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timothy-chamlet · 4 years ago

Text

the afterparty - t.c. fanfic

pair: timmy x female reader

warnings: unprotected sex, general smut

word count: 2.6k (2640)

a//n: ok er ive never written for timmy before so im nervous snsvsj but if you read it tell me what u think !! <3

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people often thought the two of you were dating. paparazzi tended to make it look that way through press. despite all the candid photos of you and timothée plastered in magazine spreads and floating around on blogs, he would tell people you weren't together. interviewers would ask, and time again he would put an end to the rumor by saying you weren't dating, you were just friends.

to be fair, you honestly couldn't even be mad at him. it was a good marketing tactic, at least. if all the girls knew he was single they'd still be invested in the persona of a young, attractive starlet that - despite his more than desirable qualities - is still single. genius. meanwhile you were being his best friend and his trophy for award shows.

it was growing on you though. you enjoyed walking red carpet events and going to extravagant parties and meeting big names in the industry. it was really a win-win for both of you.

another one of those win-win situations was tonight. the past three days had been crazy. hair appointments, nail appointments, dress fittings, photoshoots, brunches, and dinners. running each new day on an hour of sleep - maybe two if you were lucky. fueled by energy drinks and the promise of rest after the event. showing up to an awards ceremony on nothing more than a 20 minute nap and a double shot espresso. being timothée's showpiece was exhausting. but it was good for you.

you had just finished your last consultation for dress fittings and were on your way to your styling appointment. the dress would arrive shortly after you so everything was ready to go. things were set for timothée to meet you there in an hour or so, after his own styling.

currently you're getting your makeup done. a swarm of professionals all around you, handing products, giving directions, telling you how gorgeous you look, at least three hands on you at all times. after almost an hour all the disembodied hands move from your face to reveal the *almost* finished product. you still need your hair done, but your face was flawless. your skin was insanely smooth; not a pore in sight, your lids were a bronze shade, and your lips were a perfect nude.

a hair stylist soon steps into view, also admiring your makeup before diving into your hair. it was simple. a slicked back ponytail is all, careful not to draw away from your face and your dress.

the strong aroma of hairspray clouds you as you maneuver to step into your dress. stripped of your previous clothes, you step into your dress and a couple people help you pull it up. the woman attending to the supper in the back steps away for a moment, seeming to answer a question.

"what's his name?" she asks into her ear piece. "uh yes. she's in here with me. send him in."

she returns behind you and does up the zipper to your dress. to your surprise, you see timothée waltz in the room. dressed in a charcoal gray suit with a light lavender button up underneath. "y/n," he exhales, walking towards you. "you look breathtaking, ma chérie."

"you don't look too bad yourself, timmy," you say, stepping down from your pedestal to be almost eye level with him.

"is she done here?" he asks everyone around without taking his eyes off you.

one of the women there swoops in with a pair of shoes and says, "slip in to these and you're ready to go, darling."

you step into your shoes and link arms with timothée. "carriage awaits," he says as the two of you get escorted to the limo.

once inside you let out a deep breath you didn't know you were holding. "you okay?" he asks from beside you.

"yeah, just.. tired."

he chuckles and drops his head. "absolutely exhausted." you two had similarly scheduled days so he knows exactly how you feel. "don't worry, mon amour, i'll have you home in about 8 hours."

"i thought the awards show was only 4-"

"there's always the afterparty.."

you audibly groan and drop your head as timothée places a reassuring hand on your knee.

"we're here," he says with fake enthusiasm as the limo pulls up to the event. the past 45 minutes felt like hours as your head began to pound from the lack of sleep. yet, lucky you, 45 minutes in l.a. traffic was a miracle.

the two of you step out into the scene. flashing lights from camera flickers, the general buzz of the crowd, people you knew trying to get your attention, people timothée knew trying to get his attention. being the kind person he is, he doesn't shy away from fans calling his name. he walks over to give high fives, say hi, sign things, and really interact with the people that are so invested in his career. you look at him with a fond smile on your face as he greets people.

"timothéeeee," you both hear and turn around to match the loud booming voice to a face.

"armieee!!" he yells in response, hurrying over to hug his co-star.

you stand idly by as the two hug and catch up. fiddling with your ponytail and the skirt of your dress. until that same voice catches your attention.

"bring it in hot stuff!"

"hey, armie! how've you been, handsome?" you two had only met a handful of times, but it's like your souls clicked instantly. he had kept in touch since the first time you met and you guys had been pretty close ever since.

"oh i’m doing great. really. just excited for this evening. can't wait to see how many awards lil' tim brings in," armie ends with a light laugh before timothée chimes in.

"oh god no-"

a cheery voice interrupts the conversation.

"helloooo," armie's wife says in a sing-song voice and joins his side. "nice to see you again, y/n. and congrats timmy on your nominations."

you and timothée nod in response and utter small, nervous 'thank you's' before armie excuses the two of them, promising to catch up later.

"well, well, well- this is it, timmy." you say from your seat next to him. the host reads the nominees for best breakthrough of the year, and timothée's name is mixed in with so many other talented actors. he nervously puts his hand over yours. "you are absolutely amazing. everyone knows that. you're gonna get it." he looks at you and you pass him a reassuring smile.

"and the award for best breakthrough goes to… timothée chalamet!"

his head shoots up in shock. cameras pan around him and his baffled expression appears on huge screens behind the stage. he slowly stands from his seat and makes his way to the stage. making a beautiful speech, thanking almost everyone he's ever known. giving gratitude to everyone he's ever worked with, his parents, and his best friends. he comes off the stage and returns to his seat beside you. a year runs down his cheek, and you move to wipe it away, but he grabs your hand away from his cheek only to press his lips to your knuckles. "thank you for always believing in me."

"you're an amazing actor and an even better friend.

the night was nearing an end. people were saying their goodbyes and their 'see-you-soon's and going their separate ways. you and timothée walk out of the event, arms linked, with his hands tightly gripping his award. the smile never leaves his face. "i can't fucking believe that, y/n."

"you did it, timmy! all you and your hard work. lemme pick a nice spot on your shelf for it yeah?"

"i was thinking about sitting it on my dresser right above the drawer full of your shit you keep leaving at my house," he says with a barely visible smirk.

"oh, well if it's such a problem," you begin "i guess I'll just have to come get my 'shit' then?" you finish sarcastically.

"oh! how dare you?" he begins to shout, going on a tirade similar to that of hamlet; overly dramatic and mostly nonsensical. "leave them be! small, small remnants; reminders of thee." he trails off softly, dropping his head to your shoulder and bringing his other hand up to trail his fingertips down the side of your face.

you can't help but chuckle at this. "bravo timothée! amazing performance."

he straightens up before taking a bow and returning to his previous position on your shoulder. "do you wanna skip the afterparty?"

"and do what, tim? i thought you were gonna catch up with armie?"

"i dunno- go to my place?"

you nod your head, and timothée let's the driver know to just go to his house.

you get out of the car in front of his apartment, quickly thank the driver, and dash inside; excited to remove the day. "can i shower?" you ask quickly already making your way upstairs.

"oui, mon trèsor, make yourself at home. ill be up in a while." it was almost as if he had it scripted. a routine more or less. you'd ask to shower - despite him telling you almost each time you never had to ask - and go up stairs to do so; him trailing along about an hour later behind you.

you finish your shower earlier than planned so you decide to lay on his bed until he comes up. you let your freshly washed body relish in the textures of the cotton t-shirt and shorts you're wearing and the damp-cool feel of the comforter on his bed.

you're not left alone for long before he darts up the stairs and into his room, catching your attention. you watch as he walks around, dropping various articles of his clothing haphazardly on his floor. left in only his boxers.

"timmy?" you ask in a drawn out voice.

"hm?" he asks lowly in response; his eyes trained on you. you don't respond to his muffled question and instead watch as he comes to lean over the foot of the bed, by your legs. "i've been thinking," he continues, "a lot recently. about us.."

"us?-"

"about what the media thinks we are. what the people say. the blog posts, the tweets. i read it all… what do you think about it, y/n?" he ends with a light sigh, making drawing light swirls on your leg.

"i dunno really. i've never thought much about it," you say sitting up.

he moves up from his place in front of the bed, crawling up to sit to the right of your legs. knees drawn up to his chest, eyes meeting yours. he raises his hand so his fingertips ghost the curve of your cheek. "you never think about.. the possibility of us?" he pauses as his eyes drift from yours. hands falling to his lap as he scoots even closer to you. you sit stunned, not knowing how to answer as if it was some rhetoric instead of a simple question. filling the silence, he continues. "i think about how different things would be if we were together. what it would be like to hold you and kiss you and- can i kiss you?"

his voice wavers as his eyes meet yours yet again. with quick movements, he moves to straddle your legs, both hands resting lightly on either side of your face.

"can i kiss you?" he asks again, his face millimeters from yours.

you shake your head yes as your eyes fluttering closed, your lips brushing against his as you move.

he plants his lips firmly on yours. innocent at first, but the kiss quickly gets deeper. more desperate, his hands moving from the sides of your face to tangle in your hair, pulling your head back giving him access to your neck. his lips dance around the skin of your neck, being careful not to leave any marks. “is this okay?” he whispers, dragging his hands from your hair to the hem of your shirt.

you nod your head vigorously and he pulls your shirt up and over your head, throwing it to the floor with his clothes. you lean back and give timothee free reign of your chest and stomach. he makes his way from your neck down and across your chest. your hands rush to knot in his hair as he takes a nipple in his mouth, carefully flicking his tongue across the hardening bud before doing the same to the other.

"timmy.." you breathe out as he leaves your chest and explores lower. his eyes meet yours as his teeth come into contact with the flimsy waistband of your sleep shorts. "please," you whisper.

he hooks his fingers into the waistband of your shorts and pulls them down your legs; eyes going wide when he sees you have nothing underneath.

"so pretty," he whispers almost to himself as he throws your shorts in his floor with the rest of your guys' clothes. he runs his finger along your slit, collecting some of your wetness, tasting it. laying back down with your legs over his shoulders, he hooks his arms around your thighs to keep you in place. he runs his tongue along your folds and you arch your back in response. he sucks on your clit making you squirm and tangle your fingers tighter in his hair, pushing against his face, eager for more.

"tim-... timmy," you beg.

timothée kisses his way back up your body. "hm?" he hums softly beside your ear only for you to utter another weak 'please' in response.

"please… please what, mon amour?"

"baise moi.." you didn't know much french. you had picked up on a few of timothée's most used phrases, but this you hadn't learned from him, so it caught him off-guard. stuck in a moment of shock. hearing you say something so dirty in french felt so strangely intimate; you didn't have to ask him twice.

he slips his boxers, finally accompanying you in nakedness, and slips into you, moaning at the feeling of you around him.

"fuck.. timmy-" you groan as he picks up his pace. he coos sweet nothings into your ear while drilling into your core.

his head drops to your chest and the soft, sweet praises slowly turn into obscenities. "merde," he groans, picking up his pace even more. holding himself at arms length above you, he throws his head back; lips parted in pure bliss.

you lift one of your hands to trail down timothée's torso. you lazily drag your fingertips across his chest and down to his stomach. the pleasure building inside you, your hand finds its way to your clit. “timmy... fuck! ple- please don’t stop. fuuuuuck!”

“défaire pour moi, y/n.” you didn’t think french could ever drive you to orgasm, but when it came from timothé anything was possible. you convulse around him as your wave of pleasure washes over you. timothée reaching his own peak soon after, pulling out and emptying on your stomach. he quickly finds something to clean you up with before plopping down on the bed beside you. many silent moments pass - nothing but heavy breaths leaving either of you - before he speaks up. “you know,” he begins in a soft whisper, “i felt bad- like i was using you. just to go to events with me. i know you don’t really like them but-”

you cut him off and turn to face him. “i might hate going to those award shows, but they’re a little less bad with you around.”

he breaks into a wide smile and pulls you closer, putting his head on your stomach. "mon amour, je t'ai toujours aimé." you reach down to play with his curls and begin to drift off on your way to sleep.

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theasstour · 4 years ago

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𝐅𝐈𝐂 𝐏𝐀𝐆𝐄 | 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 𝟏𝟑.𝟒𝐤 𝐍𝐁: 𝐚𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐡𝐨𝐥, 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐭 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐠𝐞

A/N: Thank you to the lovelies who nominated Strange Tides, Baby Blue, and moi for the 1D Craft Awards 🌊🐚 If you have the time and feel like spreading some love, go vote for your fave fics and authors here ✨ ENJOYYY CHAPTER 5! x

Tuesday, 7 July

“I’d say you’re doing quite alright for someone who has just gotten into knitting,” Bessie said, looking at Y/N’s creation over the rim of her glasses. “What technique did your mother teach you again, sweets? ‘Cause you’re a natural.”

“Oh, I dunno,” Y/N answered honestly, taking her blue square back. “Are there different types of knitting styles?”

Bessie’s laugh was warm and joyous, looking out at Camila, Florence, and Barb, who smiled at Y/N. Though Y/N had been scared of being judged by these women for not knowing how to properly knit at first, there was nothing but kindness and appreciation in their eyes. It seemed they really were just happy to see the beginning of Y/N’s knitting journey. They had all been beyond helpful, taking their time and being patient with her as she learned the ins and outs of knitting. She was still not sure what she was making, but she was knitting a bunch of squares to start off, and she would see where to go from there.

“So,” Florence said, turning her attention back on the knitting in front of her. “What do you think of St Ives thus far, Y/N? Is it living up to your expectations?”

“You’ve been here a month now,” Bessie said, shaking her head as if she couldn’t quite believe it. And Y/N couldn’t believe it herself. Time had flown by so incredibly fast it did not seem quite real. It seemed like only yesterday she had checked in here and met Bessie, or when she ran into Harry and started their little thing. It just did not seem real that time had gone by this fast. In a month’s time, summer would almost be over and she would have to start thinking about checking out and finding out what to do next. Going back home to Winchester was out of the question, but she didn’t really have anywhere else to go.

Y/N took a deep breath, telling herself not to think about that now. Debating what to do after she checked out of The Roaming Crab Inn could be done at another time, not while she was knitting with four lovely ladies. For someone who had lived her whole life with a plan laid out for her near and far future, Y/N was awfully relaxed about the prospect of the chapter of her life that would start once she left St Ives in August.

“I love it here,” she answered truthfully, finding some red yarn so she could start knitting a red square. “I’ve met so many people while staying here, it’s been amazing.”

“It’s been fun to meet Harry’s family as well,” Barb said. “If your name comes up in conversation when we’re at the chess club, Jessa won’t shut up. She’s so proud Harry’s dating such a lovely lady.”

Y/N felt her cheeks heat up, both because she took pride in that compliment but also because she knew Jessa wouldn’t think of her like that when she and Harry “broke up” later.

“Speaking of people you’ve met, my son tells me you went to the pub with him, Harry, and their little group.” Florence looked at Y/N, smiling. “Did he invite you to his birthday this Saturday?”

“Yeah, Harry told me we were invited,” Y/N said.

“Dax and Harry have been close ever since Harry came to St Ives. He even slept at the lighthouse for close to a month after Harry’s father got lost at sea.”

Y/N stopped knitting. When she looked over at Florence again, the older woman was already knitting so she didn’t notice Y/N’s sudden interest. She looked over at Bessie who only gave Y/N a nod as to confirm what Florence had just said, and in that second Y/N was very happy Bessie knew her and Harry’s relationship was only pretend.

“The day they found the empty boat was absolutely horrible. All of St Ives in mourning. Remember it like it was yesterday,” Camila went on, sighing dramatically. “Devastating time.”

“Let’s not talk about that,” Bessie chimed in. “It is such a sad time to reminisce about.”

“Yes, no reason we should think about such things,” Barb went on. “I’m sure it’s a touchy subject for Y/N as well, seeing as Harry is so close to her.”

Y/N focused entirely on her knitting, not really wanting to say anything in regards to Harry’s dad. She knew he died, but she hadn’t really questioned how that happened. For some reason, Y/N had assumed he had been sick, but knowing something happened to Harry’s dad while he was at sea… she didn’t know how to feel. Was it worse to have a loved one be sick and know the end was inevitable and close, or to have them ripped suddenly and unexpectedly out of your life?

“I’m sorry for bringing the mood down, girls,” Florence said, letting a bright laugh escape her lips. “Maybe we need some tea to brighten up our mood some?”

“I think that’s a splendid idea,” Bessie said, getting up from her seat. “Y/N, dear, would you give me a helping hand?”

“Of course.”

Y/N got up and followed Bessie inside to the kitchen, the three others chattering away as the two started making a new batch black tea. Bessie busied herself with finding some mugs, her sugar, and milk, as Y/N just stood beside the kettle and waited for it to finish boiling. With her arms crossed, her mind wandered off to all those times Harry mentioned his dad and his death, not once had he mentioned he was sick, so Y/N didn’t know where she had gotten that idea from. She knew it was not something she should be speculating or thinking about, but right then, she could not help herself.

Instead of thinking about something so tragic, she forced herself to think about Dax’s birthday party the coming weekend. Harry had only mentioned it in passing yesterday, but Y/N was already looking forward to it. There wasn’t much else she did now anyway besides knit, read for the UCAT, and lie about being in a relationship. Throwing some partying into that mix seemed like a bit of fun.

Saturday, 11 July

“I’m about to do it,” Y/N said, eyes on her laptop screen in front of her. Her white summer dress blew a little in the wind from the open window beside her, but the breeze was welcomed, as it always was in Cornwall.

Harry looked up from where he was going through some bills on his couch, wearing his red knitted jumper along with a pair of short dungaree shorts. Y/N was sat on the other side of his tiny house in the windowsill beside his bed. It was big enough to fit her, her books, and laptop, it was kind of her spot now.

“I’m really about to do it,” Y/N repeated, more for her own sake than for Harry’s - who was a little confused and sat with his mouth open, waiting for her to elaborate – because she simply could not believe she was doing this.

“What?” Harry asked after a while, and when Y/N met his eyes, he blinked a few times as if readying himself for whatever she was about to say.

“Apply for the UCAT exam.”

Last week, Y/N had taken Harry up on his offer to study for her UCAT exam at his place. She came over Friday, and upon seeing her walking up to his house around 8:30, Harry walked toward her on the gravel path. She didn’t know why, but she liked that he did that instead of just standing stoic and just watching her. It made her almost feel urgently desired at his house when he did that.

“Hi,” Y/N greeted as they fell into step beside one another. “Report time?”

“Yeah, just walking around and checking everything.”

She smiled. “And so you walked over here to check on me?”

“Who wouldn’t?”

Y/N wanted to laugh, but Harry was looking at the gravel in front of him, lips sucked into his mouth as if telling himself to shut up. He walked her all the way into his house, telling her to make herself feel at home. She sat down by the round table and placed her books out before her, sighing a little to herself as she opened the first one to the page she’d left off on last time. Before going about his day of lightkeeper chores, he made her a cup of tea and told her to help herself to anything in the fridge. He left in a hurry to report, and Y/N didn’t see much of him till two hours later, when he came inside to look through some paperwork.

The rest of the week, she’d popped by almost every single day and then stayed for hours on end. Though she’d mostly been studying, she had also stayed a little longer just to hang out with Harry. She felt safe on Clodgy Point, with Harry, who, once she got him talking about something he found interesting, would talk someone’s ear off. It was so nice to hang out with someone her own age. Someone who would curse and who didn’t need to gossip all the time. There was something so relaxing about Harry’s presence and his little bungalow that attracted Y/N. She simply could not study in her own room anymore, and Harry didn’t seem to mind. He’d meet her on the gravel path and walk her to his house before he went off to report, every single day without fail. She always looked forward to seeing him there, a sight that made the moors around her seem less turbulent and the world a little more colourful.

Though she sat by the door the first two days, she ended up in the windowsill after a while. When Harry caught her there, he asked if her bum wouldn’t get numb from sitting there all day, to which Y/N jokingly said not to worry, she could just bring a cushion next time, though she always forgot. She didn’t mind though; she liked that windowsill so much that her sore arse didn’t bother her. It also seemed Harry liked that his windowsill was being used, because at one point, he brought his Super 8 camera out, taping her doing her work in the windowsill.

On Monday, something happened that took Y/N’s breath away. Harry walked into the house, zipping his mouth shut when their eyes met as if to tell her he didn’t intend on interrupting her. He made himself something to eat for lunch and sat by the round kitchen table, minding his own business and looking out of the window beside him every now and again for some sort of entertainment. Once he was done eating, he washed his plate up and then, instead of walking back out to work, he walked over to his piano. Y/N immediately sat up a bit straighter, resting her hands on her bent knee as she watched Harry open the piano chair, pull a notebook out, and then sit down once he closed it.

Harry’s hands hovered over the keys before he slowly started pressing down on them, producing the softest melody Y/N thought she might have ever heard. He moved along with the piece, feeling the rhythmic waves take over his body and guide him through the history that melody held. It was clear Harry had some sort of attachment to that piece. Y/N didn’t know how carefully musicians played, how much attention and care they gave to each of the pieces they performed, but there was something graceful and almost intimate about watching Harry perform that piece. Y/N simply could not put her finger on it, but she couldn’t take her eyes off him.

Once he was done playing that specific melody, about to start the next one, Y/N opened her mouth, “What’s that piece called?”

Harry looked at her over his shoulder, raising his eyebrows some as if he hadn’t heard her right.

“Is it well-known?”

“No, uhm…” He furrowed his brows some, looking at the dresser stood beside the piano where a few photos were placed. “I wrote it myself?”

“You did?”

“Yeah, it’s a few years old.”

Y/N couldn’t help her smile. “Does the piece have a title?”

Harry nodded slowly. “Saving Grace,” he explained. “It’s got a dual meaning.”

“Which is?”

“Well, I was 20 when Grace was born. Until then I hadn’t really been around babies, so it took some getting used to when Grace was around most of the time. It had only been my dad and me for a long time, then Jessa came into our lives, which ultimately brought Gracie.” Harry looked out the window Y/N sat in. “It had been a very… content life till then. Nothing spectacular, Dad and I really did love each other and were best friends since before Mum left us when I was 6. But…” He trailed off. “But then came Jessa and Grace, and they truly changed all that. They made us so happy.”

A warmness that was not due to the hot temperature outside, made its way like a wave down Y/N’s body.

“Grace became my little person, you know? Though I worked at St Ives Bakery and had friends, I still didn’t know what I wanted to really do with my life. I was about to apply to study music at uni, but… I dunno, I just didn’t. Grace became my purpose for a little while. I earned money so I could take her places and buy her ice cream, or I taught her how to walk, talk, and we did everything together.” Harry turned back to the piano, playing the first few notes slowly. “This melody came to me when I watched her walk without trouble around the moors outside, she was looking at flowers and she was so happy. The melody tries to capture that moment and how perfect that day was.” He stopped, glancing at the sheet in front of him. “She was two years old.”

“So, essentially, you try to capture feelings and moments in your music?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you have any other pieces?”

Harry chuckled, looking over his shoulder at her. “You know, the reason I started playing was to help you concentrate. Piano music is great for that.”

“Sod my work, I want to know more about your music.”

“Oi!” Harry exclaimed, turning his body in her direction now. “I’ve never heard you say that word before! Never heard you speak like that!”

Y/N laughed, but persuaded Harry to play a few of his other pieces before he went back to work.

That Saturday when Y/N brought up the exam, Harry hadn’t played any piano. He sometimes would, both to calm himself down, but also to help Y/N concentrate. She would sometimes take breaks just to listen to him, but his playing really did help her focus. Harry was doing some of his work in the house that Saturday, probably to keep her company, but she was very happy he was there. She needed someone to talk this through with.

There was an instant pull to the edges of Harry’s lips, something that he didn’t have to think about, it was instinctive and genuine. A slight breath left his mouth, almost like something of a chuckle, a relief of sorts that made her all hot. He smiled and got up from the couch, a reason for his movements as if he moved a little easier now that he’d just heard that.

“Are you really?” he asked, taking his tea mug and nodding at Y/N’s beside her. She picked it up and handed it to him.

“I mean, I’ve been thinking about it for weeks, and I feel like it’s stupid to study for an exam if I’m never going to take it.”

“That makes sense, yeah.”

“So, I’m just gonna do it now.”

Harry put their mugs down, filling up the kettle before making another round. Y/N liked that he just assumed she wanted another cuppa. She liked the fact he made her this hot beverage that took a long time for someone to drink up. That he made her several a day. She really liked that.

“I’m thinking, you’ve been reading for weeks and you clearly know the material, you might as well,” Harry said.

“There’s just… I dunno…”

“What?”

“No.”

Harry was quiet, so when Y/N looked at him, he was already looking at her, waiting for her to continue. Both knew she wouldn’t hold back once she’d already started saying something.

“I’m scared I won’t show up.”

Harry frowned. “Why? That something is gonna come up?”

“No, that I’ll just oversleep on purpose or find any possible solution so I won’t have to go. Maybe my brain will refuse to revise the entire week before it, I tended to do that in school. When I have an opportunity to, I make things hard for myself.”

Harry plopped two sugars into her cuppa. “I won’t let that happen.”

She raised her eyebrows at him. “How, you’re gonna carry me out of my room and to your van, then drive me to the exam?”

“If that’s what it takes.”

She laughed, looking back at the laptop in front of her as Harry walked over, putting the tea down beside her.

“Thanks,” she said.

“I think you should just do it.”

“I know I should, but… once I sign up, it’s all happening. It’s not just something I’m thinking about doing, it’s actually happening and there’s a date I gotta work toward.” She sighed. “It’s not just a dream anymore.”

“It stopped being ‘just a dream’ the second you bought those books,” Harry said, sipping his tea as Y/N looked up at him where he stood beside her. “When you started reading, you knew what you were doing and yet you did it anyway.”

She studied him for a second, meeting his eyes the second before she turned back to the laptop. “Guess you’re right.”

“I’m right.”

She flung her arm out, hitting him just across his knee. “Cocky.”

“No,” Harry giggled. “I’m correct. You should try being it sometime.”

“Tone it down!”

Harry laughed, walking back over to his paperwork again. He sat working for a bit longer, finishing his tea before he put everything back in the folder and walked back out of the house and to the lighthouse. When the front door slammed shut, it was like Y/N was slapped out of a sort of trance. She had just been looking at the UCAT website, mouse hovering over the ‘Register and Book�� button, mind somewhere else completely. She remembered what Harry said, how registering and taking this exam wouldn’t make this dream of hers reality all of a sudden, she had done that herself when she started deliberately revising for the UCAT.

She clicked the button and made herself a new user on the website. Reading through everything carefully, Y/N felt her heart picking up speed. It was dawning on her that she was really doing this, despite everything, she was finally registering to take the test. The next few minutes as she took all of this in, she completely forgot where she was. All she knew was the information being fed to her. The wind, the sun, the fly flying around her head, nor whatever Harry was doing was any of her concern. She focused entirely on registering and booking a date. A fee of £75 had to be paid, and though Y/N would never have thought about paying that kind of money before, she hesitated now.

She didn’t have a job, her parents weren’t providing for her anymore because… well, she wasn’t talking to them, so she only had the money on her one card left. Though she was sure she could afford the test fee, there would come a time when she couldn’t. Money had never been a problem until now. This hadn’t been something she thought about before, it hadn’t been a problem then because her parents were filthy rich, but she recognised this now. However, this test had been on her mind for years and it was something she really wanted to do, so spending money on it wasn’t something she needed to feel guilty about. Y/N paid the fee and sat there staring at her screen as a ‘Thanks for your booking’ popped up on her screen. Her test was September 10th. That was in two months. In two months she would be taking the UCAT.

She got up from the windowsill, shaking her clammy hands to dry them some, a shaky breath leaving her parted lips as her heart galloped inside her chest. It didn’t feel real. None of it felt real. She was doing the UCAT exam. This was her first big step into dentistry. She was actually doing what she had been dreaming of doing for years now.

She had no idea what made her do it but she walked out of the house, instinctively walking towards the lighthouse. Harry was already halfway to the cottage from the lighthouse, halting a little at Y/N’s abrupt exit. She stopped when she saw him.

“I did it.”

Those three words took a few seconds for Harry to comprehend, but when he did, he gave her the biggest grin she’d ever seen on his face. His eyes completely disappeared behind his cheekbones, crinkles appearing beside them, and his crooked smile was accompanied with his brilliant dimples that breathed light and meaning into every situation they were present in. The sight of it made her own appear and she put a hand over her chest, feeling her heart still going hard against her ribcage. Harry must have not thought a lot of it, because he nearly opened his arms, but they quickly fell to his side. Next, he went to give her a high five, but that almost seemed inappropriate because it was such a huge moment to Y/N.

But Y/N couldn’t stop thinking about the way Harry had opened his arms for her just now. Couldn’t stop thinking about how he wanted her close like that to congratulate her on what she’d just done. And, the part of her that hadn’t really experienced someone’s noticeable pride in her like this before, wouldn’t mind at all. That’s why she ran towards him, and the two seconds Harry had to prepare, Y/N both saw the visible shock at her sprinting for him, but also a sort of jubilation like it was an honour. Y/N threw her arms around him and Harry quickly wrapped her in his, a breath of relief skimming her neck and making goosebumps run through her entire body. She laughed as Harry picked her off the ground, groaning in triumph at the news of her finally having signed up for the UCAT.

She leaned her head against his, smelling that same perfume on him that she remembered smelling when she wore his knitted jumper a few weeks ago. Her theory had also been right: Harry was an amazing hugger. His grip was tight and she was sure he closed his eyes, really immersing himself completely in the person he was embracing. Fingers spread out across her back, the tips of one just touching her shoulder blade and the other on her waist, squeezing her slightly for a few seconds before letting her down again.

“That’s amazing, Y/N,” Harry said, and Y/N tightened her grip.

When they finally let go of one another, Harry ran inside and came back some seconds later holding his camera, said he needed to document this. Y/N did a few poses that made Harry laugh, then proceeding to run out into the field beyond the lighthouse. She felt absolutely ecstatic as she ran around, grinning and jumping, her arms held up high and her heart soaring. After all this time, she was finally pursuing this. If she was able to do something that terrified and excited her like this, then what else could she do? Part of her felt like she could do anything now.

Porthgwidden Beach was like Harry described it: small. Once Harry and Y/N arrived at the tiny car park above the beach, Y/N stopped for a moment to take in the beach that wasn’t even a fraction of what the other two major beaches of St Ives were. Some Tiësto song was playing somewhere and the beach was crowded, all guests of Dax’s birthday party. The Porthgwidden Beach Café seemed to have been booked for the occasion as well, people around their age all sitting grouped around the table with their bottles and cups. No one seemed to be going crazy on their alcohol, which reassured Y/N some because it had been a while since she had been drunk, a glass or two of anything would make her very lightheaded and giggly. She had brought with her a bottle of wine in her tote bag, Harry seemed to be relying on his mates having brought drinks. If not, Y/N wouldn’t mind sharing the rest of hers with him.

Y/N had left Harry’s place not long after she signed up for the UCAT so she could get ready for Dax’s birthday party in her own room. She wore a dark green column midi skirt along with a white tee shirt and some short heels that she regretted wearing the second her and Harry stepped out into the sand. He looked over his shoulder at her once he noticed her struggling a bit, offering his hand for her to hold so she could take her heels off. While she did that, she took the liberty to study him again. His outfit was simple, yet effortlessly hot. High waisted mid wash denim jeans, a baggy black tee shirt tucked into them, along with some white socks and black Converse. Y/N had a theory Harry would end up taking his own shoes off by the end of the night too.

The two had met on Island Street where they knew none of the other partygoers would venture. That way, people would’ve seen them walk together all the way to the party, assuming they must’ve spent time at Harry’s place before coming here. They had discussed this plan over a last cuppa tea before Y/N left earlier that day, Harry had seemed very happy with himself for coming up with that one. And as they stood there, Y/N holding his hand while taking her shoes off, they heard some loud whistles followed by a “There they are!”

Looking over, they saw the birthday boy making his way over, arms spread wide and the biggest grin on his face. “My boyo!”

“Dax, not now-“

But the man didn’t listen. He hugged Harry to him, causing Harry to take a few steps, resulting in Y/N losing her balance. With a squeal, Y/N almost fell face first into the sand again, but Harry was fast to bring one hand under her armpit and the other to her hip. He dragged her toward him, her torso flat against his. She saw Harry’s eyes on her face in her peripheral vision, felt his breath on her cheek.

“Oi!” Dax laughed. “Sorry ‘bout that, Y/N. Got a bit carried away seeing this hunk.” Dax put a hand on Harry’s shoulder, causing Harry to jump right out of his trance and let go of Y/N, as if couples didn’t normally embrace each other like this without hesitation.

“Happy birthday, Dax,” Y/N smiled before picking up her shoe, shoving the pair into her tote bag along with her cardigan and Harry’s red knitted jumper.

“Happy birthday, mate,” Harry said.

“You know, I expected you to be the first one here.” Dax crossed his arms over his chest as he looked at Harry.

Harry furrowed his brows at Dax. “What do you mean?”

“Well, isn’t your best friend’s birthday important to you?”

Harry was quiet for a second. “Oh, my word, Dax.”

“I’m just a joke to you.”

“You sure are.”

“Look who it is!” Ellie called, grinning as her and the rest of Harry’s little gang made their way over. “You made it!”

“We were starting to think you two wouldn’t come,” Amir said, his hair in the most effortlessly pretty bun at the top of his head. “Too busy?” Amir wiggled his eyebrows.

“You’re too caught up in people’s sex lives for it to be normal, mate,” Harry said, taking the cup Fatima offered him. “Cheers.”

Something about Harry referring to him and Y/N’s sex life made Y/N’s cheeks feel awfully hot. Even though their joined sex life was non-existent, it still got to her. Maybe it was the way Harry always dodged those questions so the two wouldn’t have to answer any awkward queries they had absolutely no idea about. She didn’t know, but she rummaged through her bag so people wouldn’t see how flustered she suddenly got.

“Just trying to make conversation,” Amir said.

“Well, don’t,” Jo chimed in, their smile mocking and Amir only huffed in response.

“By the way!” Dax exclaimed, grinning from ear to ear. “We’re going Terraland next week, you coming this year, Y/N?”

Y/N raised her eyebrows in question. “What’s Terraland?”

“Theme park in Helston, we go every year towards the end of the summer vacation,” Jo explained. “Harry here-“ They gestured at the man standing beside Y/N. “-Doesn’t like Terraland.”

“I do,” Harry protested. “I like laying by the pool and not doing shit. I don’t particularly like it when you force me on rollercoasters.”

Y/N smiled. “I’ll come if Harry decides to.”

“Brill! All of us are coming, maybe a few others,” Amir said.

“So, it’s like an adventure park with rollercoasters and such?” Y/N asked

“That and pools, very much the kind of thing you visit when you’re on vacation in, like, Spain,” Harry explained. “But it’s in Cornwall.”

“Good for a group of grown up kids, ey?” Dax grinned, clapping his hands together.

“Come, Y/N, babe.” Ellie linked her arm with Y/N’s, taking Y/N off guard, but she didn’t stop Ellie. She looked at their arms and smiled a little. “Let’s get you a cup so we can get this party started.”

“Love your skirt, by the way,” Fatima smiled as they reached a table with tons of cups and napkins.

“Ahh, thank you. Haven’t worn it in a while, so I felt it was fitting to do so today.” Y/N glanced down at her skirt, running her hand over it before reaching for a cup.

“Ellie and I were saying the other day that you’ve got such a sophisticated sense of style, you need to take us shopping.”

“Could use a few pointers,” Ellie agreed, watching Y/N as she poured herself a glass of wine.

“Really?” Y/N screwed the cork shut before putting the bottle away, smiling at the two girls. “I mean, it’s not that good-“

“-Out of respect for what Harry said, I will stop you before you discredit yourself,” Ellie smiled back.

Y/N laughed. “What about respect for me? Respect me wanting to discredit myself for having a mediocre clothing style.”

Both Fatima and Ellie joined in on the laughing and the three girls walked away from the table so they could hang out by themselves. Though St Ives had around 11,000 inhabitants, Y/N was sure a lot of the guests weren’t locals. Maybe friends from University or friends-of-friends, everything to get a good party going. Judging by what Fatima and Ellie told Y/N, this was an annual thing. Dax Rose held a massive birthday party and absolutely everyone was invited. Bring your own alcohol, bring a friend, and bring a smile, and you were welcomed with open arms. People were sitting in the sand or by the café, others were just standing around, some were dancing, and a group was also taking a swim and joking around in the water. Y/N genuinely liked the atmosphere; it was just really freeing and nice. People wore whatever they wanted, laughter could be heard everywhere, and it just seemed like everyone wanted to have a good time.

Though anyone could come join the party – something that made her look around her a few too many times -, there were still enough people there to notice something suspicious going on.

Fatima, Ellie, and Y/N stood just talking for a while. It was really nice to talk to some girls her own age again, she couldn’t remember the last time she had done that. She had some good friends at school but once they had gone off to University or moved away from Winchester, she fell out of touch with most of them. Y/N knew it wasn’t personal, she quite liked the fact her friends had acquired new lives for themselves, being happier and more fulfilled. But she had missed just standing around chatting nonsense. The conversation didn’t hold much significance, there wasn’t much crucial information going around, or any sort of seriousness attached to it, just some mates having a chat. Y/N found herself wondering if Fatima and Ellie would come if she asked them out for lunch one day.

“I saw this documentary the other day, it’s on iPlayer,” Ellie said. “It was super interesting and disturbing.”

“Oh?” Y/N said, tipsy at this point and just holding the cup of wine in her hand, not wanting to drink more in case it would make her dizzy and very giggly.

“Yeah, it was basically about all these people who committed gruesome murders in the UK, and who go free now.”

Y/N looked up from her cup with wide eyes and at Ellie as Fatima gasped.

“Yeah, I can’t remember what it was called…” As Ellie started thinking, a shadow appeared beside Y/N and she jumped. The tall red-haired man standing beside Y/N only smiled at her, holding a hands up to indicate he was friendly.

Fatima clicked her tongue. “Are you trying to give her a heart attack, Cam?”

“No, I’m sorry, darl,” the man said, looking at Y/N as he held a hand out for her to shake. “Just saw an unfamiliar face and thought I’d introduce myself, is all. I’m Cameron.”

Y/N took a huge breath, meeting Ellie’s eyes before looking at Cameron and shaking his hand. “Y/N.”

“Y/N,” he mused under his breath, nodding his head as his hand fell to his side again. “Haven’t seen you around here before, Y/N.”

“I’ve only been here a month now.”

“Too bad we didn’t meet earlier, then.”

Y/N’s eyes widened a bit, the compliment taking her off guard. She only chuckled some, wrapping both her hands around her cup as she looked down at the liquid in it.

“When did you come back, Cam?” Ellie asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Two weeks ago. Are you on vacation here then, Y/N?” Cameron didn’t even spare Ellie a look, his undivided attention on Y/N as she continued to stare at her drink.

But suddenly a pair of black Converse appeared beside her bare feet. She felt a hand on her lower back, a warm and comforting pressure that slowly trailed its way to her waist, wrapping his fingers around her curves and bringing her toward him. Her figure fell against his, fitting against his side as if they’d done this before.

“That’s my girlfriend you’re trying to pull, Cam,” Harry said, his voice steady and a little darker than normal. Maybe it was the effect of the alcohol he had drunk this far or it being late, Y/N didn’t know, but she knew she liked it.

Cameron was quiet for a second. “Your girlfriend? Mate, you got a girlfriend?”

“This is her,” Harry continued.

“Ah, I’m sorry, Haz.”

“Don’t apologise to me, apologise to my girlfriend.”

Cameron smiled, as if he couldn’t believe Harry, but he met Y/N’s eyes. “I apologise, I didn’t know.”

Y/N nodded, not really knowing what else to say or do. Cameron looked at the other three, saying a quick goodbye before buggering off. As he disappeared, Harry’s hand slid back around her waist as he came to stand in front of Y/N. She felt his touch along her forearm, rough fingers caressing her with such sensitivity as if he was afraid of crossing a line. Whenever he touched her like this, she could tell by the rough skin of his hands that he wasn’t used to being gentle like this; wasn’t used to being careful when touching someone else. His work made him have rough skin and maybe even a rough touch, but he was always so incredibly cautious when he reached for Y/N.

He slid his hand into hers, squeezing her fingers as she wrapped them around him. Their eyes met and upon seeing him in front of her, seeing him this close, she felt her eyes widen a bit. Though the entire reason why he was doing this was because there were people around watching them, it still felt like everyone was intruding on a special moment between the two of them.

“You okay? Saw he made you jump a bit,” Harry said, hooded and glassy eyes searching her face.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just came up out of nowhere,” Y/N answered, offering a smile because she knew Harry’s concern was genuine.

Y/N wasn’t sure if Ellie or Fatima noticed Harry’s slight hesitance because by the sound of it, they were chatting amongst themselves, but Y/N did. Harry leaned in, eyes on hers till he closed them. Every single hair on Y/N’s body shot up as Harry pressed his lips gently against her cheek. He was covering her view of Ellie and Fatima, so the two couldn’t see the immediate shock on Y/N’s face. Their conversation halted, she was aware of that, but all her attention was focused on Harry’s lips and how hot her entire body got in the matter of a second. She closed her eyes, eyelashes brushing his skin. Harry pulled away, resting the right side of his forehead against her left for a few seconds. She wondered if he could feel how hard her heart was beating, how clammy her hands were. Could he tell she wanted to reach for his neck and hold him there, but she was carrying her cup and her other hand was already holding his? Could he feel her breaths on his neck like she could feel his? Did he want to stay like that, safe in each other’s company and unbothered by everyone else, for the rest of the night?

“I’m sure there are taxis driving about town if you two wanna go home,” Ellie said, and Fatima cursed her right away.

Harry took a step away from Y/N, clearing his throat as a familiar redness came to his cheeks. His hand was about to fall away from hers, but she gripped his harder, not ready to let go yet. He gave Fatima and Ellie a tight-lipped smile before meeting Y/N’s eyes again, the muscles in his face relaxing.

“El, I need a refill,” Fatima said, and though Y/N couldn’t read their faces yet, she could kind of tell what that meant.

“Let’s go get you a drink then. See you two in a bit.” Ellie and Fatima walked off, falling into conversation right away.

Harry made sure they were completely alone, that no one was eavesdropping before he said lowly, “Sorry if that was too much, I just… I just thought it’d look good, you know? To kiss my girlfriend- my pretend girlfriend around other people just to underline that we are… you know…”

Y/N nodded, biting her lips together as she watched Harry continue to try and find his words.

“Also, sorry if you wanted to chat to Cameron, I’m… I don’t want this to get in the way-“

“-I didn’t. I don’t.”

Silence stretched on, eyes on one another as the party continued around them. They didn’t have any regard for it as they kept their attention on one another. Y/N had answered so quickly and so honestly that it made her nervous when Harry didn’t say anything. Because it was true that she didn’t want to talk to Cameron, she didn’t know who he was and would probably never see him again. But she knew who Harry was, and she wanted to see him all the time. There was a comfort in his presence that settled over her like a warm, safe blanket. She liked being around him. She didn’t want to be near Cameron or anyone else.

“Do you think people think we’re a couple right now? Are we believable? Is this believable?” Harry mumbled.

Y/N giggled. “Well, you just kissed my cheek out of nowhere, I’d hope it’s somewhat believable and that they think we’re a couple.”

Harry laughed, looking down at their hands. “Yeah, it’s kind of… it’s kind of easy, isn’t it?”

Y/N frowned. “What is?”

“Being like this with you. I might feel like a right idiot when I take your hand or kiss your cheek, but you don’t make me feel like one.”

She smiled.

“It’s natural. Not that… that being in a relationship with you and acting like this is natural, I didn’t mean it like that, but it’s-“ He stopped himself looking up at her again as he bit his bottom lip, shrugging slightly. “-It’s like joking about with a friend and just having fun, feeling comfortable.”

“Yeah?”

“You know… I hope I don’t sound like a melt and I’m probably only able to say this ‘cause I’m a tad tipsy,” Harry said, and Y/N giggled. “But you’ve become one of my best friends. If not best friend, a very good one. Like… dunno, I can talk to you about anything, I don’t feel weird being silent around you, or saying or doing stuff that is weird, and I-I feel like you might feel the same way about me. At least I hope so.”

Her smile widened. “I do.”

He let out a small breath and Y/N chuckled.

“It’s sad that when this ends it’ll look weird if we remain friends, won’t it?” Y/N hated that she was thinking and talking about a time in the future they both knew was coming, but avoided talking about at all costs.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, do exes stay friends without it being weird to a degree? If you start dating someone for example, will our friends expect us to act a certain way, and if they do and we contradict their theory, will that make them suspicious of us?”

Harry furrowed his brows a little.

“I want to hang out with you and it’s sad to think that in August, we might have to part ways and never talk again ‘cause it’ll look… weird. Dunno, I haven’t really gone through this before.”

Harry let out a breathy chuckle. “Neither have I.”

Y/N laughed.

“I mean, I’ve gone through a break-up, but not like this.”

Y/N nodded. “Yeah, I haven’t talked to my ex since it happened.”

They were quiet for a moment as Harry digested Y/N’s choice of words. “You haven’t talked to your ex since you broke up either? Like, at all?”

“He, uhm, he’s sent me texts, but I don’t want to talk to him.”

Harry must have noticed how little Y/N wanted to talk about her ex, because he looked down at their hands again and let their conversation end there. Y/N held her cup out for him and Harry took it, looking at it. He raised his eyebrows, silently asking if she wanted any more of it, but she shook her head. He poured it out in the sand.

“You’re enjoying yourself?” Harry asked after a little while, wiping something off the corners of his mouth with his free index and thumb.

“The party?” Y/N met Harry’s eyes and then searched for Ellie and Fatima, she’d have to find them later. “Yeah, it’s nice. I like your friends.”

“There are a couple more who want me to introduce you, so we’ll have to do that later if it’s okay.”

“Of course.”

Harry’s eyes fell to the now empty cup. “And are you enjoying yourself in St Ives?”

Y/N smiled. “I am, it’s fun.” As she laid extra pressure on the last word, Harry looked up and as she raised her eyebrows, he knew she was referring to them and their fake relationship. He chuckled and Y/N watched him.

“Is it everything you hoped it’d be?”

She was unsure what he was referring to, but she said, “More.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she answered, folding her hands.

“So, you’re… you’re staying?” Pause. “Right?”

Confused, Y/N furrowed her brows at Harry, studying his face to try and find some sort of explanation to that utterance. She slowly opened her mouth, and said, “Staying?”

“Here.”

“On the beach?”

“No.”

“In St Ives?”

Something that could be interpreted as a nod happened, but no words left Harry’s lips. Instead, he continued to look at her, eyes searching her face as if he could find her answer somewhere there. A slight breeze blew past them, making a curl come loose and hang in front of Harry’s eye. He quickly pushed it away, not letting anything prevent him from seeing Y/N fully as she realised what Harry meant. Y/N felt his fingers brush her arm on their way down.

“Do you want me to stay?”

Harry didn’t say anything or nod this time around. Their eyes didn’t waver, looking at each other and not daring to look away. Y/N didn’t register till then how close they were standing. When the wind blew from behind Harry, she smelled his familiar scent and it made something inside her flutter. It was instinctive to look down at his lips, just as instinctive to look up and feel her breath hitch somewhere in her throat as she saw his lips part. Unapologetically, Harry’s eyes did the same that Y/N’s had done just a few seconds prior. A fire-hot shiver ran up her spine as he glanced at her lips, taking a step forward so that their hands rested against one another. Y/N wanted to look at his lips again, but she simply could not look away from his eyes. He was so close and she didn’t want to ruin it, didn’t want to look away.

“Do you think we’re believable now?” Harry whispered, his voice hoarse.

Y/N couldn’t bring herself to answer, she was waiting for something unspeakable; something that couldn’t be put into word for fear of the reality of those words being too raw, too true. She felt his curl against her forehead. His breath on her nose. Her body prickling with anticipation and confusion, unable to properly decipher if what was going on was all part of the show or if this was genuine. Harry was too respectable to make a move, and Y/N was too perplexed to do anything. If she kissed him, how would he feel? Would he take it as her being genuinely interested in him, or that they were just doing it to seem like a genuine couple? And if she kissed him, would she interpret it as her genuinely fancying him, or would she do it just to feed into their façade?

Before she could think about anything else, someone shouted something above the music and everyone else talking. It seemed to have caught quite a few people’s attention, because the volume on the beach lowered considerably. Harry tore his eyes away from Y/N and looked in the direction of the commotion. Y/N did as well, craning her neck to see beyond the group of people that were hugging and crowding what looked to be a new guest. Harry froze in front of Y/N and she looked at him, then back at the group.

“What’s going on?” she asked.

“My…” Harry mumbled, pausing for some seconds. “Emilia.”

Y/N looked back at Harry. “Emilia?”

Harry nodded.

“Your ex?”

“The one who lived in Munich for two years, yeah.” Harry ran a hand through his hair before he met Y/N’s eyes. “I haven’t seen her since she came back, think she came back sometime last week.”

“Do you want to go say hi?”

“I…” Harry glanced in Emilia’s direction again, clearly thinking it over thoroughly. “I mean… yes, but… she’d meet you as well. She’d have to.”

“Why?”

“’Cause Dax won’t be able to keep himself from bringing up the fact that I have a new girlfriend. Pretend girlfriend, but… you know…”

Y/N nodded.

“If she knows I’m here and I’m with my new girlfriend, she’s gonna wanna meet you.”

She inhaled sharply. “Why would she want to meet the person you’re supposedly being intimate with now?”

Harry’s eyes grew wide for a single second before he composed himself, blinking himself back to reason. “Dunno. Emilia is very sociable. Just like you.”

“But she’d meet the person you’re with now, I don’t see why she’d want to meet them.”

“Maybe she’s happy for me, maybe she wants to meet someone who supposedly makes me happy,” Harry offered, shrugging his shoulders.

Y/N stared at him for a few seconds. “I know you said she didn’t want to be with you ‘cause it affected her mental health, and I get that, but leaving you when you were at your lowest is still an awful thing to do.”

Harry glanced at Y/N.

“And then not talking to you for two years after just sodding off to Munich. She doesn’t know what you’ve been through since then, do you think she’s gonna care now?”

Harry furrowed his brows. “Y/N, I loved Emilia.”

“I’m aware, but the people we love don’t have to love us back the same way we love them. One part always ends up loving more, feeling more, doing more. We can’t choose how much we love someone, and we don’t have a say in how they love us, but the fact of the matter is that if you love someone, you act like it. You let them know.”

Harry didn’t say anything, he just bit the inside of his cheek and continued to look at Y/N.

“I’m fully aware you loved Emilia, probably still do, but it doesn’t sit right with me that she just removed herself like that completely. You’re not a toxic person, you were just going through a rough time.”

“Harry!” Amir shouted, waving Harry and Y/N over. “Harry, mate!”

Harry watched Y/N for a few more seconds, probably either debating what she’d just said or losing every shred of respect he had for her, Y/N didn’t know. He nodded in the direction of everyone and the two started walking there, strolling the distance in silence. She didn’t know how she was supposed to interpret said silence, if it was a good kind or if he just didn’t want to talk to her for the rest of the night because he had taken offense to what she’d said.

When they reached the group, they made space for Harry and Y/N, and the first thing Y/N noticed was the brunette standing on the opposite side to the circle from them. Her blue eyes lit up when she saw Harry and she smiled at him instantly, clearly happy to see him after two years of no contact.

“Hi,” she exclaimed, crossing the circle, and giving Harry a hug. “It’s so good to see you again.”

“Yeah, you too,” Harry said. “How was Munich?”

“Amazing, I’m moving there permanently after University, I’m sure.” Emilia stepped away from Harry and immediately, her eyes fell on Y/N. “And this must be the girlfriend.”

Harry and Y/N’s eyes met, Harry raising his eyebrows in a quick “told you so”, which made Y/N smile some before turning back to Emilia.

“Yes, I guess I am. And you’re the ex.”

Harry shifted uncomfortably, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans as he looked from Y/N to Emilia and back again. It was evident that the rest of the group, and quite a few others as well, were watching this interaction with keen interest. They were probably waiting for one of them to start a fight and the other one to feed into it, something Harry would step in to stop and take sides, which would ultimately just end badly. It was clearly something a lot of people thought would be great entertainment. But Y/N kept her cool, not wanting to sound passive aggressive or make Harry uncomfortable. Though she was not impressed with Emilia’s past actions, she wasn’t about to judge her solely on them. Y/N hoped she was right not to.

“I am, it’s been so long since I’ve seen Harry.” Emilia looked back at Harry, considerably smaller than him, looking up at him through her lashes. “That rain check you were talking about, you could make up for it by walking me over to get a cup?”

Y/N looked at Harry, about to open her mouth and ask what rain check Emilia was talking about, but she realised it was none of her business. And questioning Harry like this in front of everyone would just feed into everything everyone wanted. So, Y/N just crossed her arms over her chest.

“Actually, we’re about to leave,” Harry said, giving Emilia a small smile.

Emilia pouted. “Really? It’ll only take you a minute.”

Harry opened his mouth to inhale hugely, looking over at Y/N who hoped he could tell she didn’t like this. But Harry met Emilia’s eyes again, taking a step back and Emilia grinned as the two started walking towards the table in the middle of the beach with all the cups. Y/N watched them, how easily they fell into conversation and how eager Emilia was to talk to Harry again. While witnessing this, Y/N kept reminding herself of what Harry had said earlier, about her becoming one of his closest friends. She hoped repeating that moment to herself would prevent her from getting hurt and sad and angry, but it didn’t. When turning back toward the gang, she realised both Ellie and Dax were watching Harry and Emilia as well. And upon taking a look around, she realised Jo, Amir, and Fatima were as well. Y/N didn’t know for what purpose, but if Dax’s tense jaw was any indicator, it couldn’t have been for a particularly good reason.

Why would Harry do that? Though Y/N wasn’t in a relationship with him, it was still embarrassing for her to have to stand there and wait for him. She felt ridiculous when Fatima met her eyes again, giving her an apologetic smile, one Y/N – Harry’s fake girlfriend – didn’t deserve, but she appreciated it nevertheless. Because despite everything, this hurt. She dug her nails into her upper arms as she stood there, mad at Harry for the first time ever. Though it had been gormless of Emilia to ask in the first place, Harry hadn’t really needed much persuasion.

As Emilia and Harry’s voices got louder, the gang started up a light conversation that Y/N pretended to be part of. She only gave Harry a slight glance before looking back at Dax who was talking, the guy not giving the returning two any of his attention either. Y/N wondered if Dax thought the same way about Emilia’s behaviour as she did, but then again, it wasn’t like Y/N could take Dax aside and ask him that. If Y/N sought Dax out to talk about Harry’s ex, it wouldn’t look good.

“Ready to leave?” Y/N asked, reaching into her tote bag for her cardigan. Some of her passive aggressiveness was detectable in her voice, she hoped no other than Harry picked up on it. She was still tipsy so she blamed her incapability to hold back on that.

“Yeah,” Harry said, standing very still as he watched Y/N put her cardigan on. Once it was on, she smiled at everyone, and then looked at Harry as he directed a “See ya, yeah?” at everyone. Though Dax was visibly sad the two were leaving, he seemed to know why they were bailing because he didn’t ask them why or stop them. Y/N put her shoes back on and the two started on their way back up the hill that led to the car park.

It was unexpected when Harry reached for her hand, intertwining his fingers with hers so slowly and so deliberately that she felt it in every single one of her cells. Though it was nice to feel him there, she had to bite her lip from saying anything as they walked up Burrow Road. The second they were out of sight and alone, Y/N let go of his hand. This wasn’t something Harry would’ve usually paid much attention had he not heard her passive aggression just a few moments earlier.

“Is it Emilia?” Harry asked.

It was stupid how the only time Harry managed to be blunt and upfront was when he knew he was in trouble or if someone was annoyed with him. At least Y/N thought so.

She straightened her back, wrapping her cardigan tighter around herself. “What about Emilia?”

“Is that why you’re all… mad? Dunno if mad is the best word.”

“Think it describes how I’m feeling perfectly,” Y/N said. “’Cause I’d say I’m mad with a dash of disappointed.”

Harry looked over at her, frowning again. “Why?”

“Why am I mad you walked over there with Emilia?”

“Yeah.”

Y/N shrugged her shoulders exaggeratingly. “Call it intuition, call it paranoia, call it whatever you bloody want, but I think she wants you back now that you’re not broken up about your Dad anymore.”

Harry took a few seconds to say, “I’ll call that stupidity.”

The laugh that left Y/N was anything but friendly and warm. “Fine. Do whatever you want.”

“Why are you so mad about this anyway? It’s not like we’re…” Harry stopped himself, looking over at Y/N who refused to look at him. “It’s not like we’re a couple.”

“It’s still embarrassing. I was left standing there while my boyfriend walked off with his ex. You don’t even want to admit that what you did was stupid.”

“’Cause it’s not, we just walked down to that table so she could get herself a cup.”

Y/N sighed, running her hands over her face. “Yes, it’s an innocent act and I probably have no right to act like this, but I’m being a friend. I’m trying to look out for you.”

“Are you?”

“What?”

“Being a friend, looking out for me?”

Y/N looked at him, seeing his set jaw and piercing eyes. “Why wouldn’t I look out for you?”

“Right now you just seem mad I hung out with my ex.”

She glanced away again, so frustrated with him that she felt like screaming. They reached Back Road, Y/N walking straight ahead to take the quickest way back to the Inn, Harry was turning right to Clodgy. “Interpret it any way you want, Harry. I’m being truthful when I tell you I just want what’s best for you.”

There was a pause as Harry watched Y/N cross the road. “You’re just gonna leave like that? You don’t wanna talk it out?”

“You don’t understand where I’m coming from, Harry!” Y/N exclaimed as she faced him, turning her back on the dark alleyway behind her. “What’s the point?!”

“Y/N, it’s not like I’m making out with Emilia in front of everyone!”

“I know, but that small act of just walking down there has a lot of meaning! She wants to make up for lost time!”

“You’re just reading too much into this!”

“And you think the best of people who hurt you!”

“She left for her own good, don’t blame her for that!”

“I’m not! I just think it’s odd to not check up on you in those two years following your breakup when you were clearly having a tough time when she left!”

“Oh, my days, Y/N.” Harry ran his hands over his face and through his hair.

“I know you want to see the best in everyone, but I’ve experienced people fucking me over ‘cause I gave them the benefit of the doubt. Multiple times. I’m not doing that again, I’m-I’m just not. And I don’t want to watch that same thing happen to you.”

Harry blinked when Y/N cursed, but quickly regained himself. “I can take care of myself!”

“I’m just being a friend and looking out for you, I’m sorry if-“

“-And what if I don’t want you to look out for me as a friend?!”

Y/N was about to answer, but she felt something brush against her back and then a figure moving out of the dark alleyway behind her. Her heart skipped a beat and the next thing she knew, she felt it in her throat. She jumped out of the way, stepping just in the crack between two cobblestones and stumbling away from the stranger. The man looked at Y/N as she regained her balance, about to reach his hand out to help her when Harry rushed across the road. Y/N managed herself, but she took another step away from the stranger who genuinely looked baffled as to what had just happened. Y/N put a hand over her heart, feeling it beating furiously. Calm down, calm down, calm down, she told herself, feeling safer the second Harry put a hand to her upper arm.

“You alright, miss?” the man asked, looking at Harry who was standing beside Y/N, making sure she was okay.

“Sorry,” Y/N said, doing her best to give him a smile. “I’m just a bit jumpy. And a tad drunk.”

He laughed joyously before continuing on his way, and the second he turned away, Y/N’s face fell. Harry noticed and turned her to face him, squeezing her shoulders so she’d look at him. She balled her hands into fists as she felt her heart beating hard, calming down from the sudden rush of adrenaline.

“You’re okay,” he said, recognising her reaction from that first time she read to him in the grass beside the lighthouse.

Y/N nodded, meeting Harry’s eyes and telling herself it was all fine. She would be fine. Harry was here and nothing would happen to her while he was here. She continued to look at him till she was calmer, but the thought of walking down that dark alleyway now made her want to hurl. However, she didn’t have any other place to walk and she had to get back somehow. Maybe she could call Bessie and talk to her, or maybe she could find another and maybe longer route back. But then she’d be out in the open longer than she initially wanted to.

“Have you always been like that?” Harry asked, the question curious and without any hint of judgement.

“Like what?”

“Paranoid.”

Y/N smiled a little as if that would brighten the mood that had fallen considerably. Slowly, she nodded, averting her eyes from Harry’s. “I like being prepared for anything, for any possible outcome.”

Harry didn’t remove his hands from where they rested on her shoulders.

“So, I either make them up, or if something happens unexpectedly, my brain does this thing where it tells me that the worst possible thing is happening, and I need to escape.”

“What’s the worst possible thing that can happen?”

“In any scenario?”

“Yeah.”

Y/N watched as someone turned every light in their flat off, wishing she was in her bed right now. “That my Dad finds me.”

Harry stayed quiet.

“He terrifies me. Always has. I know he won’t hurt me, but… he’s a bad man, Harry. A very bad man.”

“He won’t come here, Y/N. You’re safe in St Ives.”

Some part of her laughed at that, but when she met his eyes, she knew he genuinely meant it. If Harry was there, he would not let anything happen to her. No matter what. Even if they had a disagreement the second before her Dad showed up. But her father knew where she was and if he wanted her back, he would do what he could to get her back. A lighthouse keeper wouldn’t stand in his way.

Y/N felt her bottom lip starting to wobble at the thought of it, and she put a hand in front of her mouth when the back of her eyes started to sting.

“Hey,” Harry said, squeezing her shoulders. “Let’s go back to mine, yeah? You won’t have to be alone.”

She met his eyes, blinking a few times as she processed his offer. “Yours?”

“Yeah, if you’re a bit shaken up, I thought you might… might not want to be alone.”

Without really registering what she was doing, Y/N was nodding her head to answer his question. “If you’re sure I won’t be a burden in any way-“

“-Flower, you’re never.”

She almost thought she heard him incorrectly. Flower. She had never gotten a nickname before. Her friends back home used to call her ‘babe’ and her mother would sometimes call her ‘sweetheart’ and Bessie referred to her as ‘dear’, but never this one. She suddenly felt a little lightheaded.

Harry wrapped an arm around her and held her to him as they walked through the city. He hummed to The Power of Love as they strolled, keeping the empty and quiet streets of St Ives alive as long as they were walking through them. Y/N looked about them, staring down alleyways and streets, sometimes being too afraid to even to study the shadows or look to make out silhouettes in the darkness. Harry’s humming kept her grounded and reminded her that she wasn’t alone. Once they were walking along the road up to Clodgy Point, Harry let go of her, letting her walk by herself. It was starting to get a bit chilly when the winds of the moors started up around them, so Y/N reached for Harry’s knitted jumper in her tote bag and gave it to him. He was a bit taken aback by that, seemingly having forgotten it was there, but he thanked her, the only two words being uttered at all on their 30-minute walk up to the lighthouse.

Harry unlocked the door and walked in first, turning the light on the coffee table on as Y/N locked the front door. He opened a window to let some air in, then took his jumper and shoes off. Y/N did the same, wrapping her arms around herself. She was aware it had been Harry’s idea for her to stay here, but she suddenly felt like she was intruding. This was his space and his bedtime routine. They had walked off most of their drunkenness, so when Y/N tripped over her own feet a bit, it was purely from exhaustion. Harry was almost about to reach out and catch her even though he was across the room, but his dedication to help her made her chuckle a little. Harry smiled at the sound of it.

Y/N put her tote bag on one of the chairs, putting her cardigan over the back of it as well.

“I…” Harry started, making Y/N look over at where he stood by his dresser. “I have a few shirts and stuff if you wanna freshen up some.”

Y/N chuckled. “What do you mean?”

Realising he probably didn’t make sense, Harry let a breath escape his lips as well. “I meant, if you wanna have a shower, I’ll lend you a tee shirt.”

The thought of showering in Harry’s space seemed almost a bit surreal, but for some reason, also completely normal. She spent so much time here and with him that in a way, it was weird that she hadn’t showered here before. She slowly nodded her head, and Harry opened a drawer, pulling out an old tee white shirt with a small Elton John logo on the chest.

“Towels,” Harry said, walking over to his tiny bathroom and turning the lights on for her. “They’re here, and I got everything you might need in the shower. There’s an unused toothbrush in the cabinet under the sink.”

“Thank you.”

Harry gave her a smile before closing the door. Taking a breather first, the next thing Y/N did was get undressed and take that shower. She washed away the argument with Harry and the reason why it was cut off so abruptly; tried to soak herself in everything else that happened tonight that made her entire body warm. When Harry kissed her cheek; the way his hot lips felt against her skin, how the thought of that moment alone made her feel some type of way. She knew Harry only did it so everyone would think they were a couple, but her cheek was tingling.

She got out of the shower, drying herself off, and putting Harry’s tee shirt on, her skirt under it. Yes, the two were starting to get comfortable around one another, but she wasn’t sure if they were just there yet. Last thing she wanted to do was walk out there in her knickers and one of his tee shirts, then make him uncomfortable in any way. Though she felt like a raisin since she was not doing her usual post-shower skin routine, nor any hair products for her hair, she told herself she’d do it tomorrow when she was back to the Inn.

She walked outside to see Harry laying in his bed, his small telly that was stood by his couch, turned around so he could watch a rerun of an old Would I Lie To You episode. When the bathroom door opened, he instantly looked in her direction, placing his hands on either side of his form as if he got ready to get up. Their eyes met and his eyes fell to her tee shirt, where the material hugged her waist firmly. He met her eyes again, swallowing thickly before he gestured beside him at two glasses of water.

“One by the window is yours.”

“I’m literally so thirsty, thank you.”

Harry smiled, walking past Y/N and into the bathroom, going to take his own shower. Y/N sat down in Harry’s bed, nuzzling under the covers and taking a hold of her glass. She brought it to her lips, sipping it till it was empty, watching the telly as she did. She got up for a refill, drank half, and then just continued to watch the telly for a bit. The light in the room was dim enough so she could easily fall asleep, and she almost did drift off against the headboard, but then Harry exited the bathroom and woke her up with a start.

“Oh!” he exclaimed. “Sorry, did I wake you?”

She smiled, sinking down into the pillow. “Almost went off to dreamland there.”

“Soz.”

“I’m a light sleeper, it’s not your fault.”

Harry nodded, walking over to turn the lights off, the only light in the entire little cottage now being the light from the telly. He strolled over to the fridge and took a cucumber out. Y/N watched him as he brought a knife out, cutting it up in half.

“You hungry?” he asked.

“Just brushed my teeth.”

“So did I, but after I’ve been out, I usually eat half a cucumber before bed.”

Y/N stared at him.

“What?”

“Just… just a cucumber? Nothing else?”

“What else? Do you spice your cucumber? With what?” Harry looked at his little box of spices by his stove. “Onion granules?”

Y/N laughed, placing her hands on the duvet above her stomach.

“I actually had jalfrezi leftovers after we went to the pub a few weeks ago,” Harry said as he came over to the bed, giving Y/N half the cucumber. “So I dipped my cucumber in that and ate it.”

Y/N grimaced. “Were you still pissed?”

“No,” Harry chuckled. “I just like cucumber and Indian food.”

“Fair enough.”

Harry picked up one of his quilts and sat down in bed beside Y/N, draping it over himself so she could have the duvet for herself. He bit into his half of the cucumber, completely unfazed as his eyes fell on the telly. Y/N tried not to laugh, but he looked so incredibly cute, munching on his cucumber and smiling at something Rob Brydon said. He must’ve noticed her not eating, because he looked down at where she laid in bed, raising his eyebrows.

“You weren’t hungry?”

“It’s not that.”

“It’s honestly refreshing.” Harry took another bite. “I love it.”

That made her smile and she took a bite of her cucumber as well, Harry watching her as she chewed and then swallowed.

“Well…? Your verdict?”

“It’s just a cucumber.”

Harry rolled his eyes, making Y/N laugh again. “You’re humiliating.”

“Says the person who eats half a cucumber before bed!”

“I’m quirky!”

Laughing again, the two fell into comfortable silence as they watched the rest of the Would I Lie To You episode. Though the idea of eating half a cucumber hadn’t been very appealing to begin with, it did make her feel a bit better. She didn’t know she’d been hungry till now, the cucumber and the two glasses of water had done a well enough job to fill her stomach up before bed, so she didn’t bother asking Harry if she could make herself a toastie. Instead, Y/N found her eyes falling shut, her entire body relaxing completely. All the worry and the paranoia and the fight earlier all came together now, making her so tired she could barely stand to keep her eyes open. Her entire body ached with the effort it took to stay awake. She stayed as close to the wall as possible, where she could look out across the dimly lit lightkeeper house.

Y/N felt the move as Harry reached out to the windowsill. He sat back, screwing the lid open, revealing a balm of some sort. He rubbed his middle finger in it, slowly sliding it along the thick balm till his finger was wet with it. Y/N bit her bottom lip. For some reason, she thought he was going to smear it across his own lips, some sort of cream to help keep his lips moisturised. No, instead Harry dragged his finger under his eyes. Not directly under his eyes, but along his cheekbones, slowly and gently.

“What’s that?” Y/N asked through a yawn.

Harry looked away from the telly and at her. “Face cream.”

“You put it on before bed?”

“It helps me sleep, it’s made of lavender and apricot. Both are supposed to help you fall into a deep sleep.”

“Can I try?”

“Yeah.” Harry handed it over, leaning his head back against the headboard, watching Y/N as she smelled it.

“Lush.”

“It is.”

Y/N rubbed her finger in it, putting it along under her eye. She was aware Harry was keeping an eye on her, but she pretended to find the programme incredibly interesting right then. She heard a slight chuckle.

“Not directly under your eyes,” Harry said. “Not there.” He leaned over, taking a delicate grip of her wrist and moving her hand down. “Here.” His hand moved upward to cup hers, his little finger, ring finger, and middle finger hooking themselves tenderly between her thumb and index. His index rested on top of hers as he guided her hand slowly and gently, tipping his head to the side to rest against the headboard while he concentrated. She didn’t dare look away from the telly, too overwhelmed to do anything but let him help her.

“Then the other eye,” he mumbled, telling her what was going to happen next. Because without warning, he dipped his finger in the balm Y/N was holding, swirling his finger slowly around till it was moist. When he did that, she simply could not help herself, and her eyes fell to look at his hand, taken aback by what was happening. However, she didn’t move or tell him to stop when Harry brought his hand up, sliding it over her cheekbone. Soft, slow, graceful. A prickling hot sensation followed where he touched, slowly spreading through her entire body. She looked away from the balm and at Harry, the second she did, he glanced back at her. A slight breath left her lips, Harry’s eyes falling to them. She sat up, finding the lid and placing it back on the balm. She handed it back to Harry.

Harry took it, placing it back in the windowsill before he got up from bed. Y/N lay back down, quickly checking the pulse on her neck because she knew her heart was beating hard. If it beat hard enough, would it somehow make the bed creak? Was it possible her heartbeat made her entire body shake like that? Just in case, Y/N switched so she was laying on her side. She watched as Harry turned the telly off, the room falling into complete darkness. Y/N closed her eyes, realising for the first time in a minute or two how sleepy she actually was.

It took a second or two before she felt the bed move and creak as he sat down. He shuffled till he was comfortable laying on his side facing her. Only reason she knew that was because she heard his content sigh and felt his breath on her face. It had been quiet for a minute or so before Harry whispered her name.

“Hm?” she asked, opening her eyes slightly. She could not make out much, but she thought she might’ve seen him looking at her. That might also just be her imagination playing tricks on her.

“I’m sorry about earlier,” he said, his voice a whisper.

“I’m sorry, too.”

“I know you’re just looking out for me and I’m sorry if it was embarrassing for you when I did that.”

“I’m sorry I criticised her for leaving you when it was bad for her mental health, I just know that it can’t have been easy to have been in your shoes just then, so that break up can’t have been easy to deal with on top of everything else.”

Silence stretched on for a few seconds. “It wasn’t. But I don’t blame her for leaving if that was what was best for her.”

Y/N closed her eyes again. “Okay.”

She felt the bed move again as Harry found a new position that was more comfortable. The pillow she rested her head on moved a bit, she reckoned he slung his arm over the top of her head.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” Harry said, voice slurring now as well.

“Night.”

“My alarm will go off at 3am, by the way.”

She smiled. “I know.”

She heard him let out a slight breath, sounding like a small chuckle, and the next thing she knew, she was having the slumber of her life.

NEXT UPDATE: Sunday, 27 September, 9PM GMT!

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floatinginwords · 4 years ago

Text

Saved by the Devil (8/?) - Tommy Shelby

Summary: you go missing and a lot of people get worried

Paring: Tommy Shelby x fem!reader (Not romantic..yet)

A/n: I actually wasn't gonna post today but this chapter fell out of me. Its funny how some days are tougher to write and others its like riding a wave. I hope everyone has a wonderful day :)

The man with the busy eyebrows and mustache called himself Inspector Campbell. A fucking police officer. When you came too you found yourself tied to a chair, ropes around your wrist and legs, tight against the skin cutting off blood circulation. He didn’t ask questions first. No first, was the punching against your ribs and stomach. Then your face. He didn’t give you no breaks, not like he would give you any.

“I think me and you have gotten fairly acquainted with.” The inspector say his foul breath reaching up your nostrils. Blood dribbled down your chin and nose. It was you could taste.

His men have left the room, on his orders of course. He leans on his cane as he stares at you from above. A evil smirk on his face as if he was some god looking down at his pitiful creations. You spit blood at his shoe.

He grabs your face harshly, you face scrunching up like a fish. “Tell me what you were doing with Thomas Shelby. Or I can make this night a whole lot painful for you.” He throws you back and all you do is glare at the man. Not saying a word. Not even huffing a sound.

The inspector laughs. And walks out the door. You see him point to you with his cane as he talks to the other men that were abusing you moments ago. You brace yourself for the inevitable. The torture last for hours.

******************************************************************************************

No ones seen you for three days. Ada, the first night you didn’t comeback, called Trinity. but she hadn’t seen you since the morning. The next day Ada and James went out looking through the streets at your usual spots. You didn’t have any Ada just wanted to feel as though she was doing something. You didn’t have any family or any other friends. Except one other person who may know your whereabouts. So on the third day of no trace of you, with a little nagging and encouragement from James and Trinity, Ada decided to make a call.

*******************************************************************************************

Over at May Careltons mansion, Thomas Shelby listens half heartedly to the woman discussing the progress on his horse. He could care less at the moment. He’s just thinking of ways that he could stay the night. He wasn’t a fool, he knew of Mays attraction to him. It benefited him in more ways than one.

“Excuse me, Mr. Shelby,” A maid interrupts May in the middle of whatever it was that she was saying, “You have a phone call.”

“I’m sure they can leave a message.” His eyes not leaving Mays

“Its your sister, she sounds urgent.” The maid says.

With that thought in mind, Tommy excuses himself from May.

“Ada this better be important.”

“Where the fuck are you,” Ada screeches over the phone, “Ive been trying to contact you everywhere and Polly tells me your-“

“What is it-“

“(Y/n) is missing.”

Tommy swallows hard. “I’m sure she’s around somewhere ada. How long its been?”

“Three days. No ones seen her. Tommy please, Im worried.”

Three days ago was when he last saw you. When you agreed to go to dinner with Alfie and Arthur You had left the car without another word. He wanted to follow you but decided against it. He was regretting it now.

“Ada, just calm down. Ill ask some boys to go look for her okay?” He reassures his sister over the phone promising to find you.

He hangs up.

“Is everything alright?” May asks from behind him. Her eyes were hopeful looking at him. She too was hoping he would stay though that was something she would never admit out loud.

“I have to go, family emergency.” He says. Turning his back on her without another thought.

***************************************************************

He didn’t have to leave. He knew that. He could have stayed with May have her fill that hole within his heart that Grace had left about a year ago. He owed nothing to you. He kept telling himself this over and over as he drove back, pushing the speed way past its limit. He begins to reminisce about your first meeting. You were nothing but a chess piece to him at the time but you surprised him a lot in that first meeting. Especially when you didn’t take that money he offered. He was confused to say the least. Everyone took free money. You didn’t. He remembers seeing you again at the Eden club. He though he would never see again. But there you were. He couldn’t not talk to you. He just had to. He knew he hurt you with his words. He didn’t apologize. He never apologizes. He remembers finding out Ada had a roommate. Imagine the surprise on his face when he realized it was you. Of course Thomas Shelby was always in control of his emotions so it never really showed. He was distrustful of you as he always is with people. But you showed something since your first introduction that most people didn’t show their entire lives; Honesty. And he liked that about you. He believed you when you said you didn’t work for Sabini anymore. (Of course he had his people look into it after to be 100% sure) He trusted you to go to meet his brothers, be in the same car as them, come to an auction. He remembers seeing you bloody and a mess. Guilt and rage had filled him up. He couldn’t hold himself back from shooting the guy. When he stitched you up, he liked that you tried to make conversation. You knew when to back up, you never pried. He didn’t know if that was fear of him or if that was just you. He hoped the latter. He liked the way you said Mr. Shelby, though he often wondered how his first name would sound falling off your lips. Thomas Shelby pushes these feeling aside as he drives. He tells himself he just doing this as favor to his sister and because you can be very valuable. But as he drives into the city, a piece of his mind whispers that that just might not be the only case.

*****************************************************************************************

Three fucking days. You couldn’t believe that that’s how long it lasted. The torture, the beatings. They released you on the thought that you really didn’t know anything. You never said a word. They drove you out to the fucking country side and dropped you off like you were trash. You were never more humiliated in your life. You walked, each step bring you pain and anguish. But you kept going.

‘Its Friday’ You think to yourself. You never got to call to confirm if you were going on that dinner. You laugh at yourself. Out of all things to worry about.

You find a little pond as you were walking and attempt to wash your face off all the dirt and blood. You looked half decent.

It took you till sundown to get back into London. People in the streets gawked at your face. You knew you were bruised pretty bad. Worse than before thanks to the inspector. The stitches on the right side of your body were now leaking. You can see the blood drip slowly through your hand. You sigh. Its always one problem after the next.

Once in front of the house, you see all the lights on. Something you knew Ada hated. You see multiple people moving about and you curse underneath your breath. The last thing you wanted was to interact with people. Someone looks through the window, a young boy you didn’t recognize.

“Is that her Ada?” You hear the boy loudly say not keeping his eyes off of you.

As soon as the boy says that, a multitude of people rush out to the window to look out followed by a rushing to the door. Ada being the first to run into you, bear hugging you.

“Where the hell have you been?” She cries out.

You stay silent, your arms limp across your sides. No energy left to pick them up or say anything. You wished at that moment to escape into eternal darkness forever. You see a bunch of people behind her mostly men. All in black caps and coats.

‘Peaky blinders.” You think. You step back from Adas hug and move up the stairs toward the house. The men spread apart not wanting you to push through them. You walk up the rest of the stairs to your room slowly. You can feel all their eyes burn into your back.

Once you reach your bedroom, you sit on your bed and stare at the empty wall. You couldn’t get the inspector eyes out of your head. It was like he enjoyed watching the life get beaten out of you. He talked a lot. You replay the last three days in your head trying to piece together what that crazy old man was talking about as he was ‘interrogating’ you

***************************************************************************************

As tommy walks through Adas door the first thing he realizes is that it seems that everyone is fucking here instead of doing their jobs. He watches them lounge about, eating and drinking away his sister’s stuff. He’s about to yell at them when Ada puts a hand on his shoulder.

“Tommy She came home.” She says, he notices a lack of smile on her face.

He raises an eyebrow.

“She looks like she’s been beaten all over. I mean I only saw her face but the way she was walking…” Ada trails off biting her lip.

“Im gonna talk to her.”

“Tommy I don’t think-“

Hes already at the top of the stairs before she finishes her sentence. Its not hard to figure out which room is yours. For reason being your room is the only one open. He sees your figure sitting up just staring at nothing in the dark. He clears his throat, not wanting to scare you with his unknown presence. You don’t turn around. He takes slow steps around to sit next to you on the bed. You both face the wall.

“Its Friday,” you break the silence, “I apologize for not calling about dinner.”

Right, he almost forgot that Alfie and Arthur were meeting right now.

“Never mind that,” You suddenly get up as he talking, limping around the room, “what are you doing?”

You light a candle on the other side of the room. He sees how bad your bruised face is in the light. And the blood trail your leaving with your freshly open hand.

“(y/n), you should go see a doctor.” Thomas says standing up.

“I’ve been through worse, Mr.Shelby.”

“Who did this to you?” You notice the look of controlled anger on his face.

“Inspector campbell. Know him,” You ask sarcastically,” cause he really doesn’t like you.”

You laugh and wince, the action hurting your ribs immensely, ”oh and he sure talked a lot. Kept mentioning a general, if I knew him, if I seen him, if you told me his name,” you pause, “what are you planning to do with a general?”

He doesn’t answer you. The clocks in your brain keep turning. “Cause there’s only one thought that comes to my head.”

“Why did he question you?”

“Cause you took me to the fuckers house. And your being followed by the way.” A pain strikes through your head the more frustrated you become.

“You should lie down.”

“What did you get yourself into?”

“it doesn’t concern you.”

“Look at me, how does it not?”

He stares at you and though to you he looks emotionless, inside the feeling of guilt and fear are swirling. You on the other hand cant decipher anything that going on behind those eyes.

‘maybe this what he looks like when he is lost.’ You think. You know you could lend a hand through this, whatever it is. You assume an assassination. One the police are having a hand in themselves. When inspector Campbell was ‘questioning’ you, you noticed how it didn’t seem like he cared for the generals life but feared of who got a whiff of the info. It seemed that Mr. Shelby was getting something from it, maybe with you helping so can you. A ticket out of here perhaps.

“what do you want?” He says shrugging.

“I want to help.”

read pt.9

Tags

@captivatedbycillianmurphy @evelyn-4034 @enamouravecleslivresetlechocolat

#tommy shelby x you #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinders #Fanfic

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honey-makki · 4 years ago

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well, i guess sappy posts are better late than never. i can’t believe i’ve only been on anime tumblr for 8 months and writing for 6. it’s crazy how influential my time here has been on me and the relationships i’ve fostered. i guess this is also my thank you for 2.5k because i hit that recently. im so thankful and grateful you have let me create a nice lil coffeeshop in my own corner of tumblr. I wouldn’t trade it for anything, (ok maybe some things but not many). I will be disgustingly sappy and in love with people under the cut. beware of cavities from the sweetness.

@heauxzenji god you are really the love of my mf life. i talk to you more than i talk to my irl bestfriends and i live with them. i’m glad i can wake you up with horny thoughts everyday but its kinda homophobic that you are three hours behind me. manifesting that this year we get to see each other so our gay horny love can be actualized.

@sugardaddykenma lin you are simultaneously my love and my aunt and i wouldn’t have it any other way. please send me more snaps of you screaming because the really make me laugh. im happy we are genuine friends and i care about you so much. will flee to canada on a moments notice, on your beck and call my love.

@satendou spencer you are my wife and live teasingly close to me. i’m so happy i got drunk that one night and you messaged me because i was way too nervous to message you even though i wanted to. you are fantastic and oneday we will both not be ghosts and really catch up. i love you regardless.

@keijiskitten laura. my baby kitty lauwa. please come be my irl catgirl i will buy the nicest collars. you are so so sweet and genuine and im blessed to have oun in my life. sometimes royal!au sneaks into my head when im doing other stuff just so you know that you have fully ruined me as a person but i love it.

@crushzone nin. my god you are the sweetest person on this godforsaken website. every interaction i’ve ever had with you has been nothing less than wonderful. thank you for being horny w me and drawing the cutest fucking photo of me and shinkami ever. now watch mha so we can talk about aizawa,

@sgwrscrsh skye baby girl. mwah. a kiss. thank you for reminding me ao3 exists all those months ago when you sent me in another life. you have ruined me as a person but i sent you that monster fic so maybe we are even. i love you. thank you for the christmas gift i loved it SO much.

@cno-inbminor kay. quick friends bc we are same person and i love u. please stream urr next baking session it makes me happy. also townes!sakusa. just a reminder so you can think about that sweater.

@samuslut wing we haven’t talked too much but i just want you to know i love you so much and admire your work and world building. you are a fantastic writer and a great person

@stallionissei miss cas!! we aren’t the closest but talking to you is literally always a pleasure and i love it. i hope your move is going ok and you all get settled down soon! lets talk soon!

@lesbians4yaku joy. my first love. you were one of my first friends on tumblr and im ever thankful for that. i care about you so so so much. just seeing your name and you exist makes me smile. we should talk about more evolutions soon because that was very very fun. enjoy your nips and this kiss im sending u *mwah*

to everyone in tumblr babies, i’m so glad i was there in the start of my journey. its such a safe and fun space. thank you for letting me tease *people* about glasses fetishes and just go buck wild in the thirst chats. thank you for voting me horniest member <3 @ceo-of-daichi @hqsoftboysupremecy @scorpiosanssexy @nonexistent-social-life

to my fellow gravediggers and funeral home employees. yes ive been in the server for like 3 months and yes i am already 8th in rank, no i don’t know how to shut up. thanks for dealing with me. You are my favorite home and i want to cook all you a meal and pet the babies. @xakusa @lumos-flies @tsumue @iwaasfairy @sasa-writes-fandom-things @sweet-sugu @keijiiszn

god, to all of my other mutuals i love you so much and you are all badass. i would fight the horny police and whatever 12 year old kids are in your inbox for all of you. you are all immensely talented and i still wonder why some of you follow me. thank you for every single reblog, comment, advice or like you’ve given me bc it shoots serotonin directly into my heart. which isn’t how its supposed to work but feels nice anyways.

@undermattsun @onefortyninecm @rat-suki @bakatenshii @godjo @dxddykeiji @saetyrn9 @introloves @pomsuki @lookslikeleese @tetsou @whats-her-quirk @blahkugo @dearsakusa @sugawarakoushihoe @stonersugawara @koutarouthighs @prettysetterbaby @heyhinata @seita @present-mel.

im going to stop tagging because m tumblr has crashed four times and im already close to max and i really really don’t want to type this out again. thank you to every person who has supported me and i can’t wait to see where this year leads us.

#personal.tea #im fucking sappy leave me alone

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mikkaeus · 3 years ago

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lessons from 1000 hours of tutoring high school kids - a letter to my past self

not all those hours were maths, but this is about maths

Not in order of importance; in the order they came to my head.

1. Do not trust a kid when they say that they understand something. They understand jack shit. Make them explain it back to you.

2. When teaching sth new try to prod them to reaching the conclusion themselves instead of just straight up explaining it, if time permits.

3. Things I have assumed and have been sorely mistaken:

a) If an area is identified to be an issue in the lesson, the kid will go and do some questions and revise themselves to fix it.

b) Kids take notes. (I’m still kicking myself for only realising this more than 6 months in with this kid. I get paid too much to be making stupid mistakes like this.)

c) Kids know how to take notes. (Session 1: Take notes, here is a detailed outline that you can then expand on with examples and stuff. Session 2: The kid has copied my scaffold word for word and not expanded anything on it. Me: You need to actually EXPLAIN how to complete the square for example, not just write “completing the square”. Kid: Okay yeah I get it. Session 3: For each topic he’s googled an explanation and copied entire paragraphs word for word, because he “thought they’d phrase it better than him”. He’s using terminology that I 100% guarantee he does not understand at all. I now understand why high school teachers always said use your own words when making notes - something that I had always thought should be blindingly obvious to everyone.)

4. Not everyone is as obsessed with not making mistakes or not being able to solve problems are you are. (For these kids, being stumped at a difficult question isn’t the end of the world.) They think a question ends at figuring out the answer, whether that be from the help of a textbook, the solutions, their friend, or me. You need to impress upon them that it doesn’t matter what the answer is! It’s about what you learn from the question. How was the way they were thinking about the question incorrect? How can they avoid this in the future? What general advice can they give themselves? And then they need to actually commit to reducing incidences of the same mistake in the future. Some kids I’ve been giving the same damn advice to every problem they get stuck on, and magically they can solve it after I give them the advice. Just remember the general advice!! You’re spending all this time studying but you’re running into the same wall over and over again instead of remembering to take the rope out of your bag. I’m not magic! I’m just sitting here reminding you that there IS a rope in your bag!! (Not that my method of angry scribbling in red pen across my working and writing that I’m a fucking idiot is something I’d actually recommend, but they could definitely afford to be less laissez-faire about learning from their mistakes.)

5. Actually make good notes during the session; otherwise, the kids probably retain nothing. It is kinda awkward to be sitting there writing away but it is a necessarily evil. Also, you can write while they’re chipping away at a question themselves, and that way you don’t need to be watching them like a hawk while they do algebra painfully slowly. (I feel like kids make more mistakes in sessions than they do normally.)

6. The key to being able to solve a problem is believing that you CAN solve the problem. I’ve been saying this a lot recently - if you follow the rules for maths, there’s no reason it should be wrong - when I have Year 11s and 12s asking me every step of simple algebra if something is correct, or asking whether you’re allowed to do something, and I ask them, “what do you think?” and they reply, “I don’t know.” (Related: Another thing I’ve been saying a lot is that algebra is about doing the same thing to both sides. They just think it’s magic!) Anyway, I brought this up because of problem solving questions actually, not basic algebra. Of course, you can teach them how to break down the question, or general processes like “if you don’t have enough information, go back and check you’ve used everything in the question”, but all that’s useless if they don’t believe that they can solve it by themselves. That means

a) You need to actually encourage them. Even though you’re not a... fluffy or particularly inspiring person, just try.

b) YOU need to believe that they can do it too. Think of the number of times you’ve been shocked that some kid managed to make a leap of logic you thought was beyond them. Kids are better than you think (and also worse than you think, but we’ve already talked at length about that).

7. It’s most of the time more beneficial to force the kid to go through the expanded version of the working instead of the abbreviated version. They’re not you, trying to economise as much as possible on working to save precious seconds for rechecking at the end. Don’t push that obsession onto them when their goals and skill level is completely different. Especially if they’re:

a) making silly mistakes

b) not understanding why something works and just following the pattern for a specific context, and then being completely lost in another context. (eg. not being able to use the null factor law for when the factors weren’t linear with a gradient of 1, because they always skipped straight to x= instead of actually writing out each factor equalling zero, and then rearranging).

8. Stop lecturing for too long. Make sure you’re writing stuff down, not only for the purpose of notes for them to look at later, but because not everyone’s good with auditory learning (you’re one of those people! and yet you subject others to the same shit you rant about out length about your professors!). Make them do work through a problem or part of a problem or ask them questions or something.

9. A lot of kids do not know how to study properly. A few important things:

a) Do not automatically look back at past questions when solving a Q. You need to treat every question as completely new, and only look back if you’re stuck. That way you force active recall every question and thus making sure you’re actually remembering what the process is. You don’t get any worked examples in your exam.

b) I do not know how this is every single fucking kid but knowing how to use your dang calculator saves lives!! It’s literally 50% of your grade and you’re sitting there two days before your exam struggling to graph a parabola??? After all the hours you poured into studying the content? Yes your calculators are gross and unfriendly but they’re your best friend. Not only should you know how to use them, you should be fast at using them, and you should know everything it can do that could be remotely helpful.

c) Sit full exam papers under exam conditions. That shit is like gold and kids are piddling it away by just leisurely working through one question at a time with the help of their textbook (and me).

d) Print out the formula sheet, and use it. Know what’s on there and what’s not.

I don’t know if this is a pretty standard experience for people with a track record of excellent academic results* (by this I mean just assuming some things are obvious to everyone) or if I’m particularly bad because I’ve always only interacted with a very narrow range of people. anyway feels fucking bad for my kids but. im trying. god knows ive come a long way since i first started.

*or as I prefer to state it, a track record of being a huge fucking nerd

#writing these reflections always gives me high school ptsd #the visceral fear i got when i didnt know how to solve a question #esp if my friends could solve it since they're all smart as shit #because i *needed* as close to 100% as possible in those exams #sheesh #ramblings

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thatmultifandomhoe · 4 years ago

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Type 2

Word Count: 10,755

Overview: You were diagnosed with Type 2 Diabetes in high school and ever since then, you’ve been able to manage it without a problem. Sticking to a schedule and monitoring your blood was easy, but then came Jimin and suddenly, you found yourself hiding it all from him. But when your blood sugar drops dangerously low in the middle of the night, Jimin’s the only one you can call for help.

Pairing: Jimin and Reader

Genre AU/Rating: - Established Relationship AU - Medical Condition AU - Slice of Life AU - Angst - Fluff Rated: PG-13

Warning: In order of appearance-: Implied bullying, extreme thirst, lack of appetite, weight loss, passing out, type 2 diabetes, drinking, swearing, insecurities, needles, mention of blood while using a blood glucose meter, extremely low blood sugar.

A/N: This is not the story of everyone who goes through Type 2 Diabetes. Not everyone has it when they’re in high school. This fic is loosely based on my experience with caring for my mother who is diabetic, and based on my own family’s history with this condition. My mother who almost her entire family is diabetic, so it was only a matter of time that she would become diabetic, except she was able to keep from being diagnosed until her mid to late 50s. That is not to say you can’t be diagnosed as young as high school or even in middle school, it can happen, I went to middle school with a girl who had a pump in 8th grade. This is just one story.

Master List:

Music Playlist:

Part of the Intimacy Anthology Project

©thatmultifandomhoe 2020. Do not repost, translate, or use my stories without permission.

It first started in high school.

But when you actually sat down and thought about it, the early symptoms were there a year prior in eighth grade. More often than not, your throat was dry, so you always had a water bottle next to you. Back then though it wasn’t as bad. Plus, any conversation with one of the girls who wore makeup every single day – it was always shocking when they announced that their mothers let them – swore that drinking a gallon of water a day, would help with maintaining clear skin.

Whether or not there was logic to this declaration was to be remain hidden – many years later you would learn that actually, there was no science between drinking water and having acne free skin – you and all the other girls hopped on the train. It was because of this promise of clear skin, that no one batted an eye when you began going through a bottle a day, or the fact that you were using the bathroom more often as well.

You were fourteen. Your body was changing, nothing made sense anymore. Happy one minute, then curled up in fetal position as that depressing Sarah McLachlan commercial played on the TV, and you were telling your parents that they needed to adopt a kitten because it was the right thing to do. How were you even supposed to know that what was happening, actually wasn’t all that normal?

Mom simply handed over your water bottle, a bag of the secret stash of chocolate, and a heated rice bag for the cramps, and everything was decently better.

You only thought the sudden extreme thirst was…part of it all.

In freshman year, you were going through bottles to the point that you bought a cute reusable water bottle that you decorated with stickers, never willing to admit how many times you had tipped it back for it to be empty. You weren’t exactly the poster child for going green and advocating climate change, but you weren’t stupid either and knew that the plastic bottles weren’t going to help the Earth.

The popular girls from eighth grade had surged up the ladder, and were now the queens of the freshman class and upturned noses. No longer were they giving compliments or suggestions on how to blend eyeshadow, or discussing the latest trends in fashion. Instead, they ignored the good mornings in the hallways from girls, and laughed as they slammed textbooks out of their hands. Smiles turned into grimaces, and helpful tips morphed into jeering and mean comments usually centered around everyone’s looks.

While you tried to not let their lies get to you, you couldn’t help but pause by a mirror and turn every which angle possible, trying to see the flaws that they pointed out all the time. It was confusing because to be perfectly honest, you were average. There was nothing that made you stand out from the crowd, nor did you hide in the shadows, you were simply in the middle and that never bothered you.

You never gave them the satisfaction of letting them see how their words affected you on the simple fact that they didn’t. Maybe you’d shrug, or raise an eyebrow, before turning away to drink from the trusty water bottle by your side. They meant nothing to you, but everyone around you thought that they did. Friends were quick to jump on the reassurance train, their gazes lingering on the food you barely touched. Even when it was taco Tuesday, you’d barely eat half of it or even less before getting full.

No one seemed to believe that you were full, or that drinking two whole bottles of water by noon made it impossible to shove more than a few bites down your throat.

Dinner was always hard. Sat between mom and dad, the looks they’d give each other as they watched you push at the small amount of food on your plate never went unnoticed. You’d lost track of all the times that mom came into your bedroom to ask if everything was okay, if the girls at school were saying things, or if there was perhaps a guy you were trying to impress. If only you’d gotten a dollar for every time someone asked you that, you would have been a millionaire by sixteen.

Soon you were making excuses to not have to eat around people, saying that you had made up a plate of whatever was left in the fridge and weren’t hungry. At school you started bringing a brown bag lunch. Since you weren’t eating the food you bought, it didn’t make sense to waste money on it. It took a while for your friends to get that you just weren’t hungry, but eventually they knew not to bring it up, letting you eat as little as you want and drink water.

That was fine with you. You were fine, that was what you told them and you wanted them to believe them. You didn’t want them to know that every night before bed you stood in front of the mirror on your wall, turning side to side and every which way to see the new curves from your chest to your hips, or the gap between your thighs.

They didn’t need to know that you despite the fact that you’d refill the water bottle three times a day at school, you’d refill it four additional times at home. Or how your belt now had extra holes that you had punched in it an attempt on your part to keep what was happening a secret.

Every weekend was reserved for sleepovers, movies, and at home facials with you and your friends, equally rotating between everyone’s house to keep it fair on who hosted. It was how you were able to relax and have fun, but it was hard to hide the sudden changes. At first, you started arriving already in your PJs, that way none of them had to see you change, but then they stared as you barely touched any of the snacks. The same ones that you all used to bake together. Then every time you got up to use the bathroom they’d sigh, having to pause the movie or wait for you to come back to continue playing whatever board game was out.

After three attempts, you stopped going to the sleepovers, giving some excuse that you weren’t feeling well, or that you were behind on a pile of homework. Whether they believed it or not, your friends accepted it without a second thought.

Those months of confusion and sudden changes felt like they were moving at a snail’s pace, but then one day you blinked and it was two days before Christmas, and none of your clothes fit you anymore. Everything was hanging on you, you were in the bathroom multiple times within a couple hours, and your throat felt like it was filled with sand that no matter how much water you drank, never seemed to offer any relief.

It was a vicious cycle that no one could ignore anymore. You weren’t yourself anymore, barely even a shell of the human who you had once been.

The morning it happened you had once again been in the bathroom going pee. When suddenly, your head felt heavy, too burdensome for your shoulders, so you leaned back against the wall to relieve yourself of some of the weight. Black dots filtered in your vision as you cleaned yourself up, the toilet flushing as you stumbled to the sink. The water rushed from the sink as you stood in front of the mirror, barely able to make out your own reflection and going fuzzy when you walked out of the bathroom, forgetting to turn off the water or the lights as you left. You didn’t remember even opening the door.

Someone had been walking by at the moment, although they didn’t know it, you felt like your mind was underwater, unable to think let alone speak as you tried to go back to your room. It was your mother. She stared wide eye at you stumbling around the hallway like a drunk and when she called out your name, you didn’t even hear her.

She called your name again. Then a third time. It was on the fourth that you looked over at her, your mouth moving and filled with sand, only nothing come out. The last thing you saw was her running towards you. Then it was dark.

The next time you’d open your eyes it was with a stark realization that you were no longer at home. A glance to your left revealed box monitors and tubes of all types, one of them connected to the IV in your arm and the other going to a monitor that was attached to your pointer finger. The bed wasn’t comfy and at some point, someone had changed you out of your PJs and into a light green hospital gown.

The door opened as a nurse in blue scrubs walked in, her blond ponytail pulled high up as she carried a chart, smiling when she saw you.

“Good to see that you’re awake,” she said, coming to your side to read the numbers, marking some notes down. “How are you feeling?”

Wetting your lips, you tried to speak but like always, your throat was dry.

The nurse glanced over and seeing your struggle, held up a finger as she walked to the connected bathroom, water suddenly running before being turned off as she came back with a plastic cup.

“Go slow,” she instructed, helping to bring the mattress up so you were sitting as she gave you the cup.

It took a few minutes, but when your throat wasn’t so dry, you tried again. “What happened? Where…where are my parents?”

She was changing out the IV bag for a new one, and you wondered if your body had really emptied that packet dry. “You passed out hun, but don’t worry, your parents just went to get some snacks from the vending machine. I’ll go get them and then the doctor will be right in to explain everything.”

“Am I okay?”

Her badge turned right side, showing her ID and that her name was Jenna. “Everything will be fine. The doctor will explain and answer any questions.”

You watched as Jenna connected a new IV bag, once again reassuring that she’d be back with everyone before leaving the room as the cold liquid entered your veins, surprising you with how good it felt.

Jenna kept her promise. First bring round your parents who hurried to hug you, telling you how worried they were about you and asking how you felt. In only a few short minutes the doctor came back with the nurse, smiling as she pulled out a chair to sit on.

It wasn’t cancer, nor was it anything uncommon that would puzzle the doctors on how you got, but rather something that you had heard of all the time in health classes.

You were diabetic. Type two to be exact.

They had run some blood tests and from what they were able to tell, your blood sugars had dropped low during your sleep and hadn’t gone back up when you woke. Combined with the loss of weight and dehydration you were experiencing, your body’s natural instinct was to protect itself and, in this case, that meant passing out.

The doctor reassured that it at least explained the various changes you had been experiencing, and as grateful as you were to finally understand what was going on, it now meant that your way of life was going to change, again.

Now your life revolved around using a glucose meter to check your blood sugar throughout the day, taking medicine that would help regulate your numbers, cutting back on sweets and various other foods that had tended to make them high. Slowly but surely you were able to gain back some of the weight you had lost, and the trips to the bathroom slowed down. You were living a new life trying to find the perfect balance.

One thing had been made clear by the doctor that day. This was lifelong. It was never going to go away; it was something that could only be managed.

So, you managed. All through high school, and then all through college, you managed to maintain your numbers, discovering that when you felt sluggish and off it usually meant your blood sugar was either really high or really low. Besides that, you normally felt fine and took shots at mealtimes and before bed to help regulate your levels.

That was the second, biggest change in your life. Every pill and medicine that the doctor prescribed to help with your levels had its side effects, and the world must have had a grudge on you because every single one made you ill or have a reaction. Usually insulin was a last resort option, but in your case, it was the only thing that appeared to help.

Downside to taking the shots were the prices, they were the true killer, but like everything in your life, you managed it all. Your parents of course worried, and the day you had moved out was perhaps the most nerve wracking for them. You were going to be on your own for the first time ever, it was a big moment, and as much as you appreciated and loved them, it was time for you leave home.

Having this new lifestyle didn’t mean you couldn’t do anything; your life was perhaps more or less the same as any other adult that you knew who was your age. Went to work five days a week as a dental hygienist, spent the weekends catching up on chores, and binge watching the latest shows on Netflix.

The only thing missing, was a love life.

It wasn’t that you didn’t try. There were multiple first dates and a couple second dates, but rarely was there a third. No matter what you did or how you tried to explain it, they all got uncomfortable when you mentioned that you were diabetic. At first it didn’t seem like it would be an issue. But when you’d get up a few minutes before the meal came and you’d explain that you needed to take a shot, they all clammed up. Like they were suddenly realizing that what you were more trouble than you originally appeared to be. That you actually had a condition that affected your life.

After that they’d stop calling, the texts they’d send were more apologetic and that they were busy. There were never anymore dates after that, and unable to help yourself you’d check their social media, not surprised when there were new pictures with a new girl, usually captioned with some type of heart emoji.

If they were dumping you for something that was out of your control, then you were the lucky one for avoiding what could be a toxic relationship. At least, that’s what you told yourself. It was good that you were waiting for the right person, but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt. How could anyone decide that you weren’t worth the time simply because you needed to take insulin?

You were a human being. Nowhere did it say you didn’t deserve love.

Despite that mindset, you once again found yourself coming home from a date that had no future of a third. Tossing your keys on the bed, you rummaged around your purse for the two cases stashed inside, still dressed in the cute outfit that had taken a majority of the morning to decide on. The cases themselves were adorable, and pretty cheap on Amazon. The first was purple and no bigger than your palm while zipped up. The second one was a light blue wristlet that was slightly longer.

You sighed while setting them on the nightstand, resentment filling your heart. The purple bag contained your pen and glucose meter with the test strips, and the other had your insulin, alcohol wipes, and spare needles. They were the very things that you needed to stay alive. They told you your numbers, it was how you decided on how many units to take with meals, and yet, they appeared to be a part of the reason that you couldn’t seem to hold on to a relationship.

It just fucking…sucked.

No longer caring that you had spent several hours to get the curls just right, you ran a hand through your hair. Mike had made it clear after your explanation for why you needed the light blue case just to go to the bathroom, that there wasn’t going to be a second date.

Which is fine, you thought, kicking off your heels and pulling your legs up to sit criss cross on the bed. He only talked about himself the entire time. And his ex-wife.

Maybe it was because you were telling them early on. Wasn’t there some unwritten rule about not talking about medical things on the first couple dates? Granted, a majority of them wanted to go out to eat for the dates and you couldn’t exactly not take a shot, but it wasn’t like you were doing it right there at the table. You always went to the restroom and used the stall with the changing table to be able to lay everything out.

Glancing at the two cases, you pressed your lips together. This was a major part of your life; it was part of your identity. But maybe…maybe if they didn’t know? What if you hid this from the next guy? It probably wouldn’t do much, if it did, were you really going to hide such an important part of yourself in the name of love?

They always seem to run off when I tell them, you thought. What’s the harm in waiting, and seeing if it’ll last more than a few dates before I tell?

It seemed pretty extreme. But there was only one way to find out.

As you settled back against the pillows, turning on Netflix once again, you couldn’t but hope that this didn’t backfire on you.

“You did what?”

Pressing your lips together, you rested your forehead against the fridge. It was a bad idea to tell you best friend what you had done. You knew that she’d say it was wrong to lie, to hide such an important part of your life from him. She was the voice of logic and reason, which was terrifying at times, but that was Kayla.

Grabbing the milk from the fridge, you glanced over your shoulder. She was staring at you, eyebrow raised as she tapped her nails against the table, waiting to hear your excuse.

“I…I haven’t told him.”

“And you’ve been dating for how long now?”

You stirred the mug until it was caramel in color, starring down at the coffee and partially wishing that you could shrink and run away from her reaction. “Three months.”

“Dude!”

Wincing, you stashed the milk away to carry the two cups of coffee to the table, setting Kayla’s down on the cozy you had out. She thanked you, absentmindedly stirring the spoon out of habit.

It was a Saturday ritual the two of you had since meeting in college. The two of you bonded while waiting in an excessive line for coffee on campus, and despite it being ridiculously long, neither one of you was willing to leave. Coffee was what you considered your life blood, and funny enough, so didn’t Kayla.

That day forward, the two of you always got coffee together before classes, and on Saturdays you bought a box of munchkins with iced coffee before retreating back to the lounge to relax and bitch about anything and everything. She knew about your diabetes, didn’t mind that you could only have a few treats before stopping, and when she hung out in your dorm room, she hadn’t been uncomfortable with seeing you having to take a shot.

After that semester, the two of you became roommates for the reminder of college. Even after graduating and moving out in the real world, getting real jobs, Saturdays were still for coffee and bitchin’.

“Walk me through this decision again?” She asked, reaching over for one of the glazed munchkins.

You lightly tapped the spoon against the rim of the coffee mug, slouching in your seat as you wrapped your fingers around it. The warmth spread through your fingers instantly, soothing a few nerves for the moment. Kayla was your best friend yes, but she also had very strong opinions.

“I was just, sick of finding dead ends,” you answered, staring down at the mud colored coffee. Just the way you liked it. “Every time I had explained that I needed to take a shot to manage my blood sugar, they all froze up. And then they’d tell me after the date ended that it wasn’t going to work, or they’d ghost me without any warning.”

It sucked. It really did, but for once you just wanted to be with someone and be happy. There had already been too many times that you’d gotten your hopes up over a guy only for it to end, without even an explanation no less.

Kayla covered your hand with hers, gently squeezing when you looked up at her. Her red hair was pulled up in a ponytail, her freckles scattered across her face and body. She refused to cover them up with makeup, and even then, you wouldn’t dare let her do so either. As much as you treasured her, you had witnessed first-hand her attempting to do makeup so badly that it nearly sent you to cardiac arrest.

“Hey,” she softly said. “Those guys were dick bags, there’s no need to beat yourself over them.”

Chuckling, you raised the mug to your lips, glancing in the living room. The apartment wasn’t the largest or the fanciest, but you were able to leave a piece of yourself in each room. Sunlight streamed through the bay window and through the dream-catcher you had hanging on the lock. Bailey, Kayla’s little teacup terrier, was taking advantage of said light and was napping on the couch.

“I’m guessing I should have sent them all to you?”

“Of course,” Kayla agreed, leaning back in the chair. “I would have kicked their asses and told them what type of scum they are.”

You reached over for your own munchkin, placing it on the saucer to break it in half. “Sorry, but I think you’ve missed your chance.”

“Dammit.”

Amused, you popped a piece into your mouth, enjoying the sweetness of the chocolate. Life had certainly taken the two of you in directions that neither of you expected, but you treasured these Saturdays. It was like nothing had changed and you were back in college, talking about the classmates that annoyed the crap out of you, pointing out the cute ones, and procrastinating on the assignments that needed to be done.

“So, are you going to tell me about him?” Kayla asked. “Last thing you said was that your neighbor was setting you up. Does he deserve the best friend approval?”

At the thought of Jimin, you were grinning into your coffee, coyly trying to avoid eye contact with her as she squealed. Her reaction was so strong that it woke Bailey up, causing her to bark a few times. Which was more adorable than it was intimidating like the dog probably thought.

Flipping your phone screen side up, you went to go find a picture of him for her. “He’s very, very sweet,” you said, handing the device over for her to scroll through. “And kind. He works at the animal shelter in town, loves to take Polaroid pictures, and he indulges in my coffee addiction.”

“I love him already.”

You grinned at that, taking a drink as she cooed and laughed at the various photos, and you began to tell her the story about how you met him.

As much as you hate to admit it, you had been apprehensive about your downstairs neighbor set you up with his friend for a blind date. It wasn’t that you were complete strangers with Taehyung - the guy was pretty chill and kept things interesting with constantly dying his hair - it had been more along the lines that you didn’t know much about him besides the conversations the you shared before going your separate ways.

According to your neighbor, your dating life – or non-existent one – hadn’t gone amiss on him either, and conveniently had a friend who was also in the single pool for quite some time, so he thought it would be nice to help you out. Actually no, he flat out told you he was setting the two of you up for a date. With only a moment’s hesitation were you able to say no dinner dates before he disappeared inside, tossing a thumb’s up over his shoulder for you and shut the door.

The next morning when you left for work, there was a sticky note on your door telling you to be at the 10th annual Flower Shower festival that Saturday for one. Jimin would be waiting at Paws for Days, the animal shelter.

The Flower Shower festival the town’s way of sharing their love of flowers and nature with everyone. Every shop that decided to participate in the event was assigned a different type of flower, and with that, they decorated their stores with it. They were then automatically entered into a contest to see who was the most creative with their assigned floral. First place was given a trophy stating that they were the winners of that year’s festival, and second and third were given ribbons and a plant of their choice.

What made it such a hit, was perhaps was the event that gave it its namesake. During the day, not only were there flowers decorated on the storefronts, but each company was able to hand out coupons for their flower that could be turned in at one of the many floral shops in the area. There were stalls for making and selling flower crowns, jewelry, perfumes, anything and everything imaginable that could incorporate flowers into a product filled the streets to be sold. Even food vendors went all out with all the stops.

Filling in any empty spaces were local artists, using any and all varieties of flowers to create sculptures, sometimes of small animals that a person could hold in their hands, to ones so large that it required ladders and multiple hands to help. Face and body painters had kids and adults of all ages waiting in line, eagerly handing over the few bucks to be decorated with flowers and various other decorative forms of flower power.

It was like the hippie movement met modern times for a day.

Perhaps the most beautiful of all the events, was the parade that happened at the end of the day. The festival couldn’t last all night since it would be hard to see the flowers, so the ending parade occurred at six. All the contest participants and winners walked along with the vendors and painters, each carrying baskets with flower petals or single flowers to throw out to the crowd, and while they held the attention of everyone, up on the rooftops of all the buildings were volunteers who waited for their to cue to toss buckets of petals on to the crowd below. It was as if the entire world was hitting pause on the bitterness of life, to enjoy a moment of beauty to take a shower, made out of flowers.

You never knew what it was about flowers that had the entire town obsessed with them, there were at least six shops dedicated to flowers and bouquets – one at least in particular focused mainly on gardening tools, sculptures, and fountains – within the downtown area.

Which made having your first date with Jimin at the Flower Shower festival all the more pleasing. It was more exciting and had plenty of things to do than going to another restaurant, but at the same time, a bit nerve wracking. Not only was it another first date, with a guy that you’ve never met in your life, hoping that your neighbor hadn’t set you up with some weirdo. This was the first date you were going on with the decision to not tell him about being diabetic.

Even though you weren’t going to bring it up, you still packed the cases into your purse, not wanting to risk needing it and not having them on you. After dressing in shorts and a loose flowery blouse with sandals, even doing your makeup lightly to match with the summer theme, you were ready to go out. Butterflies were fluttering in your stomach, but your hand had been shaking to the point that you had to set down the mascara brush or stab yourself in the eye with it.

This was your first chance at seeing if it really made such an impact on your love life, making it felt like you were stepping into the dating scene all over again. That was what made it terrifying. This simple date would tell you whether or not you weren’t able to hold a relationship because of your lifestyle, or if it was because of you.

If it was because of the needles, then that you could understand. Not everyone was fond of them, and dealing with having to give yourself shots four times a day can be annoying at times, but if it was because of you in general…well, that was the ultimate sucker punch to the gut.

Before you could let yourself get lost in the sink hole of self-doubt, you forced yourself to leave, locking the door without even thinking to double check that you had everything that you needed. Luckily, you did.

It was to your advantage that you lived downtown. Walking to the shops only took five, maybe ten minutes if you were feeling lazy and with the location of Paws for Days in mind, you headed down the street in its direction.

The sun was high in the sky, occasionally blinding you when you passed by the tall buildings and gaps in the trees, but you felt the heat of the sun on your arms, and saw the clear bright blue sky overhead. It all helped to take your mind off what Jimin was like. Hell, you didn’t even know what he looked like. All that Taehyung wrote was that he would be outside by the shelter’s sign.

Nearing the heart of town, you weren’t all that surprised to see that nearly everyone in town was walking the streets, making it almost impossible to tell them apart from the people who were working.

Paws for Days was a street down from being smack in the center of town, and resembled a large farmhouse with floor to ceiling windows on the front entrance, allowing everyone to look in and see the cats and occasional dog walking around the front of the store. They took in animals of every breed, and were also a no-kill shelter. During the warm months it was common to hear dogs barking in the larger fenced in area behind the building as the animals played and ran about, enjoying the time out in the sun.

As you neared the shelter, it was the sound of barking and kids laughing that made you smile. In their front lawn, staff had set up play pen areas for the smaller dogs to sit out on the grass and roll around. Parents with babies carefully held them as they leaned down, allowing their child to gently pet animals and laughing as their palms get licked. There were other areas for the larger dogs, but a large banner that was attached to the shelter’s roof stole your attention.

Paws for Days 10th Annual Adoption Day!

You hadn’t realized that in addition to it being the tenth anniversary of the Flower Shower festival, it was also an anniversary for the shelter as well. Staff was walking around with blue shirts with the name of the shelter written in black, a little black paw print serving as the period. Flower crowns made out of orange cream roses sat on everyone’s head, and as you looked around, a group of people around your age appeared to be constructing a giant sculpture of a…well, it had paws and the lower half of an animal body.

Maybe later you’d come back and see what it turned out to be.

Continuing towards the shelter, you tried to look for the sign, but with a swarm of people walking in your way so they could either play with the animals or actually go inside to adopt, it took a little longer to reach your destination.

When you finally broke through and stepped away to the side to catch a breather, you were able to see the shelter’s wooden sign. To no one’s surprise, there was a stone statue of a cat and dog sitting next to each other, with a bird on top of the dog’s head. It was adorable.

The man standing next to the sign however, was godly looking.

“No, fucking way,” you said, taking advantage of the fact that he was looking at his phone to stare at him.

The fact that his hair was dyed wasn’t shocking – you had partially expected that considering Taehyung was always dying his – but the mix of pink and orange hues suited Jimin so perfectly that it appeared natural on him. The sunlight glinted off of the silver chained earring he wore along with the silver rings on his fingers, all while standing out in a black t-shirt and jeans despite it being warm out. To top it all off, an orange cream rose flower crown that matched his hair color perfectly, was carefully placed on his head to resemble a halo, and he held on to a spare in his free hand.

Taehyung had completely, and utterly, forgotten to mention that his single friend, was insanely hot.

Maybe…maybe that’s not him, you thought, carefully wetting your lips as you walked over to him. Maybe this is some other guy, standing right where Taehyung had said, and was waiting for someone else.

He slipped his phone into his pocket before you were able to reach him and looked up, meeting to meet your gaze. The wire framed sunglasses he wore were tinted with pink lenses.

“Hi,” he said. His voice was soft and gentle, putting your nerves at ease as he smiled widely when you got closer. “You’re Taehyung’s neighbor, right?”

You shyly smiled, nodding as you supplied your name, which only helped to make the corner of Jimin’s eyes crinkle as he repeated your name. To you, your name was just that, a name. Nothing more and nothing less. But hearing he say it, it was like a pretty melody slipping out of his mouth.

Jimin held up the spare flower crown, pressing his lips together as he chuckled. “I hope you don’t mind, but I got you one. Is it okay if I…?”

“Of course,” you answered. It was sweet that he had gotten one for you, and as he stepped closer to put it on your head, you felt your cheeks warming up at how close he was. You were even able to catch a whiff of his cologne, just the faintest scent that wasn’t overwhelming like how some people tended to bathe in perfume.

“They’re roses,” Jimin explained, adjusting the crown so it sat on your head like his. “Orange roses. I had to ask for them specifically in case any of the animals tried eating them. Roses at least, are not as poisonous as a lot of other flowers.”

“They’re still toxic to them though, right?”

Jimin leaned back, quirking an eyebrow as his smile softened to grin. “Well, I don’t recommend eating them, for either animals or humans. They’ll probably make you sick...”

“He’s a smartass just like us,” Kayla interrupted, grinning as she handed you back your phone.

Laughing, you nodded in agreement. “Yeah, he can be. But he’s just, one of the sweetest guys I’ve met.” Double tapping your phone, the lock screen revealed itself to be a picture of Jimin. You had taken it one day when you went and visited him at the shelter. He had been holding one of the calico cats, even rubbing his nose against hers, and your heart melted at the sight. Now your heart melted every time you turned on your phone.

“And he really has no idea?”

The room fell silent then. Which wasn’t surprising considering that the two of you were introverts at heart, but together, you were loud and proud. Add in coffee and the entire world better watch out.

“Jimin’s seen me check my blood,” you slowly answered. The phone screen went black when you didn’t swipe it. “He saw the meter one day, so I explained that with my family history, that I have it as a way to monitor my blood.”

Usually, you had been so good about hiding your meter and needles when Jimin came around to your home. For some reason on that day, it had slipped your mind and the next thing you knew, Jimin was holding it up and asking about it.

You weren’t outright lying. The family history wasn’t that decent, and you did have to check your blood, so it was more of a partial truth. Maybe it was because he had seemed curious and interested in the item, but ever since that day, guilt had been gnawing away at your heart. You were still avoiding the truth, and if you wanted this relationship to work out, the only way it could would be if you told him.

Looking away from the coffee, you pressed your lips together upon seeing the way Kayla was gazing at you, her eyes softening as she opened and closed her mouth repeatedly. There were no words needed however. You knew that it wasn’t going to end well if you remained silent, but the lingering fear was still there.

What if it was too much for Jimin? What if after you told him, he decided that it wasn’t worth it? That you, weren’t worth it?

It was all just…terrifying.

“You know,” Kayla gently said, reaching out and reassuringly squeezed your hand. “If for some reason, it doesn’t work out…Bailey and I got a spare room for you to have.”

She had offered you the spare room more times than you could remember, especially after graduation, but you loved the town you grew up in. It was home and had everything you always wanted. But you squeezed her hand back tightly, looking up at her with a smile.

“I thought that was Bailey’s room?”

“Oh, it is. She’s fucking spoiled rotten. You’re the only human being I’d sacrifice my queen-sized bed for a bunk bed.”

Laughing, you shook your head as Kayla joined in. Even Bailey tried barking at the sudden noise.

You had to tell Jimin the truth. There was no if, ands, or buts about it. For right now, you were willing to pretend for a little bit longer, wanting to savor in his love before it all came crashing down.

You leaned over Jimin, stretching your hand out for the wine glass on the coffee table, his palm sliding down your back to your hip as you moved about. When you settled back against his side, the wine glass in hand, his chest shook as he chuckled when you tried to take a sip only to realize that you would have to sit up to get a decent drink.

“Oh shush,” you murmured, lightly swiping at his shoulder.

It only made Jimin giggle even more though, and a glance at his own wine glass that was sitting on the wooden floor by the couch revealed it to be empty. You were still on your first, knowing full well that there was a chance that a glass of your beloved Witching Hour Red Blend wine might spike your blood sugar, but Jimin had finished his first one within a half hour after arriving for dinner.

Not that you were going to judge. It was Friday night, neither of you had work tomorrow, and it was so damn good. There was no harm in letting loose and indulging in the fun adult drinks.

His keys were on the coffee table next to the black wine bottle along with his phone, and you must have eyed them for longer than you thought because next thing you knew, his hand was trailing up your back as he pushed himself up, capturing your attention.

“Sleepover?” Jimin said, locks of his pink hair falling into his gaze.

Smiling, you hummed in agreement, partially relieved that he wouldn’t go out driving, and partially thriving at the idea of waking up next to him tomorrow morning.

“Good, that means I can do this then…”

You frowned at first, suddenly gasping as the glass clinked against the rings on his fingers when he took your glass and raised it to his lips, successfully drinking about half of it in one gulp.

“You have your own glass,” you whined, pouting at the small amount he had left for you.

Jimin only grinned, setting the glass down on the table before pulling you close until he was able to claim you for a kiss. His lips tasted rich like cherries, and whether it was the wine talking or not, but he felt more intoxicating than anything you’ve ever had.

He swiped his tongue against your bottom lip before slipping in, his arms wrapping around your waist as the kiss grew in intensity, your hands unashamedly going under his t-shirt to roam up his body. Before you were able to crawl on top of him, he broke the kiss.

“No offense,” Jimin said, kissing your forehead to make up for suddenly stopping. “But your couch sucks to have sex on.”

That put a halt to where you mind had been going, recalling the one time the two of you ended up fucking on the couch. It had been rushed and both of you were too horny to even think about going to the bedroom.

“Yeah,” you agreed, giggling as you stood, taking the bottle and slipping your own glass between your fingers. With a coy smile, you walked backwards to your bedroom. “Good thing I have a fucking awesome bed though.”

His laughter filled the room as he swiped up his own glass, hurrying after you, and not just because you were holding the rest of wine hostage with the promise of sex, but because you were the one sweetly carrying his heart.

Blinking your eyes open, you frowned as you stared up at the ceiling, cold sweat making your hair stick to your forehead, the sheets wet underneath your back. You glanced to your side, the bright red numbers of the clock reading 3:00 A.M in the dark room, and on your right, Jimin’s soft snores reassured you that he was still asleep.

So why were you wide awake?

With careful movements, you moved so you were sitting on the edge of the bed, ignoring how the air hit your wet back. It was as if someone had turned up the heat despite it being summer. Everything was pointing towards a bad dream, it wouldn’t have been the first time that you woke up from a nightmare, unable to recall it but be drenched in sweat. It was with that mindset that you leaned down to pick up Jimin’s shirt, slipping it on to go to the bathroom, but the moment you stood on your own feet, the world slanted.

You barely caught yourself against the wall as you stumbled forward, feeling lost in a haze as you kept walking until you felt the sharp coldness of wooden floors on the bottom of your feet. The faint glow of the orange nightlight in a socket was blurry, acting as a guide as you stumbled around, trying to reach the kitchen table.

The meter. You needed your meter.

Head heavy, your heart raced in your chest when you suddenly felt the floor underneath you. A sharp pain slicing through your hip and a harsh whack had your leg aching, but it cleared away the haze, allowing you to think as you leaned against what you felt to be the couch.

Your eyes had adjusted to the darkness but you didn’t dare risk standing, but you couldn’t just sit there. There was nothing within your reach for you to grab and make noise. The last time something like this had happened was back in high school, and that had been when you ended up in the hospital. Whimpering, your body felt heavy as you tried to move, the soft pap sound of footsteps echoing in the short hallway barely catching your attention.

“Baby? I heard a thud, you okay?”

The light suddenly came on, burning your eyes as you tried to move, but like when you had first stood up, your head felt twenty pounds heavier, forcing you to lean back against the couch.

“What the fuck? Baby?!”

Jimin’s feet slammed against the floor as he hurried to sit in front of you, eyes wide awake as he cupped your cheek and wrapped an arm around your waist to bring you to rest against his chest. His fingers were blissfully cold compared to your heated skin, and for several moments, all you could focus on was his touch, unable to hear him call out your name several times.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you shakily inhaled as you tried to focus and ignore the way the world seemed to suddenly tilt again. “My meter,” you said, your voice hoarse. “I need to check my blood. Something…something’s wrong.”

Vaguely you pointed towards the kitchen table, but luckily, Jimin had seen you place the meter there on multiple occasions. After leaning you against the couch again, he hurried to the table, pushing random notebooks and mail out of the way to find the purple bag. With a tug at the zipper, it revealed the meter and pen you needed.

“Hey baby, stay awake, please.” Jimin said, gently touching the side of your face, still holding on to the bag and its contents. Despite having watched you use them; he didn’t understand how to work the machine.

Maneuvering his way behind you once again, his legs were on either side of you as he pulled you to his chest. The shirt you wore was damp and he tried to move your hair off your neck and forehead.

It took a few moments, hands fumbling as you put a test strip into the meter and using the pen to prick your finger, the blood pooling up without even having to squeeze the area. The screen beeped as it calculated the glucose level, beeping again with a final result.

“It says fifty,” Jimin read aloud. “Is that…is that not good?”

“No,” you said, eyes wide as you stared at the meter, knowing that it would get worse if it got any lower. “It’s too low, I need…sugar. Orange juice, ice cream, something.”

Lifting your hand up to the arm of the chair, you tried to pull yourself up to get something, but Jimin’s heart raced at the prospect of you trying to walk around in this state, so he held you tighter to keep you on the ground and stood up himself.

“I’ll get it,” he said. He didn’t even give you a chance to argue. Instead he hurried to get the food you had mentioned, already figuring that you needed stuff that either had natural sugars, or were found in the junk food.

His arms were full with food and dishes when he came back, not knowing what exactly you wanted or would be best for this situation. Even though he wanted to help out, wanted to make this easier and go away, he had no idea what to do. Never in his life had he come across a situation that was like this. All he knew was that from the way you were moving so slow and how there was little to no color to your skin, this wasn’t normal.

This wasn’t how you wanted to tell Jimin. Out of every scenario that you’ve mulled over, this wasn’t even in the top twenty. To find you in a state like this so soon in the relationship must be a scene out of a nightmare for him.

Seeing the Ben and Jerry’s ice cream he had gotten out, you reached over and grabbed it along with the spoon. The treat was rarely touched since it was stashed away for special occasions that you treated yourself to, but this time you took a spoonful of the Half Baked delight, wishing that this was a chance where you could relax and enjoy it.

While you were eating that spoonful, Jimin quietly removed himself from you. He didn’t speak as he went into the bathroom, the water running loudly in the otherwise silent house before it was turned off just as quickly, and returned to his place behind you. It was without a word that he gently gathered your hair, bringing it into the messy bun that you always threw it up in when the two of you decided on having a lazy day. The task at hand was almost all but forgotten when the cold cloth was set on the back of your neck.

The gesture itself had your eyes stinging, the reality of everything suddenly crashing around you and how this could have gone if Jimin wasn’t here. The shirt was originally Jimin’s and while his clothes usually hung on you, had been clinging to your skin and making it impossible for you to forget about. It hadn’t been the biggest concern you had at the moment, which forced you to put it to the back of your mind for the time being.

A stray whimper escaped your lips, capturing Jimin’s attention as you set the ice cream container down to cover your face with your hands, silencing the cries and trying to hide from him. He wasn’t running away or staring at you like something was wrong, nor was he accusing you of lying and deceiving him. Instead, he simply rested his chin on your shoulder, leaving soft kisses on your neck and cheeks.

“Don’t cry baby,” Jimin murmured, tilting his head to add a kiss to your shaking shoulders. “We’ll discuss this later. Right now, let’s get your blood sugar where it needs to be.”

As reassuring as that was, it only made you cry harder, the tears slipping through your fingers and dripping on to your thighs. He was right. You needed to focus on your blood sugar, but his soft whispers and the way his hands gently rubbed and squeezed your legs meant so much more.

For the first time in so long, a guy wasn’t disgusted by you. Instead he was here, doing the things that he could to help, and he was loving you.

When you finally felt like you could keep going, you sniffed and lifted your head, the lightest of touches caressing your cheek had your heart thumping. Again, you checked your blood. It went up ten points, but you sighed, and scooped out another spoonful of the ice cream in an attempt to raise it. It would probably be sky high by the time morning arrived, but it wasn’t going up fast enough at the moment.

Over the course of an hour, you sat on the floor in-between Jimin’s legs, checking your blood every ten minutes to see if it had gone up, and alternating between spoonsful of ice cream, cups of orange juice and peanut butter crackers, a combination that had your nose scrunching up every time.

Jimin stayed the entire time, only getting up to put away some of the food that you weren’t eating. Even after that he retook his spot and held you just tight enough to remind you that he wasn’t letting you go.

By the time it finally reached one hundred, you pushed the container of ice cream away from you and leaned back into Jimin’s embrace. It was still low. No longer did you feel out of control of your body, the sweat had dried to your skin and if you were to stand, you were certain that there wouldn’t be any more stumbling on your part. Although you doubted that Jimin would let you out of his sight for the next few days.

Neither of you spoke right away.

Wide awake in the dead of night, apparently not seeing any other option, Jimin reached out for the ice cream and took a spoonful for himself. The gesture itself was so simple, so ordinary, as if the two of you always woke up at the hour dedicated to artists who found solace under the stars and moon, to share a pint of ice cream on the living room floor, that you giggled.

Raising an eyebrow, the corner of Jimin’s mouth curled upwards at the sound of your laugh. He hadn’t realized that this scare would make him miss such a pretty sound so much. Licking the rest of the spoon clean as he maintained eye contact with you, he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively to make you laugh once more.

As much as you would rather spend the rest of the time making each other laugh and eating to your heart’s desire, you knew that he was owed an explanation to everything that’s happened.

“I was diagnosed in high school,” you said. Your gaze fell from his face to the floor, only then noticing that Jimin didn’t have any pants on. He had come rushing out in only his boxers and stayed in them this entire time. “I’m a type two diabetic, which means that my body produces the insulin that it needs, but for some reason my body doesn’t process it and rejects it.”

Jimin patiently listened to your explanation. As you spoke, the invisible weight that had settled on your shoulders when you decided to hide this part of your life was being chipped away at, piece by piece until it felt like you were free. The nerves didn’t fly away, instead they settled nicely in your stomach for the time being, not making themselves known until you closed your mouth, waiting for his reaction.

He took a deep breath, moving his hand to run it through his hair. “Does this happen a lot? Your levels dropping like this?”

“No. This…” you set a hand on his thigh, shaking your head. “I don’t know what happened. I took my shot before dinner, and then I took my night one.”

“Baby, I never saw you take any shot.”

Pressing your lips together, you closed your eyes, the butterflies having found the perfect moment to take flight right then and there. This was it, the moment you had been dreading this entire time. “I… I had my bag with my insulin pens and needles hiding in the bathroom.” You admitted.

His eyes scanned over you, making a mental note that you wouldn’t look at him and how your kept on rubbing your arm. Suddenly it made sense why you were always sneaking off to the restroom anytime the two of you went out to eat, and how you’d tap your nails and watch for the waiter when it took longer than you expected for the food to come out. “How long have you been hiding this?”

“Since we started dating.”

Jimin’s arms tightened around your waist, the reassuring weight of his head on your shoulder was now gone, and in that split second, your heart stopped. He was moving away, he didn’t want this, he didn’t want to be with you anymore, he—

Suddenly you were no longer staring at the floor in front of you, but Jimin’s bare chest until his fingers lifted your chin, forcing you to look him straight on. His dark brown eyes that usually disappeared when he was smiling and laughing, appeared to be drowning in the tears that slid down his cheeks.

“Why…why wouldn’t you tell me?” He asked, his voice light and cracking with every word while his bottom lip trembled. “What if I wasn’t here? You…you could have been on the floor until morning. And if this is how you get when it’s this low, it would have been worse if you waited to get help, or until someone found you.”

His hands were roaming around your back as he spoke, unable to settle down, like he had to constantly reassure himself that you were conscious and talking to him. It was only when he shook his head, a soft coo leaving his lips as he cupped your cheeks to run his fingers underneath your eyes, that you realized that you were crying too.

Leaning down, he pressed his forehead against yours, trying to wrap his mind around the fact that you had hid this from him. All he could think about was you being alone when this happened. It tore at him the possibility of you ending up in the hospital, or worse, you laying on the ground until you either made your way to a phone, or someone stumbling upon you on accident.

It plagued his heart, making it ache as he tilted his head to gently kiss your forehead. “Baby, why didn’t you tell me?”

It was such a simple reason for why you didn’t, but one that was without a doubt, rooted in your own selfish desire to protect yourself. Most importantly, to protect your heart from having to deal with constantly being let down by the men you let into your life. The idea had sprung out of fear and doubt, but every day that you spent with Jimin was enough to set those thoughts aside.

All the silly dates. The terrifying night where he let you help him dye his hair, the way his fingers traced your body with paths he long since memorized, and an afternoon where the two of you stayed inside while rain pattered against the windows when he suddenly said I love you, were enough to make you realize that Jimin wasn’t going run away.

Your eyes stung and tears slipped faster down your cheeks as you moved to press your forehead against his chest, his arms hugging your tightly. There was nothing for you to grip on to except his body, but you held on to him anyway.

Sensing that this ran deeper than you were ready to admit, Jimin gently kissed your cheek, resting his head against yours as he held you, softly stroking your back. His own back was sore from being hunched over for the last hour or so, and sitting on the floor was starting to leave an ache in his ass, but he was going to stay right there. As long as you needed him, he was going to be there, wherever and whenever you wanted him.

“It’s okay baby,” he said once your tears slowed down in volume. “We’re in this together, I promise.”

Those words had you wanting to cry all over again. For the first time in so long, someone wanted to stay with you, to help you, to love you for you, and that included the fact that you needed to constantly check your blood sugar and take insulin with your meals, and an additional one before bed. It was terrifying, a first, but so freeing at the same time.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, shakily kissing his chest in an attempt to fix some of the damage your secret has done. “I’m so sorry Jimin.”

He didn’t speak. Instead, he kissed your cheek again, his arms tightening just the slightest. Condensation from the ice cream was pooling on the floor and the mini candy bars that he had found were scattered about. Your meter was right beside him. Outside, the birds that had made their homes in the trees near your apartment were singing their sweet lungs out, a noise that usually made both of you want to bury your faces in the pillows. This time, it had Jimin looking towards the bay window and the sheer yellow curtains.

It was still dark out, but within an hour, the night sky would give birth to morning.

Glancing down, he saw that your legs were already wrapped around his waist. With no other reason not to, Jimin carefully stood up, using one arm to pull himself up by the couch and the other keeping a hold on you. He ignored the yelps and questions that left your mouth.

Instead, he settled down on the bay window and stretched his legs out in front of him, only loosening his grip on you when he was certain you wouldn’t slip and fall on the ground.

“What are you doing?” You said, cautiously letting go of Jimin to straighten up. It wasn’t the first time that he ever picked you up without warning, in fact, his habit of doing so was close to becoming normal. That didn’t mean you wouldn’t like a warning in advance occasionally.

He leaned backwards against the window pane, drawing his right leg up until he was able to prop his arm on his knee as he smiled at you. “Have you ever seen the sun rise?”

The question was so random, so opposite of everything that had been happening for the last hour and yet, your mind honed in on it and took advantage of the its simplicity. Shaking your head, Jimin’s smile grew as he tapped his thigh. His own way to gesture for you to turn and rest against his chest that you had learned early on in the relationship.

“The ice cream’s going to melt.”

You turned around however, once again leaning backwards against Jimin’s chest as his free arm encircled your body, pulling you firming in place.

“We’ll take care of that later. We’ll take care of everything later, I promise. Right now, I just want to watch the sun rise, with you.”

“You’re not mad at me?” You suddenly asked, staring at the early morning sky.

The other apartments and houses in the neighborhood were nothing more but shadows for the time being, and you weren’t entirely sure if the living room was facing the east or not. You didn’t tell him that though.

“No baby,” Jimin softly said, staring at the sky as well. “I’m a bit disappointed, and honestly, I’m still a little scared about what happened. But I’m not mad at you.”

Feeling his chest lift with a deep breath, you relaxed in his embrace. This wasn’t the end of the conversation. He deserved a real explanation for why you never told him, and he would get it this time.

As you shifted slightly, Jimin adjusted his arm with your movements, a soft chuckle escaping when you played with some of the silver rings that he had forgotten to take off before going to sleep.

“I love you.”

Your fingers paused, watching his fingers move and lace themselves with yours, calming your heart so it was no longer racing. Any butterflies that had been hanging around in-case there was a to be a second round of sudden doubt finally settled down, allowing you to enjoy this moment with Jimin. Instead of fear, a blanket of content draped itself on top of you.

“I love you too,” you said, bringing his hand up to your lips to kiss.

Somewhere out there, a bird was returning the melody of another song under the moonlight, and running on only a few hours of sleep wasn’t ideal. While it wasn’t the night that you planned or expected to have, as you waited for the sun to rise, Jimin occasionally running his thumb over your knuckles, there wasn’t anywhere else you wanted to be.

It wasn’t planned, nor was the leading up to it ideal, but it was pretty damn perfect.

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princessjungeun · 4 years ago

Text

Sunshine on A Cloudy Day: Sana x Reader

tw// chronic illness, hospitals, needles, mention of cancer

it’s a high school au btw

this is based on my personal experience. pls be respectful as it wasn’t easy for me to write this :)

Your alarm played through your room, waking you up immediately. You pressed snooze at least seven times before actually getting up and dressing yourself for the long day that was to come.

You pulled on your favorite t shirt and pajama pants before tugging on a sweatshirt. You checked the time before packing your bag, making sure to add your laptop and phone along with their chargers, snacks, socks, favorite stuffed animal, and a few extra school assignments.

By the time you made it downstairs your mom was already waiting for you. Quickly she handed you an apple and muffin to eat on the car ride.

“Okay sweetie I have a meeting this morning from 8 until 11. I’ll bring you lunch, just text or call and tell me what you want.” Your mother spoke not taking her eyes off the road as she drove.

Your mom pulled out her wallet and handed you two familiar cards, telling you to tuck them away until someone inside asked for them.

“Alright sweet girl I’ll be back soon, if they have any issues call me and I can sort it out.” Your mom kissed your forehead before letting you out the car, watching you walk inside before driving away.

Your feet felt heavy as the familiar smell of saline and disinfectant filled your nose. You grabbed a disposable mask off the lobby desk and put it on.

As you started to walk towards the elevator a woman called after you “maam!”

You turned around and pulled down the mask “don’t worry I’m still a minor. I’m going to the 4th floor.”

The woman nodded and gave you a thumbs up with a smile before turning back to check in adults.

It was still early so not many people were in the hallways, except the emergency wing. It is always packed no matter what.

You made your way to the fourth floor hoping if you wakes slower you just wouldn’t have to go. But that wasn’t how it worked and you knew it.

When you entered the waiting room you found a seat by the window. The dull grey sky offered no source of light, leaving you to rely on the fluorescent ceiling panels for brightness.

“Miss Y/LN?” The woman at the desk called your name, waving you over.

“Good morning sweetie haven’t seen you for a few weeks now.” She smiled as she spoke her tone was calming but also happy.

She asked “you got the insurance card for me?” You nodded and handed her one of the cards waiting for her to tell you how much you owed for today’s visit.

“And you have a $30 copay today, would you like to take care of that now?” You nodded and handed her the second card your mom gave you earlier. She finished checking you in “alright they’ll call you back in a bit.”

You sat down and pulled out your phone knowing that your girlfriend was actually awake now.

Y/N: hey

Sana 💞: good morning jagi

Sana 💞: you have an appointment today right?

Y/N 💘: yeah...kinda just wanna go back home

Sana 💞: it’s okay i’ll come over after school and make it better

Y/N 💘: you don’t have to i’ll be fine, this isn’t new

Sana💞: no girlfriend obligations

Sana 💞: i’m coming and you can’t stop me

Y/N 💘: okay fine

Y/N 💘: i’ll text you later, they’re calling me back now

•

It didn’t take long for your nurse to call you back and get you situated in a treatment room. There was only one other patient along with you. It was a little girl no more than 3 years old. You didn’t know exactly what she was getting but your heart broke at the thought considering what department you were in, Cancer and Blood Disorders.

It took 3 hours for your IV bag to get delivered to your floor so you turned on the tv hoping something good was on. You settled on Moana, the only thing that wasn’t the news.

“Alright love we just got your bag, you know the drill, vitals every ten minutes for the first 30 then i’ll come every hour. We should have you out in 5 hours if everything goes well okay?” Your favorite nurse Haseul explained to you quickly what was going to happen.

You found yourself in this same spot with her every couple weeks so she knew how you liked things to go.

“So how’ve you been missy? How’s Sana?” She poked your side getting you to smile for the first time today.

You told her “she’s really good...I haven’t seen her in three weeks though. She got sick for two and she had finals this week, but today is her last one.”

Haseul checked “so you didn’t see her when she was sick right? You know you can’t be around that with your anemia.”

You nodded softly remembering why you were even in the hospital in the first place. What was once a slight iron deficiency quickly turned into a chronic anemia that couldn’t be healed with oral supplements. Doctors had no other option than to put you on infusion treatments which sucked.

Although people were definitely going through worse, especially in this department, that didn’t take away from what you dealt with. The constant fatigue, dizziness, falling asleep in class, hair loss, being malnourished, all of it a constant reminder that you weren’t like most.

“Y/N!” Haseul snapped her fingers in front of your face.

You blinked rapidly “sorry what?”

Haseul responded “it’s okay I just needed to make sure you didn’t pass out on me. I need to put on your heart monitor.” She placed the stickers on your chest before grabbing the IV kit she placed on your lap earlier.

“Alright in your hand or arm today?” Haseul knows you prefer the arm but she always asks in case you change your mind.

You simply pointed to your arm before extending it so she could access your vein. Finding your vein was no problem, as you still had a raised bump from the last time you got treatment.

“Okay...and one two- there you go.” Haseul secured the IV with a Tergaderm, which was weirdly enough your favorite part of this whole process.

She left you and cane back every ten minutes to check your vitals before disappearing to help another patient for a bit.

You ended up spending the first two hours dozing in and out of sleep, waiting for your mother to call you. Eventually you did in fact wake up, and to the smell of your favorite food.

Your mother sat in a chair next to you on her phone talking to who you assume is a coworker. Quickly she hung up the phone so she could talk to you instead.

“Hey hows it going so far?” She asked with slight concern.

You told her “ fine just sleeping to pass time that’s all.”

She smiled before handing you a bag of food hoping it’d bring some form of joy to your day.

•

You both ended up enjoying an early lunch together but unfortunately she had to leave the hospital for an emergency meeting. It wasn’t unusual for this to happen so you were used to it, she’d simply be back at the end of your appointment.

Your phone buzzed next to you, pulling your attention away from your mother’s absence.

Sana💞: how are you doing so far?

Y/N💘: it’s good. I’m watching Aladdin now :)

Sana💞: i wanna be there with you rn instead of in math class

Y/N💘: your day is almost over then you can see me

Y/N💘: think of it that way

Sana💞: yeah but i still wish i was with you

Y/N💘: soon

Sana💞: ok fine. i have to go i love you

Y/N💘: i love you too babe

Around the third hour you became irritable and ended up walking the hallways with Haseul. She was honestly the only thing that made you feel normal in this place.

When the two of you got back you were tired and worn out from the walk. It didn’t seem like a long distance to most but you definitely were feeling it.

You found your spot back in the treatment room, sitting in your chair and reclining it back. Just as you were going to close your eyes Haseul called your name.

“Y/N. You’ve got a visitor would you like her to come back?” Haseul didn’t bother to open the curtain to tell you who it was so being the curious girl you were, you allowed it.

Sana walked in with a smile on her face, it was like your sunshine on a cloudy day. It was clear she had just finished school as she was still in her uniform, and she was wearing her backpack.

“Ho- Sana? Why? How did you even get in here?” You asked her through a laugh.

Sana responded “nobody stopped me downstairs and I know you’re on this floor. The lady at the desk outside was very nice too!”

You immediately sat up, not realizing that was a bad idea given your position. Closing your eyes tight you tapped your finger on the arm rest of your chair, waiting for the dizziness to stop.

When you opened your eyes you saw Sana in front of you, a frown on her face. It broke her heart to see you, her girlfriend, in this state. You always tried to make it seem like you weren’t sick but it was very obvious that you still were no matter how much you pretended otherwise.

She placed a blanket over you before running her thumb along your face and softly saying “my baby girl...”

You smiled at her knowing it might possibly make her less sad but it didn’t do much.

She could tell you were tired so she told you “it’s fine just sleep.”

By the time you woke up it was time for you to leave. Haseul had flushed your IV and took your vitals for the last time while you were asleep.

Your mother was downstairs in the parking garage waiting for you and Sana so you could go home.

It was clear by the look on your face that you felt nauseous, a common side effect of your treatment, from the second you stood up.

Sana gathered your things and help you put on your sweatshirt and bag before you two headed downstairs.

You interlocked you’re hand with hers as you felt dizzier with every step you took. She could tell you were having a hard time but she knows how much you try to hide it. When you both made it to the car you fell asleep almost instantly.

Sana helped you to your room, quickly helping you to bed before stealing some of your clothes to wear for herself.

You sleepily held out your arms for her, a soft whimper leaving your lips. She crawled under the covers and you immediately clung to her. You were shivering as if you were standing in snow with only a bathing suit on. Your hands and fingers started turning blue, indicating you body temperature was dropping, a side effect of treatments.

Sana pulled you closer and kissed the top of your head as your fingers curled around her shirt, holding her close.

It only took ten seconds before you started sobbing into her chest. As much as you wanted to pretend you were fine and not in pain, you couldn’t hide it anymore. Breaking down in her arms you sobbed until you fell asleep. She felt terrible knowing there was nothing she could do to fix it, but she knew that you appreciated her being there for you.

You only slept for an hour before you woke up in a cold sweat. Your t shirt clung to your back as you kicked off your blankets seeking some sort of way to cool yourself down. That did little to nothing so you scrambled to the bathroom hoping cold water would do the trick.

Sana knew this was yet another side effect of your treatment, a high fever. Your cheeks burned red as you splashed your face with water in the sink. Much to your relief it worked and you were finally able to get back in bed with her.

Your girlfriend held you in her arms tight as if she never wanted to let go.

“Thank you...” You softly spoke as she drew small circles along the small of your back.

“For what?” She asked curiously.

You mumbled “everything...just everything you do for me.”

She giggled softly “you know i’d do anything for you baby.”

Mumbling softly you told her “i love you.”

She responded quickly “i love you too.”

Letting your eyes close you further melted into her embrace as she tightened her arms around you. In the back of your mind you were reminded why you always said i love you before you fell asleep. Besides the fact that you did in fact love her, but if you happened not to wake up tomorrow, the last thing she heard from you was those three words.

Nevertheless you hoped and prayed you’d wake up in the morning to see her smiling face.

#kpop imagines #kpop scenarios #kpop fluff #twice fluff #twice scenarios #twice imagine #minatozaki sana #twice sana

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mlqcconfessions · 5 years ago

Note

Can I request a some hurt/comfort? How would our guys react to MC being in a coma and waking up from it? Take care of yourself!

We are always reminded of MC’s unnecessary courage, especially towards the later chapters. Every time she gets into trouble, the boys are there to save her.

But from Chapter 10+, we see that they won’t come to our rescue every time.

And that made me really sad (I JUST WANT HAPPY ENDINGS Y'ALL)

So I’m using this opportunity to write alternate endings for some of the darkest stories for each of the boys (and I had to use my imagination for these, so they may be a little lacking)

This took me a LOT LONGER than I expected, so that’s why my headcanons weren’t updating lately

Warning: There are spoilers for the main story (Ch 11-15)

MLQC Headcanon - As long as you’re here

Victor (Spoilers for Ch 11)

He’s been through this once already as kids

He’s never been prepared for another one

He always thought...since he’s here with you now.....he would be able to protect you

He believed he had changed

That he was no longer the weak boy from years ago

This is why he’s taking it so hard on himself

You were the only thing on his mind (even work was irrelevant)

He’s looking at you sleeping so soundly in the hospital bed

It’s as if you would wake at any moment

But he knows.....it’s not good to raise hopes

How long has it been.....8 days?

He glances around the hospital room (a daily routine he does)

Just to make sure everything is in pristine condition

But he doesn’t realize that he himself was in shambles

He prepared the best amenities for your hospitalization

The nurses kept talking about him, the CEO of LFG

Some attempted to get noticed by him (which did succeed to a certain extent)

They paid more attention to him than to you

“Are you going to keep doing your job halfheartedly?”

“P....pardon?”

“I have no need for unprofessional workers who can’t focus in front of their patients. Please leave” (The hospital’s Chief had to bow his head in apology)

Of course, Victor didn’t care about such trivial matters

All he was concerned about was your health

He had been watching over you nearly 24/7

He regularly calls Goldman to bring over his work to the hospital (he says he can’t go himself because then he’ll have to leave you)

For once, Goldman doesn’t care that he’s not paid enough

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

You wake up to blinding lights, forcing your eyes to stay closed

After getting adjusted, you look around

Am I....in a hospital? (your eyes fall on the IV drip above you)

You turn your head (a short pain rings in your back), finding Victor laying his head on the bed

His hands are tightly grasping yours, knuckles shaky and pale

You raise your other hand to smooth his hair (it’s a little oily?)

He slowly opens his eyes, realizes the hand on his head, and quickly shoots up

His mouth is open, but he’s not saying anything

You laugh a little at this new Victor (you wish you could’ve taken a picture)

“Haha...good morning, Victor”

It’s only until you show him your usual smile that he regains himself

“......dummy....”

He bends down to pick up some papers that had toppled over

You don’t notice that he wipes a tear that was falling on his face

Kiro (Spoilers for Ch 14)

He didn’t want to have to do this

But it was the only way to save you (to keep you safe)

He hadn’t planned on using absolute control on you

After all, he knew you wouldn’t want to leave him by himself on that rooftop

But he had no choice

He would much rather sacrifice himself if it meant protecting you

And there was no telling what he would do if you got hurt

He dare not meet your eyes when he made you walk by him

There would’ve been a resisting force, making him want to hug you right away

It took him everything he had to not cancel his evol at that moment

As soon as he heard the door lock with a click, he turned to focus on his enemy

There wasn’t much to the fight anyways (his evol was overpowering)

But he couldn’t help but worry about you on the other side of that door

He figured you would be crying your eyes out, but there was nothing he could do

You, on the other hand, were trying your hardest to break Kiro’s control

But to no avail

All you could do was pound on the door, until your hands started to bleed

This went on for who knows how long

At this point, you were slumped over on the ground (your poundings have gotten much weaker)

You balled up your hands into fists, your last attempts to stay focused

Your nails dig into your palms, but it doesn’t faze you one bit (although it does quite hurt)

Was it fatigue, or was it exasperation.....but you started to lose your sight until everything was pitch black

Meanwhile, the noises outside come to a halt

Kiro hobbles over to the door (he wasn’t injured, just overwhelmed with fatigue)

He’s surprised to find you lying on the floor, unconscious

As much as he wants to take you to your home, he knows he doesn’t have the right to do that (not after what he just did to you)

But....it’s even more dangerous to leave you here

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

He treats your hands with the first aid kit in your apartment

You slowly wake up to see Kiro struggling with the bandages (he was never great at things like these)

With your other hand, you reach up to cup his face

He’s startled (he wasn’t expecting you to wake up this quickly)

“Kiro.....”

He doesn’t say anything, but just looks at you with a pained expression on his face

He gets up to leave, but you grab onto his shirt

“No...please.....don’t leave....”

He turns around, bites his lower lip, and gently tugs your hand off from him

“......I’m sorry....I command you....”

“Kiro.......!”

“.....go to sleep”

You don’t remember anything after this point, not even the fact that he tucked you in

Or the fact that he stayed a little longer by your side (to burn you into his memories before leaving)

“.....sweet dreams, MC”

Lucien (Spoilers for Ch 13)

He knew you were brave

But he also knew you were careless

You hadn’t realized how deep your punctured wound went, and quickly lost consciousness

He wanted to rush towards you, to catch you in his arms

He wanted to apologize that he’s made you go this far

But he just stood there, looking at your fragile figure with indifference

He slowly walked over, and got on one knee to inspect your condition

He had to pry Iridescent out of your hands (for fear that you would try to stab yourself again)

All the while, he remained calm

As if what he just saw affected him no less than a falling leaf

But of course, the truth was much different

If he showed the slightest bit of emotion, the men would take you away from him

He was already being suspected of a traitor by them (it’s more advantageous to be seen as your enemy......for your sake)

“She’s fainted (he pushes some hair out of your eyes). I’ll take care of things from here”

“Ares, you can’t—!”

“We need her alive, wouldn’t we?” (the other agents can feel the hostility in his voice)

After he receives silent confirmation, he picks you up in his arms and takes you to his apartment

He rests you on the bed, and prepares everything to treat you

He effectively manages to stop the bleeding, but he’s unable to close the wound

It’s going to scar.....

As he looks at you, his heart becomes foggy

He has so many things to say.....so many things to explain

If only you realized his true feelings

But he knew it would only bring you harm if you got close to him

After all, HE was the one deceiving you this entire time

And that’s all you needed to believe

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

When you open your eyes, you realize you’re back in your house (it’s dark except for some light from outside)

As you try to stand up, you flinch as your neck stings in pain

It’s bandaged.......Lucien!

You quickly look around the room, grabbing on to the slightest hope that he would be here

Your shoulders slink back as you laugh to yourself (at your own foolishness)

He lied to me.......he......

You cover your face with the pillow, trying to take everything in

You reach out to the bedside table for your phone, dropping something in the process

As you go to pick it up, your heart feels like it’s about to explode

Iridescent is lying on the floor, the tip no longer covered with your blood

As if it’s unaware of your muffled cries, it shines brightly in the moonlight peering through your windows

Gavin (Spoilers for Ch 15)

The wind had been blowing for hours on end, keeping his tears from falling down his face

There wasn’t much he could’ve done to prevent this

To prevent you from taking a bullet to your shoulder

No, he thought

I was right there next to her.....

There were so many things he could have done

That he SHOULD HAVE done

He looks down at you, writhing in pain, clutching at your shoulder

He knows how bullet wounds feel like (all the more reason why he’s so hard on himself)

Luckily, the two of you managed to escape STF during that chase

That doesn’t mean he was unscathed, as well

When heard you scream, he lost control of his evol

It did throw the STF agents off-course (but it also pushed you along the edge of a cliff)

He quickly grabs hold of you, twisting his body so he breaks the fall

The currents help soften the landing, but the rocks and branches leave scars on his body (he’s just relieved that you’re alive)

He brought you inside an abandoned warehouse, a beat-up Sparky guarding the front door

Lots of thoughts run through his brain while he’s treating your wound (now he knows who his true enemies are)

He skillfully manages to reduce the bleeding (but it doesn’t stop completely)

Meanwhile, your breathing becomes heavy and your heartbeat spikes up

He quickly takes off his shirt to dab the sweat off of your forehead (it’s not the cleanest, but it’s better than nothing)

He looks around for a water source

No luck (but he does find some wood for the fireplace)

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

He quickly returns to the warehouse, nervous about leaving you alone

“..Gavin....”

The firewood in his hands clatter as they fall to the ground (without a moment’s hesitation, he’s by your side)

“MC....?” (the tears he had been holding back are now falling, each drop hitting your hand that he’s desperately clutching)

You find it hard to speak, only capable of muttering sounds

There’s so many things you want to say...that you NEED to say

But the sounds of agonized crying fills your ears (you’ve never heard him cry before, let alone this loud)

Little did you know that these tears were not of pain, but of relief

He’s holding onto you so tight, as if he’s trying to make sure you don’t leave him

The sun slowly rises once again, a gentle breeze blowing over the fallen leaves in the silent environment

Welp this was more hurt than comfort

This is not what I had initially planned.

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weeklyfangirl · 5 years ago

Text

Frat Boy Pt. 23

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7 (1), part 7 (2), part 8, part 9, part 10, part 11, part 12, part 13 , part 14, part 15, part 16, part 17, part 18, part 19 , part 20, part 21, part 22

Here’s the chappie where you get a look beyond the Mediterranean fortress Harry calls home... ;)

Timing is sometimes too perfect to be the pure product of coincidence.

Everything is connected: the earth and the seas, the moon, and all the sky’s stars.

Our bodies are made of these, fragments of their nature, tying us to this world.

Aunt Lara used to tell me that we are a part of the cosmos, the cosmos pushing and pulling people into paths they’re supposed to be on. She’d smoke her cigarette on our porch with the full moon hanging high in the sky that she’d soon be flying through, and I’d nod, thinking I was so cool just for being around her. It was our time then, just the two of us, sometime after my parents had gone asleep and I’d sneak past their room to meet her outside. She never told my parents I was staying up late on a school night. She’d take another drag, extending one to me, knowing I wouldn’t take it.

“I’ve seen seven year olds with these things,” she’d mutter, laughing to herself, and when she’d look out, I imagined she was envisioning the Roman Cafe she’d frequent beside the famed Colosseum. A hot sun, and balmy breeze, warm like the foreign friends she’d meet, or the lukewarm seas lapping around her ankles. “So much warmer and clearer than anything you’ve ever felt here. The most miraculous shades of blue...” She’d smoke, she’d smile. I’d admire.

It was a full moon that night.

Just like it was tonight.

There are some things that happen so precisely, I think there must not be any other way these things could have happened, no other explanation, other than Aunt Lisa’s: the universe and its timing are inextricably linked to create our destiny.

Our choices change our future, sure. But there’s something beyond that, in the fickle way our choices play out ironically, that makes me think some things are fated. God, the cosmos, whatever you believed in - they had bigger plans for everyone.

They certainly had bigger plans for me other than a depressing Netflix binge in my dorm room after the game.

Yellow fluorescents flickered in the dismal parking garage. Lionel Styles was waiting by the elevators with Sven, looking oddly casual in normal streetwear. They grabbed Harry from me as soon as I’d parked, carrying him in. I followed, for a brief second questioning whether or not my services were needed. Maybe this was only family now.

But Lionel hastily beckoned me towards him. “You wanted a hands on experience right?”

His words seemed crass in a moment like this, but I brushed it off as stress as I went with them in the elevator. Lionel punched in a code and it creaked to life, slower than normal. A table had already been cleared in one of the surgery rooms, a white plastic sheet like that of a serial killer lain across. Gauze, ice water, rags, forceps, and needles were atop a metal tray. It was everything I expected of a surgical room - stark, sterile, and cold without any frivolous decor. No paintings. I assumed there was never anyone awake enough in this room to enjoy them anyway. Sven lay a white medical pillow down, too thin to be comfortable, as Lionel lowered Harry. I cringed, feeling another wave of nausea wrack through me. His gauze, once pink, was now completely red and looked wet to the touch.

“He’s been bleeding this whole time,” I breathed. Albeit obvious, it was less to inform Lionel than it was to come to terms with it myself.

Lionel flicked one of the syringes, nodding solemnly. “He might need a blood transfusion.”

Blood transfusion. IV poles were behind the table, blood blags and clear IV fluid already ready. He was expecting this.

“Shouldn’t he be at a hospital?”

“Nothing we can’t do. He’s just a boy. Gets into scrapes every now and then.”

“This is more than a scrape.”

He ignored me, plunging the needle in, and less than a second later, Harry’s eyes fluttered.

“Adrenaline,” I whispered under my breath. I recognized the protocol.

Lionel looked at me, curiously. “You’ve done a good job. Did you stuff the wound?”

I shook my head. Harry was still lightly breathing thanks to the adrenaline. But he wasn’t anywhere near stabilized to warrant my work being commended.

“It’ll be enough until my friend gets here,” he said.

I looked at him, skeptically.

“The anesthesiologist,” he clarified.

And I blamed it on the shock for being so daft. Dr. Styles had been established in the medical field since he received his degree, it was no surprise if he had a “friend” for everything.

“Is Mary here?” I don’t know why I asked this question. I don’t know why I thought it was relevant. Perhaps because if my mom knew I was bleeding out on a table, she’d be right there. Right beside me. She would’ve been the one driving, bossing around all the doctors. 911 would have been called and she would’ve moved hell fire and water screaming like a banshee to get to me. “Does she know?” I questioned.

Lionel didn’t even look at me, carefully unwrapping the gauze. “She’s sleeping. I didn’t wake her.”

The separate lives of Mr. and Mrs. Styles spread further in my eyes, only their roof and rings joining them.

I unpacked new gauze, handing it to him. The butterfly bandaids hadn’t held, big shock, and blood trickled down in a steady current. How much blood could he have left? Lionel didn’t have time to be surprised, but the stoic doctor looked a shade whiter when he grabbed the gauze. The wound was exposed and he hesitated, simply applying pressure. His hands bloodied by the second.

For as renowned as he was, in facing his own son, he suddenly seemed paralyzed. I wanted to shake him.

Sven re-entered, slightly out of breath. I’d never noticed him leaving. “They’re here, sir. But they can’t get in-”

A spark was lit. Something familiar for him to grasp onto. “Elevator’s been jamming,” he cursed.

I helped apply pressure, and Dr. Styles looked at me, unsettled.

“I’ll stay here. You can let them in,” I nodded, even though there hadn’t been a question.

“It’s deep. So you have to physically stuff the wound with gauze. Have you ever dealt with a stab wound?”

My eyes narrowed. He already knew what kind of injury it was.

Then, mustering all the poise and retort of the First Lady, “With all due respect sir, I can do this.”

“I’ve seen grown men faint at the sight of needles let alone handling an open wound.”

“Thank God I’m a woman then.” I don’t know what possessed me, but my steely gaze must’ve been convincing. Lionel ran through the door, not even bothering to shut it.

Perhaps it was all the hours of being kept to dull paperwork and the maddening helplessness I’d felt for too long now.

But I couldn’t sit around anymore.

I needed to do something.

Sven watched me as I put on gloves and bunched up the gauze, holding my breath as I pushed it past the skin’s opening, ignoring his little gasps telling me this was hurting him, and ignoring the hot sensation around my hands. Tissue. That hot sensation was his tissue. I was inside Harry. I was touching… suddenly the anatomy I’d memorized in textbooks was a little too detailed. These gloves were too thin. I kept going and Sven jumped in to help elevate Harry so I could wrap the gauze around his entire abdomen, stuffing his wound until it was full.

We didn’t speak.

I sat on the only steel stool in silence. I may not want to sit around, but right now the floor could move beneath me at any moment. Sven was in the corner of the room, gaze locked to the clock. The minutes seemed to tick by slower than anything I’d ever felt. I could feel time, just like in the elevator. And maybe it was because his time was running out. He could die. Harry could very well die. If I’d chosen to go with Renny, if I’d stayed a moment longer, if I’d left a moment sooner, I would’ve passed the locker room without hearing him, without seeing him at all. What would the alternative have been? An image of Harry bleeding out, cold on the floor made me nauseous.

And still the clock ticked.

I could have screamed by the time they burst through the doors in a flury. Two men I’d never seen before entered in slacks and untucked button-downs. This hadn’t been an expected call. This wasn’t official. They ignored Sven and I, instantly getting to work, which was fine by me as long as I could stay. They inserted needles and attached wires and masks until I wasn’t sure I could untangle him if I tried. The smallest mewling noises came from him, but he didn’t stir. I don’t think he had it in him to move anymore. Only able to give one desperate lolled roll of his head.

One of the men, the anesthesiologist, fiddled with a machine. The whoosh of releasing gas sounded when Harry took his first breaths. A slow, but steady, heart rate appeared on the monitor.

Lionel looked at it briefly.

The Doctor and his helpers worked for what seemed like hours. Maybe it was. For how long time felt and despite how intently I’d been staring at the clock, I couldn’t recall when we’d arrived. I cringed as they undid my handiwork, only to excavate deeper into the wound. I know this might be my future when I pursued medical school, but on more than one occasion I had to look away.

Sven had left the room entirely, standing guard just beyond the door. At least Sven escaped the smell of metal and flesh.

They stapled Harry together like meat, a butchered boy on the operating table, like Hasbro Operation except no one was laughing when the forceps dug in, and nobody won.

Every time I cringed, I reminded myself: Harry was asleep. He couldn’t feel any of this.

He looked like a corpse under the unforgiving white light, but the heartbeat reminded me he was alive.

When Lionel Styles finally turned away, tossing his gloves in the bin, he looked whiter than the sheet beneath Harry.

It was the longest night I’d ever had.

But for him, to excavate into his son the way he just had, I imagined it was longer.

------

“I didn’t have to come,” Matt said, for the first time irritance lacing his voice. Golden Boy stood at my doorway, recoiled, after I’d practically growled upon seeing him.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “It was a long night.”

And annoying after the e-mail notification I’d received about the DG Pretty Please. Time was running out, and it was the last thing I’d had on my mind recently.

“Why was it so long?”

I twirled my hair around itself in a messy bun, letting it hold itself up. I just shrugged while Matt’s concern mounted.

Lionel had asked me not to speak of it. “We’ll let you know when you can see him,” he’d said. As far as anyone else was concerned, I hadn’t been there that night. There was a reason he didn’t want Harry going to a hospital. Less questioning, less spotlight, less of an impact on their image… it still unnerved me. Such a horrific injury, and yet… it was almost expected, brushed under the rug. Had Harry really been this much of a troublemaker growing up that a stab wound was equivalent to a scrape for Dr. Styles?

Matt set the steaming Del Taco bag on the floor. “Y/N, seriously, what’s up? You couldn’t even stay the weekend on campus? She told me you’ve been gone for weeks.” He sat down at the foot of my bed when he was sure I wasn’t going to turn into a snarling monster. Which, to be fair, must have been a hard conclusion to come to. “And it’s true, I haven’t seen you around at all. You just… disappeared.”

“Okay, it was ONE week,” I clarified. “And we don’t see much of each other anymore anyways so don’t act like you’re so butt hurt that I decided to come home again.”

I wanted to take the words back as soon as I said them. They were the ones we hadn’t said. The ones we knew were true. But a mood had crept through me last night turning me sour against the world. And now each word I spoke was infected with its poison.

His brows scrunched, eyes flashing with indignation, not sure how to handle me, of all people, lashing out abuse.

“Yeah, because you quit your PT job.”

“I got a new one!”

“And that’s fine! Why are you so… defensive right now??” he laughed briefly at the absurdity. “I just don’t know why you’re trying to blame this on me. Where is this coming from?”

I remained silent. I didn’t know why I was blaming him so harshly for our friendship reaching a downward slope. I knew we had different circles of friends, and as gross of a cliche as it was, he was with the athletes and I was with… Renny. Though now I was starting to hang out with Lynn more, too. A part of me envied him for having such an instant community with his team. Isn’t that why people joined sororities? For community? I’d seriously flunked that one, though a little voice told me I just wasn’t trying hard enough.

He looked to my collaged wall, expecting to see our photo strip. But it wasn’t there. He stood up, finding it atop my mom’s arts and crafts bin.

“Haven’t been here in a while,” he said, softly.

I watched him, stood in my room like all those high school nights of old, seeming taller than before. Like in the months we’d lost touch he’d somehow gotten too big for this room, like he’d somehow outgrown me.

“It fell down,” I lied, because Harry had taken it off.

They say your high school friends won’t stay with you forever, that as you grow older, the number of friends you stay in touch with start dwindling until it’s down to one or two. I stopped speaking to most of mine after the first year of community college. People move on. People change. I changed too, even though I stayed behind. But there was always Matt. Of all people, I didn’t think it would be him and I standing apart and feeling farther, still. When these relationships change, the transition feels gradual. It’s like, in some unspoken unseen moment, your lives sync up, and you’re both busy at the same intervals. And then you make plans to see each other, but both of you don’t reach out the day you’re supposed to meet up. Neither of you follow through. Because it’s easier. It’s natural. An unspoken agreement.

“We’ve both been busy,” I said.

“The last time I saw you, you had a massive mark on your neck.”

“You can say hickey, Matt.”

His eyes fluttered, and he looked away. If I wasn’t devoid of emotion then, I’d think it funny how he got flustered just thinking or talking about anything sexual with me.

“You’re pretty close with Harry then?” he asked, ears slightly reddened.

“What makes you say that?”

“An educated guess.” A charming smile lit his face, almost shy, the hostility in the air dulling for a moment. “I’ve seen you with him before, and you were wearing his jersey at the game… I didn’t really believe it though.”

“What do you mean?”

“C’mon. Harry Styles.”

“And?”

He raised his hands as if the answer was so obvious it was floating in the air. They dropped. “He’s not really your scene, is he? I don’t mean that in a bad way, he’s not really my scene either.”

“So?”

“So, nothing. I was just trying to find something to talk about.” He was getting more irritated now, his thumb digging in between his fingers. “Really, I don’t even care to talk about him, let’s talk about you. Please. Have you drawn anything recently? Why’ve you been feeling off?”

I snorted. “Please, I haven’t drawn anything since high school. There’s nothing new.”

He crossed his arms, testing me. “I don’t buy it.”

He was smart not to.

“You know… It took a lot for my dad to ask me to stay behind instead of going off to Princeton,” he said. Every molecule seemed to still around him. “He can barely speak now. The guy who wouldn’t ask you to fetch the boogie board even if you were the one who’d let the waves take it in the first place...” his voice trailed off, a silent sadness swirling in blue eyes.

I remembered Patrick Price taking us to the beach and pushing us beneath the big waves, teaching us how to balance on those harmless foam boards we’d pick up at Rite-Aid. Just three years ago at high school graduation, Patrick was running across the grass playing football with Matt and Dad at the BBQ while Mom and Summer dished out the pasta salad and watermelon. He was diagnosed two years ago, and now instead of serving pasta salad, Summer serves him, watching him closely on his wheelchair. ALS was a nasty disease and it acted fast.

“I can’t help you if you don’t want to be helped,” he finished.

I wanted to say that I was sorry. I wanted to say that it wasn’t him, that it was me. But something else had already consumed me, not letting in the light, finding the darkest parts of me and unfurling them until some spilled past my lips. “You didn’t have to drive all the way down here just to see me.”

“I didn’t,” he said, and even though he hid his hurt well, I could still see it. He stood from the bed, making up his mind that there wasn’t any use being with someone who pushed away anything that ventured near. “I’m helping my dad move offices. The rent is too high now for landscapers.”

“They’re leaving? But you guys have been in the same spot for years.”

Matt gave a shrug, taking his turn at the silent treatment.

“I didn’t know,” I said, lamely.

The chasm between us grew bigger, and I shrunk even smaller, letting the silence and guilt consume me.

“But you wouldn’t want to talk to me about that either, right?”

I swallowed, hard. I deserved that.

And I was too ashamed to stop him from leaving.

Less than an hour later, I was cursing him again. The smell of Del Taco drove my mother away from the living room. Messy wrappers lay scattered around me when the door opened. I may have been too ashamed and prideful to apologize to Matt, but my growling stomach was stronger than both.

She saw me in the same position Matt had left me, and I avoided her gaze, checked my phone. No updates.

The room seemed cold.

“You look like you’re having the same day I’m having.” She came in with a basket of clean clothes, setting it on the floor.

“Mom, I told you I’d do that.”

“No, you needed rest.” There was a flash of pity, but it was lying beneath a thick shell of annoyance. She huffed, sitting on my bed, just like Matt hours before.

She snuggled closer. I faced her on my side, hands pressed against my cheek. She mirrored me.

I waited for her to say something, but in the silence her eyes grew wide, shaking her head. The mysterious reason for her mood like a gorged balloon floating towards a fan.

“What?” I asked.

“I think your Dad has feelings for somebody else.”

My brows scrunched. “What?”

“I don’t have any proof. But we were on a date night last night and…” -she let out a cruel laugh that made me want to hold her- “He was texting her.”

“Who?”

“A waitress.”

“A waitress?”

“Nicole the waitress.”

“How do you know it was her?”

“He denied it. But I looked at his phone when he went to the bathroom. She’s been a little… friendly with Dad.”

“Nicole?? Mom, she’s like nearly forty.” A brief memory of a friendly blonde working in the restaurant trickled up and left a sour taste on my tongue.

“Still fifteen years younger than me.”

My nose shriveled up, the thought of Father being romantic with my own mom made me cringe, but the thought of Father being romantic with somebody else? It didn’t seem… conceivable. My parents weren’t like the Styless. They kept us together. They loved each other.

“Have I met her? I’ll punch her next time I see her,” I said, the words still not connecting with my brain. With the facts laid out before me.

Mom snorted. “Not before I do.” She plucked at a hangnail, a habit I’d gotten from her, and I could practically see the insecurities already rolling around in her mind.

“You’re gorgeous, Mom.”

She gave me a look. “I’ve been stress-eating chocolates. I need to watch myself.”

“Mom.” I frowned, seeing worry behind her humor. “He needs to watch himself.”

She sighed, turning to the ceiling. “I don’t know. I just have this… feeling.”

“Women’s intuition?”

“Yeah,” she breathed, and I knew if Mother was telling me this from her vault of secrets, it must have been significant. She wasn’t one to listen to Lara’s spirituality, but intuition was something she would never refute. Momma turned back, rattling her thoughts together. “Anyway. I’ll just be... shocked. If it’s true. I mean...a waitress? Really?” Silence suspended. The afternoon sun warmed the room a little more than usual, exposing the paled filmy stars on my ceiling to be illuminescent frauds. “Or maybe I’m not,” she said, quieter. Before I could bat my eyes, she changed the subject. “Why’d you come back last night?”

But I could still see the steam rolling off her shoulders. “Do you want to talk about it more?” I offered. The Del Taco turned queasy in my stomach, and as much as I loved her, I really hoped she said no.

She shook her head. “No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have mentioned anything.” She squeezed my hand, letting me know she meant her apology. She did a once-over at my stale big t-shirt. “Did something happen to make you want to come home?” Her fingers ran along the tops of my knuckles. “Or do you just love me.” Her smile was less than half-hearted.

“I was going to be alone at the dorm again. Renny was going to a party and I didn’t want to go with her…”

“I hate how she leaves you alone. Maybe we should get you a puppy for company?”

I gave her a look and she caved. “No, you’re right. Probably wouldn’t fit in there. You couldn’t take care of a puppy now anyways. Too needy. So, did he like the house?”

Her mind seemed scattered in a million directions. Mine struggled to keep up.

“Mom, seriously what are you talking about?”

“Oh, I didn’t know if he said anything about it afterwards or-”

“Mom, who?”

“Harry, honey.”

She was clueless of what her words did to me. My heart lurched just hearing his name, and the worry from last night washed over my exhausted frame like a crab on the shore, strong tides like a persistent weight, threatening to carry me away again.

“I’m sure he liked it,” I said.

“It’s an older home...he’s probably used to columns of marble.” Her embarrassed smile for even asking the question made my heart split further.

“Actually, he did say something! I remember now, he told me it was cute. Homey. He thinks the marble stuff is too cold anyways, he’s excited to come back,” I reassured her. The last bit was probably a stretch but it worked. Embarrassment fell away and her smile glowed.

Satisfied that she was happy, I turned to face my ceiling, closing my eyes. The problems with her and Father swum in the back of my mind, but I was too tired to take on anything else. She was an adult. She could make her own decisions. The information settled in a box in my brain, waiting for a moment when I could fully process it and I’d unlock it all again. I could feel the inklings of damage it would do to me if I truly unpacked it - anxiety, anger, confusion, fear, pity.

Family was a constant.

I couldn’t think about that changing, too. Not when I could barely keep my eyes open.

“You’re so sad, angel. What’s going on in your mind, hm?”

I shook my head, shifting to look at the ceiling. I didn’t need to feel guilty for not confiding in her. I needed to not feel anything.

Her presence was like a lighthouse, radiating heat, beckoning me to come back. All without her saying a word.

She looked as if she were going to say something else, but her hand fell back into her lap. “Okay,” she said.

She didn’t even try.

Maybe she knew the fog was too thick for me to see her light.

Then, through the fog, a vibration shook me to the core.

-----

“Y/N, I wasn’t expecting to see you so soon,” Sven stepped aside, the grand foyer to the Styles estate stretching out before me. Any other time, it would be enchanting, captivating. Now, it looked as treacherous as a hospital hall. I wasn’t sure what rendition of Harry was waiting for me on the other side of the staircase.

My feet carried me up a familiar path, my heart pounding at the unknown.

Irrationally, I had to remind myself that Harry was alive. I wasn’t going to find him, not like I’d found my Grandpa in his room.

Regardless…

“Are there people watching him? Is he alone?”

“He’s stabilized. There’s no need for nurses to keep watch.” Sven held dirty linens as he stayed in my shadow up the stairs.

I nodded, the assurances not really meaning anything, not until I could put an image in my mind as to what he looked like. Right now, all I could conjecture was a gray blur for a head sticking out above the sheets. How bruised would he be? How much stained blood would there be? I didn’t know what to fill in the gray with, so my mind envisioned the grim Harry I’d last seen, the Harry that, if it weren’t for the monitor, I wouldn’t have known still had a beating heart.

Each step carried me closer with a horrifying thought. My brain playing connect the dots as I walked.

Pale.

A clay boy.

A stitched up doll.

And everyone knew dolls didn’t breathe.

I didn’t realize I was alone until I turned around. Of course Sven wouldn’t have followed me, but for some reason I wanted him to be here.

Maybe it’s because he was with me when I’d seen Harry last.

“Y/N.” The familiar voice was weaker, but the grim tone was still so painfully bare. Of course he’d sensed me.

When I stepped out from behind the door, I didn’t find a dilapidated monster. Harry lay resting.

“Hey.” I snuck in, light as a swallow’s feather in the morning breeze, floating down beside him and resting my head atop crossed arms. The sight of him shook me. “Raggedy Harry,” I barely whispered, a horrible punch-to-the-gut feeling ballooning in my chest.

Half of his face swelled more than the other, his bottom lip completely bruised and jutted out, with a fairly deep gash that had started to scab. I fought the urge to trace over it.

“Looks worse than it is,” he said, watching my eyes carefully. Besides the pink-red swelling, his face appeared flushed. And despite his injuries, he was still miraculously beautiful.

I didn’t even blush from staring. Loose earthy curls had not been affected by time spent smooshed against the pillows. If anything, it’d pushed them forward, the floppier fringe defying gravity just there above his forehead. People could go to a stylist and ask for effortless mussy curls and not have it turn out as good as his - and this just with his genetics and days spent sleeping.

If I were him, I’d look like a grease monkey.

“Well, I can’t see the worst bits I’m sure.”

His chest was wrapped in gauze, this time not bloody to the touch. It was thick, white, and secure, and suddenly the tears that had yet to spill started pricking my eyes. I didn’t know just how badly I needed to hear the words before he said them.

“Y/N, I’m fine. I promise.”

The heaviest weight lifted from my shoulders, but my body slumped deeper into his mattress from an instantaneous realization. I’d needed Harry to be okay. I needed him here, even if I couldn’t explain why.

My hand reached out, brushing the tops of his hand.

“It would’ve been a dick move if you died,” I managed to breathe. I let out a sorry excuse for laughter, nervously sniffling.

His eyes seemed heavy, tired. The circles beneath them a cry for help from his beaten body.

“You can sleep if you want. I just wanted to check in on you.”

“I’m not sleeping when you’re here. S’all I’ve been doing,” he croaked. A flood of relief washed over me. Being apart from him was the last thing I wanted right now. The anxieties that’d been plaguing me the past 24 hours were muted to a dull simmer, drowned out by the highs of my body being close to his. Noticing his body...

A steady drip came from the IV hooked to his arm. Five pill bottles were on his nightstand, within arms reach. He noticed my staring.

“To stay hydrated.” Then, under his breath, “And numb.”

“I know,” I barked a laugh that instantly felt out of place. “I want to go into medicine, remember?”

His voice seemed lower when he rumbled, “S’right. You’re a smart girl.”

The tenderness in his voice sent an unexpected warmth straight to my chest. “You know that’s also a curse,” I noted. “I think too much.”

“I know,” he said, but he didn’t laugh like I had. It sounded like an apology. I almost jolted when his hand reached out to touch mine, not expecting him to be warm.

“You almost died,” I said, taking a breath. “I was there when you almost died.”

“I never wanted you to be there-” Before I could take offense, he weakly squeezed my hand. “I want to protect you, Y/N. I never wanted you this involved with me.”

“Well we’ve done a shit job at staying uninvolved. You can barely protect yourself. You can’t protect yourself.”

“That isn’t going to happen again.”

“The fact that it happened! Harry, I don’t think you understand how scared I was. How scared I am. I could be next, I don’t know what they want...”

A horrifying puzzle piece clicked into place. My nightmare of being stabbed could become a very real reality. It wasn’t until I saw Harry wincing that I realized his breath had quickened.

“I’m sorry,” I apologized. “Shit I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to stress you out. We don’t need to talk right now.”

The sting of I never wanted you this involved with me pulled me to the door, but his hand pulled me back.

“No. Fuck no.” But his grip softened again, his abdomen screaming at the effort to pull me back to him. When he spoke again his voice was a murmur, quiet-quiet, so gentle I could’ve imagined it. “Stay. Please. Seeing you here is the happiest I’ve been all week.”

My heart could’ve flown out of my chest, but for the buzzing electrical phenomena his words ignited in me, I was frozen by his sober admittance of want. It seemed all we ever did was dance around each other, literally. As if we were in an old 1700s ballroom, and everyone was dispersing into pairs. We spy each other from across the room and tiptoe around, refusing to seek other partners, yet refusing to commit to a dance.

“Is that sad?” His sincerity broke my reverie.

I leant closer, and his eyes fluttered shut in expectation… But my lips pressed soft kisses to closed lids. “I’ll stay,” I promised, nose to nose. Because my answer to his question would be yes. Something told me the mess of his body finally matched the inside of his heart.

Rather than tilt his head up to kiss me, he tried scooting over in the bed. It was painful to watch. I stopped him. There was plenty of room for me to lay beside him. So I did, scared to touch him.

“I’m not going to break,” he huffed. Tough and untouchable, I imagine being tip-toed around was the exact opposite of what he was used to.

“You didn’t see yourself that night.” Bloodied gauze and feeling his hot insides against my hands was enough to make my own blood curdle. It was enough to make me question if the Harry in front of me was simply a mirage. He was okay now, I reminded myself. But after I’d seen him bleeding out in the seat next to me, I wasn’t sure I believed him to be unbreakable anymore.

“You’re right, I’m… sorry,” he looked away, as if not being able to meet his reflection in my eyes. As much as I could hear regret, I knew he felt it even more.

My hand reached out, fingertips gently touching his raised cheek. “You were the one who felt it.”

He barely leant against my touch, gaze boldly probing my tired eyes, puffy from crying. The longer he stared the guiltier he became.

“Maybe we both did,” he said. The statement seemed to confuse him, brows stitching together. “No one’s ever been there for me like you. And-” he smiled as wide as he could with the swelling- “honestly it scares the living shit out of me. I know you didn’t have much of a choice to help-”

I surprised myself again, the definitive statement flying out of my mouth faster than I could comprehend. “I’d do it again.”

But the words seemed to hurt him more. His head lulled to the side, his prominent adam’s apple moving as he swallowed, deep in thought. “You’re too good for me,” he surmised. Before I could argue, he took my hand, pressing the back of it to bruised lips. He was acting so soft, so vulnerable. Was it the drugs? Was it an act? But if it was, how could eyes lie like that?

He hummed as if we were laying on the beach on the first hot day of summer, despite all the pain he must be in. The pros and cons list I’d written and stashed in my purse was sending out a throbbing heartbeat in my body, burning a hole where my purse lay at the end of the bed. No matter if the list were true, it couldn’t encapsulate the complicated person that he was. It wasn’t a fair portrait to paint. And putting me on a pedestal wasn’t either. “That’s not true,” I mumbled, far too late.

“It is,” he said. No room for argument.

“Did they give you some love drugs in this medicine bag of yours?”

His brows quirked at love, but he didn’t seem mocking when he said, “Maybe.” Emerald eyes were a mix of admiration, torment, and want as they drank me in, and I was sure if I let him stare into my soul a moment longer, he’d discover I wasn’t perfect at all.

I looked out towards his panoramic balcony window. Little flickers of light told of a city at the bottom of the hill, the dark ocean like a blanket for the rest of the world just out of reach. I wondered how long it’d been since the sun had set. Like any night with Harry, the rest of the world slipped away.

I stole a glance back at him, the beautifully broken boy resting his eyes. As if sensing me, he stirred, mumbling something incoherent.

“Too far,” he repeated, opening up his arms.

“I’m not laying on you Harry. Your stitches could burst.”

He growled. “I don’t care.”

And I didn’t doubt it. I came as close as I dared, thankful his shoulder wasn’t bruised as I lay my head in the crook of his neck, hands blindly combing through curls.

I could feel him relax into me, hear the boyish smirk across his face. “My mum used to do that,” he whispered. “Not this mum, my other…” his voice stuttered out. “My biological.”

It grew quiet in the room. An opening to the door of his past just barely letting in light.

“Do you miss her?”

“Can’t miss what you don’t remember,” he dismissed. And just like that, the door to his past was slammed shut. It was exactly what he said about the Styles’s first child Jane. But this time it sounded rehearsed, mechanical, a river of emotion carefully masked. But not to me.

My hands stilled, not sure if I should continue. But he leant into me again, and I continued my gentle work, as if undoing his tresses could untangle messy thoughts. “Thank you,” he sighed.

In some unspoken moment, he turned his head down, his tanned beaten face leant closer to mine. And with the intimate intensity only he possessed, he saw me. Like I was the only woman in the world. The oxygen seemed pulled from the room as time suspended. He leant lower until our foreheads brushed, his brows stitching together when I instinctually drew my leg across him, careful not to hitch it up too close to his wound. Our breathing deepened, the anticipation building as my hand drew across his face, my fingers settling behind his ear. He huffed, irritated at the tangling of the IV chord when he wrapped his arm around my side.

We stayed like this for a while, cradling the other. And just like I had done before, his pillow-soft lips ghosted over my cheek, then my nose, then my chin, until they hovered just over my lips. My eyes fluttered closed, the trail he left leading to one place…

“Y/N,” he breathed. I opened my eyes. There wasn't any reluctance in his eyes, but something similarly cautious yet fervent, an unspoken sentence pushing against closed lips.

But the sound of glass shattering woke us both up. His body turned hunter, still as stone as he listened for what came next. A hysterical cry drove Harry to stand, miraculously faster than I thought possible, and it wasn’t until he limped halfway towards the door that I realized he ripped out his IV. The banshee scream turned into a chilling wail, freezing me to my core.

My mind went to the worst case scenario. I’d have to jump from the window somehow. The gang must have found us. They must be in the house-

“It’s Mary,” he cursed, stopping my spiralling mind so quickly I was left dizzy. I don’t remember following him, but he stopped me at the door, hands locked around my shoulders.

“She has… fits, sometimes,” he explained.

“I don’t care.”

“Y/N, you don’t have to see this, too,” he said, and the amount of shame that shadowed his face was like a gouge through my heart.

I barely had time to say the words before another scream ripped through the empty house. “I’d do it again.”

With a somber nod, he rushed us out, practically sprinting to the living room where Mary Styles lay cradling her shell-shocked frame on the floor.

“You were gone. You left me,” she sobbed. Her hair was ripped from its usual loose curls and mascara ran down her face like the clear snot running from her nose.

“Oh my God,” a voice mumbled.

But I realized the voice was me.

The glass mirror at the bar had shattered. Shards of glass lay scattered all over the floor. Harry trudged through it, barefoot, bits of red mixing on the marble floors.

“No one was here, no one saw.” Her eyes were crazed as Harry bent over to pick her up and she pushed him away. “No! NO!!”

Fear spiked in my body. I’d never seen someone look so disconnected from the present reality. This was raw. Unpredictable.

But Harry seemed unphased.

“No one saw her, no one saved her,” she wailed. The weight of the words caused crippling sorrow. She stopped resisting, retreating into a shell of herself with choked cries, “Jane, Jane…” as Harry let out his own shout at the effort to lift her.

“Be careful, you’re hurt,” I called out, weakly. He didn’t bat an eye.

“Go through those doors, through the living wing, there’s a closet on your right. Grab the Valium and meet me in the guest room.” He avoided my gaze, looking instead to the direction I should be running to.

“Where in the closet?”

“Black box,” he ordered. Then, whispering to Mary, “It wasn’t your fault.”

But if she heard the words, they didn’t register, her face twisting, her own little trickle of blood running from the tips of her hands.

Her sobs barely quieted as they rounded the corner down the hall, abandoning me in the wreckage.

I was careful to step around the glass, heading to the massive hidden door in the wall I remembered Harry pointing out as the “living wing.” No one was around to confirm if memory served correct, but when I finally found the latch handle and tugged it open, tropical foliage surrounded me. It smelled humid, like stale water and… musky. Like when I had a hamster in fourth grade and forgot to change out its bedding. The light from the moon shone through their giant skylight, illuminating caged birds gently calling behind bars, enclosed in a sizey aviary. A small raised indoor pool made of rock looked like a concave fossil, with a shadow swimming amongst the mossy water. A miniature crocodile skirted to the furthest edge away from me and raised for air, two eyes looking skeptically in my direction. “Toto” was etched into the rock.

There were more enclosed habitats, and at the head of the room overlooking it all, a giant wooden desk. But no closet. No closet.

Frick.

I didn’t have time to ponder the eccentricity of the Styles’s owning a freaking zoo in their mansion. Nor did I have time to try and find a friggin light switch. Not at all.

I walked the length of the wing which seemed just as expansive as their living room. Ironic, I thought. Because this was literally a living room.

Then, beneath an arching tree canopy held in a planter box, two wicker handles protruded from the wall with a crack running between them.

Bingo.

They opened easily, revealing a deep closet full of filing cabinets and old paintings. My phone light illuminated the top, where two black boxes seemed to have gone untouched for years.

My foot tapped impatiently, not sure which one to grab. I hadn’t heard any cries of bloody murder, but someone (not me, someone more athetlic) could’ve run a mile in the time I’d been gone.

I reached for the one closest to me. It was velvet, I realized, surprised even this family’s storage containers would have some element of luxury. I prayed to find pills. But instead, a wax sealed envelope holding a thick stack of documents glared back at me. I was just about to secure the lid again when the inklings of a photograph peaked through between the papers. The deep-red seal, already opened, was their insignia, a cursive “S” that looked like it’d come from the 18th century.

Since the seal was already broken…

My hands carefully leafed through the pages, and as if they knew, the animals grew louder, alarming themselves of an intruder. These documents seemed court-ordered. Various signatures adorned the pages using language I couldn’t understand. My heart dropped when I realized what I was holding. Adoption papers. Among them, a newspaper clipping about a boy separated from a violent family, and adopted by rich Americans.

Slowly, with each word I read, the oxygen felt snuffed from the room, another puzzle piece falling into place. One that changed the picture completely.

Wednesday morning at 5 am, neighbors of Sheffield awoke to gunshots at the King flat. After an attempted murder of his wife resulting in two gun shot wounds to Maisie King’s abdomen, Roger King committed suicide. Maisie is currently in recovery, and her two children have been placed in foster care while the court assesses their home situation.

More newspaper headings were clipped out, detailing the TV star rescuers of the boy, how lucky he was and how a wonderful, ritzy life in California awaited him. His entire fate had been changed - but there was no mention of Gemma. And in each photo, the child-like innocence in his eyes seemed vacant, replaced with a stoic sadness I’d only seen glimpses of when he was medicated. When he was too numb to remember to keep up the mask.

For how little the Styles’s divulged about Harry’s past to the American press, in England the story seemed to be the tragedy turned happy ending. At least, to some extent, the Styles’s were owed credit for something. They’d probably paid off the international papers.

Little Harry… My stomach suddenly flipped, the room’s darkness transferring to something physically heavy in my chest. There was a photograph, too, and I carefully wedged a finger where the worn corner of it peaked out from the paperwork, keeping its place as I tugged it out. But when I saw it, I almost dropped everything.

The familiar curly-haired child I’d known from old Housewives episodes stared back at me in a worn blue polo from discolored film. Reddened tear-stained eyes looked at whoever was behind the camera.

There were fresh bruises on baby-plump cheeks, cuts across rosy cherub lips.

I looked away as soon as I saw it, but the image had already burned in my memory. A taste for the shadows of scars I could only imagine he carried ten-fold. His cuts had buried much deeper than flesh; the most dangerous wounds afflicted his soul and stole the air straight from my lungs.

Oh, God.

Oh, Harry.

How could anyone do such a thing? He was just an innocent boy, how could anyone- how often…?

Bitter bile rose in the back of my throat. Dealing with bloody injuries was one thing, but seeing a beaten child had me sick for another reason entirely. This was something evil.

I put the photo back just as quickly. I’d gone too far this time. I’d really gone too far.

So it was almost an accident that the next photo fell out when I was putting back the first.

A man, strewn across a red puddle seeping from his head. A gun tossed at his side. The bile rose again and I refused to stare, but my mind caught the ends of wavy brown hair and a face that wasn’t really quite there.

I should’ve noticed when the animals quieted, I should’ve heard footsteps quicken in the other room, but it seemed far away, muted by the roaring secret I’d just uncovered, my mind fully fixated on the life no one could have known about Newport’s playboy hier.

If Harry hadn’t noticed the velvet top of the box not quite closed shut, he saw the guilt in my eyes when he stood square before the closet doors.

He looked irritated, almost grabbing the closed box from my fingers.

“It’s the wrong box!” I cried, horrified that even my voice reeked of pity. And something else. Fear.

He froze. A flame flashed beneath the dulled emerald, a spark of knowledge I was sure he’d like to forget. That he’d probably tried to forget, countless times. He shoved it away and grabbed the other box, stopping briefly as he walked past me again. He threw a cold glare.

“Don’t be scared of the snake,” he said. “But he doesn’t like strangers.”

As if on command, a giant boa constrictor slithered out from the overhanging tree, tightly coiled around a branch.

I felt my heart lurch in my throat.

“Harry!” I called, but he wasn’t here anymore. And if he was, he didn’t answer. He left, rushing to deal with one mess, when I feared I’d just created an even bigger one. Frozen to the spot as I figured out how to basically army-crawl out of the closet, I ran out past screaming birds and rustling waters, snake eyes burning two holes in the back of my neck as I chased Harry’s shadow.

come talk about frat boy! or if you just wanna talk... i’m getting tired of talking to my dog lmao

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