#life is better on the green golf towel

[papasbaseball]

Raphael x Tav (Clubs and Spades: Chapter 1)

Pairing: Raphael x F!Tav

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Alcohol

Summary: Tav finds herself on the bad side of the President of the Fae Run Country Club. She agreed to work there as a favor, but he's determined to make her life a living hell. Will they both make it out of the summer without catching feelings?

Word Count: 2,187

Notes: I changed some of the names to help blend in the characters better with the AU setting. Here is a translation if you would like to know:

Tav - '' "Tav" Baldur

Karlach - Karlie Ackerman

Raphael - Raphael Hope

Mizora - Ms. Zora

Wyll - Will

AO3 Link

If all the stories were true, the president of the Fae Run Country Club was the Devil himself. I’d had the fortune of not running into him all summer, enjoying the close proximity to what otherwise might be considered ‘good people’, as I served drinks, folded towels, and did whatever else my manager had sent me to do. That particular day, I limped after my coworker Karlie — the cooler filled with ice and Evian between us making us as useful as a horse with a lame leg — as we brought the beverages out to the 8th hole of the golf course. The community carts had been forbidden from use, much to the dismay of my shoulder.

A quarrelsome two stood beside the green, too rich to stop their argument for us. The one’s shoulders were cast back, face tilted up as if God was also privy to the conversation he was having with the pink-faced man. I’d seen a dozen of his type infesting the green lawns of Fae Run. What set him apart was how quickly he cut down the man with words I’ll never know, courtesy of the lawnmowers. Weak arms were quickly uncrossed and the WASP wannabe buzzed back to the safety of the clubhouse hive.

“Ha!” Karlie scoffed, setting her end of the cooler down with a hard rustle of ice. “Bob had that one coming for a while.”

There were a half dozen members named Bob, but she came to know every one of them over the 8 years that she’d been working there. I’d barely met any of them and I’d been there for 2 months.

“Is Bob a problem?” I asked, setting my end of the cooler down. The ache of carrying it almost a mile thrummed in my arm, thrilled to have been released.

“I certainly wouldn’t want to be his server at dinner,” Karlie said. Her face fell and quickly she was tucking her polo back into her khaki pants, slicking back the wild fly-aways the walk had earned her.

“Ladies.” The remaining man approached us, his shirt unbuttoned past regulation to show off the tan earned from hours spent by the poolside. “Less chatting more working, yes? I would hate to have to speak to your manager about disciplinary action. I want this golf course as immaculate as possible.”

“Yes, sir,” Karlie replied.

“You’re breaking the dress code,” I offered, nodding to the undone button and soft curls of chest hair it guarded. If he wanted everything to be perfect he could start with himself.

He whipped off his sunglasses, mouth disgusted as he gave me a once over. “What is your name, girl?”

“Tav,” I said.

“I doubt that.” He hooked the glasses into his illegal shirt and turned to Karlie. “Ms. Ackerman, does Tav have somewhere to be?”

She stumbled over her words, unable to make eye contact with him.

“I know you are short-staffed,” he cut in, “but I could make much better use of her as my personal caddy for the day.”

“That’s not the job that I applied for,” I said. I had no interest in following some dumbass who only got to his position in life because his daddy foot all his bills and covered up all his mistakes. It was bad enough that I was working here — I owed my friend Will a favor — but I refused to sequester myself to such agonizing mediocrity.

“All employees of the Fae Run Country Club are required to know how to perform any duty they may be called upon at the drop of a hat,” he said. “Clearly you’ve missed training in more than one area.”

I opened my mouth to shoot back a retort when I heard Karlie’s voice tremble.

“Mr. Hope, please.”

She could have poured the chest full of ice over me and it would have been less bone-chilling than those three words. My eyes dart over him, trying to place those features to the portraits of board members that hung in the hallway leading to the main office. Maybe the sunglasses and casual attire had fooled me, but the disappointed frown was unmistakable: I was standing before the Devil.

“Tell your boss to make the necessary shifts,” he said. “I will take care of our darling Tav, here.”

Karlie tucked tail and turned back to the clubhouse. The sun baked a degree hotter with each step of hers, pushing me further into the custody of the Devil of Fae Run. The urge to run after her pressed itself, but I held it back. I couldn’t get myself fired: I still owed Will for lying for me, getting the charges dropped, and scrubbing my record. I just needed to get through this summer free and clean.

“Don’t worry, I will take good care of you,” he said. The words reeked of lies, but I tailed after him anyway. His cologne whipped back with the breeze as I followed him to the golf cart. The sweetness and warmth sent a shiver through me. It must have come from abroad, the undernotes speaking of warm sands and late-night dinners, and probably costing twice my seasonal salary.

I hesitated as I slid into the fine leather seat next to him, not any further than I had to, and watched as he turned the key.

“You really think I am going to bite you?” he said. He pressed the pedal and the cart jerked forward.

I slid further into the seat as I saw the sharp grass zipping by the floorboard more quickly than I would like it to. His chuckle at this was quiet under the whine of the cart. It was going to take more than the threat of turfburn for me to take his treatment lying down. I couldn’t refuse his orders, but I didn’t have to like it.

“You were threatening to fire me and Karlie a few minutes ago.”

“Was I?” he asked. “You’re not very good at listening, Tav.” The corners of his lips pulled back in disgust. “What is your real name? Tav sounds like something you’d call a dog. Although, you would make a pretty picture fetching my golf clubs.” He paused at the thought.

“My friends call me Tav,” I said. Mr. Hope steered the golf cart back onto the path and I almost gripped his leg to steady myself as the cart wobbled back onto its steady charge forward. I tucked my hand quickly under my black golf skort, taking comfort in the weight of my thigh.

“I’m not your friend: I’m your employer.”

“If you want to know it so bad, why don’t you just look it up when we get back to the clubhouse?” I should have bit my tongue, but Mr. Hope was not going to be calling me by my government name if I had anything to say about it.

The cart coasted to a stop, the clubhouse within sight. “If you want me to call you like a dog then you can get out and run after the cart like one.” He nodded for me to step out. “Go on, Tav.”

My legs were still twitching from the hike out to the 8th hole and I was maybe enjoying the custom fans on the cart a little too much. But between that or telling him my full name, I stepped out, cringing as the sun baked my skin once more. It didn’t take long until he was pressing the cart forward. He drove it just fast enough that I was always on his heels, no matter how hard I ran.

As my sneakers thumped the white pavement I imagined they were stomping that stupid handsome face of his. It looked all-natural – there was a small scar on his forehead and plenty of wrinkles that cut from his amber eyes – but the soft curl to his hair and all-linen outfit told the world that he could afford plastic surgery if he wanted to. He could probably afford to buy the plastic surgeon too if the rumors were true.

Mr. Hope parked the golf cart with the herd of others after what felt like a day of running. I heaved heavy breaths in and out, hands on my knees as I considered a nap on the blinding concrete.

“I’m surprised that you made it, Tav. Such a good girl.” Mockery highlighted his voice, but the words caught me off guard. I turned them over in my mind, wondering what other sweet praises the Devil liked to stab with.

“It was a piece of cake,” I lied.

He turned and headed towards the clubhouse, tossing a come-here whistle over his shoulder. I scrunched my face up, swallowing the nasty names I was already starting to come up with for him. I’d share those later with Karlie and Will.

The clubhouse wrapped its welcoming chill around us. I didn’t even mind the goosebumps on my arms, rubbing them only once as I followed him back to the foyer. He pulled out his phone and shot off a quick text before stopping a server carrying a saran-wrapped tray full of chicken salad croissants to the meeting room.

“Have you seen Ms. Zora?” he asked.

“I’m right here.”

Ms. Zora’s white polo and black skort could have gotten her mistaken for club staff if it wasn’t for the glowing pearls that encircled her swan-like neck. She was the secretary for the board and seemed to have a habit, I noticed, of showing up when you least wanted her to.

Raphael waved off the server, not even watching as she scurried away, head down muttering a prayer of thankfulness. He gestured to the walls and ceilings of the foyer.

“Where are all the banners that we ordered?” he asked.

Ms. Zora rolled her eyes, huffing a sigh of exasperation. “Supply chain issues. Don’t worry: I got us a full refund and have contacted that little print shop down the road.” She laughed, “You should have seen how grateful they were that I wanted everything ASAP and at a discount too.”

“I do not care about a discount. I want this foyer decorated now,” he said.

“I’ll give them a call,” Ms. Zora smiled. Her cunning gaze soon fell on me, her smile dropping with it. “Is there a reason why you are here Ms. Baldur?”

“Oh, so she does have a name?” Raphael laughed. “Ms. Baldur is my caddy for the day. I do have to say, I have grown quite accustomed to calling her Tav, though. It has a certain peasant charm to it.”

My clean-cut nails bit into my palms as I balled my fists up. Just get through the day, that’s it. If he used my name any more times I might have to start going by my full name just to get the stink of him off of it.

“I need to go make that call,” Ms. Zora excused herself. He didn’t watch her leave, instead smirking and staring hungrily down at me as if I were the chicken salad sandwiches.

“What are you looking at?” I asked.

“Ms. Baldur,” he said, rolling the r with a flourish. “Such a nice ring to it. Maybe I’ll call you that if you do a good enough job today. Please me and I’ll please you.”

“I-“ He knew he had turned my nickname into an annoyance. I expected him to sprout horns any minute now. “What makes you think that I want you to please me? Can’t I just do my job?”

He turned, heading back out to the golf course. A group of men had managed to gather in the few minutes we’d been inside, chattering and guzzling Bud Lights as if they were college frat boys born again in the heat of the summer.

“Raph!” one of them exclaimed. “What took you so long?”

“I was just making sure everything was ready and attending to a few stray animals.” He looked at me with that remark, before continuing, “Nothing exciting.” He popped his sunglasses back on as the cloud cover retreated. My eyes were drawn once more to the unbuttoned violation. I stared a bit too long as I found his eyes peeking out the peripheral of the shades, waiting for mine to see them. He gave a smile and I went off to his golf cart to sulk in my rosy cheeks.

They chatted and chatted until one of them finally clapped his hands together in anticipation. Beer can after empty beer can clunked into the trash can, and one by one the carts started.

“Out,” he said.

“What?” I said.

“Do you have cotton in your ears? Out. You want to be named like a dog, you’ll run like a dog.”

I got out, folding my arms as I watched him get in. “I thought we were done with all this.”

“Oh, I’m sure you are, but I’m not done with your lesson, Tav. If you keep up, I’ll drive you back after the 18th hole.” And with that, he backed the cart out and zipped off after the pack.

[onlygreens12]

Perfect Golf Gifts for Every Golfer

Golf gifts can be a challenge to choose, especially when trying to find something unique that will truly be appreciated. Whether for a seasoned pro or a weekend warrior, finding the right gift can enhance their game or simply make their experience on the course more enjoyable. Here’s a guide to some of the best golf gifts for every type of golfer.

Personalized Golf Balls

Nothing says thoughtful like a set of personalized golf balls. These can be customized with the golfer’s name, initials, or even a fun message. Personalized golf balls are not just a fun gift but also practical, helping to ensure that their balls don’t get mixed up with others on the course. They can also add a touch of flair to their game.

High-Quality Golf Gloves

A good pair of golf gloves can make a significant difference in a golfer’s performance. Look for gloves made from high-quality materials such as Cabretta leather, which offers a snug fit and excellent grip. Many brands also offer customization options for added personal touch. Golf gloves are essential for both comfort and control, making them a thoughtful and practical gift.

Golf Rangefinders

For those who take their game seriously, a golf rangefinder is an invaluable tool. These devices help golfers measure distances accurately, allowing them to make better club choices and improve their overall game. Modern rangefinders are compact, user-friendly, and often come with features like slope adjustment and built-in GPS. This gift can significantly enhance their gameplay and enjoyment on the course.

Golf Practice Aids

Help your loved one improve their swing or putting with a golf practice aid. From putting mats that mimic real greens to swing trainers that correct form, these tools are excellent for honing skills at home. Practice aids are perfect for golfers who want to fine-tune their game without having to hit the course every day.

Stylish Golf Apparel

Golf apparel is a great way to keep a golfer looking sharp while on the course. Consider gifting high-performance shirts, hats, or jackets designed specifically for golf. Look for moisture-wicking fabrics and stylish designs that provide both comfort and functionality. Many golf apparel brands also offer customization options, so you can add a personal touch.

Golf Bags and Accessories

A new golf bag or accessories can make a significant difference. Look for bags with plenty of compartments for clubs and personal items, as well as features like ergonomic straps and durable materials. Accessories like club head covers, umbrella holders, and personalized towel clips also make great additions to any golfer’s kit.

Golf Lessons

For the golfer looking to improve their skills, golf lessons with a professional instructor can be a fantastic gift. Many golf courses and training centers offer packages for individual or group lessons. This gift not only shows that you’re thoughtful but also supports their passion for the game by helping them reach their potential.

Golf Books and Magazines

For those who love to read about golf, books and magazines are perfect gifts. Choose from instructional books that provide tips and strategies or biographies of famous golfers. Subscriptions to golf magazines are also a great way to keep them updated with the latest trends and news in the golfing world.

Golf Travel Gear

If the golfer in your life loves to travel, consider getting them golf travel gear such as a travel cover for their clubs or a golf-specific suitcase. These items help ensure that their equipment stays safe and secure while traveling to different courses around the country or even internationally.

Golf-Themed Home Décor

Lastly, for a golfer who loves to show off their passion even when they’re not on the course, golf-themed home décor can be a charming gift. Think framed Unique golf gifts, sculptures, or even a golf-themed bar set. These items can add a touch of personality to their living space while celebrating their favorite sport.

[golferdynamics]

How to Clean Golf Clubs?

Maintaining clean golf clubs is crucial not just for the aesthetics but for ensuring optimal performance on the course. Over time, dirt, grass, and debris can accumulate on your clubs, affecting the grip and the ball's trajectory. Therefore, regular cleaning is vital to keep your clubs in top condition and your game at its best.

Cleaning Essentials: Tools and Preparations

Before you start, gather the necessary tools for an efficient and safe cleaning process:

Microfiber Cloth: Ideal for wiping away dirt without scratching the club’s surface.

Golf Club Cleaning Brush: Comes with soft and hard bristles for different cleaning needs.

Bucket: Needed for soaking the club heads, particularly irons and wedges.

Mild Dish Soap: A gentle cleaning agent that won’t damage the club’s finish.

Water: Essential for both soaking and rinsing.

Preparing Your Cleaning Station

Choose a suitable spot, preferably outdoors or in a well-ventilated area, to avoid indoor mess. Arrange a dry bath towel, a bucket of water mixed with dish soap, the microfiber cloth, and the golf club cleaning brush within reach.

Detailed Cleaning Process for Different Golf Clubs

Different types of golf clubs require specific cleaning methods to ensure they are not damaged during the process.

Irons & Wedges

These clubs often accumulate the most dirt due to their frequent use and contact with the ground.

Soaking: Immerse the heads in soapy water for about five minutes.

Groove Cleaning: Use the brush to remove dirt from the grooves.

Sole and Clubhead: Shift focus to the sole and overall clubhead after grooves.

Putters

Putters require a gentle touch due to their intricate design.

Avoid Soaking: Clean with a dampened microfiber cloth.

Addressing Intricacies: Clean all nooks and crannies gently.

Woods & Hybrids

These are delicate and often expensive, needing special attention.

Ditch the Bucket: Avoid submerging in water.

Gentle Cleaning: Use a damp cloth for cleaning.

Grips

Regular grip cleaning ensures a solid hand-club connection.

Wet and Scrub: Use a damp cloth with soapy water.

Rinse and Dry: Ensure they are completely dry before use.

Rust Removal and Prevention

Rust can be removed using steel wool or a mixture of vinegar and lemon juice. Always dry clubheads before storage to prevent rust.

On-Course Maintenance: Keeping Clubs Clean as You Play

Maintaining your clubs while playing can extend their life and enhance your game.

Golf Towels and Brushes: Essential for on-the-go cleaning.

Post-Shot Routine: Clean the club immediately after a shot to prevent grime from drying.

Tips for Prolonged Golf Club Maintenance

Proper Storage: Store in a controlled environment to prevent rust and warping.

Regular Inspection Routine: Check for wear, tear, and rust.

Re-gripping When Necessary: Ensures better control and swing.

Eco-friendly Golf Club Cleaning Methods

In line with sustainable practices, here are some green methods:

Natural Cleaning Agents: White vinegar, baking soda, and lemon juice are effective and eco-friendly.

Sustainable Cleaning Tools: Use biodegradable bamboo tees and organic cotton towels.

Final Thoughts

Keeping golf clubs clean enhances performance, extends their lifespan, and boosts a golfer’s confidence. With the right tools and techniques, maintaining your golf equipment can be simple, effective, and even eco-friendly. So next time you’re on the course, remember that a clean club is the key to a better game.

[grannyandgrandpascreations]

Life Is Better On The Green Golf Towel with Corner Grommet and Hook

This hunter green “Life Is Better On The Green” golf towel clips easily and attaches easily to any golf bags and makes a perfect golf gift for any Golfer!

You will be worry-free on the green while using these durable, fast-drying, absorbent golf towel. Our Golf Towels make great gifts for that Golfer in your life. Golfers use dry towels for absorbing moisture and drying objects such as their golf balls, clubs, and hands. Our Golf Towels serves as a way to remove the swear from hands and face before taking a shot, and also to wipe down the grip of the blub.

Hunter Green 100% Cotton, sheared velour terry. Dobby border hem. Corner grommet. Hook included. 16x26

Care instructions: Machine wash cold, no bleach, no softener. Do not dry clean. Do not iron. Tumble dry low.

#grannygrandpascustomcreations - #golf - #golftowel

This hunter green “Life Is Better On The Green” golf towel clips easily and attaches easily to any golf bags and makes a perfect golf gift for any Golfer!

You will be worry-free on the green while using these durable, fast-drying, absorbent golf towel.  Our Golf Towels make great gifts for that Golfer in your life. Golfers use dry towels for absorbing moisture and drying objects such as their golf balls, clubs, and hands. Our Golf Towels serves as a way to remove the swear from hands and face before taking a shot, and also to wipe down the grip of the blub.

Hunter Green 100% Cotton, sheared velour terry. Dobby border hem. Corner grommet. Hook included. 16x26

Care instructions: Machine wash cold, no bleach, no softener. Do not dry clean. Do not iron. Tumble dry low.

#grannygrandpascustomcreations - #golf - #golftowel

[hwan-g]

chapter one ( forget ) ANTHOLOGY.

‘forget everything. open the windows.’ — frank kafka.

pair. hyunjin x reader x felix | warnings. mentions of cheating, angst, heartbreak, mentions of depression, profanity, suggestive behavior, mentions of food and drinking | word count. 10.7k

synopsis. fresh out of your breakup with their best friend, the duo decide it’s time for you to get out of hibernation; so the plan begins. only problem—neither of them drive.

tags. @cb97percent, @ughbehavior, @lix-ables, @hyuneater, @hyun-bun, @j-0ne25, @hellishmoons, @danyxthirstae01, @enluc, @skz317cb97.

June 19th.

Summer shuddered outside your room, trees peeking through the pale curtains.

Wake up, will you? Enough.

You stir in your sleep, face nuzzling the pillow, brain shifting the fog away. And face another day? you groggily think. Maybe tomorrow, maybe when the sun leaves me alone.

No, it must be now— “hey, don’t turn away from me!” Huh?

Your eyes fall open, a familiar figure coming into focus. Distantly, you think you’re cold, so you try to locate the AC unit above your desk, see if it’s still on. It was off. So, a different coldness, then. Or, perhaps, the same one that’s followed you since March. The icy cloud of heartbreak and all its symptoms.

Hwang Hyunjin is standing above your bed, studying the mess of you. Half of you feels apologetic, almost. The other half wants to return to your dream, grapefruit flavored. There, it’s warm. There, there are no lurking shadows, no golf sized hail descending from the sky, no apocalypse swallowing the Earth as you know it.

There, everything just is. As it should be—as you want it to be.

He sighs, and reaches for your arm, sitting you up. You blink at him. He blinks back, raising his eyebrows. Your chest deflates, giving in.

“Alright.”

Hyunjin grins, messenger bag hitting against his hip as he moves towards your closet. “That’s my girl.”

You smile softy, fondly at his back. His hair is back to black, a midnight silky wave framing his pretty features. Fair, lovely—the dictionary bows before him, offering its infinite words. A porcelain doll that came alive as a birthday wish once, or a foreign prince that escaped a children’s fairytale book and has tried to adapt to real life ever since.

Not quite corporeal, not yet. Soon, you think. He’s not ready yet.

He holds up a floral dress for you. A dainty thing, green all over, with thin straps. You grimace, pulling the covers over your legs. Your arms are freezing, the tips of you going numb. This is how it happens—the unfortunate, the terrible.

Your heart. Your stupid heart.

“Jeans, or forget about it,” you threaten.

“I’m doing you a favor here,” he fights back, waving the piece of fabric. “I was kind enough to not mention the state of this place.”

Your eyes squint at him. “Your apartment is covered in paint.” But you knew it was a weak retort, and he’d eventually win.

He was better at this than you. You threw the towel in too fast, grew tired of wit games if they showed to be futile from the start. And you knew, most of all, that Hyunjin was, indeed, only trying to help. Him and Felix filled your inbox with daily worried remarks, most going unanswered, though that never seemed to stop them. The resilient pair, the two of them. Always together, strong in their unity.

Felix had even attempted to bake cookies for you, using his emergency key to come in your house as you remained hermetically locked in your room, your grief contained with you. He’d cleaned a bit, thrown out expired food from your fridge, and made a big bowl of bibimbap, with a note on it.

‘At least eat this, yeah? It’s made with lots and lots and lots of love. Please?’

You did eat it. Two days later, when you noticed it next to the carton of eggs. When your spoon scraped the bottom of the Tupperware, a decision had been made. That night you answered all their messages, reassuring everything would be okay. It had to, eventually. Before you lost your mind, preferably.

A breakup with Bang Chan was tough business, but you’d known all along. This man would be hard to get over—perhaps because you never expected the blow. But you cannot procrastinate the inevitable, no matter how you wish otherwise. Things happen and they stay, they are all you can see, they drown and castrate, sweep you up and down, sideways and all ways, until one day they just—don’t.

Until they seize or subside. So, it would be okay. With time. Always, endless, unmeasured time.

June was a good place to start.

Later, dread showered off, you wore that silly flower dress per request, and sat on the kitchen table eating the sesame bagel Hyunjin had brought you, and was so avidly forcing you to try, when he asked if he could do your hair.

It brought back the memory of him absentmindedly putting your hair in a braid all those years ago, before you run across scorching sand to swim in the vibrant blue of the sea. He’d sat you between his long legs, as Chan threw a frisbee back and forth with Changbin, feet dipped in seafoam.

Now, he does it consciously. Every finger finding its way through your damp locks, pulling it back in the familiar style, away from your, sticky with moisturizer, face. The bagel is nice, perfectly toasted, and the yellow light falling through the kitchen window above the sink doesn’t feel like such a punishment anymore. A dream, this seems, the world has stopped spinning. Hyunjin weaves magic through him, so much so, everything looks a shade brighter, there’s glitter on the ceiling, the flowers bloom on your mini dress.

A moving painting. The power of the artist.

“Felix is stuck in traffic,” he mumbles, tying the hairband on the end of his finished work. “You’d think the taxi driver would go through the streets. Such con men, these people…”

You smile, chewing. “He wouldn’t be, if one of you would just go get your driving license.”

He sighed behind you, patting your head mockingly. “Sweetheart, I am a painter—I can’t possibly be bothered with such a mundane thing, now, can I?”

With an eye roll, you look at the empty paper bag in front of you. “You’re the one complaining…” you trail off, sulkily.

Hyunjin ignores you. “Do you have a ribbon? I think a ribbon would look cute with this dress!” And he’s off, in his own fantastic world of ribbons, and colors, and swirls—patterns, and brush strokes, and ideas.

You wonder what it would be like to live in a world where all is animated, all vivid and quite unreal. Perhaps there, the heaviness in your heart would feel like cotton candy, melting into nothing in your mouth.

Perhaps.

You stare at the duffel bags on the pavement in bewilderment.

When did this happen?

Felix was talking with the driver, ‘It’ll only be a few minutes, thank you for waiting,’ before his face broke into a smile that would put the sun to shame, and rushed to gather you in his arms. Apparently, you were to rewrite the whole planet green, alive with summer, glistening like leaves on a wild field—

Hyunjin smirks down at you, as you look at Felix’s mint colored Converse, wondering how much more of your life went unnoticed by you, how you kept getting coaxed into these peculiar situations unbeknownst to yourself, a stranger in a body you’ve hosted all your life, suddenly forgetting your lines, or how limps moved.

What a strange realization.

“I got the tickets on my phone. The ride is two hours, and then we’ll have to get on a bus,” Felix was excitedly informing Hyunjin of your trip, never once pausing to see your surprised expression.

Hyunjin was nodding along, amused smile tugging on his lips, as he loaded the bags in the trunk of the orange car. When he shut it closed, he turned to your unmoving frame.

“Are you coming?” he asked you. As if you had a choice, when all was packed to go.

Words had left you, but you managed an incredulous “How?” to which he chuckled.

He offered his hand, and you eyed it hesitantly. Felix saw the whole encounter, and his demeanor changed immediately.

“You were supposed to tell her!”

“She’d say no.” Brown eyes pierced you knowingly, hand patient, waiting.

“Well, she’s not saying yes,” the blonde sighed. “We thought you needed a way out. So, we’re taking you away to sea,” he smiled warmly at you.

This is the second part. Lee Felix is made of star powder and pixie dust, absolutely. The garden of him continues to grow over everything, could not be put behind fences, and does not abide by any human rules. Like Hyunjin, he was dreamed up by fairies in a magical forest, where birds sing, and deer can talk. At least, that was the general impression of him. Like a spell, you lay defenseless, agreeing to every word coming out of his mango lips.

Once, for your birthday, he’d given you a friendship bracelet. He was already wearing his, the colorful beads circling around his wrist cutely, the smiley face staring at yours disapprovingly. You think that was when the magic bonded together, when the spell was cast. Yet, taking off the bracelet was out of the question, had never dawned on you.

So, you went. Took Hyunjin’s hand and followed the two of them inside the taxicab. The ride to the train station was filled with Felix’s recommendations of restaurants, and the small history lesson Hyunjin gave the both of you, what he’d heard from his parents of Sokcho, how it has existed B.C, how it started a small fishing village and has come to now be one of the most popular destinations in all of South Korea.

You and Felix listened intently, drinking every word in. When Hyunjin talked, it was water on a stream. Everything became alive, leaned closely. His voice was made of the same magic that existed in your bracelet. Secret, ancient witchcraft, the kind that bewitched the soul, run through your veins acting as your own blood.

Hyunjin was like that—a young God. His actions could only be justified as mystic, coming from an elsewhere, a place that couldn’t possibly endure in the human realm. No one could understand his ways, if they weren’t hooked directly into the heart tree that consists of him. It is why he does not have many friends—

It is the very reason he paints. If Hyunjin did not have an outlet, he’d be a terrible man. Felix knows this best.

The station was chaos. Families on vacation, sleepy children moving sheepishly across the ticket kiosks, holding their parents’ hand; people dressed in formal attire, likely off to business meetings, and thirty story buildings. But the couples—you stopped dead in your tracks, staring at the stolen glances, the intertwining of their fingers, the synchronicity of their steps. So romantic love hadn’t died after all.

You’d thought if yours and Chan’s relationship could flicker out, then no one stood a chance. Or perhaps you’d been fed a lie; you’d played the part that had been given to you a little too well, believed it a little too much. In any case, no Chan standing next to you, holding your hand, carrying your purse on his shoulder. No one at all for you. Not anymore.

Just an excited Lee Felix, followed by photographer extraordinaire Hwang Hyunjin.

Your first friend—first love. Beginning of time, Hwang Hyunjin, and everything that exists in the in between.

The platform for your destination only had a handful of people waiting, the clock reading ten minutes to spare before boarding. By that point, the day had grown unbearably warm, sweat threatening to drip from every pore, sunrays shading everyone a faint flush of red. It was nice, you thought stupidly, it felt very much like being alive, five years old, running around in the backyard of your house growing up, no care for sunburn, or anything, really. Mud on your shorts, wet hair from the water guns that had been an early birthday present the year prior, and popsicle juice leaking down your chin.

Lee Felix swinging his lemonade glass up high, big eyes shining, mischievous expression—poor, much shorter you and your big, dumb emotions spilling out of you even then, even in play, even in pretend. On the first sight of tears, the boy caved, terrified of your sobs, scared he’d get in trouble. He’d never been good at intimidating, anyway, never wanted you to think he was being for real.

What had been real—Hyunjin grabbing the plastic gun, spraying away at the strange boy that had entered their life suddenly, having moved from a place called Australia, so far from where you were. The glass spilling, the boy soaked, you laughing at the two of them, silly silly boys and their silly boy games, tears forgotten, summer raging on and on and on, forever in your memory—

Boys. Your entire life had consisted of them, of all that makes them, all that involves them. You’d been swept away, grown into the shape they’d made of you, waited for their instructions and words that could raise or break you, always them them them, and so little of you, yet if you were to deconstruct everything that was until now, you’d be left with absolutely nothing if they hadn’t been there. If the inner workings of you were to be altered.

“AC would be great right about now,” Felix commented miserably, swiping the back of his hand across his forehead.

“Dare I mention it again, in fear of being dragged—the DMV is like— thirty minutes away from your place.”

Hyunjin groans, slamming the palm of his own hand against his face. “Not this again.”

“It stands true, you are both adults—” “I don’t see you having a car, love,” Felix interjected, staring pointedly at you.

You scowled, pursing your lips. “I don’t possess the kind of wealth you two have.”

“So, if we bought you a car, would you drive us around then?” the black-haired man turned to look at you, eyes suggestive and smiling.

“No.”

Another protesting exclaim, this time mirrored.

“Oh, thank God!” The train arrived, grand and multi travelled, taking its time to come to a stop, the sudden breeze blowing the three of you back.

“Let’s go,” Felix guided you through the doors, all the way to your seats, Hyunjin trailing behind, a feather of a touch on your shoulder.

Once the conductor checked your tickets, you deflated in the tight space, checking the carry-on underneath you with the heel of your shoe. Hyunjin grinned at you, eyes turning into crescent moons, holding entire planets within them.

“Do you need to look so breathtaking all the time?” you voice your thoughts to him, almost annoyed.

He laughed a full sound, long, slender fingers hiding his mouth, rings adorning them, heavy with meaning. Felix’s identical ones glint under the summery brightness coming from the wide window next to you.

“Not something I can exactly help, sweetheart.”

You see it, then, the meeting of hands between them, the long slender fingers and the shorter chubbier ones, the crescent moons, and the sunbeam smiles. It’s absentminded, it’s nearly muscle memory for them, impossible to miss, like a thought in the back of your head that had once been on the tip of your tongue—a soulmate connection.

The silly boys had grown up to be dreamers, admirers of art, and art themselves under a certain light, in the right angle, at the proper place, and then, before you could’ve even blinked—lovers.

Sometimes. When the darkness is unbearable, when the sky is devoid of its stars. In those spaces of time, they meet halfway, souls bared, hearts beating as one. Your beautiful boys, the forest fairy tale. Who could’ve known, and yet it was so very evident. Still, they never once separated you from their magic, never alienated you from your place in the center, always the center, vital for their existence as much as they were for yours.

You must’ve drifted off after a while, staring at the action of surrender, wondering— if Bang Chan had ever loved you even half as much as you’d loved him, his hand wouldn’t have felt so heavy on yours, weighing, tugging. A cruise anchor on top of a house roof.

Or, perhaps, was it a different love? A love between a man and a woman; Atlas, and the World? Not the push and push back, the warrior and his armor, but the war and Helen of Troy.

Hyunjin’s sketchbook is propped on top of his knees, legs pulled up, pencil dancing on top of rough paper.

Felix was passed out next to him, head resting on the artist’s shoulder, belonging, impetuous. You blinked, and rubbed at your eyes, grabbing Hyunjin’s water bottle and gulping a sip of it down.

A baby was crying in the background, the moving of the train barely a whisper to you now.

“How long was I out?” you ask quietly, not wanting to disrupt the magic.

“An hour and a half,” he replies without lifting his gaze.

Fields stretched out of the window now, acres of them, all wild with color, greengreengreen, endless, shouting. You didn’t bother Hyunjin for the rest of the time on the train, letting him stew in his ideas, and faraway places, his own greens, and blues, suns and universes, the pale haired boy with him, joined, clasping.

When you reached Gangneung, it was already past noon, a few clouds making their way over the light, blue turning pastel. Hyunjin put away his drawing materials, gently shaking Felix, wiping sleep from his face, a secret passing between them in hushed voices.

Felix nodded, and looked at you, the softest smile painting his pink lips. His hair looked fluffy—you wanted to reach out and pass your fingers through it.

“To the bus we go, yeah love?”

Sleep still felt like a good idea, until you sat stranded at the bus station, waiting. And waiting.

And waiting.

“You think we’re at the right place?” you ask an amused Hyunjin, looking around at the absence of people.

“I think we are, angel,” he confirms, that annoying smirk of his growing bigger.

You sigh. “Well, then, where is this cursed bus?”

Felix chuckles next to you, crossing his arms over his lean chest. “Should I ask my magic map?”

“Perhaps. Something of yours is bound to answer one of these days.”

Hyunjin barks, laughter bubbling from the pit of his stomach, as he doubles over with it, a coughing fit following soon after. You watch in confused amazement as he recovers, pushing onyx hair out of his face, eyes animated.

“Felix, our appointed Tinker Bell! Should I shake you a little, see if I can wish a private jet?”

You snort at that, leaning back against the plexiglass. “Now you’re thinking.”

“Neither of you are funny.”

“You’re right—we’re hilarious.” You high-five with your partner in crime.

The bus does come eventually, and you board it at once, becoming random passengers in the humdrum of it all, clutching to your destination as tight as you can, delirious with purpose. You sit next to Hyunjin, while Felix becomes friendly with an old woman, offering her a dashing smile and asking if the sit adjoining her was empty.

Of course, it was. For him.

Hyunjin nudges you, chortling, hands clapping soundlessly, like a seal on mute. You smile, throwing a wink toward Felix’s way, before sitting down, and nuzzling into your friend.

“What a heartthrob.”

“Can I show you something, sweetheart?” He took his sketchbook out of the messenger bag between his legs, opening it to a coal full page.

“Hyunjin.” You looked up at him, mouth hanging. His brows rose at your tone, taking in your reaction.

It was Felix. But it was Felix reimagined as Icarus, free falling into a darkly sketched sea, waves cut sharply, menacing, the wings expanding, beautiful but melting, reduced down to candle wax facing against the scorching sun. The face was disappointed, furious in its failing, but somehow peaceful in the fall, like the fate of him and his father’s wings were dawning on him all at the same time.

It somehow managed to catch the innocence of the action, the naivety. The pride of an unsuspecting boy, and his death because of it. The shading of the features, though, the curve of the shoulders—there was adoration laced in this drawing. A knowing that run deep, deeper than you understood, and deeper still. Why would Hyunjin draw this? Was he trying to tell you something?

A boy lost, blinded by ambition. The inevitable falling. It couldn’t be a coincidence…

“Is everything okay, Hyun?” you ask, hand wrapping around his forearm, trying to meet his gaze.

He gave a small, cryptic smile, but said nothing, closing the book, and his eyes with it. Your mind went over the image of the sketch in your head, and then revisited the moment of their hands on the train. Hyunjin had been busy with his exhibition, and Felix was—well, Felix was Felix, doing whatever he pleased, his bank account loaded with zero’s. He travelled, saw the world, met people, and then met some more, always excited, always searching, curious, energetic.

That’s who he was, who he’s always been. And then a terrifying thought struck.

What if Icarus wasn’t really the pale, the bright, but instead the midnight black, the timid? The Felix that couldn’t be held back, and the Hyunjin that is paying for it.

A sinking, a sacrifice.

You stayed like that, chilled, wrapped around the fusing candle, thoughts of quicksand, and hungry Mediterranean waves enveloping you down under.

By the time you reached Sokcho and got in the cab to the Airbnb you’d be staying at, you were exhausted. The sun beating down on you in combination with all the transportation changes had you feeling nauseous, and craving sleep. In an actual bed.

“We have to try the seafood here. There’s a place by the sea.”

Felix kicked the door open, bags in each hand, checking the place out. White, spacious, smelling of bleach and something sweet, fruity. A dining table, adjacent to a small kitchen, and a living room with a decent sized TV. A staircase led to the bedrooms, while a full wall was replaced by a glass, patio door, leading outside to the small yard with the grill and chairs you passed coming inside.

It was beautiful, felt just like summer vacation. You’d only stay for one night, but as was the true twin style, the accommodations were more than satisfactory. Perhaps a bit extra if you might add.

“Don’t look at me, it was Hyunjin’s idea. He’s stayed here before, apparently.”

Hyunjin took the messenger bag he’d been carrying all day off, placing it on the long table, and rounded his arms around your shoulders, locking you into a giant back hug. You stayed like that for a while, his chin resting on the top of your head, looking out into the scenery.

You could see the beach from where you were. It looked to be walkable distance, and Felix had been nonstop talking about that damn clam soup since before you even left, so you gathered whatever energy you had, and started for the bathroom to freshen up.

Until Hyunjin shot a hand out to stop you. You looked at it, looked at him.

“Come here, will you?” This was your first love, speaking to you.

You went, and he took you in his arms again, this time his head on your shoulder, one hand rubbing circles on your back, the other holding your wrist down. Hyunjin had this ability—he could calm you down with one touch. One look. One word. In no way did you have what he had with Felix, but in your own way, you were soulmates. No one got you like he did, and vice versa.

Nothing more, nothing less. Except at times like these, when lines get blurred, when both of you are wallowing in sadness. You’d been fooled this morning, thinking all was alright with him. Seeing him now, next to the blue of the sea, he looked eternally sorrowful.

“What’s wrong with you, Hyun?” you whisper to him, wanting—needing this private time with him.

He knuckled his eye, sighing deeply. “Nothing. Everything.” And you understood. You understood.

“These rooms are huge!” Felix shouted from upstairs. You smiled without meaning to.

Hyunjin did too, but his looked different. It was that special smile reserved only for Lee Felix. “I love him, you know? But he keeps leaving. I will not keep him down.”

“Love isn’t a cage, Hyunjin.”

He leans back to stare at your face. His eyes are tired, face drained. Mask fallen. “You’re wrong, sweetheart. It is the worst kind of cage. I have the key in my hand, and I keep doing this to myself.”

You kiss him, then. A simple kiss, no meaning behind it. It was meant as a comfort, as a ‘I love you, you’re not alone in this.’ He kissed back, and it felt like you were seventeen again, falling in love with him, not knowing what it meant, what it would be.

“Come on.”

You went. You always went.

Cheongchosu Mulheo was a small restaurant, overlooking water. A little bit after lunch time, it remained crammed with people sitting in big groups around metal tables, laughing over Coke and grilled squid. The atmosphere was lively, the outside warm but not unendurable anymore, and your stomach was absolutely growling its way out of your body.

Hyunjin ordered a platter of raw fish, and noodles, enough for three people, and you all decided to drink later, somewhere more quiet, closer to the sea. Drinking at night was healing, an entirely different experience.

“Alright,” Felix turned to you after all the food arrived. His soup had vanished in minutes, and his smile was restored back to the blinding spitting image of the sun. It hurt to look at him straight.

“What would you like to do? It’s pretty early still,” his deep voice couldn’t contain the excitement, the pure delight that travelling, exploring brought him.

“We should check out the market,” Hyunjin suggested, seeing your lost expression. “Perhaps the Port?”

“Sounds great,” you reply, yet have no idea what any of these places are.

You never travel. You could count the trips you’ve taken in one hand—Seoul was a set ship, your job taking most of your time. Bang Chan hoarding the rest.

But no more of that now. No more of him. No more.

Felix leans over the table and waves his hand over your head. You look up at him. He furrows his eyebrows at you, lips in a thin smile.

“Keep the clouds away, love, no time for that.”

Hyunjin’s hand slips into yours underneath the table. You nod between the two of them, repeating the words out loud:

“No time for that.”

The market was not as crowded, many shops already closed for the day, mainly the fish stands, and some tiny restaurants. You passed a few places selling teokbokki and sliced fruit in bowls, colorful banners hanging all around you, big letters in italics and exclamation marks inviting you left and right. Hyunjin had totally bought into everything, observing, and engaging in conversation with the people.

For no reason at all, you now had a bag of potatoes, and green onions from a friendly grandma that insisted her items were of the best quality and the lowest price. There were other things too—hair accessories, and bracelets, toys, and clothes. Felix picked up a cute claw clip in blue, and pulled Hyunjin’s hair back with it, stepping back to see how it looked on him. Hyunjin modeled for it. The selling couple laughed at the silly poses and gave it to you for free. After thanking them, the three of you got a serving of squid sausage that seemed especially appetizing, after Felix exclaimed rather dramatically that he’s never tried it before.

“(Y/N) how about this dress?!” A maxi floral dress in dark blue, with a peter pan collar, three times your size.

You giggled, but put it on your body, extending your leg, looking at the boys through your eyelashes.

“Exquisite, sweetheart,” Hyunjin commented lovingly, hands still busy with the claw clip.

“Wear it for tonight! Here, I’ll wear this!” Felix snatched a leather vest from the pile of clothes, passing it through his arms. “How about it?”

You and Hyunjin nodded, slowly, marveling at the piece of fabric swallowing your friend whole. “It’s…something, for sure.”

Felix laughed, not a care in the world. “I’m buying it.”

And that was how you three left that local market, each carrying something new, ridiculous in the way happiness feels after a long episode of numb, numb, numb. A season passed amongst dull, grey buildings and customer service, sinking in self-pity, and wishing something, anything, would change, take this weight off your heart, and kickstart it, give you a small push—or a whole kick to the gut—anything if it got you moving, and out of that room.

The kick ended up being Hwang Hyunjin throwing the covers off and grabbing your hand, but it felt all the same at the end. As long as the veil lifted, the clouds dispersed.

It was a sixteen-minute walk from where you were to the Domyeong Port, and you took your time, enjoying the scenery, eating the spicy snack you’d bought with toothpicks. The sound of the waves crashing on shore, a slight breeze blowing your hair away from your face, horns of Vespa’s and pickup trucks alarming you every so often—it was getting hard to differentiate between dream and reality, the endless blue and smell of salt in the air, and the other side, the town, the reminder of people around you, their yelling and jostling. The time on your phone said a bit after six in the afternoon, and yet you swore time did not exist, was not a concept in your own little made-up world, with the boys made of magic, and your friendship bracelets.

Was the wind blowing through you or around you? Were the people all the same, backdrop to your invisible soap bubble with the rainbow edges, held together by spells and soulmate rings or were they talking to each other, individuals with their own voice and life, decisions and choices taking them from one place to the next?

Were you to finally take ahold of the wheel of your story, accept it as it is, and forget about anything that doesn’t turn the pages forward, anything that holds you back? Is it really that simple?

Looking out at sea, watching the waves—it is. It is.

Hyunjin is busy taking pictures with his gigantic, professional camera, while Felix ties his shoelaces, and you realize you’ve reached the Port. The big rocks running across the path to the fishing boats that are floating side by side, a barely visible skerry in the stretch of boundless blue that Felix points out to you.

You’re overtaken with nostalgia, memories of summer vacations when you were a child flashing through your mind, photographs in sepia, the same boats floating, the same shade of blue, the salt in your face, the wind transporting—you feel like crying. You feel like laughing. You feel like running to the lighthouse all the way on the end of the dock.

You take off, the boys yelling after you.

“Be careful, will you?” Hyunjin shouts, a smile evident in his tone.

“Why are we running?!” Felix laughing, angels rejoicing, clouds parting, skies clear.

“Why not?” you answer, your voice suspended in the air, cutting through the silence of the port.

The Lighthouse is monumental, you feel microscopic next to it, but you don’t let it faze you, instead you climb the stairs up to it, hoping for a door, hoping you can see the beacon from up close, see how far it reaches, let the luminescence of it wash over you, wrap around you and carry you over the waves, over the rock islet, past the horizon, further and further, oceans away, until you are transformed, until you too are nothing but light, helping, guiding the way.

It won’t happen, of course, not how you want, the sun is still high up in the sky, the moon barely showing its head, and the Lighthouse does not accept visitors on a Sunday, a sign with black capital letters tells you.

You’re panting by that point, breathing labored, and you double over, hands on your knees, inhaling deeply, shamelessly. The boys reach the top of the stairs a few minutes later, collapsing on the last step, lying their heads on the dirt path.

“I am never running again,” Hyunjin states, fingers clenching his heart.

“You can’t deny—it felt good—right?” More heavy breathing.

“Hyunjin—take a picture. This is beautiful!” Felix steals the camera, snapping a picture as he’s sprawled over the stairs, forehead shiny with sweat, pearly white teeth in display.

The black-haired man has his eyes closed, focusing on the sounds surrounding you.

“Do you hear it?”

“What?”

“Siberian stonechats. Listen.”

The chirps invaded your ears with a sharpness unlike anything you’ve ever experienced before. It was nowhere, and then it was everywhere, it was all around you, there were so many birds, all up in trees, flying over bushes, and then more, different kinds, over the coastline, so very alive, demanding to be heard.

“How do you know their name?” Felix asks, amazed by the clear sound.

“My dad liked birdwatching.”

The incantation breaks. Liked—past tense for a person who’s passed, who’s not here anymore. Someone who’s elsewhere, beyond. You look at the hair sprawled, the messenger bag on his hip, the arm over his eyes, and you think it hasn’t been long for him either. And yet here he is, and yet he moved on before the hole turned poisonous, before it swallowed him down under, before it trapped him in a room and locked the door.

Something protruding from the pier caught your eye. It looked like a pavilion, along the coastline, red with a traditional looking rooftop. Felix noticed it as soon as you did.

“We should go,” he told you, and you agreed.

“Help me pick the body up.”

With his help, you brough Hyunjin back on his feet, dusting him off. Wasting no time, he immediately caught both of you in headlocks, pulling you against him. Felix surrendered, but you fought back, tickling his sides as the three of you descended the stairs, making your way to the pier.

“Let’s watch the sunset there.”

“Deal.”

Yeonggeumjeong was the name of it, Hyunjin informed you. He’d gone there once, two years ago, to find inspiration for his paintings. When he went back to Seoul, he was busy for a whole month. Then, finally, around Christmas time, he had his first exhibition.

That’s where you’d seen it before. The bridge to get to the pavilion was beautiful, coming to a curve in the middle, a few couples scattered, leaning over the railings. The couples again. You didn’t know why it was so triggering to you, and this time you waved your own hands over the clouds. You were on a mission here, a mission that had been orchestrated, and you wouldn’t let your efforts, your friend’s efforts, be dissipated by the mere sight of love.

You would stop letting love scare you to a corner. You would open the windows, allow it to flow from everywhere, welcome it inside for tea, a familiar thing that had once been essential for you, for your existence. No more of this frightening, of this hesitancy to acknowledge, to face.

What was the truth—Chan hadn’t contacted you in months. Chan had ended it, because there were three people, not two. Three, so more than a couple, which meant no space. Someone had to go, and even though you weren’t the one doing the leaving, weren’t the one severing ties, doing the hard part, staying felt to you a worse punishment than death.

Staying in love. A graveyard made entirely by being the one left behind. Perhaps that was the fear itself.

Hyunjin accompanied the waving, long fingers picking the stubborn clouds one by one and flicking them off, far away from you. He smiled down at you, moons for orbs, pressing a kiss on your forehead after the hourly ceremony was over, and caught both yours and Felix’s hands, walking you over to the edge of the pavilion.

The beach stretched for miles, sand wider than a highway, people waiting to bear witness to the sunset, feel a little closer to God through the marvel of nature, and all its abilities to appear otherworldly, separate from humans.

“We should rent a car,” Felix spoke, leaning against the railing. “Teach us how to drive, love.”

You eyed him. “Where? I don’t feel like going to jail today.”

“Here,” his hand gestured at the beach. “I trust my teacher.”

The sky was a thousand colors, all blending into each other, and from the corner of your eye you caught Hyunjin taking a seat at the bench in the middle of the decorative building, legs crossed, sketchbook open on top, pencils already in motion. You let him be, figuring now is the time of the painter, the magic crenscendoing to its peak, God collaborating.

You’d take one picture, just one. To remember everything as it was right at that moment; Felix in the background, the couple, always the couple, photobombing on the far left, and you— cloudless, in the center, weightless against the wind, at peace with the unknown at least for that one singular second in time.

Then and then gone. Always.

When it finally happened—the oranges and lilacs replaced by dark hues of blue, moon white in its phantom form, Hyunjin awakening, lifting the blanket of mystical inspiration—there were no words to describe the aloofness in your chest. You didn’t feel quite corporeal, taken away by the actions of the day. Your body was tired, but your mind worked overtime, refusing to let go, to give up, and in its struggle, exhausting you beyond reason. You almost collapsed on the stoned bridge, Felix holding you up by the arm.

“Are you okay?” Voice full of worry.

“Yeah. Yes.”

“We should head back,” Hyunjin’s eyes pierced through you. “Rest for a bit.”

“I’ll call a cab.”

With Felix on the phone, walking ahead, your knees gave way, hands finding your face. Hyunjin didn’t seem surprised, instead squatting in front of you, waiting meekly, guiding people around you with a kind smile. He’s used to this, knows you better than himself sometimes.

“No time for this, yeah?”

You exhale shakily, hiding still. “I know.”

“You’re overwhelmed,” a statement, tone kept calm, steady.

“I need a drink,” you huff out a laugh, peeking through your fingers. You see his lips, the curve of them.

“Yeah,” the word drawls, his head nods. “Sweetheart, I love you, alright?” You feel his fingers around your wrist, there as a comfort, not to pull, not to reveal. “This isn’t you, and you know this. Fight it.”

“I’m tired, Hyunjin.” Finally, the eyes meet. And he understands, he sees it in himself as well. “Somedays I can’t even physically—move. I can’t fucking move.”

His fingers tighten, his handsome features softening. “Because he still matters.” You nod, cheeks wet, green ribbon swaying with the breeze. “He always will. But, angel, let me tell you this. If you do not move—you will die. I can’t let that happen. Not to you.”

It seems Hwang Hyunjin will always be pulling you to your feet, always shun the rain away. He’s better at grief than you. Better at a lot of things. Concealing, especially, but you wouldn’t dare be the first to bring it up. You let yourself cling to him, wishing it will be the last time. If you could just do it this one time, and then you’ll figure out a way to be stronger, move on from this.

The drive was a full twenty minutes back to the house, and with dusk officially covering everything with its thick layer of half-darkness, there was no reason to pretend anymore. While the two boys took turns showering, you slept, tears continuing to fall out of you, dress sticking to your body. Felix stared at your figure curled up on the couch, and threw a blanket over you, telling Hyunjin not to wake you until after they’d got ready.

“Have you talked to him at all?”

“A week ago,” the taller one replied indifferently, slipping into baggy jeans. “He’d gone to Australia.”

“He came back yesterday,” Felix informed him. “He called me because he visited my parents.”

Hyunjin nods, jaw clenching. “Good for him.”

Felix stopped him mid movement, forcing him to look into his eyes. “I know you’re angry. She didn’t deserve any of it, and he still hasn’t apologized. I know.”

Hyunjin shrinks, can’t be mad at the pale haired boy with the freckles to save his life. He kisses him, fast and rough. “I’m sorry, this has nothing to do with you.”

Felix wears the oversized leather vest, smiles at the memory from earlier today. “You still love her. I get it, Jin.”

Hyunjin freezes, hadn’t thought it was obvious to anyone but himself. He’d tried really hard to make it come across as platonic—you were his oldest friend, after all. But you were more than that, and you’d always be. The protectiveness he felt over you never seemed to go away, so eventually he gave up on resisting it. But it didn’t mean anything; he loved you, yes, with all of his heart, but he wasn’t in love with you. Felix owned him by soul. It was fucked, but it worked for him, and that’s all that mattered.

“I just never thought Bang Chan would go back on his word. He didn’t strike me the type.”

They both stopped talking about it as soon as they heard you move up the stairs. But in Hyunjin’s mind, it wasn’t over. It wouldn’t be over until that fucker was on his knees, begging for you to take him back.

God knows you won’t live without him.

Renting a car had been easy. Felix paid to have it for the entire rest of the night, and you’d gone to pick it up with the employee. You couldn’t quite believe it until you saw it—an Audi convertible, probably the nicest car in the parking lot. Tinker Bell was fucking crazy for this.

In any case, you wouldn’t complain. It felt nice to know you wouldn’t have to wait for taxi cabs anymore. You just hoped the boys would take it easy, something easier said than done. You pulled in front of the rental place, honking at the both of them standing right outside, staring at their phones.

“Get in, lovebirds.”

You’d forget. For tonight, you’d live.

Felix hopped in, while Hyunjin at least had the decency to open the door. With him in the passenger seat, you felt reassured. Everything would be okay. Putting the car in drive, you repeated that, over and over, the night air feeling good against your face. Streetlights glinting, you sped through the roads, going for the beach.

Hyunjin put a slow song on, a jazzy guitar playing as the soundtrack to this dreamlike vacation to Sokcho. You had to pinch yourself at a red light, just to feel real again. Felix was singing along to the lyrics, while the black-haired boy secured his locks up and away from his face with the blue clip from the market.

“Who wants to try first?” You asked once you pulled to the docks, slowing down for the rest of the way to the sandy ground.

“I think you know the answer to that,” Hyunjin tilted his head towards the beam of sunshine in the back.

Felix all but squealed. “Aw, me, really? You didn’t have to—but okay!”

You shake your head, laughing at the way he climbs to the front seat as you move to the back. “Alright, it’s fairly easy. This is an automatic, so you only have to worry about driving and reversing. Parking is the P all the way to the top, yup, that’s the one. Gently press on the brake, while you put the car back to D. Yes, and then just very lightly press on the gas—FELIX!”

You were gone. You knew you shouldn’t have trusted him, that boy run on a sugar rush at all times. You tried to guide him, tell him to slow down, but he was too busy having the time of his life, drifting, and doing donuts in the flat sand, tornadoes of dust swirling all around you. Hyunjin held on for dear life but was laughing the hardest out of the three of you.

“Fucking hell, Lix, you’re a natural!”

“I fucking told you!”

You drove all the way to the Lighthouse and back, the landmark stealing your breath at night, the light you’d wished to become part of now shining bright under the myriad of stars, winking down at you.

You let go, then, head falling back, as you held onto your seat belt; tiny you in the universe, in a car with two boys you absolutely adored, possibly about to die—but it all felt like blue fire. It couldn’t possibly burn you—injure you, maybe, but you felt invisible, then. Untouchable. The sound of your screams made your heart swell in ways it hasn’t for the longest time.

You welcomed it. You let go. As simple as that.

“Let’s go drink!” Felix suggested, coming to a sudden stop. You almost hit your head on the back of his seat, but even then, you were too drunk on adrenaline to even register the danger of it all.

“Love of my fucking life, Lee Felix,” Hyunjin declared, bringing the freckled boy in for a kiss.

The smile on your face stretched so wide your cheeks hurt for the entire ride to the restaurant. Being back on the wheel brought you back down to Earth, your sanity soothed. It was only a five-minute ride, the place being on the other end of the beach, the only restaurant directly next to the sea. Tables placed on top of the sand, with an orange tent to cut the course of the wind, you were glad Hyunjin had suggested it.

“Finally, my clam soup,” Felix was jittery from the car ride still, his knee bouncing against the plastic table, shaking the utensils that had been laid out for you.

“Soju or meokgolli?” Hyunjin asked you two, smiling politely at the old lady that came for your order.

“Soju with beer,” you suggest, and his eyes lit up.

“You’re talking my language, sweetheart,” he slid his arm across the table, to you. You took his hand, playing with the ring on his index. “Two bottles please, and we’d also like…”

Waiting for everything, you watched as Felix documented everything; the dark sea, the tent, zooming in to catch the name of the small restaurant. And then again, when the drinks and appetizers came, he took pictures of those too, turning the phone around to snap a selfie of the three of you. You waved your chopsticks to it, in the middle of chewing. Hyunjin made a peace sign, his smile that of a sleepy cat.

“Oh my God,” you pointed at the sweet potato. “Try this!”

You hadn’t realized how much you were starving. You didn’t even touch your drinks, too focused on wiping the plates clean. When the main dishes came—buckwheat noodles with squid, the much-awaited clam soup, and Red Snow crab— you wasted no time to devour it all, the sound of waves crushing on shore accompanying your every bite.

 “This night calls for a toast, don’t you think?” Hyunjin raised his glass. “To us, being together in this very moment.”

“I’ll drink to that,” Felix approved. “To us!”

“To us,” you joined in, smiling affectionately at them.

The cicadas felt like part of you, their noise incessant, the night warm. You’d easily went through the two bottles, ordering more, Hyunjin teaching you how to shake soju, and mix it in the beer. It was funny—he wasn’t usually the drinking type, his limit preventing him from getting drunk. And yet it felt like tonight would be an exception because tonight wasn’t real—you refused to believe, even after everything you’ve done to ensure you’re not hallucinating. After all, you couldn’t possibly have nice things like this—you didn’t feel deserving enough.

Alcohol made you emotional. Perhaps you should’ve thought twice about downing so much of it so quick. But with these people, two of your childhood friends—you felt the most comfortable you’ve felt since the breakup. You can’t even remember the reason you kept them at a distance for so long. Sadness should be shared, to lessen the burden.

“…so, I told Seungmin he shouldn’t move in with him if he doesn’t like cats this much,” Hyunjin was telling the story of doomed roommates. Felix was snorting beer through his nostrils. “But you know him and his ‘It will all work out,’ so I dropped it because he’s stubborn as fuck, but now apparently, he has a cat allergy! My guy.”

“No!” your mouth falls open. “Shouldn’t he move out then?”

Felix is slamming his hand on the table, wheezing. “That’s such a Kim Seungmin predicament.”

Hyunjin widens his eyes in emphasis and crosses his legs. “Right?! But no, he says the rent is too ideal to give up on the apartment. Plus, having a roommate is convenient.”

“Oh, well then. Serves him right. I remember when I was roommates with Chan. He kept everything so neat and tidy, I was actually so scared of making a mess.”

And then the realization of what he said. Of whom he mentioned. Felix’s mouth snapping shut, gaze apologetic, Hyunjin scowling at him. Your smile froze but did not disappear. You wanted to tell him it was okay, this much was okay, but you’d be lying straight to his face.

Lying to someone you love—it didn’t feel right. Not to you. To other people it came as easy as breathing. You caught the petty, bitter turn your thoughts were taking, and finished your drink at once, forking some squid.

“It’s been three months,” you comment, but it sounds wrong, and they both catch the dejected tone, so you curl into yourself, and then you’re biting your lip.

Before you know it, the tears come again.

“Is he even okay? I haven’t—he hasn’t called me once. I was his friend, too.”

Felix fills up your glass, and Hyunjin hands you napkins, getting up to come sit next to you, rubbing soothing circles on your back. You haven’t cried in front of them about this once, and yet today you can’t stop doing it. Was this why you barely met with them in the months following the Heartbreak? Because you felt embarrassed?

“He’s fine,” the blonde-haired boy assures you. “But fuck him, love. You’re not.”

Everything looked a blur through your wet eyes. You wiped them in hopes they’d stop, but they just—kept—coming. You didn’t want any pity, you fucking hated feeling sorry for yourself, and yet how else were you supposed to feel? If it wasn’t for that, you’d feel nothing. Somehow that’s even more horrifying than sympathy.

“Drink, will you? I said fuck him. He messes with you; he messes with all of us. She wasn’t even fucking worth it—they never even got together.”

“I thought we’d never break up. I’ve known him for so long…he was all I’d known. Felix, how can you do this to someone and not even care?”

“He does care,” Hyunjin speaks this time. “I swear to you, he does. But caring is not enough, angel. Not always.”

You drink to that. You stay like that for a while, quiet, each with your own thoughts, observing the invisible waves, trying to make them out through the shadowiness, until Felix breaks the silence, suggests a game.

“How about twenty questions? Adult edition?” He wiggles his eyebrows, a rainbow after a nasty thunderstorm.

You crack a smile, and Hyunjin exhales deeply in his seat, thinking there’s still hope for you tonight.

“Adult as in sexual experiences or adult as in bottomless fucking pit of despair?” he questions.

“Both. I need therapy.”

“Me, too, baby.”

“Me three,” you reply as well. You all look at each other—and laugh.

It starts drizzling.

“Fuck,” Hyunjin rubs his face raw, stretching his long arms upwards. “We’re too young to be this fucked up.”

“Fucking tell me about it,” you finish another drink, dabbing the napkin in your hand on the edges of your eyes. “I’ll go first. Felix—what’s your favorite memory with us?”

Felix ponders over it for a short minute. “Graduation day. The party Changbin threw for us,” he looks at Hyunjin. The older boy nods, remembering. “You guys were still together, and I remember officiating your fake wedding in the backyard, drunk out of my mind.”

“Oh, yeah,” Hyunjin smiles. “Remember the ring pop?” he asks you.

“I do. I kept the wrapper.”

“If you can’t beat them, join then,” the freckled boy mused, twirling the contents of his glass.

“He was so in love with you,” you tell your fake husband. “The hoodie you’d left at my house after the senior field trip? He wore it every time he came over. It smelled nothing like you by that point, but—you still have it, don’t you?”

Felix nods, a blush creeping up his neck. “I love you for never freaking out on me about it.”

You giggle, feeling loose. “Why would I? You guys are made for each other.”

Hyunjin takes a straight shot of soju at that, wiping his mouth after. His face is somber, eyes dark. You change the subject, knowing the reason for his demeanor.

“My turn,” Felix grins devilishly. “Jin—have you ever painted (Y/N) naked?”

You choke on sweet potato, and Hyunjin hits your back, endeared by the question.

“Huh…have I?” he pretends to think, though you already know the answer. “Was it for your birthday? Should I continue?” he turns to his other half.

“Be my guest. I did ask.”

“Can I tell, sweetheart? We’re all mature here, aren’t we?” his hand is on your thigh, and it reminds you of the times before.

“Of course. It’s only Felix.”

“I fucked you on top of the dryer and filled your hair with flowers from the bouquet I got you. Then you sat naked for me for two hours until I was done with the outline of your body and let me fuck you again after I was finished.”

“Fuck me,” Felix rasped, his voice considerably deeper, imagining the scene.

You blushed. “It sounds way more brass than it really was.”

“No, it doesn’t. I say this in the most respectful way—no girl will ever do it for me like you did.”

You squirm in your seat. “That was years ago, Hyunjin,” you try to reason.

He nods, seeing your point, and fixes himself another glass of beer. “And yet I’m sitting next to you, even when the boy I love is right here.”

Felix says nothing but drinks a lot. You can’t tell if this excites him or is making him jealous.

“Hyunjin.”

“(Y/N).”

“Stop it,” you demand, your defenses weak. “You’re being mean.”

He cocks an eyebrow at you, swallowing the cold alcohol. “Mean? He knows.”

“It’s true.” You turn to the blonde’s indecipherable tone. “He’d never hurt me like that.”

You sit back in your chair, sensing an entirely different game has started now. “We’re going to need more alcohol for this.”

Hyunjin smirks at you and calls for the lady.

“Let me ask you, sweetheart—does Bang Chan fuck better than I do?”

“What are you playing at?”

“It’s a simple question.” His eyes are burning holes through you.

This could set you off—take you places you haven’t even dared go to in months. The way Chris fucked…sometimes it was fucking, but most of the time…most of the time you made love. You’re sure Hyunjin knows the difference, but since he’s never done that with you, since the love has never run as deep, has never taken such an ugly turn, he knows nothing of what he speaks. Chan touched your very soul every time he was inside of you, just thinking about it could destroy everything you’ve build against him, to keep him out, to keep you sane—

“You’re not pitting yourself against him. Next question.”

“He’s no competition for me, I’m not fighting for your heart, angel—but neither is he, yeah?”

That shouldn’t have hurt. But it fucking did.

“Jin,” Felix warned.

“No, she needs this,” he snapped at him. “Tell me.”

“You’re different,” you give in, tears brimming. “Would you say me and Felix are the same? We’re not.”

“What’s the difference?” he asks you, curious. Already knowing.

“Besides the obvious?” Felix mutters to himself.

“He’s of your soul, as Chan is of mine,” you admit to yourself.

Hyunjin seems content with your answer. “And yet you doubt his return? You think he’ll never come back.”

“He doesn’t know,” you say stubbornly. “Why would he leave otherwise?”

“Oh,” Felix inhales sharply. You look at him. “Love…have you ever thought you might terrify him?”

Hyunjin points his finger at the blonde. “You think a love like ours is a walk in the park, sweetheart? Sometimes I feel like splitting myself open.”

“Like shooting myself in the leg,” Felix continues.

“But we’ve known each other since before we knew what a boner was,” the boy sitting next to you explains. “Chan barely just found you…in the grand scheme of time, two years is nothing at all.”

It felt like an excuse. And yet you knew these boys were not on his side—they weren’t on anyone’s side, they just said things as they were. And this might just be the truth you needed all along. But for the empty space he’s left, you need to move on for the very sake of your heart; so, life expands from the small room with the door—so the windows open and stay open.

You were lost again. Point zero.

“What do I do with this information?” you ask, pleading.

Hyunjin feeds you, placing a hand under the fork. You accept the food, chewing slowly.

“You wait. You sit with us.”

“And you drink,” Felix adds with a wink.

A little past midnight, the drizzling turns into full on rain as you leave the restaurant. Your car is parked on the other side of the street, but the alcohol in your system makes you feel miles away from it. And you’re the most sober of the three of you.

The old lady offers to call a taxi for you, but Hyunjin politely refuses, holding Felix upwards. He blows her a kiss, bowing deeply. She shakes her head, but the smile on her face betrays her. No one can resist Hwang Hyunjin—his charm is undeniably irresistible.

“Get in!” you usher them, laughing, pressing the button to close the roof of the car. It takes them a while and a lot of stumbling, but they make it in the drenched backseat, where the dark-haired boy lays Mr. Sunshine on his side, and then proceeds to plop in the seat next to you, climbing his way to the front. Drunk logic, you think, but you can’t even personally find the hole to insert the key.

You sit staring at the steering wheel, praying to somehow sober up, even a little, so you don’t crash and die. This car will be a lot of money. But then again—these two idiots have that. Money. A lot of that.

“Hey, (Y/N), question for you—what do you think about me?” Felix slurs.

Cute, you faintly think. “Forest pixie,” you say out loud.

“Oh. Is that so? At least I upgraded from Tinker Bell.”

“Ha, no, you didn’t. You’re still mine,” Hyunjin says, and hiccups.

“That I am,” Felix giggles.

“What about me? What do you think about me, sweetheart?”

That hand on your thigh, again. The rain hitting against the windshield is making you sleepy. You start the car before it’s too late. Hyunjin plays music—this time it’s lo-fi.

“The whole fucking forest, Hwang Hyunjin,” you admit as you pull out of the parking spot. “All of it.”

He puts the hazard lights on, and you drive at twenty miles per hour, everything turning watercolor outside. You’re very aware of the fingers tapping your skin over the thin fabric of your dress, very aware of the alcohol running through your bloodstream—you think you might do something stupid.

You grip the wheel with both hands, force yourself to focus on the road. There’s barely anyone around at this hour, not in this side of town. The sound of your blinkers fills the entire car, Felix’s soft snores blending with the droplets on your windshield. Magic hour.

The time to swallow your heart and cover your ears. Anything alive will touch back now. Be careful.

“Should I stop now?” the only boy awake spoke. “Pretending? Should I stop?”

You take the turn, drive the straight line that comes, wish for the car to turn into a boat, the rain into river, so you can float, away away away—

“He’s leaving, isn’t he?” The truth. The only truth.

There are no words to follow it. Nothing he can say. So, he cries. He could drown you all if he wanted to, so big his sadness—the sadness shared, the sadness burdened into two—you cannot unsee it once you know. Do not dare.

And where to put it? Where to put it?

“Don’t you think you should address it at some point?”

“And risk him hating me forever? I’d rather burn myself alive.”

You put your signal on. Stop at the side of the road. You cannot stand his tears, cannot stand his despair. You get out. The rain seeps through your clothes, drips from your hair, and you run. Towards the sand, towards the waves that feel like the night sky in motion, and then you halt, sniffling, wiping your face.

Perhaps you’ve gone crazy. Perhaps you’re only drunk. No matter. No matter at all.

“You’ll catch a cold, angel.”

You’re shivering, and he’s right, but you don’t care. You thought lying to yourself wasn’t an option. For him to do this, it was hypocrisy—it was treachery.

“You’re ignoring your own heart and it will betray you, you’ll see. What good will it do if you wait one more day? One more month? You cannot prevent the inevitable, Hyunjin—I tried, okay? It doesn’t work.”

You don’t look at him. He doesn’t look at you, either. These words are too personal, cut through the magic into reality, somewhere the both of you cannot bare return to.

“I don’t know how to live without him.”

“Well, what are you going to do? Die? Because if so, let me go first, Hyunjin. I’ve been suffering longer than you have.”

His body slams on yours, knocking the very breath out of you. It’s a desperate attempt for closeness, but you get it. He needs this, needs a hug, a fucking hug, and you know what? You need it, too, as plain as it sounds. To know you’re not alone. To know it will be okay.

Your stomach is turning, twisting, and flipping on itself, uncomfortable with all the misery—so you spill out. You cannot forget, but you can cry, so you do.

You cry together, embracing in your shared wretchedness. His arms envelop you whole, take you down. Together you lay in the wet sand— a problem for later.

Sokcho is beautiful in all of its water. All it did today was wash away, clean, reveal.

You cannot forget, but you don’t think you have to. Not anymore.

[maddiwrites]

Secrets of the Shore (Chapter 1)

Pairing: Pogues x reader, eventually JJ x reader.

Summary: This is just my rewrite of the show Outer Banks with my own twist by adding another main character which also happens to be John B’s twin sister. 

Note: Hey guys! Thank you so much for the support of my last couple of fics. All your messages have been so kind and so sweet! I’ve made a rewrite of the show with a new character that eventually falls in love with her best friend. I’m gonna be posting a new chapter three times a week. Let me know what you guys think!

Word Count: 4.3k

Warnings: None

Chapter 2 

"That's what, a three-story fall to the deck?" John B tip toes across the middle of the roof as he sips out of the can of beer in his hand.

I lean to my right, pressing against JJ's shoulder as we sit on a construction slack used to hold construction workers as they work on the siding of the home. Scaffolding, I think it's called. I narrow my eyes at my brother, counting down the seconds until he falls.

"I give you about a one-in-three chance of survival," Pope jokes from the deck below us.

John B shrugs. He licks his finger and holds it up in the air as if he's feeling which way the wind is blowing. "Hm. Should I do it?"

"Yeah, jump." Pope holds up a power drill and points it at John B like it's a gun. "I'll shoot you on the way down."

"You'll shoot me?"

"Yep." Pope closes one eye and pretends to shoot it. "Pow!"

I roll my eyes and look forward again, letting the beer slip down my throat like a refreshing glass of water. The warm North Carolina air presses soothingly against my freshly tan skin and I bask in the sunlight. Its days like these that I like the most. Days where none of my best friends have work, we're drinking causally, and joking with one another. Even if it's on a construction site in the middle of Figure Eight. But the idea of getting caught just gives me an adrenaline rush.

"They're gonna have Japanese toilets with towel warmers," Kie says as she walks out of the unfinished house.

"Of course. Why wouldn't they?" JJ says next to me with a shrug like it's not the craziest thing that a Kook would own.

"This used to be a turtle habitat, but who cares about the turtles, I guess."

"I can't have cold towels."

Kie looks up at John B, shielding her eyes with the back of her hand. "Can you please not kill yourself?"

"Don't spill the beer. I'm not giving you another one," JJ says.

As if on cue, John B's foot slips. Luckily he catches himself, but his beer, however, drops to it's death on the deck below. As John B steadies himself I release the breath I didn't even know I was holding. I take another greedy gulp of my warm beer to steady the nerves in my chest.

"Whoa! Oh, shit," John B curses.

"Of course you did," JJ rolls his eyes playfully. "Smooth."

"A plus, really." I glare up at my brother, feeling his mischievous smirk right back at me.

"Dumbass," Kie mutters under her breath. She looks up at me as if waiting for me to say something, but I only giggle to myself. John B can be clumsy but he's not going to accidentally kill himself.

"Hey!" I hear another voice shout behind us towards the street and front of the house. A voice that doesn't belong to any of my friends or my brother.

"Hey, uh, security's here," Pope says.

Immediately knowing what that means, I jump to my feet with the help of JJ right after he slugs the rest of his beer. A delirious grin dances along my lips as I hop down to the main deck.

"Let's wrap it up!"

"Boys are early today."

"Humpty Dumpty, let's roll!"

My legs take off after my friends through the house. Adrenaline rushes through my veins and straight to my head like a power high. I can't even feel my legs as they jump over wooden slacks and construction tools. The high from running from the police is better than any drug JJ can get his hands on, even the good stuff.

"Gary is that you?" JJ plays along before accidentally running into him, making him slip on his feet before running the other way. I grab his wrist and pull him closer to me to catch up. "Gary, good to see you man!"

I laugh as my feet land on the freshly cut grass in the front yard. "You're asking for it."

"JJ!" The obese cop chases after us, recognizing my best friend's face instantly. I'm not surprised, not even a little bit. JJ had his fair share of run-ins with the law.

"They're going out front!" I hear another cop shout. I can barley hear through the wind rushing through my ears.

We run into a tall white painted fence that blocks us from our car, better known as the Twinkie. Hopping fences is something I've learned to become better at after doing it so many times. However, I can't say the same about Pope. He's always struggled.

I swing my legs over the fence and land with a small 'oomf.' I look over my shoulder for my slow-poke friend and see him falling over the fence, landing on his side. I laugh as I pick him up by the shoulders.

JJ is waiting for us, clapping his hands like a coach on the sidelines at a football game because his players aren't running fast enough. But there's a smile on his face. "Get up, Pope, fatso's coming!"

"Hey!" The guard shouts behind me. He's halfway up the other side of the fence, but he doesn't have the strength to pull himself over completely. "Come here you little pricks!"

I hear the familiar honk coming from the van John B and I learned to drive in. My brother and Kie are waiting for us in the front seats of the Volkswagen van that would look better in the 70s than the 2020's but I love it. It fits our friend group perfectly. Plus I'd choose this car over any fancy Mercedes Tourons usually drive. The only time I've ever been in one of them is when I snuck off with a golf player from Georgia after a boneyard party. It was luxurious of course, but nothing like the Twinkie.

"Bus is leaving!" John B says as we get closer.

"Come on!" Kie yells at us from the passenger seat, banging the flat of her palm against the door.

I dive through the back first, landing on my elbows and rolling over. Pope and JJ follow less than a second later.

"Hey, hey, hey!" Gary calls after us as John B steps on the gas.

JJ leans out of the sliding side door that's still wide open. I lay on my back watching him as I try to catch my breath. His smile is contagious. For a boy who's been through hell and back, he smiles a lot, and I love every second of it.

He holds out his beer can as if he's offering it to the cop who's still trying to catch us...if he can catch up to it. "Check out Gary, gunnin' for a raise. Come on, Gary!"

"Wait. Slow down. Hey! You little pricks! Hey!"

"You're gonna give him a heart attack!" Kie tries to scold him but she can't fight the smile on her lips either as she watches from the side rearview mirror.

"You're so close! You can do it. There you go. They don't pay you enough bro."

"JJ, stop. Stop!" Kie says through her laughter.

I love Kie. She always tries to keep the peace between her friends and the world itself. Always the girl who raises money for charities that protect this Earth and save animals and solve world hunger. She's going to change the world someday. Her and Pope. Maybe if they can tolerate each other, they'll do it side by side.

JJ slumps back into the van with a toothy grin. He sits next to me and pulls me up so I'm sitting up straight. He dangles his arm around my shoulder and I lean further into his side. If I could choose one position to be in for the rest of my life it would be this one.

But I'd never admit that.

"Oh, come on. That sort of initiative is just begging to be punished," JJ says.

I hum in response and lean back into the seat behind me and stare out the window. A view of passing vibrant green leaves takes over the window as John B drives. The scene comforts me. Summer is my favorite season. No school. Just work and friends and the Outer Banks. Paradise on Earth, some may call it.

It's the sort of place where you either have two jobs or two houses. Two tribes, one island. We're currently driving through Figure Eight, the rich side of the island. Home of the Kooks. So, guess where we don't live.

As John B drives further South, the houses get smaller and smaller, feeling more like home. This is the South side. Or as we like to call it, the Cut. Home of the working class who make a living bussing tables, washing yachts, running charters. The natural habitat of...drumroll, please...the Pogues. That's us. Pogues, pogies, the throwaway fish. Lowest members of the food chain.

I know... a little harsh, don't you think?

So, the downside of the Pogue life is we're ignored and neglected. But the upside of the Pogue life? We're ignored and neglected, which means we do whatever we want, whenever we want.

The second John B parks the car, the boys are gathering all their fishing gear and we set off to our next destination. The marina.

"Nice haul, dude. Look at that!" JJ teases my brother when he reels in what I think is the smallest fish I've ever seen. If it was orange, I would have thought it was my old pet goldfish from when I was six. "Been all bait for, like, three weeks."

John B pulls the fish off his hook and tosses it in JJ's direction. JJ flinches back, knocking into me and almost throwing me into the water below. That was probably my fault, though. I shouldn't be sitting on an open ledge, dangling my legs twenty feet above the water.

"Watch it, idiot!" I smack JJ upside the head after letting go of the death grip I had on his bicep when I was about to fall to my death. Well...I'd probably survive, but it would hurt like hell.

"It's not my fault you chose the most dangerous seat!" JJ retaliates.

Yeah, that's JJ. John B's best friend since the third grade, which subsequently makes him my best friend since the third grade too. He's about as local as they come. Latest in a long line of fishing, drinking, smuggling, vendetta-holding salt-lifers who made their living off the water. Second best surfer I know. First being me of course. Mild kleptomaniac and a future tax cheat.

"Yeah, Mar, you should really get down from there," Kie says, walking over to me to help me down. I decide not to put up a fight. If I'm going to break my leg, I'm gonna do it in a surfing accident or something cool, not by falling off the dock.

Kiara. Or Kie as we call her. When not saving turtles or listening to Bob Marley, or getting a dolphin tattoo, she hangs out with us. I'm not really sure why though. She's a rich kid, actually. Her family owns the Wreck, this Outer Banks institution. Total cash down with the tourists and my current job. You know, I'm not really sure how her parents feel about us. But they like me enough to bring them money towards their restaurant. I bring in a lot of regulars. Advertising is kind of my thing. I'm pretty sure all my friends, even my brother, have a thing for her.

Kie hands me a water bottle and lays her legs across my lap. She lies down on the wooden bench and bathes in the sunlight the day still has to offer. Kie is my best friend. Best secret holder known to man, for the most part.

"I think she needs a leash," Pope adds, making me pass him a glare.

"The only thing useful about a leash is how I can strangle you with it," I say.

"Kinky," JJ says and winks at me. "That's my girl."

John B slaps JJ upside the back of his head.

I'm lucky my sunburnt skin is hiding the blush that creeps along my cheeks.

Pope glares at both JJ and I which only makes my growing smirk widen.

Pope...the brains of the operation...finalist for the Lucas T. Vanderhorst Merit Scholarship. And the smartest person I know. Little bit of a weirdo. His father's this legendary character, Heyward. Anything you wanted on the island, Heyward could get for you. Now, I'm not sure Heyward knew what to make of his oddball son, but it didn't matter. He was a Pogue, just like the rest of us.

"Trust me, if a leash was that easy, I would have tried a long time ago," John B mutters with a hint of a smile.

John Booker Routledge. My insufferable twin brother. Pain in my ass. Number one partner in crime. I hate him but I love him. Pretty much like any sibling relationship. We live in an old fish shack on the marsh. The Chateau as my dad use to call it. My dad disappeared at sea nine months ago looking for a shipwreck. I mean seriously, who disappears at sea these days? I miss him a lot. He may have been a little neglectful, but he took care of us the best that he could. My mom, however? She split when I was three. Last I heard she was in Colorado. At least I think it was Colorado. Honestly who knows and who cares.

Since my dad vanished, my Uncle T is supposedly my legal guardian. At the moment, he's in Mississippi, building houses which means it's just me right now, on my own, hangin' out with my brother and my friends.

Three months after my dad went missing, he was officially presumed dead. John B is more of an optimist than I am. He refuses to sign the paper and until he sees a dead body, he's not giving up. I back John B's decision, but I'm more realistic about what happened to my dad. The ocean, although my favorite place to be, is also one of the scariest.

My dad is probably dead and I will never get the closure that I want. So I'm dealing with it the best way I can, although I'm pretty sure everyone is a little worried about me, especially Kie now that John B is starting to follow in my footsteps by exhibiting reckless behavior.

But I'm getting better now. Day by Day. At least I wasn't acting like I did when my dad first left us.

                                                     ~ ~ ~

I woke up with a slap to my ankle and my head buried deep into my pillow. I groan from the abrupt living alarm clock that's now pacing my room and throwing clothes from my closet at me. It only makes me squeeze my eyes tighter in hopes for at least five more minutes of sleep.

"Seriously, Mar, we need to go. We're late." John B rips my blanket off my body, leaving me exposed in just my pajama boxer shorts and a tank top. The sudden chill sends goosebumps up my arms and legs.

"Go without me." I push myself up on my elbows and grab the clothes he threw at me. I knew meeting the social worker alone wasn't an option. Even if one of us goes to this stupid meeting, it will prove to the social worker that we're not being responsible enough to keep DCS off our backs. As far as they know, Uncle T is still living with us and keeping us safe.

"You have five minutes." John B ignores me and leaves my room, slamming my door shut.

I roll my eyes and tumble out of my soft bed. I slip on my jeans shorts and a white t shirt that I tie in a knot to make it a crop top. Underneath it I have on my plain black bikini, knowing that I will be surfing the second we get home. The News has been reporting a storm for weeks that's suppose to hit tonight. Vicious waves and crazy winds sends a thrill through my body.

We arrive to the social worker's office only two minutes late. I thought that was a sign of responsibility, but the social worker only looks at us with distaste as we sit in the two chairs in front of her desk.

"John, Marleigh, it's come to our attention that you two are unemancipated minors living on your own." Her hair is pulled back into a tight low bun and her glasses are perched on the tip of her nose. Her suit looks way too tight for comfort, like it's squeezing the life out of her.

John B scoffs and leans back into his seat as if we have nothing to worry about, but I know his heart is beating just as wildly as mine. "No....no." The social worker raises one brow in suspicion and glances in my direction to either confirm or deny what John B is saying. John B sees this and answers for me. "No."

I just shrug as a response, which only makes the social worker more weary. She leans into her desk and folds her hands on top of our folders that are piled in the middle. "I need honesty to help you. That's what we want, right?"

"Yeah. I'm being honest."

"Okay, then when is the last time you spoke to your uncle?"

John B looks down at his watch and purses his lips. "Uh...thirty-four minutes ago."

"When's the last time you saw him?"

"Two hours and...forty-three minutes ago?"

I hold myself back from rolling my eyes. It's clear on the social worker's face that she's not buying into any of John B's lies.

She sighs and turns to look at me. "We're gonna come out there tomorrow to talk to your uncle. If he's not there, we're gonna move forward with foster care." Foster care. The words make me dig my nails into the wood of the arms of the chair I'm in. The last place I ever wanna be is in foster care. I want to stay here on the island with my brother and our friends. Not with some random family who couldn't care less about us in a place I'm not familiar with. "I want to assure you, we're gonna find you a safe and loving home."

She says it like she's offering us a better life, one that we would want, one that sounds like the better option but it isn't. I ignore the worried look John B sends my way and watch the seconds go by on the clock above the door. We basically have twenty-four hours to find Uncle T or someone to be pretend to be him.

                                                  ~ ~ ~

The winds begin picking up early in the afternoon, the rain hitting by 5. On my way home from working at the Wreck, I watch people board up the windows of their stores and homes. All John B and I can do is hope that our little shack won't blow away by morning.

Unfortunately for Pope, he's at our house when John B catches me leaving the house with my board. When he tells me to stop, I'm prepared to put up a fight. I've been looking forward to surfing in this storm all day - something I can use to push the DCS lady out of my head and the promise she made that sounded more like a threat.

"You think you were gonna go out without me?" John B smirks and leads the way to the beach.

Pope follows behind us like a lost puppy, basically talking to himself as he tries to convince us that this is a bad idea. We stop at the edge of the beach. It's almost impossible to see the ocean through the wind and the rain.

"Those aren't surfable waves, bro," Pope says, squinting through the rain that splatters our faces wet.

"Says who?" I say, passing him a devious smirk and make a run for it towards the ocean.

I paddle past the choppy waves, letting the water knock me around like a feather in the wind. When I see a decent looking wave to ride, I prop myself up on my feet and stand. I lean into my board. The warmth that's taken over my body outruns the cold water I fall into when the waves crash over me. My body tumbles under the water and my board bumps against me. I try to swim back up to the surface but the current is strong. I don't know where I am and I can't see under the water. My nose burns when water rushes up my nostrils. I squeeze my eyes tight and just swim upwards in hope of reaching air. Maybe this was a bad idea, but the thrill is still keeping me excited.

I finally reach the surface after what feels like years. John B and Pope's screams are dull against the whistling wind. I hop back on my board and give the two guys a thumbs up and a wicked smile. Pope looks like he's about ready to have a heart attack and John B breathes out a sigh of relief as he paddles closer to me.

"You alright?" He asks me.

"Fine," I yell against the wind.

John B nods. He looks like he's about to say something else, but something over my shoulder catches his attention. I turn myself around, intrigued at what's he's seeing other than the water, clouds, and a bunch of rain. Then I see it. A boat that barely looks afloat, so far out that it looks like a speck against the rain.

"We should probably go," I say. I don't want John B's mind to run to what might have happened to Dad out there. Maybe he was caught by a storm like this, maybe his boat went overboard and his body is out there floating with the fishes. I don't know. The last thing I need him to do right now is speculate. Even if the same thoughts are running through my head, John B thinks he's still alive. These thoughts will keep him up all night. He doesn't move, however. "John B let's go."

                                                  ~ ~ ~

JJ is already laying on the pull out bed in my living room when I get out of the shower. JJ crashes here most days of the week. He'd much rather be here than with his drunk abusive dad. Our friends don't know the extent of how shitty his relationship really is with his dad. But I do. I found out when I was thirteen. JJ snuck through my bedroom window after a tough night with his dad. His face and torso were covered in bruises. It took everything in me not to burst out in tears right then and there. But for some reason, he trusted me of all people with his biggest secret. I cleaned him up and let him sleep in my bed with me. Every once in a while we repeat the process. Sometimes he's not even hurt, he just shows up. And I let him in because I like having him there.

I fall onto the mattress next to him and prop my head up on my hand, leaning on my elbow. I run my fingers through his hair, feeling satisfied and bubbly when he moans in response.

"When did you get here?" I ask him.

"You were in the shower. Don't worry I didn't peak, but I was tempted," He says into his pillow.

I use the same hand I had woven in his hair and punch his shoulder playfully, making him fall on his back. His lips turn up in a grin.

I lay there for a second, looking up at the ceiling. My eyes feel heavy, the events of the day officially taking over my body. I peek an eye over at JJ who's watching me carefully as if I might break under his fingertips.

"What?" I grin to myself, thankful for the darkness so he couldn't see the blush on my cheeks. Again.

"You all right?" He asks, pushing my hair out of my face so he can look straight into my eyes.

"Why wouldn't I be?"

JJ hesitates, like he's trying to pick the right words to say. I watch him closely, studying every mark and crevice on his face. Beautiful and clear like always. Even when it's covered in bruises and blemishes, he's handsome. I could look at him all day.

"You hate storms," He says.

"I can sleep through anything," I tell him. "And I don't hate storms. They make for...eventful surfing days."

His face drops to a more serious one. "You know what I mean."

I do. Storms have never really frightened me. Not really. But ever since my dad disappeared nine months ago, I worried that he would get caught in a storm like this, that by morning there would be a knock on my door from an officer who would tell me that a dead body has washed up on shore and they ID'd him as my father. The image leaves me with nightmares on nights like tonight.

JJ's the only one who knows this.

I don't like talking about it. Like JJ, we have this in common. So instead of telling him I'm fine and him not believing me, I pull the blanket at the edge of the mattress over our bodies and tuck myself into his side, laying my head on his shoulder. A position so intimate for just us "friends." I hope he can't feel my heart pounding beneath my skin, against his side. I let my body soften against his, feeling sleep take over me. I fall into a dreamless sleep next to JJ, hoping that the storm will be gone by the time we wake up.

[young-dumb-and-vaccinated]

Cult Girl: Doctorate (Hannibal x Female!Reader) pt. 6

Positive

Cult girl and Hannibal find a way to turn a life-altering mistake to their favor.

@wisesandwichshark

Trigger warnings: accidental pregnancy, discussion of abortion, adoption, slight emetophobia

Another week passed and the 'hangover' didn't subside. Then a third week passed, so you had to give up the façade and just admit you were sick. Hannibal was smugly concerned, but not alarmed. It paid to have a doctor for a fiancé. Studying could be done from bed and you needed to be in perfect working order to burn down your grandmother's country club and fully enjoy it.

Hannibal wasn't so much of a hypochondriac that he denied you affection while bed-ridden. That, or he didn't believe what you had was contagious. Whatever it was.

It wasn't until you woke up late, just days before the start of the new semester, that you discovered. You hobbled blindly to the bathroom to take your medicine. You were fully prepared to drop to your knees and vomit in the toilet and you wanted nothing more than to return to bed and slip back into sweet unconsciousness. Not even microdosing meth could keep you awake.

You slid your birth control packet out of its sleeve. You were halfway through the green placebo pills, so you were sure that didn't help how miserable you felt. This period sure had a hell of a build-up.

That's when a number caught your eye.

It was a number you weren't even previously aware existed. A date on your birth control packet. Dated three months prior.

You weren't lucid enough to comprehend what it meant, but once it hit you, you spit the pill into the sink.

Expired. You thought. How the fuck do pills expire?

No. No. No. No.

"[F/N]?" Hannibal said. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah." You called back. "I... just need to take a shower."

You turned the faucet on. It was a bad lie and he would figure it out eventually, but you couldn't involve him. Not yet. You needed a minute alone to think.

You found the pregnancy test you stashed under the sink all those years ago. You double-checked the lock, then began the test. There was no romantic or even palatable way to describe the process of peeing on a stick, quietly as possible, to avoid your frankly terrifying fiancé's notice. Once it was done, you wrapped the still-loading test in toilet paper and shoved it back under the sink.

You had no idea how long it would take to give you a result. Or if waiting four years to use it would give you a false result. There was so much you didn't know.

You jumped into the shower and washed up, trying to push all thoughts of panic out of your head. It didn't work. You went right into bury-the-body mode. A fall down the stairs could best pass for an accident, but had the unintended consequences of severe bodily harm. You wondered if those special herbal teas actually worked and where you'd find one. Or, instead of investing in gimmicky, pseudo-scientific abortion teas or throwing yourself down a flight of stairs, you could just talk to him.

You sat on the bathroom floor in a towel for what felt like hours, holding the mummified pregnancy test between your fingers. It took all your strength to rip through the tissue paper and confirm what you already knew.

A big, obnoxious pink plus sign. Almost like it was rubbing it in.

Your head was screaming just talk to him. He was your goddamn fiancé. The man you were going to spend the rest of your life with. But you couldn't tell him. Not after what he said at the country club.

"Hannibal?" You called out, voice weak. "Can you come here, please?"

He opened the bathroom door to find you huddled against the sink wearing nothing but a towel. It was a sight that would make anyone freak out.

"My god, [F/N]." He took a knee beside you. "Are you hurt? Did you hit your head?"

You gestured to the pregnancy test at your side. You hugged your knees into your chest and waited for him to process everything.

He looked at you with an unreadable expression. "I thought you were on birth control?"

You covered your face with your hands. "I did too. Nobody told me that the pills actually expire."

Then came the question that you were dreading.

"What do you want to do?"

That was why you were hesitant to tell him. Not because he would try to make a decision for you, but because he wouldn't.

"I don't know." You blurted out. "What do you want to do?"

Hannibal raised his eyebrows. "You know I can't tell you that. You need to decide for yourself."

"That's what I was afraid you were going to say." You threw your head back in exasperation. "I'm just asking for a little direction. You said you definitely wanted to have kids-"

"Not like this." He cut you off. "Not when it would derail your entire career.” 

“Look, you know I was on the fence about having kids at all.” You rambled, just trying to collect your thoughts. “But then you described what you wanted for us and it just sounded so nice.” 

“Darling, I am begging you,” He pressed his fingers to his temples. “Please, decide for yourself and only yourself.” 

“I’m trying!” You objected. “I just need a second to think.” 

“Don’t think, just answer.” He implored. “What do you want to do?” 

“I want to get an abortion.” You blurted out before slapping your hand over your mouth. 

“Was that really so hard to say?” Hannibal asked, voice broken with relief. Relief of what, you couldn’t place. 

You couldn’t bring yourself to make eye contact with him. “It was, a little.” 

“Why?” He tilted his head curiously. “And please don’t say it was because of me.” 

“I don’t know.” You shrugged, hiding your face again. “I just learned I was pregnant, like, five minutes ago. I shouldn’t be expected to make a choice this massive without at least ten minutes to think about it.” 

“Do you really want to get an abortion?” He asked. 

Your voice wobbled with uncertainty. “No... yes?” 

“I see.” He said, as if this were just a point of academic curiosity that didn’t involve him whatsoever. “Is there a part of you, no matter how small, that wants to see the pregnancy to term?” 

“Well, yeah. Thus the basis of my uncertainty.” You threw your hands up. “But I also know it’s insanely unrealistic to think I could just speedrun my last two years of school and however long it takes to establish a career just to get to the domestic bliss.”

“You would do good to not expect motherhood to be a blissful retirement plan, love." Hannibal gently scorned. "Parenting takes just as much commitment as your studies. Likely more."

"I know." You bashed your palms against your forehead. "I said it was unrealistic, didn't I? Look, I just don't foresee any worthwhile outcomes if I carry this pregnancy to term. Even to put it up for adoption just seems selfish. Why bring a kid into the world just to set them up for a shitty life?"

Hannibal paused, and looked off into the distance pensively.

"If you could forgive me a hypothetical," He began. "What if we could guarantee them a wonderful life?"

"Are we talking philosophy, or do you have an actual suggestion?" You probed.

"A bit of both, depending on where your mind takes you." He smirked as if he were about to say something very clever. "What if Beatrice [L/N]'s estate made sure our child had a safe, comfortable upbringing? With a weighty college trust fund in their name, naturally."

You couldn't tell if this was brilliant or insane. It all depended on how 'hypothetical' the whole situation really was. Either way, you were interested.

"Go on." You urged, letting the idea slither into your mind.

"There's nothing in the will that specifically states we must raise the child ourselves." He recounted. "Only that it must be of blood descent."

You hadn't considered that, but it made sense once you heard it out loud. Your grandmother had many skills to make her a sharp manipulator, but her inattention to detail was always her downfall.

“Forty-five million extra dollars in the bank would be nice.” You said. You were humoring him at first, but when you said it out loud, it rang true. 

“Forty-five is drops in the bucket compared to what we can get from her property.” He added. “The house and the golf course.” 

You put your hand on your chin, actually, seriously considering it. You were on the precipice of inheriting more money than you could possibly spend in one lifetime. Money that could make so many problems go away overnight. Money you could hand out to anyone you wanted to, just to make their lives a little easier. You pictured yourself giving waitstaff six-figure tips, or handing a hundred dollar bill to someone asking for change on the street. You could erase your best friend's college debt as a birthday present. Get Hannibal a proper gift. All with money you bled out of your abusers.

It was divine justice. All at the price of nine months of your life.

"So..." Your voice trailed off. "We just need to keep this thing alive for the next nine months..."

"We can find an adoptive family in that time." Hannibal nodded along. "And we can set up a college fund for the child to be given to them on their 18th birthday."

"And we could make the adoption open, in case the child ever wants to meet us." You said.

"Right." He agreed. "Allowing the option for an adoptee to meet their biological parents is much better for their mental health and adjustment."

You covered your mouth with your hand, only to hide your excitement. "I take it back, I'm starting to see a positive outcome."

[wizkiddx]

i loved your blurb the other day . i have a request off it if you could do one more domesticated about the little things tom does in a relationship?

Ooooh I loved loved loved this request!! In my head he is a complete romantic sap at heart <333 this is a lot more wordy that I normally write and bit concerned it is a shitter - feedback would be well appreciate, if you have any opinion on which crappy writing style I do less badly :///

Summary: the boring and domesticated day to day life with Tom

warnings: look really close an a bit of implied smut, but otherwise sickeningly nice stuff I think ahah

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Given his rather unique position and place in the world - your relationship with Tom was also very much not typical. By no means did that mean worse though - Tom meant the world to you; as you did him. Yes, at times it was tough - the distance, the tightly scheduled face times because of the time difference. But every time you saw his crinkly smile, it was almost set in stone everything was worth it. He was, most definitely, worth it. 

Especially as he was such a sap. Perhaps because some of the things he did that brought rushes of heat to your cheeks - Tom wasn’t even aware of. Of course, Tom being Tom, he obviously did the bigger things and spoilt you rotten - which you were never going to complain about - though those weren’t the things that made your heart flutter so inexplicably. 

Take yesterday for example. Tom had just got back home from a long filming shoot for SM3 and it was fair to say you’d both been pining over each other enormously. Once he was back though, none of that mattered. The pair of you had spent almost a full 18 hours in bed, before eventually you’d pulled away from the pouty boy, due to your desperate need of a shower. That was too far away from you in Tom’s opinion though- meaning you’d had a shared shower too. Purely for water saving + environmental purposes , or at least, that had been his justification. It was intimate but not sexual, leading to the two of you wrapped in towels in the marble bathroom. Busying yourself with your skincare, you weren’t paying any mind to your boyfriend, who you assumed to be faffing about as usual. That was until you felt a gentle tug on the back of your towel dried hair. Instantly you locked eyes with warm brown ones looking back at you through the slightly fogged up mirror, panning down to see the hair brush in his hand. 

“What’re you doing?” You laughed gently, leaning back onto his bare torso, still slightly damp from the humidity lingering in the bathroom air. 

“ ‘jus’ brushin your hair, I haven’t got all the lotions and potions to spend hours on.” Cheeky bugger. Sweet but with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes - as he watched you roll yours. 

“If I phoned Rach and said you weren’t following her-“ Cut off by his lips craning round to meet yours, you decided not to fight it, instead melting into his embrace while turning round - your body still only wrapped in the towel tucked under your arm. After a few moments Tom paused to whisper a shh against your lips, before painfully slowly moving against yours again. God knows, you would’ve stayed in that moment forever if you could however you did also still have moisturiser only half rubbed in on your face, like warpaint. So, you turned back around finishing off in the mirror and very much enjoying the sensation of Tom still hovering behind,  ever so gently working the brush through your hair. It took much longer than it should have for you to finish off, mainly because you spent the time watching him in the mirror concentrate, especially the way he pressed his tongue against the inside of his left cheek in concentration. 

After the pair of you had finally got ready for the day (at 3 in the afternoon but no one had to know), you’d gone out for a walk with his parents. Naturally you spent the majority of the time gossiping with Nikki slightly ahead of the Dom and Tom - who were no doubt talking about golf or something equally as dull. Tom loved to say that he found how close you and Nikki got as terrifying - really you both knew he only adored you more for it. Family was everything to Tom and given poor Nikki’s immediate surroundings of pure testosterone, when you became integrated into the family it was like a breath of fresh air. And you didn’t smell of boy - which to her was a win. 

It was a beautiful early evening and the sun was slowly creeping its way toward the horizon, changing the light from a brilliant white to a more golden hue - basking the four of you and Tess in the glow. You’d all come to a natural halt whilst Tess had gone a bit mental chasing squirrels. It just worked out that the sun was opposite you and though the evening was beautiful, dealing with it head on , in your eyes, was not the most enjoyable. Before you could even reach your arm out to shield yourself from the sun,  the light was blocked out, a shadow casting over your forehead. 

Now what’s important to note here is Tom is by no means a tall man. He wasn’t a midget but it would be fair to say that all 5 foot 8 of him was ‘below average height’. Not that it let him stop being a sun block for you and you really did try not to giggle as your furrowed brows caught site of his raised heels. This boy was literally standing on his tiptoes to stop the sun getting in your eyes for god sake. He noticed your grin though and as if it was the most normal thing in the world just shrugged his shoulders before engaging back in his parents conversation. You weren’t as quick to recover, honestly having to take a moment to swallow down your glee. 

Afterwards, you’d gone straight back the Holland family home as they all wanted to celebrate Tom and Harry’s return- what better way than having Sam the master chef himself cook you all a three course meal? As if choreographed both of you had taken the seats next to each other… but not in a clingy way at all, Paddy was interrogating you on how the hell you’d beaten him at the classic game of mariokart (which you would never let him live down) whilst Tom and Harry were recounting one of their many tales of filming to Nikki. Once the plates of food were served out to you by the esteemed chef, Tom wasted no time in skilfully and subtly piling the greens of vegetables and salad off your plate and onto his. You’d never dream of offending Sam by insulting his cooking, really you did love it - there was just something about rabbit food that you had to put your foot down at. Perhaps it was because it was literal leaves? Things that you used to feed to your pet hamster perhaps? It was a constant source of bickering between you, Tom and Harry- they claimed you’d end up dying because of the lack of leaves in your diet, which you strongly contested. Fruit and some veg was allowed but salad- stay the hell away.

Anyway it didn’t matter, you wouldn’t have to face that debate tonight because Tom had you covered. He always had you covered. 

Finally, the night rolled round which you were so thankful for, considering even though you’d had an extortionate amount of time in bed last night - not a lot of it had actually been spent asleep. Combine that with the wine you’d been happily sipping on in celebration, it pretty much explained the situation you found yourself in now. Eyes bobbing up and down as the TV drifted in and out of focus, the slow and gentle thud of Tom’s heartbeat lulling you into that floaty place. You didn’t fight the drowsiness because really, nestled between the cushions of the sofa and Tom’s chest, you didn’t want to be anywhere else. Letting your eyes slide shut completely, you took a deep breath in and nuzzled into his chest- barely registering how he lightly chuckled at the action. Tom just took the time to look down at you, pressing the most gently kiss to the crown of your head. Moments like this would never not be his favourite. Don’t get him wrong, he loved your wit and sarcastic charm when you were more conscious… but something about how comfortable you were to be completely vulnerable with him, gave him a purpose. He would never be able to wrap his head around why you’d let him - how he deserved this was beyond him but he was so bloody thankful for it. 

Your hand that was splayed on his stomach caught his eye, you still had your bracelet on from the meal and he knew you hated sleeping with any jewellery on. Instinctively then, Tom ever so gently manipulated the clasp and skilfully removed the silver chain - reaching over and placing it on the little coffee table. Having spent 3 months without you within 100 miles of him, Tom was more than willing to wake up with back ache if it meant spending the night on the sofa with you like this. The gentle grasp on your wrist had roused you a little though. 

It was always the simple things that made your heart burst - like the bracelet . Or like his little raspy whisper, voice tired and thinking you were asleep. Even if everything else disappeared, it would still be the greatest life if you had Tom there saying this. 

“Your home Y/n… you and me forever…

…until u die from not eating ur greens.”

[mirxzii]

who is/are your comfort character(s)?

lighter or matches?

do you leave the window open at night?

which cryptyd being do you believe in?

what color are your eyes?

why did you do that?

hair-ties or scrunchies?

how many water bottles are in your room right now?

which do you prefer, hot coffee or cold coffee?

would you slaughter the rich?

favorite extracurricular activity?

what kind of day is it?

when was the last time you ate?

do you love the smell of earth after it rains?

are you a parent? (all answers qualify)

can you drive?

are you farsighted or nearsighted?

what hair products do you use?

imagine we’re at a sleepover, would you paint my nails?

do you say soda or pop?

something you’ve kept since childhood?

what type of person are you?

how do you feel about chilly weather?

if we were together on a rooftop, what would we be doing?

perfume/body spray or lotion?

a scenario that you’ve replayed multiple times?

about how many hours of sleep did you get?

do you wear a mask?

how do you like your shower water?

is there dishes in your room?

what type of music keeps you grounded?

do you have a favorite towel?

the last adventure you’ve been on?

is there a song you know every word to by heart?

what’s your timezone?

how many times have you changed your url?

someone in your life, other than a relative, you’ve known for 10+ years?

a soap bar that smells good?

do you use lip balm?

did you have any snacks today?

how do you take your coffee?

an app you frequently use besides this godforsaken site?

what’s your take on spicy foods?

you get a free pass to kill anyone, who is it?

can you remember what happened yesterday?

favorite holiday film?

what was the last message you sent?

when did you first try an alcohol beverage?

can you skip rocks?

can i tag you in random stuff?

assuming this means all of them, so whew.. here we go

alr answered!

probably lighter, although ive never used one.

absolutely not. window closed, blinds closrd, curtains closed.

idk what this means but i kinda believe in ghosts

green!

because im an idiot DGBVXHN

hair ties!

3 hahah

neither!

probably

drawing i think

its a laze around and do nothing kind of day

umm maybe an hour or two ago?

kinda?

i am. i have many children who i will protect with my life

i can drive a golf cart

alr answered!

uhhh idk?

YES BUT ID BE RLY BAD

soda!

this alice in wonderland funko pop, plus my very first stuffie named baby (i ripped off his head once and my mom had to sew it back on)

im not sure what this means haha

i like chilly weather sometimes, but not all the time. better than hot weather

we would be talking together probably

neither

scenarios of characters falling asleep next to me/with me probably

last night? probably about 7?

i do sometimes!

HOT.

nope!

vocaloid ehehe

yeah its this pink one that velcros around so that i dont have to hold it while i walk

uhh…probably at camp?

alr answered!

uhhh pst?

alot…im not quite sure how many times

yup, a lot of my old classmates

no clue

nope!

uhh i dont think so

i dont drink coffee!

pjsekai and ibispaint KEHDJKS

hate it. spicy food sucks ass

…this remains my secret ehe

uhm..oh yeah i met a friend and had ice cream

there arent really any good jewish holiday films

huh?

I HAD WINE AT PASSOVER DINNER TWO YEARS AGO AND GOT TIPSY IT WAS COOL

nope!

ABSOLUTELY YES PLS

[grannyandgrandpascreations]

Life Is Better On The Green Golf Towel

This hunter green “Life Is Better On The Green” golf towel clips easily and attaches easily to any golf bags and makes a perfect golf gift for any Golfer!

You will be worry-free on the green while using these durable, fast-drying, absorbent golf towel. Our Golf Towels make great gifts for that Golfer in your life. Golfers use dry towels for absorbing moisture and drying objects such as their golf balls, clubs, and hands. Our Golf Towels serves as a way to remove the swear from hands and face before taking a shot, and also to wipe down the grip of the blub.

Hunter Green 100% Cotton, sheared velour terry. Dobby border hem. Corner grommet. Hook included. 16x26

Care instructions: Machine wash cold, no bleach, no softener. Do not dry clean. Do not iron. Tumble dry low.

#grannygrandpascustomcreations - #golf - #golftowel

This hunter green “Life Is Better On The Green” golf towel clips easily and attaches easily to any golf bags and makes a perfect golf gift for any Golfer!

You will be worry-free on the green while using these durable, fast-drying, absorbent golf towel.  Our Golf Towels make great gifts for that Golfer in your life. Golfers use dry towels for absorbing moisture and drying objects such as their golf balls, clubs, and hands. Our Golf Towels serves as a way to remove the swear from hands and face before taking a shot, and also to wipe down the grip of the blub.

Hunter Green 100% Cotton, sheared velour terry. Dobby border hem. Corner grommet. Hook included. 16x26

Care instructions: Machine wash cold, no bleach, no softener. Do not dry clean. Do not iron. Tumble dry low.

#grannygrandpascustomcreations - #golf - #golftowel

[thosequeenboys]

Every Road Leads Back to You (Ben Hardy x Joe Mazzello)

Summary:  Joe is on holiday in Europe, visiting the BoRhap boys.  His visit to Ben, who is on set in Belfast filming Pixie, brings up many emotions in each of them, and helps them gain some clarity.  

A/N:  The IG and Tumblr postings of these two have worn me down!  In this angsty story Ben and Joe, are dealing with their own personal and professional struggles.  In my professional life, I coach people to help them succeed in their jobs and work situations.  This story made me think about the strains of an acting career.   The title is from the Bette Midler song, “Every Road Leads Back to you” from the enjoyable, emotional movie, “For the Boys.”  Song lyrics in the story, which came to me as I wrote, are bolded and referenced at the end.    

Thank you!: I’d like to thank all the great FanFic writers and Fandom members who entertain and inspire me.  Special shout outs to @deakysgurl for beta reading this for me; @jessahmewren, my first Tumblr author, encourager and connection;  and @m0etenchandon, @freddie-mercurial, @dayoneliveaid @brownhardyho @brianmay-be @deacytits @deacysfabottomedgirl @its-our-paris @queenismykween

Warnings:  Angst, Love, loss of a parent, some longing. Figuring out life, love and work stuff!!

Joe was on holiday! Following the golf tournament with Gwilym, Joe arrived in Venice and joined Rami, Lucy, and other friends on a luxurious boat ride.  They realized they were being followed by a slew of paparazzi.  They indulged them for a while and finally shut it down by turning their backs and flipping them the bird, successfully causing them to scatter.

As their boat docked, Joe’s attention turned to the last leg of his trip-seeing his best buddy of them all in Belfast, where he was filming.  A smile spread across his face and he took a deep breath, anticipating their reunion.   It had been a long time.  

He paused on the dock and texted Ben: “Hey, wrapping in Venice and looking forward to heading to your neck of the woods tomorrow.  Got a Noon plane-should get to you around 6:00.  Please send your address.” 

He eyed his phone for a few minutes as Rami spoke, awaiting a response.  

“We’re heading to dinner, want to join us, Joe?” Rami asked.

 “Thanks, but I’m gonna head back to the hotel,” Joe said.  “I have some things to catch up on before I head out tomorrow.”

“Oh, right,” Rami smiled. “You’re going to visit Ben. I’m sure he could use a break.  Please send him our love. I’m so glad we had this time together.  Love you, dude.”  Joe hugged Rami and Lucy good-bye.  

 He glanced at his phone as he walked toward a cab.  No response.

Joe retreated to his hotel room. He changed, worked out, got dinner, and left a message for his agent, eager to hear if he solidified an audition for him for a Netflix mini-series and a movie role. He became agitated at the uncertainty-both about career plans-and his imminent travel.  He checked his phone again hoping for a text, still no response. His agitation grew.

That night, Joe lay in bed.  His future held a number of uncertainties-will he need to move to LA again or go on location if he gets these roles? Are these the best he can get?  What about his family, who were still adjusting to the new normal?  It was overwhelming to think about.  Eager to calm and distract himself, he laid back and let his mind flash to warm and wonderful images of BoRhrap: filming over long days; grabbing late night meals; sharing endless jokes; working together so easily.  Suddenly, his breath hitched as he thought about the suffering that intruded into those happy times.  His eyes watered, remembering how he unraveled in slow motion when answered his ringing phone to his sister’s teary voice. Even now, it was hard to believe his dad was gone.   His knees had buckled after hanging up with her. The boys raised him up, physically and emotionally, encircling him as his tears flowed.  He remembered glancing at Ben, whose green eyes burrowed into him, visibly tearing up himself, as he squeezed Joe’s shoulder in their huddled group embrace.  

Returning to his present restless night, he didn’t grant those emotions permission to invade him, and he switched his inner screen to the next reel of happier times: the movie premiere and the interviews, as the film rocked the world; the whirlwind of Awards nominations; the Oscars; and their playful Instagram posts, featuring Hardzello and Cardy-B.  

 Over time, the hype and glow of the movie faded, and the boys parted to pursue other endeavors.  Ben travelled extensively, working on multiple projects.  Calls were strained and rushed.  “I gotta go, buddy…I’m sorry….I  hope we can see each other -- next month, maybe, yeah?”

“Yeah, I know.  Let me know, and I’ll get a ticket…” Joe had responded before he heard Ben carrying on another conversation as the call disconnected.

He missed his dear friend and the times they shared, on and off the set - and the love.  Joe had not allowed himself to dig deeply into what that love meant.  He just knew the magic of those 12 months were like nothing he ever experienced, and he wanted to have Ben in his life.   “When I look and I find…I still love you. (1). And without him, there was an emptiness.

Suddenly, his phone pinged. “Hi, here’s the address….”

That was it.  Not “Can’t wait to see you!”  He felt a little dismissed.  Was Ben fitting him in as a favor?

‘Great, see you soon!” he responded. Relieved to have the details set, he fell asleep, rising early to head to the airport.  He ran to the gate after security dragged for over an hour. Settling into his seat, he welcomed the stillness.

Joe ordered a drink, downed it quickly and then fell asleep as the plane took off.  The sleep became restless as he pictured the visit, fueled by Ben’s less-than-enthusiastic text.  He pictured arriving at Ben’s modern flat with floor to ceiling windows that looked out high over the city.  He envisioned Ben’s co-stars there-mingling, snacking and drinking, easy laughter flowing. He saw Ben in his element, giving hugs, cracking private jokes, looking vibrant, fit and elegant, his new friends fawning over him. Though Ben would try to fill Joe in on the jokes, Joe pictured himself feeling awkward - and replaced.  Joe’s eyes flew open as the plane landed; his heart pounding and tears welled in his eyes, those images of Ben’s new friendships stinging him. It was a mistake to come here, he thought. His stomach tightened as he pictured himself cast in the role as outsider. 

“Landed” Joe texted to Ben as he grabbed a cab.  The cab dropped him off and he ambled up the path to the non-descript apartment complex. He knocked on Ben’s door softly.

The door was opened by a solemn Ben. “You made it.  Come in.”  Ben said with a tense grin.  Joe took a deep breath to brace himself and walked through the door tentatively.  He stopped and breathed a sigh of relief.  Ben was alone. There was no party.  No laughter. No new friends.  The furnished apartment was dreary; the living room was lit by one standing lamp with a heavy shade that emitted a dim light, next to the worn couch. There were empty take out containers on the coffee table and free weights strewn about the floor, along with a pile of newspapers and other assorted items.  This wasn’t like Ben, Joe thought, knowing that he was pretty meticulous and organized about his surroundings and himself.  

 Joe put his bag down and looked up at Ben.  Their eyes locked.  “Hey Buddy,” Joe said as he leaned in to hug him.  Ben hugged him back tentatively and broke the hug quickly. “You want a beer?” Ben asked, as he headed through the small living room toward the back of the small apartment to the tiny windowless kitchen, situated between the living room and bedroom.  “Sure,” Joe replied as he followed Ben.

Ben swung the refrigerator door open to get the beers and Joe peered in behind him.  “Dude, you got things growing and dying in there.  What’s up???” Joe asked with a smirk, feigning outrage.  Ben chuckled. It felt good to laugh.  He had to admit, some things just sounded better with an American accent.  Ben grabbed two beers and as he went to close the frig, Joe held the door open.  “Ok, this needs to be addressed.  Like. Now.”  Joe started quickly removing items from the fridge to the small counter and gathered a handful of rotten food, motioning to the garbage can, which Ben brought over.  “You travelled all this way to clean out my fridge?” Ben asked with crooked grin and a raised eyebrow.

“Aha!” Joe said.  “Takeout rice and chicken, salvageable veggies.”   I can make us a stir-fry!!  And organize your fridge.  You get two for the price of the one. Are you hungry?”

“Uh yeah, that would be great. Thanks.” Actually, Ben wasn’t sure if he was hungry.  He should be. He had toast in the morning and snacks during brief breaks at the catering tent.  His stomach was in knots most of the time, the stress he felt taking up residence there and throwing off his natural patterns.  Ben liked that Joe took charge-to help bring some order into his world, feeling his own tenuous grip  – and he was moved that Joe took steps to care for him.

“Great.  I’ll get this together in a few minutes.  You look tired? Why don’t you sit down and rest?”

 “Actually”, Ben said,” I think I’ll take a shower-if that’s ok.”  He put the beers on the kitchen table.

 “Sure, sure.”  Ben headed to the bathroom off the bedroom in the back of the flat.  Joe got to work, chopping veggies, heating up the rice and chicken, and creating a sauce. He always felt comfortable in the kitchen and loved to cook.  And there was nothing he’d rather do at this moment then take care of Ben, who was out of sorts.  His eyes didn’t have their usual sparkle and he seemed tense, down and distracted, listless almost. Clearly something was plaguing Ben and he needed to figure it out. As dinner cooked, Joe finished cleaning and organizing the fridge.

Ben came into the kitchen fresh from the shower, running a towel through his glossy hair. He was wearing fresh jeans and a sweatshirt.  Joe couldn’t stop his eyes from lingering on Ben, who literally took Joe’s breath away. Joe turned his body away from the blonde to shift his focus.  “Perfect timing.  Dinner is served,” he said in a British accent, pleased that he remembered how to breath after that brief arousal-and how to slip into a British accent.   He hastily set the table and served the meal.

Ben chuckled at Joe’s mock service. “This was nice of you.  Thanks,” he said, sitting down and throwing the towel on the table.  He rolled the food over his plate gracefully with the fork, taking a few bites to his mouth. Eager to distract the conversation away from himself, he peppered Joe with questions.  

 ““I saw the pap pictures.  Nice ending there,” he smiled.  “How are Rami and Lucy?” he asked.

“Oh, you know, nauseatingly happy and cute, can’t keep their hands off each other for a second.  And that Rami…has a million projects lined up-he sets the world on fire, he can burn brighter than the sun.” (2)  Ben nodded and raised other topics to steer the conversation: The World Cup, Brian and Roger touring with Adam-and how happy they looked.

Ben worked hard to get a few forkfuls in his mouth between the strained discussion.  The food was nourishing and tasty, lovingly prepared by Joe.  He wished he was able to appreciate it.

Joe noticed Ben’s hesitation and stared at him.  “You don’t like it? I mean, I know we’re not at the Oscars After-Party…”  

“I do, I do, I’m just…” Ben let his voice trail.  He could feel he was close to the floodgates opening.  It took every ounce of concentration to hold his emotions inside and project a light demeanor, his best acting of the day.  He desperately wanted to show his appreciation to Joe for visiting and taking care of him.  He just wanted things to be normal.  “I’m good,” Ben blurted out, “Really. Just done in by today’s taping.  His folded-up demeanor and dark eyes belied his sentiment.

Joe saw right through it.  “Well, don’t take this the wrong way, but you don’t look good.  I mean, you look sad…distraught really.  And look at this place. It’s a hell hole.  It’s not like you to live like this.  Something’s troubling you.  Please tell me what’s going on.” Joe urged.  

Ben looked down and placed his fork on the plate.  Tears gathered in his eyes. “It’s been so horrible.  The script is a mess, constant rewrites.  The director is an asshole. He keeps changing his mind and asking for retakes.  He gets frustrated when we can’t get things right immediately.  How can we? The lines keep changing!! Everyone is so frustrated and tense.  I like the cast ok, but we’ve all actually been bickering.  I hate it.  I wish I never signed on.  It’s so unlike BoRhap.  I …I”

His voice cut off and the tears started to flow down his cheeks.  Joe stood and helped Ben up.  “Come on, let’s sit on the couch,” he said, as he escorted the younger man a few steps into the living room and eased him onto the couch, sitting beside him.  Ben started to heave, his body shaking, as the last two months of pent up frustration, sadness and stress spilled out of him.

“Oh, Ben, oh, Buddy,” Joe leaned into him and hugged him, feeling Ben’s body tense up and shake with emotion finally being let loose.  Joe’s mind raced. He felt totally ill-equipped to soothe Ben.  He recalled his jealous feelings of earlier in the day and felt guilty. While he didn’t want to be replaced, he certainly didn’t want his friend to be miserable.  He felt so selfish-not thinking of what was going on with Ben that led him to be distant.

Joe felt panicked about how to be in the moment with Ben. He took a deep breath and rubbed Ben’s back. He faced him and looked into his eyes, ran his fingers though his hair and then put both of his arms on the younger man’s shoulders.  “Hey. Listen to me.  I know you’re overwrought.  But you can do this. You’re a great actor.  You can’t take all the crap personally.  Whatever they expect-It’s inside of you-you’ll tap into it.  Then you’ll get to the other side of it.”  He brought him in for a close hug, as Ben whimpered.  “It’s ok.  You’ll be ok,” Joe soothed.  Ben stayed in Joe’s arms, letting his friend take on his emotions.

“I feel so badly you have been suffering.  I should have reached out more…” Joe mumbled.

“I didn’t either. I couldn’t.” Ben said. “I felt like a failure. I guess I wanted you to think I was in control.  That I was a professional and could handle anything.”

“You are - and you can.”  Joe replied without missing a beat.

“I wanted to keep the image going. That I’m this leading actor who has it all together.   When in fact, it is all so close to falling apart-and has been for awhile.”  Ben added.

“You don’t have to keep up an image with me.  Look, I know you can do this-you are so talented and you have such a broad bandwidth. This is not an easy career, we’ve chosen.  People see the photo shoots and the bloopers, the interviews and the red carpet.  It looks so easy when they’re in the theater stuffing their faces with popcorn.  We know it requires the constant firing of every synapse in our bodies through grueling days, weaving so much detail together on the spot, and adjusting to constant changes-set, wardrobe, spacing, lines. Plus, we have to tap into the deepest emotional parts of ourselves and our characters constantly.  Remember: We had challenges on BoRhap.  Sure now, we remember the glory and the fun – but there were tough times and we got through them.” Joe said.

 Joe stopped talking.  Ben nodded into his neck. He felt Ben heard him. His crying softened.  Joe held him tightly and Ben leaned into Joe between his legs, wrapping his arms around Joe.  And with that embrace, the rest of the world fell away for Joe-the trip, his agent, his family, his next projects, his home.  All of it just faded out of focus.  None of it mattered.  Only Ben mattered.

Ben pulled away, taking a deep breath that coiled through his body.  “I’m sorry.  I know this isn’t what you signed up for when you thought ‘Great, let me visit Ben in Belfast as part of my European holiday.’ You didn’t think you’d find a blubbering, wrecked mess.”  He wiped his nose on his sleeve.

Joe gazed at him.  “I just wanted to be with you.” Ben’s swallowed deeply. Joe continued,  “I feel like I’m always planning, trying to map out every part of my life.  I’m always on my way to something new. But it doesn't matter, cause no matter where I go, every road just seems to lead me back to you.  You’re the one I still want beside me.” (3)

They’re eyes locked, as they held each other’s arms.

Suddenly,  Ben’s phone pinged and he broke from Joe to grab it off the kitchen table. “I have to be on set tomorrow at 11:00 a.m.”

“Good,” Said Joe.  “You can sleep in.” Joe stood up  “It’s late.  We should hit the hay. I can just set up camp here.” He said, as he moved a tattered throw pillow to the arm of the couch.

“No,” Ben said, “Share the bed with me.  Come on, you did it with Cardy B.  Don’t make me jealous.”

They both laughed and moved to the back of the flat.

Joe cleaned up in the kitchen while Ben did his evening ablutions and got into bed. Joe grabbed his bag from the living room, prepared for bed and joined him soon after.

“Goodnight, Ben.  Sleep well.”  Joe said, as he settled into the soft bed and pillow.

 Ben turned to look at Joe.  “Goodnight, Joe. And thanks. Thanks for listening and calming me down.  And for helping me focus.  You have no idea how much it helped. I’m going to remember what you said.   I feel like I might finally get a real night’s sleep. Finally.”

Joe smiled.  “Of course.  Glad I could help.” He thought about the advice he gave to Ben and realized it could apply to him too.  He has it in him to deal with whatever happens-and he’ll get to the other side of it too.  

They drifted off to sleep.  Joe awoke in the middle of night, aware of movement beside him. Ben was rolling a bit and mumbling to himself.  “Get to the other side….”

“You ok, Ben?”  Joe asked him softy.

Ben didn’t respond, clearly asleep. Suddenly he rolled toward Joe and put his arm around him and spooned into him.  “I love you.” Ben mumbled.

Joe leaned back against him.  “And I.love.you.back.” he whispered.

SONG NOTES

(1)   Days of Our Lives, Queen

(2)   We are Young, Janelle Monáe

(3)   Every Road Leads Back to You, Bette Midler

[omfgtrump]

Green-a-Lago

Don’t you just love the fact that The Don is contemplating purchasing Greenland from Denmark? Dreams of golf courses and a place where he truly could be king! They could call it Greenlandia or better yet, Green-a-Lago.

I know you are thinking that with all the crazy shit going on, who has time to think about Greenland?

It’s not so unprecedented for the U.S to buy places. We bought Alaska from Russia for 7.2 million dollars; and then there is the Louisiana Purchase. The purchased territory included the whole of today’s Arkansas, Iowa, Missouri, Kansas, Oklahoma, and Nebraska, parts of Minnesota and Louisiana west of Mississippi River, including New Orleans, big parts of North and northeastern New Mexico, South Dakota, northern Texas, some parts of Wyoming, Montana, and Colorado. All for a mere $15 million dollars. That’s less than some apartments in Manhattan cost. Now that is the “Art of the Deal.”

Remember Sarah Palin’s famous line about the advantages of living in Alaska: that it allowed her “to see Russia from her house!”

Given the tension between our two nations over the years, it turns out to be a really important purchase, right?

But given The Don and Moscow Mitch’s love of Putin, there are rumors that the two Russophiles, who are doing nothing to stop Russia from interfering in our elections, are considering selling Alaska back to the Russians. That would mean that not only could you “see Russia from your house,” but now Russians will be living in your house! In return, Putin would give The Don free reign to finally build Trump Tower in Moscow.

The Don’s antics regarding Russia are well documented and exemplified by the Helsinki moment, where he sided with Putin’s word over his own intelligence community during a press conference.

Moscow Mitch until recently, has been a silent colluder in The Don’s Putin affair, but recently decided it was ok to come out of hiding by blocking a bill from coming to the Senate floor that would increase spending on protecting our elections.

So what a surprise it was to hear that Oleg Derepaska is investing $200 million dollars in Kentucky manufacturing. Does the name Oleg Derapaska ring a bell? Derepaska, the man Paul Manafort owed millions to, who offered to give Derapaska access to the president to make things “clear.”

And when was the announcement of the investment made? Two days after McConnell blocked a bill from coming to the floor of the Senate that would have fortified our ability to block Russia from influencing the elections.*

So not only will Russia be in Alaska’s house, but Kentuckians better get used to having their barbeque  in vodka sauce.

But I do digress, as I was talking about The Don’s musings about buying Greenland.

There are so many ways to think about what this would mean.

The Don seems excited about the natural resources there.

The resources have been difficult to get at because Greenland is 80% ice. According to The Don, all the work he and his cronies are doing to deny climate change will have that ice melted in no time. When one of his science buddies showed him a story about an glacier melting in Iceland, his eyes lit up and said get me the King of Denmark immediately.

Stephen Miller, his demonic immigration man, floated the idea of shipping all the illegals there. It would be a humanitarian move said Miller: Those people wouldn’t have to be in cages any more and they could even keep their babies. You would be hailed as a hero. And we can throw in a life- time supply of water boots (from the melting of the ice) and paper towels. The people of Puerto Rico are still talking about the empathy and generosity you showed when you visited and threw paper towels at them to help clean up the mess from the hurricane.

In addition, Miller told The Don that if people in Greenland didn’t want to share their space with those people, they would be granted immediate U.S. citizenship, because you know, they are kind of from Denmark. Yuck. Yuck. Yuck.

Oh and we can create a special place for Tlaib, Omar and the rest of the squad. A special kind of palace that Bibi says he would be glad to build. He has a lot of practice doing things like that. Just ask the Palestinians as they just love living under Apartheid!

And then there are the endangered species. This past week Department of The Interior  announced a set of rules that will weaken how the nation’s most important conservation law, the Endangered Species Act, is applied.

An official from the Department of Interior supposedly is selling the idea that The Don can be a hero by creating a modern Noah’s Ark  and shipping off all the endangered species to Greenland, thus saving them from extinction.

The Don is also very excited about making Green-a-Lago the vacation getaway for demagogues.

There will be a golf tournament like no other. The Don will take mulligan after mulligan and his fellow demagogues will sing his praises and he will feel loved, loved, loved. They will thank him for making America great by leaving the rest of the world alone so they can make their countries great as well. Modi will thank him for saying nothing about India’s putting the Kashmiri people under house arrest; Xi will thank him for saying little to support the democratic protests in China, Kim will hand him a new love letter and thank him for laughing off his missile testing because of their great relationship; and Putin well…

So welcome to Green-a-Lago!

“Welcome to Green-a-Lago!”

https://www.washingtonpost.com/opinions/mcconnells-new-posture-toward-moscow/2019/08/02/a3b5a080-b53f-11e9-951e-de024209545d_story.html

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[womanlalaboy]

Womanlalaboy's Travel Guide to Batulao

SUMMARY

Elevation: 811+ MASL Jump- off: Evercrest Golf Course, Nasugbu Days / hours to summit: 1 day / 2-4 hours Climb: Minor Difficulty: 4/9 Trail class: 3 with 60-70 degrees assault Features: Open trails, rolling slopes, scenic views of Batangas

Type of Travel: DIY Date of Travel: most recent is Feb. 2019 Duration: 1D Budget: P 600 - P 700

Batangas sure is rich in natural treasures- from beaches to waterfalls to history and culture, and to mountains that are clamored about by most climbing enthusiasts. A day or two wouldn’t be enough to sample everything Batangas has to offer, but climbing Batulao can somehow give you a glimpse of what paradise is.

Batulao is my first official climb, but we were welcomed by a typhoon during our first time hiking, so we vowed to come back on a sunny day and witness the majestic views of Batangas landscape. Our most recent climb was Feb. this year during the long weekends. There were over a thousand climbers that time and we’ve watched how the paths crumble with every step. It was concerning to see that much people in a hike that’s supposed to give you a moment to breathe and contemplate life. I’ll publish a separate write up for the environmental impact of over- commercializing places like Batulao. For now, we’ll focus on how you can get around hiking this beautiful mountain, but please to avoid doing your hike on weekends and during holidays.

ITINERARY

5:30 AM - Meet up at Pala-pala terminal 7:45 AM - ETA Evercrest 8:00 AM - ETA trail head 8:30 AM - Start Trek 11:00 AM - Summit 12:00 PM - Start Descent 2:00 PM - ETA trail head. Lunch 5:00 PM - ETA Pala-pala terminal 6:00 PM - Imus

From Manila, it will only take about 3-4 hours to reach Batangas and you wouldn’t need to transfer from one bus to another so basically, it’s not that hard to get to Batulao and you wouldn’t need to worry so much about the travel time unless it’s around holidays and long weekends. If you will do a DIY hike, you’ll have to endure the Manila traffic. Since buses will have to take E. Aguinaldo Highway, you’ll have to pass through traffic prone areas like Bacoor, Dasmariñas and Tagaytay. It’s still best to allow an allowance of another hour for this case.

HOW TO GET THERE

Commute from Manila: Board any bus bus liners bound for Nasugbu, Batangas from EDSA, Quezon City, Taft Avenue, Pasay and in Cubao. Drop off at  Evercrest Golf Course and ride a tricycle or walk to get to the trail head. DLTB bus bound for Nasugbu in Buendia Station costs around P 111.

Commute from Bacoor or Imus, Cavite: Ride any bus bound for Nasugbu, Batangas. The bus liners are usually found along Emilio Aguinaldo High way from Waltermart Dasmariñas as well as from Silang. You can also ride a van from Pala-pala Terminal.

You can simply tell the bus driver or conductor to drop you off at Evercrest or just inform them that you’re off to Batulao. From Evercrest, you can either walk your way to the trail head or hail a tricycle for P 100 per way (good for 4 pax).

Private car via Emilio Aguinaldo High way: You will have to pass through Imus, Dasmariñas, and Silang. Simply continue til you reach Batangas-Cavite boundary. Take the road marked by an arc, leading to Nasugbu, Batangas

Private car via SLEX: take Sta. Rosa Exit and continue driving along Sta. Rosa-Tagaytay Road. When you hit a fork, you’ve reached the Batangas-Cavite boundary. Take the right road marked by an arc, leading to Nasugbu, Batangas.

Private car via CAVITEX: Drive along Antero Soriano Highway. You will pass through Kawit, Tanza, Naic, and Ternate then drive through Mt. Palay Palay National Park and Kaibiang Tunnel to reach Barangay Papaya and then Barangay Calayo and Nasugbu town proper.

Private car from Alabang: Take Daang Hari, turn left to Paliparan, right to the junction leading to Carmona, left to Aguinaldo Highway up to Tagaytay junction leading to Nasugbu. Another option is to Take Daang Hari, continue on Daang Hari extension past the dikes, turn left at the end and go towards the San Miguel and Purefoods plants along Governors Drive. Turn right when you reach Governors Drive and continue until you reach Naic, then turn left and on to Puerto Azul, Caylabne.

OTHER POINTS OF INTEREST

Some experienced climbers do more than just hiking Batulao. Batangas is rich in mountains to climb, so some hike one or two other mountains apart from Batulao. 3 of the nearest mountains that can be a part of a probable twin hike or trilogy hike are Mt. Talamitam, Mt. Apayang and Mt. Pico De Loro.

Mt. Talamitam

Jump-off point: Sitio Bayabasan, Brgy. Aga, Nasugbu (KM. 83) LLA: 14.1158° N; 120.7577° N; 630 MASL Days required/ Hours to summit: 1 day / 1.5-2.2 hours Specs: Minor climb, Difficulty 3/9, Trail class 1-3 with steep assault (100m)

Layon Bilog / Layong Bato

This area can be found at the foot of Mt. Talamitam (considered as Mt. Batulao’s “little sister”). You can wash up by the river or do rappelling, but whichever you prefer to do, you’ll surely enjoy this sight.

Mt. Apayang

Mataas na Pulo, Nasugbu, Batangas 700+ MASL (Approximate) Specs: Minor Climb

Mt. Pico De Loro

Maragondon, Cavite and Nasugbu, Batangas Major jump-off: DENR Station, Magnetic Hill, Ternate, Cavite Minor jump-off: Sitio Fronda, Brgy. Papaya, Ternate-Nasugbu Highway, Nasugbu, Batangas LLA: 14° 12.855 N; 120° 38.785 E; 664 MASL Days required / Hours to summit: 1-2 days / 2-5 hours Specs: Minor climb, Difficulty 3/9, Trail class 1-3 Features: Distinctive spire at the summit, forests, scenic views of Cavite Last updated: September 16, 2016

SAMPLE BUDGET

138 - Bus transportation from Pala-pala to Nasugbu and vice versa 50 - Tricycle fare back and forth (P 100 for 4 pax) 160 - Registration 100 - Guide fee per head for 5 pax (500 / guide) 50 - Batangas Lomi

___________________________________

498/head of 5 pax

Batulao is one of the most accessible mountains to hike. Due to its proximity to the metro, it’s considered a favorite among city folks who want to escape the gritty streets of Manila, but despite its fame, Batulao still is far from being perfect. For one, the water is scarce in the place and during peak season, they usually run out of water. We’ve encountered that during our last hike so instead of taking a bath, we settled to washing with wet towels before changing clothes. The bath fee at the trail head would cost P 25 per pail (timba/balde). If you need to take a piss or answer nature’s call, you’d have to pay P 10. 

Another thing to take into consideration is the registration fee. Unlike most climbs, the registration for Batulao would have to take at several occasions. P 30/head (1st Registration); P 30/head (2nd Registration); P 20/head (3rd Registration); P 20/head (4th Registration); P 20/head (5th Registration); P 20/head (6th Registration); P 20/head (7th Registration).

There are refreshments and meals available at the stops and camps, but I advise that we do not patronize these. With the increasing demand for convenient food and drinks, we also raise the environmental impact of consuming these goods. The same goes for souvenirs such as bag tags. In the next few years, it wouldn’t be as fun and as magical to climb Batulao if instead of being accompanied by luscious green trees and plants, we’ll be trekking a mountain of trash.

WHAT TO BRING

Packed lunch (advised)

Med Kit/ Personal medicines

Raincoat when necessary

Extra clothes

At least 2 liters of water

Whistle

Trash Bag

Toiletries (esp. alcohol)

Trail food (energy bars, peanuts, chocolates, banana, salt)

Sunblock

Cap

Headlamp when necessary

Gloves (not required)

Trekking pole (advised when it’s raining)

Handkerchief / scarf (advised)

NOTES

No reservation is required to climb Mt. Batulao.

A large number of tourists swarm the place during weekends especially during long weekends or holidays. Avoid doing the hike during those days.

Sun exposure is notoriously acute when dry. Apply plentiful of sunblock whenever needed.

You’ll have to pass through tall grass lands so it’s better to be well-covered to avoid cuts and skin irritation.

While hiking, wear quick dry clothes and stay away from cotton fabrics and denim pants since you will be sweating profusely during the climb.

Wear a pair of hiking shoes when you climb Batulao during rainy days. The mountain can be very muddy, and hiking sandals can be hard to deal with at times like this.

Guides are required to hike Batulao with a ratio of 1 guide to 7 hikers.

There are 2 trails to choose from (old and new). However, you can talk to your guide to see if you can hike half with each trail.

If you want to stay overnight, you can pitch your tent at the designated camping sites. The guide fee, though would be P 1000 for an overnight stay. Tent rentals are also available at the registration area, but if you want to help lessen our environmental impact, opt to do a day hike instead.

Shower rooms are available at certain camps as well as at the trail head.

Water is scarce in the area so they require a fee whenever you use their toilet. At the registration area, you can take a bath for P 25/pail (timba/balde), and you can use their toilet for P 10.

Refreshments are available at stops and camps, but to avoid our environmental impact, it’s best to avoid those.

LEAVE NO TRACE (LNT): Kill nothing but time, take nothing but pictures, leave nothing but footprints.

MORE...

Also see: Batulao Revenge Hike photo sets Also read: Panhik #2: Braving Batulao Also read: Womanlalaboy’s Travel Guide to Gulugod Baboy

[carleencl]

📍✈️Traveling to Bali: Part 1 - Ubud (Day 1 & 2)

Bali, Indonesia - an island known for its good food, religious sites for its temples, beaches, a shopping destination, and more. I was thrilled when my friends and I decided to visit Bali since I love learning other country's culture, little bit of history, and seeing breathtaking places.

I’ll be sharing my Bali experience both in Ubud and Seminyak last November 21 - 27, 2018. This travel blog about Bali will be divided maybe into 3 to 4 posts since we have visited a handful of spots in Bali. I’m also planning to have a separate post for our itinerary and budget we had for Bali, Indonesia. I will also share my Bali trip vlog at the end of this post to better see what Bali has to offer.

Our flight from Manila to Bali was at 3:30am via Cebu Pacific. We arrived at Bali, Indonesia at around 8 in the morning. What I really love about early morning flights is that you can see the sunrise in a bird’s view and the clouds upclose. Just looking at the sunrise and clouds in this view just gives out a serene vibes.

Once we have arrived at Ngurah Rai International Airport, we went straight to the Immigration, get our luggage, and find Klook for our sim card/data.

Afterwards, we were looking for our driver for our entire stay at Bali. Hiring a driver at Bali was very very convenient since transportation were mostly motorcycles, and taxis. It will also lessen the chance that you would be spending more when hiring a driver. Our driver, Jo, was recommended by my colleague. Jo was very kind and also became our guide the entire trip. He would suggest a lot of tourist spots and places to visit, and also would recommend the places to go for a certain day to maximize our stay in Bali. He also brought us to restaurants that has amazing food.

DAY 1 November 21, 2018

KANDA VILLA

We had an early check-in at our Villa named, Kanda Villa, to leave our things and luggage so that we would be able to explore Ubud comfortably.

UMA PAKEL BALI SWING

First destination of our day 1 in Bali is in Uma Pakel Bali & Swing! This is not originally the swing we would want to try but Jo recommended this since this will have less people. Also, mostly all the swings are just the same.

The view at Uma Pakel was just so refreshing and makes your heart at peace. Entrance fee was IDR150,000 (PHP555).

Here, I am nesting. 🐣

It was actually terrifying to climb in and out of this one. 😅 The "nest" even wobbles when you move. But as what they always say, all for the photos! 📸

Literally just chilling and it seems I'm about to lay an egg. 🥚 😅

I think my stomach just turned upside down while trying the swing and screaming for my life. 😅 It felt as if I’m going to be thrown towards the trees during that time. 🤣 However, no regrets in trying the swing! I really do recommend to try it at least once.

TEBA SARI RESTO BAR - LOUNGE

For lunch, we ate at Teba Sari Restaurant Bar-Lounge. It is located just across/opposite of Uma Pakel Bali & Swing. This was our first meal at Bali and I’m loving the interiors of the restaurant.

Free appetizers were given to us! It was cassava chips with a spicy tomato dip and it was actually delicious.

I ordered their Ribs since I heard ribs in Bali is good (which was totally true!). The meals included a grilled marinated pork ribs, steamed rice, sautéed green beans-eggplant, chili sambal, and salad pickle. We all ordered Ginger Ale for a refreshing drink.

TEGALALANG RICE TERRACES

After having lunch, we visited the Tegalalang Rice Terraces. There was a minimal entrance fee of IDR15,000 (PHP55.50).

We actually didn’t stayed that long and explored the rice terraces since it was really hot that time.

We did a little shopping at Tegalalang Rice Terraces. The stores could be found exactly across the Rice Terraces.

If you have a short time in Bali and couldn’t visit the Ubud Art Market, I suggest you shop here instead. Prices were almost the same as the one in Ubud Art Market. We saw a rattan round bag which costs IDR90,000, same price as we saw in Ubud Art Market with the same style and quality.

TIRTA EMPUL TEMPLE

Last stop before calling it a day is at Tirta Empul Temple. Entrance fee was IDR50,000 (PHP185).

Before entering the temple, you will be asked to wear a sarong if you’re wearing shorts or a dress. Sarongs will be provided before you enter the temple without any charge. As for our case, we bought sarongs already at the shop near Tegalalang Rice Terraces for our convenience.

We actually didn’t know where to go since it was a little crowded and got “lost” upon exploring the temple.

Tirta Empul is known as a water temple. People go here to have a bath on its holy spring water to purify their souls from the sins they committed. It is a ritual for purification.

We didn’t took a dip since we don’t have any extra clothes and towel with us.

A place where they put their offerings.

Here’s another side of the temple.

We went to a grocery store after visiting Tirta Empul Temple. There we bought our dinner and water supply for our stay at Ubud. I think we spend around Php2000 for dinner, some snacks, drinks, and bottles of water.

DAY 2 November 22, 2018

KOPI DESA

One of the thing we were excited every morning was this hole in a wall restaurant near the place we are staying at. This humble restaurant/cafe is Kopi Desa. 😍

The place was aesthetically good and food was the best! We had our breakfast here for our entire stay at Ubud and I was also consistent to order their Nasi Goreng Ayam (fried rice) which was the best I’ve tasted until today. Nasi Goreng  Ayam is a meal including stir fried egg and chicken meat in small amount of cooking oil or margarine, typically spiced ith sweet soy sauce, shallot, garlic, tamarind, and chili. A meal costs IDR 28,000 (PHP 103.6).

My breakfast options were in different variations but it as a must that the fried rice was included in my meal like for the 1st day, it the fried rice with egg only, 2nd to 4th day were fried rice with Chicken Satay (Chicken BBQ). Plus, I have convinced my friends to order and try it - that’s how I really love it! 😂

THE BARONG & KRIS DANCE: JAMBE BUDAYA

1st on our itinerary was the Barong & Kris Dance: Jambe Budaya. It was a cultural dance and fee as IDR100,000 (PHP370) per person.

This is the overview of the story of the dance.

I really like the effort they put in showcasing the tourists their culture.

At the side were performers providing for the background music of the dance.

It was a good experience to see and watch a part of Indonesia’s culture knowing they are trying to preserve and show it to everyone.

GITGIT TWIN WATERFALL

In my vlog below, you would notice we were laughing about “Gitgit” because it sound’s like the line Jae of DAY6 says all the time, “Let’s get it!” Like get it = gitgit. 🤣 (We were still on PCD for DAY6 at that time).

There was en entrance fee of IDR20,000 (PHP74). They said it was used to preserve the walking pathway and help the unfortunate children to go to school. I think it was reasonable to pay the amount for the cause, also, the fee includes a tour guide.

It was trekking time for us! Doing trekking was another experience to be in nature - very refreshing! It was truly a breathe of fresh air for us.

Our tour guide said that it was good we went there early because it tend to be crowded during the afternoon.

We actually didn’t finish the whole trekking since it will take another 1-2 hours finishing it and another 1-2 hours in going back.

The waterfall was just so beautiful! The water was so clean and clear.

This is the small bridge to be able to go to the waterfall. I was actually a little scared in crossing cause it was a little slippery and I might fall into the water. 😅

BILLY’S LAKE VIEW RESTAURANT

Lunch at Billy’s Lake View Restaurant! We were already starving hence, the super lack of photos! This restaurant was near to our next destinations.

Food was alright and was in a buffet style. There were different options to choose from starting from soups, main course, and desserts. Taste-wise, food was ordinary. The buffet also included refillable ice tea. Lunch buffet at Billy’s Lake View Restaurant costs IDR 100,000 (PHP 370).

At the back was our view while having our lunch.

HANDARA GATE

The Handara Gate is literally a gate of a Golf Field. A fee was required to be able to take a photo with the gate consisting IDR30, 000 (PHP111). A little pricey for a photo in front of a Golf field gate, but for the sake of experience and memory to cherish, we just had to have a photo.

We actually need to look back and forth since there were cars and motorcycles passing through.

ULUN DANU BERATAN TEMPLE

Final stop for the day was the Ulun Danu Beratan Temple. Entrance fee costs IDR50, 000 (PHP185) per person.

Ulun Danu Temple is another water temple in Bali, Indonesia and is located in Beratan Lake.

It was actually very cold and windy when we visited the temple. It felt like we were in Tagaytay.

The temple is also known for it “floating” appearance when the water level is high. Too bad we came when the water level was low and wasn’t able to see its “floating effect.”

❤️

Below is a vlog on our adventures for day 1 and 2 in Bali. Feel free to watch it!

So that’s day 1 and 2 in Ubud, Bali, Indonesia! Next posts will still be about our stay in both Ubud and Seminyak, Bali.

Other blog post related to Bali below: 🔗 BALI DAYS 3 -5 BLOG POST 🔗 BALI DAYS 6 & 7 BLOG POST

*Conversion of IDR to PHP are rounded and used IDR 1 = PHP 0.0037

*If you’re going to Bali and needs a driver/transportation, I highly recommend our driver during our trip last year. If interested, you can message me through my social media accounts or e-mail me to know his contact number.

[me-myself-and-my-fos]

Navin Week Day 1: Thanksgiving

Pairing: Gavin Reed x Nic Blake

Summary: Nic goes on a trip down memory lane and brings Gavin with her

Word count: 2.2k+

From the moment they met, Gavin knew Nic didn’t get along with her family. He never met her parents, and didn’t push to unless she wanted him to. And from the start she made it clear that she was not in any way ashamed of him, but of her parents. When Nic moved to Detroit she only brought with her the memories she wanted, leaving behind practically her whole life. Sometimes Gavin felt guilty about this, and Nic would remind him she did it of her own free will. She hasn’t looked back since, so when she came to Gavin one afternoon and told him she wanted to visit her hometown for Thanksgiving, Gavin was taken by surprise. He loved his wife, he really did, but sometimes her ideas were questionable at best. But upon seeing the pleading look in her eyes, he agreed without question.

He took a week off from work since they’d be in Virginia Beach for a week. Nic seemed excited, she talked nearly nonstop on the flight about all of her old stomping grounds that she was going to take him to. The hotel they were staying at was right by the beach which Nic did purposely. By the time they landed she was practically vibrating in her seat. A taxi ride to the car rental office and they headed to unpack. It was much warmer than Gavin expected—he was only used to weather in Detroit. While it was still chilly, there was no snow which only slightly surprised him. By early November Detroit was normally covered in a thin layer of white but there was just a bitter cold that wrapped the city of Virginia.

Gavin noticed Nic’s driving was much better than it was in Detroit. He figured it had something to do with that she grew up on these streets and knew how native Virginians drove. The hotel was nice, Nic having booked them a room with a balcony that overlooked the beach (“We call it the Oceanfront, the Beach is the city. You’ll get used to the slang.” She explained as some point). It was only eleven in the morning so Nic eagerly requested that she drive him all the way to her favorite childhood bakery in the next city, Norfolk. It was at least an hour drive to said bakery, and upon arrival Nic was bouncing on her heels as she dragged him to the mud green, rusty exterior bakery with large words on the sign saying “The French Bakery”. His wife quickly explained how she had been going there since she was small and that she knew the owners almost personally. This reigned true as she opened the door, a small bell ringing and an older middle eastern gentleman coming from the back to greet the customers only to break out in a grin and calling Nic by an old name long forgotten. She smiled and once they reached the counter, she leaned over and hugged him as he exclaimed that it had been too long since her last visit. She introduced Gavin who was greeted just as warmly, however he felt out of place. Nic ordered two pastrami sandwiches along with a long list of desserts that Gavin knew would give them both stomach aches that night. In his opinion they spent too much money but the grin on his wife’s face made it worth it. As they drove back to their hotel, both eating their lunch and making a mess of the front seats, Nic went on to tell him how she was surprised to find the bakery still open and how she expected it be out of business. Gavin listened intensely, devouring his meal and coming to the conclusion that the expense was well spent.

They spent the afternoon unpacking and eating the desserts bought, and both went to bed with stomach aches. Nic said it was worth it.

The next morning Gavin woke up early and ordered room service, wanting to get an early start that day. Nic woke up at half past seven, and that was late in Nic’s opinion. She woke up to pancakes with blueberry syrup and a cup of coffee, and Gavin half soaked wearing nothing but a towel as he stepped out of the shower.

That day she took him to the golf course with a long winded story of how that exact golf course is where she had her seventh birthday party and she hadn’t played a game of golf since. Her inexperience showed as she lost the game, a score of 130 to Gavin’s 80. He still questioned how she managed to get such a high score on an 18 hole course. After the game they got lunch at one of the many restaurants that rested on the strip that was the Oceanfront. Many shops were closed, Nic telling him that they normally closed for the winter since there weren’t any tourists. Virginia was a tourist heavy spot during the summer, something Nic loathed in her youth. After lunch, Gavin was dragged to the many stores that stayed open. Some of them had useless souvenirs, others had neat collectibles or stones that seemed to interest Nic. She left Virginia at nineteen and coming back home after nearly a decade gave her a large wave of nostalgia. She wanted to show Gavin everything she enjoyed, although they only had a week which wasn’t enough time in her opinion.

That night, she dragged Gavin to her favorite barbecue restaurant. It was the best barbecue Gavin had in a while and he was disappointed that it’s so far away. He joked a bit that they’d have to fly down to Virginia again if he ever gets in the mood for barbecue. That night was the first time Gavin has also seen Nic so relaxed. She really seemed to be enjoying this trip on memory lane, focusing on all of the positives.

They went to bed that night in a pile of limbs as they cuddled, Gavin suggesting they come back again for her birthday.

The next few days were blurs as Nic dragged him to several different places, all of which held special places in her memory. At one point, Nic brought him to her old high school to visit her favorite World History teacher who happened to still be teaching at that school. They talked to the class, a mix of freshmen, sophomores, and juniors, with a lone senior. Some of students seemed to be fascinated with Nic, asking mostly questions about college and studying advice since she had been in their exact spot. She was disappointed when it was time to leave, but she managed to catch her old English teacher as well last minute as they were leaving campus. He told her about the Holiday Thrift Shop the school held every year about Thanksgiving. Nic insisted to Gavin they go before leaving for Detroit. They did go, buying some trinkets such as healing rings that Nic insisted on using for her wrists.

The second to last of their trip was Thanksgiving Day, and Nic has something special planned for them. She drove them out for two hours, not bothering to tell Gavin where they were headed. The moment Gavin notices the sign with the word “cemetery” in it, he had a good feeling what was going on. They parked in the loop, walked through the crunchy, frost covered grass down rows and rows of gravestones. They finally arrived at the gravestone with two familiar names and dates. Those names and dates were tattooed on Nic’s forearm.

With hands stuffed in her pockets, Nic spoke quietly. “Hey grandma, hey grandpa.” She smiled softly, and Gavin saw tears forming in the corners of her eyes. “I know it’s been a long time… too long, honestly. But I didn’t forget about you. I didn’t forget about where I came from. I just needed a chance to find me.” She shrugged, giving a teary smile to the grave. “I found her. I had to lose a lot of family on the journey but… I think it was worth it. Besides, they wouldn’t like who I am now anyways. I know you two would though. Yeah, you were always proud of me no matter what.” Nic looked over at Gavin and held out her hand to him. He took it, tangling their fingers together as he rubbed his thumb over her wedding ring. “I want y’all to meet someone.” Gavin almost laughed. Her accent had gotten stronger since being there. “This is my husband, Gavin. He’s really good to me, and I love him a lot. I know if given the chance, y’all would have loved him too.”

He cleared his throat, not wanting to intrude in the moment but feeling the need to speak. “I promise I’ll take care of her.” He brought her hand up and kissed it. “Always.”

On the way back from the cemetery, Nic stopped by a small family owned diner. She ate there every time she would visit her grandparents’ grave and got to know the family that owned it. It originally owned by a lovely old woman named Ruth, and her husband. They have children, and two of their daughters worked in the diner alongside their parents. After the passing of Ruth and her husband, their oldest daughter took over the diner along with her sister, now both sisters and their children ran it. To say the diner was family friendly was an understatement. Nic insisted that Gavin get the clam chowder, her favorite soup of all time. He enjoyed it a lot more than he expected.

That evening, they went to the gift shop on the boardwalk and got some fudge. Nic got it every time she went to the Oceanfront and stated that it was the last thing she ate before leaving Virginia. She got half a pound of her favorite dark chocolate caramel sea salt fudge. Gavin got a pound which gave him the option to pick four different flavors. He picked peanut butter, red velvet, chocolate pecan, and white chocolate. The fudge ended up being their dinner, once again giving the couple stomach aches to nurse for the night.

Their last day was more intimate. They spent a good portion of it in the hotel room, watching tv on the crappy hotel television and listening to the waves. Come afternoon, Nic went out to the beach to have a walk. She was barefoot and in shorts, walking in the shallow part of the ocean where the water barely reached her ankles. Gavin joined her after a few moments, not wanting her to experience this alone. Hand in hand, they walked the length of the beach and back in comfortable silence. The waves and the cawing of crows and hooting of pigeons filled their silence. They watched the sunset, night blanketing the earth and making the air too chilly for their liking. They went back inside the hotel, opting to take a nice warm shower to combat the cool air.

Gavin sat on the bed, flipping through channels with the remote in an effort to fight off the boredom gnawing at his mind as he waited for her to get out. God, he thought, she always takes the longest showers. When Nic finally did, pajamas on and hair still soaked despite ten minutes of drying it, she sat down in front of Gavin, smiling softly. He shut off the tv.

“Thank you for doing this,” she said, taking one of his hands in hers and playing with his scarred, calloused fingers.

“It’s no problem,” he replied. “I had a lot of fun.” There was a pause. “If you ever want to do this again, just let me know. I’ll take off and we can fly down, whether just for a day or a week, or a month…”

Nic snorted. “I cannot stay for a whole month. I would go insane. Virginia gets pretty boring after a while.”

“With the places you took me, hardly seems like there’s a dull moment.”

She pressed a kiss to his knuckles. “Yeah well, I took you to the fun places.” Her smile dropped as fell into deep thought.

Gavin knew that look. “Uh oh. What’s wrong?”

“Just…” she sighed, going back to playing with his fingers, “thinking.”

“About what?”

“I’m not gonna lie, when I planned this trip… I wanted you to meet my parents.”

“Nico–”

“I decided against it on the flight here. I realized, I should focus on the things that make me happy, like you and fudge and buying stupid souvenirs that we are never going to look at again.” She laughed, and Gavin laughed with her. “The positive memories are what made me come back, the negative ones should stay in the past.”

“I know you tell me how happy I make you, and I don’t doubt you about it, but…” Gavin tried to think of the right words. He never was a words guy. Hell, Abby helped him with his vows. But Nic didn’t marry him for his words. He continued, “But this is the happiest I’ve seen you in a long time. Your smile? I haven’t seen that one since our wedding day. So, once I saw that smile that you only break out for the purest moments, I knew this would be good for you.”

Nic tackles him onto the bed, her chin resting on his chest. “You’re so sappy.”

“Only for you.”

“I know.” She grinned. “I love you.”

“I love you too, nerd.”

[slapshot-to-the-heart]

Need the Sun to Break

Here’s part III of the Chaos and the Calm series! I’m absolutely falling in love with Harry and Alex, and I hope you are too. Please come in and talk to me about it, and ideas, predictions, feedback you might have- I don’t bite and I love hearing from you all!

Need the Sun to Break

October 2018

Back of the room/How come my friends already know you?/I feel like a kid/Too shy to speak up so I keep it hid

Harry’s eyes darted across the room, hoping to catch a glimpse of Alex. She had arrived at his house a few hours prior, but they hadn’t been together for a bit. Nobody really knew they were dating yet; things were so early that they had decided to hold off on announcing things for a little while. That being said, Harry wasn’t so confident he wouldn’t let things slip accidentally if someone asked him. He was so proud and excited to finally be able to call her his, but he respected that she wanted to take things slow. He had told her that things were going to move at her pace, and he wasn’t about to break that promise. So naturally, he was thrilled to see Alex engaged in what seemed like a fascinating conversation with Clare. It was the first time they had met— Clare was usually back home in Britain— but the two were already acting like old friends, and for that Harry was eternally grateful. When hearing that she and a few of his friends that worked at the label were in New York for some event or another— he thinks he heard something about a Beyoncé concert— he had jumped at the chance to host them at his house. He had been a bit apprehensive about inviting Alex over, not really for any other reason other than the fact that she wasn’t going to know too many of the attendees. She knew Julia, obviously, and by extension Matt, but other than the two of them, she was kind of at a loss for people to talk to.

Seeing her get along with his friends was endlessly relieving for Harry. Seeing Alex slightly tipsy with his friends, spilling part of her drink on herself then laughing while mopping it up only made him fall for her more. When she got up to go get a napkin to sop up her dress, he followed her into his kitchen. Smirking slightly, Harry leaned against the entryway for a moment while he watched her open and close no less than six drawers in her quest for a napkin, or a paper towel, or what, Harry wasn’t entirely sure.

“Where is that blasted towel…” Alex muttered, turning around and spotting Harry.

He walked over to the oven, where a towel hung on the door handle. “Looking for one of these, love?”

Alex shot him a nasty look, plucking the towel out from his hand, walking over to the sink, and running part of it under some water before blotting her dress. Harry had always loved green on her, said it brought out her eyes. “Y’know, Alex, you were drinking Chardonnay. I don’t think it’ll stain too bad.”

She rolled her eyes. “Yeah. I mean, I figured. Better safe than sorry though, you know? Wouldn’t want to wake up tomorrow and find a massive stain on it.”

Harry nodded. “Yeah, that makes sense. I’m glad to see you’re getting on so well with my friends.” He added, holding one of her hands gently in his.

“Clare’s an angel.” Alex blushed. “It’d practically be a sin to not like her.”

I need the sun to break/You've woken up my heart/I'm shaking, oh/My luck could change

He chuckled. “Yeah, you’re not wrong there.” As Alex leaned up against the bar, picking at a loose thread on her sleeve, Harry realized just how much his life had changed in the past month. He was falling for her even more than he thought possible, and it terrified him. He had never felt the way he felt about Alex with anyone else, and he had never let anyone in the same way he longed to let her in. Seeing her so completely at ease, talking to his friends that were becoming hers, with her hair up in high ponytail and barely a trace of makeup on her face, gave him pause. Made him think of how long he had wanted her to be his. Made him remember the night he realized he had fallen in love with her.

...

The £3 bottle of rosé long since drank and the sun long since set, Harry turned over on the old quilt to look at Alex. She was in that strange liminal stage of sleep; he wasn’t sure she’d hear him if he talked to her, but didn’t want to take chances. They had fallen asleep in the meadow like so many times before, from the time they were kids and their parents would frantically search for their whereabouts to the night before he left for the X-Factor to now, both of them 22 years old with their entire lives ahead of them. What would our 10-year-old selves think, Harry mused, if they could see where we were now? After a few moments of pondering, Harry didn’t think that their younger selves would actually be all that surprised. Him, maybe. But Alex had always had nothing but complete and utter faith in him and his music, and he always knew that her designs would take her as far as she wanted to go, even when they were sixteen and she was photoshopping his face onto Justin Timberlake’s body. She was just about to start a job at a new firm in London, and he was leaving the next afternoon— this afternoon, Harry thought with a grimace — to America to begin writing for his solo album.

The two of them had fallen asleep sometime a little past one o’clock, and Harry noted with a cursory glance at his watch that it was nearing five. Alex looked so peaceful on the blanket, and Harry had to stop himself from tucking a stray piece of hair that had fallen in front of her face behind her ear. It hit him like a ton of bricks right as the sun peeked over the horizon, and Harry knew that he was well and truly fucked. He realized that he was in love with his best friend as the light hit her face just right,. He had never known that her hair looked so red in the sunlight. Then again, he had never known that he was in love with his best friend until a few moments ago. His breath caught in his throat. Shit.

...

Been in the dark for weeks and I've realized you're all I need/I hope that I'm not too late

Ever since Alex had come back into his life, she had turned his world upside-down. He had stopped himself from telling her how he felt countless times, fearing the worst possible reaction. And God, had it been hard. So it was incredibly paradoxical that now that Alex was finally his, his was more terrified than ever about his feelings. Alex knew that he cared about her; he hoped that much was obvious. What she might not have known was just how deeply he fallen in love with her. He hadn’t said it yet, and it was eating him alive. He was committed to what he promised her, however, and wasn’t going to move anything forward until she was ready. As he leaned up against the counter, holding a still-empty tumbler that once upon a time had held a scotch straight, he realized a simple truth. Something had brought them together that May night, in the exact time and place and space where they needed to be. Whether that was God, the universe, whatever, Harry didn’t know. What he did know was that it no longer mattered that he had been pining for her, and that she didn’t know just how deeply his feelings ran. The only thing that mattered, the only thing that held any kind of significance for him as far as Alex or anything else was concerned, was that they were together. They were together, and they were happy, and how fast or slow their relationship went was all for naught as long as that remained true.

Interrupting his thoughts, Clare came over to wish the two good night, leaving Alex with a tight hug, a new contact in her phone, and a promise to meet for coffee later in the week. After she left, the two moved to a slightly more quiet and secluded spot, settling on a pair of plump chaises in an alcove off of the main living room.

“Did you get the chance to talk to anyone else?” Harry asked. Clare was wonderful, but the last thing Harry wanted was for her to be stuck feeling isolated from the group with only one or two friends that she could rely on.

Alex nodded. “Yeah, I had a pretty… animated conversation with Ella and James a few hours ago,” she said carefully, giving a small smile. “Took the mick out of me for being a Liverpool supporter, but they’re alright other than that. Got to talk to Lia before she left, think she said there’s an early meeting she’s got to be at tomorrow.” Taking a peek out of their small refuge, Harry noticed that the number of guests had indeed started to dwindle.

The party was winding down, guests had been tricking out for the last twenty or so minutes, and somewhere in the midst of his conversation with Alex the playlist had been switched from classic rock to nothing but Abba— not that he was complaining.

“I should probably get going,” Alex murmured in his ear, timidly squeezing his hand with a gentle smile. “It’s a Sunday and I have to be at work by eight.”

Harry nodded. “‘F course, love. Stay safe, text me when you get back, okay?” Alex lived nearly an hour’s subway ride away, and Harry had never been too fond of her having to travel so far, particularly so late at night. Her apartment building was fairly safe, but the surrounding area had been subject to a string of muggings in the last few weeks which had caused him a fair bit of worry.

“Of course.” Taking a quick glance to be sure they were free from prying eyes, Alex leaned in to give Harry a quick kiss on the cheek.

Oh, butterflies/You steal my sleep each night

As the clock struck three in the morning, Harry woke with a start. The few hours of sleep he had gotten had been fitful, and no amount of laying in bed or cups of tea seemed to help. With a dissatisfied grunt, Harry swung his legs over the side of his bed, pushed himself up, and padded out to the living room. Clicking on the TV, Harry flipped through channels, rolling his eyes when he was that all that was on was reruns of the Great British Bake Off and golf. Bake Off it is, he thought. Ever since Alex left, she had been on his mind. Not in the worrisome, slightly-crazy ‘I can’t stop thinking about her and I need her to be with me 24/7 way,’ in the ‘I’m so in love with this woman and it scares the shit out of me’ way.

Things were going so well as a couple, Harry couldn’t help but grow worried. Things were going so well that he began to question everything. He had never felt this content in any of his former relationships, never this assured or confident or certain. And that’s what scared him. Things were going so well that Harry thought it was inevitable that something would go wrong, that things would crash and burn before they even had a chance to learn what it meant to be a them. He was so worried about how things would turn out, so worried about their relationship, because he had never felt this way about someone before. Harry had had girlfriends before. Plenty of them, in fact, Harry grumbled, remembering the days when he could scarcely go for a walk with a woman for fear of her being deemed his ‘next conquest.’ He might have even loved one or two of them. That wasn’t the issue. He had never fallen so hard for anyone before, had never felt same way around anyone before, and he had never felt like he had so much to lose. God forbid anything went wrong, Harry stood to lose not only the love of his life, but his best friend. Stop thinking like that, he tried to beat into his head. Don’t make something out of nothing. Rationally, he knew that there were no real reasons to perpetually be stuck in a ‘worst-case-scenario’ mindset, but he was finding it difficult to dig himself out of it.

I'm halfway gone/Sleepless, I'm battle worn/And you're all I want/ So bring me the dawn

Taking a deep breath, Harry looked down at his hands, the same ones that had held hers only hours before. He didn’t need anyone else to tell him how his relationship ‘should’ or ‘shouldn’t’ work. It was only him and Alex. It had always been him and Alex, ever since they met in primary doing the Year 5 musical. Peter Pan had left something to be desired in terms of quality, but what it had accomplished was a friendship that Harry had cherished ever since his days in green tights. Harry didn’t know how their relationship would turn out. That wasn’t up to him. He could continue to love Alex, keeping their happiness at the center of every decision he made.  He was weary from overthinking and weary from outside opinions, but he knew that the only thing he could reply on was the love he had for Alex and the hope of everything to come.