#keeping me up at night for almost 4 months now insomnia kicking my ass

[bandomgay]

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[kbstories]

impression//expression

“It’s not like Kirishima had come all this way to U.A. to immediately break the promise he made to himself upon arrival.

It’s just that Bakugou is as feral as they come, and the moment Kirishima recognizes it’s fear he felt crawling up his spine that day, he makes it his personal mission to face it head-on until it’s gone.”

(Or: Being friends with Bakugou Katsuki is anything but a linear experience. Kirishima Eijirou would have it no other way.)

Tags: Kirishima POV, Developing Friendships, Kamino Arc, Kidnapping & Aftermath, Hurt/Comfort, Bakugou Gets A Hug

Chapter 1. Chapter 2. Chapter 3. Content warning for kidnapping, aftermath of violence. Chapter 5. Chapter 6. Chapter 7. Chapter 8. Chapter 9.

***

Nitro!! (Baku 💣💥)

i’m gonna die (sent 19:08)

no seriously i’m this 👌🏻 close to losing it bro (sent 19:08)

aizawa’s voice is so zzzz and it’s like sir,, i’m begging,,,, (sent 19:09)

a little bit of energy. just a little bit (sent 19:09)

A nudge to his side, somewhat urgent.

shit brb (sent 19:10)

“Dude.”

Kirishima keeps his voice down to a hiss, shooting a glance at Aizawa’s turned back just in case. Hidden behind his pencil case, his phone shows Bakugou has read his messages – near-immediately, as always – before Kirishima locks the screen. His own face is reflected on sleek, innocent black.

Next to him, Kaminari is looking at him like he’s lost his mind. “Don’t dude me, dude”, he whispers back. “Texting in Aizawa’s class? D’you have a death wish?”

Next to Kaminari, Mina leans over her desk, clearly curious and uncaring of her notes crinkling quietly under her elbows. “You? Kiri, paragon of wholesomeness and sunshine, breaking the rules? Lemme guess, it’s because of Bakugou.”

Next to Mina, Sero joins the fray with a muted headshake. “So brave yet so reckless. Truly inspiring.”

“You can say that again. That guy’s scary, man.” That’s Kaminari again. He leans in conspiratorially, nodding at Kirishima’s phone. “You got Blasty’s number? How? He almost bit my head off when I invited him to the 1-A chat.”

“Uh, yeah? We’re besties. But guys…”

If they were anywhere else, Kirishima would let out a whine. All he wanted to do was keep himself awake by texting his bro, is that such a crime? Especially since Bakugou’s the only one of ‘em who is actually allowed out there, where the fun stuff is happening. It’s downright cruel to have a new challenge dangled in front of their eyes like the juiciest steak only to be dragged away to the equivalent of plain steamed broccoli. Or something.

Point is: Kirishima’s bored enough he could cry and Aizawa, bless his insomnia-plagued soul, is making it about a thousand times worse with his monotone mumbling while he continues to write whatever-the-fuck in chalk to illustrate his point.

Three mouths open simultaneously in what Kirishima knows will be a too-loud bout of teasing – a frantic gesture of his hand to shut up, shut up, shut up has identical grins bursting on his friends’ faces.

Grins that disappear the instant the familiar sense of Aizawa’s quirk washes over them. Uh oh.

Aizawa doesn’t even have to say anything. Not even a brief pause registers in his lecture yet Kirishima snaps to attention so hard his buttcheeks clench as he furiously scribbles down what’s on the board. Some sort of… diagram? (It’ll make sense later, Kirishima hopes. And if it doesn’t, there’s always his equally draconic tutor-slash-best-friend he can poke into helping him eventually.)

After a semester at U.A., everyone in 1-A is whipped enough that not a single word is breathed between them for a good fifteen minutes. Aizawa talks, they take notes.

Then the adrenaline wears off and Kirishima finds himself drifting once more, fingers automatically flicking the home button. There, over Crimson Riot’s confident grin, three new messages.

Nitro!! (Baku 💣💥)

pay attention (received 19:14)

ffs (received 19:14)

hope aizawa murdered your ass (received 19:16)

No surprises there. Well, the fact that Bakugou has deigned to reply just before a training exercise kind of is, and he even triple-texted which makes a sappy part of Kirishima’s brain think he must’ve rubbed off on him over the past months. The day Bakugou Katsuki discovers emojis can’t be far off now and it will be Kirishima’s greatest achievement to date.

He bites his lip to suppress an amused noise at that. Ignoring the incredulous stare from Kaminari to his right, Kirishima types.

Nitro!! (Baku 💣💥)

haha! i lived bitch (sent 19:32)

minus the bitch askdjfhsk sry (sent 19:32)

i’m just tired af lol (sent 19:32)

how’s things on ur end tho? (sent 19:34)

no asses left unkicked i’m sure (sent 19:34)

👊🏻💥💥 (sent 19:35)

Kirishima gets about a solid second to feel good about furthering his pro-emoji agenda before his phone is snatched away by rigid, white cloth. Wide-eyed, his gaze is met by a flat expression that exudes more exhaustion than any human should rightfully have to feel.

“Kirishima”, Aizawa says, as calm as ever. “How kind of you to lend me your attention.”

Lord have mercy. Whichever hell Aizawa is about to unleash on him, Kirishima will be in it for a while. And when that’s over, it’ll be Bakugou’s turn to have a field day with it.

Somehow, Kirishima is actually looking forward to that last part.

*

Then, a voice rings out in their heads. Aizawa jumps into motion. The villains strike.

Afterwards, all Kirishima can do is stand there and watch the forest burn. His phone is silent, held between fingers that won’t stop trembling no matter what he does. He unlocks, checks, locks, only to do it all over again a few minutes or seconds later.

Around him, everything is spinning out of control. Reality is too loud, too bright, already overwhelming where it waits to be acknowledged beyond the soothing green interface of his chat with Bakugou.

The messages are still there. Marked read until they aren’t, and Kirishima stares at that subtle difference like it’s the last thing tethering him to the ground. Blue tick, his best friend is fine. Grey tick–

Bakugou let Kirishima take a photo of him, once. Kirishima had complained about his profile picture being that creepy default silhouette, especially once they started texting on a daily basis. So Bakugou sighed and leaned over the tiny table of the café, his chin propped on one hand and his coffee in the other. He’d kept still just long enough for the shutter to go off and called him a clingy bastard right after.

In the soft morning light, there’d been something warm in his typical glare. It’s still there, tucked away in the top left corner of the screen. Fond, red eyes, looking straight at Kirishima ever since.

Higher and higher, the flames reach for the sky with greedy, cobalt fingers, bright enough to take the stars with them. And Bakugou?

Bakugou is gone.

*

Nitro!! (Baku 💣💥)

hey (sent 23:01)

it’s a long shot but (sent 23:03)

are u there? (sent 23:03)

these are going thru so ur phone is on and i thought (sent 23:08)

idk (sent 23:08)

please respond man (sent 23:37)

please (sent 23:58)

katsuki? (sent 00:40)

*

Nitro!! (Baku 💣💥)

fuck (sent 3:24)

*

Bakugou Katsuki

um (sent 6:13)

the pros asked for ur number to track it and stuff so i gave it to them (sent 6:13)

turns out almost nobody has it?? so like (sent 6:20)

if u want a new one after all this it’s on me (sent 6:21)

pls don’t be mad haha (sent 6:21)

fuck that actually (sent 7:05)

be as mad as u want baku (sent 7:06)

u can do whatever ok? when u come back (sent 7:09)

free pass. i won’t guard this time (sent 7:09)

just come back (sent 8:00)

they’re looking for u so u gotta come back (sent 8:02)

* 

Baku 💣💥

sry i just (sent 19:55)

ok still going thru (sent 19:55)

that’s good right? (sent 19:57)

i need it to be good (sent 20:05)

yeah (sent 20:06)

*

Baku 💣💥

it’s saturday (sent 2:33)

please be ok (sent 4:46)

i miss u (sent 5:00)

*

Baku 💣💥

we’re on our way katsuki (sent 12:45)

just hold on we’re coming for u (sending…)

wait (sending…)

oh (sending…)

*

Bakugou is quiet.

When all is said and done, injuries patched up and police statements given, Kirishima waits and Bakugou looks… tired. Small. Glancing back at the precinct with eyes a little too wide, a little too hesitant to truly belong to him.

Whatever he’s searching, if he finds it or not – Kirishima can only guess as Bakugou’s shoulders slump further and he mutters, “Let’s just go.”

In retrospect, he was probably talking to his parents. The Bakugous came for their son in a car as expensive as they come, white with chrome highlights and an interior clad entirely in tasteful, beige leather; it’s an aesthetic that’s the antithesis to Katsuki’s. Their expressions are full of love, though, brows drawn in concern carefully left unspoken. His father opens the back door for him first, going for his own in the front, while his mother ruffles Bakugou’s hair within the one-second-window he allows for the touch before shrugging it off.

“Welcome back, brat. We missed ya.”

Familiar phrases laden with far too much weight. From the outside in, it’s just that: Mildly exasperated parents picking up their kid after some school thing that dragged on into the night, or perhaps a late hangout with a friend. No one acknowledges the nightmare-ish three days they’ve left behind by the merit of time passing and the world spinning on and nothing else – the countless people injured or dead, an entire district torn asunder in a conflict much bigger than any of them, especially Bakugou.

Bakugou, who shuffles onto the backseat without saying much of anything. It’s only after Kirishima trails after him and Bakugou’s eyes meet his own over his shoulder that Kirishima realizes that’s what he’s doing.

Then Bakugou’s gaze softens and he kicks the door of the car open wider. “Um”, Kirishima pipes up, the noise of keys clinking together drawing his attention to one Bakugou Mitsuki. “Is it okay if I…?”

She snorts and ruffles his hair, too. “Kid, after what you did tonight, a ride home is the least I can do for ya. C’mon.”

Kirishima bows politely, a mumble of “Thanks, ma’am” waved away immediately. A moment later, Kirishima’s hand is being grabbed and he’s dragged inside. “Get a move on”, Bakugou mumbles, staring pointedly until Kirishima rights himself and digs for the seatbelt with his free hand. The click of the clasp snapping in is oddly loud in the ensuing silence.

It doesn’t last. The moment the engine purrs to life and the lights go off, a heavy guitar riff screeches from cleverly hidden speakers in perfect surround sound and Kirishima jumps. He’s the only one in the car to do so.

“Whoops, my bad”, says Bakugou’s mom as she turns the music down the slightest amount, her smirk – so familiar and yet not – clearly visible in the rear-view mirror. Next to her, Bakugou’s dad chuckles and shakes his head.

Bakugou himself is turned towards the window, the hand against his chin barely hiding the tiny smirk there. Kirishima lets him have it. Anything that’ll replace that lost expression from earlier is good in his books.

“So. Eijirou, right? Nice to finally meet ya.” Mrs. Bakugou checks in with him via the mirror. Her hand rests on the gear selector. “Where to? We’ll bring you home first. I’m sure your parents are worried.”

And oh fuck, Kirishima hasn’t even thought that far ahead yet. When he snuck out of the house a lifetime ago, all his mind was able to process was getting to Bakugou, saving Bakugou, bringing Bakugou back. As much as both his mothers are angels in their own right, they’re also easily worried and twice as buff as him. There haven’t been many occasions which called for them to throw down for their son but they totally would if given half the chance.

If they catch wind of even a fraction of what Kirishima got up to tonight, someone will have to pay. Kirishima’s willing to bet his most prized, limited-edition Crimson Riot figurine that that someone will end up being all of U.A., nationally famous pro heroes or not.

Before any of that can make it out of his mouth, Kirishima’s hand is squeezed and… Oh. Bakugou’s still holding it. Their skin isn’t touching; Kirishima’s sleeve has been pulled down to prevent that.

(It’s one of those things Bakugou does, tracking who and what gets in direct contact with his sweat and how to neutralize it in time. It makes Kirishima’s chest ache that, despite everything that happened, he is still aware of small things like that.)

“He’s crashing at ours tonight”, Bakugou tells his parents rather gruffly. Still looking out the window like there’s nothing unusual about that at all, and Kirishima gapes at him in complete and utter surprise. Bakugou’s grip only tightens.

“Got a problem with that?”

Just like that, Kirishima finds himself able to process speech. “Nope! Not at all. Uh, that is– Mrs. Bakugou, Mr. Bakugou, can I?”

Bakugou’s parents look similarly caught off-guard. To their credit, they merely blink and look at each other, shrugging. Again, it’s the mother who speaks. “That’s Mitsuki and Masaru to you, kid. Let’s go home, then.”

And that’s that. They set off, the car’s movement a quiet thrum that’s drowned out by complicated drum solos and vocals barely scraping past outright growling. Any other day, Kirishima would’ve been ecstatic to finally get to meet the Bakugous. He’d hoard bits and pieces of knowledge about them – such as the fact that Katsuki’s taste in music runs in the family, what the hell – like a dragon does gold coins. The notion that Bakugou invited him to their first sleep-over ever would be the biggest treasure on that pile, for sure.

Because Bakugou Katsuki is anything if not cautious: with his quirk, with his time, with his trust. Because, after days of pacing his room and worrying himself sick and crying until exhaustion took him out, their plan worked.

They pulled it off, Bakugou is back and alive, and Kirishima’s allowed to stay by his side a little bit longer.

He’s here because Bakugou wants him to be and that… feels better than Kirishima can properly put into words. So, no, he doesn’t boast about it, he doesn’t have the energy to – but Kirishima notes and appreciates it nonetheless, relief forming a ball of warmth and light that radiates within him like a tiny sun got stuck between his lungs and his heart. Bit by bit, it melts the tension off Kirishima’s bones until all he can grasp is the steady presence of Bakugou’s hand in his and how heavy his eyelids feel.

Kirishima could sleep for a week straight and still crave a nap afterwards. Probably.

There’s something he has to do before he crashes, though. With a gentle squeeze, he frees his hand to grab his phone and winces at the dozens of unread messages and missed calls that greet him. Both the group he has with his family as well as the one for 1-A have been running hot most of the night, reducing his battery to a pitiful 12%.

Opening up the chat with his moms, Kirishima scrolls to the bottom of the increasingly worried barrage of texts and hesitates, his fingers hovering over the keypad. Once he starts typing, he’ll have about a minute before shit really hits the fan.

💪🏻Kirishima Power 💪🏻

guys i’m so sorry!!! (sent 21:58)

i know ur worried and stuff and i swear i’ll explain later ok?? (sent 21:58)

 just wanna let u know i’m safe!! staying over at baku’s tonight (sent 21:58)

he’s here and safe too (sent 21:58)

🙏🏻🙏🏻 (sent 21:59)

He pauses then, reading that last part over and over again. Safe. Safe, safe, safe. A smile cracks Kirishima’s lips apart and it remains there, steadfast through the flood of new messages rolling in.

*

Bakugou’s room is both everything Kirishima expected it to be and at the same time… not.

It’s huge, for one, the typical bed-wardrobe-desk setup expanded by a couch and a beanbag, a TV with a variety of game systems hooked up to it, a handful of shelves filled to the brim with books and manga and oh, a whole freaking drum set taking up a corner by itself. The walls are plastered with band posters and signed set lists and – less blatant but still there – the odd All Might merch Kirishima knows Bakugou would strangle him for mentioning, so he doesn’t.

What comes out of his mouth is: “Dude! I didn’t know you played drums. That’s so cool!”

Everything is kept in the triad of black-orange-green Kirishima recognizes from a certain hero costume. A few discarded shirts aside, it’s really tidy. So much so that Kirishima feels ashamed of the state of his own room just by seeing this.

The feeling is compounded by Bakugou picking up those shirts and throwing them in the hamper first thing, a quiet tch indicating he’s annoyed by it. Kirishima isn’t up to outing himself as an unrepentant walking mess in comparison – instead, he makes a beeline for the bookshelf with the manga, eyes drawn to a row of covers he’d recognize in a heartbeat.

“Wha– I’ve been looking for these for ages! They’re sold out every time I try to catch up on ‘em.”

A short glance at Bakugou is answered with a shrug and an eye-roll: It’s Bakugou-speak for do whatever the hell you want. Kirishima pulls out the volume he stopped at and leafs through it.

It’s meant as a distraction for Bakugou, a space for him to drop the put-together façade and breathe without people constantly fussing over him. It’s honestly what Kirishima would rather be doing right now (exploring his best bro’s room be damned) but it’s not what Bakugou needs. Well, what Kirishima thinks he needs.

It’s hard to get a read on him without the constant snark and pointed glares. With some dinner in their bellies and Bakugou’s parents now safely downstairs, the expression that fits nowhere on the Angry Bakugou Face catalogue is back. Kind of uncomfortable and so… absent.

Kirishima is really starting to hate that expression.

It’s entirely accidental that Kirishima actually gets into reading. One chapter turns to three, turns to five, and the troubles and worries whirling ever-tighter in his chest ease for a bit until–

Woosh. A soft, balled-up something knocks against the back of his head. Kirishima startles and almost drops the manga, a vaguely alarmed noise stopped short by the sight of Bakugou in sweats and a well-worn, black shirt. His hair is wet. Wild as ever. At Kirishima’s feet: A similar outfit including a towel.

“Bathroom’s that way. Leave your clothes out by the door, I got special detergent for the nitro. Shampoo and shit’s in the shower, there’s a toothbrush for you by the sink. Use it.”

Kirishima opens his mouth.

Bakugou sighs. “It’s just a fucking toothbrush, Kiri. Wreck it for all I care.”

Kirishima closes his mouth. He nods. His phone is quickly dug out of his pocket and set aside, then he slips out to shower.

A good fifteen minutes later, he opens the door to let out a gust of steam and sees his clothes are gone. The hallway is empty, half-lit by the light coming from downstairs. The Bakugous have been as nonchalant about their spontaneous guest as Bakugou himself; even so, Kirishima tries not to linger or make too much noise as he sneaks back to Bakugou’s room.

“Baku. I’m back.”

Bakugou gives him a grunt of acknowledgement from where he’s fitting some sheets over the couch, folded out to provide a decently sized bed. There’s a pillow and a pile of blankets next to him, wrapped in fresh linen as well. It’s unlikely he’s stopped doing stuff since Kirishima left and if he is about ready to crash in five to ten minutes, he can’t imagine how Bakugou is doing right now.

Y’know, the guy who just survived being kidnapped by Japan’s newest and most notorious villain menace. No amount of pretense can make that simple fact undone.

Kirishima pads over to help, the offer to take over already on his lips but– Too late. The last corner is already being tucked in and laid flat with grim-faced efficiency. Left with nothing else to do, Kirishima sits down on the very edge, eyes downcast and fingers fiddling with the hem of his borrowed shirt. There’s some sort of band logo on it, an English word written in that typical death-metal-font that looks like someone dumped a bunch of white sticks in a pile and called it a day.

It’s soft. A little loose and frayed around the edges.

“Hey, Baku?”

Taking the blankets, Bakugou dumps them in Kirishima’s lap. “Mh?” He makes to step away and Kirishima doesn’t think, just reaches out and catches the back of his shirt.

“Dude, seriously. Just… sit down for a minute. Please?”

And Bakugou… listens. He stops, he frowns at Kirishima for a moment like he’s trying to figure out what his deal is, he sighs like he’s been presented with the world’s most aggravating puzzle – and then he tells Kirishima to scooch. “What? I’m not gonna sit on the fucking floor”, he says.

Kirishima can’t keep the relief off his face as he gladly makes room on the couch, leaning against its arm and tucking his legs in. Once Bakugou has settled, cross-legged with an elbow propped on the backrest, Kirishima throws the blanket over both of ‘em. Might as well get comfortable while they still can.

“Okay.” He steels himself with a long, slow breath. “I know you hate this kinda thing and we’re both tired and… stuff. Still, though: Are you okay?”

Bakugou gives him a look, which– Okay, fair. It’s a dumb question with an obvious answer. Kirishima doesn’t back down, though, humming to buy himself some time to rephrase.

“Like… It’s fine if you’re not. Okay, I mean. And if you’d rather go the fuck to bed and not think about this for a while that’s fine, too. But that was pretty rough and you’ve been, um, quiet. And stuff. So, I’m kinda worried. Y’know?”

Kirishima pauses. A bit lower, he mumbles: “And I missed you. So yeah.”

At some point, he dropped his gaze to his hands, limp and useless in his lap. Kirishima swore not to be a coward anymore but it’s hard, to speak and ask about things in full awareness he has no fucking clue what he’s doing.

All he wants is for Bakugou to be okay. That’s all that matters, at the end of a day like this.

“I’m not”, Bakugou says, tentatively. Like he’s making up his mind as he goes. “I’m not gonna waste your time with ‘I’m fine’. I’m not. This shit’s fucked up.” And again he sighs, sounding so fucking tired Kirishima’s heart squeezes in sympathy.

“I haven’t slept in three fucking days; my shoulders are killing me from using my quirk and sitting chained to that stupid chair and whatever the fuck else. The League scouted me specifically because they thought I’d make a good villain and fuck them for that. Fuck them. But it’s just… It’s whatever. It doesn’t matter.”

Whatever Kirishima expected, it’s not that. He looks up and into Bakugou’s eyes and–

He can’t mean that, can he? Kirishima searches his face for evidence to the contrary, traces the tension around Bakugou’s mouth and the exhaustion smudged under his eyes and the line between his brows, growing deeper under Kirishima’s scrutiny. It all reads defeat. It hurts.

They won, right? A childish voice within Kirishima can’t help but cling to that even as he looks back down. They won, and things are supposed to get better when you win.

“People got hurt. People died, Kiri. Heroes, too.” Bakugou takes a shaky breath, a hand going to his hair and rubbing it roughly. “Fucking… Best Jeanist was there and nobody at the precinct wanted to tell me if he’s alive or dead or what. All of Kamino Ward is fucking gone and All Might–”

Bakugou’s voice cracks right down the middle and it hurts. Like there’s a beast tearing through Kirishima’s chest to rip out his heart and throw it to the floor, stubbornly beating as it bleeds out.

Kirishima wants to say something. Anything. All he can hear is Bakugou’s breathing but it’s all wrong, off-rhythm and thread-bare and upset, and any doubt what that means is erased as Bakugou’s hand clenches on the sheets and he sniffs, wet on the exhale.

“Baku–”

“Don’t. Kiri, don’t–”

He’s always been like that, ordering him around and demanding things when politeness dictates to ask for them instead. His tone is as close to pleading as Kirishima’s ever heard from Bakugou, though, and it twists him up inside to the point he feels distantly nauseous.

“Don’t look.” Bakugou isn’t supposed to sound like that. Not now, not ever. “Okay? Don’t f-fucking– Don’t look at me right now.”

“Okay”, Kirishima says. “I won’t.” His own voice is a mess as well, trembling all over the place. “I won’t, Nitro. I won’t.”

You’re safe, is what he wants to tell him. It’s okay, you’re safe now. That’s not what Bakugou is asking of him. Kirishima can’t stop himself from crying because it’s always been hard not to when the people he loves are doing it, but… He tries. For Bakugou, he’ll always try.

Through eyes heavily clouded by tears, he sees Bakugou’s hand tighten, knuckles going white and bloodless. Painfully tense, and Kirishima can’t stand the sight of that, either.

He shuffles a little closer to place his hand over that fist, careful to only touch the back of Bakugou’s hand. Kirishima whispers, “I’m here”, and Bakugou audibly swallows. He lets him slip his fingers in-between his own.

Holding on, just as he did in the car and when they met in mid-air, that desperate instance that decided whether he would make it out alive or not.

Bakugou holds on even as he breaks for good and his shoulders shake with his sobs. As he continues to breathe in gulps of air that sound strangled and desperate, through tears that leave a pattern of uneven dots on the blanket. By morning they will be gone without a trace: The sun will come up, the world will continue to travel around it, and time will reveal the road they walk on as they walk it, step by step by step.

Just because it’s meant to pass doesn’t make this moment any less real. Any less important. Kirishima sits there and listens to his best friend cry. He remembers days spent without him and the mad dash to save him. He thinks of dumb questions and obvious answers.

It’s hard to tell if this is one of them, so he gathers all his courage and asks: “Katsuki. Can I hug you?”

Just like last time, Bakugou doesn’t say anything. He laughs, a watery, humorless thing – and he pulls at Kirishima’s shirt to crush him to his chest. His arms wind around Kirishima’s neck, Bakugou’s face pressing against his hair where Kirishima won’t be able to see him.

It’s fine. Kirishima’s great at hugs; he can totally work with that. Clenching his eyes shut, he adjusts his grip around Bakugou’s waist so he can rub his back, following the bumps of his spine. Up and down, over and over. Bakugou goes boneless in their embrace, not about to let go anytime soon and neither will Kirishima.

Eventually, Kirishima tucks his head against Bakugou’s shoulder, blinking sleep from his eyes. Safe. He doesn’t fight the sharp-toothed smile on his lips. Bakugou mumbles, “Fucking sap”, nearly drowned out by their collective sniffling.

It sounds a whole lot like thank you. Kirishima’s smile only grows.

>>Chapter 5

[scentedsongrebel]

Midnight Missing

Pairings: Steve Rogers × Reader 

Summary: When you start leaving the room around midnight only to come back in the mornings Steve starts to become suspicious and who better to help him than the worst spies in history.

Warnings: Cursing, mentions of insomnia, mentions of sex but no actual smut, stupid plot ,spying on people, please tell me if I miss any.

Word Count: 5460 ish

A/N: S

So I would start by saying that this is the most stupid thing I have ever written but this idea was in my brain for a long time and then I started writing and then it was complete and I do not see the point in just not posting. So we ware.

Poorly edited so I would get back at it.

Reviews always appreciated. Hope you guys like this one.

“Tringgggggg!!!!!” The alarm buzzes viciously pulling you out of dreamland. Blindly, you move your hand in the direction of the noise trying to get a hold of the devil.

4:00 am. You groan and move to sit, rubbing your eyes with the base of gour palms. The spring of the couch bounces you a little as you adjust to sitting.

Just as you pocket your phone in your pajamas and place your feet on the fluffy sneakers, a voice calls out

“Are you ever going to tell him?”

You groan in irritation

“No” is your simple answer as you gather your pillow and blanket in a ball with the blanket engulfing the pillow.

“You should”

“And you should mind your own business”

The same conversation everyday. no night .4:00 am is night .

“My best friend’s love life is my business”

This makes you laugh as you turn towards

“Really” you ask “All these days and that is the best comeback you can come up with Buck?”

“There really is no scope after that none of your business line” he scaraches the back of his head “But serioualy though, you can’t possibly keep this up for long, he will find out evetually”

“Try me” you say in challenge “We’ve been together an year, I’ve been doing this for 10 months, he has no clue”

“This surely is not healthy” he sighs “Isn’t this like signs of a relationship falling down or something”

“As a matter of fact this is the reason our relationship is still intact and going smoothly” you say a little proudly “and I’ll tell what isn’t healthy” you start to move towards the dark hallway. “You being awake everynight”

“Atleast I’m going to therapy for my problem” he screams after “Unlike you–

But you are long gone.

—————–

Shifting in his sleep, Steve moves his body to your side and extends his arm to pull you close. His arm flies out but never catches a target instead falling on the empty bed. He taps the empty space a few times shifting a little and opening his eyes.

You are not there.

He groans and sits up, looking over at the bathroom to see if you are there. But the light is off.

Just as he comtemplates moving to see where you are, the door to your shared room opens and you enter with a big yawn.

Steve frowns and calls out

“Baby?”

Your head shots up and your eyes widen like a deer caught in headlights

“St-Steve” you stutter a little “Hey baby! Goodmorning”

Steve furrows his brows and rubs his eyes as you move to your side of the bed and pull the sheets to get in.

“Goodmorning? you hate the morning” he says and looks at you suspiciously “You once told me ‘no morning is ever good’”

You want to whine at that. You really wanted to sleep some more and your sleepy eyes are begging to be closed again as you settle on the bed, turning to face him

“Yeah well formality” you say in irritance

“Where were you?” He asks just as you start to lay down

“Midnight snacks” “Again?”

“I love myself some midnight snacks” you shift to face him in your lying position and motion him to get down as well. He obeys lying on his side of the bed facing you. You move your hand to carass his beard “Can we just sleep, I’m really sleepy Baby”

He just nods and pulls you into his side. You lay your head on his chest as his hand gently runs down your back. Sleep seems to have completely left him as his eyes narrow and he looks at the celing.

Something is wrong and he sure as hell would find out what that something is.

———————

Morning runs with Sam were the least challenging thing he had to do as a part of his training. It was more for his inner satisfaction than staying healthy. The serum made sure he was always healthy.

It always made sure he could never get drunk. Never unwind for some time, loose himself.

That is when he discovered running. The thrill, the adrenaline pumping through his veins adicting in itself, and even though he didn’t need to run in the mornings, he actually did.

He has and would always love his runs. The air kissing all over his face, the refreshing feeling. Spending time with his friend, the joy of leaving him behind screaming ‘on your left’ to irritate him.

Steve doesn’t like to admit it but that is his favorite part. He once had you join the morning runs when you just couldn’t sleep but all you did was jump on his back while he ran without any bother, having you scream ‘on your left’ whenever you passed Sam. It was rare bonding moment for his friend and girlfriend. Sam doesn’t agree on that.

Today he sits on one of the park benches sipping from his water bottle. Bucky has joined them on the run today like he does sometimes.

Bucky sits besides him, his head thrown back, Sam beside Bucky, trying to catch his breath.

Sam has given up on trying to compete with Steve these days but with Bucky joining them every rational thought had left his mind. He had ran like his life depended on it and had almost reached Bucky’s level. Steve actually had felt really proud. Bucky hadn’t.

But these aren’t the things that bother his mind right now. All he can think about is you and your suspicious behavior.

Is something bothering you? Can you not sleep properly, do you have nightmares that you don’t wanna talk about?

He sighs and runs his hand through his hair.

“Tin man’s the one that got his ass handed to him today. Why are you the one in agony?” Sam asks bending forward to get a look at him

“You lost bird-brain”

“I got near you without the serum in my blood, I won”

“Oh please you-

“Guys” Steve sighs again

“Oh yeah right” Sam turns to him “Your agony”

“I am not in agony” Steve looks at him irritated “Its just- you know what leave it”

“Hey no now I wanna know” Bucky pushes his body forward to look at Steve “What happened?”

“Its just” he looks down at his feet and sighs “its Y/N”

“Trouble in paradise?” Sam asks raising his eyebrows”

“Umm I- no no not like that” Steve shakes his head “I just - I think she is hiding something from me”

At this Bucky’s form tenses but his two friends- no scratch that, his best friend and the birdman are too busy to pay him any attention.

“Why would you think that” Sam unleashes his inner therapist moving his body forward and leaning his head on his hands, elbows resting on his knees as he carefully listens to Steve observing his body language carefully.

“She-She just” Steve scratches the back of his head “I think- I know it sounds insane and I trust her but its just I think she is sleeping someplace else at night”

Bucky coughs loudly causing Steve to reach over and pat his back as Bucky tries to regain his breath

“You okay?”

“Oh yeah yeah perfect perfect”

“What happened?”

“Choked on my spit” Bucky tries not to wince at his stupid excuse “Forget about me” he shakes his head and runs his hand through his hair

“You think she is cheating on you” Sam asks incredulously and stands up from his position, eyes blazing

“Sam- No- I” but Sam is having none of it as he pounces Steve on his shoulder only to hurt himself and wince in pain. He shakes his hand as he moves his now red knuckles to his other hand to massage.

“Y/N is not like that you ass” he hisses still massaging his knuckles

“Listen- Sam”

“No no no, I don’t need your stupid explanations or you producing evidences” His glare enough to make Steve wince “She is the most pure, innocent and amazing woman and you have no right to accuse her like that, she is my family and I will defend her honor till my last breath”

Sam finishes without breaking eye contact with the blonde super soldier in front of him

A bird chirpes in the distance and a cyclist moves past them, behind Sam, tringing the bell on his handle causing Sam to move ahead a little. A gush of air runs through the open fields of the park as none of them break their stance.

Steve, in his horrified shock unable to speak anything. Sam with his finger poking Steve in the chest, breathing heavily from his intense speech. And Bucky with a curve on his lips.

“Wow” Bucky sighs after a few minutes of silence and then starts slow clapping “that was intense Wilson”

Sam turns his glare in Bucky’s direction and stares directly in his eyes. As those brown eyes shine with the intensity so strong, Bucky suddenly realizes why Steve went Silent.

“Wow, hey” he raises his hands in surrender “I was just saying” he then points at Steve “he is the one accusing your family of treason”

This seems to wake Steve up from his daze

“I am not-” but he is stopped by a punch hitting his jaw “AAAAAAAA”

“WHAT THE HELL SAM!!!!��

“You deserved that”

“No I didn’t” Sam starts to interrupt but Steve quickly stands up covers Sam’s mouth with his hands “SILENT let me fucking speak”

“Language” a glare shot Bucky’s way shuts him up

“I said I think she is sleeping somewhere else” Sam kicks his leg at that still not able to speak “sleeping as in actual sleep. Not like the other thing. I do not think she is cheating on me”

He slowly releases Sam from his hold.

“You mean-” Sam suspiciously questions, his eyebrows scrunched together.

“No”

“Good because she is not” he huffs

“Okay as much as I love this drama which trust me I do” Bucky interrupts “I really think its nothing Steve”

“No you don’t understand Buck” Steve moves to sit beside his friend “I am sure she goes off somewhere in the night, I think she may be having nightmares or insomnia or doing something else and just doesn’t want to disturb me, she is selfless like that”

Bucky snorts at that. “What?”

“Oh nothing just something stuck in my nose” again he tries not to wince at his own horrible excuse just as Sam makes a face but both his friends ignore him

“So you think she just roams around in the night and comes back before you wake up?” Sam crosses his arms across his chest as he sits down on the park bench again. The old bench makes a screechy sound as he takes a seat.

“Yes”. “But why?”. “She doesn’t want to worry me with her sleeping problems I think”. “Or maybe Fury has assigned her some secret mission”

Bucky snorts again and Sam shoots him a look

“What is with you huh?” “Nothing just my nose”.

 “Then use a handkerchief Barnes”

Bucky just glares at him

“Should I just confront her?” Steve completely ignores the argument having grown immune to their banters.

A smile makes its way at the corner of Bucky’s lips at that. He always told you you’d get caught but you always brushed him off. He remembers your encounter the morning and his smile dwarfs into a smirk. This will be interesting.

“Yeah that sounds like a-” Sam starts to say

“No” Bucky quickly interrupts. Steve looks at him with his brows knitted while Sam has nothing but irritation “I don’t think asking her is a good idea”

“Why not”

“Well you see” He scratches the back of his head as he looks around. Then moving forward and clicking the fingers of his right hand together.

“You see she is stubborn, you think you’ll ask her and she’d agree?”

“I-”

“Also if she figures out you are onto her she would get more attentive. You need to figure this out yourself”

“You want me to spy on her?

Bucky nods followed by Steve shaking his head.

“No. I can’t do that. Its an invasion of her privacy”. “Yeah but its not her privacy when she is lying to you and married people don’t have secrets”

“What-wait wait a minute” Steve looks at him with widened eyes “We are not married!”

“Yeah but you will be” Bucky waves his hand ignoring the hard blush spreading across Steve’s face “That is not the point. The point is you need to see what mission she is going on at night. And maybe give Fury an earful for making her work that late”

Steve starts to shake his head again and disagree

“No-I—”

“Lets do this” Sam claps his hands together, a grin spreading across his face

“What you agreeing with me or something Wilson?”

Sam holds a hand up to stop Bucky from speaking any further and ignores what he said

“You go to sleep at night like nothing is wrong” Sam says rubbing his hands together “Pretend to fall asleep, we will be hiding in the corridor when she wakes to leave and follow her”

“Wait I thought you were against doubting her” Steve says with a frown

“I am against accusing her of infidelity” Sam says solemnly “This is for her benefit”

“How even?”

“If Fury is sending her on missions at night. Those are not good for her well being. As her friends, boyfriend and family its our responsibility to assure her well being”

Bucky smirks thoroughly enjoying himself

“So its on then” Bucky brings his hand forward Mission: figure out where Y/N is going”

Sam produces a handkerchief from his pocket and places it on Bucky’s hand before placing his hand on top of it. Bucky raises an eyebrow

“What I don’t wanna catch whatever nose thing you have going on”

Bucky just shakes his head and moves their hands to Steve.

“I’m really gonna regret this”

And with a sigh, he puts his hand on top of Sam’s

———————

Tick tok, Tik tok the clock calls out mocking the short lived silence of the room.

Your face is pressed against Steve’s chest as you trace patterns on his skin. His arm is draped across your figure and holds you tight.

You feel particularly sleepy today after the mission you had and definitely don’t look forward you be woken up in the middle of the night again.

Maybe that is why you don’t notice the silence of the room. Or how easy it was to slip yourself off his arms this time.

Your spy brain tells you something is wrong but the sleep deprived side tells it to shut up.

You open the door and look on both the sides before making your way to the living room producing a pillow and blanket from the secret safe you have on the corridor floor before sighing as the couch comes into view.

Setting yourself down for a peaceful slumber you lie down and close your eyes, hoping for no disturbance before the devil alarm rings.

Your peace is short lived as the lights suddenly switch on and the noise of something falling off the roof catches your attention. You are quickly jolted to your senses and in a minute the gun under the couch points at the intruder.

“AHA” The voice screams “caught you”

And with a growl of irritance you realize its Sam

“What the hell is wrong with you”

Sam quickly stands up and dusts his body before pressing his finger to his ear

“Cornered the target in the living room”

You look around suddenly alert pointing your gun in all directions as your eyes move around the room in search of a target.

The compound has been infiltrated and you had no clue? This is really a hit on your spy skills.

Your eyes assess every corner of the room with intensity and when you find nothing, you turn back to look at Sam in confusion.

Footsteps sound from the corridor to the living areas and you straighten pointing your gun there.

A body, large and imposing comes into view and you are full on alert before the familiar mop of blonde hair catches your attention

“Really Sam” The figure says shaking their head

“Stevie?” Before Sam can reply you call out

Steve turns to you and starts to move in your direction before realizing something and coming to stop just a few feet away from you

“Steve Sam said target what target, where is it? Has there been a breech?”

She looks at Sam who scratches the back of his neck looking at her with guilt in her eyes and with a jolt she realizes that the target is in fact herself.

Her eyes widen in realization and she looks at Steve with betrayal in her eyes

“You -You got someone to spy on me?” You point your shaking finger at him dramatically “And that to by the worst spy in history”

“Hey-”

Sam is ignored as Steve shakes his head moving towards you

“No baby I-” You bring your hands in front of yourself in a stop motion taking a step back

‘‘‘

“Why would you spy on me?”

“I sweetheart I just I- didn’t want to but you are not in bed all night and we thought Fury was sending you on some secret mission and-

“How could you Steve” your voice is shaking and eyes are shining, Steve tries to take a step towards you but you raise your hand forward to stop him “I trusted you and you-

“Oh dear god stop it” A frustrated voice calls out from behind you and you turn back to find the black haired super soldier looking at you, shaking his head and pointing his finger at you “You know damn well he will buy it”

Your eyes morph themselves to project a glare at him and scowl angrily.

“I knew you were the traitor!”

Bucky raises his hands in surrender

“Oh no, blondie figured it out himself, shocked me too”

You don’t let down the glare as your eyes narrow at Bucky, staring match initiating itself between two people that have never loose. Once you two played the no blinking game and things got so out of hand when none of you gave up and your eyes were almost dry from the tears before Steve and Natasha had to force you both to stop.

“Okay What is going on here?” Sam looks at the both of you

This snaps you out of your trance and you turn to Steve who looks at you and Bucky with a frown on his face

“Steve I-”

“She’s not really upset at you” Bucky’s stupid voice calls out from behind you “Drama to deviate the subject”

“I swear to god Barnes-”. “Hey Sam lets give them privacy shall we?”

“What no I wanna-” but before he can finish Bucky pulls him out where he previously came from and hides them both behind the wall motioning for him to be quiet by putting a finger on his lips.

“Stevie I-” but Steve just shakes his head

“I thought you really were going on some secret mission but you just you-” He looks towards the couch with your blanket and pillow on it “You sleep here?”

“Stevie I-”

“Do you not like sleeping with me” He really looks heart broken and your heart hurts for him “Do you not wanna be with me and just can’t say it?”

“No baby” You shake your head vigorously and run towards him, enveloping your arms around his waist and rest your head on his chest “I love you, I would never want to leave you”

Steve brings his arms around you and hugs you back before bringing them to your shoulders to pull away and look at you. You stare down at your feet before he brings his hand on your chin and pulls your face up to look in his eyes

“Then what is the matter honey?”

“I-I just, its just” You look down again breaking eye contact and look towards the sofa space where you sleep these nights and your mind suddenly clicks “Its the mattress”

“The what?”

“The bed mattress” you nod your head “my back hurts when I sleep on it”

“Really baby” Steve smiles at that “You could’ve said so. We’ll get new ones immediately tomorrow” You smile as you look up at him and sigh in relief

“Oh thank god” You take hold of his hand “lets go to sleep, I can manage on that bed for one day baby”

Steve only smiles at you, giving you a peck on the lips “I love you and you don’t have to think you need to hide something like that from me ever again”

There is a twinge on your chest and before you can feel anymore bad about this you give him your cheekiest of smiles “Oh baby” And then you’re kissing him, softly and passionately, quickly trying to move towards the living quarters

“Are you kidding me!” A voice calls from behind you and Steve breaks apart to investigate before you pull him back with his shirt collar

“Ignore” you say through a peck “it will go away”

“No it won’t” the voice has gotten closer

“Come on Stevie” You pull away from the kiss and pull him towards the bedroom

“Oh no Stevie stop!”.

“Don’t be a cock block Barnes”. “Oh I won’t let you fool my best friend through sex like that”.

“I’m NOT-”

“Okay what is happening here” Steve asks looking at the both of you with confusion

“Nothing Steve, Barnes his just being an asshole”

“No I am not” Bucky says, returning your glare “She’s lying to you Stevie”

“Are you kidding me Barnes” you seethe before clenching your fist and jumping on him to attack but Steve knows you too well. He catches you and holds your body to his “leave me Baby, I’m gonna kill him”

Bucky seems unfazed by your threat as he crosses his arms across his chest

“Tell him the truth”. “There is no truth to tell!”. “Oh Really?”

“Okay what is going on here?” Steve commands authoritatively now as he steps forward letting go of where he was holding your waist “Can anyone explain to me why you two are fighting like children”

“Baby he is being a jerk”. “Stevie she is lying”

You both say at the same time and Steve sighs clearly annoyed. He shakes his head moving one hand to massage his forehead before turning back to you both

“Okay one at a time” He says “Buck you go first”

“Why does he get to-” you start but are stopped by the firm look on his face

“Because I wanna here what he is accusing you of before you clarifying it” He is clearly exasperated. You only cross your arms and pout in return.

Bucky smirks at you and you glare in return before he turns his attention back to Steve and starts

“She is lying to you” He says and you hiss at him, which causes him to actually wince and move a little away from you in fear “She has no problem with the mattress”

“And How would you know that?” Steve crosses his arms

“Because she told me”

“In confidence” you angrily mutter under your breath

“What was that” Bucky turns to you

“It was-” you both are stopped in your argument by a firm ‘shhhhh’ from Steve

“Don’t you two start again” he says in annoyance before turning to you and his face softens like it does every time he is around you. All authority lost as he asks “Baby?”

You sigh shaking your head “Baby I- ”

“What is he saying” Steve points at Bucky’s direction before moving towards you and enclosing his arms around your waist “Why would you lie to me? What is the matter? You know you can tell me”

“I baby I” you stutter. You need to tell him. You can’t keep lying to him. He means so much to you. You love him more than anything. He deserves to know.

You take a deep breath and start to tell him the truth but one look at the little green speck in the vast ocean of his sea blues and every thought leaves your mind as quickly as it came.

“I have Insomnia” you say quickly, your eyes wide and before Steve can say anything, before he can even give a reaction a voice shouts

“Oh for the love of god!!!” Bucky screams pulling at his hair

“Buck-” Steve starts to say

“You snore okay” Bucky damn near screams “Like real bad, was really a problem back in the 40’s too. She can’t sleep in all that noise and so she sleeps here on the couch”

He lets out a real exhale and motions towards you both

“Now go on talk, communicate whatever just solve this because I’m tired of both your dramatic asses”

Steve ignores his comment turning to face you where you are looking at your feet. He brings his thumb and index on your chin and moves your face to look at him. Your eyes shine and lips are pressed in a line and you refuse to look at him.

“Sweetheart look at me” You shake your head “Baby please” he tries again and you slowly move your eyes to make eye contact

“Is that really the reason?”

You sigh nodding your head

“Then why didn’t you just-”

You shake your head vigorously

“I didn’t know what to say to you” You say in a small voice “You had just started sleeping without the nightmares tainting your dreams and I didn’t want you to you know not sleep properly because of me”

“Darling-” you shake your head

“You worry a lot Stevie” You say “your self-scarifying ass would have started staying up or something”

He sighs and moves towards you engulfing you in his arms.

“We can do something about this don’t worry baby”

“Are you kidding me?” Sam screams and with a jolt you realize he has been standing besides Bucky

“This is it?” He scrunches his brows waving his hands frantically around him as he motions between the two of you “You mean to tell me all this melodrama was for this stupid reason”

You sigh and start to speak

“Sam-”

“What the hell is wrong with you two” He says pointing at you “you know there is a person called the sleep doctor that deals with this stuff. And wax earplugs. Best way to block the noise”

“How do you-”

“I was in the army too you know, there is always this one guy that snores like a fucking hippo”

“I don’t think hippos snore-”

“Shut up” Sam shakes his head, crossing his arms “So here’s what is gonna happen,You” he points at you “buy yourself those earplugs and you” points at Steve “Go to the fucking Sleep doctor and for the love of god you two stop being so irritatingly soft and all baby baby”

Bucky hides his smile behind his arms as Sam hushes through his speech

“I’m gonna go to sleep because this is the most ridiculous thing I have ever witnessed in my life and I just can’t anymore. Bye. Good night”.

He joins his hand like praying to someone and leaves towards the living quarters

Bucky’s eyes follow his departure before crossing his arms.

“So umm I just wanted to get things straight and now that they are I’m gonna go”

You narrow your eyes at him “Be careful of your surroundings Barnes, breaking my trust costs a lot”

Bucky shakes his head clearly not afraid as he starts to move towards the living quarters.

“We need to talk after this Buck” Steve calls out

This makes Bucky frown but he does not stop moving away albeit a little slower

“You lied to me”

This makes him turn around

“I didn’t lie to-”

“Later” Steve shushes him and turns to you “Right now we need to talk”

Bucky just pouts, muttering angrily about trust and weird couple blaming thier problems on innocent him, getting out of the view.

There is a minute a silence as you and Steve just stare at each other and try to decide what to say. After a while it is Steve that breaks the ice.

“Sweetheart” he sighs “you can’t do this”

“I know” you nod your head “I just- I couldn’t tell you and I had no clue what to say to you I just-”

“We need to communicate better” Steve gives you a small smile “you should be able to tell me you are having trouble sleeping because I snore so we can discuss a solution like the one Sam gave rather than you sleeping on this uncomfortable couch”

“Yeah I guess” You shake your head “it was a really stupid solution on my part wasn’t it?”

Steve chuckles at that a little “Really shocked me at first to see you just go there and sleep on that couch while Bucky and Sam had me thinking you were upto some top secret mission” or something”

“God that would have been way cooler if I really had some secret mission wouldn’t it”

“Yes way cooler because this wasn’t cool at all” Steve shakes his head moving his hand to place them on both your shoulders “I need you to know that you can no scratch that you have to tell me if something about me bothers you again rather than form a horrible solution for it”

“Hey! Don’t insult my solution forming skills-”

He ignores you and continues

“I love you and I can’t handle you not being able to tell me about things that bother you, I can’t have a relationship where you are suffering because of me”

“Oh Stevie” You whisper, feeling horrible for making him feel like this. Going on your tip toes you pull him down through his neck to give him a deep kiss “I have never felt like I am suffering because I am not, you are the best man there is and I love you. Not telling you was a mistake and I’m so sorry. I promise from now on no secrets”

He gives you a little smile at that and bends down for another kiss and then brings his hand in front of you with the pinky finger poking out “Pinky promise?”

“Pinky promise well with some exceptions you know-” you say hoking your pinky with his

He just shakes his head with a fond smile, bringing his hand to your cheek.

“You didn’t feel this bad for my feelings when you criticized my caps” He teases

“Those were money caps” you smile “made you look like a dork”

“I get cold in winters!”

“You look like a 100 year old”

“I am a hundred year hold!”

You both are laughing by the end of this exchange before he moves to get on the couch

“You go sleep on the bed” he says tapping the pillow “I will sleep here”

“No you won’t” You start to argue but he shakes his head

“I will go to the doctor tomorrow and I know you are tired, go on”

“I am used to sleeping here so no, you go in”

“I am not moving from here” he shakes his head clearly grown used to your stubborn self and moves to lie down

You cross your arms as an angry pout forms on your face. You know you were strong but not enough to push him away from the couch. But you also can’t leave him here.So you keep staring at him, tapping your foot on the ground before an idea makes home in your mind.

“Hey lets go buy those wax earplugs”

“What? At this time”

“Ya what is it 1;00 pm that is nothing in New York”

“The city is a half hour away”

“So? Its been so long since we’ve taken a road trip and I don’t think I can sleep for a while now”

He gets up from the sleeping position he was in to sit on the couch, his hands on both his sides, his head facing you

“Seriously?”

“Yes please Stevie” you say giving him a big smile “We can stop on the way at the Taco Cart”

“Well how can I say no to tacos” he smiles, standing up.

You both make your way towards the parking garage hand in hand with a promise of Tacos and of more honesty.

Tags: @kayteewritessteve​

[piratewithvigor]

Love Break My Heart: Chapter 1

Summary: A half-life relationship is disintegrating at the seams. Neither of them is good for the other, but after 14 years together, they don’t know how to be with each other anymore.

Word Count: 2109

A/N: This is a prize story written for @slashscowboyboots​ and I expect it to be about 4 chapters or so with maybe more if the chapters turn out to be much longer than this one.

I don’t know how long I’ve been standing in front of the mirror. My eyes have gone foggy from the bright lights bouncing off of every shiny surface in the bathroom and from trying to see a coherent reflection in the shattered glass. I keep meaning to go out and replace it, but every time it leaves my line of sight, I forget about it and the rage Axl was in when he punched it. All the pieces are there; just broken. It serves its purpose, just not well. It’s doing well enough that I’m able to spot the gray hairs. 

In the time I’ve stood there (God knows how long it was), I found twelve. Plucked them each out and dropped them into the sink. I’m not even thirty yet… Nowhere near old enough to be going gray from age. 

I turn the faucet just enough that a dribble of cool water begins to flow. The stream washes away the hairs and somewhere deep in my soul, I feel like I’m telling a lie. I know exactly why I’m going gray and it wouldn’t be all that much of a guess for anyone close to me either. Not a single one of us would say it out loud. I can almost taste bile at the thought of it. The wave of nausea urges me to cup my hands under the stream of water and toss it into my face. For a moment, I feel some brief sense of relief, but the moment is fleeting. 

I dab away the water with a nearby towel and the broken mirror confronts me with proof I can’t just wash away: what used to only be crinkles are now lines of age etched deep in my face.

I must have gasped when I saw them; something caused Axl to turn over in bed. He’d always been a light sleeper, for as long as I’d known him. Likely a survival instinct his mind had created for him. If he was already tossing and turning, getting back into bed would almost definitely wake him up. The last thing I wanted on a day I’d already slept as poorly as I did would be a crabby Axl. Or a bitchy one. Or an angry one. He could be moments away from waking up naturally, but if someone woke him up before he was good and ready, said poor fucker would need eyes on the back of their head for the rest of the day if they wanted to make it through alive. 

I shut off the light in the bathroom and paused in the doorway for a moment to consider my options. On the one hand, I could try to get another hour or two of sleep before I’d have to get ready to head out to the studio with Axl and risk waking him up as I got back into bed, or I could just stay up and try to get any kind of work done. Judging by Axl’s second groan and turn in the sheets, it’d be more prudent to take the second option. He may or may not be pissed at me already.

I don’t remember much about what triggered the fight between us last night. My brain had been foggy during most of it and I was riding a mild hangover when I woke up. It’s possible that might have been the beginning of the argument. Axl was no saint when it came to booze either, but he was the best about it and took it upon himself to chastise the rest of the band about their habits. 

My suspicions seem to be correct, judging by the apparent tornado that had swept through the living room at the bottom of the stairs. On second thought, ‘tornado’ didn’t do the wreck justice; it was carnage. Almost as bad as the shithole the whole band was sharing when we were first starting out. The only difference was that I know the room had been clean and proper the morning before. A real ‘Better Homes And Gardens’ situation. It looks more like a crime scene as I walk through it for damage assessment. 

Nothing seems to be damaged beyond repair at first glance, just moved or thrown. The only furniture still where I remember it was the couch, which had purposely been the heaviest one available for exactly fights like the one we must have had. Can’t throw something if you can’t lift it.

Bits and pieces of the fight started coming back to me as I step over the strewn chairs, magazines and various other shit that populated the room. I remember the remote for the TV being whipped at the back of my head and a side table being poised for an equal action, but I’d be damned if I could remember why. The only thing that makes me stop is the shattered bottle of Jack by the front door. Bottles had been thrown at each other before. Back in the day, they’d been thrown at almost anything. Perfect for subduing destructive tendencies. The difference between the wrecks I recognized and the one at the door was the lack of any splatter. There’d always be a splatter from the bit of liquid left in the bottle, but there was no sign on the door. Just a little mark in the white paint where the black ink of the label had hit. No splatter meant that Axl hadn’t taken it from me to throw. That impact was my doing. 

The pang of regret hits harder than I expect it to. I don’t remember feeling angry at Axl. Or the reason why I would want to hurt him. Axl’s rage burns fast and hot, but once he’s calm, it all goes away. I’m used to the tantrums. I’m not used to coming out of a blur and finding that I wanted to hit him with a heavy bottle that could have either knocked him out or given him need of stitches. And at the front door? He wouldn’t be there unless he was planning to leave. Make-up sex isn’t going to garner me the forgiveness I need for whatever transpired the night before. 

I start by cleaning up the glass and fixing up the room as quietly as possible. Unfortunately, it means leaving all the furniture I can’t pick up to move. How Axl can in his rages, I have no idea. Instead of looking like a crack den, I leave the room looking more like the middle of a redecoration project. The second step on my quest of forgiveness is breakfast. Neither of us are too big on it, or really food in general, but coffee and toast are still a staple of the day. 

Luckily, the kitchen seems to have been completely disconnected from the chaos. A little messy from a slipshod dinner cleanup, but nothing more heinous than any nuclear family would be facing after meatloaf night. The early morning hour keeps me from wanting to scrub and dry dishes, but I can at least leave them to soak while I prep the coffee. 

The old machine looks like it’s on its last legs, but I doubt we’d get rid of it even when it finally decides to stop. It was the one luxury we all chipped in on when we started renting the band house. We mostly stole anything more expensive than a Big Mac but security at the appliance store were on us like hawks if we dared to step into the store. We could have probably survived without food and most of our vices, but taking coffee away from a house full of drunks was just asking for murder. It wasn’t anything fancy, but it was still kicking after the horrendous overuse we put it through. A memory of when the five of us weren’t too fucked up to work together.

I exhale softly when the thought passes through. Stevie may have been a pain in our collective asses, but he was our pain in the ass. Part of the guys. And he threw it all away over a vice. If one of the five of us could leave, then who was next? 

The little light on the coffee maker begins to blink. There used to be a shrill beep that went with it, but the speaker was promptly removed when five angry drunks with five angry hangovers unanimously decided that there was no place in the house for that kind of bullshit. 

I’m pouring the first cup when quiet shuffling from behind me results in two arms around my waist.

“I didn’t wake you, did I?” I murmur, setting the pot back down. I can feel Axl shake his head between my shoulderblades. 

“I was up anyway. Thanks for making the coffee and cleaning up.” His voice is still thick with sleep, making it deep enough that I can hardly hear him. 

“Want something to eat? I was feeling toast.” He considers for a few moments and I’m almost worried he fell asleep against me. He eventually nods, still holding onto me gently.

“Butter, unless you wanna open that jam from your mom.” I turn around in his grasp and place a kiss to the top of his head. He’s feeling the same way I am- remorseful for an event neither of us remember clearly, but knowing that reparations must be made. It’s why he’s being so physically affectionate. 

“Anything for you, Fireball.” He takes my cue to sit down at our little table in the middle of the kitchen. It’s big enough for the two of us and maybe one more if we squished elbows, not really more than a card table, but perfect for two introverts who like proximity.

When he sits down, I take my opportunity for looking him over for damages. His hair is mussed, but likely from post-sex instead of a bottle hitting it, so I’m not too worried. His collarbone is spotted with little bruises, but the placement and shape lead me to believe they’re nothing more than love bites. No scrapes or cuts along his arms. He doesn’t look like he’s facing anything worse than insomnia. I can’t blame him; the new album is set to be released within the next couple of months, and his vision for it is huge. Two full albums, released on the same day, and we’ve only got one album’s worth of songs written for them. It’s brilliant, but I’m as worried as he is about completion. 

The toast pops up and is smeared with my mom’s spiced peach jam. She sends us a few jars each summer as a care package that I used to protest about, but learned to accept. Childhood comfort foods are something that only last for so long. 

I set Axl’s plate in front of him with his coffee. We both like it strong, but he somehow takes it black without anything added. As far as he knows, mine is the same. He’s still looking a little tired and distracted, but not unhappy. 

“Penny for your thoughts?” I ask, nibbling on a corner of toast.

“Just the albums. It’s the third album curse,” he explains, only now noticing his breakfast.

“Explain?”

“Any band’s third album is always the worst. They use up all the songs they’ve written on the first two and by the third, they have nothing to say. Zeppelin 3? Dressed To Kill? We’re having the same problem, but we’re doing two at once.” 

I can feel the floor shaking between us. He’s bouncing his knee like he always does when he has nervous energy. I lean across the table and take his free hand in mine. It’s softer; no calluses common to a guitarist. 

“You’re forgetting Toys In The Attic, London Calling, Electric Ladyland… The last two also being double albums. Dunno about you, but those guys turned out okay.” Axl manages a small smile. It’s hard to believe that the same face that can look so sweet and charming is the same one who tried to throw a table at me less than ten hours ago. “Ours are gonna kick so much ass.” As fast as the smile came, it descended into a scowl. 

“It would if I wasn’t the only one pulling his fucking weight.” I sighed quietly, only letting the air escape through my nose. An out-loud sigh would only bring on another fight. This wasn’t Axl’s fault, or even my fault. He simply stressed out about details more than the rest of us and was definitely more vocal about it. It wasn’t anyone’s fault...

[blue-hi]

i’ve been awake since 4:30 am and it’s 9:00 now so i need to get this out because it’s been months and i havent been able to spit the whole thing out and i need to SAY something so i think i’ll jst yell into the void so

thanks

ive had insomnia since at least mid october. cant really remember now when it started. i’d keep waking up in th emiddle of the night, always around 2 or 3 am and it would take ages to get back to sleep.

ive never been one for all nighters and i like getting a full night’s sleep and all of a sudden i wasn;t getting it and for no reason too. this scared me. it still scares me. i reached out to my mom for idk emotional support??? i didn’t want to be alone

“this happens to other people too” started out as a way to help but the way she said it sounded like she was dismissing me and what was happening. like it would all clear up soon so i had no reason to bother her

then the week before halloween almost all my classes assigned projects or had a test and they were all assigned at the same time at the end of the week and were all due at the same time on halloween. the saturday before halloween and after i got all the assignments i slept particularly awfully and i just broke down in th emiddle of the library. like all day and i couldn’t stop. that scared me even more bc if it happened once it can happen again

im terrified. that’s the core of the issue

that day my mom and aunt got me a plane ticket to fly home for the next weekend to see if being home would fix things. we even had a doctor’s appointment it didn’t fix anything. the doctor told me things i already knew but also decided i had generalized anxiety disorder and that was why i couldn;t sleep even though i wasn;t scared until after it started and i slept terribly that night again. i was hysterical. i still had no idea why i couldn’t sleep i shouldn’t have paced that loud in the hallway but yeah i wanted attention i felt alone. maybe it was selfish but i just wanted a hug and i knew then i was in for the long haul and i didn’t want to be afraid AND be alone but my mom just yelled at me (which she had the right to i was being not-great) and i felt i was burdening her. that’s when i realized she either can’t or won’t be there with me or both

i went to the counselor at my school and i just vented. not all of this but some of it and i had other problems at the time like my major and some classes but those had all worked themselves out by the end of november i also went to the health center and got a little bottle of this drug called hydroxyzine and that started helping a little bit. i was taking tylenol pm every night before that and apparently this was something stronger

then thanksgiving rolled around and i was still having some issues. one thing i remember most vividly is twin and i were going to drive to our dad’s house for the day. normally i drive but i handed the keys to twin because i hadn’t slept well and didn’t feel like driving. my mom noticed and asked why i didn’t want to drive and i SHOULD have lied and said that i wanted twin to practice but i told he truth and said i felt too tired to drive and she rolled her eyes at me later in the break one morning she asked me how i slept again and i said poorly and i was still half asleep but i swear she scoffed

then i knew i REALLY couldn;t expect her to help me. not even with the sleeping but just with support.

i went back to the school counselor (different person though) and! my mom still doesn’t know about that visit. she doesn;t know that counselor said that insomnia sometimes predates depression symptoms. should i tell her that? that’s also terrifying. i managed to get out of high school without really any mental illness issues so i;m a lucky one but that’s what i’m scared about going forward

i feel like it’s not as serious as it feels and that no i don’t have anxiety and no i don’t have depression (yet) and that i should just suck it up until i do but also i can have emotions because i;m a fucking person and ‘m allowed to tell people about them without feeling like a burden or a fake bc god forbid i have a single negative emotion in front of someone. i’ve always been a “good girl low maintenance child” and FUCK that

weirdly i started to sleep well during finals week and these past 2 weeks on break too but i think that’s because the hydroxyzine started to kick in. except oops now my supply is low and i have about a week or two left until i completely run out and the little bottle says NO REFILLS LEFT so i have to figure out how to get more for the semester last night i tried to go to bed without taking one to see if i’ve gotten any better. news flash nothing’s changed without it and now everything that had gone away in the last 3 weeks all the anxiety and hopelessness and tiredness and terror all came back last night and right now i feel like i;m back in the library again bc i can’t stop crying

what if i can’t get more before the semester starts?? if i’m like this during break what’ll happen when i have to stress again?

i came downstairs at 8 to do organic chemistry on khan academy because if i can’t sleep then i might as well do something productive. mom came down to get ready for work and she saw me and asked me if i was upset about not sleeping again

i was an idiot and said yeah - that’s what i hate too. i want to be honest about mental health with people and how i’m doing but to stop this i need to lie to her. now i’ll always be fine! and she never has to know if i;m in a bad way just as she likes it and i feel a w f u l about it. it makes be feel petty and petulant but i’m non confrontational. i want to tell her everything i;ve written here and just be so honest she has to listen to me instead of dismissing me every time but every time she asks i clam up and i failed again this morning she accused me of wanting to feel scared because “i hadn’t tried everything yet”. she and family members for christmas sent me some things that are supposed to help like a light developed by insomniacs or a winter light and i really do appreciate all of it, but they all came when the medicine was working so i didn’t NEED it. last night was different because i am a scientist and am my own guinea pig and i wanted to see what would happen if i didn’t take the drugs. i’ll use all of that tonight in Phase 2 of the Worst Experiment Ever but she wouldn’t LISTEN to me when i said that either.

now i’ll just say nothing. why should she know it’s only caused both of us stress. i wish she would take this (insomnia! depression!! mental health woo!) as seriously as she took my acne when i was 12. still now if i have a zit she feels entitled to touch my face. do you wanna know how you can help??? stay away from me and don’t wonder why i kind of want to tell her. she’s coming back home in a couple of hours bc it’s new year’s eve and i might still be in a state who knows but i’ll choke again and she’ll yell at me again and nothing will have changed

people have asked me how my semester went and “it’s been a shitty one,” i wanna say but normally i just say that i’m glad it’s over only for my parents to swoop in and say “it can’t have been all that bad i mean you did well with your grades in the end” like !! i pulled that B in physics out of my ass! just because i did ok academically because i’m lucky and good at school doesn’t mean my health was great! my dad can’t help me either because i’ll say that my mental health recently isn’t as good as it could be and he just goes “aww sweetie.” and that’s it. nothing else. thanks dad. i know you don’t know what to do with that information and i don’t fault you for that because emotions have never taken precedence in either household (except for all the curse words i learned from my mom when she’s inconvenienced)

all of this and i still don’t know why i can’t sleep normally

thanks for reading this fkn novel all of this has been on my chest for a LONG time and i haven’t had the chance to say any of it and if i get the chance i’m afraid i’ll forget something (i probably did here, too). i truly mean thank you. this has been cathartic to write, even though i still need to go to a counselor or something. i hope your new year (and decade!) is bright

[bestillmybeefyheart]

How I spent 3 weeks in 2016 as a zombie

Hi. I have mentioned that I broke my leg in March of 2016, and shared x-rays. But what I didn't talk about what the opiate withdrawal I went through after taking the medication as directed (sometimes half a pill instead). So, I was on the Hydrocodone for about 2 months after the leg break due to the pain. The meds themselves made me awake and mentally acute, I worked all night from the sofa due to insomnia and watched tv all day. I felt good but not drugged, and it was a good break from the pain for sure. But then, they stopped my prescription. They didn't taper me off, they just told me I didnt need it anymore and stopped it. I am no stranger to addiction and am in a benzo taper (and have been for a year now) so I should have asked about that. I didn't unfortunately, and I found out the hard way what happens when you take prescribed opiates for 2 months without abusing them. I became a zombie. It started with me feeling sleepy, slowly becoming more and more sleepy and just falling asleep randomly. My eyes got so heavy that I could not keep them awake and I had to do some research to figure out what was happening. Turned out, I was experiencing withdrawal. So I asked for a small amount to taper with, and was refused. I told them they could do tiny refills so I couldn't abuse it and was just trying to ween off the pills due to the sleep that was overcoming me. They told me more or less I shouldn't be addicted if I took them as directed and refused still. So I had to tough it out. I have kicked alcoholism's ass (sober 6-7 years!!!) and I am slowing kicking benzo's ass too. But this was different, it was like I had become a zombie. Not the kind who eats brains, but instead the kind of does nothing but sleep. I watched 2 movies over the course of one of the weeks with my brother. I literally cannot tell you what I saw, only that I watched them or at least tried. One day, my parents came over to work on my house and I fell asleep on the sofa and didn't notice them sawing and hammering etc for 4 hours, I slept for 8 or so. I then watched a whole 3 seasons of a tv show that I literally do not remember any of. I rewatched it recently and it was like a new show to me. That is kind of scary to me, really actually. It's a good thing I couldn't drive due to the leg or I would have probably ended up sleeping at the wheel. Of course I knew better then to drive anyway since I was asleep so much and my eyes closed if I didnt fight it and out I'd go. So, I now have Tomorrowland and Star Wars The Force Awakens to watch, again, for the first time. I'm told they are good, but I can't vouch for that because of my withdrawal. I've never abused prescription drugs, and I don't like pain medication except if its a last resort. I refuse them if offered except for the day in the ER after my broke my leg. And for good reason, they are poison. I did finally get back to normal, it took almost a month, but I got "me" back. Remember my friends, addiction can happen to anyone. You don't have to be abusing or misusing medication, you can literally be taking what was prescribed. Always look into the medications you take, learn their side effects and if they can be stopped cold turkey or need a taper. Knowledge is not just power, it also can save your life. That's my story of how I spent 3 weeks as a zombie.

[theripertoire]

My First Trimester Rollercoaster – in Raw Detail!

If pregnancy is a rollercoaster ride, the first trimester is that part where you get flipped upside-down at supersonic speed, making you feel as though you’re ready to faint, throw up or die.

When I found out I was pregnant, I was five weeks in. I had already begun to see changes in my body and was certain I was in for a whole lot of surprises. So, I made sure to keep a positive mind about whatever came next, reminding myself that my body was preparing itself to become an ideal environment for the life it’s creating.

And, I took to Google.

Though Google truly is a lifesaver on most occasions, and helped me understand my pregnancy more than anything and anyone, the horror stories you read online put Hitchcock movies to shame. It dawned on me that it’s mostly women having catastrophes, and no access to a doctor at that given time, who write about their terrible experiences. My biggest advice to any first time preggo is to absorb the useful info and turn a blind eye to all the morbid reasons explaining why you just felt a cramp in your lower abdomen at 7 PM on your 7th week and 3rd day of pregnancy.

I also listened to tons of advice and stories from my momma friends, and it made me notice that no pregnancy is exactly like the other. While one friend stayed in bed for nine months and actually lost more weight than she gained, another friend was traveling all around the world, looking and feeling fabulous, and having the pregnancy of her life. 

In my case, I was lucky enough to experience quite a peaceful first trimester, with the exception of the wretched nausea that peaked from week 7 to week 12 and didn’t leave me alone for a minute. At some point, I forgot what it felt like to feel normal or to love food. Anyway, before I get ahead of myself, here are the symptoms I read about on Google, and here is how my personal experience with each one was.

Morning sickness: Mine was more like all-day sickness. I remember how many nights I would wake up feeling queasy, and how many mornings I would dread the odor of my husband’s perfume. Foods I once loved began to make me feel sick at the mere thought of smelling them, and the scented candles around our home became my worst enemy. I remember how I felt SO good about everything, including my body, during week 5 and 6. I was so packed with energy. I was radiant. I was eating everything – well, almost. My aversion to all things meat related started before I even knew I was expecting, and it continues till today. Will I have to kiss my Wagyu, Kobe and Angus goodbye? 

It didn’t stop at meat though. After my nausea properly kicked in, the food and odor demons took over my soul and everything became horrible. I didn’t even have to eat a certain food to feel sick. My thoughts about some things made me queasy. These included but are not limited to the following: tomato paste, tomato juice, tomatoes (basically, the entire family), salmon (dead or alive), spices (any fucking spice on the planet), all perfumes, certain makeup products, deodorant, sweat (I almost died in a certain cab ride and had to stop the car to get out halfway), CHOCOLATE (I know that this was karma…), my living room (I didn’t set foot in my living room for five whole weeks), the kitchen (I didn’t touch the oven for 6 weeks), cigarettes (peasant-smelling bitch stick from hell that smells like overheated ass), grilled vegetables, mustard, mushrooms, INDONESIAN FOOD (every time I remember Bali, I want to die), Bali (even if my sister got married there, I wouldn’t go back), ramen (it’s over … for life), lettuce (we are still trying to salvage our relationship), olive oil (we’re sort of okay now. We sat down and talked … made peace), vinegar (there’s no mending this broken bond), garlic (especially when sliced and heated with olive oil … in my kitchen … by me), life. Life made me nauseous. Everything did. 

At week 12, I was sure I was ready to die. I couldn’t take it anymore. But, magically, a few days later when I hit week 13, I found myself able to kiss my husband without wanting to vomit, and I was able to take a nap in our living room … which I hadn’t seen in over a month.

But, that’s where it ends for me. I didn’t vomit – not even once – despite the horror stories I read online. Actually, I did vomit once in Bali, but I think it was because I was so disgusted by the food. I highly doubt that my nausea had anything to do with that (I think). I turned out to be one of the few blessed ones that never vomited. I kept wondering if it was a result of me being bulimic when I was much younger … or the fact that I’m a disgusting person that watches insects giving birth and eating each other while I have lunch … or the fact that at buffets, I put my steak and chocolate fudge cake in the same plate. I guess I’ll never know. I’m just thankful that the nausea is gone. I will never f***ing miss how that felt or the person it made me; a person that hates food.

Weight gain: Google and both my gynos told me I should gain anywhere from zero to two kilos during my first trimester. I gained five. Five. Zero f***s given. At week nine, I felt I was already showing. My Lebanese gyno told me it was a “keresh” (a muffin-like belly, as a result of gaining fat). My hips have never looked so big, and my arms have never been so flabby. My high-rise jeans stopped fitting at around that time too, and I was left with one pair that I had ordered online but was a size or two too big. At week 10, even those stopped fitting, so I went to Zara and bought a pair of jeans, two sizes bigger, and it’s still serving me till today. But, after meals, I find myself unbuttoning them, and because of my pregnancy brain, I forget to button them back before standing. As a result, half the restaurants in Doha think I’m some kind of a peasant or hobo. When I got married, I was 53 kilos. I gained 3 kilos when I moved to Doha. I’m now 62-63 kilos. Do the math. I am gaining weight exponentially, whether I eat or not. I’m not even eating that much more. But, I don’t really care as long baby is happy. I’ll lose the weight and tone up once I deliver. For now, I’m bidding farewell to what’s left of my ab muscles and waist. 

Decreased sex drive: I’m not sure why, but I experienced the complete opposite reaction. I had an increased sex drive in my first trimester, which decreased a little once I went into my second. I couldn’t find one woman on Google who had that same experience, and every time I tried discussing it with my gyno in Beirut or Doha, there was complete awkwardness. 

Fatigue: I’m not sure I ever really experienced the debilitating pregnancy fatigue except for like five times since I got pregnant. I’m not sure if it’s because I’m a super hyper person, or if it’s because I have been taking vitamins for a long time (this is part of my daily routine – pregnant or not). I’m definitely calmer than I was pre-pregnancy, and maybe that’s my body’s way of expressing fatigue. It should be noted that I haven’t had a single drop of coffee since I found out I had a peanut in my tummy. So yeah, kudos to that energy, Rita.

Insomnia: Now that’s right up my alley! Forget waking up to pee every 15 minutes at night, or the fact that I was practicing to only sleep on my left side, the insomnia was REAL! And it still is! There are days when I’m still able to get a full night’s sleep, without any bladder interruptions or sleep discomfort (thank you pregnancy pillow, aka husband #2, aka life), and I have noticed how it positively affects my mood, energy levels, symptoms, productivity and appetite.   

Headaches: The headaches are real. Not frequent, but real. The best remedy for me is to drink lots of water and try to get lots of sleep.

Heartburn: Ironically, I had more heartburn pre-pregnancy than I do now. I’ve had about three incidents since I conceived, but that’s also because I sleep with lots of pillows and make sure my upper half is as elevated as possible.

Cravings: I haven’t really had any yet. There was one time where I felt like getting a scoop of vanilla ice cream, wrapping it up in a fresh, crisp lettuce leaf, and devouring it. Toufic went nuts and refused to let me do it, despite my attempts to convince him that it’s no different than having labneh with lettuce. I remain eternally grateful to him for doing that. I wouldn’t have been able to respect myself after that. Speaking of respecting myself, I now eat chicken again. I had stopped for ages, in solidarity with all things birds and how they’re brutally killed. The only thing I drooled over during my first trimester was chicken, and I still drool over it till now. May God forgive me. #WholeNewLow

Food aversions: (See “Morning sickness” above)

Mood swings: YASS! It wasn’t really mood swings, but I still snap quickly and get impatient every time I’m dealing with a moron or a moronic situation. I have been crying to the weirdest shit on TV, and keep watching animal and baby videos on YouTube (they’re still very similar to me) and I cry to them. I cried on the way back from Bali because I didn’t want to be stuck on an airplane for 10 hours. I cry a lot for no reason. Mostly when I see babies and couples in love … or sushi and wine … I also cried once because my hips got so massive, I REALLY had nothing to wear for the first time in my life. I also felt very sad after my order of swimsuits arrived and nothing fit. I have a room filled with clothes that don’t fit. Size 4 US is a distant memory now. I don’t know how I ended up talking about this. This is so irrelevant, but my excuse is that I’m pregnant. 

Enlarged, tender BOOBS: Well. I’m two sizes up already, and I’m probably headed over to my third size up this week. This happened very early on – FROM THE BEGINNING – and several of my friends thought I got breast augmentation done. Many people I know found out I’m preggo because of this. I am now the proud owner of SI quality maternity boobs. And while playing with them may be fun, it’s f***ing painful. So, no.

Pelvic cramps: It took me a while to understand that not every cramp is a warning for miscarriage. I had heard so many terrifying stories that I spent the first several weeks of my pregnancy worried about every single ache and pain I felt. I’ve learned to have faith that a healthy pregnancy is resilient and will endure lots of things. An unhealthy one will not work, no matter what you do – and it’s not your fault or anyone else’s. It’s a very painful thing to even think about, so try your best to be as healthy and as stress-free as possible, focus your thoughts on the positive, best-case scenario and have faith in your body and in God. This is the best advice I can give any first-time preggo. 

Spotting: I experienced this too in my first trimester, and it was the scariest thing ever. In my case, it wasn’t really visible or that bad, but it was enough to make me worry like crazy and imagine the worst. With the right dose of progesterone supplements, a healthy lifestyle, and positive thinking, everything went smoothly. I’m so grateful to God for that. I also found out just how many of my friends as well as women online experienced this, and I wish more women spoke more openly about this because it’s a lot more common than one would think. 

Constipation: Pre-pregnancy, I enjoyed a metabolism that allowed me to visit the bathroom anywhere between 5 to 13 times a day (TMI, I know). But yes, this is the truth. My bathroom visits are now limited to 2-3 trips per day, which I guess is considered constipation in my books, but I’m so grateful I don’t have to suffer from this. However, in case you are suffering from constipation, take “Konsyl Psyllium fiber supplement”, which is very safe to use during pregnancy and was recommended to me by my gyno – you know, just in case.

Clumsiness: Thanks to the relaxin hormone, I’ve dropped so many raw eggs on the kitchen floor, broken my phone screen, broken a crystal glass, and dropped more things than I’ve carried in the past few months. I’ve learned to embrace and accept this. I’m not sure there’s much I can do about it. 

Forgetfulness: I once went to the kitchen three times to get my phone, and forgot why I was there. I once heated soup on the oven, and forgot it there till the following morning. I once had a flight to catch, and forgot it was in a few hours. I once forgot the code to my safe, a code I’ve been using on every safe for the past 12 years … I remembered it after 10 minutes of crying.

I couldn’t be happier that my first trimester is nothing but a memory, and I’m now enjoying food again. I still do have a lot of symptoms, but as I said, it’s my body’s way of reacting to all the changes – the changes brought by my baby. And that’s the only thing that counts in all of this. This beautiful soul developing inside me; eating what I’m eating, breathing from my oxygen, absorbing my hormones, and reacting to my movements. I have a responsibility towards this tiny human, and every cell in my body knows that. So, I don’t care about how many changes I have to go through or how big my hips and boobs get. My sole purpose in life right now is to keep my peanut safe, healthy and happy. Even if this means me hating cow meat and starting to look like a cow. 

What are the symptoms you experienced in your first trimester? How many kilos did you gain? Was your pregnancy an easy or a difficult one? Let me know your thoughts!

XX,

R.