of this dumpster fire." I sarcastically remarked. Tyler shot me a confused look in return. "Whatever, let's just go."

I open the bathroom door, grabbing his arm as I lead him out into the main room. Almost immediately the voice of a certain black cat perks up behind us.

"Oh? And what did you two get up to in there?" Chris remarked, laughing, "I didn't know you guys were THAT kind of friends!"

God damnit. This stupid fucking feline.

"Yeah, it's too loud out here for me, I needed a break, he came with." I explained, Tyler standing closely behind me with a confused look on his face. Just roll with it, dude, I think to myself, knowing I probably shouldn't say that out loud.

"You know, I would believe that, but normal guys actually just go outside when they need a break." He replied.

"Well, hey! That's where we're going right now, so it all checks out!" I say in the bitchiest voice I can muster.

"Heh, sure thing, Jake." He said, sounding weirdly satisfied with himself. I didn't want to spend any more time in this fucking house than I needed to, especially while talking to Chris, so I continue on, pulling Tyler by the hand towards the exit. After a few moments, we make it to the front door. I promptly open it and we both head outside.

We're immediately greeted by the light of the moon and the starry sky as we head down the walkway toward the street. One of the few benefits of living in such a backwater town was the absence of any significant light pollution. I've been to Portland a few times for school field trips and such, and seeing the sheer difference in visible stars was absolutely staggering. I could only imagine what it would be like to go stargazing in the middle of nowhere.

"At least it's a nice night out." I said.

"Yeah..." Tyler replied, his mind clearly in a completely different place.

"I should probably tell Shae where we went, so she doesn't freak out trying to find us back there." I joked, pulling out my cell phone. Texting on my flip phone was an arduous task, but I didn't want to call her, so I had not much of a choice.

I send the text, and close my phone, returning it to my pocket. As we walk down the road, we stew in the silence, the only auditory sounds coming from the party still close by, and the local crickets chirping.

I won't lie, as much as I usually appreciate quiet, this is the loudest silence I've ever been stuck in. It goes on for more than five minutes. I could tell he wanted to say something, and I was eager to find out whatever was going on that started this in the first place. But, like the coward I am, I try to lighten the mood.

"Hopefully that satisfied your quota of me going to parties with you for a while, cause I do not plan on having the energy for something like that again for at least a few months." I said, awkwardly laughing. He doesn't respond, at least for a while, as he raises his hand, scratching the back of his neck nervously. "...Uhh, are you sure you don't wanna talk about it? I mean-"

"Can I tell you something?" He interrupted, his voice still cracking like it was in the bathroom.

"...Sure?" I replied, slightly confused.

"It's just that- I don't really know- like what-"

"-to say? Just think for a minute. No rush." That's what my dad always says whenever my mind spirals. I used to be really anxious, although I've been getting better at controlling my thoughts in the past few years.

When I went to text Shae a few minutes ago, my phone's clock read 9:48 PM. I'm supposed to be home at ten and we're still at least twenty minutes away, not even including the detour we'll take to get to Tyler's place. Which brings me to the realisation that, when we get to his house, I'm gonna have to walk the rest of the way home by myself, in the dark. If I get murdered by some serial killer this late at night I'm gonna fucking haunt Shae from the afterlife-

"I think I'm gay," He quickly says, his voice holding a noticeable increase in energy compared to what I've been used to tonight.

Well... can't say that's exactly what I was expecting. Was I expecting anything in particular? I honestly don't know anymore. His words took me by surprise, my brain is kind of scrambled right now. I look over at him - he's looking back at me, probably trying to gauge my reaction. I did my best to conceal any facial reaction, but it's pretty clear that my lack of a response is starting to become noticeable.

"...You... think?"

"Well, like- I don't know. I guess I've just been thinking for a while, and it makes sense... all things considered." He replied anxiously.

"That- That's great! Does anyone else know?"

"I only really realised a few weeks ago, so... no. But compared to anyone else, I probably trust you the most to not like- tell anyone?" He said, looking over at me again.

"Well, I appreciate the completely undeserved confidence you have in me," I joked, realising too late that now probably isn't the time for that, "Yeah, I promise I won't tell anyone."

"Thank you," He replies, a genuine smile strewn across his face.

A few minutes go by as we walk down the road, absorbing the positive energy we created. Having only known Tyler for a little over two months, it definitely surprised me knowing that he trusted me more than anyone else to keep a secret like that... I mean, despite the short amount of time since I met him, I'm as close to him as I've been to Shaela for the past eight years. Maybe even closer? I barely even tell Shae about my actual problems, at least the non-surface level stuff. So yeah, I guess it makes sense that he would trust me with something so important, I know I would absolutely trust him if it were me in that situation.

"...So, do you think you're gonna tell your dad?"

He didn't say anything for a moment as he stared down at the ground beneath him, "I'll probably have to tell him soon, if he has to find out from some asshole that isn't me it'd make it ten times more difficult than if I just said it myself."

I agreed, and we let the conversation cut itself off as we finally approached Tyler's house. I followed him up the walkway and stood on the patio, making sure he actually got inside. He tries the doorknob eagerly, to no avail. Realising that it was locked, he reaches into his pocket for his key - again, to no avail.

"You've gotta be fucking kidding me," Tyler mumbled under his breath, clearly done with tonight. All of the lights were off in the house, signalling that his dad was not awake.

"Maybe you'll wake him up if you knock? Then he can let you in."

"Nonono, he thinks I'm staying at your place! If he finds out I went to a party I'm in deep shit," He whispered.

Of course. If I had to lie to my parents, why would I expect anything different from anyone else?

"Okay, uhh... maybe we can make that lie... not a lie?" I said, sounding weirder than I'd like.

Tyler looked at me, confused for a moment, eyes widening as he realised what I meant, "I can't let you do that, I've already forced you through too much shit tonight."

"Oh, come on, of course you can sleep at my place for the night! My parents think I'm at your house right now, so I can just tell them that we both went over there early in the morning. They love you anyway, so it won't be a problem!"

He didn't move at all, still looking reluctant, "Are you sure it won't be... weird? I don't want to put you in an awkward situation cause of w- what I told you."

"Dude, that couch in my room has a hide-a-bed if you don't want to share mine. Either way, we're friends, aren't we? I trust you."

After a few moments of silence, he speaks up, "...I guess so-"

"Great, then it's settled!" I said, putting my arm around his shoulder as I led him back down the walkway.

---

Once we make it to my place, walk up the creaky wooden steps of my patio as I fish the house key out of my pocket. Tyler's standing closely behind me, looking awkward as ever, clearly not knowing what to do with his hands as he switches between putting them in his pockets and clasping them together.

I turn the key on the lock and try the door, noticing that It's completely pitch black inside the house. My parents usually go to bed at 10 PM, and it was well past that at this point. I lock the door behind us as I reach for my pocket, grabbing my phone and flipping it open to use as a barely-useful flashlight. I take Tyler's wrist as I lead him through the furniture of my living room and up the stairs. The only sounds in the house come from the soft ticking of a clock in the kitchen, the sound of which has always freaked me out whenever I'd come downstairs at three in the morning. Despite my best efforts to be as quiet as possible, the old wooden boards of the stairs prove my effort to be futile as they creak with every step. I can only hope that both of my parents have fallen asleep by now, or else they'd definitely have heard us. As I take Tyler down the hallway, walls strung with various family photos and art fit for a motel, I hear no sounds coming from the master bedroom, relaxing some of my tension.

Once we make it to my room, I breathe a sigh of relief as I turn on the overhead light, hoping my mom doesn't find out and try to lecture me in the morning, "Okay, hide-a-bed or mine, your choice!"

"Hide-a-bed." He replies.

"Sure thing, lemme show you how to set it up," I say as I remove each couch cushion one by one. The couch is sitting directly under my massive bedroom window, illuminated by the glow of the moon. Under the cushions is a black folded-up contraption, bearing a metal handle. I grab the handle and start pulling the bed out from the couch. As the first section of the bed comes out, Tyler stands next to me and helps unfold the second section, and finally the third.

I move over to open the closet door, "I have some spare pillows and blankets in here."

"So, why do you have a spare bed... thingy... in your room anyway?" He asked.

"My cousins' family came to visit from the other side of the country a few years back, so my parents made the cousins stay in my room and gave me our old couch that used to be in the living room. They were here for like two weeks, it was fucking awful," I remarked, pulling a comforter out of the closet and unfolding it out on the mattress.

"That sounds miserable," Tyler sympathized.

"It was, but hey, now I got a sick as fuck couch in my room! And it works as a great place for certain friends to sleep when they wanna spend the night," I said sarcastically, looking over at Tyler as I grabbed the pillows from the closet, tossing them to one end of the bed.

He turned his head, baffled, "Was that a dig on me?" He questioned.

"Depends on how you took it I suppose," I replied, smiling cunningly.

"You're the one who offered, dude- are you sure you didn't drink at the party? You've at least doubled your usual level of sarcasm." He retorted.

"Nope, unless somebody spiked my soda!" I joked, but the realisation slowly set in, "Oh shit- maybe someone spiked my soda?!?"

"Don't freak out, I seriously doubt someone would spike your drink,"

"God, I hope so, if my parents found out I went to that party, that'd be one thing, but if I got drunk? I doubt I'd see the outside world for months," I sighed.

"Even if you were drunk, it's not like you would still be drunk in the morning for them to find out, anyway."

"Yeah, I guess you're right," I said, letting out a yawn shortly thereafter. "Fuck, I didn't realise how tired I am." Looking at my alarm clock, it was 10:37 PM. That wasn't terribly late, I've definitely stayed up later when there was an assignment due the next day that I forgot about, but even before I met up with Alex and Elliot, that party was just wearing me down. "At least I can sleep in 'till like noon tomorrow. You sure you don't need anything before I pass out from exhaustion?"

"No, I'm okay, I think. And, thank you... Jake." He replied, smiling at me.

"No problem, dude!" I quietly exclaimed as I turned off the bedroom lights and hopped into bed. I can practically feel my muscles dissolve as I lean into the mattress, pulling the heavy blankets over me as I close my eyes.

I can't help but feel something itching in the back of my brain. I never did find out why Tyler was even crying back at the party. Was it related to what he told me after? He sounded pretty upset when he was talking to whoever it was in the hallway, too, so maybe that was why? We've already talked about so much shit tonight, though, and I definitely did not have the energy to have another huge conversation about something like that. It could definitely wait until tomorrow.

Soon, I feel my consciousness drift away, the only sound I can make out being the slow breathing of Tyler, across the room.

---

As I wake up, I'm blinded by the bright sun shining in through my windows, directly into my eyes. I glance over at my alarm clock, feeling incredibly groggy and sore, noticing that it's 11:13 AM. Usually, the latest I'd sleep in on weekends was only around ten, but I guess it took a lot of my energy yesterday to try to tune the party out. At least it's over.

I slowly sit up, yawning as I lean back against the bed frame. I glanced around the room, noticing that the hide-a-bed had been folded back into the couch, Tyler nowhere to be seen. I reach over to my bedside table to check my phone, finding an unread text from him, sent a few hours ago.

Tyler: hey

woke up early, figured youd want 2 sleep in.

will call u later, might have somthin big i wanna share, will see

A pair of oddly cryptic messages. Guess that confirms he isn't here anymore.

At least it was a Saturday, meaning that I had full permission to be a slob. I get out of bed, deciding to skip my usual shower until after breakfast. Other than the snacks that were out at the party, I ate practically nothing last night. I could almost feel my stomach turning itself inside out, so I hurried out of my room and downstairs to the kitchen to have some breakfast.

The first thing I notice when I get downstairs is my mom, sitting on the couch with a book. I head straight to the kitchen, trying not to make myself stand out.

"Jake! Finally woken up, I see." She remarked, still looking at her book.

"Hey, mom!" There's a moment of silence as I grab a bowl out of the cupboard, as well as a box of cereal, and begin to pour.

She speaks up, "Your friend, Tyler, seemed to be in a hurry to leave this morning, anything I should know about?"

"...Not that I know of? Like what?" I questioned as I poured some milk from the fridge, grabbed a spoon, and sat at the kitchen counter.

"Well, it's not like we didn't notice that you weren't home by ten like your father asked you to be, so obviously you must have a good excuse for why you didn't at least call to let us know you'd be late?" She replied. I could tell when she started talking all responsible-parent-like, it meant that she was gonna lecture me about something.

I sighed, thinking of the right thing to say. "...Well, Tyler was going through some things... so I was trying to help him with that, I guess. Time just kinda flew by and I wasn't able to get home 'till later."

"So he spent the night here? Weren't you at his house?" She asked as I ate a spoonful of cereal.

"Yeah... we went out for a bit and once I noticed how late it was I offered to let him spend the night at our house since it was closer," I said. Almost entirely a lie, but definitely preferable to the truth.

"Jake..." She said, setting her book down on the coffee table in front of the couch, walking over to me, and resting a hand on my shoulder. "You're sixteen now, obviously we don't expect you to tell us everything you're up to nowadays. But we worry about you! I worry about you. Just for future reference, please let us know if you're gonna be home late or anything like that."

"Okay, I'll keep that in mind," I said, looking up at her.

"Great! Now, I have to go meet a friend for lunch, please try not to burn the house down while I'm out!" She said as she grabbed her purse and keys off of the counter, hurring out the door.

"No promises, love you!" I said as she closed the door behind her.

Well, I guess that went... better than expected? I doubt she believed that story I made up, but I guess as long as I don't break curfew without telling them, I should be fine.

Having the house to myself wasn't totally uncommon. Considering my dad was gone during the day five days a week, and my mom would head out to go meet friends or run errands pretty often, I got some much needed alone time often enough to not go mad.

As I finish my bowl of cereal, I realise that I probably should go shower as soon as possible, considering the night I had. I put my bowl and spoon in the dishwasher and head back upstairs. I grab a towel from my room and head into the bathroom, grabbing my various fur care products out of the cabinet for after the shower. As I turn the shower on, I hear the sound of my ringtone going off in the pocket of my pants on the floor. I sigh annoyedly, walking over and trying to figure out which pocket my phone was in. When I flip open the phone, the Caller ID reads out Tyler's name.

"Tyler! What's up?" I ask eagerly, hoping to find out what the news he cryptically texted about was.

"Jake- fuck, I messed up, I shouldn't have- what am I gonna do?" He said anxiously, sounding almost out of breath.

"Hey! Slow down, what's wrong?" I questioned.

"I'm such a fucking idiot! Why did I think this would be a good idea? Jake, I'm so sorry-"

"Tyler! Calm. Down. Just take a few deep breaths," I said. After a few moments, I can hear his breathing steadying on the other side of the call. "Okay, good. Now, what's wrong?"

There's a short pause as he tries to find the right words to say. It sounds like he's been crying. What even the fuck has been the past twenty-four hours?

"Can- do you think I could crash at y- your place for a few more nights? I don't know what to do."

[gamz2311]

Lights Out- An Adam SacklerxReader One-Shot

Written for @kylosupremeimagines and the Valentine’s Day Fic Exchange. I hope you enjoy it! Happy Valentine’s day!!!

Warnings: Cursing

“Adam, we have got to go grocery shopping.” Y/N shouted from the tiny kitchen apartment that she shared with her roommate Adam Sackler. 

“Oh fuck that.” Adam responded from the other room where he was… building something? She couldn’t really tell- all she knew was that it was loud and very annoying. 

“I’ve done the grocery shopping every week for the past three months, it’s your turn!” She said, the annoyance with her roommate clear in her voice. Suddenly the loud banging sound stopped and Adam appeared in the doorway. 

“I know and you’re so good at it. You know if I go I’m getting yogurt and beer. Yogurt and beer only.” He said, giving her a face that she already knew she couldn’t say no to. 

“Alright. Fine.” She said rolling her eyes.

“Kid, this is why you are my best friend and the best roommate.” Adam said gripping her waist with a friendly squeeze. As much as she wanted to stay irritated with him, she knew it wouldn’t last long. She could feel the smile spreading across her face as she looked at Adam. 

Y/N had known Adam almost all of her life. They had done community theatre together as kids and by the time they were teenagers, they were practically inseparable. When Adam left to move to the city, they had stayed in contact, seeing each other when he came home to visit. She had never thought about moving to the city, content with her life in the small town she loved. 

However, that had all changed when she found herself at a crossroads. Her boyfriend of 2 years had dumped her, her job had become monotonous and boring, and most of her family had moved out of the area. One night she called Adam, mainly to complain, when he quickly shut her down.

“If you are so unhappy then do something about it.” He said, leaving her speechless and annoyed.

“What?” Her voice came through the phone harshly and quickly. 

“I said if you are so fucking unhappy then DO SOMETHING ABOUT IT!” He made sure to over emphasize the last few words to really hit his point home. “Your boyfriend was an asshole, also- told you on that one. You’ve always hated your job, and everyone has moved away because where we grew up suckssss.” Y/N sat there on the phone speechless. She knew he was right, but there was no way she was going to admit it. 

“It’s not that simple, Adam.” She started before he interrupted her again.  

“Yes it fucking is. Stop being so dramatic. Want a change? Move to the city. Hell, move in with me. I could definitely use help with the rent.” His response was so blunt that it threw her for a second. 

“Are you serious?” The tone in her voice quickly changed with her response. 

“Hell yeah. It would be fun to be roommates.” And just like that- Y/N found herself leaving the life she had always known to move in with her lifelong friend. It was very surprising to her how easily she adjusted to living in the city. She found a job she liked quickly and settled into the bustling city life. Adam was a great resource, letting her know what she needed to do and what was essential to avoid. 

Being roommates with Adam wasn’t as bad as she thought it might be. Sure, he did random, loud projects at all hours of the night and brought home women pretty frequently, but overall he was respectful of her space and made her feel safe. 

There was really only one weird thing that came from “being roommates” and that was this weird tension that had developed between them. They had fun and things were great, but there seemed to be this draw, some invisible tether that made her want to be close to him. Sure, she had a crush on him as a kid but it was childish and she knew it could never develop into anything. However, there was something about living in these tight quarters, sharing so many domestic moments that made her almost feel those stirrings of desire and love deep inside. 

“So, when are you going shopping? I’m starved.” He said, as she rolled her eyes and slugged him in the shoulder.

“I’ll go tomorrow, ok?” Falling onto the couch, she looked up at him. “Wait, why would you only buy yogurt and beer? You don’t even drink!” 

“See, that's how absolutely shitty I am at shopping kid.” Shrugging, he left the room and within minutes and started his loud project again. “By the way,” he yelled over the jarring sounds of metal hitting wood. “I’m going out with Hannah tonight. Some party at one of her stupid friend’s house.”

“I thought you two weren’t together anymore.” Y/N yelled back, feeling jealousy settle deep in her stomach. 

“We aren’t, but you know…” He started to say, before he was interrupted. 

“I get it. You can stop there.” She knew he was going to say that they still fuck around, and she just couldn’t stomach hearing it again. Making her way to her room, she fell back on the bed. Having no plans of her own, she decided to spend the evening doing what she loves: watching Chris Evans movies and eating the chocolate she had hidden in her bedside drawer so Adam couldn’t get to it. 

She was halfway through Gifted when suddenly the electricity went out. Scrambling out of bed, she grabbed her cellphone.

“Adam? Are you still here?” Y/N called out. Her door had been shut and Adam didn’t always tell her when he was leaving. 

“I’m here! What the fuck happened?” Adam said. She could hear his steps coming closer to her but she still couldn’t see him even with the glow of her cell phone. Within moments he was beside her, his face illuminated by the phone. A towel was wrapped low around his waist as he had clearly just gotten out of the shower. Water glistened off his chest and she could feel her cheeks start to redden. 

“I have no clue.” Her response was quick, trying to move past the moment of temporary awkwardness. They looked at each other for a minute before she turned to her phone, looking for information. He watched as the look of shock spread across her face. “Apparently the whole city is out! Look at this picture of Times Square.” He peered over to her phone screen. 

“Oh damn.” He said in his low, slow voice. “Well it looks like you are stuck with me for the night. I’m not leaving in this mess. I can only imagine how fucking crazy its going to be out there.” He shrugged. “Can I borrow your phone to get to my room so I can put clothes on?”

“Where is yours?” Y/N asked. Adam didn’t really answer, just shrugged. She followed him into his room and handed him her phone. 

“Now- no peeking.” Adam joked and again Y/N was glad that the lack of electricity covered the blush that was now spreading across her body. She rolled her eyes and turned to face the doorway. Within moments he was dressed in shorts and a t-shirt. He handed her back her phone and they stood there. 

“So- what are we going to do?” He asked. 

“Uh- I have a few candles in my room. We could light those in the living room so I can save my phone battery.” She skeptically suggested. Adam seemed to approve of the plan, so within 30 minutes the living room was lit up with candles and the two of them were relaxing on the couch. 

“So…” Y/N said.

“So what?” Adam responded.

“What do you want to do?”

“Well sitting here in silence fucking sucks, lets play a game or something?” He said.

“A game? How old are we?” She teased, elbowing his side. 

“Oh, you prefer the silence? Then by all means let's continue…” He said, stretching his legs out in front of him and closing his eyes. 

“I was teasing! What game do you want to play?” She sat criss-cross on the couch so she could face him. 

“Truth or dare.” He said, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. 

“We aren’t in 9th grade…” She started to say before he interrupted her. 

“You already played the “we are too old to play games” joke- come on- just do it.” 

“Alright, alright.” She said as he turned to face her. They started playing truth or dare, keeping things simple. Before long they were cracking each other up trying to be as goofy as possible. As the night went on they would play truth or dare off and on, their truth and dares getting more and more bold. She couldn’t tell if she was just imagining it, but it seemed like Adam was moving closer and closer to her. His truths and dares seemed to be more risque, making the moment seem more and more intimate. However, it was impossible for things to be too serious with Adam around. 

“I dare you to flash the window.” Adam said.

“Easy!” Y/N responded, turning towards the window and raising her shirt. 

“Very nice, you’ve gotten much better at this game since high school.” Adam teased, placing a hand on her leg as she sat back down. “Remember that night at Claire’s house?” 

“Oh god. I’ve tried really hard to forget that night.” Y/N put her hands on her face, covering her clear embarrassment.

“I haven’t. That night was very interesting.” Adam said with a laugh.

“Yes it was. At least the parts I can remember. Ugh, I’ve never been that sick before in my life.” Y/N said, leaning her head against Adam’s shoulder. “What a crazy night.” She expected Adam to make some retort about how idiotic she looked that night but Adam was silent. “Earth to Adam?” 

“How much do you remember?” He asked

“Huh?” She responded. 

“Remember how we made out that night?” Adam said.

“Oh my gosh. As much as I have tried- no I have not forgotten that night.” She said with a laugh. 

“Hey- why are you trying to forget? I’m a great kisser!” He said, faking offense.

“We were drunk and in Claire’s older brother’s closet.” She retorted back. “It smelled like gym shorts.” 

“Is that all you remember?” Adam said, and Y/N almost felt like he moved a bit closer to her on the couch, his hand sliding up her thigh. 

“I mean the smell was pretty overpowering…” She laughed. Somehow her response seemed meek, like she wasn’t sure exactly what to say. 

“Why was that the only time we made out? We’ve been friends for so long, you think it would have happened again.” Adam said, making Y/N feel like the wind had been knocked out of her. 

“I don’t know.” She said quickly. “Hey, I’m starved, you want a snack?” Y/N went to stand up, but Adam’s hand kept her in place.

“You already know we don’t have any snacks, so why are you trying to leave? Does this make you feel uncomfortable?” He leaned closer to her, the space between them disappearing. 

“Uh.. I, I mean- no of course not. We are friends, we can talk about making out. That's not weird, like come on, no big deal. I mean…”  She started, feeling the warmth of his skin as he slid his arms around her. They sat in silence for a moment, the tension between them growing exponentially. 

“Truth or dare?” Adam said, sitting close enough to her that she could feel his breath as he spoke. 

“What?” Y/N said, almost feeling breathless as her senses felt overwhelmed. 

“Just answer. Truth or dare?”

“Dare.” She whispered. Adam didn’t really answer, instead he closed the distance between them and pressed his lips against hers, wordlessly daring her to kiss him back. 

She did, intensely and passionately. It was like all the tension that had been hanging around them since she had moved in had exploded. They clung to each other, exploring each other’s mouths. It wasn’t long before she felt herself starting to giggle against his lips. 

“What's so funny, kid?” He asked, giving her a look. 

“I just can’t believe that happened. We aren’t even drunk. This is so crazy.” She said through a laugh. 

“Sometimes the things that are the most crazy seem to make the most sense?” He said with a shrug, before pressing his lips against her again. She allowed herself to be over taken by him, his mouth on hers, his hands feeling like they were touching every part of her.

Honestly, she wasn’t sure what this meant, and she didn’t really care. She was going to enjoy every moment of having him this close. She couldn’t help but think that she had never thought power outages were romantic, but this night was surprising her in more ways than one. 

[citronlouis]

50 questions you’ve never been asked

@watermelonsugarhii tagged me, thank youuuu bb ily <3

1. what is the colour of your hairbrush? its a ghetto rainbow ombre zebra print one I got from claires ages ago but she's never let me down so.

2. a food you never eat? pork, and I highly dislike sushi.

3. are you typically too warm or too cold? cold man. Canada is f u c k e d.

4. what were you doing 45 minutes ago? in an online class.

5. what is your favourite candy bar? coffee crisp is where its at.

6. have you ever been to a professional sports event? went to an MLB game a few years ago.

7. what is the last thing you said out loud? “nO don’t” after my brother threatened to change a site I was on to French.

8. what is your favourite ice cream? jamoca almond fudge by Baskin Robbins.

9. what was the last thing you had to drink? a strawberry smoothie.

10. do you like your wallet? yess its a special edition Disney x Coach one I got for my birthday.

11. what was the last thing you ate? chocolate chip toaster waffles.

12. did you buy any new clothes last weekend? I wish.

13. the last sporting event you watched? probably the raptors championship game last year.

14. what is your favourite flavour of popcorn? caramel and extra butter.

15. who is the last person you sent a text message to? my friend.

16. ever go camping? if sleeping in a cabin counts then yes.

17. do you take vitamins? yes but they ran out smh.

18. do you go to church every sunday? before ms rona, yeah usually.

19. do you have a tan? im literally brown.

20. do you prefer chinese food or pizza? both are bomb but Chinese.

21. do you drink your soda with a straw? nah straight from the can. hard core.

22. what colour socks do you usually wear? I own socks in every colour.

23. do you ever drive above the speed limit? nope I usually drive below lmao.

24. what terrifies you? the dark, being alone, and most animals.

25. look to your left, what do you see? my calc hw.

26. what chore do you hate? brooming is a bitch.

27. what do you think of when you hear an australian accent? a didgeridoo.

28. what’s your favourite soda? Coca Cola.

29. do you go in a fast food place or just hit the drive-thru? drive thru.

30. who’s the last person you talked to? my brother.

31. favourite cut of beef? uh idk I like most cuts?

32. last song you listened to? xanny by ms billie eyelash

33. last book you read? the kite runner by khaled hosseini.

34. favourite day of the week? Friday.

35. can you say the alphabet backwards? probably.

36. how do you like your coffee? 70% milk, 20% sugar, 10% coffee. im THAT bitch.

37. favourite pair of shoes? my black and pink converse.

38. at what time do you normally go to bed? 1-2 am.

39. at what time do you normally get up? 10-11 am.

40. what do you prefer, sunrise or sunsets? sunsets.

41. how many blankets are on your bed? rn none, I keep it in the linen closet.

42. describe your kitchen plates? minimalistic.

43. do you have a favourite alcoholic beverage? I don't actively drink but I liked this peach bellini thing I tried once.

44. do you play cards? nah but if anyone wants to play crazy 8s on iMessage hmu!

45. what colour is your car? I don't own it, but the one I drive is space gray.

46. can you change a tire? lmfao no.

47. what is your favourite state/province? umm b.c? p.e.i?

48. favourite job you’ve ever had? I worked for a bit at a pharmacy and it kinda sucked but I had a bunch of homies.

49. how did you get your biggest scar? ha I accidentally stabbed my wrist area with a sharpened pencil in fifth grade and the lead mark is still there :)

50. what did you do today that made someone else happy? I told my brother that after I was done working we can make slime :)))

holy shit this took 3 tries. anyways, I would love to tag @wasalwayslou, @whatagreatproblemtohave, @soldouthaz! if youve already done it or don't want to, no pressure! <3