#its hard to feel that way 24/7 but i feel that way at least half of the time now

[complicit-rot]

i haven't been this social & talkative in Years someone drag me out back

[frecklystars]

GOD!!!!! 😭😭💓💗💖💓💓💞💞💕💟💝💘💝💝💞💗💘💝💟💓💗💞💕💟💝💘💓💖💓💕💕

[watchingovergvff]

Kill You To Try- Jake Kiszka

Summary: Will you and Jake ever be able to see eye to eye? Being pining idiots and hating each others guts don’t mix. Let’s find out the hard way then.

Genre: Childhood best friends- enemies- lovers. Fluff, Angst, Hurt/Comfort.

Word Count: 4.2k

Warnings: Jake is an asshole. Jealousy and Drinking.

A/N: This is my second favorite thing i’ve ever written. I apologize for my lack of Jake fics, considering I stay in Jake lane 24/7. I’ve been working on this for a couple of weeks and it’s not perfect by any means. I love to hear feedback so please let me know or if you want a part two to this also!! Thank you for all your patience and support<3333

_______________________________________________

Jake has never been jealous of Josh’s relationship with you, well that was until he saw the two of you dancing. Something about the way Josh’s hands caressed the small of your back, made his chest ache in resentment.

That’s where his dislike for you starts. Well, maybe not dislike but irritation at least.

Jake has known you since the 5th grade. You used to run around the playground, picking flowers for each and every one of your classmates. Jake had fallen and scratched up his knee, sniffles sounding out. Feeling a gentle tap on his shoulder, he turns around to find you smiling down at him.

“Are you okay?” you peer down at him.

“My knee hurts.”

Handing him the prettiest flower out of your bouquet, “Here this should make you feel better.” Jake admires your toothless grin from below, already feeling much better. It didn’t take much longer after that for him to decide to keep you around.

Jake and Josh were a package deal so being best friends with Josh was inevitable. Growing up, you always found that Josh matched your energy to-a-tee. He was your best friend, the one that always knew how to make you laugh. But, Jake was different. Jake felt like your home, your safe place.

That was until he started acting like an asshole out of nowhere. One day you were fine, the next day you weren’t.

It hurt like hell. There’s truly no way to describe losing your better half, other than heartbreak. Maybe it wouldn’t have hurt so bad, if you weren’t utterly in love with him.

As the years go by, Jake continues his relentless cycle of torture. The snide comments or blatant disrespect, never compared to the pain of him ignoring you. Josh was dumbfounded at Jake’s behavior toward you. He could have sworn Jake was in love with you, but it’s not the first time Jake has surprised him. Josh was tired of constantly calling Jake out on his shit. He understood if Jake just didn’t get along with you anymore, but the disrespect was uncalled for.

Over time, you got used to Jake’s nasty behavior and decided to not let it bother you. If he was going to act like a child then so be it, you would be the mature one.

The boy’s music career had shot up since high school, which meant less time spent together and more time touring the world. Saying your goodbyes was hard, but was inevitable. In the meantime, your life would live on in Michigan, while theirs roamed the world.

Life caught up with all of you, which meant less phone calls and no time for visits. Josh kept his promise when he said he would call once a week. He loved giving you every detail of tour since you couldn’t be there. You had been with them since before they even decided to be a band, so not having you around was weird for all of them, even Jake.

After being away for a year, the tour has finally come to an end. Sam being Sam decides to throw a coming home party, mourning the end of tour but celebrating their return.

Being Josh’s right-hand man comes with its perks, so when you get the invitation to their “exclusive” party, you can’t turn the opportunity down.

Would it be weird to say that you hit a second puberty over the past year? Probably, yes. But, you were being truthful. All those years begging and pleading your body to catch up with your maturing mind, payed off it seems. You finally felt good in your own shoes. So, when the hot guy from the local coffee shop asks for your number, who are you to say no.

Having had plans for a date the night of the party, you suggest that the two of you attend a good friend’s party. Surprisingly, he agrees to go with you, let’s just hope he’s used to crazy.

____

“Josh will you please shut the fuck up? I don’t want to hear her name again, please,” Jake groans out.

Whipping his head in Jake’s direction Josh says, “She’s my best friend. I’m allowed to be excited to see her Jake.”

Jake gives his best effort to not roll his eyes, but fails.

“It’s not like you have to talk to her. I’m sure she isn’t thrilled to see you either, after how shitty you’ve been,” Josh mumbles, leaving the room.

Huffing like a child, Jake does his best to calm his nerves. He is not prepared whatsoever to see you after all this time.

____

Jake already knew it would be hard to see you, but seeing you with some guy makes his façade shatter completely. Pre-gaming seems to have been a bust, because he has never felt soberer in his life.

“Sunshine!” Josh’s bright smile distracts you from scanning the crowd any longer, silently searching for his other half.

After Josh has gotten his fill of hugs and kisses from you, he makes quick work of introducing himself to your date.

Josh’s love for first impressions allows you to quickly excuse yourself, wanting to find a drink strong enough to get through the night.

Scanning the crowd, you see him. Sitting in a secluded corner of the room, slowly sipping on his drink.

Realizing his eyes had been on you since stepping in the doorway, you allow yourself one quick glance in his direction. Not wanting to give him the satisfaction of actively looking for him, you walk the opposite direction, silently hoping he’ll follow you.

Is Jake an asshole to you? Yes.

Does he deserve even a second of your time? Hell no.

But, there’s still a part of you that longs for the Jake you once knew so well. It’s foolish to believe that after all this time he has changed, but you can’t help but wish for it.

Fixing a drink, you smile at people in passing or attempt to make small talk.

Feeling him before you see him, his presence looms over you like no other.

Jake sits onto the countertop next to you, plucking the cherry out of your drink. Grinning wickedly at you, he sucks the cherry into his mouth.

If you hadn’t been so focused on his cherry stained lips, you would have slapped the audacity right out of him.

“See something you like, sunshine?”

“Fuck off Jake,” you glare up at him.

“Don’t be like that, where’s my welcome home hug?” he pouts.

“Assholes don’t get welcome home hugs. They get a foot up their ass instead. Would you like me to demonstrate?”

He chuckles.

Jumping off the counter, he says, “It’s good to see you to, Sunshine.”

Watching him saunter off to his dark corner, you exhale, trying to regain your footing. Jake has always had a way of making your head feel all fuzzy, no matter what bullshit he was spewing.

____

Sam had made the executive decision to start a bonfire later into the night.

The party had dwindled down to very few people at this point.

Your date had decided to head home early because he had work the following morning. The both of you had agreed to see each other again soon. He seemed extremely nice, but you had a feeling it wouldn’t work out due to your complicated past resurfacing.

But, you were in desperate need of a distraction sadly.

Which left you snuggled under Josh’s arm, sharing childhood stories around the fire. Very clique, but it happened every time you all got together and had a few drinks.

Jake’s eyes haven’t left your figure since you walked in the door. The moment in the kitchen with you replaying in his mind over and over again. He could have sworn you looked at him, like he’s always looked at you.

Hanging on to every word that comes out of your mouth, Jake yearns for your affection.

Over the years, Jake has had love interests that weaved in and out of his life. He’d never been in love with any of them, but unconsciously found parts of you in them.

Deflecting his feelings for you by pretending to dislike you is better than being rejected by the one person he loves most, at least that’s what he tells himself.

He longs to hold you close like Josh.

Was his fear of rejection worth losing his best friend?

____

Weeks have passed since the night of the party. Danny had graciously taken you home that night, promising to have a lunch date soon.

Remember the guy you brought with you to said party, you know, the one you agreed to see again?

Well, the time has come to meet up again. The both of you agree to get drinks at a local bar in town. Your excited to go out actually. He’s a cute guy who seems to have a genuine interest in you. Plus, he could be the solution to your irritating Jake problem. It’s been a while since you’ve gotten all dolled up anyway, so this is a great excuse.

Finally feeling satisfied with how you look, you head out the door. Don’t get it twisted, you’re not dressing for him. Putting on a pretty outfit and delicate makeup is all for you, mostly because it’s fun.

High school is rough for everyone. Puberty, delayed growth spurts, acne, braces, and social standards never complimented each other. Having struggled with each and every aspect of an awkward stage during high school.

Feeling beautiful is hard when everyone around is trying to be anyone but themselves. So, you could say high school was rough for you.

You never thought of yourself as beautiful or magnificent. Mostly putting yourself into the dull category, because there was truly nothing special about you.

But, Jake always had a way of proving you wrong.

Jake watched you grow from a gentle and kind young lady, into a breath-taking woman.

Having always thought you were beautiful in every stage of life, Jake truly wouldn’t know where to start.

_____

The bar was lit up with string lights, softly playing music.

Lucky for you, the bar was just a block over from your house, so you were able to walk over. Hoping that your date went well enough for you to hitch a ride home with him.

You arrived on time, perching yourself atop the nearest bar stool. He had messaged you saying he was running behind, but he shouldn’t be too long. So, you had decided to wait at the bar for him.

____

Hours have passed and your still sat atop a barstool, downing your sixth drink of the night. You came to the conclusion about two hours ago, that he was indeed not coming after all.

“Ma’am, do you have a ride home? We’re closing up shop here, so you’re going to have to leave soon,” the older bartender asks you.

“Yeah, yeah sorry. Let me call a friend of mine really quick,” you fumble around, looking for your phone.

Securing your phone in your hand, you go to call Josh. He wouldn’t mind coming to get you.

“Hello?”

“Hey Josh, I know its late but I need a ride home. I’m at the bar down the street, but I’ve had too much to drink to walk home in the dark. Can you please come get me?” anxiously fidgeting in your seat.

“I’ll be there in five. Stay right there,” he hangs up abruptly.

He did not sound happy whatsoever. Making Josh mad was not on your to do list today.

It’s just kind of weird. Josh never minds picking you up, he actually insists its him you call. He’s probably having a rough day, don’t over think it.

It hadn’t even been five minutes when you heard your name being called behind you.

Except that voice was definitely not Josh’s.

Out of all people you could have accidentally called, it had to be him. Your night couldn’t get any worse.

Spinning around on your chair, you sigh, waiting for him to provoke you.

He looks at you worriedly, almost like you would shatter any second now.

You scoff, rolling your eyes.

“What? What did I do now?” Jake questions, conscious of your every move.

“Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?”

You glare at him.

“Like I’m some fucking lost puppy.”

“Don’t give me a reason to,” he bites back.

Running your hands across your face, you realize just how tired you were. “Jake, I can’t do this with you right now. I’ve had a shitty day. Can you please just take me home?”

He reluctantly nods, heading out the door with you in tow.

The two of you climb into his car and begin your silent ride home.

Jake’s never seen you like this. He’s used to you being angry especially at him. Granite, he does love to get you riled up.

But, his favorite is when your happy. When you smile so big, that it throws him back to the day he met you, with your big toothless grin shining down on him.

His sunshine now turning into rain.

So, he respects the silence for once in his life, letting you have your moment. Watching the tears gather in your eyes, brings along a feeling he’s not familiar with.

Rage.

Gripping the steering wheel, he feels steam run off of him, allowing his knuckles to turn white.

It’s one thing for him to tease and mock you, but another for some asshole to think he can and get away with it.

Jake wants now more than anything to be Josh for you. To make you smile and laugh. He can’t bare to see you like this any longer.

“Do you want to play some music? I’ll even let you choose,” he speaks softly, almost like he doesn’t want to run you off.

You peer up at him in confusion. Where the hell did Jake go?

Shifting anxiously under your gaze, Jake mumbles a quick never mind.

It’s been years since the two of you have had a civil conversation, so this feels unnatural.

“Do you remember when Sam had a crush on you?” doing his best to break the ice.

You snort.

His heart flutters seeing you laugh at something he said for once.

“Do I? The kid followed me around for weeks asking me all kinds of weird questions. It took you telling him that I had cooties because of you to back off,” you laugh out.

Sam was never a smooth talker, that’s for sure.

Jake laughs.

You watch in awe, begging for him to never stop laughing again.

Eventually, Jake pulls into your driveway. The two of you sit in silence for a moment, just wanting to bask in the normalcy for once.

You pull the door open, stepping out of the car. Turning around, you give him a tight-lipped smile.

“Thanks Jake, for everything,” looking anywhere but at him.

“No need to thank me, I’d do it again. If you really wanted to thank me, you could tell me where that guy lives so I can kick his ass,” he smiles up at you, only slightly kidding.

Laughing you wave goodbye, praying that he doesn’t see how flustered you were.

Once you’ve made it inside, Jake sits in the driveway, contemplating everything that happened tonight.

On the way home, Jake realizes he regrets not apologizing for everything he’s said that he truly didn’t mean.

____

Days pass and Jake hasn’t heard a peep from or about you. Josh claims that your trying to heal from getting your heartbroken, but Jake has a feeling something else is wrong.

He is terrified that he may have done something to hurt or upset you once again. He is sick and tired of being the one that hurts you.

So, Jake makes the impulsive decision to go see you. Josh protests saying “Jake is the last person you would want to see right now”. In authentic Jake fashion, he doesn’t give a flying fuck.

____

The drive to your house was torture. Jake didn’t know what the right thing to say would be or what he should do.

Thinking back to simpler times, he remembers the time he saw you the summer of 9th grade.

____

That summer was a weird one for all of you.

Jake and Josh finally went through a growth spurt and started filling into their teenage bodies.

They hadn’t seen you all summer because your family sent you to summer camp.

Jake had come home one day, looking for Josh. He heard Josh’s voice float down the hallway from the garage. Making his way in that direction, he heard a second voice. Recognizing that sweet voice anywhere, Jake strides down the hall in search of you.

Once in the garage, he froze in his tracks. It was definitely you, but different. Jake remembers your straggly hair and your scraped knees. He remembers a little girl, his best friend.

You were no longer a little girl, you were a young woman.

You had bloomed into a stunning flower. Jake felt breathless.

But, after all you were still you. Jake was still Jake.

Best friends forever, but maybe it had always been more than that.

____

Jake and Josh hauled you everywhere. Every show they played you were there.

Believing in their success was never difficult for you. The moment you heard them play together, you knew everything would change.

When the boys played their first big show, you had tagged along not wanting to miss a second of it. Their set had finally come to an end that night. Trotting off the stage, Jake immediately went looking for you. He’d kept an eye on you throughout the show, always feeling better with you close by.

Feeling a hand grip his wrist, he spins around in search of the culprit.

Wrapping him into a bear hug, you squeeze him tight.

Pulling away from you he notices tears in your eyes.

“What’s wrong? Was the show that bad?”

You slap at his chest.

“No, you idiot. These are happy tears. I’m just so proud of you guys. Thank you for letting me be here,” you smile up at him.

“Thank you for wanting to be here. I couldn’t have done it without you,” he remarks.

Arriving at your house, he stumbles up to your porch and forces himself to knock on your door. After what seems to be the longest two minutes of his life, you answer the door.

You clearly just woke up from a nap, your hair a wild mess. Of course, Jake thinks its adorable.

Obviously, your taken aback as to why Jake would be standing on your front porch. You begin to question him, but he stops you.

“Can I come in? We need to talk,” he says, barely looking you in the eye.

“Yeah sure, sure,” you say, stepping aside.

Looking around, Jake realizes he’s never been inside your house before. Your windows are wide open, welcoming the sunlight in. Music playing softly from your record player. Books littered all over the room. It feels like home, yet so unfamiliar.

Clearing your throat, you see him jump, clearly on edge.

Once the two of you have gotten comfortable on your sofa, you realize she how quiet it is. Giving him a small smile, in hopes to provide some sort of comfort due to his jitteriness. He melts at the sight of your kind gesture.

“Are you feeling better” he asks.

Chuckling nervously, you reply, “Way better than the last time you saw me. Thank you for that by the way. I meant to text you afterwards, but I was just too tired.”

“You don’t have to thank me, I wanted to.”

You stare at him blankly.

“You wanted to save me from one of the most embarrassing nights of my life?”

“No no no, I didn’t mean it like that, I just like helping you or being the one you call.”

Giving him an exasperated sigh, you sink deeper into your chair.

“Jake, why are you here?”

He sighs, remembering the real reason he came after all. “I don’t even know where to start. I just wanted to apologize, for everything. You never deserved how I treated you. You’ve always been such an enigma to me. I couldn’t ever figure out why you were so kind to me, even after I pushed you away.”

“Then why did you push me away Jake? When all I’ve ever wanted was to be close to you.”

“I felt like I had to. You and Josh had gotten so close. I was selfish and got jealous. I’ve had to share everything with Josh my whole life. The one thing I never ever wanted to share was you. At the time, I felt like you had finally made your decision and it was Josh that you chose. It hurt too much to see the both of you together, so I made myself distance from you. A few years after I came to my senses and realized I was being selfish making you choose between the both of us, I wanted to make things right. I bought flowers and wrote out my whole apology speech, just to get to your front door and cower away. I felt like there would be no way you would forgive with such a lame ass excuse at that point. I had already dug deep enough. So, I made myself learn how to hate you, even though that’s the farthest thing from the truth. I--- I’m just so sorry Y/n. I never want to hurt you again. Being the one you called that night at the bar made me realize just how much I missed you. I miss talking to you, laughing with you, and sitting with you. I miss everything. I want to make it right, no matter what it takes. You deserve it, you always have.”

Hiding his face within his hands, in order to keep some composure, he hears a sniffle. Quickly looking up, Jake comes face to face with your tearful smile.

Tears poor down your face, while grinning ear to ear.

Reaching over, Jake gently wipes your tears away. You reach up and cup his shaky hands, holding them against your face.

“You’re such a dumbass.”

The both of you die out with chocked up laughter.

“You should have just told me Jake. I’ve always loved you both and I always will. But, my love for you is different, it always has been. You’re my best friend. Josh is my brother, the one that shields me. I had a sneaking suspicion that may have been what triggered your behavior, but I was too pissed to talk about it with you. Your right, I didn’t deserve the treatment you gave me, but I saw right through that bullshit. You forget that I watched you grow up. You’ve always been my sweetheart, the friend that would go above and beyond for you. I never truly believed you hated me, I just wanted to give you time to figure yourself out, no matter how long it took. I forgive you Jake. I think I forgave you a long time ago, but was always too prideful to admit it to myself.”

Grinning at each other, Jake pulls you into a tight hug. Being this close to one another after years of pining, felt like a dream.

Finally, you pull away realizing just how close the two of you were. Feeling Jake’s breath gently against your skin, you glance down at his lips. Jake’s breathing all together stops.

Quickly, your mind comes to its senses and the both of you awkwardly pull away.

Scratching the back of his neck, Jake says, “I guess I should head back to the studio now. Josh is going to kill me if I’m late again.”

“Oh yeah, of course. I know how cranky he can get,” you laugh off. Leading him out your front door, you turn to walk back inside.

“Y/n,” Jake calls out.

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

You smile so wide, your bottom lip shakes.

Waving him off, you head back inside. Laying against the door, your head feels fuzzy from just his smile.

____

Five minutes later, Jake finds himself pulling right back into your driveway. He marches right out of his car, straight up to your porch once again. In a tizzy, he begins banging on your door.

Rushing to see what the ruckus is about, you swing open your door.

“Miss me already?” you chuckle out.

“Marry me.”

“What?”

“What?”

The both of you stand there looking at each other, daring the other to speak up.

“I’m sorry that’s not what I meant to say, I was trying to tell you-

You tug him by his collar, kissing him softly.

Eventually, the two of you pull away trying to catch your breath. Resting his head against yours, you both smile.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for a long time,” you whisper out.

Jake chuckles in disbelieve. “No way, I’ve been dreaming of that since 7th grade.”

He takes your hand in his, squeezing so tight in hopes to convey his love for you. Immediately understanding, you bring your hand up to gently stroke his hair.

“Well, we could keep standing out here looking at one another, or we can go inside and kiss some more,” you say.

Jake hastily responses, “Inside please.”

____

Thank you for reading, hope you enjoyed!!!!

[cheesybadgers]

Narcos Fic: Old Habits Die Hard (Chap. 21)

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13, Chapter 14, Chapter 15, Chapter 16, Chapter 17, Chapter 18, Chapter 19, Chapter 20, Chapter 22, Chapter 23, Chapter 24

Read on AO3

Masterlist

Pairing: Javier Peña x Horacio Carrillo

Words: 7,356

Summary: After arriving in Manizales, Horacio introduces Javier to his family, leading to a long overdue heart-to-heart and a drinking game with a twist.

Warnings: 18+ ONLY. Discussions of coming out, grief, parental loss, canon-typical violence, allusions to period-typical prejudices, drinking game, smoking, swearing.

Notes: Firstly, I will soften the blow of leaving it so long since my last update with the news that chapter 22 will be posted within the next week or so! I decided to split it in half to give more space to the conversations between the characters. So, hopefully that will make up for my elongated silence lol.

Secondly, I finished drafting the rest of the fic at the end of last year 👀 So, I just need to complete editing on chapter 23 and the epilogue. Then, and I can't believe I'm actually saying this, it will be time to leave these two messy idiots to it.

I think it will take me some time to get my head around it coming to an end, not least of all because it's been almost 3 years since I started working on this behemoth. And I can't believe how much has happened/changed since then, yet my love for this ship and this story has stayed strong and close to my heart. So, a bit of a premature thank you to anyone who has supported it at any point since March 2021, it's been quite the emotional rollercoaster ❤️ As always, I love hearing from my readers, so feel free to drop me a comment/message!

I’ve also added to my OHDH trivia post to cover this chapter if anyone is interested.

Chapter 21: For Old Times' Sake

A haze of mist hung low on the horizon, clinging to the rolling waves of verdant peaks that bled seamlessly together with worn asphalt until it was impossible to tell where the sky began and the earth ended.

Luckily, the tyres of the hire car were built for rougher terrain, and it wasn’t the first time Horacio had driven this route. Admittedly, it would have been easier to fly. But this had the added benefit of giving Javier a taste of undiscovered territory.

If truth be told, it gifted them more time to mentally prepare for what was getting closer with every hour that passed, each stop off to admire the view and refresh a stubborn way to prolong the status quo.

Progress had been slow for the last hour as the congested traffic crawled along the sharp angles of the road with its treacherous drops only a few inches away. They had come to a standstill behind a bus that allowed passengers off to take photos, and with little room to manoeuvre around the vehicle, a trail of cars had no choice but to wait.

Javier lounged back in the passenger seat, one foot resting on the opposite knee, his elbow leaning on the door, and the window half open.

He watched Horacio’s hands on the steering wheel alternate between clenching and tapping, a particular kind of rigidity returning to his jaw for the first time in months – if not years.

Javier made an executive decision by reaching into the glove box. He pulled out an emergency pack of cigarettes and a lighter they had stashed away before setting off from Medellín.

He lifted one out of the pack and sparked up. “So, did you say it’s a farm we’re heading to?” There was no point asking the obvious, so distraction it was.

“A coffee farm on the outskirts of the city, yeah. It belongs to Fabián’s family. He and his brother, Santiago, do the bulk of the work now their father’s winding down.”

“Sounds nice. And kinda familiar.”

Horacio’s eyes finally left the windshield and met Javier’s with a shadow of a smile. “Yeah, it does. A lot hillier than Texas, though.”

“Well, that wouldn’t be hard.” Javier held out his smoke across the car, their first one that wasn’t post-coital in a long time. But needs must.

Horacio apparently agreed as he accepted it with a huff of resignation. “Fine, one for the road.”

“I think it’s allowed on roads like this one.”

“I did warn you.”

“Hey, no, I like it. Keeps you on your toes.”

“It reminds me of when Papá drove us to visit Tia Salomé and Tio Jairo in Bogotá. He and Mamá let us have sweets for the long journey but warned us the Mareco would take them away if we didn’t behave.”

“The Mareco?”

“La Leyenda del Mareco. It was a story we were told as kids. The Mareco’s a red devil that looks like a lizard on two legs. He steals children’s candy and conjures up a whirlwind to blow them away if they don’t obey their parents.”

Javier nodded in recognition as Horacio passed their cigarette back. “La Llorona was the story used to scare me and my cousins.”

“Oh yeah, we got that one as well.”

“I gotta say, the Mareco explains a lot.”

“About what?”

“About how you developed a problem with authority.”

“What’s your excuse then?”

“What can I say? I was led astray.”

It was a blatant lie, but Javier didn’t care when it caused laughter lines to materialise in the corner of Horacio’s eyes.

“We both know you were drawn to it as much as you resented it.”

“Only where you were concerned. Anyway, you were just as bad even though you'd never admit it.”

“Maybe you were my exception too.”

A moment of silence fell as memory after memory collided, snapshots of how the push and pull between them had evolved with their relationship.

"Listen, I was thinking,” Javier started before taking a drag, “would it make things easier if you wore this? Just while we’re here, I mean.”

Horacio’s gaze drifted to Javier’s exposed skin, the taillights of the car in front catching on the crucifix at his chest. “No,” he said matter-of-factly. “It’s yours now.”

By the time their cigarette was finished, the traffic edged forward, and the road ahead and Javier’s hand on Horacio’s leg soon replaced conversation.

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

Two and a half hours and several bursts of heavy rain later, the muddied hire car pulled up by a complex of buildings nestled amongst a sea of lush green and vibrant flowers. The buildings sat atop steep slopes of vegetation that led to the coffee plantations below, the foggy skyline above etched with rugged ridges and the ominous outline of Nevado del Ruiz in the distance.

Any sounds from life on a working coffee farm were drowned out by birdsong and their feet crunching beneath them as Horacio and Javier walked up the gravel path towards the main finca. It was typical in its style with a rustic tiled roof, whitewashed bricks and wooden pillars around its perimeter painted in the same shade of terracotta red as the doors and window frames. At the back of the property was a large garden with a patio area, pool and a spectacular view for miles on a clear day.

As they lugged their suitcases onto the porch, Alejandra waited to greet them at the front door. Her dark hair was styled in a bob with waves bordering on curls, the kind Javier imagined Horacio could grow if he wasn’t so insistent on keeping his hair short. At least since leaving the CNP, he had been less strict about cutting it.

The family resemblance between the two siblings was evident in their facial features, particularly in the shape of their noses, charcoal eyes and Cupid’s bows. But Alejandra was a few inches shorter, and her frame was slimmer on account of not carrying the same muscle as Horacio.

“The wanderer finally returns,” Alejandra announced as she pulled Horacio in for a long hug, neither of them keen to be the first to let go. “At least you remembered how to use the phone before turning up on my doorstep.”

“Of course. It's good to see you. But I am sorry I left it so long. There’s, erm…a lot to catch up on.”

“I’ll say.” She peered curiously behind Horacio. “But first, let me say hello to this handsome new face.”

She all but pushed Horacio to one side, forgoing any formal introductions he might have had planned. All Horacio could do was stand and watch two parts of his life converge that, for a long time, he believed would never – and could never – meet.

Javier had hung back by several feet, his hands self-consciously stuffed into the pockets of his jeans as he kept his eyes on the ground until he was spoken to.

“Hi there, I’m Alejandra. You must be Javier?”

“Oh, er, yeah, hi.” For reasons unbeknownst to Javier, he raised his hand in a stiff wave rather than the relaxed handshake he had planned and felt the heat instantly rise in his cheeks. “Pleasure to finally meet you. Beautiful place you’ve got up here.”

“Likewise. And thanks.” Much to Javier's relief, she took the lead and held out a hand for him to shake with a reassuring smile. “Although you’ve got Fabián to thank for that. He’s down there giving a tour to one of our new buyers.” Alejandra turned back to face Horacio. “Mamá’s shopping for school supplies and tonight’s dessert with Juan José, Sofía and Mateo. Ana María’s out with friends. But they should all be back in the next few hours.”

Horacio nodded but remained taciturn, keeping to himself his strong suspicions that Alejandra had made sure she was the only one to greet them upon arrival.

“Come on, you can show Javier around whilst I make us something to eat and drink.”

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

It had been a long time since Horacio’s last visit, but he could just about remember the layout of the place. He took Javier through the downstairs rooms, moving from the hall to the living areas and then the kitchen, which appeared tidier now than in his dreams.

The décor was all tiled or wooden floors and earthy tones, contrasting against large airy windows that made the landscape outside seem like a part of the finca. Evidence of three generations and two cats was scattered everywhere in the form of toys, games, videos, tapes, books, various coffee products and photographs from over the years. In one corner stood a home altar containing a large crucifix, prayer cards, rosary beads, candles, and a statue of Virgen de Chiquinquirá. In the opposite corner was a shelf full of old vinyl with Lucho Bermúdez taking pride of place, naturally.

Upstairs housed six bedrooms and three bathrooms, on account of the brood of four children, three adults and a spare room. The spare room was their last stop, where they dumped their luggage, sharing an amused glance at the double bed with a smaller fold-out one laid out in the corner with a pile of fresh sheets.

“As your guest, I take it I get the bigger one?” Javier asked with a spark of mischief in his eye.

“Well, technically, I’m also a guest here. And I did do all the driving.”

“Maybe I’ll, er, flip you for it later.”

Horacio merely raised a brow at the suggestion in Javier’s tone before they headed back downstairs.

They sat under cover of the terrace in the wildly growing garden, just in case the rain returned, which was always a distinct possibility in Manizales. An impressive platter of fruits was laid out on the table alongside freshly made coffee.

“So, how was the wedding?” Alejandra asked as she poured from a pot into three cups, the dark, rich aroma diffusing into the same crisp air the beans were grown and harvested.

Horacio accepted a cup with a thanks and passed the other to Javier. “It was nice. Good to see everyone again.”

“How’s Trujillo doing? It’s been strange seeing his face all over the news.”

Rather than his, Horacio thought with a strange lurch to the gut he wasn’t expecting. “He’s doing well; he’s a Major now. He deserves some happiness after everything.”

“He’s not the only one.”

Alejandra gave Horacio a pointed look, one he wasn’t ready to entirely meet, so he reached for a slice of guayaba instead.

“And Javier...I take it this is your first visit to Manizales?” she continued, offering him the fruit tray.

“Thanks. And yeah, it is. Never got the time to explore much beyond Bogotá and Medellín.” That wasn't exactly true, but Javier didn’t think talk of Cartagena or Tolú would be welcome right now.

“Well, I hope it won’t be your last.”

Horacio could feel another look directed his way but pretended not to notice it and sipped on his coffee.

Once they had eaten their weight in fruit, Alejandra had some business calls to make, leaving Javier and Horacio to unpack and freshen up before reconvening to make a start on dinner.

Of course, it had to be sudado de pollo. Horacio and Alejandra worked as a team, issuing sporadic instructions to Javier when necessary. But he was happy listening to them catch up and reminisce.

“That smells amazing already,” Javier said as he finely chopped onions across a wooden board, gesturing to the dishful of chicken thighs that Alejandra had just finished marinating.

“Mamá’s secret blend,” she replied as she set the dish aside to move on to dicing several tomatoes.

“Oh yeah? What would I have to do to get the recipe for that?” Javier reflexively caught Horacio’s eye across the kitchen.

“If we told you, we’d have to kill you.” Horacio shot Javier a warning look that indicated he was only half joking before focusing intently on cutting up a large batch of yuca and potatoes.

“Yeah, not even Fabián knows.”

“Papá never knew either. But he was happy for us or Mamá to make it for him.”

“My Mamá was the same with her Abuela’s morisqueta. Although, not long before she passed, she left me and my Pops the recipe.”

Alejandra paused her knife to look up at Javier, the surprise on her face soon transforming into recognition and sympathy. “I bet it’s delicious. You should make it for us some time.”

Now it was Horacio’s turn to stop, his eyes travelling from Alejandra to Javier and back again as the implication of his sister’s words hung as heavy in the kitchen as the aromatic spices of her marinade.

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

Once the chicken and vegetables were all prepped and placed in a pot on the stove, the front door opened and closed, a loud chatter of voices soon filling the hallway.

Before Javier knew what was happening, he was being introduced to the children, shaking hands with Fabián, then kissing Elena’s cheek.

“Welcome, Javier. It’s good to put a face to a name at last,” Elena said, thoroughly taking in his appearance, apparently satisfied with what she saw.

At last. Javier wasn’t sure whether those words put him at ease or made him more nervous, but he managed to push such thoughts behind a smile. “Nice to meet you, and likewise.”

Javier had briefly seen pictures of Horacio’s family in the past. But he, too, spent time studying Elena now that he was close enough to smell the floral notes of her perfume. Neat oval glasses and a mix of dark and light grey hair cut short and choppy framed her sharp features, the shape of her nose and Cupid’s Bow matching those of her children.

“No thanks to this one here, mind you.” Despite her chastisement, Elena embraced her son tightly, reluctant to let go. “I think he’s been hiding from us.”

“You know it wasn’t like that, Mamá.” Although, over his Mamá’s head, Horacio gave Javier a sheepish look that said otherwise. “It is good to see you. And I’m sorry I left it so long.”

Upon greeting his nieces and nephews, Horacio was struck by how much they had all grown up since his last visit. Ana María was the spitting image of her mother. Juan José was several inches taller than Horacio and resembled his father more than ever. And Mateo and Sofía had presumably become resentful of all the matching outfits in their younger years of being twins, going out of their way to dress as differently from each other as possible. Once they had said their obligatory hellos, they scattered around the house and no doubt wouldn’t re-appear until dinner was ready.

Right on cue, when Alejandra brought out steaming and brimming plates full of sudado de pollo, everyone rapidly took their places around the table.

Silence fell as they tucked in, the warmth and comfort of childhood cocooning Horacio from what he knew was inevitable. A welcomed interruption from his thoughts came with a soft brush against his leg, his instincts telling him it was one of the cats issuing their own greeting. But he should have known better.

As they ate and endured the usual family small talk, Javier's foot became Horacio's anchor, subtle and soothing rubs against his ankle unseen under the table. Steady, grounding, home. 

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

Horacio carried the last few empty plates to the kitchen, where piles of dishes were already stacked high. He had left Javier with Juan José and Mateo, who were showing off the latest video games they had got for Christmas – and were comfortably beating Javier at them, too.

“I’ll wash; you dry. For old times’ sake,” Alejandra said without looking up from the sink where she was filling the basin with water and suds.

“Okay. On the condition we both tidy everything away afterwards.”

“Deal. You’ll just put it in the wrong place unsupervised anyway.”

Horacio swatted the tea towel he’d picked up in her direction, only for her to retaliate by flicking bubbles in his hair.

“We did okay with dinner, didn’t we? I haven’t made that in a long time,” Horacio said.

“You had a good teacher.”

“So did you.”

“Oh, I know. I think that’s why Papá always loved it. We were all in there somewhere.”

“Like our Christmas tamales.”

“Oh, yeah, he couldn’t get enough of those. Remember we always had to make an extra batch for him to take to work?”

“He said they were to share with his unit, but I’m not sure many made it that far.”

Now they were laughing as they worked in tandem, Alejandra changing the water as Horacio cleared the draining board, ready for the next load.

“Did you ever feel like you let him down?” Horacio asked after a long silence, both siblings seemingly waiting for the other to fill it.

“Of course. You know Papá didn’t approve of Fabián at first, right?”

“What?”

“You must’ve heard the arguments?”

“To be fair, there were plenty of arguments between you and Papá.”

“Yeah, and they were mostly about me daring to marry someone other than a cop.”

“That’s what it was about?”

“Mostly. It wasn’t that he didn’t like Fabián; I just think he had suitors picked out for me. People he knew he could trust.”

“But they got along in the end, didn’t they?”

“Once Papá had got over himself, yeah.” Alejandra let out a nostalgic laugh, which Horacio quickly joined in with. “He could be tough when he wanted to be, but…he meant well,” she settled on. “Once he saw how happy I was and how Fabián had taken after his father with the farm, he came around. It was never personal with Papá. It’s just the way he was.”

“So, you don’t think he’d be disappointed in me…” Horacio paused to swallow, his throat drier than a Texan summer. “For quitting?” he got out eventually.

Alejandra gave Horacio a look he’d seen countless times over the years. One only a big sister could give her little brother when she had to feign ignorance of something she had already discovered for herself. The perks of being the eldest.

“How did you know?”

“Horacio, are you really asking that of someone who has been surrounded by cops all her life?”

Horacio rolled his eyes but let Alejandra have that one unchallenged.

“I thought you might have been discharged on medical grounds, to be honest. I hoped you’d seen sense. Or maybe met someone.”

“I wasn’t discharged, but I negotiated a payout after my injury.”

Alejandra released a self-satisfied hum, a whisp of a smile threatening to break free from the corners of her mouth. “Two out of three’s not bad, I suppose.”

Horacio gulped hard enough for Alejandra to hear; he had no doubt about that. But no words followed, not even when he caught her eye.

“You love him, don’t you?” It wasn’t an accusation or an interrogation. In fact, it was barely even a question.

“Yes.” It caught Horacio off guard how fast he answered. How direct and concise he’d been.

“And he loves you.” There was no pretence of a question mark now, but rather a clarification of a well-established fact. A rite of passage both parties needed to hear.

“He does.”

“Enough to walk away from it all, too.”

Horacio nodded, scared the lump in his throat would give way to something else as his glassy gaze met Alejandra’s.

“His father – Chucho – owns a ranch in Laredo, Texas. That’s where I went after…” he trailed off, not wishing to dwell on the finer details of the ambush. “I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you. I hated lying after everything we’ve been through. But I figured the less you and Mamá knew, the safer it was.”

“I had a feeling you’d left Colombia. But Texas?” Alejandra blew out a low whistle. “That’s the part we’ll need to prepare Mamá for.”

“They’re Mexican-American. And the ranch is right on the border by the river.”

“I’d lead with that part if I were you. Not sure you can avoid a lecture about fraternising with Spanish colonisers, though. Twice.”

“I got that the first time I moved over there. But she went quiet when I reminded her Madrid was good enough for Simón Bolívar.”

Alejandra’s shoulders shook in unison with Horacio’s until a comfortable silence fell between them.

“So, you were there a whole year?”

“Just over. I couldn’t do much to help for the first few months – whilst this healed.” Horacio flexed his right arm to prove to Alejandra that everything was back in working order. “But it was good to have a routine eventually.”

“Wait a minute…you worked on the ranch?”

“No need to sound so surprised when you live here. I was actually pretty good at it. And I liked it.” Although Horacio understood and returned his sister’s bemusement because even he had shocked himself.

“No, I’m not. It’s just…oh, Horacio...” Alejandra broke off to bring her hand to his cheek, her brow creased, but her eyes caught between being on the brink of a smile and tears. “Look at you.”

Horacio made a show of wiping away the suds from his cheekbone, hoping he wouldn’t still have an audience afterwards. But no such luck. “It’s not what I expected to happen – any of it. But it just....felt right. I know that probably doesn’t make sense.”

“Actually, it makes perfect sense.”

“Does it?”

“Well, for starters, I can see the appeal. Obviously. Can’t blame you for going for a younger man, either. And taller.”

Horacio rolled his eyes and hoped his face didn’t look as hot as it felt. “Not by that much. On either count.”

“Hey, no judgment from me. But seriously, of course, it makes sense. I know we all used to joke about you being married to your job, but…after Juliana, I did wonder if there was more to it than that.”

“I think burying myself in work killed two birds with one stone.”

“It was killing you.”

“I know.”

“And Papá would have told you the same.”

A hollow laugh escaped Horacio’s throat, Martínez’s words from the wedding still ringing intrusively in his ears. “I’d have been kicked out of the force. He’d have made sure of that. And I wouldn’t have blamed him.”

“Right, because you were the first officer on Colombian soil to commit violence or be used as a political weapon.”

“He was against it, Alejandra. La Violencia was enough for anyone to see in a lifetime.”

But that was just another in a long line of civil wars. Even if his father's life hadn’t been cut short, he would have seen yet another bloody outbreak in which the state did more to perpetuate the death toll than bring peace to the country. And Horacio had plenty of blood on his hands. At least his Papá was spared witnessing that.

“And you don’t think he was ever put in a compromising position back then? You don’t think La Violencia was why he didn’t want the same for you? You won’t remember much, and Mamá and Papá never spoke about it around us, but I got pretty good at listening through doors.”

“He never did talk about it. Even when I was older.”

Not that he really needed to, Horacio conceded. Even though they were kept relatively safe and away from the violence in Medellín compared to other regions of Antioquia – particularly the rural parts – he had heard enough over the years to fill in the blanks.

He remembered his Mamá’s stories of helping the displaced, those who sought refuge in the city. Thousands who had been forced to flee the violence and start over again, often in makeshift housing on the outskirts, the irony never lost on Horacio that one of those neighbourhoods became Comuna 13. But for all his Mamá’s tales and the work she continued to do until she left for Manizales, his Papá never spoke about those years.

“He was protecting you. Like Mamá was with us after he died. Sometimes silence is easier.”

“I know. I get it. Before he died, the cocaine trade hadn’t got going in Colombia yet. It was mostly marijuana. But with FARC around and the gringos spreading their anti-communist propaganda, he knew it was a question of when, not if, another war was coming. I think he hoped things would be different this time.”

“You did what you had to do, Horacio. Just like he did. Just like every generation of our family did to survive. What’s done is done.”

“I’m not sure you’d say that if you knew everything.”

“You think I never heard any of the rumours out here? Or picked up a newspaper once in a while?”

“You never said anything.”

Alejandra shot Horacio a cutting glare, the kind he was an expert at delivering, but only a select few could get away with throwing back at him. “I knew you wouldn’t talk about it even if I asked.”

Horacio scoffed. Touché. “Not all of it was true.”

It was Alejandra’s turn to laugh. “Well, I kinda figured you weren’t dead after you called.”

“I don’t just mean the ambush.”

“I know,” she said briskly.

But Horacio couldn’t ignore the relief in her body language. Even though he understood it, a wave of shame hit him for even planting a seed of doubt in her – his older sister, the mother of his nieces and nephews – mind in the first place.

“But that’s all in the past now,” he concluded, shutting down his own train of destructive thought. “And you’re right; Papá’s not here. But Javier is.”

“So your future’s in Laredo, then.”

“Are you mad?”

“Am I mad that my little brother is finally getting his shit together and is head over heels in love? Oh, yeah, I’m livid.”

An inferno had spread across Horacio’s cheeks, and he struggled to think of a response. But luckily for him, Alejandra wasn’t done yet.

“It’s…safe, though, right? For you both to live together?”

“As safe as anywhere else. Every country has its problems. I’m sure there’ll always be people with something to say. But we’ve been careful.”

“Just promise me you’ll keep being careful.”

“We will, I promise.”

“I can’t guarantee I’ll convince Mamá to visit in the summer, though.”

“That’s fair. But you do think she’ll want to visit?”

“She might be strong, but we know what she lost – what we all lost. So, if there’s a chance for you to share your life with someone as she did with Papá, to be safe – to be happy after everything – yeah, I think she'll want to visit.”

“Do you think Papá would if he could?” Horacio knew it was a loaded grenade of a question and unfair to ask. But he couldn’t help himself.

Alejandra hesitated, seemingly aware she was between a rock and a hard place. “Maybe in his old age. Or if he knew Javier saved your life.”

“How did –?”

She expelled a comedically dramatic sigh. “Keep up, manito. When you called, you told me the DEA came after you that night. I don’t need to hold a badge to guess who that was.”

Horacio was banged to rights once more as he tried to recall the exact information he had relayed to Alejandra in the hours after the ambush; evidently, it was more than he thought.

“He – and his partner, Steve – went against orders and got suspended for helping me and my men.”

“So, they took a leaf out of your book then?”

“Something like that.”

Before Horacio could overthink it, he took a deep breath and told Alejandra everything. From the blackmail to his and Javier’s resignations to their year in Madrid, it all came tumbling out whilst she kept washing and he kept drying. Just like old times. Just like their Papá was in the next room along with their Mamá. And in so many ways, he always would be, not as a ghost of their past, but forever a part of their present and future.

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

Arriving during the week had its advantages, as it wasn’t necessary for Horacio to make excuses to get an early night. Work and school beckoned in the morning for most of the household, so the evening had ended in a low-key fashion.

That was more than fine by Horacio after a long drive and an overdue heart-to-heart. He lay on his side, his back nestled into Javier’s chest in the centre of the spare room’s double bed. They made up the fold-out bed for pretences, but it was purely extra space to store their luggage.

A bedside lamp and hints of moonlight peaking around the edges of the curtains cast the room in soft shadows, the low murmur of a telenovela in one of the nearby bedrooms the only sound to be heard at this hour.

“How old were you there?” Javier asked, his voice muffled against Horacio’s shoulder where he’d temporarily paused his trail of kisses after picking out one of several framed photos on the wall.

“The one from Alejandra’s wedding? I’d have been 24.”

“Cute curls.” Javier’s nose nuzzled against the back of Horacio’s head, which was sadly lacking the same unruliness as in the photo.

“Fuck you.”

Javier sniggered. “Hey, I was being serious! They suit you. Plus…more to grab hold of.” He slid a hand into Horacio’s hair as his mouth resumed its work along bare skin.

Horacio’s back arched with a sigh as he leaned into Javier’s touch. “You know we can’t get carried away. Not here.”

“I know.” Of course, Javier understood. It was one thing for him to have sneaked in and out of the guesthouse back in Laredo; it was quite another to be under the same roof as Horacio’s whole family. But that didn’t stop the almost petulant tone in Javier’s voice. He was still human, after all.

“I promise we’ll make up for it once we leave.”

“I’ll hold you to that.”

Despite their flirtation, exhaustion was thick in their throats and pressed heavily on their limbs, pushing them closer towards sleep as the butterflies in their stomachs finally settled.

“The wedding wasn’t that long after Papá died. Alejandra asked me to give her away instead. At first, I didn’t think I deserved to take Papá’s place. But I think she needed me there with her, so, I said yes.”

“Of course you did, and I bet she never forgot that.”

“No, and I’ll never forget tonight."

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It was still dark in the spare room when Javier stirred and untangled himself from Horacio as slowly as possible. He had woken up thirsty and threw on a precautionary pair of jeans before tiptoeing down the wooden staircase towards the kitchen.

The clock on the oven read 01:30am, so he wasn't expecting to find the spotlights above it switched on. He searched through the cupboards until he found a tumbler and filled it with water from the tap, taking large gulps until the glass was drained.

“So, you’re a night owl too, then?”

“Shit!” Javier hissed, spinning around with a sharp intake of breath, almost dropping the glass on the tiled floor.

“Sorry,” Alejandra whispered. “I was just reading before heading off to bed.”

“Oh, no, it’s fine. I just needed some water. Didn’t think anyone else would be up.” Javier was suddenly very aware of the fact he was standing half naked in the middle of the kitchen, Horacio’s necklace like a flashing beacon at his chest. “Obviously,” he added with an awkward huff, looking down at his state of semi-undress.

“Right,” Alejandra replied with a stifled laugh. “How about you avoid catching a chill whilst I find something a bit more…authentic than tap water?”

Once Javier came back downstairs with his chest now covered, Alejandra was sat at the kitchen table with two shot glasses and a bottle of aguardiente.

“Not sure my stomach can handle any more of that after the wedding.”

“Lightweight. And just think of it as an initiation.”

Javier sighed in defeat, accepting the challenge as he took a seat opposite Alejandra.

She unscrewed the bottle and tipped measures into each glass. “Wanna make this more interesting?”

“What do you have in mind?”

“Three shots, three questions each. But you can only ask a question after you’ve emptied your glass.”

Javier laughed for a second, unsure what he imagined Alejandra to be like, yet somehow, she surprised him anyway. “Okay. Already sounds better than every other icebreaker inflicted on me. Who goes first?”

“Guest’s choice.”

He stared down at his glass as though it was the barrel of a gun, remembering why he had eventually insisted whiskey was his and Horacio’s go-to drink. When he first arrived in Colombia, Horacio would offer him a shot, pouring liberally from the stash of aguardiente in his office drawer, and Javier accepted on multiple occasions. But it was over and done with like a spoonful of caustic medicine. At least whiskey could be drunk slower and delayed saying goodnight.

That wasn't the order of things now, though. So, Javier grabbed the bull by the horns and threw back his glass, wincing at the aniseed burn as it slid down his throat.

“New rule: you’ve got 30 seconds to come up with a question. Otherwise, you take another shot.”

“Alright, alright, I’m thinking.”

Alejandra’s gaze fell on the oven clock, ramping up the pressure. “10 seconds left…”

“Okay. I’ve got one. What was it like growing up with a younger brother?”

“Annoying, obviously. Especially after he got the highest grade in his English class. I don’t know where he picked them up, but he knew all the swear words. Of course. He drove me crazy testing them out.”

“He did that to my old partner, Steve – his Spanish isn’t great, and Horacio sure liked to remind him whenever he got the chance.”

“Sounds about right. No wonder he liked you – best of both worlds.”

“Maybe.” Javier knew what Alejandra meant, but it didn’t stop heat from spreading through his cheeks regardless.

“He was generally pretty quiet at school,” Alejandra continued, "but not afraid to take the lead…or break a few rules.”

“Again, I’m not surprised.”

“Nope.” They both laughed at that. “He always liked to be moving, though. Doing something with his hands. Or playing sports – he was a good runner. We used to race each other around Jardín Botánico, and he would always beat me. I think he already knew he was in training for the Academy. So, obviously, he was accepted. No doubt some thought he got a free pass, but he was determined to prove himself. Then he had to grow up.”

The joviality faded abruptly from Alejandra’s face, transforming into a wistful smile.

“We both did. But at least I’d had more time with Papá. Good job I did have those few years to myself ‘cos Horacio followed him around like a shadow. Until he couldn’t. Then he thought he had to be the man of the house. Even when there were two much more qualified women for the job.”

“He thought it was his duty."

“Yeah. He did.” There was something akin to awe in how Alejandra looked at Javier, as though she was simultaneously taken aback and impressed that someone summed up and understood her brother so accurately and succinctly.

“Isn’t it your turn, now?” Javier asked after a moment of silence.

Without further hesitation, Alejandra downed her shot. “Why Colombia?”

“Why not Colombia?” He tried a feeble laugh but knew that wouldn't cut it. “I studied Gabriel García Márquez in high school. Although, can’t say I really got him at the time. Took me another try when I was older.”

Now he thought about it, Javier wasn’t convinced he exactly got him the second time around either, considering García Márquez’s views on extradition aligned fiercely with Horacio’s. But that was the luxury of hindsight.

“By then, my Mamá had long since passed, my fiancée had just become my ex, and I had no fucking clue what I was doing with my life. Guess I needed to get lost in someone else’s problems for a while.”

“Tell me about it.” Alejandra held a book up in the air that had been abandoned on the table since Javier joined her.

“Smart move. My teacher loved telling us how García Márquez moved to Mexico and wrote One Hundred Years of Solitude over there. And with how things went down in Laredo, I could see the appeal of starting over in another country. Mexico was…too close to home. The drug war was getting out of hand. More and more agents were being transferred. And what’s the line?” Javier broke off, eyes cast towards the ceiling as he licked his lips in concentration. “‘We came’, they said, ‘because everyone is coming’.”

Alejandra let a pause of bewilderment pass between them as she studied Javier with intrigue. “You’re not at all like the other gringos he’s worked with in the past.”

“Did he bring any of them home to his family?”

“No. You’re the first. As I’m sure you're aware.”

“Maybe.”

“Drink up.”

Javier did as he was told, repressing a cough as the potent liquid worked its magic. “Why did you choose farm life over being a cop?”

Alejandra laughed a little too loudly, considering the time. “There are other career choices, you know.”

Javier gasped. “There are?”

“Hard to believe, isn’t it? But that’s not quite how it went for me. The farm came with Fabián. They’re sort of a package deal. I’m sure you can understand that.” She threw Javier a knowing smile. “But I ruled out being a cop years before I moved here or met Fabián. I knew from Papá that women in the force were few and far between back then. They’re still pretty scarce now. I wasn’t up for putting myself in the firing line being a General’s daughter. They never would have respected me or believed I got there on my own merit. I didn’t want to spend my life trying to gain anyone's approval.”

“Makes sense. It’s not easy in the force if you’re…different from the rest."

“Exactly. I’m not sure it’s what Papá even wanted for me anyway. Because he knew what it’d be like. Then there was Mamá with her social work. She was in her element. Always fighting someone’s corner, especially during the suffrage movement. I think I was the odd one out in the family, ‘cos everyone else seemed to have…a calling except for me. So, I studied, got a business degree, became a buyer for various companies and ended up in the coffee industry. And the rest is history.”

“Good for you. And I guess that explains Horacio’s, er, distaste for a badly made cup of coffee.”

“Yep. He’s got no excuse. And neither do you anymore.”

“I’ll bear that in mind. Your turn.” Javier took the bottle this time and filled Alejandra’s glass.

She downed it in one go. “¿Por qué no un llanero ahora que has descartado ser policía?” (Why not a llanero now you’ve ruled out being a police officer?)

“¿Por qué no un vaquero?” (Why not a vaquero?) Javier corrected with a glint in his eye that Alejandra returned with an eye roll. “Like you said…there are other jobs. That one was just never for me. I need more variety day-to-day. Like I’m making a bigger difference somehow. But preferably without the pretty fucking significant risk of death or blackmail.”

“A fair demand.”

“Right? It’s not like I’m asking for a raise.”

“When I moved here, I didn’t know where life was taking me, especially when the kids came along. I couldn’t keep my old job because of all the travelling…and being a mother was the priority until they started school. It took me a while to find my place on the buying and selling side of the business. So, all I’m saying is, things might get clearer once you’re settled back in Laredo.”

“I’ll drink to that.” Javier raised his glass and nodded his thanks to Alejandra, touched by her unprompted advice.

His third and final question had arrived, and the pressure to make it a good one pressed uncomfortably on his increasingly fuzzy head. “If your father was here now, what would you say to him?”

For a brief second, Javier feared he had overstepped some forbidden and invisible line and been overfamiliar with someone he only really knew by proxy at this stage.

But whilst Alejandra’s smile was permanently stained with traces of grief, warmth flickered then grew in her charcoal eyes. “I’d tell him we’re fine. That we miss him and wish he’d come back for good but that he needn’t worry. Because even though Mamá didn’t always get things right, she steered us through it as best she could. And we didn’t turn our backs on the world. That we found love in the dark.”

Alejandra sniffed and wiped the back of her hand across her nose. “Sorry. I think it’s the alcohol.”

“No, don’t be sorry.” Javier paused to clear his throat, blinking his vision back into focus. “It was beautifully said.” His hand reached for hers across the table, hoping again that he hadn’t gone too far.

But she let his hand rest there until she shook her head like a wet dog and poured her final shot. “Same question to you about your mother, obviously,” she said before downing the aguardiente in one.

Javier scoffed. “Well, I guess I deserved that.” He took his time, collecting his thoughts as though he was preparing an important speech. As though he’d been trying to find the right words for most of his life – and how rarely he’d succeeded.

“I’d tell her I miss her morisqueta. I’d tell her Pops visits her every week. But then I think she already knows that. Same way I think she made sure he never re-married.”

Javier couldn’t help but laugh, seeing with perfect clarity where his own loyal streak came from when his Pops was still as devoted to Mariana as the day they married. Siempre tuyo was no exaggeration.

“I’d make sure she knew he wasn’t alone, though. That he was known as Don Chucho to most in Laredo. That she’d be proud of him for growing the community she helped start. I’d brag about all the tamales we’ve made and quote her favourite poems. I’d introduce her to Horacio.”

He envisaged showing her Horacio’s poetry book, knowing that all it would take was for her to read Javier’s message in the opening pages to understand everything about who they were to each other. He’d even dreamed of it, waking with a ridiculous hope that she had somehow intercepted it.

“She sounds as incredible as your father. I hope one day I can thank him for taking my little brother under his wing when he needed it the most.”

“I’m sure that could be arranged.”

“I can’t – and don’t want to – imagine where he would have ended up without either of you, to be honest. He told me about the ambush…and everything else. And even though it doesn’t feel nearly enough, I just want to say...thank you.”

At first, Javier could only nod and swallow the lump bobbing at the base of his throat. “He did the same for me. It wasn’t easy walking away from my job, don’t get me wrong, but it was different for him. He felt like he’d betrayed Colombia and his Papá. Yet he did it anyway.”

“When it’s the right person, the sacrifices are worth it. And I can’t think of anyone more worthy of wearing that.” Alejandra’s sightline had fallen to Javier’s neck. His chest may have now been covered, but the silver chain still poked out from beneath the seam of his shirt.

She poured them a bonus shot each and raised her glass. “Welcome to the family.”

[snippychicke]

It's Just business 5: Cleaning

TADAAAA

Fandom: One Piece (LA mainly)

Rating: Teen so far

Pairing: Sanji/Reader

Warnings: No real warnings, but god, I hope you like pining

Summary: You felt like you had known Sanji forever, considering your family had been the main merchants Zeff used to supply the Baratie. You had a small crush on him, but knew it was hopeless considering you were the one woman he didn't seem to pine over. 

It was fine. Or so you thought until you ended up on the Going Merry as a bookkeeper and supply manager. Being around him 24/7 was a lot more difficult than just a few days a week.  

(Please note 》°《 denotes a scene in the past while -*- will be a regular scene break. Because yeah, I like my non-linear story telling.)

Masterpost | Ao3

Cleaning 

Sanji was lost in thought as he cleaned the galley after breakfast. Granted, there wasn't much. Zeff had drilled it into him to clean as he went. He did more out of habit, as well as allowing himself the time to think.

He was overjoyed that you had joined the Straw Hat crew despite your obvious hesitancy. Leaving Baratie and Zeff was one thing-- it was hard but also freeing. Like a bird leaving the nest once it was fully fledged, and taking flight to find its own way in life. 

But leaving you? That hadn't sat so well in his chest. Despite not actually being in his day-to-day life, you were still a constant. He had counted the days passing on the Baratie by how many more until you returned. 

The mere idea of not seeing you for who-knew-how-long had terrified him. Never seeing your smile again, or being able to wrap you in his arms tight and feeling you all but melt against him as you squeezed him back? It would be a nightmare. 

Thank the gods you decided to follow. He had been over the moon when you conceded; you and him, finding the All Blue. Together, just as he often dreamt. 

He hadn't really given much thought as to why you caved despite your initial reluctance. But after last night…

-*-

"So why are you flirting so much with Nami when you already have a girlfriend?"

Everyone in the men's quarters froze at Usopp's sudden question. Sanji was convinced he had misheard him, which - considering they were all getting ready for bed - was understandable, and asked: "I'm sorry, what?"

Usopp fidgeted, obviously uncomfortable with everyone's attention now on him and the tense feeling in the air. "I mean, you've been flirting with Nami kinda hard. Like, full-on heart eyes whenever our navigator is even mentioned. So do you and our new helmsman-slash-bookeep have like, and open relationship, or…" 

Sanji laughed despite the uncomfortable feeling of his face growing warm. "God no, nothing like that. We're just close friends is all." 

The silence didn't ease any, and all three men were staring at him now. "What?" Sanji finally asked. "Do you have a problem with that?" 

"Just the fact it's bullshit," Zoro muttered, one eye opened from his own hammock. 

Sanji crossed his arms. "Well I wouldn't expect you to know much about having friends." 

"Nah. Zoro's right," Luffy added. "You two are closer than friends." 

He was definitely blushing by now, and the urge for a cigarette was itching at him. "I assure you, we are not. There is nothing romantic between us." 

Which, that was a half-truth. He couldn't deny the fact he was still in love with you, at least not to himself. He was convinced no matter what, he was always going to love you. But you had made it clear you weren't interested in him that way, and he'd respect that. 

"Like I said, bullshit." 

-*-

Why had you decided to change your mind? Was it simply that the bonds of friendship were that strong, and you were already wavering that his request had broken your resolve?

Sanji had given up on you returning his feelings years ago. He had flung himself into trying to find those same emotions in other women in an attempt to cover up the ache from the realization no matter what he did, you never believed he was being serious. 

That plan had worked - for the most part - back at the restaurant. It had only ached a little bit when you and him would steal a bottle of wine and escaped to the back deck to catch up. To hear your laughter echo across the night, cheeks darkened from the alcohol. Or the fact you would end up cuddled to his side after a few drinks, desperate for human touch after being by yourself for such long periods of time. He couldn't help but indulge in the chance. Arm slung over your shoulder, dreaming of what-ifs and maybes as you would both lapse into companionable silence. Pressing a kiss to your forehead when he could tell you were on the verge of sleep before gently encouraging you to bed. 

And now he was going to be around you everyday; hearing that laugh, seeing that smile... Nami was a beautiful woman, but she had nothing on the way your face lit up with delight as you bantered back and forth. How you literally would try to bite back a smile while pretending to be upset. 

How was he supposed to keep his heart contained? If the rest of the crew already thought you were romantically involved, surely you would catch on as well. That the indulgent touches, his pet names, all of it wasn’t as platonic as you believed.

Would there be that disgust in your expression like when you caught him flirting with others--Nami included? Would you be angry? Or would you laugh in his face before pity overcame your expression and you told him you would never feel that way for him? 

Could he even dare to hope that maybe, despite everything, you’d blush shyly and smile at him? Or-- more likely-- smack his arm while burying your face against him as you were prone to do when embarrassed. 

God, if only.

Sanji was pulled out of his thoughts as the door opened and you wandered in, face reddened by the sun and wind. "Damn, you've really been busy. I expected at least a few of Luffy's dishes left." 

Sanji smiled as he threw the dish towel over his shoulders before leaning against the island separating you. "It's easy to clean when he doesn't leave anything but crumbs. Were you going to come help, or do you have something else on your mind?"

You shrugged your shoulders as you leaned against the island as well, mimicking his pose. "Mmm, sorta? Mostly just missing the covered helm of my ship, to be honest. I'm going to be sunburnt as hell, but also I just wanted to come bother you." Your smile grew as you winked. "Just think, I get to be a pain in your ass all the time now." 

That damned smile of yours was going to be the death of him, yet at the same time he knew he'd die a happy man. "How ever am I going to survive the horror of being stuck on a ship with two lovely women as well as being the boss of my own kitchen?" He teased back, delighted as your face turned darker yet and you looked away. 

"You dork," You scoffed. "You would be in seventh-heaven right now. I can't believe we're heading to the freaking Grand Line. As pirates. My parents are probably swearing up a storm right now." 

Sanji chuckled as he turned to start making you something to help cool you down. "I'm still surprised you agreed. Don't get me wrong, I'm happy as well, just surprised." 

"Yeah, well, I seemed to recall saying something about you being stuck with me forever." 

His smile grew as he remembered that promise-- shortly after your parent's death as you decided to continue their work. He knew you had no interest in working the Baratie; you weren't one to stay in one place for long, nor were you fond of the large crowds. 

He had been so worried it meant he would never see you again --that you would sail away one last time, never to return. He hadn't been able to keep himself from pulling you against him tight, mentally thanking every deity yet again when you decided to keep your parent's transport route. 

"And I said you'd never be alone." Sanji poured the ice drink into a glass and handed it to you, smiling softly as you met his gaze. He meant it back then, as well as now. Even if it ended up killing him. 

》°《

One of the cooks had left out a bottle of Brandy. And well, Sanji had been assigned to clean up for the night, and you had decided to ‘keep him company.’ 

Teenagers did stupid things, and neither of you were immune to that fact. 

The kitchen was roughly cleaned, though Sanji could admit he spent more time talking with you, leaning against the same counter you sat on - especially once he mastered mixing up Brandy Alexanders. The more the late hours wore on, the more Sanji was entranced with you. Watching your eyes catch the light from the overhead lamps, or run your tongue along your lips to catch a bit of the creme from your drink. 

Sanji would be willing to argue you had started things first; when you leaned forward so you could play with his hair, your fingers stroking his cheek softly... He wasn't sure what enticed you, but held still as if afraid moving would scare you away. 

Yet when you finally met his gaze, cheeks flushed as you bit your lower lip, Sanji couldn’t help himself. He leaned closer, one arm braced on either side of your hips before brushing his lips against yours. He could taste the chocolate still on your lips, making him sigh as he pulled away.

Your hand wrapped around his tie, stopping him. There was a challenging glint in your eye as you pulled him close for another kiss. 

Sanji swore he had died and gone to heaven as he indulged himself. Kissing you properly like he had always dreamed about, tasting the remnants of drink on your lips along with your own natural taste - that was better than any meal he had tasted. His hands moved to your thighs, squeezing the soft flesh lightly as he pulled you closer, so tempted to see if he could convince you to part them so he could step closer still; to have those strong legs wrap around his waist, to press his hips against yours…

Except before he could push his luck, you pulled away, gasping for breath. “Wait. Stop.”

He groaned, but rested his forehead against yours as he placed his hands back on the counter. “What’s wrong?” He asked, though silently swore to himself that if you hinted he was a bad kisser again…

“It’s just… too much,” You whispered. “We-we’ve had too much to drink. This isn’t us.” 

Sanji leaned back, his eyes meeting yours. He wanted to confess that this was exactly what he had always wanted - that this was what he wanted as much as finding the All Blue. But even in the haze of bliss and brandy, he could see the hesitancy - the fear - in your eyes, and it cut him straight to the core. 

He gripped the edge of the counter tightly as he forced a smile. “As my lady wishes.” He pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead before stepping back, offering a hand as you slid down from the counter. “Do you want me to walk you back to your ship?” 

You shook your head, face flushed. “No. But… thank you.” 

Watching you walk away was like cutting his own heart out, but he stood strong as he shoved his hands in his pocket. 

[shuxiii]

Love you two times

Huh Yunjin x reader

a/n: this piece of rat doodoo was in my draft for a solid 5 months now (estimated it) and I wanted it gone my bad if it's so bad.

synopsis: starting a new life in a foreign country is difficult as is forgetting the past you once lived. but the person you once loved brought back to your present, reliving the past you once avoided, will you ever want them back?

‘‘Argh, moving into a new country is a pain in the ass.’‘ You groaned, as you roughly let go of the heavy boxes in your hand laying down on the carpeted floor of your empty apartment. 

You recently got accepted in a company abroad as an intern, with your parents helping you rent an apartment that’s near your work, made you grateful they loved you despite being a shitty child.

‘‘Yeah, its a pain in the ass, but at least I’m finally getting my dream job.’‘ You spoke back to nothing, giggling on the floor, looking like a mad woman, with sweat dropping against your forehead. 

You were happy to start fresh, America was a hellish place for you, everything there was so full of dreadful memories, and now you finally got the chance to put aside your past and start anew. 

You sighed, standing back up, dusting your clothes, craving something to eat after hearing your stomach growl. But to your dismay, your boxes weren’t filled with food, instead just boring clothes and items you brought to your newly homed apartment.

‘‘I should just probably buy some noodles across that convenience store.’‘ You murmured to yourself, before picking up your wallet and jacket, leaving shortly after.

You walked the bustling city of Seoul, the beautiful scenery reflecting back at your sparkling eyes. So pretty. 

you entered a 24/7 convenience store, walking on each aisle, looking for a particular noodle you specifically searched for, your eyes shinning at your favorite ramen, you rushed quickly at the coincidentally last ramen on the shelf, your hands reaching out for it only to feel another hand against yours. 

You were taken aback as you glanced to the side, to see a quite tall girl despite the mask hiding half her face you knew she was quite young, making you nervously let go of her hand. 

‘‘Oh, y-you can have it.’‘ you stammered, since you weren't fluent in Korean, it was quite hard to speak coherently without stuttering in the process.

‘‘Really? Cool!’‘ her eyes gave away her masked smile, jumping slightly before taking your hand and shaking it dramatically.

‘‘I’m Eunchae-’’ Her eyes widen, her hand covering her mouth despite the mask already covering it, she looked like she just exposed something, as you gaze back at her confusingly.

"Hi Eunchae, I'm Yn" You responded, feeling a bit perplexed by her rapid shift in facial expressions from shock to confusion to relief.

‘‘It’s nice to meet you, yn, thanks for this ramen, I owe you one if I see you again!’‘ You chuckled as she let out a squeal, unable to contain her excitement.

She waved her goodbyes at you one last time before leaving the store.

‘‘Well, there went my favorite ramen, but at least I gave it to someone adorable.’‘ You chuckle back at yourself, hoping to see her again, oddly enough she reminded you of your little sister, making you smile a little wide, good memories dwelling in your thoughts.

-

You laid back down on your soft fabric bed after eating nothing but ramen, you were quite still hungry but it was way too late, and your first day as an intern started tomorrow, you don't want to leave a first bad impression on your record by being late.

drowsiness overtaking you, as you slowly drown in sleep, excited for what tomorrow will bring you.

-

Well crap, you thought, running on the street, your blazer flying crazy against your body, your head disheveled, with your only breakfast which was bread, stuffed in your mouth. You were almost late. 

You went faster than anyone could to the entrance, apologizing to the old guard, who took quite a fright at your sudden bolting to the door, before repetitively pressing the elevator button, you cursed as you saw the floor number, it was currently at the highest floor, making you abruptly run to the emergency exit stairs.

This was not what you expected for your first day, this was like a race to satan’s door. 

Your body dripping in sweat, your chest harshly heaving up and down, gasping for air. You finally reached the floor.

You tiredly opened the door to the room before collapsing on the couch inside the recording studio room.

‘‘A-Am I late?’‘ You sttuttered, barely able to finish your sentence corherently.

‘‘Nope, you’re right in time.’‘ The producer cheerly gave you a thumbs up, smiling back at your slouched figure.

Who smiles at a monday morning. You thought.

-

‘‘Well, as expected their late again.’‘ The producer muttered, looking at his watch, it has been 20 minutes since you came in the room, your body feeling quite better after running a flight of stairs.

"Who?" you asked, looking puzzled at the producer. You got up and walked over to the stereo systems in the room, running your delicate fingers over them gently.

‘‘Oh, it's this newly debuted girl group, since this is your first day as an intern, you're going to observe me, and maybe give out ideas or two for their new comeback!’‘ he happily explained, his eyes full of passion, clearly enjoying his work. 

As if on cue, the door opened widely revealing multiple girls coming in with their loud voices erupting inside the room, still your back was facing them.

You hear them greet the producer before noticing your presence.

‘‘Yn, I want you to meet Le sserafim!’‘ suddenly the producer’s voice turned deaf in your ears, and the room felt small.

You look back, you felt your heart drop, and the air in your lungs disappeared.

Her figure was not what you expected to see after years, your chest tightens gazing on her face, it didn’t change one bit in fact it looked much more prettier last time you saw her.

Luckily her attention was focused on her phone, giving you time to cover yourself with your jacket, awkwardly moving your body to face your left side to hide your face even more.

‘‘Oh my, it’s her!! she was the one I met in the convienent store!’‘ 

You squint, eyes widening realizing it was the same girl you saw yesterday, her name Eunchae was it. 

‘‘Oh, you mean the girl who you stole the ramen?’‘ a Japanese-looking girl snickered. 

‘‘No, I did not, she gave it to me!’‘ Eunchae dramatically defended herself earning laughs from the other girls. 

‘‘Who?’‘ You suddenly became tense at the sound of a familiar soft voice that you hadn't heard in years. It was clear and loud, causing your heart to race and your body to instinctively hide.

‘‘Oh, her name is Yn, she was the girl I was talking about!’‘ Eunchae explained, making you cringe at her exposing your name just like that at the last person you would ever want to see again.

Her ears twitch at the name, quickly glanced up, looking at your covered figure.

Her focus is now solely on you, tucking her phone away in her pocket, She paused and took a few steps towards you, her heart racing. She needed to confirm if you were the Yn she had been yearning for all these years - the only person she had ever loved.

The producer patted your back, gesturing you to talk back, making the hood that hid your face fall down at the sudden force, giving away your identity. 

Well, shit. 

Your eyes slowly meet her doe brown eyes, catch sight of it, full of unspoken emotions you couldn’t comprehend. And with just that, all of the dreaded memories you hid under your heart, came crashing down to you. 

Yunjin was in shock. After all these years, you looked exactly as she had imagined. She could hardly believe it - finally, she was seeing you again. Her heart swelled with happiness, and she instinctively raised her hand to pull you in for an embrace. However, you moved away, avoiding her gesture.

‘‘I-I um I need to go to the bathroom!’‘ you awkwardly shriek, bumping into the other girls, and running down the hallway. leaving an overwhelmed Yunjin 

-

"Fuck fuck fuck" you leaned against the sink, your hands running through your hair, your teeth between your lips.

"This can't be happening." You repeatedly said, now covering your face with both your hands.

Why does she have to show up now, after all these years? Just when I've finally gotten myself together, I have to work with her.

You took a deep breath, holding your chest, trying to calm down the fast pace of your heartbeat.

"I can handle this. Just maintain a professional attitude and everything will be alright," you reassure yourself. Taking a deep breath, you calm your nerves and regain your composure.

-

‘‘What was that all about?’‘ Chaewon nudged Yunjin’s side, whispering at her. 

‘‘What.’‘ Yunjin mumbled seemingly staring at the floor, like it was the most interesting thing to look at. 

‘‘Like you almost pulling that new girl in your arms, almost as if you knew her.’‘ Chaewon crossed her arms against her chest, now sitting straight on the couch.

‘‘It was nothing.’‘ 

Chaewon raised her brows, clearly uncoinvinced by the short excuse.

‘‘Dont lie to me, Jennifer.’‘ 

Yunjin sighed, her lips forming a frown. ‘’She...She’s my ex.’’ 

Chaewon let out a gasp, quickly concealing her surprise at the major revelation.

‘‘What?! Do you mean the one you always talk about? That was her?’‘ Chaewon loudly whispered now moving closer to Yunjin.

‘‘yes." Yunjin sighed for the third time, what was she thinking of course you'd act like that. After all, it wasn't like you guys were still bestest of friends after she left you, even when she promised she'd keep in contact but she never did.

"how about you talk to her?" Chaewon suggested.

"I wish, but It seems like she doesn't want me to." Yunjin pouted, playing with the ring on her finger.

"Do you still want her back?" Chaewon firmly spoke.

"I do but-"

“No buts, if you still love her and really do want her back, you should show her that, show her that you wouldn't make the same mistakes, Go for it!” chaewon jokingly shake Yunjin’s slouched figure, her eyes full of sincerity.

Yunjin smiled softly, her hands on her lap.

��Okay, I’ll prove it to her, I will, thanks Chaewon I really needed this.”

Chaewon smiled back patting Yunjin’s back.

-

Since that day, Yunjin has been a constant presence by your side. You can always spot her in your peripheral vision, and she always seems to be focused on you. She finds ways to strike up conversations with you and subtly suggests grabbing a meal together. She even makes excuses to prolong her time with you.

Despite that, the challenges of getting you back was harder than she thought, you’d always have an excuse of being busy or you had somewhere to go. Of course, she knew that was a clear lie, and she understands that but she didn’t expect it to hurt her that much, you avoided her, but that didn’t make her stop pursuing you. Getting you back was hard work she’d commit to just to have you back in her arms.

-

Yunjin wiped the beads of sweat that dropped against her brows, her heavy breathing echoing in the practice room.

She stayed a little more, to rehearse the dance step she had a little hard time learning. Alone in the room she sloppily walked towards her water bottle chugging it down, the water dripping on her shirt.

She checked her phone, it was 12 a.m in the morning. She groaned stretching her arms, moving them in a circular motion.

She picked up her sling bag, texting her manager to pick her up from the company.

She stood in front of the entrance, shivering at the cold breeze that passed her, receiving a reply from her manager, saying she'd be a little late because of the harsh weather.

she took a seat on the waiting benches, playing with the keychain of her bag, yawning with the tears building up at the corner of her eyes, the rainy night made her drowsy.

That is, until she noticed someone in her field of view, it was you beyond the entrance door, standing against the pouring rain, slightly damp but safely protected by the building's roof from the heavy rain.

Suddenly, the drowsiness that had engulfed Yunjin has turned into concern and worry as she sprints towards you.

You felt a coat cover your freezing body, the familiar pungent scent of the jacket made you look back.

‘‘What, are you doing here?!’‘ She shrieked, grabbing hold of your wrist to pull you back inside the building, but your body didn’t budge at all. 

‘‘I’m admiring the rain.’’ You whispered gently, your gaze now fixed on her bleached hair; you loved it better when it was black.

As she let out a soft sigh, her grip on your wrist loosened and she eventually released your hand, though the sensation of her touch lingered on your skin.

She stood a little closer to you, feeling the warmth of her body.

‘‘Why are you soaked?’‘ her eyes looking at the tree’s moving into the rhythm of the wind.

‘‘I was going to walk home but the rain chased over me, so I had no choice but to go back here.’‘ You played against the hem of her soft fabric jacket.

The wind became louder, the rain falling against the roof drowned out the loud hammering of Yunjin's chest, being this near to you made her happy, a lot happy.

But the silence was something Yunjin couldn’t stay in forever, she was willing to ask you again and again.

‘‘Yn.’‘ Her voice came to a whisper that the wind overtook.

‘‘Hm.’‘ 

‘‘Whatever we had, can we have it back?’‘ 

The emptiness of silence you gave her made her heart ache even more, her eyes carefully glancing at your physique, your countenance blank.

"Why. Why repeat the past and only hurt the both of us, again." You let go of the hem of the jacket. Now your hand forms a tight fist.

"But it won't happen again, and I won't leave you like before." She grips both of your hands tightly, her voice shaking slightly from the cold or perhaps from the fear of losing you again.

“oh really, now that you have everything you ever wish for, you think it’s easy to go back to the way it was. Because ever since you left me, I’ve been counting every second and every minute of you gone, dreading for you to come back, but you never did, if you really did love me maybe. maybe this would have never happened.’’

All of Yunjin's memories flashed before her eyes, and the expression you gave her was the same. The same dreadful look you gave her as she went away. It caused her heart to tighten in an awful way.

‘‘I get that you were chasing over your lifelong dream, but what about me? where did I stand in your life? did you ever place me in your future, or was I ever in it to begin with? ’‘

‘‘You are-’‘ 

‘‘If I ever was then, maybe you still kept in touch with me, but you never did, did you?’‘ 

Of course, what reply could she ever give to you with that sentence? and she deserved this, she was selfish, she never thought what you felt. It’s true when they said love makes us both selfless and selfish, you were selfless enough to accept that she left you over her silly dreams yet you always told her, she was special to still dream.

''Then, give me a second chance I'll prove to you that I can still fix things!''

''We aren't the same people we used to be-''

Yunjin hugs you tightly, putting her head against your shoulder.

''Please, yn we can still fix this because after all these years I still love you, people do change but my love for you didn't. I can't afford to lose you again so please, can you take me back''

''Please..''

before you could even give an answer, a car stopped beside you both. showing her manager in the driver's seat.

You felt the once tight embrace slowly loosening, she had to let you go.

''think about it, I'll give you space'' last words she said before avoiding your gaze into the car.

-

ever since that day, it has been a week since she stopped bothering you. you'd walk past her at times and be in the same room as her yet, she felt far away from you, she avoided your gaze and only ever spoke when it was important.

And the more she did distance herself from you, the more it distracted you. why was it difficult for you, this is what you wanted right. yet, it didn't feel nice at all.

so here you were, in a bar driven nuts with drinks you could gaze upon, chugging it all whole.

''Yn, I think you've had enough..'' Your friend, Kai spoke looking anxious at your drunken state.

''I'm fine, I'm fine'' you motioned your hands at him, slurring in the process.

''Seriously, I think we should go home'' Kai, holds onto your arms ushering you to stand up. but you push his hands off, muttering no's, hugging the chair.

''Why won't she just leave me alone, why is she giving me space. I hate her so much'' You muttered, laying your head against the chair.

everything went black, and you felt someone holding onto you. You opened your eyes slightly, you were in the parking lot, your arms up on someone's shoulders. someone was carrying you.

''Thanks for picking her up'' You heard Kai talk to someone.

''Don't worry I'll take care of her, thanks for taking care of her'' The familiar voice perked your ears, making you glance to your right, to see her. Yunjin was carrying you.

You heard them bid goodbye as Yunjin, carefully put you on the passenger seat, gently holding onto your arms to help you.

Why was she the one picking you up?

You both shortly arrived at your apartment, and she left the driver's seat. You hazily look at your window pane, seeing her open the door holding your arm onto her shoulder and helping you up.

''Be careful'' She mumbled.

You stumbled a little, going inside the apartment the room was dimly lit, and she lays you down on the couch.

''I'll get you a glass of water, I'll be back-''

before she could even step foot away from you, you gripped tightly on her wrist. She gazes back at you startled.

''Don't leave me'' You muttered.

''I'll just get something, I won't be too long'' She tries to remove your hold, but you only gripped it even more tightly. Pulling her close to you.

''You already left me once, don't do it twice'' You slurred.

''Okay, I won't'' She sits on the floor, letting you hold her hand for a while.

There was a moment of silence until,

''I miss you''

''You miss me?'' She said.

''No, I've been missing you ever since had your back faced to me, I've been missing you even when you stood right in front of me'' Your eyes stared back at Yunjin's glistening ones.

''I missed you even when you were still mine''

Yunjin's heart took its pace, feeling overwhelmed at such a revelation, but she shouldn't get ahead of herself, you were drunk after all.

''Yn, you're drunk,'' she spoke.

''Let's just talk about this tomorrow when you're sobered'' She stood up, but you persisted gripping tightly on the hem of her shirt.

''I can try, I'll learn to love you again- so don't leave me'' Your voice filled with drowsiness.

She faces back at you, with a gleam in her eyes. Brushing the strands of hair covering your face.

''Okay, I won't leave you.''

[dipperscavern]

Who up pondering they orb rn? Dipper, that's who!

It's me, chonky, and I hereby request your finest 🔮 reading, please and thank you. Also, sorry for the oncoming wall of text.

As my self-proclaimed title suggests, I am chonky. I'd say I'm probably mid-sized actually but that's only really because I lost some weight when covid happened and the depression rolled in. Anyway, I think I'm 5'5/5'6 but I actually don't know so that's just an estimate based on how tall I am compared to my mom who's 5'11.

I'm biracial but my father's irish-italian genes colonized me so hard, my only afro-centric features I inherited from my mom is my nose, lips, and curly hair, textured around the 3a-3c mark depending on how agreeable my hair is.

I also used to speak spanish when I was way younger because I grew up around my mom's family and she's half puerto rican on her dad's side. Unfortunately, that got whitewashed too when me and my parents moved and I know longer know the language.

I'm from New Jersey but was primarily raised in the New England area of America. I'm (almost) 19 and unlike Jared, I did learn how to read and I enjoy it very much.

I love music of all kinds except country and k-pop is on really thin ice. I'm self-diagnosed autistic and incredibly socially awkward. I make a lot of race jokes but in the "white people can't season their damn food" way instead of the "racist remarks and racial slurs I can't reclaim" way. I'm here, I'm queer, and I really, really need a beer because these damn politicians are going to turn me into an alcoholic, I swear.

I'm a switch but I prefer to dom. Or at least I would. Unfortunately, I get no bitches for I have no rizz. I also have questionable taste in men and women because best believe, you put me in a room alone with Cersei Lannister, her brother (or her lover), Aegon Targaryen II, Aemond Targaryen, Alicent Hightower, or Criston Cole, all them bitches walking out pregnant and I will not apologize for that.

I think that's it. Sorry for the yapfest. All that not talking to people irl manifests into being a blabbermouth online.

-chonky anon

who up pondering they orb rn (me), ANYWAYS, come, dear chonky, and let my crystal friend tell us which man will you love until your timely end 🔮

hm… i see… who is that? no, seriously, who the hell in my orb rn?? OH A PARTRIDGE IN A PEAR TREE— excuse my french, that’s your brother jared. *i outstretch my hand, and a nearby unseen hamster gladly walks on it. i flip it, using its back to rub my eyes clean. you watch in horror as i finish my business, setting the hamster down, and returning my gaze to my crystal ball*

ah, that’s more like it. yes yes… i gaze upon (the first) king in the north, robb stark. the thing that solidified that for me was the race jokes 😭 he’d think you’re sooooo funny, and you remind him a lot of theon (whether or not that hurts his heart after theons betrayal, we’ll never know). and your attitude about politicians is exactly how robb feels 24/7. he’s a great battle strategist, but politics make his head hurt, and he’d love being able to complain with you. the part about being socially awkward and preferring not to speak with people much would tickle robb’s fancy at times, because he feels like he gets you allll to himself. and don’t even worry about the rizz!! robb is a-okay being the charming one, and relishes in being able to tease you all he likes <3

[1eos]

Hi, just read your post about immigrant mothers ruining their kid's jobs. My mother is not an immigrant but she's asian and she cannot for the life of her be considerate with my previous job situation.

I earned 2k monthIy. It's quite low bc we're poor and I have to use half of my pay to support my family. So I decided to take this remote part time job for savings (not just for me but for the family also) and bc of that I am almost in front of my laptop 24/7. It's a report writing job and usually I would have 2 reports weekly to be submitted within 4 days.

My mother hated that I am always in my room doing work and would get so angry because "I listen to the employers more than her". She would make me do a lot of house chores when she knew I was tired from work just to spite me, saying that in the house I do the least chores???? Yeah bc I have a deadline to catch OMG.

Usually I would plan my week for the reports but then she would make me drive her for errands etc and would guilt trip me if I don't do so. Because of this I would stay up all night trying to finish the report just so that she won't throw a fit. Also, I have 2 other brothers who have a lot of free time but just for gaming, not for chores.....but somehow I'm the bad guy......which also makes me believe all asian mothers are "boy moms" but that's for another day.

The problem about these mothers is not because they don't understand their children. It's because they DO NOT WANT to. Because if they do, it means they have to listen/cater to you; not the other way around. They rather die than doing THAT.

first n foremost i haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaate that you're going thru this :(. it's truly thee worst to be sabotaged by a mother its truly so insidious and too many ppl in this day and age think its cute or like something we just have to suffer thru bc hey that lady gave birth to us and helped raise us. like the idea that GIRLS --bc they rarely if ever do this to sons--are literally put on earth to toil and suffer and serve their mothers, brothers, aunties etc until some man comes along and then u serve him w no thought or care for ourselves until we die is sooooooooo pervasive.

like its so sad that in 2024 you have someone purposefully going out of her way to sabotage your hustle :(((((((((((((((((( and i won't do the annoying 'just move out!' bc trust me ik how hard it is to move out right now!!!!!!!!! i will say i hope you maintain the strength and energy to persevere thru the sabotage 😐 you will win. misogyny will not win! m*thers who are mad that their daughters aren't just rolling over to be the family doormat. and its like? you'd think they'd be happy but that post partum jealousy is something else i'll tell you that

i still remember being a kid and my mom waiting until i was totally asleep to force me awake to put two dishes in the dish washer?????? and would be yelling and totally pissed off that im not standing at attention to do the dishes at 11pm 😭😭😭😭😭 bitch i was in literal rem sleep why are u screaming at an unconscious child? just lacking control or excitement in their own lives and take it out on their daughters its fucking sick

bc you're right lolllll its not that they 'dont understand' they deadass do not want to. which is why i don't believe in extending grace for bad mothers in a lot of these situations bc why the hell do i have to put myself in YOUR shoes and suffer disrespect always thinking about YOUR feelings when for the first 18 years you were the ONLY adult??? absolutely bizarre. i hope one day we can stop lighting up mothers for shit they can't control like crying babies or having to breastfeed and clock them for the way theyre cornerstones in keeping the patriarchy alive. and the specific bullshit mothers dole out and get away with it bc society expects total devotion to mothers especially from daughters like i need everyone to wake it up bc there's nooooo reason for a grown ass person to be sabotaging you like that! a lot of us are living in the house with our worst opponents and i hate it!

but bottom line? I AM ROOTING FOR YOU ANONNNN WE WILL MAKE IT OUT OF HERE I PROMMY

[takeariskao3]

can i just say that i love how relatable your ginny is? in many stories ginny is perfect and harry is messed up, but in this they are both a hot mess. and what i love is how you do a great job of portraying ginny’s mindset in a way that not only shows that she blames harry, but also makes the audience blame him. but if you really think about it, she’s just as much the reason if not more that they’re so messed up. not saying harry’s not a complete wreck 24/7, because he definitely is, but our girl’s got trust issues, understandably so cough cough childhood trauma, and she’s all HARRY RUINED EVERYTHING HE DOESNT LET ME IN WHY IS HE LIKE THIS meanwhile this beautiful badass emotional trainwreck of a human is actually blocking him out even more then he’s blocking her and she’s creating problems in her head and making everything way worse for their situation. like harry’s got issues but he’s over being sad and is ready to snog the living fuck out of her and hold her and protect her and be there for her and she’s like why must he be so closed off and push me away and be unwilling to try meanwhile she gets angry every time he so much as breathes and avoids him at all costs but also loves him but has convinced herself it’s all 100% his fault and then gets pissed that she has feelings for him and tells herself more reasons why he sucks. self sabotage at its finest.

i love it. me too ginny

I HAVE HELD ONTO THIS MESSAGE FOR SO LONG BECAUSE I OPEN UP MY INBOX AND READ IT AND GRIN LIKE AN IDIOT!!

also i was reluctant to respond because like HOLY SHIT YOU GET IT!? you know??? you. get. it. and if i go on a total rant about HOW MUCH YOU GET IT i would literally spoil everything lmaooo so i'll try to freak out over this message with minimal spoilers skdfjskldjfs

under the cut because length

when i first set out to start the path from you, i knew the story i wanted to tell, but i knew it had to be a long evolution of both their internal thoughts and their views of each other. because we can make inferences and interpretations of their deepest, most intrinsic thoughts from the source material, but it's really fun for me to ask how does that change after trauma..?

and i knew (I KNEW) i wanted them both to be the most unreliable narrators imaginable. because that's how we think right?? or at least that's how i think, i can't speak for everyone else i suppose, but we rationalize and try to put puzzle pieces together that don't actually fit. and if you look close enough, ginny is such a PERFECT template for this kind of storytelling because she is so strong willed. she is open and emotionally mature with most everyone, except herself?? now a lot of this is me filling in the blanks between CoS and OoTP/HBP but i mean how does a girl spend an entire school year possessed and then just casually go on to be the most well-adjusted, well-liked, social butterfly?

she suppresses. she suppresses HARD.

and with that habit of suppress and overcome, all the sudden she is falling in love? and providing emotional support and a delightful sort of stability to a person who has never felt that in his entire life.

so i ran with it! i sat down and wrote out pages and pages of what ginny thought of harry, and what harry thought of ginny, and how ginny thought harry saw her, and how harry thought ginny saw him... and its the second half of those questions that gets *really* interesting.

how does ginny think harry sees her? how does ginny react when she thinks she can't be that ever again? what happens when suppress and overcome doesn't work anymore? what is she going to do when harry actually decides to open up about something for the first time in his life?

ginny has created this narrative in her head that blames harry and absolves her of guilt because the alternative would be admitting that she has kept him as far away from her as possible because if he saw her (the real her, after all the shit) then she thinks he wouldn't want her anymore. and that is just too devastating for her to even contemplate so she doesn't bother, and she goes along heightening all harry's mistakes in an effort to dampen her own.

and let me tell you... once harry looks outward and stops focusing so much on his own internal war when it comes to his feelings for ginny, he starts getting real tired of it.

[gamesception]

Sception Reads Cass Cain #28

Batgirl (2000) #12 writer: Chuck Dixon pencils: Dale Eaglesham

Batgirl (2000) takes a break from the usual creative team for a tie in to the Batman Crossover of the month, Officer Down. We've seen Eaglesham draw Cass a few times now & he's always solid. Dixon wrote for Cass back in Robin 73, which wasn't the best showing for her. Better this time, if more reliant on narration blocks than I'd like. Kind of odd that this is a 'tie in' rather than part of the story proper. Like they didn't want people to feel they had to buy this issue? I'd say it was a slight against Cass, except it's not like she was kept out of the rest of the crossover, she's in like half the issues.

But the fact that this issue is partially segregated from the rest of the crossover is convenient for me anyway, as it gives me an excuse to just look at this issue on its own this week, while next week we can bundle together the rest of Cass's appearances in the cross over.

Off the top, I have to say I really like the art in this issue. Eaglesham's fast cementing his place as my second favorite Cass artist. And not just because I like the way he draws Cass as Batgirl, but just, I mean, look at this page here, with all the details and personality packed into the scene. Kudos also to Jason Wright, the colorist for this issue, for really capturing this warm cozy homely interior, almost nostalgia-sepia-toned, while everything outside is cold and wet and blue. A single page that really captures Cassandra's isolation. At this point in her story she's basically living as Batgirl 24/7. No alter ego, no normal life, no friends. Not even really any connections apart from her somewhat fraught relationship with Barbara and her extra fraught relationship with Bruce. To see Cass on the outside looking in at the sort of connections that seem so impossibly distant, especially after the run in with her father last issue, it really works.

I also love these panels of Cass navigating Gotham, moving around like a shadow, often in the background or in silhouette. Bits like that convey the spookiness of this Batgirl a lot more than other artists who give her an angry face or emphasize the stitching on her mask or the like.

Love that panel of her rubbing her chin, thinky face clearly visible through the mask. Batman's out, so Cass decides to start investigating on her own. It's nice to see her doing the detective part of the bat-person vigilante job, rather than just leaving that part to Barbara, and Dixon does a good job of walking the reader through her thought process.

He is relying on narration blocks a bit more than I'd like, but he keeps them short and terse. Cass can talk now, but English is still a second language, and that comes across pretty well, imo. I was very critical of Dixons last showing with Cass, but he's honestly doing a solid job with her here, and as much as I don't care for them in general, I think the thought bubbles are helping. Some writers just have a hard time wrapping their heads around a non-verbal character. I'd imagine even just a little bit of language makes thing a world easier.

That said, not to beat a dead horse here, but with Cass speaking a few words here and there like this, they could have believably gotten her to this point through her own effort by studying with Barbara, no psychics required. Just saying.

I guess it hadn't really been decided how much Cass's new speaking ability had translated to reading yet? It seems from these panels that she can read at least a little, at least enough to recognize names and dates as such, which is more than she can do later on. But clearly she's not comfortable or adept enough at reading to get much out of the police files beyond Catwoman maybe being involved, and you can feel her frustration here when she abandons the papers to finally just go ask Babs for help.

Good stuff.

Of course, Babs isn't home either.

Again, I really like the way Eaglesham draws Cass. I like it more each time he shows up in this retrospective. Love little head tilt in the first panel, love the cape in the second panel there, very dracula-esque. Love that we can kind of see her face through the mask, makes her feel like a person.

Oh, you poor random doofus goons.

There's an ok fight scene at one of Selina's safehouse, albeit against no-name mooks. The panels are well drawn, the fight's perfectly readable, but it still feels pretty arbitrary, like hitting a minimum action quota for the issue.

Regardless, Selina isn't there, and the issue ends with Cass abandoning her solo efforts to go find the others.

As an event tie in the overall issue feels... pretty unnecessary. Nothing is really discovered, the story isn't advanced at all, nothing much happens. Makes sense that it wasn't an official part of the crossover, though you're left kind of wondering what the point was at all.

Even so, I kind of like the issue regardless. Eaglesham does a spectacular job with the art all the way through, and Dixon seems to have a much firmer handle on the character this time around. We get some solid panels of Cass trying to do some detective work on her own, something we rarely see, and the excellent bit early on of her flittering around through the city like a shadow. That sense of isolation from the first page really permeates the entire issue even if if the plot never touches on it, with Cass seeking out the only two people she really knows only for both of them to be out.

So yeah, even if nothing that happens in the issue really matters much, even if it doesn't really tell a stand alone story per se, I still like this one a lot.

[alice-drysdale]

Guidance (part 1)

This is about Tom Hiddleston who’s playing a High-school teacher and an OC of mine Alice.

No one is allowed to copy my story’s or translate them!

Warnings: underaged drinking, suicidal thoughts, abusive behavior, toxic parenting, eating disorder

Her body wakes up every day on its own accord. Her room is cold. Her window is broken and the cool wind blows inside the room 24/7. She had the same sheets for one and a half years now. Because nobody washes them. Ands Her family doesn’t own a washing machine.

She walked to her closet and pulls out a T-Shirt and pants. Dressing herself as fast as she can. She puts a bit make up on, mascara and blush, just to feel a little pretty like the girls in her class. She brushed her ginger hair and leaves it open flowing to her shoulders.

She walked down the stairs as quiet as she can, she doesn’t want her parents to wake up and scream at her again for being too loud.

She makes herself something to eat for lunch later even tho she doesn’t really want to eat anything after being Called “way to fat” for the 100th time yesterday because she didn’t fit into her 7th grade clothes anymore.

She put on some shoes, her jacket and went out and starts to walk to school.

School.

For some it’s a nice way to meet up with your friends every day and hang out with them. For some it’s an annoying place where you get grades for a few sentences you have to write down on a pice of paper.

But for Alice it was a way to escape the hurtful acts and words from her parents. She doesn’t want to sugarcoat it. School is still extremely stressful and hard sometimes. But still better then “home”.

She’s doesn’t have any real friends but at least no one bully’s her. Maybe it’s even her own fault that she doesn’t got friends. Always staying away from social events, never trying to talk to anyone but always hiding.

The only person she somehow interacts with is a teacher in her school but never had him as a teacher herself. She doesn’t even know what he teaches. But he seemed nice.

It started 3 weeks ago when Alice set in the library even tho it was lunch time. She set down at a table in a corner looking something up on her phone.

That was when he walked past her. „hello” he said. Alice escaped a little „Hi” putting the phone away. Because teachers don’t like to see students on their phones.

He set Down at a different table pulling out a folder with a lot of papers and a small lunch box.

This little interaction, the “Hello” was something she looked forward too every day. She doesn’t know why. But it was a nice act. Just like today.

He came in and she was sitting at her usual table. „Hello” „Hi” he sits down but doesn’t pull out his lunch box wich was unusual. And suddenly she felt a kind of bravery she never felt before. She stands up nervously and walked to the table he was sitting at.

„Is it okay if I sit here?” She asked quietly. He looked up at her surprised but gave her a small smile „of course”. She set down and plays with her hands breaking the silence again.

„Where Is your lunch sir?” He looked up confused „pardon?” She was really nervous now „um… I just- you always got lunch with you but now you don’t I was just confused why… ” the more she talked the quieter she got. She’s so fucking stupid. Why would she asked something so dumb

But he chuckles and he noticed that she got nervous and wanting to put her at ease „you are right usually I got lunch with me, but I had a lot of stress this morning and forgot it on my kitchen counter”

„oh no” she giggled. She pulled something out of her bag. It’s a a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. It’s a bit mushed but she offered it to him. „ I know it doesn’t really look appetizing but it tastes good.”

Tom looked at the girl and smiled at her „that’s very kind of you but I can’t take a students lunch my dear” he laughed. She looked at him with big green eyes. „why not?” She asked.

„Well you need something to eat too we don’t want you to be hungry the whole day hmm?“ she put it on the table nodding but not eating it.

„If I may ask what are you teaching sir?” Alice asked curious. „English and sports I’m Mr Hiddleston and you are?” „I’m Alice Bielefeld”

„Bielefeld? Sounds German” he asked „yeah my father is German” she said. „wow can you speak German?” Tom asked curious. „yes I can, but not as good as my father though”

The bell rung and she stood up „have a great day mr Hiddleston I have to go to my next class now” he nodded „of course goodbye Alice“

She walked to her next class with a smile on her face hoping he will eat the sandwich she left on the table.

And in deed he did.

——————————————————————————

wow part 1 is done :D ! If you have any wishes or suggestions how the story should carry on don’t be shy and write me! if you want to get tagged in the next part write your name in the comments!

[hellbubu]

Ugh, its awful. I need to mask SO hard whenever I'm home. I explained to mom about my social battery and now she uses that expression alllll the timeee....but she doesn't seem to realize I'm including *her* too, in the 'people that tire me out' category ¬¬ She gets mad I go to bed late, but it's the only time of peace and quiet where i can do stuff without noise and interruptions from others! Usually when im alone im a depressed useless lump half of the day, but the need to mask with a smile and answer and interact and be *cute* is just so engraved in me i do it automatically and it never ends *cries* Sorry for the rant lol (also, im too tired to write correctly so sorry for that)

Derrick forcing the others to play bad and Red house losing AND redmond not noticing would be hilariousssss

Oh, man, imagine a teen movie with this plot xDDD I'd watch the hell outta that!

Ikr!! Like, WHO kills someone to supossedly 'solve a problem' and immediately goes 'and bringing them back will solve everything! Like, why ?? If getting rid of him was the solution, why bring him/them back...??? Ugh, teenage boys. La edad del pavo, indeed.

Gaaahhh, imagine Druitt being a friend of the LM. *shivers* I mean, it makes sense? All these pervs seem to run in the same circles...(although LM has the 'easiest' option of taking what he wants from helpless children 24/7 9 months of the year, and the security of them not being brave enough to tell anyone or being able to scape. Imagine the nightmare of having caught the eye of that creep, blergh.)

Fr, fr, we se Seb, LM, UT and....one more teacher? For such a 'prestigious' institution, the education sure seems lacking (this is why they send the royal brats off to Eton lmao)

Right, right???? They should have totally manage to escape! And we weren't shown any more violence or blood or ANYTHING. So what. happened. (Also, I imagined Violet with the knifes cause there's no way he'd be able to take on two guys lol. Poisoned darts would work as well, Dementia!)

asjdhakjafhsdkjfshd, I've seen all kind of theories! Still, all I know is that UT is obssessed with Phantomhives but somehow doesn't care about killing Ciel OR about who slaughtered them. (Alsoooooo....if UT was able to save r!ciel's body before seb burned the body...does this mean he was there??? inside the house where they were torturing the boys??? for how long????? why didnt he save them????)

Poor Joanne. Truly, a hellish year. *tu-tush!* Also, he was probably so relieved about the canoe incident since people would talk more about that than him...only to end up pissing himself in front of the others. ALSO! Was he even made prefect?? Like, i saw a post about him being too young and being passed over, which would MAJORLY suck, since the other prefects are the only people he can talk about that night with. But the blurry red house prefect we see is blonde so idk. (I bet you he joined the boyband purely out of pettiness to fuck the P4 over. Im sure the others -except Soma, poor clueless baby- joined for the same reasons lol)

Awww, that's so cute! And a totally worthy endeveour for a 2nd son to invest in! FU r!ciel (i wanna like you, bb, but the fandom hasnt given me much hopes about you and i still have to read the manga)

SPEAKING of that. Yana went on hiatus!!!! I'm in despair.

Victoria being mad jealous of Claudia over UT would be hilarious. Basic in a 'powerful-women-can-only-be-enemies' kinda way; but hialrious.

I DO feel that if she did order it would have made more sense to 'save' the twins (or at least one) and earn their devotion? Give them a false enemy to burn and keep using them as her loyal dogs. But if she gave the order to erradicate the family completely someone fucked up MAJORLY. I bet heads rolled xD

A shift in power would make sense...but how? An Earl is a looong way from the crown (and with her many children and even grandkids!?). Maybe she started something supernatural over Albert's death? And Vincent found out? Questions, questions.

Beso <3

Constant social interactions are the worst especially when you can't be yourself. Having to act like you're someone else is tiring and you should really get some rest. Like not just sleep or be alone for a bit, but take some days to actually properly recharge, if possible.

He wouldn't force them to play badly during the tournament, only during practice... or at least I hope so. The Red House getting beaten by the Blue House because of Derrick does sound fun tho.

I think that the previous P4 took all the brain cells when they left. Otherwise, why would they 1. think that killing a bunch of boys was a good solution and 2. think that bringing the boys that they killed back to life was a good idea?

Druitt and the LM are both pedos, but I think Druitt would think he's better than LM because he (Druitt) has a title, is a doctor, and gets away with buying and selling kids. LM has to watch in the shadows as boys are beaten, while Druitt goes and kidnaps kids to sell. Druitt thinks LM is in a league waaaayy lower than him. He doesn't seem to even realize LM can do as much as he does (well, maybe not the selling part) and not even be found out. He (LM) brings it up once but Druitt is too busy salivating over a boy (Ciel in a cheap wig and different clothes) to pay attention.

I like to think that the bullies have never been held at knifepoint, so when Violet pulls out one, singular, butter knife they freak out and think Violet will manage to kill them. Meanwhile, Violet is just stabbing air and swinging his knife around while praying that they'll back off so Greenhill can kill them.

Maybe he got there just after Sebastian was summoned or something. He thought "holy shit, if he (Sebastian) knows I'm here, he might just eat the other twin. I need to keep quiet so I can still the other's body. I'll bring him back to life so they can play happy family later."

I think I might like R!Ciel if I read the manga. Alas, I can't. But O!Ciel would always be my fave twin. He's always been so kind. <3

I heard she's working on the ending. I do think it might take a few years for it to end tho. I feel like there's still too many questions for it to end soon. I'm not a manga reader, but even I know that there's still quite a bit left until they start to unravel the Phantomhive murders. Like, the current arc might lead to the final one, but from what I understand SebaCiel have yet to meet UT&R!Ciel again and are on their honeymoon... so quite a while still

Maybe Claudia fucked her over and Vincent was about to too, so she'd rather just get rid of them all. We know she doesn't trust O!Ciel because she had the Charles follow him during the Circus Arc. So it might not be too far-fetched to think that many of the previous Guard Dogs have turned against the crown at one point or another and she might've wanted to start over with a cleaner slate.

I mean, maybe Vincent just saw something he really didn't like and was willing to fuck England over. Let drugs freely on the streets and sell secrets regarding England. But I could be wrong. He does have this dude called Chlaus as an informant and this guy travels a lot. So, if Vincent were to try to fuck shit up and then make a run for it with the help of Chlaus but the Queen finds out...

Besitos :* :*

[cheesybadgers]

Narcos Fic: Old Habits Die Hard (Chap. 18)

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13, Chapter 14, Chapter 15, Chapter 16, Chapter 17, Chapter 19, Chapter 20, Chapter 21, Chapter 22, Chapter 23, Chapter 24

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Masterlist

Pairing: Javier Peña x Horacio Carrillo

Words: 10,316

Summary: As Javier and Horacio make a fresh start in Madrid, they attempt to come to terms with their past, present and future with some unexpected help.

Warnings: 18+ ONLY. Romantic/emotional sex, edging, PTSD symptoms, grief and parental loss, brief discussions of sexuality/coming out, brief mentions of canon-typical violence, smoking, drinking, swearing.

Notes: Ok, so I know I said I wasn't going to be posting for a while, but after some lovely comments I've had on Tumblr this past week, I thought I would show my appreciation by sharing this a bit earlier than anticipated ❤️

Chapter 19 is ready to go, so hopefully I can post that soon, as it's the second half of their Madrid adventures (I had to split it because it got too big for one chapter, oops).

Thank you once again to anyone still following this fic - old or new - I can't believe it's been over two years since I first started it. Never in a million years did I expect it to become, well, this lol. But we are very nearly there now!

I’ve also added to my OHDH trivia post to cover this chapter if anyone is interested. 

Whilst obviously I do not own Narcos or its characters, please do not copy, re-post, or plagiarize this fic in any capacity on this or other platforms. If you wish to create any fan works inspired by it, please provide a credit or send me a message if in doubt.

Chapter 18: One Day at a Time

It was the stillest part of the day, the city suspended somewhere between the dying embers of night and the cusp of dawn. The streets below saw parallel worlds collide as overindulgent revellers staggered alongside coffee-carrying workers who had drawn the short straw.

Neither Javier nor Horacio was a stranger to witnessing sunrise from both sides. But there was comfort in waking up to it rather than being caught unawares when sleep never came.

A raucous catfight had woken them, although the sparring partners had since gone their separate ways and restored calm to the neighbourhood.

Javier surveyed the aftermath from the French doors of the balcony, a pair of arms smoothly securing themselves around his waist, their fingers entwining over his stomach.

“Did I miss anything?” Horacio croaked, grogginess still heavy in his throat, his bare chest radiating welcomed warmth against Javier’s chilled back.

“Just the usual suspects. I know the ginger one lives opposite, but I think the black one must be a stray.”

“The same one that was out here the other day?” Horacio nodded towards their balcony, equipped with a table, two chairs, and a few hanging baskets and potted plants.

“Looked like it.”

“Maybe we should put some food out if it stops by again.” Memories of the stray he and Alejandra played their part in looking after sprung to Horacio's mind. Strangely enough, that had been a black cat too.

“Should I tell Luna she’s been replaced already?”

“Don’t you dare.” At least the teasing took Horacio’s mind off the fact he missed all two-legged and four-legged residents of the ranch tremendously, and according to reports from Chucho, the feeling was mutual.

It had only been weeks since they left Laredo, but the days stretched out longer now. It wasn’t that time dragged, but their pace of life had slowed again. The ranch was a vacation compared to Colombia, but jobs still needed to be done. Here though, they had no commitments.

The first week involved sorting out their apartment. It came fully furnished, but they needed basics like bedding, groceries and warmer clothes. Arriving in Madrid during the winter months was a shock to the system after their balmy Texan Christmas, a fact Horacio probably should have warned Javier about before they stepped off the plane in their short-sleeved shirts.

Not that Javier minded whenever the temperature dropped in the evening, and they would huddle on the couch in front of the electric fire, limbs draped over one another. There was no scent of mesquite wood this time, but that didn’t matter when shared body heat and tactility were more than enough to satisfy as they christened the furniture in their shared home.

The décor was all neutral colours but vibrant paintings of local landmarks and rural Spain hung on the bright white walls. A long corridor stretched from the entrance, with a bedroom, bathroom, kitchen and separate living area branching off it. Despite the modest square footage, the high ceilings and large windows along the external wall made the space light and airy.

The apartment was still dark enough to protect them at this time of day, and semi-closed blinds covered the balcony doors from top to bottom. They could see out the hangings, especially if they were prised apart. But Javier had ensured on the first day they arrived that there was no chance of anyone from outside nosing in. He wasn’t taking any chances, even though that threat was left back in Colombia.

Now the commotion outside had died down, they basked in the peace of their embrace.

“It was the cats that woke you, wasn’t it?” Horacio asked after a contented silence. He had to check, even though there had been a marked improvement in their sleeping patterns lately.

“Yeah, it was. I slept well last night, actually.”

“Me too. Better now I’m getting used to the traffic again.”

“The ranch really makes you forget how fucking loud the city is.” Or maybe, now Javier thought about it, it was the ranch that was so fucking quiet. “I’m still waking up through the night sometimes, cats or no cats. But I guess that might just be getting used to this place.”

“You like it here, though?”

“Yeah, I do. I can see why you wanted to come back.”

“I only wanted to come back with you.” Horacio’s fingers traced idle patterns across the soft curve of Javier’s stomach.

A light shiver ran through Javier as he lolled his head back into the pillow of Horacio’s shoulder. “So you could do this, huh?”

Horacio hummed in agreement against Javier’s neck, his mouth working methodically back and forth as a hand wandered south in search of a trail of dark hair, skirting through the wiry strands.

“Well, it wasn’t for the sangria,” he scathed, his teeth scraping over Javier as though he would rather devour the man in his arms than a glass of that stuff. Maybe it was because they hadn’t drunk much alcohol since Javier returned from Colombia, but neither had taken to it. “And you don’t seem to be complaining.”

“There are worse ways to start the day.” Javier relaxed into Horacio’s hold, allowing himself to be manhandled because there was no rush. There never was anymore.

Plenty of early mornings had begun similarly. Sometimes one man would wake up to the calid pressure of a mouth around his cock, gradually allowing the slow burn of arousal to build whilst they were half-asleep. Other times they would spoon with one held inside the other, barely moving, vaguely dreaming but always on the brink of release.

Then there were times when slow and gentle weren't enough. They had mastered the art of keeping each other quiet, for their apartment walls weren’t the thickest. Not too much, though, because the rhythmic slapping of skin-on-skin or the crisp echo of a palm across the ass was part of the appeal.

But teasing strokes and languorous rolls of the hips were in order now. One hand pumped at an unhurried pace, Javier’s length fitting in Horacio’s grip as though they were made for each other. As though Horacio had every nerve ending and sweet spot memorised as he expertly massaged Javier’s frenulum, extracting a guttural moan that reverberated through their chests in tandem.

Horacio’s free hand mapped Javier’s skin, chasing goosebumps with the calloused pads of his fingers as he found friction at the cleft of Javier’s ass. Each touch and motion a tangible reminder he wasn’t here alone this time, that the solid form in his hold and the stubbled cheek grazing against his were real. That they belonged to each other, not as possessions but as mutual choices made again and again.

Javier luxuriated in a delirious limbo, teetering on the verge but never quite there, the need for release visceral in the pit of his stomach. Yet as he trembled and writhed, alternating between pouting his bottom lip and biting it, a part of him was willing to beg to be kept hanging. Because this was what he had wanted when they were separated by oceans and a misplaced sense of duty, and now he had it, he didn’t want to let it go.

Each twitch or convulsion only made Horacio pull Javier closer, gaining extra purchase with the firm grasp at his hip bone, grinding harder but not faster, lost in dragging the head of his cock in agonising circles, from side to side, then up and down, pausing to let it throb in time with their panting. Knowing he could probe further and give them what they needed, but then it would be game over.

So, they resisted, turning shallow breaths into deeper ones, Horacio ceasing movement whenever they neared the point of no return, reeling them back in like a wound-up coil, forcing them to admire the view below as they fought against every instinct in their bodies.

Javier allowed the balcony door to bear some of their weight with one hand splayed across the clinking blinds, pushing back a fraction just to make Horacio groan in his ear and seize the cross dangling from his neck. His other hand clutched Horacio’s arm, neck, shoulder, whichever part of him he could reach, grounding and anchoring them together.

Whenever they almost succumbed, memories of their time apart would re-focus them in the present; where their legs shook, and their toes curled at every new sensation rippling through their joined form, the anticipation of relief battling with remaining in equilibrium, daring each other to prolong the exquisite agony for as long as possible.

But resistance was inevitably futile. With several final jerks of the wrist and hips, they surrendered control, painting Javier with their release from both sides as they gave themselves over to the white-hot bliss cascading through their synapses, each spasm igniting and stoking flame after flame, consuming and burning until they almost blacked out.

Neither moved as the pink haze of the skyline broached the gaps in the blinds and blushed their fevered skin; the dawn air a perfect tonic to the blazing heat between them. A greeting from the light rather than a reluctant acknowledgement after outstaying their welcome in the dark.

Strong arms encased Javier at his front while a rhythmic beat drummed against his back, catching and soothing him in surroundings that were still relatively new. Steady, grounding, home.

“Good morning, by the way,” Horacio said between tender kisses along Javier’s shoulder.

“Hmm, certainly is a good morning.” Javier shifted to face Horacio, sweeping him up with an open-mouthed kiss as addictive as the first one they ever shared, and oh, how far they had come since then. “Is it too early for breakfast?”

“Not when we’ve built up an appetite.” Horacio nibbled at Javier’s lip to emphasise his hunger. “Although, maybe a shower before I make us some coffee?”

Javier nipped back before instigating another searing kiss, barely breaking it to speak again. “Sounds good to me.”

Nothing was particularly extraordinary about the idyllic scene they had started the morning off with. And yet that in itself was extraordinary. Not so long ago, all of this felt out of reach, something to aspire to or hope for, but not something feasible. But here they were, in their shared apartment, embarking on a new chapter together, taking another leap of faith. Not running away from the past but trying to break free from its shackles, one day at a time. 

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Once they had got their bearings in the first few weeks, they began to venture out bit by bit. First, it was walking around the city’s vast green parks, starting with the nearest and working further away from their apartment each time. Then cooking or takeaway turned into dining in a secluded bistro. And watching TV in the apartment became a leisurely stroll around a museum.

Horacio hadn’t felt much like sightseeing when he was here by himself. But things were different now. Everything was different now, even the city itself, from how the early morning light fell on the buildings to the hustle and bustle of Gran Vía. The crowds were still there in their droves. The shoppers and tourists, who would stop in the middle of the pavement with a street map sprawling across their arms, still needed to be sidestepped at the last second. But it was easier to ignore when Javier was by his side.

It was at this point that Horacio knew there was something he was going to have to do. Something he had been putting off, despite it being something he wanted to do. But that didn’t calm the nerves bubbling in his stomach as he took the familiar walk around the corner from their apartment building and down a cobbled side street. Javier had offered to come with him for moral support, but playing it safe seemed the best option, at least this time, just in case.

As he approached the glass door with its seasonal flower arrangements hanging below the red and gold calligraphic Café Romero lettering, it hit him how much his life had changed since he last visited, how much he and Javier had been through. So how reasonable was it to expect everything to be the same here? He swallowed hard as he turned the handle, the bell above the door jangling as it opened.

The interior looked the same as always. Caramel and beige walls complemented the variety of coffees on the menu and the lush green of potted plants decorating the shelves, in between photos of past and present generations of the Romero family. A large window ran along the front, providing extra lighting and an opportunity to people-watch on busier days.

Horacio could see no staff and only customers, but it was early, so the place hadn't filled up yet. In fact, his usual window seat in the corner was still free. Waves of nostalgia layered with relief rolled over him as he sat down facing the counter.

But it didn’t take long for the face he was looking for to appear from the kitchen carrying a fresh batch of napolitanas de chocolate.

A shriek of delight quickly followed once Señora Romero put down her baking tray and raised her head. She brought her hands to her face in surprise, gathering up her apron at the same time as it caught on her fingers. “Horacio?!”

The intonation of her voice suggested it was a question. But she was already crossing the floor of the café with her arms outstretched.

Horacio rose from his table, making it easier for her to scoop him into a hug reminiscent of the ones his Abuela Margarita gave him as a child.

“It’s good to see you, Señora Romero. I hope you’re well.”

She looked well, her silver hair still tied in a messy bun and her rounded figure and freshly stained apron a sign her passion for food hadn’t waned.

“All the better for seeing you.” She lightly squeezed his cheek as she took in his appearance. “Although you might have warned me, I’d have baked more of those milhojas you liked so much last time.”

“Sorry. I’ve not been back long. I’m still sorting out the apartment and trying to remember my way around.”

“Of course, of course. Rest your feet, and I’ll bring you something over. Your usual coffee?”

Horacio smiled at the fact she had remembered his order. “That’d be lovely, thank you.”

The coffee was as delicious as ever, much like the freshly made churros and accompanying hot chocolate, which Señora Romero gave him on the house despite his protests.

She updated Horacio on her family and how Luisa and her husband, Julián, had become parents since their wedding. Their new arrival, Tomás, meant Señora Romero still ran the café, with Luisa helping out occasionally until Tomás was at school.

Señora Romero rushed to grab some photos from behind the counter, showing off her latest grandson. She was in her element and every bit the doting Abuelita.

“Congratulations, I can see the family resemblance,” Horacio said, passing the photos back.

“I said the same to Luisa! He’s definitely got the Romero nose.” She gazed at the picture before shifting her attention back to Horacio. “So, what did I do to deserve the pleasure of your company?”

Horacio scoffed into his cup, creating ripples across the surface of his coffee as he took a sip. “I don’t know where to start.”

“How about from where we left off?”

Horacio hadn't been looking for sympathy, but naturally, Señora Romero supplied plenty of it, gasping, tutting, and consoling in all the appropriate places when he gave an abridged and redacted version of events since their last meeting.

He spoke more than was ideal about his injury and retirement from the CNP because, by comparison, it was safer ground than the inverted commas silently hugging every use of "friend" a mention of Javier brought.

“Oh, Horacio, my dear. You have been through the wars. How’s your shoulder doing now?”

“Okay, mostly. I still get twinges, but I know I’m lucky.”

“Lucky to have someone like Javier around as well, by the sounds of it.”

“Yeah, you could say that.” Even if he had wanted to stop it, the reflexive smile spreading across Horacio’s face was irrepressible.

Señora Romero studied his features intently, beaming in return once she had finished. “And how was life on a ranch?”

“It was…good, actually. I know it’s not the CNP, but I liked the peace and quiet. And the routine. Something always needed doing or fixing.”

“It might not be the CNP, but that sounds much safer and simpler to me.”

“It was. It was good to feel useful again. Like I was making a difference, even if it wasn’t life or death.” Especially if it wasn’t, more like.

“I know you never talked much about it, but I could see how restless you were trapped behind a desk. You’re a man of action, Horacio. I don’t see that changing no matter which path you take.”

The café was busier now, meaning Horacio was left to finish his churros whilst Señora Romero dealt with the start of the breakfast rush.

As he dipped his last churro in the remnants of hot chocolate, it occurred to him that, once upon a time, his father would have been the central focus of this conversation. And, of course, he had wondered what his Papá would have made of his son living and working on a ranch in Texas, of all places. But it was also a moot point. It was an answer he would never get, regardless of how much he wrung his hands about the hypothetical possibility of disappointing his father.

This was about what was best for him and Javier now. The ranch had been their escape from the madness that was slowly killing them. Although Horacio never knew with absolute certainty what caused his Papá’s heart to fail, it was a plausible theory he overworked himself. And that irony sat more comfortably with Horacio these days. Because as much as his Papá had been a role model since Horacio was old enough to understand the word police, he was also a cautionary tale.

When the rush died down, Horacio helped clear some tables. It was the least he could do in exchange for words of wisdom and a complimentary breakfast.

But Señora Romero didn’t stop there and scuttled off behind the counter. She filled a box with an assortment of pastries and cakes, sealed the lid and handed it to Horacio as he moved towards the door.

“Here, my dear. Some more to keep you going. Enough for two, in fact.”

Horacio fumbled for a response beyond thank you as he accepted the box, wishing he could hide inside it as he sensed her eyes still on him.

Señora Romero’s hand lingered on his for a fraction longer than was customary for a simple goodbye.

He looked up to find the same head tilt and gentle smile he was met with in the apartment upstairs almost two years ago. When he was indirectly talking about Javier.

“I meant it when I said don’t be a stranger. You and Javier will always be welcome here.”

The sincerity in her eyes grew sharper, and she gripped his hand. In sympathy? Solidarity? Horacio wasn't sure.

But it put him at ease enough to reciprocate and ask a question now lodged in his throat with no option to swallow it back down. “How did you know?”

“Because there’s a glow about you, Horacio. A glow I remember from a long, long time ago. I might’ve forgotten a lot in my old age, but never that. Not even now it’s just me rattling around upstairs. It doesn’t have to fade, you know. Not if you don’t let it.”

It was a running theme for Horacio’s elders to leave him speechless like this. And it was all he could do to bob his head in acknowledgement, hoping he might be capable of such sage insights one day.

The bell above the door chimed again, signalling the end of their reunion as Señora Romero greeted her new customers, inviting them to sit wherever they liked.

“I think that’s my cue. But thank you, Señora Romero. For everything.”

“Any time. Take care, Horacio. And remember, my door’s always open.”

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Horacio dropped the box of delights on the kitchen counter, the fresh breeze and murmur of traffic revealing that Javier had moved from the bedroom to the balcony since he left.

Javier put the book he was reading down in favour of craning his neck over his shoulder to watch Horacio potter about the kitchen before biting the bullet. “So, how did it go?”

Horacio didn’t speak whilst he concentrated on transferring a couple of ensaimadas onto plates. He then joined Javier, sitting in the empty seat next to him as he offered a plate. “Better than I thought it would. She guessed about us. I didn’t tell her. Somehow she just…knew.”

“How did she take it?”

“I think we’ve got a free supply of these for life.”

They couldn’t help but laugh in unison, more from relief than anything else.

“See, I told you it’d be fine.”

“Yeah. It’s never gonna stop, though, is it?”

“How d’you mean?”

“Every time we meet someone.”

“I say it's nobody’s fucking business unless we decide it is.”

“I spoke to Alejandra yesterday. While you were in the shower.” Horacio paused at his announcement that might have appeared unconnected to their conversation, but Javier knew better. “I let her know I’m back here for now. I couldn’t tell her the rest, though.”

He focused on his plate, poking a fork at the crumbly layers of pastry, hoping to find his courage buried somewhere between them. “I’m sorry.”

“Hey, no, stop that.” Javier forfeited his plate for leaning closer to Horacio, palm caressing his thigh. “Before Laredo, you said I should only tell Pops if I’m ready. So, there’s no rush, Horacio. Take all the time you need.”

Horacio entwined their fingers on his leg because if anyone understood his apprehension, it was Javier. “I know. I just hate keeping it from her after everything we’ve been through. She would always make me soup if I was sick. And she looked out for me after Papá was gone. She taught me Mamá’s sudado de pollo recipe because it was one of Papá’s favourites. I liked to think I was the man of the house, but she loved reminding me she was my older sister.”

“I bet she did. I saw that a lot with my parents and my Tías and Tíos. Never could decide if I’d have preferred brothers and sisters after they all got together.”

“That’s siblings for you. I didn’t want to shut her – or Mamá – out. But when things got crazy back home, I had no choice.”

“Same with Pops. The worse it got, the more I shut down. But he understood. And…I know I haven’t met them.” Yet, Javier wanted to add but thought better of it. “But they might too.”

“I know.”

“We’ll be okay whatever happens, you know that, right?”

“Yeah. I do.” Horacio finally let go of Javier’s hand, knowing if he held on any longer, he’d have given their neighbours something to gossip about.

Instead, he took another bite of his pastry and a swig of the half-drunk coffee from the table where Javier’s abandoned book lay. “What are you reading, anyway?”

“Oh, just this.” Javier reached for his Mamá’s poetry book, the pages fluttering in the breeze, the superstitious remnants from his upbringing wanting to believe it was a sign of something other than the weather. “Before we left, I told Pops I wished she’d met you. I don’t know if she ever suspected anything about me, but…I guess it doesn’t matter now.”

“Maybe not. But for what it’s worth, I wish I’d met her too.”

It had always been a relief for Horacio that his father and Javier never crossed paths, but that was mostly a projection of his own fears. The truth was, he would never know if his Papá suspected anything about him, either.

Once they had finished their ensaimadas, Horacio washed up the plates and a few items waiting by the sink, a routine he performed countless times with Alejandra when they were just about tall enough to reach the taps; before any expectations of who or what he was supposed to be were placed on his shoulders. Memories flooded back of how they would squabble over who got to wash and dry. Although, of course, more often than not, his big sister would pull rank, and in hindsight, he smiled at the possibility that, all those years later, she, rather than their Papá, was what had made his job so appealing.

As he left the clean plates, cups, and cutlery to dry on the draining board, it dawned on him that Alejandra and his Mamá didn’t have to be the same story as his Papá. They didn’t need to be another unfinished, half-written story in which the ending would always elude him, haunt him, or hold him back. Not if Horacio didn’t leave it too late this time.

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Whilst Horacio resumed his early morning runs, they were more like gentle jogs these days. It wasn’t that he had lost his stamina after being put through his paces back on the ranch, but he didn’t feel the need to charge ahead at full pelt anymore. He was more likely to go through a routine of strengthening exercises, to keep his right shoulder from seizing up, and for whenever they decided to head back to Laredo. If that was to become his full-time job, he couldn’t afford to be out of shape.

He left Javier in bed, with plans to meet him at Café Romero for breakfast. It was to be Javier’s first time meeting Señora Romero, which they were confident they had nothing to worry about, but that didn’t quell the butterflies dancing in their stomachs the night before.

It was why Horacio had gone for a run instead of lying awake restless, counting down the hours until he could get up. His muscle memory, rather than his wristwatch, estimated that by the time he jogged one of his usual routes that took him to the outskirts of Casa de Campo park and walked a few blocks to cool down, he would be ready for breakfast.

About three-quarters of the way through his run, having just exited the park, he heard the call of his name. He willed there to be another Horacio jogging passed at the same time, but when his eyes fell upon the source of the voice, he knew he was out of luck.

“Álvaro?” He didn’t know why he asked; he’d spent enough time with Álvaro Molina to recognise his voice anywhere.

Álvaro was a chief inspector in the Spanish CNP. Not a direct parallel to Horacio’s role in Colombia, but close enough. Although Álvaro was never based at the Consulate when Horacio was, they spent plenty of time in the same cross-departmental meetings.

He was a couple of inches taller than Horacio with hazel eyes and unruly dark brown curls that were more mottled with grey than their last meeting. At one time, Álvaro carried almost as much muscle as Horacio, but he had visibly lost weight, his face now gaunt and rough with days’ old stubble.

“How the hell are you?” A hand shook Horacio’s with vigour. “Better than last time, I bet, now that motherfucker’s in the ground.”

“You could say that.”

“What brings you back? They didn’t exile you again, did they?” Álvaro winked, knowing he was on friendly enough terms with Horacio to get away with it.

A scoff and roll of the eyes was Horacio’s response. “No. Actually, it was the other way round this time.”

“Oh? You are a dark horse. Always thought they’d have to force you into retirement when you’re old and grey.”

“Yeah, me too. But I guess things change.”

“Hmm, some more than others.”

“I take it there’s been no let-up in seizures after Medellín folded?”

“Not with Cali waiting in the wings, no.” There was a brittle laugh followed by a shift in Álvaro’s facial expression, the joviality from moments ago now gone and replaced with traces of sleep deprivation.

“That’s the trouble. You cut off one serpent’s head, and two more of the fuckers grow straight back.” Horacio’s words were loaded with a sting of venom at the mention of Cali, closely followed by thoughts of Los Pepes, Stechner and the CIA’s protection of Cali. How could they possibly win when the whole system was corrupt to the core?

“Tell me about it. Listen, I don’t suppose you’ve got time to grab a quick coffee? Hell knows I need one.”

Horacio calculated he had about 15 minutes maximum spare, so, it was doable if he drank fast and didn’t get too involved in shop talk that was no longer his remit.

“Okay, there’s a place just inside Casa de Campo. But you’re buying.”

“Always the cheapskate.”

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Javier glanced up from his newspaper to the clock on the wall. Horacio was technically late; by his own standards, that was. Javier wouldn’t even have noticed if it was anyone else.

He followed Horacio’s instructions on how to get here, even down to picking the window seat in the far corner of the café. It was empty when Javier arrived – five minutes early, which must be a first – so he sat and waited.

Not long after he took a seat, a lady too young to be Señora Romero came to greet him with a friendly smile, ready to take his order.

Javier went with a café solo for each of them, saving the food order for when Horacio arrived.

Even when speaking in short sentences, Javier was self-conscious of his accent here, sometimes forgetting to adjust his pronunciation or pick a different word than he was used to. Of course, it had been the same when he arrived in Colombia and Horacio in Texas. A cultural exchange that led to many late-night conversations – and the occasional argument – about dialect differences. But that was the versatility of the Spanish language.

The same waitress brought the drinks over, although an older woman had joined her who was now clearing the adjacent table. The family resemblance between the two women was undeniable, so Javier assumed this must be Señora Romero and…Luisa, did Horacio say? He kept quiet for now, just in case he was wrong. Nor did he want to steal Horacio’s thunder with introductions.

As Javier thanked Luisa and explained the second cup was for someone meeting him shortly, Señora Romero ceased wiping a cloth across the emptied table, her ears pricking up at an accent she didn’t hear too often.

Not that Javier noticed as his eyes darted to the door, up to the clock and down to the paper with a heavy sigh.

He got through one and a half news stories when Señora Romero made her move from watching Javier curiously from behind the counter to standing by his table.

“It’s not like him to be late, is it?”

Javier was startled out of his newspaper and looked up, where rich shades of chestnut and cinnamon collided for the first time. “How—?” was about all he managed to stutter out.

Señora Romero sat opposite Javier, where Horacio should have been sitting. “Ever since his first visit, he went straight for this table. It is a nice spot, though. He always read his papers and ordered a café solo every time.” She smiled affectionately at the coffee cups on the table like they were an old friend. “Plus, he told me about Laredo. So, I wasn’t expecting another Colombian accent.”

“I’m impressed. We could’ve done with more people like you in Colombia. And I was under strict instructions to pick this table. But you’re right; it’s not like him to be late.”

There was no doubt a logical explanation for Horacio’s absence. But Javier couldn’t stop his fingers from fidgeting around the handle of his cup or his knee from bouncing under the table and causing an earthquake.

“Oh, I’m sure he’s on his way, dear. Did he go for one of his pre-breakfast runs?”

There was something comforting about Señora Romero’s familiarity with Horacio’s routines, even though Javier had never met her before. It gave them a mutual talking point and a connection beyond the usual dry small talk. “Bingo.”

“Of course! He was one of my most loyal regulars. I did miss seeing him in here after he left.”

“He’s talked about you and this place a lot. So, I’d say the feeling’s mutual.”

“Bless you, my dear. I’m glad our paths crossed. But I’ve no doubt he ended up where he belonged.”

Heat bloomed in Javier’s face and chest as Señora Romero gave him a pointed look followed by a flash of a wink. And he couldn’t help but feel sheepish that he and Horacio had ever worried about her reaction in the first place.

It took his mind off things until his gaze fell back on the clock, and he saw another five minutes had passed. Where the fuck was he? No, Javier couldn’t think like that. It was stupid and unnecessary at this stage. He just needed to focus on the pleasant conversation he was having now. So, he tried again.

This time, he asked questions about Señora Romero’s family and, during a lull in the breakfast rush, was introduced to Luisa as a friend of Horacio’s. If Luisa suspected anything, she took it in the same stride as her mother.

Next came the family photos, including plenty of Tomás, naturally. An album's worth of photos was scattered across the table, allowing Señora Romero to guide Javier through each one as though she was delivering a presentation. But as someone with a large extended family, Javier didn’t mind and even interjected with anecdotes about his own relatives.

After a tilt of his head and a sip of his coffee, Javier brought the cup down to the photo-covered table with a sense of déjà vu. It took him out of the moment and forced him to close his eyes, trying to blink away his sudden change in mood. But then, a wave of cheap perfume filled his senses. And Señora Romero’s finger pointing at the pictures was younger and manicured. The photo she placed in his hand wasn’t the many generations of the Romero family posing in front of the café; it was one of the long-lens photos of Javier and Horacio.

He blinked hard enough to see spots, allowing his vision to gradually re-focus on the safety of the photo in his hand rather than the violating one burnt into his memory. He tried not to think about those images, and for the most part, he succeeded these days. But occasionally, his brain would taunt him, reminding him how paralysed he was by the possible consequences. By the fact he put Horacio in so much danger and couldn’t even tell him about it or be with him. By the fact he and Steve were glorified puppets to the likes of Stechner whilst the CIA was up to its neck in corruption.

“These, er, these are all beautiful,” he managed to get out, hoping that the last few seconds had gone unnoticed, as unlikely as that was.

“Are you sure I can’t get you anything else while you wait, dear?”

That was the next question Javier heard, but he couldn’t be sure if he had zoned out and missed a whole chunk of conversation.

"Er, no, thanks, I'm good."

Without meaning to, his eyes scanned between the clock and the door again, an irrational hope taking hold that if he stared at either long enough, he could make Horacio appear by sheer willpower alone. However, as the second hand on the clock ticked and ticked, he was back in that damn hospital bed. Waiting, waiting, waiting. That was all he could do, unable to get comfortable as each movement was a red-hot poker jabbing in his ribs. But he would take that any day over the crushing, suffocating, nauseating dread that weighed on his chest like a foreshadowing of death. Not his death, although it would have been in all but name if the pendulum of fate had swung the other way.

“Javier? Are you alright, my dear?”

Javier was back in the café, a light sheen of sweat gathering on his skin as he tried to shove whatever the fuck that was back in its box. “Er, yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. Sorry.”

“Why don’t I pour us some lemonade upstairs once you’ve finished your coffee? I’ll ask Luisa to send Horacio up when he gets here.”

Javier expected his instincts to push him towards the door and back to the apartment, but they didn’t. Instead, they saw the genuine concern on Señora Romero’s face and the kindness in her gesture. They saw the glimmer of faded memories of his Mamá taking care of him, knowing this wasn’t the same, but also that it didn’t need to be. And so he did the only thing he could.

“That’d be good, thanks.”

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

Álvaro brought over two coffees from the kiosk by the park entrance to a nearby seating area of tables and chairs. The previous day’s rain still clung to the stainless steel furniture and explained why there weren’t as many people around them as on a scorching hot day. But that worked in their favour.

They sat opposite each other across a table suffering from a wobbly leg, Horacio in his jogging pants and a somewhat sweaty t-shirt, and Álvaro apparently in yesterday's suit, shirt and skewwhiff tie, if their crumpled appearance and less than fresh aroma were anything to go by. A far cry from the pristine CNP-issued uniforms and tailored suits picked out by Álvaro’s wife their last meeting saw them wearing.

As Horacio took a sip of coffee, he noticed Álvaro reach into the inside pocket of his jacket and pull out a hip flask.

Álvaro lifted the plastic lid from his cup, poured a generous measure from the flask and offered the same to Horacio.

Horacio raised his hand and shook his head. “Bit early for me.”

They made small talk, Horacio managing to be as vague as possible regarding his reasons for living here again. “Taking a break in a beautiful city” and “Catching up with old friends” were about the gist of it. But he wasn’t exactly forthcoming with information the first time, so his stunted replies weren’t out of character.

Álvaro was equally brief about the details of his life, which was out of character now Horacio thought about it. Álvaro used to talk about his family as much as his work. His wife was his rock, his kids were his pride and joy, and his brother was progressing at pace through the military ranks. But this time, he confirmed they were doing well and left it at that before getting down to business.

“An anonymous tip-off recently fell into the DEA’s lap. Lots of juicy details about Cali. The gringos are working their way through the intel, and it flagged up more links to our old friends in Galicia. There were sightings of Pacho Herrera up there, plus some of his associates are based in Madrid. So that’s opened a huge fucking can of worms.”

Horacio had a terrible time trying to stifle a reaction to the mention of a tip-off. There was nothing 'anonymous' about it from the DEA’s point of view, not even when it came to the intel's delivery.

The last time he was here, the Galician traffickers were working with Escobar. And whilst Horacio’s redeployment was conducted from behind a desk for the majority, his colleagues had chewed his ear off about various Colombian names that came up in reports or wiretaps. It didn’t surprise him in the slightest that the Spanish clans had moved on to Cali.

Álvaro lit a cigarette as he talked, offering up a second one from his almost-empty carton.

But Horacio declined, instead taking another sip of his drink. “Sounds promising. But Álvaro, Cali is a different beast to Medellín. They’re more discreet, professional, and they have powerful friends in high places.”

“I know. But we have to try, right? Look at Operación Nécora. Sooner or later, someone gets sloppy, drops the ball, turns on one of their own, or kills the wrong person. And then we win.”

Watching Álvaro chug back his Irish coffee in one hand with a smouldering cigarette perched in his other was like looking in a mirror to the past. And it wasn’t a pretty sight.

When Horacio was in the fray, it had been too easy to focus solely on the case in front of him, convincing himself it would all be over soon if he just shut down one more lab and seized one more kilo or wad of cash. Or tortured one more suspect. But it was never enough and never would be. He had been fighting a losing battle that had no likely ending in sight, even if the individuals and locations were a perpetual revolving door.

“I’m not sure there are winners in any of this,” he said, the resignation heavy in his tone.

“Shit, you really have changed.”

“Maybe.”

“Last time I saw you, you were raining fire and brimstone upon the narcos. What the fuck happened?”

“Do you know how many funerals I’ve been to, Álvaro? Or how many people I’ve killed? Because I don’t. I stopped counting. Then Escobar tried to have me killed – and nearly succeeded.”

“Woah, woah, what?”

“I took a bullet here,” Horacio gestured to his right shoulder, “and nearly bled out. The doctors said I was lucky I was brought in so fast.” Although Horacio knew a lot more than luck was involved.

“Shit, Horacio.”

“Yeah. So, it’s easy for you to keep fighting when you haven’t lost as many times as I have.”

“Because no one else could possibly have lost anything as well, right?”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Sounded like it to me. And you’ve got no fucking idea.” Álvaro slammed his cup down on the table, the force of its impact splashing coffee droplets in all directions.

Horacio opted not to make a fuss but he could have sworn he saw the reflection of tears in Álvaro’s eyes as they focused on their drinks in silence. “Did something happen?”

“What gave it away?” Álvaro gestured towards himself, acknowledging his worse-for-wear state. He leaned his elbow on the table, head held in his hands, and ran his fingers through his hair. “There was another bombing. Last June. An army transporter was targeted by 40 kilos of explosives left in a parked car. My brother, Jaime, was...he was there…and didn’t make it.”

“Fuck, Álvaro. I’m so sorry. I had no idea.” Except, in a roundabout way, he did have some idea. Because back in Colombia, it was Horacio who delivered such news to countless families like the Molinas.

“No, well, you wouldn’t.” He took out the hip flask again, draining whatever was left into his coffee cup and knocking it back. “Not least of all because I lied about him earlier. Sorry about that, by the way. Still not very good at this sort of thing.”

“No, of course. We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

“Your dad was a cop too, right? Before he…passed away.”

“Yeah, he was.”

“I remember you telling me. It was about the only thing I got out of you, come to think of it.”

Half a rebellious smile broke through Horacio’s tightly pursed lips. “Yeah, well, I guess I wasn’t very good at this sort of thing either.”

“But you are now?”

“Better than I was. Better now I’m not trying to be him. Now I realise he was as flawed as the rest of us.”

“Yeah, trying to follow in the footsteps of a high-achiever in the family will fuck you up for life. Or so I’ve heard.”

Horacio didn’t know a lot about Jaime but was aware he was 10 years older than Álvaro. From the way Álvaro talked, it was clear how much he hero-worshipped his big brother. And if anyone knew the pitfalls of such high pedestals, it was Horacio.

“Sounds familiar. As much as I’ve always missed him, I was glad he never saw me at my worst.”

“All I wanted was for Jaime to be proud of me, and I think he was.” Álvaro’s eyes lit up, and for the first time during their conversation, the wrinkles of his smile reached them. “But I’m not sure he’d even recognise me if he saw me now.”

“The paradox of grief.”

“What?”

Another smile crept over Horacio’s face. “Just something someone once said to me. Whatever you do, it’ll never feel enough now he’s gone.”

“Never thought of it like that. But it’s not just a dead man I’m letting down. My wife tried so hard with me; she really did. But…the nightmares started. They were always about trying to save Jaime, but I couldn’t. So I drank ‘til I was comatose. Then work got crazy and things spiralled. She didn’t think it was good for me to be around the kids, and well, I can’t argue with that.”

Álvaro unloaded a jumble of words in one fell swoop, catching Horacio off guard as he tried to take it all in. But it wasn’t as though it was unfamiliar territory for him. It wasn’t as though he had no experiences of his own to share, experiences he had only ever opened up to Javier about until now.

“That was my life, for a long time, without the wife and kids, obviously. But the nightmares and the drinking got bad after I...I accidentally killed someone I was sent to rescue.”

“Shit, Horacio. You never said anything when you were – wait a minute – is that why you were here in the first place?”

“Surprisingly, no.” Horacio let out a hollow laugh at the fact the death of Diana Turbay wasn’t his superiors’ red line. “I’m sure it didn’t help my cause, but the final straw came when I led a raid on a nightclub. We took down some high-level sicarios, but a bystander got caught in the crossfire.”

“Fuck. There were so many rumours about you, no one knew what to believe. I heard you took out Escobar’s cousin, but surely they wouldn’t exile a hero.”

“I’m not a fucking hero, Álvaro.”

“Ha! So, it was true.”

Horacio said nothing, his silence giving Álvaro the answer he was looking for.

“You can’t tell me you’re sorry about that.”

“I’m not. And I don’t regret everything I did.” It was the truth. He wasn’t trying to atone for some of those fuckers getting what they deserved. They weren’t why he walked away. “But you know what they say…old sins cast long shadows. These things stay with you, whether you’re the one killing or it’s the people around you being killed.”

“So, what are you saying? That it’s too late for damaged goods like us?” There was a desperate crack in Álvaro’s voice as though he was looking to Horacio to confirm his fears and put him out of his misery once and for all.

“You probably don’t want to hear it right now, but…it doesn’t always have to be like this. It’s not easy, and it takes time, but it can get better.”

“You’re right. I didn’t want to hear that.” Álvaro kept his features neutral until he caught Horacio’s eye and they both laughed, because what else could they do?

“Neither did I, for years. Because it felt impossible. But no amount of punishing yourself will bring him back or change the past.”

“There’s quite a team set up now,” Álvaro continued after a long silence, as though he hadn’t heard a single word Horacio had said. “From your end, our end, the DEA, Interpol, the SVA. You name it, we’ve got fingers in the pie. And there’s always room for more.”

Álvaro looked at Horacio with great expectation, waiting for an answer to an unspoken question until he could wait no more. “Horacio, you know what it’s like more than most dealing with these people. And you remember how it was last time. Couldn’t so much as talk about the weather without it getting back to someone up there.”

That much was true. The situation in Galicia was eerily reminiscent of Medellín. Homegrown police taking bribes left, right and centre and passing on intel to the trafficking clans. Politicians’ and judges’ integrity in tatters because they, too, turned a blind eye. The Colombian cartels made Galicia their gateway into Europe. And their success was thanks to the layer upon layer of corruption that was allowed to exist.

“No.”

“Come on, at least think about it. There’d be none of that pen-pushing bullshit this time. You could be out in the field again, it’d be just like the old days back in—”

“Álvaro, I said no.” Horacio didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t need to with how his steely glare and steadfast jaw framed his face. “I’m done with it for good. End of story.”

Álvaro raised his arms in surrender, his second cigarette of their meeting now burning between his fingers. “Alright, alright, I get the message. Can’t blame me for asking now I know you’re back.” He raised the cigarette to his lips, regarding Horacio with increasing intrigue through the wisps of smoke hanging between them. “So, who is it, then?”

“What?”

“Whoever’s convinced you to quit and move here. Must be serious. And don’t lie because I know there’s someone.”

“Your interrogation skills need more work, Molina. And on that note, I better be going. You’re making me late for an appointment.”

“Nice deflection there, Carrillo. I’m just saying; they must be the love of your fucking life to give it all up.”

There was a scrape of metal against the floor as Horacio rose from his chair, not dignifying Álvaro’s prying with a response, even though it was the naked truth.

“Alright, fine, fine! I can take a hint. I’ll keep my mouth shut from now on.” Álvaro brought a hand to his lips, ‘zipping’ them closed with his thumb and forefinger.

Horacio sat back down with a roll of his eyes. “I’ll believe that when I see it.”

“I didn’t mean anything by it. Good for you, in fact. It’s hard enough to find someone like that in the first place, but to hold onto them and make it work? Nothing short of a fucking miracle. But you know where I am if you ever change your mind.”

“Thanks, but I won’t.”

“Thought you might say that.”

“If you ever change your mind, please think about what I said. You can’t run away from this. No matter how much you bury your head in your job. It doesn’t work like that.”

“I can’t make any promises, Horacio. You know how it is.”

Of course, he knew; that was precisely why he was saying it in the first place. But he also knew there was no point pushing it any further. “It was good to see you, Álvaro. And I am sorry about Jaime.”

“Me too. And er, thanks. For listening and everything. I really appreciate it. Although, I gotta ask, when did you get so fucking wise?”

Horacio laughed, assured there was no malice in Álvaro’s teasing, and because he had apparently accomplished what he was expecting to wait years, if not decades to do. “I’m afraid I can’t take all the credit.”

“Should’ve known. Good to see you, Horacio. Don’t leave it so long next time. And I hate to say it, but retirement already suits you.”

“Thanks, I think. Take care of yourself.”

They stood up from the table, deposited their empty cups in a nearby bin and walked back to the entrance that took them onto the main road.

After shaking hands, they went their separate ways, Horacio in one direction and Álvaro in the opposite.

It wasn’t long ago that Horacio lamented turning his back on the CNP. But as he broke into a run to mitigate his uncharacteristic lateness, he caught glimpses of familiar church spires towering over every other building. They had been a comforting backdrop to his guilt and shame, and whilst he would always carry them around for certain deeds, it wasn’t a place he ever wanted to revisit. And the next time his lapel pins found themselves between his fingers, or Trujillo still called him Colonel out of habit, he would be reminded it was okay to miss something but never want it back.

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

Javier sat stiffly on Señora Romero’s floral sofa, clenching and unclenching his fists to distract himself from the creeping sense of embarrassment setting in.

Señora Romero joined him in the neighbouring chair, a tray of lemonade and a selection of pastries from downstairs placed between them on the table.

“Have you eaten anything this morning, dear?”

“Not really, no.”

“Well, that won’t do. Here, take some. Don’t be shy.” She practically shoved the plate at Javier, stopping short of placing one of the pastries in his mouth.

“Thanks. And sorry, I don’t know where that came from.”

“From what Horacio told me, I’d say it’s understandable. For both of you.” Señora Romero gave the tall jug of lemonade a final stir, then poured it into two ice-filled tumblers, handing one to Javier and settling back in her chair.

Javier thanked her as he accepted a glass, wasting no time quenching his dry mouth.

“And it’s nothing I haven’t seen before,” Señora Romero continued. “My country went from the Civil War to Franco for over three decades. Not to mention the violence in the Basque region, and the bombings here, of course. People don’t like to talk about it much, but the scars are still as plain as day.”

Javier wasn’t exactly an expert in Spanish history, but he knew the basics. And hearing them listed together suddenly made his experiences seem tame by comparison. Not that he thought for a second that was Señora Romero’s intention, but it gave him a large dose of perspective.

“I never talked to anyone before Horacio, to be honest. Same for him with me, but it took me longer to get there.”

“My husband rarely told me what he’d seen and done in the war. He thought I wouldn’t understand, and maybe I didn’t. Maybe I couldn’t. But we survived the same storm in the end, even though we were sometimes in different boats.”

“It was a while ‘til we were in the same boat. Even now, sometimes we’re not,” Javier said as his mind drifted with a smile to their conflicting views and priorities over the years.

In theory, it shouldn’t have gone the way it did. They may have shared the same broad goal in Colombia, but they came at it from different angles. They weren’t supposed to trust and understand each other more than anyone else. They weren’t supposed to walk away from their all-consuming careers for each other, and they certainly weren’t supposed to fall in love. But life had a funny way of working out.

As for their current situation, they were dealing with things in their own way and in their own time. It was never going to be something they could coordinate. But even so, it frustrated Javier when he spiralled seemingly out of nowhere. Except, was it really out of nowhere? It was all a blur now.

“In my experience, sometimes you can’t be,” Señora Romero said. “And sometimes, you won’t want to be. Sometimes, you float alongside each other in your own boats. And sometimes, it’s good enough just to sail in the same direction at different paces.”

“He’s never late. And I guess it’s force of habit to assume the worst.” Javier wasn’t expecting to say that, but it was like someone had just removed their foot from his chest. It was an admission to himself as much as Señora Romero, confirmation that it hadn’t been out of nowhere at all.

Señora Romero merely nodded, giving Javier the space to continue if he wanted to.

“On the night of the ambush, Steve – my partner – and I weren’t supposed to be there. I’m not sure we were ever supposed to be in Colombia, to be honest.”

Javier stopped to let out a sceptical sneer as snippets of his encounters with Stechner replayed in his head. For all he knew, Stechner could have orchestrated his entire career, manoeuvring him around like a pawn on a chessboard.

“But we disobeyed orders and followed Horacio anyway. And then we, er…we heard gunfire and screaming over the radio. It was the longest car journey of my life.” He took another sip of his drink and a deep breath, determined to finish now he’d started. “It was the same at the hospital and after the bombing here. Always waiting, but never knowing where he was or if he was okay.”

“Oh, Javier, my dear, it makes complete sense you would think the worst. I would be the same in your shoes. But you have to remember, he’s a civilian now. He’s not a target anymore. The ETA bombings here have been directed at the Spanish authorities.”

Señora Romero leaned forwards until her hand met Javier’s. Shades of chestnut connected with cinnamon again as he squeezed as a gesture of thanks. Neither appeared fazed by this being their first meeting, perhaps finding it easier because they simultaneously didn’t know much about each other but enough to no longer be strangers.

“And for what it’s worth,” she continued, “regardless of the rights or wrongs of your government’s involvement in foreign affairs, it seems you were exactly where you were supposed to be that night.”

Touché. He couldn’t argue with that, the irony apparent of Steve previously framing Javier’s need to follow Horacio as a warning rather than a calling.

“I may have only just met you, Javier, but I know what you did for Horacio that night was a brave act of love. Wanting to help is an honourable trait, don’t ever forget that. But you might find you’re not worrying yourself sick so much once you’re focused on helping others again. And someone out there will always need it, wherever life takes you next.”

Javier scoffed before gulping down the rest of his lemonade. “I think that’s the problem.”

Señora Romero’s hosting instincts kicked in as she re-filled Javier’s glass.

“Thanks. Horacio got out a year before me and settled in working on my Pop’s ranch. Way more than I ever did.” Javier cringed at some of the memories of him in his pre-police days attempting various jobs that Horacio took to like a duck to water, whereas he had floundered.

“Is that what he wants to do?”

“I think so. Which is great; he’s a natural. It suits him.”

“But you don’t know what’s next for you?”

“Not a clue.” Not a fucking clue was more accurate, but he caught himself just in time.

“Do you need to have it figured out yet?”

“Well, no, not yet. We’re okay financially for now. But I know it can’t last forever.”

“There’s plenty of time between now and forever, Javier.” Señora Romero lowered her voice as though she was letting him in on a coveted secret. “At your age, anyway. Less so at mine, but I take each day as it comes.”

“What’s that like?”

“There are good days and bad days. And bad weeks, months and years, come to think of it. Days when my body doesn’t do what my mind tells it to do. Days when my mind is frail, and my heart is sore. But on other days, I’ll spend time with the family. Or my piononos will come out better than they did last time. Or I’ll make new friends in unusual circumstances.” She winked in Javier’s direction. “I think the bad days are just part of life’s rich tapestry. Especially where healing wounds are concerned.”

Occasional reminders of the past – or bad days – scattered amongst the simple pleasures sounded suspiciously like their time in Madrid so far. But maybe that was okay. Maybe, that was part of the process of moving on with their lives. Maybe, progress was supposed to be subtle and non-linear, almost imperceptible unless you knew what you were looking for.

No sooner had Javier got his head around that prospect than there was a knock at the door followed by a heartfelt apology, given and accepted with a look as much as words.

Of course, Señora Romero had been right, and there was no life-or-death emergency to attend to. But any embarrassment on Javier’s part was overridden by the relief his fears were unfounded, and he would gladly take an anxious mind rather than the alternative.

Pulses returned to baseline as the trio talked, albeit Horacio’s for a different reason than Javier's.

Whilst Madrid wasn’t Laredo, they couldn’t take acceptance for granted wherever they were. But as they returned downstairs, where Señora Romero removed the ‘Reserved’ sign from their corner table and offered them yet another breakfast on the house, a weight lifted from Horacio’s shoulders. Because the first real friend he made here had welcomed him and Javier into her home and business with open arms.

[violetlearnschinese]

today is 6/30/2024 i just wanna write up a log of the things that i've tried so far i guess

i feel like my chinese learning journey is kinda interesting bc . i'm more addicted to trying to innovate/revolutionize/optimize how to learn chinese more than actually learning chinese . and sure some of that could be attributed to instant gratification or wtvr, but also i am also rly addicted to trying to solve physics-esque/mathy problems and that's just what my brain is inclined towards doing, like if it recognizes smth as mathy and nonoptimal then it'll compulsively search for a solution lol . usually this activity doesnt actually turn out to be super productive (and a lot of the time it can seem like im just Wildly Overcomplicating things, and there's definitely an argument for that, yes) but i believe it's at least Somewhattt useful + at least i enjoy the rush (sometimes) + maybe one day ill finally get some Good idea and then ill make millions !!! or maybe that is just what i tell myself to cope . Lmao . anyway.

chinese course at brown

hellochinese

made the whole diagram thing (i was so anal abt this (and esp its application to music) and eventually changed opinion to yeah sure it was correct but not a good way to approach learning bc kids arent just magical sponges but instead the reason that they learn quickly is bc 24/7 private tutor (their mother) + fast iteration)

anki spoonfed chinese too hard

may 23 night - may 24 day

call w regan, she inspired me to just go thru my chinese textbook bc she made me think damn maybe i should just try being normal for once

went thru half of chinese textbook

felt like i wasnt rly learning well past lesson 5 (and lessons 1-5 were mostly review anyway)

may 24-25 ish

found lazychinese.com comprehensible input

found other CI people existed

searched through a Lot, couldnt find much at my level, either way too easy for total beginner or too hard nothing to grasp onto or just no variety of sentence structures

may 25 night

salena sent me the gay guy i could sorta understand him, like i could latch on to smth

coded the thing

went over the video w transcript for a day or two

may 26 day

saw the baby in pool

may 26 night

watched n followed funny easy chinese ig/tiktok accts

may 26/27

tried peppa pig / cartoons / stories on yt / etc, still too hard

may27

up until now, really mostly input little output

peppa pig longest sentence

turned on chinese keyboard

chatgpt convo

texting w friends

wow im not bad

hearing is impt, then pure imitating, then say it while pinyin, then understand

u will not see gains intra-day 1 bc gains r slow obv u need multiple days etc wtvr 2 bc gains happen during Sleep (ie After the learning session, Not During)(analogy to gym, u dont get stronger inside of one session, ur muscle builds up After the session is done)(i notice improvement after one or two days)

do many short sessions, but also include some long sessions

imitating a sentence/paragraph whole-part-whole . listen to the whole thing, then split into parts, then put the parts together . like learning a piano piece . (also this is fractal - if too big, split up)

around this time i tried brute forcing comprehensible input via lazychinese.com, but found it too slow/unoptimal/wtvr

flirting w krashen's hypothesis and i see so many success stories abt krashen (e.g. https://www.reddit.com/r/languagelearning/comments/wetbjo/i_learned_english_through_magic_and_input_krashen/)

this was interesting too, i forgot what i got out of it but it was interesting (https://www.reddit.com/r/languagelearning/comments/r9g1s3/i_immersed_in_spanish_for_900_hours_without_any/)

eventually i disagree w krashen and think he's stupid bc my brother cant speak tagalog

opinion abt tutors

also found out that it lines up with more modern language acquisition theories and critiques of krashen: swain's comprehensible output + dekeyser’s skill building

hypothesis abt memorizing stories might be better than flashcards

like a memory palace but it's stories not palaces

du chinese analysis failed (unique word density starts at 12% then goes to 6%)

i think about here i stopped being so anal about the whole ... diagram that was rooted in kids being sponges

i dont hate language classes as much

trying to brute force grammar

current hypothesis/method:

trying to brute force grammar

same hypothesis abt memorizing stories to learn vocab, but now using AI generated stories (unique word density starts at 32% then goes to 20%. much better!)

build a huge foundation (learn lots of textbook grammar and vocab) (get lots of clay), then iron it out (practice listening/speaking/reading/writing/wtvr to acquire more natural idiomatic expressions and also just increase your speed/skill etc etc) (roll the clay)

[nathank77]

6/4/24

5:19 p.m

I still haven't heard back from my Dr or got my xanax script called in. I guess I'll have to talk to them tomorrow. I won't make any contact attempts today.

I got my vitamin b12 today and started it and magically my cbd showed up at the door today too so I don't got to worry about stopping for a day or something.

I slept very well. I closed my eyes at like 6:48 a.m and was gone at some point. I woke up and peeded and smoked pot and fell back to sleep until about 4:23 p.m. I did hear foot steps behind me around 4:20 p.m that's a way I've noticed the hallucination change at least in the short term since smoking weed. It was only once. I didn't even turn around I knew that it was a hallucination cause my door is locked.

Anyways I'm not sure if its getting worse or not. I'm hyper critical and now that psychosis knows I'm going to ignore my visuals and not take my tactile seriously, I've noticed my imagination is different.

Last night I imagined like a loud banging. It was 1000% my imagination. I did not hear it. It really opened my eyes on how some of it could be my imagination.

99% of it is not. I hear the voice all the time and it repeating what I'm thinking or something.. but sometimes I get a mental picture like one where I drop something and I might imagine that I hear the bang...99% of them are actual hallucinations.. but it does show me the power of the mind and trauma... so yea I'm holding judgemental for now.

I do think the auditory is louder but not really.. weed uplifts my mood majorly. And if psychosis can ruin it I go right back to being miserable. Right back to having no quality of life.

I can still tune it out but it takes effort. I'll see how playing bo4 is today. I'm hopeful I'm just hyper attuned to it. I was still able to watch ink master and America dad and barely hear it. Sometimes I could make it out clearly. Other times I heard it like screaming.. low volume but not making intelligent sounds. It starts screaming happpyyyyyyyyy and doesn't stop and then I think i know it wants to say happy birthday and then it does. I wish it would just scream happy... it would be a major improvement.

The damage to my language center is appearant. I'm breaking a lot of it but it takes time. When it says the bussycunt I say feels stupid or feels like it's going away. I use a version of my deadname with Nathan to break the original hallucination.. it sounds like it but is a letter off. This was all happening before weed. So yea.

Wish me luck on hardcore nuketown. I'm thinking I may not smoke week tonight late since I'm taking the 1mg... I may take it at 4 a.m and not smoke. I sleep longer with weed in my system... that's not even debatable. I don't want to get high off xanax. I just want to sleep. So I will likely do 1mg Xanax, 25MG of Hydroxyzine and 2MG of Melatonin at 4 a.m. and hopefully I stay asleep through the night. I worry I'll wake up... smoking weed seems to knock me out for 9 hours with my regular dose of xanax with my sedatives throughout the night.. without weed I tend to only be able to get 7 hours... on 1 mg I get about 7 but I'm fucking dead.

I did not take Benadryl to fall back to sleep today. It was just weed and it worked.

Transitioning back to a half will be hard but not as hard with weed. For now I'll just be excited about knocking out earlier than normal and I'm going to be hopeful about nuketown and not worry about xanax cause I get to see my Dr tomorrow.

[starlightkun]

okay but what if changer is my favourite starlightkun fic ever. what then 😳

also me the moment sungchan says he does astrophysics:

WE GOT IT! WE GOT IT EVERYONE, THE STARLIGHT IN THE STARLIGHTKUN, THE MEL SPECIAL, ONE STARGAZING DATE™ COMING RIGHT UP!!!

also y/n being absolutely so done with hyuck and jaemin is hilarious like when they're at jenos party and shes like is this chenles doing? no the terrible duo woke up again this morning and decided to make it my problem i see i see. or when shes trying not to ✨romance✨ sungchan and is like yeah i can say this to my pals. i could say this to shotaro and jaemin because they're both my pals. maybe not hyuck tho idk the vibes are off

no but genuinely this is one of my favourite fics you've ever written, it feels so natural and the way you wrote sungchan makes me feel so warm and fuzzy (i love finding people as insane about him as i am) i want to be there. also the denim baseball caps with lavender embroidery???? so fucking cute holy shit.

honestly with this pair i could see them pulling a tdhea and start dating but decide not to tell jaemin, hyuck or shotaro. like shotaro sees her walk out of sungchans bedroom in the morning and hes all 🤨 and y/ns like "studying werewolf anatomy is so HARD 🤪🤪🤪 thankfully sungchan is such a great teacher and goes slow at first so i can get the hang of it" like really fucking with them as payback for their meddling. or sungchan going up to hyuck and jaemin lamenting about his unrequited love and asking them for advice on what flowers to give someone who doesnt like you back and the dryads are like 🥺🥺 but they do like you back and sungchans like 😓 i am a man with faults, i have made mistakes 🤧 and i am not worth the pain or suffering 🫡🥲💀 like really playing into his loserboy potential

anyways thats all lives were changed, changer changed lives

-✨anon

omg 😳 ur fave 🥺🥺

and literally me writing any sort of learn'ed man who knows things about the stars like....at this point its inevitable its a canon event that i cannot interfere with in every single universe i will write a stargazing date like ajsfgjdfgkjg;; anywayyyy i hope they've all been different enough to not be too redundant??? or i hope that yall at least like stargazing dates too lmao

the rest of my response got sooo long and contains minor/vague changer spoilers so it's under the cut :)

dryad!hyuck: *exists*

half of the characters in the strawbsunday universe: idk the vibes are off

and im fr soooo glad there's one other person out here that's unwell in the head abt jung sungchan. im on my sungchanist shit 24/7 lately like between changer pt 1 being 22k, phantasmagorical pt 1 being 21k, and the both of them having pt 2s in the works........ im down bad and im never getting back up im telling u 🫠🫠

nahh bc if hyuck had to deal with ANOTHER oblivious (or "oblivious") pair after woos x strawbsunday reader and sungie x tdhea reader (bc in my canon timeline that i keep in my notes, changer does take place after both of those) he would literally kill somebody. like somebody would Die. he wouldn't bother beating around the bush either. he'd just sit the both of them down and very calmly say "you two have big fat stupid crushes on each other and if you don't fucking admit it im going to walk outside and commit vehicular homicide right now" with one of his eyes twitching. my bestie would be Fed Up. like sungchan x changer reader were only safe bc hyuck wasn't as good of friends with sungchan but if they pulled THAT shit they wouldn't be spared twice

NAWT the werewolf anatomy 😭😭😭 poor taro their rooms share a wall....... but, you know, reader IS an MCS student, and "there's so little literature on half-werewolves, it's a fascinating opportunity to get hands-on experience and research— hey taro why are you running away i haven't even told you about my thesis question yet"

also i agree w u that i could totally see changer reader and sung trying to pull a tdhea (with it being either one of their ideas tbh, they'd both think it would be hilarious), but werewolf sungchan is way too much of a simp (affectionate) and ruins it almost immediately. it's day 2 and they arrive separately to a movie night at jeno and jaemin's and reader is trying to ~coyly~ sit just close enough to sungchan on the couch but he's just so excited to see them he's like "oh hi baby!!" and pulls them onto his lap and and kisses them in front of EVERYONE. and their friends r all just like. "uh, fascinating way to tell us that ur dating, guys. cool." bc they all think that it was an intentional grand reveal and not sungchan royally fucking up them keeping it a secret [not canon but hilarious to imagine]

ALSO also your imitation of sung "😓 i am a man with faults, i have made mistakes 🤧 and i am not worth the pain or suffering 🫡🥲💀" had me cackling at my desk at work today like so true he IS loserboy (beloved) but we have not yet witnessed his peak simp behavior nor his peak loserboyness