#lucky's fine right now and dad apparently wants to go through with getting her surgery

[redladydeath]

vaguely considering comm//issioning someone to make plushes of my dogs

[anotheronechicagobog]

Connor Rhodes x Reader Motherfucking Done

requested prompt:  Hey!😊 Could you write an imagine with Connor Rhodes, like the reader is a doctor, and he is jealous of her friendship with Will? Cute ending maybe. Thank you so much

written by: @anotheronechicagobog​

warnings: swearing, pregnancy complications, this is shit, I’ll probably redo it later, but I’m so tired and stressed, oh and Cornelius Rhodes murdered his wife and no one can tell me otherwise

You and Connor returned to the U.S. as fast as you could. Connor more anxious than you, but then again, he had reason to. Two weeks ago you and your husband were at a party thrown by one of his patients at his penthouse. His massive, over the top, Fast and Furious 7 penthouse. It was three stories with a balcony with a pool. You and Connor always felt out of place at these parties, not even Connor had grown up around such extravagant wealth. But you made do, it was part of doctor-patient culture apparently, so you went. You hadn’t been feeling all that well, nauseous and with a skull-splitting headache. Connor had gotten another email from his sister, so you didn’t want to stress him out more than he already was. You and Connor had mostly stuck to the shade of the indoors, but eventually, you both had to go outside. Connor went to socialize with the host while you went to the third floor to the balcony that hung over the pool. There was a bar there, but you weren’t interested in alcohol. You didn’t think you could stomach it, but you hadn’t been able to stomach anything lately. You’d just sat at a table with a large umbrella and ordered a water.

You’d started feeling dizzy, the heat was suddenly beyond unbearable. You started panting and you knew that stressed out or not, you needed to tell Connor what was going on and leave. Something was very, very wrong. You turned in your seat, waving trying to get his attention. You leaned against the railing while still sitting down and he didn’t notice again. So and flimsy, shaking legs you stood up, clutching the railing. Sweat was pouring down your face and neck, it became so much more difficult to breathe, you were about to try yelling his name over the blaring music when, in a matter of seconds, you felt like you were going to faint, your entire body went limp, and you fell unconscious.

When you woke up you were, not only in a hospital, but the one you worked at. Connor, who was clutching your hand and praying in Hebrew noticed you stirring. “Y/N, sweetheart? Oh thank heavens, how are you feeling?”

“Groggy. What happened?”

“You fell off of the balcony at the top on the penthouse, three stories into the pool. Why didn’t you tell me you weren’t feeling well?”

“It wasn’t bad when we left for the party, for most of the time we were there even. It was just at the end, I tried to wave at you, but looking back on it I probably should have just gotten one of the waiters to get you. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. Please don’t be. The, uh, the doctors found out what was wrong though.”

“Really? What? Oh please tell me it’s not cancer, you know I’ve got a family history of that.”

“No, you don’t have cancer. You, uh... You’re pregnant.”

“I’m pregnant? Like with a baby?”

“Yeah, heat just doesn’t agree with some women and pregnancy though, so we need to move.”

“I’m pregnant.”

“Yeah, you are... We’re going to be parents.”

“We’re going to be parents.” The dam finally broke and happy tears flooded your face. Connor joined you seconds after, but his tears were a combination of joy and relief, after all, he did watch you fall three stories into a pool.

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You and Will had gone to med school in New York together. You’d been fair acquaintances, but he was a bit too cocky and you were a bit too serious. You both decided to have two specialties, the one you shared was emergency department medicine. You became Facebook friends, but that was about it. Truthfully, you didn’t think you’d see him in person again unless there was a reunion. So you were a bit surprised when you ran into him on your way to your OB appointment. “Y/N? It’s been a while, how are you?”

“I’m doing great. Really, really great, actually. I didn’t know that you came back to Chicago, though. When we were in school you always said you’d never come back.”

“Things changed. Congrats, by the way,” Will gestured to your obviously pregnant belly, “how far along are you? How are the symptoms?”

“Five months. Uh, the symptoms have been really bad. And I’m just on my way to an appointment though so I should get going. But maybe we could get dinner sometime, I’d love for my husband to meet you so that he’ll finally believe all the crazy med school stories I have thanks to you. He works here too, actually.” You weren’t kidding, pregnancy had taken a huge toll on you. You had wretched morning sickness, high blood pressure, gestational diabetes, and a pregnancy-related iron deficiency. It was a quick walk from the entrance to the elevator to the OB ward, so you thought you’d be fine, but you were starting to feel weak and Will noticed. “Hey, are you okay?”

“I need to sit down.” Will whipped around and grabbed a wheelchair for you, helping you to get in. “What’s wrong do I need to call your doctor or husband?”

“Honestly, I already feel better, but would you mind taking me to OB or getting someone else who can? This has just been a difficult pregnancy overall, so feeling faint really isn’t unusual for me.”

“Yeah, I’ll take you, don’t worry.”

“Thanks, I’m just gonna text Connor and let him know, he was going to try to meet me there if he can get away from work for a minute.”

“You don’t happen to mean Connor Rhodes, do you?”

“I do, why?”

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You found out why when Connor burst through the doors just after you and Will had entered. He kissed you on your forehead and gave you a once over. “Y/N, are you okay?”

“Connor, I’m okay. I just started feeling weak so Will got me a wheelchair. I think that I was just on my feet too long, well too long while pregnant. I really hate that I can’t do what I used to be able to...”

“I know, but you should have just gotten help at the door, here let’s go talk to Dr. Hajjar. Thanks, Halstead, I’ve got it from here.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“Excuse me?”

“Will!”

“You heard me, Rhodes, why didn’t you meet her at the car or entrance? You can’t really think you’re too important to help your pregnant wife.”

“Will that’s not-”

“That’s enough Halstead, you should get back to the ED, where your obnoxious presence is actually required.”

“Okay, that’s more than enough jabs from both of you. Will, thank you for helping me get here after I tried to get here myself when I probably shouldn’t have, Connor, I’m sorry for being so stubborn and I’m glad you had time today to come to another of my appointments which are happening more and more frequently.”

Will and Connor begrudgingly nodded at each other. “Thanks for getting her here safe Halstead.”

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You decided to hold off on dinner together after seeing how little they got along. Having only realized at that first meeting that the ‘doctor douche’ your husband ranted about so much was your friend from med school. So instead you did what you could to keep the peace whenever you were in the hospital, which was frequent, but their pissing contest was grating on your nerves. It all came to a head the day you went into labour two weeks early. Connor was finishing up a surgery with Dr. Downey so Will was the one in the ED when you were rolled in. “Get Connor, Will.”

“Are you sure Y/N?”

“YES I’M SURE!”

Connor came running into treatment four minutes later and gently kissed you all over your face. “I’m here, Y/N. I love you so much.” Will, who had been holding your hand while you waited for Connor, scoffed.

“ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME WILLIAM?! I AM SO OVER THIS SHITTING CONTEST YOU HAVE WITH CONNOR. YOU ARE BOTH GROWN-ASS MEN GET OVER YOURSELVES. YOU ARE BOTH GOING TO APOLOGIZE TO EACH OTHER AND HUG RIGHT NOW BECAUSE I AM MOTHERFUCKING DONE!”

“Y/N-”

“WILLIAM SEAMUS HALSTEAD I KNOW THAT YOUR MOTHER TAUGHT YOU BETTER THAN TO INCUR THE WRATH OF A PREGNANT WOMAN!”

“I’m sorry, Will.”

“I’m sorry, Connor.”

“Y/N Y/L/N you are officially my favourite person in the world, I was just about to ring their necks!”

“No problem Maggie.” You gave a weak smile as another contraction hit and Dr. Hajjar looked under the blanket before nodding. “Alright, Y/N, it’s time to push. If you’re not her husband or part of the delivery team; get out.”

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Five days later you were still in the hospital, because of all the complications you’d had during pregnancy. Dr. Hajjar wanted to make sure your blood pressure wasn’t a high average before she discharged you. So when Natalie went into labour, you could hear her screams from down the hall. You’d also been where Will briefly went to hide with his tail in between his legs after Helen, Natalie’s mother in law, dressed him down. When you heard her screaming for Will, where he was, you gave Connor one look before he sighed and called Will.

Connor briefly appeared at his father’s ‘I-want-control-as-much-of-my-son’s-life-as-possible-so-I-donated-money-in-my-wife’s-name-for-mental-health-when-it’s-mostl-likely-that-I-murdered-her’ ceremony. He only went for the speech, and when it was over he approached his sister. “Connor, it’s nice to finally see you. You’ve been back in Chicago how long?”

“Almost four months. I, uh, want you to meet my wife and daughter.”

“You- what? Who? How?”

“Well I personally have absolutely no idea how I got lucky enough to have a baby with my wife Y/N, much less have her love me as much as I love her, but I’ve decided not to look a gift horse in the mouth.”

“How old is your daughter?”

“Five days today.”

“Oh my God... When can I-”

“Now. You can meet them now.”

“I’ll get dad-”

“Claire don’t. Please. He’s the reason I left Chicago, you’re the reason I came back. I just don’t want the happiness I feel to end just yet.”

“Okay.” She hooked her arm around his as he led her out to the hall. “Did you really come back for me?”

“Well Y/N couldn’t stand the heat while pregnant, but you’re the reason we came back here and not to Seattle.”

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You were cradling your bundle of joy and poop, Aviva Nadya Rhodes, in the lounge chair when Connor and Claire came in. “Hi, you must be Claire, I’m Y/N.”

“Hi, it’s nice to meet you too. Is it okay if I hold- Aviva?”

“Sure, here just sit down on the loveseat and I’ll pass her to you.”

“Oh, she’s so tiny. And she looks just like you Y/N. Doesn’t look like she got anything from Connor. You sure are a lucky girl, huh?” Claire had Aviva’s head in the crook of her elbow and was giving the infant an unbridled, beaming smile.

”Hey! Stop trying to turn my daughter against me.”

“Connor don’t worry, you’re going to be an amazing dad and she is going to love you so, so much. I can feel it.”

“Y/N’s right, Connor. You’re going to do great, plus I’m only joking, I promise. Aren’t I, my sweet, sweet girl?”

“She loves my daughter more than she loves me.”

“I’d normally say no and try to reassure you, but she does,”

“And that’s not a bad thing.”

“Yeah, exactly. I love you, Connor.”

“I love you too Y/N.”

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Sorry this was so bad, I’ll probably re-do this at some point cause I really like the whole faint-cause-pregnant-move-to-Chicago storyline I came up with. 

Again, sorry.

[jammatown919]

Hanahaki

Not connected to other one-shots Pre-relationship TW: Blood and (kind of) vomit

Content: Amity thought she could handle it when she found herself in love, but then she began coughing up flowers.

It hadn't been a big deal at first. Being in love with her newfound best friend sucked, sure, but Amity was certain she'd be over it eventually. After a few weeks, she began to have frequent coughing fits, often spitting up blood toward the end, but even then she told herself she was just coming down with something. She'd always known she was at higher risk for Hanahaki; every Blight generation had seen at least one case, with Amity's own older brother being one of them, but she still couldn't bring herself to accept the fact that she'd developed it over Luz.

When she coughed up the first flower, a tiny blue forget-me-not, she could no longer sit in denial. Amity Blight had developed Hanahaki, and now she had to do something about it. Her first instinct was to tell her parents, but she immediately pushed that option off the table. Her parents had forced Edric into surgery for his Hanahaki, which had admittedly cured the disease, but at the cost of the love that had caused it. Stubborn and silly as it sounded, Amity would sooner die than willingly give up something that made her feel so alive. Of course, she would still prefer to avoid death, so that left only one option. She had a few weeks, maybe more, maybe less, to tell Luz and hope that her feelings were returned. Until then, she had to hide all symptoms from her family to avoid suspicion.

That worked really well for about three days. Amity had been doing a pretty decent job of pretending to have a cold to excuse her coughing, as well as disposing of the flowers and bloody tissues in a quick and discrete manner, but there wasn't really a way to hide coughing up an entire cluster of forget-me-nots, stem and all, at the breakfast table.

"That cold's not letting up," Emira remarked the moment Amity began to cough. "Maybe you should stay home today."

Amity tried to respond, but she could hardly get a breath in before the awful hacking stole the air from her lungs again. She felt something rising in her throat and slapped her hand over her mouth to catch the flower.

"Mittens?" Edric asked after about thirty consecutive seconds of coughing and wheezing. His voice rose an octave as blood began to seep through Amity's fingers. "Em, get a towel!"

Emira glanced between them, confused for a moment, but as soon as she spotted the blood, she sprinted into the kitchen. Amity pushed her chair away from the table to spare her plate from the dripping, thanking her lucky stars that her parents rarely ever ate a meal other than dinner with their children. Not even thirty seconds later, Emira returned with a towel and passed it to Amity, who moved her hand away and pressed it to her mouth. By the time she was finished, Amity was left with two panicked siblings, a very bloody towel, and a long stem with several small blue flowers on the end.

"When did this start?" Edric demanded after allowing Amity to breathe for a minute.

"The flowers started three days ago," Amity rasped, her throat hoarse from all the coughing. "I've been coughing for about a week, though."

"You've had Hanahaki for a week and you didn't say anything?!" Emira exclaimed.

"Keep your voice down!" Amity hissed. She didn't think her parents were home, but she could honestly never be sure, and she didn't want to take the risk.

"Amity, this is a huge deal," Edric pressed, though he had the decency to remain quiet. "We need to get you to a doctor."

"No!" Amity shook her head furiously, wrapping the stem up in the towel so she wouldn't have to look at it any longer. "I'm not getting that surgery."

"That surgery saved Ed's life." Emira pointed out, taking the towel from Amity.

"I don't need it, I'm going to deal with it myself."

"If you got Hanahaki, whoever this person is almost definitely doesn't like you back. Believe me." Edric's voice grew soft and his ears sank sadly. Amity knew he was remembering the person he'd been forced to give up in exchange for his life. He'd never revealed the person's identity, only that they had a boyfriend and he had no chance, but it had always been apparent that he had genuinely loved this person.

"I don't care," Amity stood up and snatched the towel back from Emira so she'd have an excuse to leave the dining room. "I like her and I'm not ready to give that up."

She marched into the kitchen, internally groaning as she siblings followed her. Of course they were going to persist.

"Who even is this girl?" Emira inquired.

"That's none of your business." Amity grumbled. She stared at the towel for a moment, decided it was too bloody to be saved, and tossed it into the garbage.

"It is if we're going to help you confess."

"What?" Amity and Edric asked at the same time.

"If you like this girl so much, we can give you one day to get your act together and confess." Emira explained. Amity rolled her eyes; she had her act together. "If she likes you back, great, no more Hanahaki, and if she doesn't, we tell Mom and Dad about this and you get scheduled for surgery."

That actually sounded like a decent plan. If Luz didn't like her back, Amity would just be hurting herself by keeping her feelings anyway. There was, however, one very important factor that Emira had failed to consider. Amity was a wuss.

"Does it have to be today?" She asked meekly.

"Mittens, your life is in danger," Edric sighed in exasperation. "Now is not the time to be a coward. I tried to wait and I could have died."

"I'm not being a coward!" Amity protested. "I'm just nervous."

"Well, man up, 'cause you're doing this today or you're not doing it at all." Emira said firmly with a hard pat to Amity's back. "Now tell us who it is."

"It's Luz..." Amity mumbled. Her siblings exchanged and unsurprised glance. "I'm going to get my bag."

Amity darted out of the kitchen and up the stairs, quickly closing the door once she was inside her room. As she swept her homework off her desk and stowed it away in her schoolbag, she grumbled to herself about her siblings. They didn't need to step in. She had it totally under control, she just needed to be able to confess at her own pace. But a small part of her knew that this was probably necessary; she'd been planning to confess, sure, but she always got nervous and bailed. If left to her own devices, would she ever confess?

With a heavy sigh, Amity slung her bag over her shoulders and trudged back downstairs to meet her siblings at the front door. Surprisingly, they didn't say anything else about her Hanahaki for the entirety of their walk to Hexside. In fact, the walk was pretty much silent, although Amity did catch them staring at her more than once.

"Do you know where she'd be right now?" Edric broke the silence as the three of them stepped onto campus.

"I can't just go up to her and say it!" Amity exclaimed. That would be far too casual. Who just walked up to their best friend and said 'I like you' like it was nothing? She didn't need some huge presentation, but she wanted it to be bigger than that.

"You really can." Emira rolled her eyes.

"No, that would be weird." Amity shook her head. "We have third period together. I can tell her then."

"That would hardly be any different, but fine." Emira decided. "Ed and I are going to check up on you after that class and make sure you didn't chicken out."

"I'm not going to chicken out!" Amity thumped her sister's arm indignantly. "By the end of third period, she'll know. You'll see!" And with that, she hurried away before her siblings could make any more remarks about her (lack of) bravery. She'd show them she wasn't a coward.

Throughout the morning, it became increasingly more apparent that Amity was, in fact, a coward. She had no plan and was absolutely dreading third period. Should she tell Luz immediately or wait until class was over? Should she write a note or say it out loud? A part of her genuinely considered waiting until lunch and getting Willow to confess for her.

By the time third period rolled around, Amity was a mess. She could hardly even bring herself to look at Luz, much less speak to her. For once, she was actually grateful for the coughing, because she could use not feeling well as an excuse to stay quiet until she could figure out what she was going to do. She never did figure it out, though, and when Luz stood up to leave at the end of class, Amity panicked and grabbed her arm.

"You okay?" Luz's brow furrowed in confusion as Amity searched for something to say.

"I-" She cut herself off with a few coughs a wheeze, which only served to worry Luz further. "I need you to meet me on the bleachers at break. There's something important that I want to tell you."

"Alright," Luz said as Amity released her arm. "But are you sure you're okay? That cough sounds really bad."

"I'm fine, I promise." Amity lied, gathering her things as quickly as she could. With a short goodbye to Luz, Amity hurried out of the classroom, heading for her next class. This was fine. There was only one more class until break.

"Mittens, over here!" Amity groaned as her sister's voice reached her. She stopped and turned around to find both of her siblings heading her way.

"Did you tell her?" Edric asked quietly once they were close enough.

"I asked her to meet me at break," Amity replied, stifling a cough. "I'll tell her then."

"Quit stalling!" Emira hissed. "You've only got one day to do this."

"Wait, Em, lay off for a second." Edric suddenly ushered Emira back, his eyes filled with concern. "Mittens, you're bleeding again."

Amity wiped at her mouth, surprised to find the back of her hand smeared with blood. She suddenly became aware of a slow drip from between her lips. She licked her lips to clean them and sucked in anxious breath, only to choke on it a second later. When it became clear that the coughing fit wasn't going to subside, Emira put her arm around Amity's shoulders and began steering her down the hallway, producing a piece of crumpled notebook paper from her cowl for Amity to cough into.

Amity sputtered all the way to the girl's bathroom, where Emira gently took the notebook paper from her and replaced it with a wad of paper towels. Amity gagged hard as a cluster came up, followed quite quickly by another. Her eyes teared up and she leaned against Emira, trying to spit up the stem that she could feel in her throat. When she finally managed to get it out, she stayed were she was, gasping for breath and shaking while her sister supported her with one arm and used the other to take the paper towels and toss them into the trash a few feet away.

"Do you think that was all for now?" Emira asked quietly. Amity noticed a pain in her eyes, and even in her wretched state, she recognized how hard it must be to watch a sibling go through something so terrible for the second time.

"Yeah." Amity whimpered. She knew there was probably still blood on her lips, but she couldn't say she particularly cared at the moment. A small part of her urged her to hurry to class, but the rest of her would've been content to curl up and fall asleep right there on the bathroom floor. Emira seemed to realize this and led Amity over to the wall so they could sink to the floor together, her ears twitching downward sympathetically.

"Let's stay here a little while." She suggested, and Amity nodded wordlessly into her shoulder. Normally, Amity would've fretted over skipping class, but she figured this was probably justified.

The two of them sat there in silence for a long while. At some point, Amity must have nodded off on Emira's shoulder, because after what felt like ten minutes, she was startled by the sound of the bell.

"I have to go meet Luz." She said as she jumped to her feet. Emira's arms darted out, as if she was afraid Amity was going to fall, but she quickly retracted them.

"Do you want me to go with you?"

"No, I'll be okay." Amity bit back a retort about not needing her sister spying her. She knew Emira was trying to look out for her, but she didn't think she'd be able to get the words out if someone was watching her.

They walked out of the bathroom together, but Amity soon split off to head out the nearest side door. She was vaguely aware of Emira watching her go, though she did her best to ignore it. The fresh air outside actually managed to ease the burning in Amity's lungs as she made her way toward the Grudgby field. Maybe this was going to be okay after all. As long as her lungs behaved themselves, she could use this time to formulate some kind of plan as to what she would say.

"Hey, Amity!" Or not. Amity sighed and turned around to find Luz hurrying toward her, smiling brightly. "So, what was it you wanted to tell me?"

"Okay, so..." Amity took a moment to collect her thoughts. Just say it. Say it fast and hope for the best. Don't cough. "Um, alright, I'm... shoot, sorry, I'm nervous."

"It's okay, take your time." Luz said kindly. "I'm not going anywhere."

Amity smiled and felt her chest swell with affection. It was going to be fine. Even if Luz didn't like her back, there was no way a girl this sweet was going to hate her over some crush. For the first time in a while, Amity really thought she was going to be fine. And then she spat up blood onto Luz's shoes.

"I'm so sorry!" She said immediately, but before she could say anything else, she fell into a terrible coughing fit.

"Oh my God, are you okay?!" Luz nearly shrieked. "Amity, that's blood!"

"I'm okay!" Amity gasped between coughs. Blood sprayed from her lips with each hack, and soon she was doubled over, retching into the grass.

"Clearly you aren't!" Luz exclaimed, her eyes wide with terror. "I'm taking you to the Healing Professor."

"She can't-!" Amity suddenly vomited a stem with two clusters, a shower of stray petals falling with it. She collapsed on the ground, trembling and unable to stop gagging.

"How do we make it stop?!" Luz pleaded as she kneeled down beside Amity, helpless to do anything but rub comforting circles on her back. "Tell me what you need."

Amity waited a few minutes for her coughing fit to ease. When she could breathe again, she slowly sat up and met Luz's teary gaze.

"Does that, by any chance, happen in the Human Realm?" She asked weakly. Luz shook her head. "It's called Hanahaki Disease. It's caused by unrequited love. Flowers will grow in our lungs until they're surgically removed or they suffocate us, unless we can get the person to return our feelings." Her face burned with embarrassment as she spoke, silently willing Luz to understand.

"When are you getting your surgery?" Luz asked innocently, and Amity almost wished for another coughing fit so she wouldn't have to answer.

"I'm not getting surgery." Amity admitted, refusing to look at Luz any longer. She could feel her ears drooping so far that they were practically brushing against her neck. "The surgery kills the feelings that caused the disease in the first place. I'm not ready to give you up."

"Wait, me?" Luz asked incredulously. Amity stiffened for a moment, horrified, and buried her face in her hands. "So, if I tell you that I like you back, this will stop?"

"It's not that easy." Amity mumbled. "It has to be genuine."

Luz grabbed Amity's wristed and gently pulled them away from her face. Heat rose to Amity's face as Luz leaned in close, her expression soft. Amity barely registered the feeling of Luz's lips pressed against hers until they'd already been kissing for a few seconds. She pulled away, startled, and stared at Luz.

"Luz, it won't go away just because you kissed me. I told you, it has to be genuine." She appreciated that Luz would try that for her, but she really wished she hadn't. If anything, the kiss would probably increase her longing and make the Hanahaki worse.

"I wouldn't have kissed you if I didn't mean it." Luz said softly, releasing Amity's wrists so she could hold her hands. "I do genuinely like you. I would've said something sooner, but I spent so long just trying to be your friend that I didn't want to mess it up. If I'd known this was going to happen, I would have told you so much sooner."

Amity's chest began to lighten and her ears tentatively perked up. A part of her still thought Luz might be lying for her sake, but the rest of her desperately wanted to believe it. Luz wouldn't lie to her, right?

"You promise you mean it?" She asked, maybe a little too forcefully.

"I promise." Luz said firmly. "Can I kiss you again?"

"I probably taste like blood." Amity chuckled self-consciously.

"You do," Luz confirmed. "But I don't mind."

"I think I'd rather get cleaned up before class starts." Amity replied sheepishly, pulling Luz with her as she stood up. She could feel dried blood on her lips and chin, making it a little uncomfortable to talk.

"Can I come with you?" Luz asked. "I want to make sure it doesn't happen again."

"Of course, but I don't think it will." Amity smiled at Luz, her face flushed harder than before as she felt their fingers intertwine. She thought it was sweet that Luz cared so much about making sure she was alright, but she was pretty sure she would be. She could almost feel the flowers crumbling away inside her lungs. "I think I'm finally okay."

[keytomythoughts]

Perfect Imperfections | Chapter 2

Chapter Index

»»—————————————-　

“Wait, you’re making your debut soon? You were still a trainee when I was in high school, right?”

He nods, one hand on the steering wheel while the other hangs outside of the car. “The company told me a month ago, so we’ve been practicing like crazy. Fortunately, practice ended early today, so I was able to swing by and pick you up from the train station.”

I smile smugly, punching his arm playfully. “Aww, you did miss me. Look at that.”

He snorts but doesn’t refute my statement. 

The evening sky is dusted in shades of rose, gold, and soft orange, the mix enveloping the horizon similar to a canvas being brushed with aesthetic paints. The clouds hang low, the sun casting shadows on the tallest of buildings with its warm, pale-yellow glow. The wind doesn’t nip at us sharply, instead shifting to a more calming, serene breeze. 

The car ride shouldn’t have lasted as long as it did, but I realize halfway that he was purposely taking the longer routes home. Sensing my lurking apprehension from our phone call hours ago, my brother picked up on that cue and decided to distract me as much as he could before we inevitably had to return.

Something my parents failed to realize. 

“Oh right, I forgot to ask,” Jaehyun stares ahead and switches lanes with ease, heading towards yet another highway, “how are Eunwoo and Moonbin?”

I did mention that Eunwoo and Jaehyun are close friends as well, so it wasn’t surprising when I found out that he knows of my friends circle. Well, those two really. Imagine my horror when I realized that they were the same age and friends. Shocking at first, but I got used to it. Besides, it’s not like we were awkward about it or anything. Moonbin also knew my brother, so we all essentially got along fairly well. 

I push the strands of hair away from my face, glancing down at my phone in my lap to find no new notifications from them since I last texted. Sighing, I look out to my right. “They’re fine. Both of them are gonna be in Seoul for the summer, so we’re just planning on hanging out until college starts.”

“Have you guys decided where to go, what you want to study?” 

I shrug my shoulders. “Not really. I mean, I’ve been thinking about medicine at Korea University, but,” I sink into the seat a little, sighing, “you know it’s not up to me.” My voice drops to a whisper near the end, my eyes casting towards the road ahead. 

Jaehyun turns to me, taking his hand off the steering wheel to gently pat my arm. “I know, sis. I really do. But still,” he removes his hand and places it back on the wheel, his eyes refocusing back on the road, “you should tell them what you want to do. Who knows, they might listen this time.”

I snort, crossing my arms over my chest. I tilt my head back against the seat, turning to look at my brother. “You really think so?”

To this, he doesn’t respond. How could he? It would be a lie meant to comfort me, but we both know the truth. He simply sighs, running a hand through his hair and leaving it behind his neck. I heave another sigh as well, both of us knowing that things may not work out the way we would like them to. 

This wouldn’t be the first time anyways.

We exit the freeway and merge onto the familiar streets of my neighborhood. Soon enough, we were pulling up into our driveway, the nervousness replacing the initial excitement of being back home. Jaehyun turns off the engine, neither of us making a move to leave the car first. Of course, with my nerves shot and breathing shallow, there would be no way I could go inside alone. Lucky for me, I’m not.

But why can’t I shake this sick feeling?

Jaehyun reaches out and squeezes my hand once, flashing that stupid grin of his at me. “C’mon, let’s go inside. Your oppa will protect you~”

I swat his hand away, my nose wrinkling in disgust but the laughter bubbles in my throat. He rubs my head again before removing his shades and stepping out of the car. Before I can unbuckle and step out myself, Jaehyun already stands at my side, holding my luggage. He waits patiently until I close the door behind me, my steps wavering slightly as I stand before the elaborately carved wooden door of our house. 

Jaehyun nudges my shoulder, smirking. “It won’t bite, Hyu.”

I roll my eyes as I follow right behind him. He unlocks the door and turns the doorknob and disappears past the threshold. I trail close behind him, a breath catching in my throat as I walk towards the living room. Everything was the way I remembered it, minus the new decorative pieces presumably from my father’s visits abroad. Living as a surgeon requires him to embark on trips overseas, sometimes not returning for months at a time. My mother, on the other hand, doesn’t actively practice surgery, instead deciding to teach as a medical professor at a top university in the northern district of Seoul. 

Four years and nothing has changed, huh? 

Jaehyun states that he’s going to put my belongings in my room before coming back down, and I nod at him. Just as he ascends up the stairs, my mother emerges from the kitchen, smoothing down the front of her lavish apron, a tight smile adorning her small, petite face. Her reddish-brown hair is worn in a small bun, her glasses hanging from her shirt. I won’t lie to you, my mother is a beautiful woman, even in her late forties. Smart, rich, and insanely polished. Not only her, but my father is the same as well. It’s no surprise where my brother gets his enviable features from, while I question what leftovers were given to me. I never believed myself to be smart or beautiful, like my parents. Nor was I carefree and sociable, like my brother. Sometimes I question if I was ever adopted, seeing as I seem to be my family’s outlier. The odd-one-out. Yet, Moonbin and Eunwoo highlighted those little bits of me that I’ve shamed myself on. Where I saw disappointment, they saw genuity. The “flaws” were my strengths. They prided me on the things my parents didn’t view so favorably. 

How I wish they were with me right now.  

My mom approaches me, enveloping me in a rather tight embrace. Wasn’t expecting that, but I reciprocate the action anyway.

“Hyuna, dear, I’m so glad you’re home,” she pulls away, grabbing me by my arms as her eyes scan my face, smiling, “and you’ve gotten so much prettier. I see your aunt took care of you well, I’m glad.” She places a hand against my cheek.

I smile nervously. “Happy to be back, mom. Sorry for not informing you and dad that I was coming back today.”

She shakes her head, tapping my cheek lightly before moving away from me. “Nonsense, dear. Your father is in his study, so he’ll be down shortly. I know how very tired you must be, so let’s set the table for dinner.” She shuffles back towards the kitchen, soon bringing out various utensils and a stack of plates. I immediately grab them from her and arrange the items on the table for the four of us. My mom kisses the top of my head and smooths my hair down, returning to the kitchen so she could bring out the meals. 

Something’s not right here.

My mother isn’t really the affectionate type. While it was blatantly obvious that I wasn’t the favorite child, that title reserved for Jaehyun (again, no surprise there), they didn’t really hate me, if that makes sense. They just tended to leave Jaehyun to do as he pleases, while I would have to listen to them. I don’t doubt that they care for us both, as good parents should, but I can’t help but feel disheartened when they would dismiss my feelings and decide to enforce their own ideals on me. Claiming that this would be “the best for me”.

As much as I respect my parents for raising me to be the ambitious, hardworking woman that I am, a part of me wishes that they would see me as a person with hopes and aspirations of my own, not just an extension of their legacy. 

How could they decide what’s best for me when I don’t even have the ability to voice them myself?

Moments later, my father descends from the stairs, my brother walking down from behind him as well. It seems like he’s been busy with office meetings, seeing as he’s still dressed in his formal beige button-up shirt and black dress pants. His glasses sit perfectly on the bridge of his nose, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his pants. 

I bow my head in respect. “Good evening, Father.”

He acknowledges my presence with a curt nod. No surprise again. He’s a man of few words, but when he does speak, he’s blunt and gets straight to the point. Wasting time and skirting around the truth has never been his philosophy. He practically radiates with superiority and firmness. From the stoic expression on his face to his neatly styled brown hair, my father was nothing short of a posh man in his early fifties. The best surgeon, the perfect doctor, the staple of all admirable men in South Korea.

In short, he’s practically worshipped by professionals across the nation. 

Naturally, my brother and I take great pride in our parents and our family’s rather successful and lavish legacy. Of course, with this reputation, it’s expected of us to uphold it. Education must be nothing short of challenging. Careers must be everything but disappointing. Appearances had to be pristine, no flaws or shortcomings apparent.

You get the picture.

My brother attended college for a short while—a year and a few months, if I’m not wrong—before dropping out once he got scouted by a reputable entertainment label. I don’t know specific details, but I do know that my parents weren’t initially too pleased to hear that he wanted to pursue a career as an idol singer. Nonetheless, and with the things Jaehyun was allowed to get away with, this was just another thing to be added to that list. I figured my father would come around and think that the Jungs shouldn’t be limited to more “sophisticated” fields—medicine, law, business, and the like. Branching out and including fine arts, including performance, would only solidify the notion that our family is meant to dominate every field imaginable with integrity and poise. 

My mother and I finish setting up the table and call for the rest to sit. Seeing the variety of dishes laid out, you would think it was a special occasion. Surely they weren’t celebrating my graduation as class Valedictorian. I haven’t told them any of my accomplishments, but I’m sure they had their means of getting access to my reports even before I was made aware of them. Connections, the most vital thing in the Jung family. It’s what helps us climb ranks and secure top positions in society. Why we’re so heavily respected, as well as feared. 

Jaehyun and I sit adjacent to each other while our parents are seated across us. We begin to eat in silence. Nothing too different from how we had family dinners back then, albeit the absence of my father or mother from late meetings or an overseas conference. To be quite frank, it did seem strange to have a meal with all of us present after so long.

My father suddenly clears his throat. “Hyuna, I heard from the teachers at your high school that you performed excellently. I’m pleased to hear this.”

I pause, my eyes training up to meet his steady gaze. Though pleased, he didn’t seem to express it facially. A direct complement is seldom said, so it comes as no surprise that it was the only thing I, or my brother, would be receiving. 

Jaehyun nudges me, realizing that I hadn’t responded as my father awaits with the same steady expression.    

“O-Oh, thank you, Father.”

He nods, placing his utensil back down on the plate before clasping his hands in front of him.

“Now that you’ve graduated, have you considered your possible college options and future career plans?”

This. This is the very question I’ve been dreading.

I can feel the air around me grow thick with anticipation. His words hang in the air, the words to respond with the scripted lines I’ve recited endlessly in my brain unable to fall from my lips. I suddenly recall what Jaehyun and Moonbin had told me prior, to try and voice my opinions in hopes that they may be heard and properly considered this time. After all, I would never know if I didn't try. Here’s my chance.

But, my father continues upon my brief hesitation. “With your academic record, you would have no issue enrolling in the top universities within the country. Even abroad, if you considered that as well.”

I gulp, my fingers clenching tightly in my lap. I force my rapid heart to slow its pace in fear that it may burst out of my chest, my breathing trying to be as calm as it can be. I can feel Jaehyun eyeing me from the side, and my mother stops eating as well. 

There’s silence. One which I break when I open my mouth to let the words bottled up in my mind spill out before I can properly think them through.

“I want to stay here, in Seoul.”

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 

[this-is-my-main-i-follow-from]

I already wrote this post, but I’m coming backk up to the top to put a cut bc it’s p long.

my brother is singing falsettos out loud & I’ve already had a stressful day bc I’ve done nothing (lack of structure & lack of productivity gives me really bad anxiety) & he’s either singing out of key & out of time, or it just sounds really bad without the music. He’s the only one who can hear the music bc HeadPhones. & also the falsettos is probably really bad for my mom bc she’s mad that dad left her, esp bc the house is a mess & stressing her out & she needs to go grocery shopping & he used to do that “but now he doesn’t because he stopped loving [her]”, so my bro singing fucking falsettos is really bad. I can’t cook supper bc I don’t have a recipe & the stuff is still frozen & idk what kind of dough I should make & besides the kitchen is a mess & he won’t fucking clean it. I mean it’s also partially my fault bc I’m a lazy adhd mofo, but it’s his job today & my job to cook. I need to get into the kitchen & cook before mom & my OTHER brother get home from shopping but I can’t bc he’s just drawing & singing & the singing is so annoying- I was trying to listen to a thing but I couldn’t fricking hear it bc adhd auditory processing disorders, it didn’t have fucking subtitles or anything & it was not great audio quality & I couldn’t differentiate between the words he was singing, & I couldn’t hear the quiet parts when they overlapped with his singing. I wasn’t going to write all of this I was just going to say that his singing makes me want to cut myself, but apparently there’s a lot more to it. also I don’t want to end up cooking while mom is home bc I don’t have any drawings on my arm & mom is fucking nosy & wants to see my scars so I have to work extra hard at hiding them but even with ppl who arent nosy, like my little bro I don’t like them out, but the longer my older bro sits there fucking yelling out of key, the longer I’m delayed & I won’t be able to cook. By this point, I won’t even be able to cook the meal I was planning on, I have so much shit to do I’ve missed so much & I’m so behind, but I’m so incapable of doing anything like i can’t do chores bc I use the excuse I have homework but I never fucking do my homework so I’m also behind in school & even with the stuff I like like dnd & writing & violin I can’t do, & I skipped online kung fu & I’ve been slacking off under so many excuses but I’m just being lazy & anxious & I also gained so much weight & it makes my body feel so bad & i know this isn’t my body’s happy weight & being fat makes my boobs bigger & I’m fucking trans & I hate them I even tried cutting them off myself & ended up waiting 15 hours to go to the hospital so that I wouldn’t make mom suspicious (& they put me through triage really fast bc apparently I did a lot of dammage- I was planning on giving myself stitches, but my icepack melted & I couldn’t numb my body anymore so they’re lucky I even went to the hospital, it was bad bc I had to walk 20 minutes either way weighted down with a fucking toolbox & I waited outside in the cold bc my phone died & thus:) mom found out anyways so I lied to her about going to buy drugs bc obv /that’s/ a better idea than telling her I went to the hospital & SHUT UP UNNAMED OLDER BROTHER ok he’s between songs now. If I told mom I went to the hospital she would ask why & be like “y didn’t u tell me” & “r u cutting urself again” & like yeah bitch I have been for a while ik the social worker said I should tell you a codeword, but I don’t do that bc u blame yourself or cry or want to talk about & I yes I fucking cut myself what of it? Yeah I tried fucking removing my own left breast, bc u arent’ supportive of medical transitioning, at least not when they’re ur kids. Ur mad at dad bc he got a tattoo bc it’s  body modification & thus uncatholic, but u’ll support ur catholic university friends gettin gtheir eldest daughter a reduction bc her boobs are big & painful- bitch what’s so different about me? I went so far as to try giving myself a reduction, you say you’re concerned about me mutilating my body & making bad decisions, but, you know what? because of this I have legitimately mutilated my body, & made a dangerous & bad decision. isn’t autosurgery proof that I need top surgery bc it’s a danger to my life if I don’t get it? The government is able to pay for it I think & bc it’s a danger to my health (& i get pain & I can’t work out & I get back pain & my skin pulls & hurts & if I jump my tissues yank my skin & it hurts & it puts so much strain on my back, & binding gives me pain, so I need a reduction as much as your catholic university friends’ daughter does) I should be abe to qualify. Even if I don’t qualify yet & have to wait two years, at least that would be the start of two years now instead of in a long time, I mean, mum, you say you want me to talk about it & you’re afraid I’m rushing into it? guess what? They are too! the healthcare system will make me do a bunch of shit to qualify, & tbh, I think that they are better qualified to talk to me about surgery & what I really want than you.  Fucking finally, I hope my brother is done his play & finally shuts up. TA MA DE FUCK NO HE’S STARTING AGAIN CROWS DAMN IT CROWS CROWS CROWS & MAGGOTS I”m not even gonna be able to make anythiung for supper & i have no ideas besides the long one which I don’t have time for anymore. fine. whatever. I’ll go SH in my room. I won’t even work on fanfic bc I’m too fucking adhd & broken. I fucking hate it when ppl say “we;re all a bit adhd” like no bitch shut the fuck up, we all struggle with the things adhd ppl struggle with sometimes, but adhd is a neurological condition that makes those struggles so commonplace & intense that it affects our everyday lives. & no. adhd does not mean we’re more creative. Even if we do have more likeliihood of coming up with funky ideas, most of us struggle to articulate them or understand them, or we forget them as soon as they come. you’re not adhd bc you’re a little more creative, youre just an ableist asshole & fuck you. adhd isn’t creativity its’ a fucking disability. I’m directing this at those fucking parents who have the lovely nd daughter who gave me a hug, but you two are motherfuckers. Yeah I get thaat adhd, once you learn how to mannage it, can be useful, & I understand that part of the reason this disability is so hard is bc society isn’t designed for it (like a lefty using right hand scissors), but ot’s still fuxking REAL & if you can’t deal with it yet, it 100% is a disanbility. OK? Ok. I had smth I was going to say earlier, but I got distracted by smth else that made me mad, so I never got around to it. Youo know what I love? I fucking love how tumblr has next to no character limit so I can just type as much as I want. You know what I don’t like? I’ll probably get deactivated by some SJW maggot-eaten crow-fucker who thinks that my rant& mentioning my failed ed & my self harm (oh fuck shut up, my brother is chanting “dumb”) so anyways some fucking sjw fuck-hole will report this post & my blog & I’ll be deactivated for simply getting angry on tumblr. It’s fucking tumblr! You used to be able to say whatever you needed to say! But now, esp us ppl w EDs, have no safe place to talk about our issues (at least, not w/o fear of gettin gterminated for “encouraging” EDs, when we’re just trying to help ourselves). Anywasy, sorry for all the swears & go se, I swear when I’m mad. I’m gonna go do smth, idk what. Can’t be anything productive, Can’t even be unproductive stuff I like, like watching youtubem, or smth cathartic like playing fiddle. I might just go & bleed a bit & ignore everything for a while. I nkow that the world will still be stressful when I get back, & I’ll still have to cook, & I’ll still be behind in school, & mom will still be broken-hearted over dad, but I’m feeling calmer just thinking about it so that’s what I’ll do. 

[aethelar]

The thing you don’t realise when you look at Newt is that he was born a girl. Or - no, that’s not right. He was born a boy, and even when he didn’t realise it he felt uncomfortable and out of place every time he was reminded what people saw him as.

Maybe, he thought as a teenager, hair down his back and makeup lining his eyes, maybe I’m just not trying hard enough. Maybe, he thought, looking at the other girls, there’s something wrong. Or maybe there’s nothing wrong. It’s normal for girls to be uncomfortable in their skin, isn’t it? That’s why makeup exists, why you grow your hair so long the weight of it gives you headaches, why you define yourself by the way other people see you and not by the way you see yourself.

But that was then. He was born a boy in a girl’s body, and when he was fifteen, kneeling in front of the bed so Leta could make a lopsided mess of his hair with the too-blunt scissors from her pencil case, throwing out the revealing clothes he’d tried so hard to feel feminine in and curling up laughing in a baggy hoody that disguised his chest, he became a boy in a boy’s body, and it was good.

It was good. A womb does not define a person. He’s lucky; with his hair short and his binder on, he looks like the boy he knows he is, and for him, that’s enough. He never went for surgery. He didn’t need it. This is not a story about struggling to accept yourself or to be accepted because Newt called himself a boy and he was one, and when Graves learnt that his body was a different shape underneath his clothes he didn’t run screaming for the hills because really, who does that? The sort of relationship that matters to is not the sort the story’s about.

It’s about the sort of relationship that started at university. First day, first term, Newt met Graves on the stairs and Graves offered to help him with the oversized suitcase he was hauling to his room. We’ve gone for a modern AU. No magic. They’re the same age, or nearly; Graves is a few months older. Newt studies science because he’s good at biology but he wants to be a writer, Graves studies history because you shape the future by learning from the past, they live two doors down from each other in first year and in second and third they share a house with three other people and Newt spends more time in Graves’ room than his own, and in fourth year Newt stays on because he changed to zoology half way through and is a year behind and Graves goes out to the world and gets a job and it’s hard to be apart but when they see each other they make a big deal of it and it’s good.

This is a fix it. It’s not fixing canon. Newt is the way he is because a womb does not define a person. It’s a fix it.

They live together again when Newt graduates. A flat above a shop in the centre of town. Not a flat, a maisonette. They have an old cat, one that goes out the window over the kitchen sink and scampers along the rooftops, a sofa made squishy with too many cushions, and an entire cupboard in the kitchen dedicated to an overflowing variety of tea. Graves’ coffee lives on the side. They stay in the flat for less than a year, then they travel; that’s on Newt, who came home one day and said, “I’m going to quit my job and go to South America, do you want to come?”

Maybe it was drastic. Maybe it wasn’t. He doesn’t do well in offices. Graves blinks, and phones his mum, and tells his work, and they offer him a promotion if he’ll stay because fuck it, he’s actually really good at what he does. He chooses Newt. It’s that kind of love story. You have to understand, Graves chooses Newt, all Newt’s failings and all the stupid ways Newt doesn’t fit together and doesn’t understand how people work and the way he changed degree half way through because he has the sticking power of a greased teaspoon and the only thing he’s ever stuck with this long is Graves, and Graves chose him.

I don’t know what needs fixing. I don’t understand. I love Graves. Newt loves Graves. Why does anything have to need fixing.

The cat went to live with Newt’s parents. She enjoys the garden, and Newt fusses about the fact that she needs the expensive tooth crunchies because she’s an old cat. Old cats still need love, they just also need someone to care for their teeth, and when the flat is packed up and moved into Newt’s parents’ loft the box of cat things is left at the bottom of the stairs to take over the rest of the house. As it should be. Newt and Graves travel, and they argue, and in Mendoza Newt throws his hands in the air and says fine, if that’s the way you want to be - and when he storms off, Graves comes after him.

“You muppet,” he says, catching Newt’s hand in his. “You’re going the wrong way.”

Even when they argue, Graves is stupidly sweet. It would be easier if he wasn’t. The problem with things that are nearly perfect is you can’t back away. You’re in too deep to ever give up, and when they come back, they get married. They choose a house with a spare bedroom that could be turned into a nursery. They make a fuss of their old lady at Newt’s parents’ house and decide it would be kinder to leave her where she is. Part of loving a cat is knowing when it would be selfish to uproot their life again just because you want them close, and Newt’s parents’ house is full of sunspots that she likes to sleep in.

In their new house, they have fish. Many fish. Newt names them all, even when they breed, and it breaks his heart to take some of them back to the fish shop because they’ve bred too much and he doesn’t have the space to house them all, but he does. Gerbils, two gerbils, in a big glass tank with a wheel fixed to the back by plastic hooks stuck to the glass. They sit in Newt’s palm and eat bits of courgette, and they like trying to dig their way through his elbow when he’s wearing sleeves. Another cat, a little menace from a rescue shelter who has zero manners and zero regard for appropriate play, but who, slowly, cautiously, learns that Newt is for sleeping on and that Graves is for rubbing her head against and that she can meow to get what she wants instead of going straight for the kill with her teeth.

She isn’t allowed in the gerbil’s room. She learns to open doors. When Newt and Graves thought they’d have to install child locks at some point, this isn’t quite what they had in mind.

“Papa’s little monkey,” Graves says, scritching at the base of her tail while she purrs. “Savaging Mummy, knocking everything off the shelves, what are we going to do with you, hey?”

“She doesn’t savage Mummy any more,” Newt protests. “She’s getting better at claws-in.” Her favorite toy is a sheep-plush tied to a piece of garden twine; Newt dangles it for her and she does a somersault in its general direction and pounces. She only savages now when it rains and she has too much energy to be cooped up inside, and she sits on the windowsill and yowls as though Newt were being too slow in fixing the weather for her to go out and play.

It’s family. Newt is Mummy. Graves is Papa. It’s nothing to do with the fact that Newt has a womb. The house has an extra bedroom, it’s full of boxes at the moment with a random chair thrown in for fun, but it’s meant to be a nursery at some point, and here’s the thing.

Before they got married, they talked about kids. Graves is a softie. He melts. He does the silly voices reading the story books, he picks them up and lets them ride on his shoulders to make them laugh. Cousins. Friends’ kids. It doesn’t matter. He was always going to be a dad, and Newt always wanted to be there with him, and that, like so many other things in this story, is good.

Newt can’t remember how the conversation happened, but. At some point, it came up. Newt has a womb. There is no reason, biologically, that he couldn’t have kids. He loves Graves. At some point, at some time, when it was a thing for the distant future, he said yes.

He said yes.

They tried to have sex that way. Newt couldn’t. Not - no, he could, he’s just not trying hard enough. Maybe there’s something wrong with him. Maybe there’s nothing wrong. He’s been through this fucking trial before and he accepted himself and this isn’t a damn story about that.

He was on birth control. Side effects include loss of libido, among other things. He talked to a doctor, and he said, “It’s fine. He’s fine. He knows I don’t like sex, that’s not the problem, I’m not worried about our relationship. I just... want to give him kids one day.”

He went off birth control. He was recommended a self help book. He was prescribed anti depressents, anti depressents, he’s asexual not fucking depressed and the reasoning, apparently, is that it makes you calm so you don’t panic while it happens and is he meant to fucking roofie himself for the sake of his damn fix-it?

He doesn’t take the anti depressents. He tries reading the self help book and gives up in disgust. His periods come back, and with them the pain and the urge to cry and scream and hate the fact that he can wrap himself in his flag all he likes but flags don’t solve problems like this and Graves doesn’t push, Graves never pushes, Graves understands and brings him ice cream and sits through the most awkward conversations with as open an expression as Newt could ever have asked for and Graves is damn wonderful it isn’t his fault that Newt has a womb and doesn’t want to use it but how the fuck do you fix this mess -

And the place it goes wrong is that Newt says: “What do you think of adopting?”

And the place it goes wrong is that Graves says: “Oh.”

It’s not a good oh. It’s an oh that says, I wanted your kid, not someone else’s. It’s an oh that says, I’d really rather not. It’s an oh that says, there’s no pressure, take all the time you need, but at the end of the day adoption is not the solution you hoped it was.

Why not. Newt brought it up after the first time they failed to have sex, tentative, not pushing. Then he went to the doctor, got his implant taken out, went through all the tests and all the awkwardness until he could get referred to the hospital. The hospital. There’s nothing wrong with him. Being asexual is not a disease. Having a womb and not wanting to use it is not a medical issue that needs to be fixed.

He’s had consultations. He’s had an ultrasound and confirmed that all the tubes are tubing like tubes ought to do, there’s nothing to stop him getting pregnant if he tried. It’s almost a disappointment, that, and when he realises he was waiting for it to be a way out he brings it up again.

“Graves,” he says. “If you want the baby to be yours, would you consider a surrogate?”

“Oh,” Graves says. “I thought the hospital was going well?”

Going well. The tubes are tubing. Newt does not have a disease. Newt does not want to have sex. Or to be pregnant, or to give birth. “You can’t cure asexuality,” he tries to explain, but Graves knows that. “You’re asking a lot of me,” he says next. It’s been over a year since they married. Graves hasn’t been to the doctor about this, Graves wouldn’t be the one growing a baby inside him for nine months. “We both want a family, and I’ve been trying really hard to give you one, but all the compromise is ending up on me and I don’t want to go through with it.”

“But if we adopt,” Graves says, “Then all the compromise goes on me.”

Here’s the thing. Newt doesn’t understand. I don’t understand. A baby is a baby, what do you lose if it isn’t genetically yours? The fish that were born in our tank get taken back to the petshop, the cat that was abandoned by someone else stays in our house and claws up our sofa, what’s to stop you loving someone just because you didn’t make them? You make them when you raise them, you love them because they need you, none of that changes if they don’t share your DNA.

Graves can’t explain. I don’t know how to write him. I don’t know how to fix this. I love him. How can’t he see, how can he be the person I know so well and love so much and not see the months I’ve been going to the hospital, the compromises I’ve already made, how can Graves not appreciate that Newt having a womb doesn’t mean he has to use it, how is this story meant to end?

“Will you talk to someone?” Newt asks. “Someone who isn’t me?”

“Why?”

“Because when you talk to me, I think there are things you don’t say because you don’t want to hurt me. Neither of us want to argue, and it means that we’re both being too careful, and I think that if you talked to someone else you wouldn’t have that to hold you back. I think it would help.”

Graves is doubtful, I think, but he agrees. He’s quiet for the rest of the day. At lunch, he takes himself up to the gerbil’s room that will one day be a nursery and drinks his coffee and Newt leaves him to it, and maybe he’s talking to them about it, who knows.

At lunch, Newt sits by the fishtank with his cup of tea. He opens his laptop. He writes, and he talks to fictional characters, and he starts a story he says is a fix it and ends with it in a jumbled mess.

You can’t blame Graves. You can’t be angry at him. You have to understand, he’s a good man. I love him. Just because he can’t explain why it’s important doesn’t mean it’s not important, just because it doesn’t matter to me that the baby is genetically ours doesn’t mean it shouldn’t matter at all. It’s not his fault Newt is the way he is.

It’s not meant to be anyone’s fault. There’s not meant to be anything wrong with it. He’s always understood that before.

I don’t know what to do.

[ma-gic-gay]

In Port Charles, New York, there was never a large amount of time without someone having a near death experience, death, or traumatic event.

Michael and Willow had been pretty fortunate, ever since they got married the only bad thing that had happened was Wiley being kidnapped and they had all recovered from that, mainly. Granted, they still checked on him twice a night, but it didn't matter. Everyone was healing and the pair were trying desperately to tell each other what they felt without actually saying the words.

So it seemed it was time for them to deal with a traumatic event, according to whatever controls what happens with people in this town.

Whatever controls these people's lives decides to make them get caught up in a gunfight, where Willow was about to get shot. She had been kidnapped hours before and was being used as a pawn in a scam Cyrus had concocted against Sonny. He knew Sonny cared about Michael's family, but that he couldn't get Michael himself or he'd be killed.

When Jason and Sonny fired their guns at Cyrus and his guys, they'd fired back at a tied up, scared Willow. Michael jumped in front of them, his own gun firing as he was shot in the chest. The bullet just grazed Willow, and though she was in intense pain, the worst she'd ever felt, her first concern was Michael. He needed medical attention immediately, or else he'd die.

That brings us to the present, where Willow got shot in the shoulder and Michael's still in surgery to try and save his life. When they'd had her sign something earlier for it, a medical form she didn't know quite the details of, it had really set in. Michael could be dead because he was trying to save her life. Willow's bullet had been a through and through wound; they were able to get her all taken care of quickly. She's bandaged and traumatized, but fine. Michael, on the other hand, could be bleeding out on an operating table for all she knows. He got shot in the chest and the doctors think it's in an artery.

There are no words to describe how she felt, finding out that her husband had a large chance of death. Cyrus, stupid Cyrus and his mob games he had to play with Sonny. Stupid, stupid Sonny. If he wasn't in the damn mob, Willow never would've been kidnapped and Michael never would've been shot. He wouldn't be fighting for his life on an operating table right now, trying not to die. This was Sonny's fault as much as it was Cyrus's.

Sonny enters her room cautiously. "Willow, I'm so sorry you got caught up in all this. You never should have been involved in this situation in the first place and I have no clue why you were even on Cyrus's radar in the first place."

"I think that you should know damn well why I was shot, Sonny! The same reason Michael was, because you're in some territory fight with him. You're lucky Carly didn't get shot or another innocent bystander in your fight with him. Your mob war is fine, but I don't want anything to do with it. I married Michael, and I knew that it meant I was marrying into a mob family with you being his dad and all, but I didn't expect this! Your son is fighting for his life on an operating table right now because of you! I got shot because of you! My son could be in danger or on the radar of a known mobster right now because of you and your actions!" Willow angrily shouts at him.

The mobster is confused before he responds, "Don't you think I know that, Willow? Don't you think I feel terrible about my son having to fight for his life because of me again? I'm not a monster, despite you apparently seeing me as one. This life- it's not what I ever thought my life would be. In some ways, it's so much better, but in others, it's terrible. I don't know how you got to be involved in this, or if Wiley's on their radar, but my guys will take care of it."

"Take care of it meaning you're going to put us on house arrest like you did your entire family because you can't control the mob wars you start? Or maybe we'll have a guard following us everywhere we go like Joss. I'm sure I could get some pointers from her about how to live your life with a guard following you," she fires back, heart racing and angry.

"My family means everything to me. I-I would never do something that I thought could put my family in danger. I'm having one of my guys check right now and see if Wiley's on their radar. They're gone, the bad guys. No one is hurting any of you because you're all good people. Michael's the former head of ELQ and lives at the Quartermaine mansion, so I don't know if he was on their radar because of his last name, but I also don't know why you're the one they took. If they wanted to kidnap someone, Michael probably would've been easier to than you were," Sonny ponders, clearly apologetic about his actions.

Thinking for a moment, Willow breathes deeply, wincing slightly. "I'm sorry I blew up, but I'm anxious right now. I mean, my husband is on the operating table. Not exactly a great thing for me, or Wiley. I also got shot, which isn't exactly a fun experience. Add in the kidnapping, I'm pretty sure that there's such a high amount of adrenaline in my system right now I could be having a panic attack."

Jason enters the room with Sam and Dante. "How you holding up?"

"Shot, kidnapped, angry, scared, traumatized. I'm wondering, why did they pick to come after me? Sure, Cyrus and all them know I'm married to Michael, that's not old news, but if they wanted to get mad at Sonny, why not take one of his kids?" Willow asks, trying to distract herself from the fact that her husband could be bleeding out right now and that she's in a hospital bed with a gun wound.

"Well, Michael and I are adults. We've dealt with this stuff before, it'd be harder to just kidnap us. Avery is at Ava's, and they don't want to mess with Julian or Nikolas. Donna's got so much security around her, it'd be near impossible to, and Kristina would make an absolutely terrible hostage. Joss has a guard following her, and would also be a bad hostage. All of us wouldn't be good targets to kidnap, and so there could be the argument he could have taken one of Jason's kids, but they're all innocent in everything and Jason would go ballistic. It just wouldn't make sense. You, however, are new to this life, married to a Corinthos, have a child with one, and don't really seem like you've been kidnapped before," Dante explains.

"So I was the easiest target for them to take, pretty much?" Willow asks and they nod.

Sam speaks up now, "It makes sense that if they wanted Michael, they'd take you. Wiley's a bad target, considering that there's so much energy put into making sure he's okay at all times. You're his wife and he loves you, so they want to lure him in, they take you. Tell him exactly where to find you, exactly what to do to get you back. Only thing is, they didn't count on Sonny and Jason being there too. So they saw them and got scared. Shot at you since you were still tied up and Michael, being Michael, saved you. They wanted to hurt Sonny and the best way to do that is by hurting his family. You were the easiest target and collateral damage."

Willow sighs, angry and hurt. "So in an effort to hurt Sonny and Jason, they wanted to hurt Michael. They knew that they couldn't take him, so they take me instead and make him come get me and try to kill us both?"

"These people run off of trying to find a soft spot. This one matched for both of them. Carly was probably their second choice, except she's an absolutely terrible hostage and they know it would've been too obvious. If they could kill you and Michael, Sonny lets down his guard because he's grieving and probably raising Wiley. I'm grieving, everyone involved in the business is grieving. They can take over Port Charles. It's unfair and cruel, but true," Jason summarizes to her.

Portia comes into the room then, looking somber. "Is he okay? What-what's happening with Michael?" Willow asks immediately, frantic for news on her husband.

"Willow, the bullet that hit Michael was in one of his arteries. We were able to remove the bullet, but we don't know if he'll survive. The surgery was intense, and the damage he took to his heart was as well. His body, like yours, has faced a huge trauma, but since his was to his heart, we're not comfortable yet with anything," the doctor tells her and the brunette bursts into tears. It's like her heart is slowly cracking and they're dragging out what's happening.

"Portia, just tell it to us straight: What are the odds?" Jason asks, face emotionless.

"Michael has a 50% chance of survival," Portia admits. "The next 24 to 48 hours are going to be crucial to getting more exact odds. Right now, he's not allowed any visitors, but we will be changing that in a few hours. I'm so sorry I don't have better news."

Those are the words it takes for everyone to be crying. Jason, in a rare showing of emotion, looks like he's going to break down. Sam's face says it all: She's heartbroken. Michael's practically a son to the both of them, especially Jason. But Sonny, his face is the truly heartbreaking one. He breaks down right then and there, sitting on the floor of the room and crying. Dante looks shocked, like he's not processing this. "What the hell?" He asks. "Dad, what the hell is it with you and killing my brothers? First Morgan, now Michael?"

"Dante, your brother is still alive. He is in critical condition, but alive. The odds of survival will likely increase after I go to check on him in a few hours," Portia calmly explains as Carly runs into the room, crying.

Carly runs to the space in between Jason and Sonny and asks, "What's wrong with my baby? Why won't they let me see him? Is he alive?"

"Yes, Michael is alive. He was shot in the chest and it got in an artery. The surgical team was able to save him, though he is in critical condition with what I'm predicting is a 50% chance of survival. He will be allowed visitors in a few hours," Portia spiels, everyone understanding it more now and the room more tearful than before. "Carly, if you want, Joss and Dev are more than welcome to stay with Trina and I for the next few days, since I know you and Sonny will be here, and I presume Jax will be as well."

"Thank you, Portia. That would be great if it's not too much trouble," Carly thanks her, tears still streaming down her face.

"Of course," Portia smiles before leaving the room. "Jason, that offer extends to Danny and Scout too."

"That's nice, but they're gonna be staying with Elizabeth and her boys. Thank you for offering," he says solemnly, tears building up in his eyes.

The room has an aura of sadness as everyone processes the information they've been given. Michael has a 50% chance of dying, and a 50% chance of surviving. All because of Sonny's stupid fight with Cyrus. Despite what she may have said, Willow is still beyond upset with Sonny, as is Dante.

"Sonny, you caused this. Not Cyrus, you. By starting that stupid fight with him, you put all of our lives on the line. Now, Michael's fighting for his life in a hospital bed and Willow's been shot too! The only reason we're in this situation is you and your stupid mob war. You're lucky I'm not PCPD anymore, or I'd arrest you for all of your illegal activities and put you behind bars because none of us deserve to have this be our lives!" Dante shouts at his father, angry and needing someone to blame but truthful.

"I know that, Dante! I know that I'm the reason my son could die. I'm the reason Morgan did too, I know. I'm so sorry, Willow, that you got caught up in this because they wanted Michael," Sonny tearfully tells his oldest son.

Willow takes a deep breath, calming her sobs. "I am angry at you, but I know that it's Cyrus's fault I got kidnapped and that Michael and I got shot. Why I was kidnapped, I still don't fully understand, but I can see how badly you feel about this. So I accept your apology, but I can't forgive you for this yet."

Dante breathes, trying to calm himself, as he says, "They took you because Michael loves you and they wanted him to get to Sonny. It's stupid and rude, but the truth."

Love? That four letter word hadn't been said by either of them yet; they were getting annulled for God's sakes!

That would probably be getting put off indefinitely while Willow and him were recovering from their gun shot wounds. It would be easier on everyone because Monica would be there if something bad happened to either of them and Wiley wouldn't have to move around or anything.

Noticing her silence, Sam asks, "You didn't know that?"

"Is it that obvious?" Willow asks, noting that the pain of the wound is starting to go down.

"Yeah," Dante laughs. "It's really obvious. Stupidly obvious, to be honest. You two, I presume, have been in love with each other for at least a few months by now. It's just that neither one of you wants to say it because you're scared you'll ruin your friendship somehow or whatever."

There's a quiet laughter in the room for a few moments before the air turns somber again and tears come back full force. It's evident that all of them are in pain, emotionally and, for Willow, physically.

Several hours later, Willow's entire hospital room is full of people. Maxie, Spinelli, Anna, Finn, Monica, Bobbie, Brook Lynn, Ned, Jax, Joss, Dev, Cam, Elizabeth, Franco, Nina, Lulu, Lucy, even Sasha and Chase are there. A lot of people know Michael, and a lot of them care a lot about him. It warms Willow's heart to see that, to know that the man she loves has so many people who love him and care about him.

Portia comes in the crowded room with Trina, who envelopes Joss in a hug. "Michael can have guests now," Portia tells them, "but only one at a time. He may still be a bit woozy from the anesthesia, if he's even awake. He will likely be confused somewhat and drifting in and out of sleep. Don't talk about anything serious with him, or he'll get more confused."

As she leaves the room, Joss says, "I think Willow should go first. If there's anyone Michael would want to see first, I think it would be her."

Everyone nods their agreement and Elizabeth goes to get Willow a wheelchair. Sitting in the chair is fine, standing and walking isn't. She already hates how much this is slowing her down, considering that she's always been so quick to go and do things. This is pretty much just a shitty situation.

Elizabeth comes back, wheelchair in tow, and Willow moves to get in it, wincing in pain but ignoring that. She's got a husband to see. "You know," she jokes, "Michael and I never had a honeymoon. I guess this is the closest we'll get before our annulment."

"If I hear one more word about that annulment," Carly threatens and Monica agrees.

"I'm not letting you two make this decision, no annulment!" Dante smiles and everyone laughs for a minute except Chase and Sasha, but it's obvious that they mean it.

"Our fans grow," Willow chuckles as Elizabeth wheels her into Michael's room, which isn't far from her own.

"For what it's worth, and not that my opinion has anything to do with your marriage to Michael because it doesn't, you two do make a very good couple in a way I don't think we've seen around here in a while. Again, not my spot, but still, I think you two have some talking to do before you agree to end your marriage," Elizabeth tells her. "Count me as a fan."

Chuckling, the pair go into Michael's room, where the energy is instantly changed to more of a sad, somber energy. After all, he is in a hospital bed, hooked up to a lot of tubes and machines. Willow was lucky, her IV could go with her. Michael's setup is much more complicated.

Willow's wheeled up to his bed before Elizabeth leaves, telling her to just text someone when she needs to get wheeled away again. It's evident Elizabeth can't stand to be in the room much longer.

When she leaves, tears start streaming down Willow's face. This is more difficult than she thought it would be, though she was trying to joke her way through it. Her heart aches seeing him like this, the man she married fighting for his life in a hospital bed. It's heartbreaking, knowing that she's got a chance of him not making it, that he'll die on her. She knows he'll fight like hell to stop it, but at the end of the day, you can't always get what you want.

It's this thought that makes her want to say what she's been feeling, confess like she's in some movie or something. The words have been on her mind for weeks, but she couldn't bring herself to say them because there was a chance he didn't feel the same.

Opening her mouth to speak, Willow notes that only a sob comes out. It's not a pretty sound by any means, if anything it's an ugly one, but it's okay because Michael's still alive. "This, what I feel for you, it's hard to put into words but I'm going to give it my best shot. I fell for you because you're you. That makes no sense, I know, but that's why I fell for you. I fell for you because you're so unapologetically yourself, even when it's causing an issue. I fell for you because I want the whole thing, the stupid little fights and the joking, the love that's always there. I fell for you because when I look into your eyes, I stop thinking. I fell for you because that look you give me, that keeps me up at night trying to figure out what it means. When we kissed, I can still feel it when I go to sleep at night. You, without my knowledge, walked into my heart and just decided to get comfy. Falling in love with you was beyond my control, but I'm okay with it. This- falling for you has been the scariest thing in my life because I'm giving you the power to destroy me. You're destroying me, not knowing if you'll make it or not. It breaks my heart, knowing you could die because of me. I couldn't deal with it if you die. So hang on long enough for us to watch movies while eating a pizza we just bought in a Walmart. Hang on long enough to have stupid pillow fights with me in bed at three am because Wiley's starting school tomorrow and we can't fall asleep. Do it for me, do it for him. Do that for us. I love you, Michael, and I don't see that ending so please, just wake up."

By the end of her beautiful proclamation, Willow's full on crying. Tears are streaming down her cheeks and her heart is broken. Even though he's not dead, Willow just spilled her heart to him. It could be the last thing she ever says to him when he's alive, that she loves him. That thought terrifies her, that he could die and never fully know if he knows she loves him.

"I don't know what it is, but somehow, you can always make me smile even when I'm feeling the worst I've ever felt in my life. Without me even thinking, I can see a future with you. A future full of a couple more kids and happiness. Don't get me wrong, I know romance isn't always happily ever after. But still, I know loving someone the way I love you is so uncommon, especially so quickly. I love you, and I'm going to tell you that because it's true. You deserve to know the truth, and simply put, that's the truth. Those three words that terrified me have been so common in my brain thinking of you. And telling you, it makes me feel relieved. Because you deserve to know these things. At the end of the day, you deserve to know I love you," Willow tearfully tells him. "So you can't die on me, okay? I love you and we haven't even started our story yet, so you've got to survive so we can have our happy ending."

No response from Michael, nothing. His vitals are the same and he looks the exact same too, still great but wounded. He looks frail, lying in that hospital bed.

Maybe her words can't save him. Maybe he's already gone, already left her. It's sad to think about and makes her breakdown, sobs coming from her mouth with tears so plentiful she can't even see anything. She takes his hand, holding it in hers. This, this is the moment in all those movies where he would squeeze her hand, wake up.

Life isn't a move though, she realizes, as she continues speaking. "I get it if you're already gone and your heart's still beating, but selfishly, I want you to wake up. I want you to wake up and we can stop the annulment, fall even more in love. Selfishly, I want a huge love story where we're together for so long that people ask if we're still together and wonder how we are because we've been together so long."

"And so you have to be okay, you have to wake up from this, you have to. I get it if you don't know entirely, or if you don't fully want to, but Wiley and I need you to. Everyone here, and everyone in the waiting room, everyone crowded in my room needs you to wake up. I love you," Willow tearfully reminds him.

She pulls out her phone and texts Elizabeth she's okay to leave the room, that someone else can come in, and within a minute, Carly's in there, staring at her son, equally as heartbroken, if not more, as Willow is. Carly's been through this before; Michael was in a coma for a year and a half at one point. That doesn't mean it's less heartbreaking or easier; if anything, the opposite is true.

"I'm so sorry this is happening to you," Willow says to Carly. "I can't even imagine what you're going through."

"Thank you. I know exactly what you're going through, Willow. Sonny and Jason have been through this enough, I know just how bad it hurts and how worried you are. But Michael's strong, he'll survive this. I have faith he will survive long enough for you both to have a happy family and me to have more grandbabies. Don't even try to say that I'm wrong, because he loves you as well," Carly smiles sadly at her, tears still streaming down her face.

Willow can't help the smile on her face when she hears that. "It's good to know someone's sure of that, because I'm sure as hell not."

Carly laughs, incredulous. "How do you not see it, Willow? He's told me, flat out, that he loves you. It's so obvious that you two love each other that the fact you're both denying it or not thinking about your love for each other is getting annoying."

"I don't know. I guess I just didn't think he loved me back, but I'm going to wait for Elizabeth."

Elizabeth walks in and wheels a teary eyed Willow back to her room. "I take it that he's not up yet?"

"Nope, he's still not up. I spilled my guts to him and he's still asleep or whatever he's doing," Willow explains to her, showing off her lack of medical knowledge.

"Well, I'm sure he'll be up in a few hours, Willow. This is Michael we're talking about, he'll pull through. He always does."

When she says that, the pair have reached the room, which is still crowded with people. Willow gets herself back in bed, despite the pain that causes. After all, it's not like she's going to die getting in bed.

More time passes, and everyone goes into Michael's room until everyone's visited and he's still unconscious. It's heartbreaking, knowing that the longer he takes to wake up, the lower his chances of survival are. Medical odds are terrible sometimes.

Jason goes back into Michael's room, noting that his phone was left there on accident. Willow nods her head, pretending she heard what he said.

When he comes back, there's a huge smile on his face very unlike what you have happen when you find your phone. "Michael's awake," he says.

Tears of sadness are replaced with tears of joy as the room gets a much happier energy. "Can I go see him?" Willow asks, already getting out of bed and into the wheelchair that has been left at her bedside.

"He's asking for you," Jason says, hugging Sam tight to him.

Willow smiles widely as Dante pushes her down the hall. "Please let this make you two say how you feel about each other," he smirks.

"I already have, but I don't know if he heard it," Willow smiles at him.

"Well, sister in law and cousin in law in a completely unconvoluted way, I think he did and know he feels the same so if you two aren't together by the end of this, I will be very upset," Dante jests as they reach Michael's room.

He steers her up to his bedside, as close as she can get, and then leaves the room.

"Willow," Michael says, voice quiet. It's probably because he's just speaking again after major heart surgery.

"I'm right here," Willow smiles, grabbing his hand gently.

She watches as a smile comes across his face and he looks at her with the look he always gives her. "Good. I don't want you leaving me alone in here. This room is kinda creepy and very boring, but you make it happier. You make everything happier. I heard what you said earlier. Well, parts of it. It was beautiful and if I wasn't coming out of an anesthetic because I got shot, I'd probably be able to say something much more beautiful than I'm about to, but I love you. So please stay married to me."

"I would love nothing more than to stay married to you, Michael," Willow tells her husband truthfully. "You scared me for a while there, I was so worried that you'd die on me before we could have our love story."

"Hey, I'm not that bad. I would never die on you and Wiley. But our love story has already begun, because it's been brewing since we met. Now, it's just turning romantic officially," he smiles at his wife. "If you think of it, us getting shot was kind of a great thing because now we're telling each other what we otherwise wouldn't be."

"Thank you for showing up when you did," she thanks him, "and for saving me. I would've died had it not been for your bravery."

"I wasn't being brave, I was so pissed I wanted to kill those bastards but I needed to keep you safe. So I took a bullet to the chest, but it's worth it," Michael explains. "If you died, I would have never forgiven myself. So thank you for being a good hostage to them so that no one actively wanted to kill you until I got there with my dad and Jason."

They both let out a chuckle, though Michael winces in pain a few times. "That wheelchair can't be comfortable for your back, do you want to come up here? There's plenty of room."

"I don't know if Portia would allow that," Willow smirks at him, "but I doubt she'd object too harshly."

Several minutes later, Willow's in the hospital bed next to Michael and they're both fast asleep.

Words

[timotey]

Ficlet: A Piece of You (Now a Part of Me)

Dark Blue Kiss/Kiss Me Again ficlet, PeteKao. Set at some point in the future.

Notes at the end of the fic. For @inlovewithjdramas. Sorry it took me so long.

Pete is in a car accident. Kao isn’t. They both end up in the OR.

🤕🤕🤕

He wakes up to dull pain. All over, really. He doesn’t understand. He tries to move - and then, a much sharper stab, in his abdomen, so sharp in fact that it steals his breath away. He gasps.

A rustle, a soft voice, “Son? Pete, are you awake?”

His dad.

Clenching his teeth, Pete turns his head to the side and cracks his eyes open, just a little. “Dad?” he croaks out.

His father, dressed in scrubs and with a surgical mask on his face. Only his eyes are visible and they look old. Old and distressed and relieved and tearful. 

Pete tries again. “Dad? What hap’n?” What’s wrong with him?

His dad strokes his hair gently. “You had an accident, son,” he replies softly.

Accident? “Car?”

“Yes, a car accident,” his dad says.

A car accident. Where was he going? Pete racks his brain for a while - his mind is foggy and fuzzy and running sideways it seems - and then it comes to him: He was meant to pick up Kao from school.

Kao!

His eyes open wide, alarmed. “Kao?” he croaks out.

His dad leans closer, takes Pete’s hand in his - gloves, he has rubber gloves on - and assures him quickly, “He wasn’t in the car with you. He wasn’t there. I promise.”

Oh. The relief is so profound, so deep that it saps all of Pete’s strength - he had so little of it, how odd. His eyes close. “So where… where is he…?”

He doesn’t hear the answers. 

He falls asleep.

xXx

The second time he wakes up, it’s day. He doesn’t remember if it was day before; it’s all blurry. But now it’s day and he feels better. Much better, actually. And there’s a nurse puttering around his bed, a pretty older woman in scrubs whose eyes smile brightly above her surgical mask when she sees him awake.

“Good morning,” she greets him cheerfully.

Pete looks around slowly. “My dad?” he asks.

“I finally convinced him to go home and get some sleep!” the nurse replies, adjusting Pete’s blanket a little.

Good, Pete thinks. 

“And… and my boyfriend, Kao? Was he here?” Pete hopes that he was. But at the same time he hopes he didn’t just sleep through Kao’s visit.

The nurse clucks her tongue. “He tried - he was very adamant - but the doctor wouldn’t allow it.”

Oh. Pete guesses that only family members are allowed in the ICU - because that’s where he’s been staying, apparently - and it makes him sad, the thought that he might not get to see Kao before they let him out of here.

But then the nurse continues, “She ordered your boyfriend to stay in bed for at least one more day. The surgery went exceedingly well since you’re both strong, healthy boys--” Then she pauses and looks Pete up and down. “Well, apart from all the bruises and scrapes you suffered, honey. But, yes, you both passed the surgery with flying colors and you’re going to be just fine - in time. It was a major procedure, after all. Your boyfriend, though? All he seems to think about is you!” She sighs and shakes her head.

Pete stares at her as she rants about the foolishness of youth and then he cuts in with a sharp, “What surgery?”

The nurse falls silent and her eyes widen. She glances towards the door and shuffles her feet uncomfortably. “I thought-I thought your father told you…” she stutters out, apparently realizing that she said something she maybe shouldn’t have.

“What. Surgery?” Pete repeats firmly, glaring at her. The machines by his bed beep loudly, telling the world all about his anxious state of mind. What happened? Where is Kao? How is he?

Stepping closer, the nurse waves her hands quickly, trying to get him to calm down. “He’s fine. Your boyfriend is perfectly fine. I swear. I promise,” she blurts out, obviously realizing the cause of Pete’s distress.

And yes, those words do allow Pete to dial down his anxiety a notch. Still, he frowns at her and his voice is firm and unbending when he asks her, “What is going on here? Tell me now or I swear I’ll climb out of this bed and go find out myself!”

“Fine,” the nurse allows. “Your car accident, it really messed up your internal organs, mainly your liver. The doctors had to remove it.”

What?

“And since there’s no dialysis treatment for liver like there’s for kidneys, you needed a transplant immediately,” she continues. “Your father, of course, offered but he’s too old and his health isn’t up to something like this, even though he’s in a spring condition - for his age. So your boyfriend stepped in. From some past school project he remembered you two had matching blood types and…” She shrugs. “We did all the necessary tests and he was a perfect match.”

Pete stares at her. Kao… Kao gave Pete a part of his liver? There’s a piece of Kao inside him now? Pete touches his abdomen, stunned. “Is Kao-is he really alright?” he whispers. That he himself almost died will hit him later, he’s sure. But right now, all he can think about is Kao.

The nurse smiles. “He’s doing really well. Liver is actually a very adaptable organ. In time and with the proper medication and care, it’ll grow back and you’ll be both as good as new.” Then she adds, her smile turning fond, “You’re a really lucky guy, you know? Your boyfriend loves you very, very much.”

Pete smiles back, just a little; he won’t be able to truly relax until he sees Kao with his own two eyes, until he checks for himself that Kao’s really okay, he knows that. But he still smiles and petting his abdomen lightly, he replies, “I know.”

He loves Kao, too. Very, very much.

xXx

The third time Pete wakes up, it’s evening, the sun is about to set - and Kao is there. He’s sitting slumped in a wheelchair by Pete’s bed, dressed in a hospital gown. He’s holding his abdomen with his left hand and Pete’s hand in his right one, rubbing Pete’s knuckles with his thumb.

“Hey, love,” Kao greets him warmly when he sees Pete blink his eyes open groggily.

When Pete hears Kao’s voice, when he feels his touch, he’s immediately wide awake. “Kao,” he whispers, studying Kao warily, looking for signs of… something. Kao hurting? Feeling ill? Uncomfortable? But besides a slight twitch now and then when he moves wrong, there’s nothing. Kao really does seem fine.

“How do you feel?” Kao asks softly, staring at Pete with so much love in his eyes that it makes Pete’s throat thicken a little. 

Pete shrugs. “Good. Like someone pulled through the wringer but… good. Thanks to you, from what I heard,” he adds, turning his hand in Kao’s and squeezing it.

Kao smiles.

Pete’s next words startle him, though. “You shouldn’t have done that. What if something went wrong? What if-what if you hurt yourself for nothing? What if--” 

He cuts himself off because his mind still can’t work its way around the fact that Kao really did that. That he willingly let them cut him open and carve out a part of him, that he gave a piece of himself to Pete, just like that.

“You would’ve done the same thing,” Kao replies.

“No, I wouldn’t have,” Pete snaps back but there’s no heat behind his words, no real conviction. Rudeness is his knee-jerk reaction to… well, to fear. Not of his own injury or death but of Kao’s.

Kao smiles again and lifts Pete’s hand to press the back of it to his own cheek. “Alright.”

Pete… Pete looks away. The fondness in Kao’s face, the understanding in his eyes, they make his throat grow thick again. He hates dealing with emotions. He hates that Kao knows him so well. 

Well, not really. No. He doesn’t.

Kao brushes his lips across the back of Pete’s hand before pressing it against his cheek again. “How about you just promise me to take better care of yourself from now on, huh? A piece of me is now a part of you so, you know,” he shrugs,  “I have a rightful claim to you. And I’m not giving you up.”

Kao’s words, they make Pete’s chest feel all warm, they make him happy. Still, he grumbles as is his wont, “Well, it’s not like I blew my tire on purpose. Could happen to anyone.”

But Kao’s response is a simple, soft, “I know.” He doesn’t bicker back. And when Pete looks at him, he sees the stress of these last… who knows how many days reflected in face. Pete can’t even imagine what it must’ve been like for Kao. He doesn’t want to imagine himself being in Kao’s place, seeing Kao--

Pete clears his throat. “Alright. I promise,” he mutters and when Kao’s whole face brightens, he looks away again. Kao’s happiness makes Pete… it makes him... it’s so… 

“I love you, Pete,” Kao tells him.

And squeezing Kao’s hand tight, holding onto it as if it were his lifeline, Pete replies, softly but with much feeling, “I love you, too.”

xXx

Notes: I based this fic on a Hawaii 5-0 episode and the comings and goings in the transplant ICU on my own experience from when my mom got her kidney transplant. It might differ by the country, though.

[cirrus-lily]

morning light - l. norris

author : @cirrus-lily

pairing : lando norris x fem!reader

other character(s) : the briefest mentions of george russell, alexander albon and carlos sainz jr.

genre : fluff ; angst ; one-shot

fandom : formula one - motorsport

warning(s) : mentions of road accident ; set mostly in hospital ; descriptions of patient in medically-induced coma

word count : 1.47k

summary : there is nothing like the feeling of waking up in the morning after thinking you wouldn't make it through the night.

a/n : this one is Big Sad oh well...but it’s really nice and i’m lowkey so proud of this :)

"lando, i'm driving over to your place now, i can't wait to see you again."

"alright love, drive safe."

—

"mr norris, we are sorry to inform you that your girlfriend, y/n y/l/n, has been involved in a road accident and is on her way to the hospital now. you'll be allowed to see her at the hospital after some checks."

"i'll be there as fast as i can."

—

"you're awake."

"i am."

"i thought i would never see you again love, don't scare me like that ever again."

"you won't get rid of me so easily, lando norris."

—

"because of the impact of the accident, she needs to go for a surgery in order to walk again. the surgery has a 50% chance of success, but if you decide to do it, we'll try our hardest to make it work."

"i'll do it."

—

"mr norris, due to some complications from the crash and the surgery, ms y/l/n has been placed in a medically-induced coma. we are unsure of when she will wake up."

—

DAY 1 - LANDO

this sucks. it's messed up. it's all my fault.

it would be so different, if i did all the things i should've.

i should've driven over to her place.

i should've told her not to do the surgery.

i should've done more, to take away her pain, to put her out of her misery.

she'd be awake next to me, at my place, watching netflix and laughing over dumb things and talking about the future and-

"y/n love, if you can hear me, wake up. i can't lose you, not now, not ever."

UGH why is it all so hard?

why her?

why not me?

—

DAY 2 - Y/N

it sucks. i want this to end. i want to wake up.

it hurts to know that lando is hurting.

i wish i could tell him that i can hear him, every word that leaves his lips.

i wish i could squeeze his hand that's in mine, to tell him i'm right here next to him.

lando norris, i'm right here, don't you worry. you can't get rid of me that easily.

why did my body react like that to the surgery?

why couldn't the surgery just be successful?

why did i do it even though i had a bad feeling about it?

why was i so stupid?

i think that, not knowing if i'll make it through the night.

—

DAY 3 - LANDO

it's been three days without her, but it feels like three months. i just want it to end.

george, alex and carlos came over today to check on me, to make sure i was coping okay (i'm not).

george said something about how people in comas can hear and feel, even if they don't respond.

he told me to keep talking to her because it'd (hopefully) help her to wake up sooner.

i know i can't stay here forever. i got lucky because it's the winter break.

but at some point i have to face the rest of the world. i have to go back to the factory.

i have to drive a car.

"love, wake up. i need you to be with me until the end of time. i need to hear your voice again, see you smile again. i need you, i love you. wake up, please."

the day will come that i'll need to leave her in this room, away from me.

but i don't want that day to come.

—

DAY 7 - Y/N

i don't even know how long it's been. that's what happens when you don't see the sun rise and set.

whether it's been a week, month, or year, lando's been here the whole time. i sure as hell hope it hasn't been a year, because i wouldn't want him to stop driving because of me.

i'm starting to go stir-crazy. i've not moved in too long, haven't spoken in too long.

i've tried talking, moving. knowing that lando is there, mum and dad are there, my friends are there, all hurting, hurts me.

i wish i could give them a sign, to tell them it's going to be fine.

guys, i'm okay, i'm right here, it's going to be alright, trust me.

i say that, not knowing if i'll ever see the light of day again.

—

DAY 10 - LANDO

ten days, and counting.

doctors say that her condition is stable, although there is no indication on whether she will wake up.

apparently, no memory loss will be a miracle.

if she doesn't, i might just go crazy.

i hope she doesn't forget who i am.

i hope when she wakes up, she'll remember every moment we've shared.

"love, please remember me when you get up. i don't think i could live without you knowing all the times we've shared. i'll always remember you, always."

her parents keep telling me to go home and wash up, get changed.

but i don't want to leave her side.

i don't want to miss the moment she squeezes my hand.

i don't want to miss the moment she wakes up.

—

DAY 15 - Y/N

fifteen days, i heard the doctor say.

well, that explains why i'm about to go crazy.

i've been using the number of sleeps to count the number of days, but obviously i've been inaccurate.

it doesn't help that every time i fall asleep, i don't know if i'll ever get up again - it's why i hate falling asleep. not knowing if you'll ever see the day again sets a kind of fear and paranoia in you.

i'm not ready to go. i've got so much life left to live.

lando, i'm awake, wake me up. i know who you are, i'll be by your side to the end of time.

i say that, not knowing if i'll ever get to see his face again.

—

DAY 17 - LANDO

the heartbeat monitor keeps me sane now. every beep telling me that she's still alive. it gives me the truth, not like the predictions the doctors make, which sound like empty promises.

i keep talking to her, telling her how everyone's been. how i've been trying to cope. how much i need her and that i love her.

the mclaren crew popped by to pay me a visit yesterday. when they saw her, they looked absolutely crushed - she belonged to the mclaren family as much as i did.

everyone thinks i'm going mad.

they're not wrong.

zak and andreas have told me to take my time - which i'm grateful for, but it isn't going to change the present.

i don't know how much longer i can go on without her.

if i ever have to face a day without her, i might as well not face it at all.

"wake up, please. i don't think i can go on much longer without you. i need you. i love you, y/n, until the end of time."

—

DAY 20 - Y/N

as i wake up from my sleep, my eyes open along with me. i see the blinding lights and flinch, before adjusting to my surroundings.

i can turn my head. i can see the trees outside my window. and there is lando, perched on his chair next to me, my hand in his.

there is nothing like the feeling of waking up in the morning after thinking you wouldn't make it through the night.

i test my body to see if it works, remembering not to move my legs because - well, surgery. i squeeze lando's sweaty, warm hand, yet not wanting to wake him up at the same time.

his eyes flutter open. they are rimmed red, bloodshot, watery. he doesn't believe i'm awake - doesn't want to, in fear that it's all a fever dream and i'll be asleep again.

"y/n? you're awake?"

i nod, gesturing for a glass of water, which he hands to me.

my hands are shaky as i take the glass, sipping it slowly as lando tries to prop me up on the hospital bed.

"i'm sorry. for hurting you, and everyone else. i should've told you i will be all fine. i'm so sorry lando, i love you, i never want to see you cry. i'm so sorry."

he shakes his head, tears in his eyes.

"it's not your fault. you couldn't have predicted that this would happen, what counts is that you are okay now, and you're right here with me."

"but-"

"no buts, love. you're okay now, and you'll get better with time. i'll be right next to you through it all. you and me against the world, forever. okay?"

"okay."

he smiles.

"maybe okay will be our always."

i smile, for the first time in twenty days.

"maybe."

[jawnjendes]

i’m tired too | shawn mendes

university au summer vacay babey, shawn x goth gf

*******just letting yall know that the chapter before this, girl you’re trouble did not appear in the tags when i posted it, so if u havent read it go ahead and do that now :P

masterlist | series playlist

My tongue was between my teeth as I focused on my reflection in my little compact mirror. Carefully, I filled in my eyebrow with dark brown powder, ignoring the people sitting on either side of me on the couch. Having two sets of eyes on me made it hard to carve out the enhanced version of my face, though. I tried to shift in my seat to get them to focus on literally anything else, but neither of them let up.

“She’s so good at that,” Mom said in admiration. She was sitting on my left.

“Isn’t she?” Shawn agreed in the same tone. He was on my right.

I paused and sighed. The previous evening, Aaliyah pointed out that my mom and her brother had some uncanny similarities. I thought she was just bringing light to the fact that they both… adore me. But they had the same mannerisms, like talking with their hands. They were both optimistic as well, unlike me… and my dad. I pretended not to see any similarities until now. I was just glad Aaliyah wasn’t here now to triumph in her discovery.

“Are you guys gonna do this the whole time?” I asked, looking back and forth between the two of them.

“Well, you’re so pretty,” Shawn said, bringing a hand up to stroke my cheek.

I leaned away from his touch. “I just did my foundation!”

My mom laughed. “She won’t let you touch her either! I’m glad it’s not just me!”

Shawn gave me a surprised look. He learned just a little too much about me in the last twenty four hours, and it wasn’t stopping anytime soon.

Luckily, my dad, who had been scrolling through his phone on the other side of the couch, piped up. “Shawn, I heard you play guitar?”

That started the music conversation. I was glad to have the attention off of me for once, all anyone asked me about these days was my stupid hospital stay. Plus, I could finish my makeup in peace. Not to mention, Shawn was still convulsing and crying in his sleep, so things were… not ideal at the moment. But he got to talk about his love of music, which was something my dad could relate to.

“You know, I used to be in a rock band,” he said. “Back in eighty-seven, me and my buddies played shows from my parents’ garage. That’s how I met Lucy. She was standing at the front of the audience for every show. We only had about ten people attend if we were lucky, but she was always there.”

Mom placed her hands over her chest fondly. “I think music has a beautiful way of bringing people together.”

You wouldn’t be able to tell just by looking at my mother, but she lived for heavy metal. She was the one who introduced me to the symphonic metal bands I listen to now.

“Oh, a hundred percent,” Shawn agreed. Then he told me parents that he and I met at one of his shows at a coffee shop.

Today was much more calm than the last. My parents slept on it, and they decided that they were just happy that I was live. I was just glad they stayed at a hotel, too. I couldn’t imagine being holed up with them after not living with them for a majority of two years. I also wouldn’t know how to explain why my boyfriend was yelling in his sleep every hour.

I really did miss my mom and dad. It kicked in when they had to go home at the end of the week. I was supposed to be home too. None of this was supposed to happen this way.

~

After my parents were gone, I was able to get around the apartment by myself. I didn’t need a babysitter anymore, so I tried to be happy about that. However, my incisions still kept me from doing anything strenuous, which meant I had no excuse not to return to work anymore. Most of what I did was sit behind a desk in a tiny office, so I made my first day back that Friday. I figured I might as well make some type of income to, you know, pay for my books for the next semester and uhhhhhh fucking live. I had to find my independence again somehow.

Anyway, my first day back at work was as mundane as it always was. It was like I wasn’t even gone for three weeks. Stacy gave me a professional “welcome back” and then hit me with the work I missed that I needed to catch up on. I spent the morning adding up gas receipts, entering vehicle information into the computer, and booking service appointments over the phone.

In the afternoon, Jason and Luca came in for their shifts. They approached the window of the office and stopped in their tracks.

“You’re here?” Jason asked in disbelief. “Weren’t you quitting?”

Clearly, no one knew or cared where I had been lately. I mean, I must have told Stacy to keep it confidential while I was high on morphine. Even then, I wasn’t exactly popular here.

“I had surgery, and now I can’t hop on a plane home,” I explained shortly.

“Oh, so you were dying and you weren’t planning on telling us?” Luca said, holding a hand up to my face in a dramatic fashion. “How dare you.”

I blinked once and then got back to adding numbers from the stack of receipts. The two of them entered the office, and that was when another question popped into my mind.

“Who covered me while I was gone?”

“Not me!” Jason said as he went to his desk at the back of the office.

Luca stood by mine and puckered his lips like he was thinking to himself. That said it all for me.

“Shoulda known.” I rolled my eyes. “Not a goddamn thing was done, and it’s month-end.”

“Hey, Stacy told me to book appointments,” Luca said defensively. “I lost commission these last few weeks because of that. I sell cars. I’m no receptionist.”

Bet he didn’t even book appointments either. Bet Stacy told him to cover all of my responsibilities. Luca just did not give a flying fuck about anything.

I spent my lunch hour in the car. Normally, Shawn would have come to meet me so we could eat together… or not eat. He was working too, though, and from the texts he sent me, he had been working on a flower arrangement for a wedding. He was going to be busy all day. When did we become a boring, married couple?

“You’ll never believe who they put to cover me while I was out,” I typed out in a text to Shawn. I munched on my white rice as I sent it.

“Who?!” he replied within a few minutes. I could almost hear the enthusiasm.

“Fucking Luca. He did fuck all, so I have a bunch to catch up on. Plus, it’s the end of the month, so we all have to close a bunch of sales and warranties and all this other boring crap. I’ll be home a little late.” Send. More white rice. God, I’m tired of rice.

My phone buzzed again while I was scrolling on Instagram. Shawn had replied. “Aw. Ok hon. I’m gonna have a couple of friends over tonight, just letting you know. Some of them want to see how you’re doing.”

“Ok. I’ll see you at home.”

“Love that you see my place as a home now :)”

Uhhhhhhhhh… Who’s gonna tell him? Who has to remind him that I was staying at his place for convenience, because I am recovering from a surgery? That I literally almost died and my complications kept me from travelling long distance…? Who’s gonna tell him?

~

I was horrifically fatigued when I got home. I seemed to have forgotten that stressing over numbers and annoying phone calls was mentally straining. Maybe travelling by car wasn’t a great idea either, but how could I not drive? I had a job to go to. I had an apartment to get back to. As I walked up to the front door, I wished that I didn’t have to worry about things like income and bills to pay. I just wanted to lie down and not get up again.

Walking into the apartment, I realized I probably wouldn’t even get to do that.

First of all, the door was unlocked. Shawn had given me a key, but apparently I didn’t need it this time. I was met with music and laughter as stepped over the threshold. I found people, strangers, when I peered into the kitchen.

It was a small kitchen, but there were five frat boy looking guys all holding plastic red cups. Among them were three breathtakingly pretty brunettes. I’m talking Instagram models, wearing sparkling crop tops and skin tight leggings. They were all laughing about something until they saw me at the doorway.

“Rock on, emo queen,” one of the frat boys said, holding up the rock and roll sign.

Yeah. Even in my work uniform, which was a button up with the company name on, was in fact black. Not to mention, the eyeliner I had put on in the morning smudged so much throughout the day that I now looking like a raccoon having a mental breakdown.

Awkwardly, I continued padding down the hall, finding more people standing and talking amongst themselves. Again, more ridiculously pretty girls and their dates. All I could smell was weed. I tried to keep a stink eye off my face, but it was the only thing that made people move out of the way so I could get to the living room.

Finally, there were people I recognized. Brian, Connor, Teddy, and Shawn were among a bigger group of strangers sat on the L-shaped couch. So this was a couple of friends?

Shawn noticed me first and raised his arms in the air, making me notice the red cup in his hand. “Look who’s here!”

That caused several pairs of eyes to turn to me, causing me to feign a smile. Everyone raised their drinks and cheered. Oh god, I was in a room of drunk toddlers. I was in a whole ass apartment of drunk toddlers. And my fucking boyfriend was the toddler hosting the other toddlers.

“Come, sit here,” Shawn said, waving me over. “I missed you!”

I still felt awkward and tired and far from the vibe everyone else was currently on. I stepped over and went to take the empty space next to Shawn, but he grabbed my wrist and pulled me onto his lap. My face went hot at the gesture, but not because of the affection, or the fact that he chose to rest his hands on top of my thighs. His chin rested on my shoulder, and I could smell the alcohol in his breath. Oh jeez.

“Man, let your girl breathe!” Brian joked, seeing the discomfort on my face.

“It’s fine,” I said sheepishly. I noticed several empty plastic cups and shot glasses on the coffee table. It wasn’t even ten o’clock yet.

“Yeah,” Shawn agreed, “I mean, I’d sit on her lap, but my poor baby had surgery. Wouldn’t wanna hurt her.”

Before I could retort, Teddy spoke up. She, too, had her own cup and was very obviously under the influence. “Oh yeah! How did that go? What even happened?”

I was going to reluctantly explain, but Shawn spoke for me again.

“My little fighter looked death in the face and said ‘fuck you!’”

Several gasps and fascinated expressions came from the group on the couch. I resisted the urge to plant my face in my hands. There goes my business, out in the open for everyone to put their noses into.

“You almost died?” Connor asked in shock.

“Ooh, story time!” Teddy announced. “Spill! Now!”

Been home for ten minutes, and I was not in my pajamas lying under the covers. For me, this was a couple of steps away from a worst case scenario. All eyes on me, expected to talk about things I wanted to keep quiet about. And it was all prompted by my drunk boyfriend, of all people.

“I had a bowel resection, and then I hemorrhaged,” I explained curtly. Then, I moved Shawn’s hands off my thighs and got to my feet. “And now I have to stay here and recover for the whole summer. The end.”

Some people booed at the length of my story. I’m sure I was expected to tell an awesome tale about the battle against my infected guts, but I was really not in the mood for that. I had to tell the story twice at work, and that was enough for me.  I didn’t really care about being a massive party pooper at the moment.

“Baby, where you going?” asked Shawn as I stepped away from the group.

I sighed and turned back to him. “I’m gonna change out of my uniform, and then I’m going to sleep.”

He pouted and got up to approach me. He came up close, so things felt a little more private. “Come have fun with me. We never have fun anymore.”

The plea in his voice was a jab straight to the heart. But I couldn’t find it in me to change my mind and stay with him.

“I’m not really in a party mood,” I said apologetically. “I had a long day, I’m really tired.”

Shawn’s face fell even more. His hazy, tipsy eyes filled with concern. “You want me to kick everyone out? I’ll do it! I’ll do it right now!”

I quickly got ahold of his wrist before he could rally the troops. I already had enough guilt on my shoulders. “No! No, no, no, don’t do that.” I held his hand in both of mine, and I ran my fingers over the swallow tattoo. “Have fun with your friends. You’re right, things haven’t been fun lately, and I’m sorry for that. You deserve a good time, even if I’m not there. Just have a drink for me, okay?”

He could have put out some things about how the party would be better if I was there. He could have sweet talked me into sitting on his lap again for the whole night. Instead, he squeezed my hand and said, “Straight tequila, right?”

Relief washed over me. “Yes. Remember to drink water too.”

“I gotchu, honey.”  Then, he leaned in a pressed a sweet kiss to my lips. “Keep the bed warm for me.”

The taste of alcohol on his lips made me one percent more likely to join him in the festivities. The other ninety nine percent yeeted my ass to the bedroom. Once I was alone, the crushing feeling of deliberate isolation sent me to the surface of the bed.

I was the type of tired that kept me from actually sleeping. I could sleep through plenty of external noise, living in a college dorm was enough experience. It was just my foggy brain and burning throat getting in the way. I grabbed my Switch from the nightstand and played Smash Bros, tuning out the sounds of people having a better time than me.

Every so often, I heard people cheering or chanting, “chug, chug, chug!” I remained curled up in bed, fighting people online to get my frustrations out. Taylor Swift’s Love Story came on around 1AM and everyone screamed the lyrics, while I brought my t-shirt to the bridge of my nose to catch oncoming tears. I felt guilty and selfish every moment I wished Shawn was here to spoon me til I fell asleep. He spent so much time worrying about me, he deserved to forget it all once in a while. God knows I wanted to do the same, but my insides were still recovering.

I had put my Switch away and I was lying on my side by the time people were saying their goodbyes out in the apartment. Some guy was praising Shawn for having such “epic parties” as they put it. Weird, this was the first party of his that I witnessed. We’ve been together just over six months. How much of himself was he holding back because of me?

“Whoo!” I heard Shawn yell, followed by a glass shattering loudly.

The sound woke me up a little. Meaning, my legs got me standing and dashing out to the living room. My eyes scanned the place, which was now vacant of people and full of trash, but I found Shawn sitting on the floor just outside the hallway.

The place was a mess. Half empty cups, food, and mysterious stains covered every surface in the apartment. I was only worried about my boyfriend.

“Hey, cutie,” I said affectionately, bending down so we were at eye level.

Shawn’s eyes were hooded, but sparkling. He gave me a toothy grin and held up a peace sign.

Then, Teddy emerged from the kitchen. “Oh, did I wake you? I dropped a cup, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, I wasn’t exactly sleeping,” I told her, still looking at Shawn. I waved my hand in front of his face, only for him to blink slowly. “Uh, how much has he had to drink?”

Teddy chewed her lip as she thought about it. “I lost count after his fourth shot.”

“My girlfriend told me to have ten tequilas,” Shawn slurred, belching right after. “I think I had like, six.”

I held my breath and waved off the stench. Someone was in for a long night, longer than normal. I didn’t think he would take me seriously, but then again, I did not tell him to have ten shots of straight tequila.

“Oh yeah, he mixed his liquor too,” Teddy said.

I sighed and moved Shawn’s long arm over my shoulders. “Okay, vamos mi chulo. Let’s get you to bed.”

Teddy stepped in to help get the six foot toddler to his feet. Shawn stumbled and swayed, his long arms hanging heavily on our shoulders. I baby talked him as we slowly strolled to the bedroom, and I told Teddy I could take it from there.

Shawn burped again as we got closer to the bed, and he groaned. “Ugh… this isn’t fun anymore.”

“Okay, let’s go to the bathroom,” I said, steering him the other way.

It took a minute to get him positioned in front of the toilet. It took less than a second for him to lean over the bowl and return everything he drank. As much as the sights and sounds of vomiting brought me dark and lonely flashbacks, I went and sat on the edge of the bathtub. I rubbed Shawn’s back and practically waited for it to end.

Once that was overwith, I really couldn’t go back to sleep. I managed to lay Shawn down on the mattress. The sparkle in his eyes was gone, now replaced with chilling emptiness. I took the liberty of pulling his leather boots off his feet, and I removed his socks as well. Then, I draped the comforter over his long body.

“Stay with me,” Shawn mumbled, his arm reaching out to me. “Let’s forget all the bad shit…”

It seems that no amount of alcohol could make him not think about the last couple of weeks. My heart began to ache all over again.

“Go to sleep, okay?” I said gently. “I’ll be with you when you go to sleep.”

Shawn whined. “You always die in my sleep. I love you too much to let you go.”

I had a feeling that that’s what he had been dreaming about. But I really could not get myself to lie down with him. I was too antsy from the vomiting.

“Wait for me, okay?” I told him, stroking his hair. “I’m only gonna be a few minutes, and I’ll come back.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

He’s drunk. He’s going to sleep no matter what.

Once Shawn was all tucked into bed, I left the room and quietly shut the door behind me. In the living room, Teddy was picking up plastic cups and shoving them into a giant trash bag. I really wasn’t expecting her to still be here. Wordlessly, I began helping her clean up. Anything to get my beating heart to slow down.

“What were you doing this whole time if you weren’t sleeping?” she asked me. “Was the music too loud?”

“No. It wasn’t anything from the party,” I replied, scooping up paper plates and used napkins. “Just had a long day. I wasn’t in the mood for a party.”

“Oh.”

She glanced at me a couple of times as she dumped more trash into the bag. This was supposed to be the part where I bare my soul to my boyfriend’s friend and make her my friend, but… Enough of my business was out there already.

Teddy, however, was persistent. “So, how come you didn’t want visitors at the hospital? Or when you got out, for that matter?”

I busied myself with fixing the sofa cushions so I could come up with a decent answer. “Uh, I like my privacy. Especially in moments where things are messy.”

“Hm. Well, aren’t messy moments the times when you need friends the most?”

That thought lingered in the air as we continued tidying up the living room. I could have had my video game club friends there, or Shawn’s friends, but instead I left most of the burden to Shawn himself. What kind of a person am I?

At last, Teddy got the last of the garbage in the bag, and she tied it shut. Then, we moved onto the kitchen. More cups, spilled booze, and the broken glass from earlier. Oh, how I did not miss house parties. I was at the prime age of partying, being 21. I should have been the type to be as drunk as my boyfriend was, to just have fun and forget the stresses of life. But I found myself on a completely different level than the people who were here tonight.

“Do you stay up late often?” Teddy asked, trying to fill the silence yet again.

We both paused as the sounds of loud, monotonous humming came from the bedroom. Teddy scrunched her brow and tilted her head. My shoulders tensed with chills, like ice cold water had been spilled down the back of my shirt.

“To answer your question,” I told her, “yes.”

She followed me to the room, but she stayed at the doorway while I went to Shawn’s quivering body.

“Baby, wake up,” I said urgently, shaking his arm. “Wake up, it’s only a dream, baby…”

He was on his back, head moving from side to side in harsh moments. He groaned, completely spastic, so I coaxed him some more.

My voice shook. “Shawn… please. I’m here, please-”

His eyes flew open with a loud gasp. He sat up, breathing hard and fast. I placed my hands on his broad shoulders, getting his attention.

“Hey, look at me. You’re okay, it’s okay. You’re safe.”

Brown eyes were wide with panic, and then sadness. Within a second, they were filling with tears, and Shawn was wrapping his arms around my waist. With a shaky sob, he buried his head in my neck and cried quietly.

I had a pained looked on my face while he wasn’t looking. I just held him and stroked his hair. I was whispering the things I always said when he was in this state. “You’re safe with me. It was just a dream, it’s not real.”

I was able to coax him back to sleep for the time being. It was only going to happen again, though. I didn’t know how to stop it from happening.

When I stepped out of the room again, I leaned against the wall by the doorway. Teddy was gone, probably fled the uncomfortable situation. Can’t say I blame her. I sighed heavily and brought the palms of my hands to my misty eyes. I was beyond exhausted now. I was at a loss.

A hand went on my shoulder all of a sudden, making me jump. I looked up, finding that Teddy was still here, glass of water in her hand. Her blue eyes were concerned and upset, like the world had just ended in front of her. I pushed past the feelings, though.

“Sorry, I didn’t know you were still here,” I said, my voice thick with emotion. “Uh, did you need a ride home?”

She shook her head and held up the glass. “My fiance is coming soon. Here, drink.”

I offered a weak smile and accepted the gesture. As I sipped, Teddy said something that threw me off.

“He told me he was handling his nightmares. Had it all taken care of.”

“Why would he say that?” I asked in return.

“Didn’t want anyone to worry, I’m guessing. But I can see how tired he is. I can see how shaken up he is. I mean, he never goes as hard as he did tonight with the liquor. And worst of all, he hasn’t written a song in weeks. He hasn’t been in the studio at all.”

And it was my own damn fault.

“Does he tell you what he dreams about?” I dared to ask.

“No,” Teddy said. “I don’t think he tells anybody. I think he needs something beyond our help.”

“You’re right. I need to talk to him about this, because I know he’s not gonna talk to me.”

She placed her both her hands on my shoulders. “Hey. I’ve seen Shawn with quite a few girls over the last couple of years. I’ve never seen him head over heels until you came along. He loves you so much, he can’t fathom the idea of losing you. He loves you so much that he won’t talk to you about this because he doesn’t want you to feel bad.”

I wasn’t sure if that was supposed to make me feel better, because I was barely coherent as I spoke. “I already do…”

~

For once, I was up and running before Shawn was. His last nightmare happened around six in the morning, and after that he slept normally. The hangover probably had something to do with that. I left him a glass of water and painkillers on the nightstand, and then I went to the kitchen to attempt a type of breakfast.

By the time had eggs scrambled on a plate, Shawn was stumbling out of the room, glass of water in hand. He rubbed his eyes and yawned, and then he ran his fingers through his curly hair. He was still in the navy blue t-shirt he wore last night, but he ditched his jeans and went for the underwear look.

I met him halfway from the kitchen, presenting him with his mediocre breakfast. “Morning, sunshine.”

“For me?” he asked, and I nodded. “You’re the best.”

He sat at the round glass dining table as opposed to going to the living room. He must have been really hungover. I sat next to him and basked in the silence as he ate. My hands were tingling from the nerves.

“How ya feelin’?” I asked in a stupidly gently voice, reaching over to rub his arm.

He hummed through a mouthful of eggs. When he swallowed, he spoke. “My head is pounding. But I took the pills you left for me. Thank you for that, by the way. Who cleaned the apartment?”

“Me and Teddy. After you knocked out, we just decided to tidy up so no one had to worry about it the next day.”

“Well, thank you. One less thing to worry about.” He ate in silence some more, and then spoke some words that truly had me puzzled. “I slept the whole night for once. Feels good.”

Must be nice to not remember your night terrors. However, I had to tell him.

“Shawn…” I said slowly. “You woke up like five times. You had a panic attack one of those times.”

He slowed his chewing, staring at the table top in thought. He stayed quiet, and it freaked me out. He practically shut down, and it scared me for multiple reasons.

“I don’t know how to help you,” I admitted, watching him carefully.

“It’ll wear off,” he said weakly.

“You don’t know that.” I had to be firm. “I don’t know what you’re seeing in your sleep, but I know it scares you so much that you won’t talk about it. And you talk about everything, so that’s how I know it’s bad.”

Shawn looked down, still silent. Not giving me a possible solution to this. Does he even want help? Or am I just exaggerating and losing my mind?

“You don’t have to talk to me about it,” I continued. “Just talk to somebody. Last night, Teddy told me that you were taking care of all of this, but you’re not. I don’t know how you’re functioning during the day, because I’ve been exhausted and sleep deprived. I know you are too, and I’m not the only one who sees it. I, I don’t know how much longer I can watch you go through this.”

Again, he was quiet. He was never quiet. Shawn was feisty and passionate, ready to say anything to prove his point at any given moment. He had strayed from the Shawn Mendes I loved in such a short amount of time. It was happening so fast, watching him slip through my fingers. It felt like I was the one in a nightmare.

“Please,” I mumbled, my voice quavering. My bottom lip began to quiver.

Shawn suddenly looked up at me, eyes wide at the sounds coming out of me. Even when he was sinking, he still paid more attention when I was about to cry.

“I’ll, I’ll give you my therapist’s number,” I offered, losing my composure. “I-I don’t know if she’s taking anymore clients, but I-I-I’ll give up my sessions for you. I’ll do anything if it means you’ll get some help. Shawn, I… I’m begging you. I’m begging you to get help, because I don’t know what to do anymore… a-and it’s because of me why you’re like this, a-a-and I’m sorry-”

I gasped when I realized Shawn had placed his hands on either side of my face. His thumbs rubbed my tear stricken cheeks, and he spoke calmly and gently.

“Okay,” he said. “Okay, I’ll get help. I promise. I don’t wanna go through this anymore either. I promise I’ll figure this out.”

I guess that’s how I knew I was falling in love. The want and need for him to be okay was so great, there was nothing I wouldn’t do to make that happen. The fact that he was not okay was ripping me a new one. I couldn’t even breathe when he slept. I couldn’t even think about how much I wanted to be in California, because then I’d have to think about leaving Shawn all alone. Who would talk him down from his night terrors?

My hospital stay alone triggered nightmares and eerie silence from him. But what would Shawn have done if I had died altogether?

[rashiira]

[Cut for Personal/Medical stuff.]

2019 has really been shit. There’s a lot I haven’t said here and still may not, but I’m going to at least cover a couple of bases of things that have had me in almost constant stress for awhile. First of all, in July, my mother was diagnosed with Colon cancer. It came completely out of nowhere. They found it during a colonoscopy, as apparently, Colon cancer doesn’t have symptoms. So it’s lucky that they found it. But it was a huge blow to my mother. It was hard to see her during that time, looking defeated when she’s usually one of the positive driving forces in this household. Several times, she wanted to just cancel any and all treatment, insisting she ‘felt’ fine, but eventually with a bit of pushing from my father and I and the doctors, she gave in and decided to get the large tumor removed through surgery. That took place two weeks ago. They were gone for about a week and a half and I spent most of that time by the phone waiting for news and information.  I’m ecstatic to say that it not only went well and my mother is on the mend, but they determined that her cancer is very likely gone. The operation removed an entire foot of her large intestine so they could collect all the polyps around it too, just to be sure, and her appendix went, as well. But they determined that her cancer, though it had pretty large growth, did not breach the walls of her intestine and therefore she did not need chemo or radiation treatment (which is good, because she flat-out refused to do it anyway). She’s in her 6-8 week recovery period now. Dad and I take care of her and make sure that she’s following her recovery steps. I know it’s frustrating for her, because she feels good and she wants to do all the things, but she’s taking things slowly and I’m proud of her. She’s been through a lot. She made it through. And it was a trying time for the family, but in the end, the results could not have been better. Things very well might have been catastrophic or too late if the cancer wasn’t discovered, but that wasn’t the case. She got treatment. She’s (hopefully) cured. Fast forward to yesterday. I'm back from out-patient surgery in the ER yesterday afternoon. What I thought was a sore throat and swelling (first started about 4 days ago) that I went to the local walk-in clinic to get checked out early yesterday morning turned out to be something called Acute Peritonsillar Abscess and it was taking over my throat/airway. They referred me to the ER about 30 mins away and I nearly had a break-down in their office, as it was not something I expected to hear when I went in. I had a CT scan for the first time in my life. An IV for the first time in my life. And then went through what was probably the singular most painful thing I've ever endured. When numbing solutions don't work because you have too many nerves in the back of your mouth and they try four times with different solutions to numb it without success? And they hold your head down when they come in with the needles? You're going to have a bad time. I was not at all prepared for what happened, but I'm thankful it was taken care of before the swelling got any bigger. I'm really grateful for the support I had from friends and the extra push not to let it go 'another day'. I will be recovering for a few days. Throat is still sore and doesn’t like solid foods. But I went to my follow-up today and the doctor said the swelling has gone down and she’s very pleased. She doesn’t think I’ll need to come back unless something worrisome happens and I just need to finish my 14-day antibiotic treatment. And on the bright side? They said that popsicles and ice cream are probably literally the best thing for me right now. So I get to enjoy some soft treats to numb the throat pain. Furthermore, as of this morning, I was approved for medical insurance. At last. I’ll be the owner of an official Medicaid card in 3 weeks and they will cover all of the surgery costs and even allow me to get reimbursement on my prescriptions. The lady who talked to me about it literally came to the operating room in the ER where I was and got my info and stuff right there. It was laughably easy compared to the hoops I was jumping through to get insurance up to this point. And then she called me back today, just a day after, saying I was approved and all set. I’m extremely happy for this. All in all, though 2019 really has been a kick in the face and elsewhere numerous times, there are some good things to come out of them, too, and I won’t forget that. I know most people are not here for personal stuff about me or my family, but I wanted to share this with those who do want to know what’s been happening and the friends I have here. I know I don’t share too much on tumblr (because I fled after the n s f w ban), but I’ve been in such a stressed state over it all this year that it was hard to get my feet on the ground and really share much until things were over and done with. Thanks for reading/listening! And I hope 2019 has been better to you folks. If it hasn’t, let’s all keep our heads up for and concentrate on the good stuff, if we can. It’s not easy. But we can try.

[kim-isnt-seaweed]

^^those photos are all taken by me. Use them ig you want but please credit me.

Hello people!

How was your week? I had a fairly good week, it was hectic and tiring but it was good until i caught a cold.

Monday: Monday since i didnt have to work i stayed home laminating my interactive material and when T came home from work we went to Emart. He bought me a really cute watch since i needed it for classes since i didnt want to keep checning my phone, he wanted to buy a smart watch for both of us (hahaha i sound like we can just buy those things whenever we want but no, we save up for those type of things) but i dont want one because i geniuenly dont have a need for one, anyway we bought stuff at emart and came home. I thought at the time i had avoided the cold i thought i caught on Sunday.

Tuesday: went to work, every tuesday staff reuinion at the center and then i went to my first class the 27 m/o baby, he is really cute and you can notice he is somewhat understanding what i am teaching him but he cant speak yet so its tough to tell for sure. The second class was new kid i was added and he is the type of kids that ..are difficult, the mother had forgotten the class was on tuesdays at 6:30 and my boss forgot to call her to confirm (usually teachers do that but she said since im a forgeiner she would do it) besides they gave me the families old address thankfully the new house was a street away. The boy was not having it, he did not want to have class and he was just doing whatever the fuck he wanted, most of my students are young so its normal for them to get distracted but you can tell the difference when they get natrually distracted because they include me in their distraction for examole the baby boy keeps trying to gwt mw to play ball with him, or anotherone that just telling me about pokemon but this boy did not give a fuck about me or the class he was just difficult but i was like whatever i will go through if the class and maybe its just because he's tired, so who knows but when i was going his mom gave him an orange and he just threw it on the floor and smeared it with his foot as if it was funny and his mom said nothing so ..he still seems a bit difficult.

Wednesday: t was at home for the morning but had to go to work that night so i decided to make lunch for both of us: carne asada, refired beans a co-worker who grew up in Guatemala gave me and cilantro rice i made with the left over cilantro the Pho place gave me. I went to work at 4, and when i got to my students house i noticed he had a cold and i immediately was like "uh-oh" you know how kids are (he is 3) they dont cover their nose, whipe their nose with their hands and then touch you and your stuff. After class i came home and later that night my throat started feeling weird.

Side note: my mom would always make soup and salad everyday for lunch and dinner (same thing for both meals as is common in Colombia) and without fail they had cilantro ALWAYS! So i grew up eating cilantro, but it wasnt until i moved to Korea and the first time eating mexican food with T he was like "oh no the taste of cilantro is too strong i cant eat this" and i was like "Cilantro has a taste????" Like i grew up eating that in soups and stuff, never on its own so i never recognized the taste, let alone believe it was strong, i just thought it was a must for food like salt or whattever, the only other thing i new of cilantro was that it makes you sleepy, so if there was too much on our food it was like "mom is trying to make us chill" idk if its true or its just placeboo at this point since i grew up hearing it thus believing it. So yeah, i didnt know cilantro had a taste of its own until i moved to Korea, thankfully T has learned to like it but he judges me when i add a bit too much.

Thursday: my throat was even more irritated that morning but i felt fine in general, t had the day off so i made lunch again: arroz con pollo. I went to work, T took me to my classes on his new scooter motorcycle and while he waited he went shopping. My second student on thrusdays is a bitbhard because he is all over the place distracted and skipping all the steps but its okay because at least he looks excited for the class. Then i had my last class and went out to eat dinmer with T, by this time my throat was in so much pain it hurt to talk but the rest of me felt fine, we went to Kondae to eat Makchang (i think its the large intestine of the pork) and then i bought a leather jacket more like i bought a fake leather jacket because T has been dying to see me in a leather jacket (boy shoulda seen me at 16) idk why so now he can finally stop talking about it.

Friday: my throat felt better so i thought i had avoided getting a cold, i went to the center to pick up my class materials for next week and for the new student on fridays my boss had only told me about the night before. I went back home and since T again had the day free we went to the bank to open a family account, then he took me to my class, i was nervous because i had been told the kids mom is scary but when i arrived there (a bit late since i had forgotten something and had to go back to the center) they were so nice, their appartment is amazing, its huge and has a beautiful view people say celebreties live in those buildings too which explains the amount of security in the complex which is odd for most korean apartments. The mom was so nice, the dad too and their little boy is wonderful too so idk what they wete talking about tbh. When class finished we came back home, took all my pants (all except one i recently bought) a skirt and a dress to the seamstress because they were too big on me now and the lady was like "why are they so big??" "Its hard for you to find clothes the fit well, right? (it is) since you have a butt (i dont i just store most of my fat in my thighs and hips but not the butt) but your waist is so small" then when she got to the dress she seemed troubled because it was more work than what it seemedm we paid 90 bucks which is apparently expensive? Idk how since she has to do a lot of work on my clothes, 7 items and 2 items for T. Then we came home and i started to feel sick again, when bed time came i was completely sick.

Today: sleeping was terrible, i kept choking in my sleep because i have a stuffy nose and a very swollen throat. T woke up at all hours trying to help me feel better, giving me wster and medicine, i felt so bad since he had to wake up early but there he was taking care of me at like 4 am. When he woke up for work all i remember is him telling our cat "Bean, mom is sick be nice to her today and take care of here" aside from that being cute on its own i actually think she listend to him, although bean is very sweet she has moments when she likes to bully me, trip me ovet, bite my legs or scratch my hands (only me she never does that to T even if he was the one annoying her she takes it out on me) but today she has been so sweet and calm, no yelling or demanding snacks, no bullying just love.

At one my MIL took me to the doctors, they somehow always mention the fact i got surgery on my nose for allergy reasons and say something i cant fully understand and no one can translate for me but i am starting to feel the surgery was a waist of money, my allergies are back (not as bad as before but their back) and everytime i get a cold it fucks me up so hard. Then when comming home my MIL bought me so much pastries and bread because i didnt want lunch or let her pay for my medicine.

Sometimes i look at T and feel so lucky i have a husband that is so sweet, selfless and careing but then i see his parents and im like yep that makes sense. His parents have always been so sweet and understanding, the accepted me for me get go and have always treated me like a daughter, sometimes i tease T telling him his dad loves me more than than him haha his parents helped pay for my surgery back when we had only been dating for a year (my parents couldnt afford it i mean back at home they could but Korean money is much more expensive than Colombian money) and now everytime i mention trying to pay them back they wont have it.

I also noticed i have three big bruises on my legs i have no idea where they came from. Its annoying because everytime i hurt myself and say "oh this is gonna leave a bruise" there is no bruise to be found, but then these bruises appear and its like for you to be so big and persistent shouldnt i remember what your from???

Tomorrow: T and i finally both have the same free day, but this fucking cold will probably ruin it all so who knows.

Anyways that was my week, i hope you all had a good week too!

[caroline-min-max]

Two Timer

Caroline and the twins are in Arkham. An individual the three know all too well is also there and seems to have made serious progress in rehabilitation.

Supposedly it was a lovely day outside. Clear blue sky, warm weather, and some light breezes. It sounded like it would be a shame to waste it by staying indoors.

Caroline had no choice.

Good old Arkham Asylum again. Trapped inside until she could figure a way out or make an honest effort at rehabilitation (ha!). It was her home away from home that she hated to get accustomed to. She yearned to be free, away from the cramped cells and unwanted company of her fellow inmates.

Bunnies needed plenty of room and mental stimulation to stay happy and healthy. The staff should know this by now. Normally a hobby that she loved, Caroline was glumly putting together a puzzle during the time she was allowed outside of her cell. Thanks to her last escape she likely wouldn’t be allowed outdoors for a very long time.

At least they got her a new puzzle... This one should hopefully have all of the pieces. She sighed as she combed through the pieces in the box, pulling out the frame ones to put together first and setting them on the small table she was seated at. No matter the puzzle her approach was always the same.

“Hm?!” Caroline was startled by the sound of chair being placed in front of the table. She looked up, even more surprised by who was joining her. “Mr. Dent!” she exclaimed. 

“Caroline,” Two Face replied with a nod. He knew that the two empty chairs that resided close to Caroline were being saved for two particular individuals.

A delighted smile spread across Caroline’s face. Two Face had been calling her by her first name regularly these days, an event that used to be quite rare. Thanks to his therapy sessions it seemed that the “Harvey Dent” side of Two Face was winning the battle between his split personalities. 

She could feel it in his presence as well. His body language wasn’t so stiff, he hadn’t crossed his arms, and his eyes seemed softer as he looked at her. He was almost the man that she’d met all those years ago when he tried to put a case together for those responsible for turning her into a rabbit.

“I don’t suppose you want to help me put this together?” Caroline asked as she set the box on the table. She was only kidding, her relaxed ears popping up in surprise when Two Face grabbed a pile of pieces to root through, noticing what she was doing. “You’re in a good mood,” she said happily with a smile.

“Grace is coming to visit me today,” Two Face answered as he placed two frame pieces he found in the middle of the table. Once he’d decided to stay in Arkham to truly take steps to push back his ‘Big Bad Harvey’ personality her visits with Bruce Wayne had become weekly. “They think that I’ve made enough progress in therapy to have surgery.”

To get rid of the Two Face personality? Caroline wanted to ask. She knew that the Two Face side of him had sabotaged a surgery attempt before and she didn’t want any careless words to upset him. 

“For...?” Instead Caroline pointed at the side of her face that corresponded with Two Face’s “bad” side.

Two Face looked over at her, nodding when he realized what she was asking. 

“I’m really happy for you,” Caroline said genuinely. It had been years now since the accident that made him like this. It had to be hell for him... She couldn’t even imagine what it was like to have two personalities fighting for control of one body. 

Harvey Dent had done so much harm as Two Face Caroline wondered if he’d even be accepted back into normal society, if people could understand it wasn’t really him who committed all those atrocities. It was lucky that Grace and Bruce Wayne had stuck by him; otherwise Caroline wasn’t sure if he’d be able to get through all this alone.

“You should make use of your therapy sessions,” Two Face remarked. 

Caroline sighed. “I thought those were supposed to be confidential.”

“You have to actually say something in confidence first.”

Typical... Those sneaks were trying to use Two Face to make her spill her guts, huh? They sure liked to keep track and monitor the relationship the Gotham Rouges had with one another. 

“This seems a little odd coming from the man who largely made me who I am today,” Caroline replied with a small snicker. Her smirk faded when she saw the guilt that washed over Two Face’s features.

“I wasn’t the one who did that, Caroline,” Two Face replied.

“I suppose not...” Caroline acknowledged. The voice that was coming out of the man seated in front of her wasn’t the gruff, gravelly one she’d grown so used to. It was softer in tone and had a hint of warmth to it. 

...Maybe she was going to miss Two Face when all was said and done. She sadly realized he’d been a part of her life even longer than Harvey Dent was.

“So let me give you give you some better advice now.” Part of reforming for Two Face was while he understood his violent personality wasn’t who he really was he still had to take responsibility for those actions. Trying to set Caroline on the right path was his way of trying to make amends with one of his biggest mistakes. “Start opening up in therapy. Tell them what happened to you. Let them help you let go of all that anger and live a normal life while you wait for them to find a way to fix you.” 

“I haven’t gotten my revenge yet and I don’t need to be ‘fixed’!” Caroline snapped, scowling. “YOU had a good life before your accident. I was getting my ass pinched at a scummy nightclub for their pocket change and then, after this happened,” she said as she grabbed one of her ears for a moment for emphasis. “Just as I thought things were looking up I found out I couldn’t even be a veterinarian because apparently how I smell freaks out most animals now. I have no reason to start trying to be a good girl again.”

“You’re going to get yourself killed.” It was a miracle that she hadn’t been already. Despite her small size she was bold and reckless; it was bound to get her into serious trouble someday. “Is it because of those idiots?” Caroline seemed to call the shots in their relationship but he worried if Min and Max pressured her committing crime sprees. He’d come to know them as the money hungry duo too stupid to pull off any major thefts on their own.

“No, and please don’t call them that,” Caroline answered sharply. 

“If they cared about you they’d get jobs and let you stay at home.” If Caroline didn’t want to work there was no reason why the twins couldn’t support her. Maybe they even had enough cashed stashed away where it wouldn’t be an issue.

“I suppose I’ll sound just as delusional as Harley but they care about me more than you’ll ever know. We’ve been through so much together and, if I did want to go straight, they’d go along with it. We’re good as we are, Mr. Dent. Focus on your own recovery and leave me be. I appreciate what you did for me but I don’t need your guidance anymore.” 

Caroline turned her attention to over Two Face’s shoulder when she notice two more familiar faces, completely identical to each other, approaching the table. They were hesitant to do so, walking slowly and stopping when they were right behind Two Face. They looked to Caroline for guidance on what to do. They’d noticed she seemed to be having a rather serious conversation with him.

“Have a seat, boys,” Caroline welcomed. 

Min and Max continued towards the chairs Caroline saved for them. They pulled them back to sit down on, each taking a turn at giving her a quick kiss once they had. They’d missed their rabbit just as much as she’d missed them.

Two Face shifted uncomfortably in his seat at the sight. Caroline could do so much better than his former lackeys. It was yet another thing he blamed himself for since he caused Caroline to meet the twins. 

“Are we interrupting?” Max asked.

Caroline shook her head. “Dad was just lecturing me.”

“How old do you think I am?!” Two Face asked as he thumped his fist on the table, making the laid out puzzle pieces bounce slightly.

“Oh... I don’t know...” Caroline pretended to think about it. “Fifty? Fifty-five?” she teased with a grin.

“You little brat...” Two Face replied before chuckling. If Caroline ever did start down the right path again he hoped that the confidence she’d gained as the White Rabbit would stick with her. She’d never have had the guts to joke with him like this before. 

Min and Max glanced across Caroline at one another. What was going on here? Two Face was... Laughing? And smiling? They’d never seen their former boss like this. It was true that his friendship with Caroline had been completely mended for awhile now but he’d never behaved like this when they’d talked in Arkham. 

One of the guards approached their table. 

“There’s visitors for you, Harvey,” he said.

“Tell Grace I say ‘Hi’,” Caroline said as Two Face started to stand.

“Why don’t you tell her yourself?” Two Face offered. Grace hadn’t seen Caroline in all these years. Maybe having their connection rekindled would help in the younger woman seeing things his way.

Caroline’s ears fell as she smiled sadly. “I don’t think that would be fair to her.” She’d never say it to anyone but she was shocked that Grace had hung in there for all these years. Dealing with all of Two Face’s relapses couldn’t be easy and the last thing she wanted was to stress Grace out even more by showing her what she’d become. “I really do hope that you’re well on your way to stop meeting me like this.” She extended her hand, which Two Face reached forward and grasped in his.

Two Face looked deep into Caroline’s eyes and saw the fierceness of a woman who wasn’t done fighting. All the kindness, gentleness, and fear she had when she was younger was nowhere to be found.  While his Harvey Dent personality wavered in and out the Caroline White he’d initially met seemed to be completely gone.

“Goodbye, Caroline...” Two Face said rather sadly.

“See you around, Mr. Dent,” Caroline replied, a little confused as to why his words sounded so final. She let go of his hand.

The trio silently watched Two Face be escorted away by the guard.

“What’s with Two Face?” Min asked, bewildered. 

Caroline took a moment to respond, mulling over exactly what she wanted to say. “He’s finally getting his personalities sorted out,” she answered. “It’s good for him but it’s why I’ve warned the two of you not to say a word to the shrinks when they force us to meet with them. They WILL get inside our heads and start to influence how we think. We’re fine as we are.”

“Sure, Caroline!” Max replied.

“We don’t tell them nothin’!” Min assured.

Caroline was glad to hear it. She’d been worried about the sorts of doubts and ideas the therapists here would try to instill in the twins. She especially hated how they liked to use their relationship with her as a weakness. 

There hadn’t been any therapy appointments for awhile, not since Caroline decided to mess with them and use the plots to books she’d read to lie about her life. She’d been found out and the profiles the psychiatrists had painstakingly put together were all thrown out.

“Well then...” With that sorted out Caroline felt it would be ideal to change the subject. “Did you boys go outside at all? I hate that I’m grounded; I heard that it’s nice out.”

“There’s a storm that’s starting to roll in,” Min replied.

Caroline seemed happy to hear that. “No loss, then! Have you two heard anything interesting while cooped up?”

The three continued to chitchat as the twins started to help Caroline with her puzzle. It was what they usually wound up doing, enjoying the time they were able to see and touch one another before it would be back to their cells again.

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

Boredom taking hold of her in her cell, Caroline was dozing. She’d been laying on her back, gazing up at the ceiling on her bed, once again wishing she could be at home. Still without a solid plan to escape her eyelids had begun to droop. Just as sleep was hitting her she was startled by the sound of her cell opening.

Caroline shot upright, shocked to see Min and Max standing in front of her cell. Max had a key card in his hand and his eyes on her while Min was watching their backs for any guards with a gun in his hand. Seeing what was going on, the other female inmates were begging to be let out as well but the twins felt they had no time to help them. 

Before her cell had completely opened Caroline ducked under the rising door.

“How did you two-” Caroline began, being cut off by the sound of an escape alarm going off. She winced from how loud it was.

“Later!” Min answered as he started running forwards, urging her to follow him and Max.

Caroline should have known better there wasn’t time to dawdle. She’d just been so surprised that the twins had managed to bust her out of her cell seemingly through their own volition rather than something she’d thought up.

As she followed them she became more and more puzzled as to how they’d pulled this off. As they ran past the hallway that led down to the men’s ward she noticed some incapacitated staff members on the floor starting to be tended to by other Arkham employees. This sort of destruction and havoc didn’t seem like something Min and Max could do by themselves.

They dashed out an emergency exit door that had already been busted open. There it started to make sense to Caroline when she saw Two Face in the process of hot wiring a car he’d broken into but led into another puzzlement. 

“Mr. Dent, what are you doing?!” Caroline exclaimed as she ran up to the driver’s side just as he got the engine started. “I thought that you were going to-”

“SHUT UP AND GET IN THE CAR, WHITE!” Two Face thundered, some of his spittle hitting Caroline’s face.

“B-but...” Caroline stammered as she stepped back in alarm. What had happened to the man she’d recently shared such friendly moment with?

The twins needed to gently guide Caroline into the back seat with them; she was frozen in place from how scary and furious Two Face looked. It was a wonder that he’d even sprung Min and Max when he was in such a state.

Min had barely shut the door when Two Face floored it, a sharp turn making his passengers slam into one another as they were thrown to the left side of the vehicle.

“Are you you alright, Caroline?” Max asked as he quickly scooted back.

“Yeah...” she answered as the three of them quickly buckled their seat belts to avoid that happening again, Two Face showing no signs of slowing down. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d been smooshed in-between the twins but it was never so forcefully. “Mr. Dent, why are you breaking out?!” she tried again.

“It’s like you said, White...” Two Face replied gruffly, keeping his eyes on the road as they cleared the Arkham grounds, foot still glued to the accelerator. “I have to get my revenge and I don’t need to be fixed!”

“Wh...” Caroline’s brow furrowed in confusion. Did something happen? Or was this... Was this her fault? “Is this because of Rupert Thorne?” she guessed.

“They thought they could trick me and stab me in the back! I’ll show them!” Two Face was talking more to himself than to Caroline, fixated on how he was going to get back at his former best friend. 

Although she was still in the dark Caroline wasn’t going to let Two Face throw away all the progress he made. Maybe it wasn’t too late. She unbuckled her seat belt and lunged forward, grabbing at the steering wheeling.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!” Two Face shouted in alarm.

“Stop the car!” Caroline begged. She wanted to swerve the car into a ditch but couldn’t budge the wheel at all. Two Face was much stronger than her. “Please!” she said desperately. 

Two Face roughly elbowed Caroline in the face, making her yelp and recoil back into her seat. “Keep her back there or I’ll throw all three of you out!” he shouted back at the twins.

The twins said nothing, looking over Caroline’s face instead to see if there were any visible injuries. Two Face struck her cheek which would likely wind up swollen and bruised later but it could have been worse. Their former boss was back to how they remembered him.

“Min,” Caroline whispered. “Your gun...” If Two Face wasn’t going to listen maybe she could make him stop by force.

“No way!” Min whispered back. “He has one too.”

“He already hit you, Caroline,” Max replied, re-buckling Caroline’s seat belt for her to keep her somewhat restrained. 

Both Min and Max were furious that Caroline had been injured but being inside a speeding car wasn’t exactly the best of settings to fight back in. They felt it was best to comply with Two Face this time for their own well being and to avoid Caroline being hurt anymore.

Once they were back in Gotham Two Face stopped the car in an area he thought would safe for three recently escaped Arkham patients. No was around and he remembered the White Rabbit had a hideout around here. He ordered the three of them out of the car and took off again immediately.

“What happened?!” Caroline quickly asked, grabbing on to Min and Max’s sleeves.

“We don’t know!” Min answered. “He attacked the guards, grabbed his gun, and a key card. My cell was right next to his so he let me out and gave me card. All he said was ‘Get White and your brother fast; I won’t wait for you’.”

“You don’t have any idea where he’s going?”

The twins shook their heads.

Caroline turned to look in the direction that Two Face had driven off in, shoulders slumped and ears flat. “Then... I guess all we can do is be glad he decided to spring us too. Poor Mr. Dent... I wish I knew why...” It couldn’t have all been because of her, right? She’d made it clear their circumstances were different. She had encouraged him to return to his own life.

The twins placed comforting hands on Caroline’s shoulders.

“Lets go home, Caroline,” Max said gently. “We should get ice on your cheek.”

“Yeah...” Caroline reluctantly agreed. That’s all they could do for now. Maybe later they could find some of the men Two Face liked to recruit and see if they knew anything at all. 

Regardless, it was another failed attempt. Caroline felt in her heart it was likely Two Face’s final chance after all these years. If he could come that close just for his other personality to win again all hope seemed lost.

[oursensoryworld]

The Introduction

Hello Tumblr 

My name is Jessica 

I am 32 also a single mum with a beautiful 4 year old son. Ok so just a warning my grammar is horrible so please be kind. lol I always wanted to write a blog but never had the confidence to do so. Except for today.. When I thought to myself stuff it!! Maybe someone wants to listen to me talk crap, or is going through simular things. Needless to say I need an outlet. OK!

For the point of this introduction, I will start with when my son was 9 months old, and what happened after that.

We all lived in a beautiful little beach town. It was truly paradise! I would ride my bike to work some days, and think to myself how did I get so lucky.

Now you are probably thinking why would you leave then? 

I moved back to my parents house after getting home from work one night, and my sons father was drunk again. When I got home He was hostile and dangerous. I tried to kick him out to sober up, but he told me that it was his house and I had not right.

I couldn't take one more second. Called my dad to get my car and I was on the first flight out with my son.  

At first It was a welcome move. I was so happy to have the support that I needed. I had been working 40 hours per week plus the house and baby care. My son would wake at least 7 times per night.

Oh dear lord it was horrible. Did I mention the constant crying unless he was being held!

sounds like most babies right? that's what I thought, just normal motherhood not to worry. Just suck it up I would tell myself. 

Through the heartbreak of leaving my sons father, I slowly picked up the pieces of my heart, and tried to glue it back together. Many nights of wine, and crying were had by me. its kind of funny now when I look back on it. 

At the time though WOW!! What a mess I was. 

Little did I know the other struggles, that I would soon be faced with, would test me much more than a little break up ever could. 

Still took me 3 years to move on from loving my sons dad though.  

So here I am ready to begin again. I found a lovely family day care  for my son to attend while I went out to look for work. Everything seemed fine for awhile, just normal motherhood dramas.

My son was 22months when I got the first phone call, that he has been hitting his head against the wall and the floor. Just banging it! 

I was told by his day care teacher that she was worried, as she had never seen a child do this before in all her years of caring for children. So my first reaction was have I done something wrong? 

Could it be a reaction to my stress causing my son to react this way? All the blaming myself thoughts came flooding in. I had no idea why he was doing this. 

Not to mention, that for some time he wasn't making eye contact, or responding to his name being called. 

This wasn't my biggest concern at the time, as he was only little. In my mind, I thought he is just a late bloomer.

As my first and only child, I didn't have any thing to compare it to. 

I thought he will just grow out of it, or it would just go away.

I took him to Many Drs for their opinions. Most said the same thing. “could be an ear infection, or sinus problem so don't worry too much” 

His day care teacher, and my mother sat me down and said “we think he has Autism”  My first response “What he is only 22 months old!  how can you know that he has autism when he is so young. I didn't believe them, or want to. So I ignored it and continued on. 

My son celebrated his first birthday, it was a happy day. it was 40 degrees that day, but we were prepared. There were 3 kids pools, and plenty of shaded areas. 

This is when I noticed little difference's in my sons behaviour and other children, of same age, or even younger. For instance the eye contact. The way they would look engaged with their parent. The way they played with other children, and not alone.

Its really had to describe, and probably a poor choice of word but, a maturity difference is the way I would describe it. 

As he grew, he became very violent towards me, and other children. Always biting, hitting and throwing toys across the room was a daily occurrence. It became difficult for him to stay in family day care, for the safety of the other children. 

It was insane, I tried to talk to him, I took advice from what felt like a million people. Drs, parents, helplines, support groups you name it, I tried it. 

I would say to my friends, How could a child that gets so much love be so aggressive? I was googling one day as you do, and I came across a well known clinic that specialises in children with Autism. 

I took him to the Dr again! This time feeling confused and hopeless. =(  At home I would cop at least 50 punches, and several bites all over my body everyday. So it was go time!! 

I got the referral, and we went to the Clinic.My son walked in and was on his best behaviour of course. lol 

She sat and played some games with him, the whole process went for about an hour. She then sat down and talked to me.

The first thing she said, still to this day sticks in my mind. She said “when I first met your son, he seemed to be fine for his age. As the games went on, I noticed lots of things that are very concerning”

She then explained to me what her findings were. Have you ever noticed that when you are playing a game with him, when he runs into a bit of trouble, he will pull your hand to grab what he needs. Without words and no eye contact.

I replied sure. All the time.

She then told me many more things, that I will go into detail in other writings.  I was speechless.. 

Now I love my son the way he is, and have nothing against Autism. At the time though I was uneducated, and when the words fell from her lips,

 “ I believe your son has a significant Autism” 

My jaw hit the floor. I asked her what does that mean for him? then said, I thought that was normal. I thought a lot of the things he did were perfectly normal.

I use the word “normal” as just a word, not an indication that I think my son or any person on the spectrum isn't normal. Just thought I would put that out there, in case your reading this thinking (bitch please! who are you calling not normal) lol 

The feeling of not knowing what to do when you have just received that in her clinical opinion, and feeling so alone.

I got to the car and just cried. The main thought that ran through my head, was just worries for my darling son. Worrying will life be hard for him. What do I even do with this information. Who do I call for help? should I call for help? I racked my brain trying to figure out the answer.

I just felt like I was sort of going in circles. 

One of the major turning points for me was.

I was at the Drs one day, and my son had a massive meltdown. He bit my shoulder so hard he drew blood. The pain was so intense, it startled me so much that I dropped him. I still feel so bad about that!

I don't know what came over me. I started whaling and crying so much, in front of everyone. I curled myself up in the foetal position right in the middle of the surgery floor. As my son just walked around the surgery like nothing had happened. 

Now when I think of that tragically embarrassing moment, I just laugh. 

The receptionist came over to me, she was this little old lady. She wrapped her arms around me.

She gave me the biggest hug, and said “its ok darling, your doing a wonderful job”

That day I got the referral to my local hospital, to see the top childhood Dr

I was very relieved. I would get some answers! For a second opinion, and this lady is apparently the top Dr

We arrived at our local hospital. Now as you may have guessed, or have experience with.

My son is not one for public places and sitting still, he can usually sit still for a total of zero seconds. So when making an appointment its helpful if  the Dr is running on time. 

This was not the case! she was running 2 hours late!! 

I kept asking when is it our turn? I chased my son around the hospital at least 6 times. We got asked to wait in an outside locked space because he was screaming so loudly. it was a nightmare!! My anxiety was through the Roof..  

The looks I got from other patients, Its like I could hear their thoughts as the glared at me with their judging eyes and cats bum faces. 

All I could hear was, cant control your child, or what a little shit or such bad mother!

You name it! I heard it.. Without anyone of them saying a word. You know the expression a look can say a thousand words, or something like that. 

We finally!!!!! got called in, at this point he was over tired and so was I. 

The Dr was an older woman with short blond hair. She spoke with an almost regal tone to he voice. 

I thought this woman will have the answer for sure. She asked me a series of questions, and examined my son. I was truthfully scared to answer some of the questions, in fear of more judgment. 

In hindsight as a mother, we tend to blame ourselves for the silliest things. 

I have later learnt its called mothers guilt. Its a bastard of a thing. Anyway getting back to the Dr visit.

Sorry about that little tangent, I do that. 

She said to me have you ever heard of a disorder called ODD? I replied No.. What is ODD? She said it is an acronym for something called Oppositional Defiance Disorder. 

WHATTTT!!!!!! Now I was angry! I said to her, I came here for help! Not for you to give my son a made up diagnoses.

I then asked her, so how do I fix this ODD? She said there is no cure. What do you mean there is no cure? 

She suggested to a program called the PPP Parenting course. That will give you coping strategies, you can learn as a parent, thus in turn help you to control your boys ODD. um NO!  

If it was that easy why the hell do you think I'm here!!

Do Drs like you get off on this just giving a child that doesn't quite fit a made up label? Or telling parents that they need to do a parenting program! in order to fix a Neurological disorder.  WTF... lol 

I practically ran out the door, I couldn't believe the absolute BS I had just been fed. I was driving home shaking my head thinking the nerve of this woman. 

I will say this again, its so funny looking back on all of this, its  the kind of funny that you laugh and then cringe.  

I got home, got my son out of the car, as he is pulling my hair out of my head. =( 

So far I have your son has sever autism, and some made up Disorder. well at the time I thought that (speaking in past tense)

So what did I do? I will tell you.

I did what any normal parent does, ask Dr Google =) 

Slowly typing in the search bar (What is ODD?) As my finger presses down on the enter button, I am then bombarded with Youtube vids and pages and pages of ODD info.

At this moment I'm like WOW, ODD is really a thing. I feel dumb now. Awkward for me, But holy shit this doesn't look fun. No offence but ODD sucks! I mean that with much love to parents out there. Its in short , everything you say your child fights you. They are violent and just exactly what its called. 

I could keep talking and writing for days, but I will wrap it up now with a to be continued!   

 If you read this and this and this is where you are at in this moment. 

I want you to know you are not alone. I wont lie, the road is a long and tough one. if no one has told you your doing a good job. YOU ARE DOING A GOOD JOB. XX Part 2 will come shortly, let me know what you think? be kind lol

 Take care. From J 

#autism #sensorydisorders #ODD #singlemums #parentswithkidsonthespecturm #lifescurveballs #mystory #sensorykids 

[dansphlevels]

The Odyssey

Day 11 of 12 Days of Prompts

TW: bullying, homophobic slurs, language, drinking

Summary: High school au where Phil is bullied for being gay and Dan thinks he should have just stayed in the closet. But it just so happens Phil has a big family and can't get any studying done, and Dan’s house is the perfect place to study.

Length: 12k

Themes: highschool au, enemies to friends to lovers, bullying, boxer!dan, studious!phan, Homophobia, family/sibling drama

 "Stupid baby," Phil muttered under his breath. "Why can't they just move back again? I finished studying at one last night, and she didn't stop screaming until at least three." 

 "Stop whining," Greyson suggested, speed walking over to the fridge. "Naomi can stay as long as she wants, she's family. OJ?"  "Toss it." He did, and Phil caught it easily, his clumsiness forgotten when it came to food. "Family's overrated."  "Feel lucky. I tried for kids with Myrel for six years with no luck. Marrying your mother was the best thing I ever did. Five kids, just like that, and I didn't have to do anything!"  Phil grunted into his cereal. "Six, if you include the rodent."  "She's not a rodent, she's a baby. She's going to cry, you'd better get used to it."  "Who's going to cry?" Asked Tucker, hurrying into the kitchen and grabbing the cereal from the counter. "Amanda?"  "The rat," Phil explained.  "Amanda cries a lot too. I think her baby makes her sad."  "She's just tired," Greyson explained. "Hey, didn't you need a permission slip signed? Something for school?"  "Rocket museum field trip. I already turned it in."  Greyson leaned against the counter. "Really? Who signed it?"  "Mum did."  "That means he did," Phil explained to his bowl of cereal. He stared into it like it was trying to communicate with him, tell him the answers to his Calculus test or his problem with the baby. "He's getting good at faking signatures. You should see him do mine."  "Snitch. Greyson, would you like some eggs sir?"  "Yes please. But you're still grounded."  Tucker came up behind Phil and gave him a light smack on the back of the head.  "I need formula," Amanda declared, stepping into the already crowded kitchen. "Janie's crying again."  They all strained their ears to hear. Sure enough, the baby's wail sounded through the house from the upstairs, loud enough to hear but not loud enough to be bothersome. None of them had noticed yet; it had become a familiar background noise.  Greyson frowned in worry. "I thought you were still breastfeeding?"  "If I breastfed her every time she was hungry I wouldn't have time to do anything else. She's a hungry little baby. Lots of growing to do."  "She's fat," Phil corrected.  "Your mum."  "She's your mum too."  "Is mum up yet?" Sandy asked, coming into the kitchen and grabbing a bowl from the cupboard. Her old purple bathrobe that was two sizes too big dragged on the floor, her tangled brown hair falling in messy waves down her back. She sidestepped Tucker with ease, sliding in between the crowd of people trying to navigate the too small kitchen all at once.  A few of them shook their head. Phil continued to stare into his cereal bowl, not even eating anymore.  "She's sleeping," Greyson explained. "She had the graveyard shift."  "She did animal surgery at a graveyard?" Sandy asked, eyes wide.  "It's an expression. It means the late shift."  "And it wasn't animal surgery," Greyson explained patiently. "The clinic your mom works at has someone on site 24 hours a day, in case anyone's pet gets sick and needs help right away."  Phil's phone beeped, and he got up quickly, grabbing his backpack that was slung over the other chair.  "Have fun at school!" Greyson called out.  "Have fun selling used cars," Phil called back unenthusiastically. He walked right out the door without looking back, letting it slam shut behind him.  "He's a great kid," Greyson muttered. "Works hard. We shouldn't be too hard on him."  "School makes him boring," Tucker half agreed. "I like him better in the summer." --------  He wasn't wrong.  Phil rode the bus in silence, putting his backpack on the seat next to him so no one would sit with him. Headphones in, he pulled out his homework and started to review for his A-levels physics class.  Getting to school, he went throughout the day in silence. He talked to a few friends along the way, but all in all it was uneventful. He took a test and got another test back. B+. He'd have to do corrections.   When he got home, he went up to his room and started studying. He only had an hour until Tucker got back, and then the house would get progressively noisier and noisier until ten that night when it would simmer down, and he'd be able to study in silence again. Tucker had the top bunk, so he didn't mind Phil keeping his lamp on for most of the night, as long as the overhead light was turned off. However, sometimes his snoring distracted Phil.  After half an hour of reviewing, the rat started crying again and Phil was ready to stab someone. He changed out of his school uniform and into grass-stained jeans and a t-shirt and started going around the neighborhood, going through his checklist. Mrs.Henderson needed the hedges outside her house pruned every Thursday, and it was also the day he mowed the Howell's lawn.  An hour and a whole lot of sweat later- it was far too hot for November- Phil was knocking on the Howell's door.  It swung open after a full minute, revealing not Mr.Howell, but his son, Dan. "Hey Phil."  "Hey Dan. Is your dad here, I finished-"  The boy turned around, calling into the house, "Dad! Phil's here!"  They waited a few beats. Dan turned back to him. "How much do we owe you?"  "25 pounds."  "Jesus, you're ripping us off."  "Better your dad pays me to mow the lawn than make you."  Dan shrugged. "Probably."  His dad came running down the stairs, panting a little. "Phil! Good to see you!" He was a mess, almond brown hair sticking up almost at random. He stepped forwards and almost stepped on his son's foot if Dan hadn't stepped back.

 He scanned the front yard quickly then the boy in front of him. "How much is it again?"  "30 quid," Dan answered for Phil.  They both watched as his father emptied out his pockets, turning each one inside out hurriedly before finding the one with his wallet in it. "Ah ha! Here we go!" He pulled out a fat stack of cash, pulled off a few bills, and handed them over. "There you go. Payment for the week. Have any more leaves fallen?"  "No. That tree's been bare since the beginning of October."  He nodded quickly, stuffing his wallet into a different pocket than he'd pulled it out from. "That's great. And the lawn looks great, thanks for doing such a great job. I have to keep working now, but um, have a nice Thanksgiving!" He turned and hurried back up the stairs, skipping a few steps.  Dan and Phil watched him go. "It's two more weeks until Thanksgiving," Phil observed. "I'll see him at least two more times until then."  Dan snorted, still looking at the stairs where his father had sprinted up. "Yeah, he's a clutter-brain. Everyone tells me he's a genius, but... well, I have my doubts." He looked back at Phil. "He works in his office upstairs. All day. Sometimes doesn't even come down for meals."  Phil nodded, not really relating but at least understanding. "He's loud at night?"

 "Nah." He looked up, not really looking at anything in particular. "He hardly makes any noise in there. Sometimes I hear a crash, but that's just his clumsiness. He knocks down stuff every once in a while, but besides that, our house is usually dead."  "Must be nice. My house is always too loud to study in. You taking any A levels?"

 "Yeah, I'm in a few of your classes. Calc, and Lit. And forensic science, but that's not A levels."  Phil nodded, his cheeks a little warmer. "Sorry. I don't really talk much in class."  "I don't either. But I still look up every once in a while." He sighed. "I'm just procrastinating by talking to you. Have to write an essay. I'd rather throw myself into oncoming traffic."  "While I'll let you get to it then."  "Which one, studying or throwing myself into oncoming traffic?"  He shrugged. "Either or. But if you do decide to end it all, let me know so I can have your room. I'd be able to get stuff done so much quicker if I had some quiet."  Dan smiled. "Okay. I'll give you a heads up, put your name in my will maybe?"  "Definitely. See you around, Howell."  "See ya Lester."  As Phil walked home, he counted the money Mr.Howell had given him. Thirty pounds. Phil had been working for the Howells for at least a year now, and every single time he got paid he was asked how much it cost. Mr.Howell was clearly a cluster-head, and that was a nice term for it. ---  Phil knew he'd made a mistake the second the words came out his mouth.  The teacher was out for the period in general health and nutrition class, and no sub had shown up, so they got their desks all in a circle and decided to play a game of never have I ever. Phil didn't have any friends in this class, and he hadn't really talked to anyone in it recently, besides Dan, but that one time a week ago on his porch had hardly counted. Apparently, Dan and him had four classes together total. Phil had looked up in each class long enough to check.  The game was going fine for a few minutes. Phil, who never went out or did anything especially stupid, had most of his fingers up still. And then it got to the next person.  A girl, who smiled and proudly declared "Never have I ever kissed a girl."  Laughing, some people making noises and their friends put fingers down until someone noticed Phil didn't put any down. "Phil, did you put a finger down?"  He could feel his heart jump a little. "No."  All eyes were on him. "You've never kissed a girl?"  "I'm gay."  The reaction was immediate. Wide-eyes-open-mouths-chairs-scooted-back-worst-case-scenario "I didn't know there were any fags at our school!"  A few football players looked mortified. "We had gym together! Were you checking us out?"  "What? No!"  "Oh my God, he's kissed a dude!"  "That's disgusting!"  "I can't believe-"  "I'm sorry I'm late, class," the nutrition teacher stated, hurrying in through the front door of the classroom, coat and bag in hand. "My car had a problem and had to be towed, and my phone ran out of battery so I couldn't call anyone. Please arrange your desks back in their proper order, and we'll get started."  Everyone hurried to do as she said, doing their best not to touch Phil. They acted as if he had the plague, like his gay was contagious.  After a few minutes, they were all in their seats. Phil looked around and realized that there was a ring of empty desks around his seat. ---  Word traveled like wildfire.  After that class, he was afraid no one in the hallway would want to touch him. But to his surprise, only a few people seemed to know what had happened.  He practically ran to his next class. He sat down and put his head in his arms, mouthing the words it's going to be alright, it's going to blow over, no one will care, no one will care...  And no one in that class did care. Or so it seemed. Phil did his best not to look up.  He ate lunch in that class. Hopefully, already everyone in that God forsaken class had forgotten.  But by the time it was passing period again, it seemed like everyone knew. During lunch, everyone had been able to go on their phones and talk to their friends, and people stared at him in the hallway like he'd grown a tail.  "Gay."  "Homo."  "Lester, yeah, the boy with the black hair and the pasty skin-"  Phil put his headphones in at that point, drowning them out in music. He'd fucked up. ---  Dan answered the door that afternoon. As soon as he saw Phil, he scowled. "Dad! He's back!"  Phil leant up against the doorway, his breath shaky. Dan's expression made him want to curl in a ball on the floor. "Do you hate me too?"  "I'd be stupid not to."  "Because I'm a fag," Phil clarified.  Dan looked back, making sure his father hadn't appeared yet. "Because you can't keep your big mouth shut. Didn't you know that it'd ruin everything?"  Everything? "Everything?"  "I'm here!" Dan's dad appeared on the stairs, running down so fast it was a miracle he didn't trip. "How much?"  "25," Phil said quickly, daring Dan to correct him. He didn't need his help.  "25," Dan's dad agreed, quickly pulling out the bills. "Such a great thing you're doing, I'm sure everyone in the neighborhood appreciates it. I've always hated mowing the lawn."  "I've never minded it," said Phil, trying for an upbeat tone. "Good exercise."  "You kids need lots of exercise," the man agreed. "Daniel here does boxing. Great full body workout, keeps you healthy. Sorry, I've got to-"  "-get back to work," Dan agreed, glaring daggers his way. His dad didn't notice, just turned and left, back up to his office.  Phil turned to Dan. "I didn't know you boxed."  "I didn't know you were a fag," he sneered, turning and slamming the door in Phil's face.  He blinked. "Um, okay. Well... I guess I'll see you later too then." ---  "Anything interesting happen at school?" Phil's mum asked.  They went around, all of Phil's younger siblings sharing. Tucker got an A on his blah blah blah, Sandy got asked out by blah blah blah, and Phil's youngest sister, Anna, got made fun of for wearing her hair in a side braid when all the other kids wore theirs in a french braid.  "Kids can be cruel," Greyson advised, his paternal wisdom straight from a parenting book. "You can't let them get to you. The only people who are bullied are people who let themselves get bullied. You have to stand up for yourself..."  Blah blah blah. Blah blah. Blah. Phil was amazing at toning his family out at the dinner table. Now if only he could tone them out as efficiently when studying...  "And Philip? How was your day?" His mum asked brightly.  "Fine."  "Anything interesting happen?"  "No."  "How'd you do on that Lit exam?" Greyson offered with a smile.  "Fine."  ---  It was ten at night. Amanda was on her phone in the next room, the paper thin walls barely muffling her voice. On the top bunk, Tucker snored obnoxiously.  Phil closed his eyes and tried to think about Moby Dick. He had to study. He could not fail A-levels Literacy.  He was smart enough for this.  Would he have any friends when he went to school tomorrow? -------  Cereal. Backpack. Bus. School.  Yes, he still had friends. Yes, they accepted that he was gay. No, they didn't want to talk in the hallway. Yes, they were still his friends. You're right, you should have kept it to yourself, they said. You just royally screwed yourself over.  Class. Class class. Bus. Home. Study. Change. A note was stuck in the back pocket of his navy, school-issued trousers.  Faggot.  He threw it away, then thought better of it and tore it up, then threw it away.  By then Tucker was home, and soon Sandy and Anna were too. The house got louder and louder, and Phil's focus became less and less.  Finally, he gave up, tossing his folders and notebooks into his backpack, and heading out the door. ---  The bagel shop also sold coffee. However, it tasted horrible. Phil bought a small cup.  He chose a corner table and dropped his backpack, digging through it to find his materials, and sat down, immediately starting to write. He had to write a five-page report on the first half of Moby Dick, and he wrote without thinking.  Phil felt the presence next to him before he saw it. "Moby Dick? Interesting. You liking it?"  Phil looked up. "Hardly. What are you doing here Dan?"  He waved his bagel, making a duh expression. "I'm actually just leaving now. Enjoy the Dick book. But knowing you, I'm sure you will." He bit down on his bagel, reached out and knocking Phil's half empty coffee over, spilling all over the paper and his lap. "Oops."  He left, and Phil was left staring at the mess. Only half aware, he pushed his backpack and the book aside before the coffee could stain them. The pages he'd written so far were already ruined. He looked over them, trying to read what was written.  It didn't matter. Nothing he'd written had any sort of meaning or rhythm, and he'd used the same example at least three times. He balled the papers up and threw them away. ---   People pinched him in the hallway. He didn't know who it was but knew from the snickers it was the same people. He didn't react.  "Ooh, I think he likes it," a voice giggled. "Maybe he wants you to do it again."  "I bet he'd like it more if there weren't so many people here," another voice remarked quietly. "He'd be on his knees before you could snap your fingers, so desperate to get-"  Phil stuffed the headphones in his ears, turning his music on quickly. The louder the better. He tried to walk faster, ignore the looks. He really tried. ---  "Phil, anything new and excited happen at school today?"  "No."  "You've been giving the same answer all week! Surely something must have happened."  "No, nothing has. I presented that Health and Nutrition thing."  "Oh! That's nice, how'd it go?"  "Fine," he lied. "Can I be excused? I'm meeting with a friend."  He was exused, and as quickly as possible got his backpack and got over to the bagel shop. A cup of coffee in hand, he made his way to a table more out of the way than the first one, plugging in his music.  Peace and quiet, he thought, because music doesn't count as noise. My closest friend. ---  He couldn't afford to go to the bagel place every day. He was saving his money for uni, and mowing lawns didn't make that much.  The next Thursday, when he went to the Howell's house to collect his money for that week, Mr.Howell answered the door for once. "How much?"  "25 pounds. Is Dan at boxing?"  "Hmm? No, he's upstairs studying."  It took longer than normal for Mr.Howell to find and count the money. Phil shifted uncomfortably on the porch. "Dan's pretty lucky. I have to study at the Bagel shop by Main, my families so loud."  "Oh, you could always study here," Dan's dad said easily, counting out the pound notes. "Downstairs on the dining room table. Plenty of room, my wife works until nine most nights, and Dan studies upstairs, so there's plenty of room."  Phil blinked. "Are you serious?"  "Of course! You seem like a nice boy, I trust you. And you wouldn't be bothering either of us. Come over tomorrow with your study stuff, and you can just go at it. You seem like a nice boy."  On one hand, Dan hated his guts. On the other...  "Okay. Yeah, thanks Mr.Howell, I really appreciate it." ---  It took three days for Dan to notice him.  Phil let himself in after the first day, when Mr.Howell said it was easier for everyone. Then he studied at the dining room table, the house so quiet he questioned whether anyone was home at all.  He came back the next day, and the same happened. And the next day was shaping up to be the same, when Dan came downstairs to get a snack and stopped in his tracks. "What are you doing in my house?"  "Reconsidering my life choices," Phil answered immediately. "I should've taken easier classes. School is whooping my ass."  Dan walked over, surveying the mess of school supplied splayed across the table. "I bet you like that though."  Phil attempted a smile. It didn't work. "Just because I'm gay doesn't mean I'm kinky."  "You didn't deny it," Dan noted. Before Phil could defend himself, he was talking again, saying "But actually, what are you doing in my house?"  Phil rubbed his temples painfually. "Your dad said I could. I needed a quiet place to study."  "And you can't study at your house because...?"  Phil looked at him like he was an idiot. "Because I need a quiet place to study," he repeated, slower, as if to help Dan process it. "I have four siblings, not to mention the rodent."  "The rodent?"  "My sister had a baby. She never shuts up."  "The sister or the baby?"  "Both." Phil tilted his head to the side, considering. "Mostly the baby though."  "Cool," Dan deadpanned. "I'm going upstairs."  "Have fun."  He didn't respond. ----  Across Phil's locker, the word 'Twink' was spray painted, bright green. He tried to wipe it off with a wet paper towel, but it did nothing. ----  Beep. "The number you are calling is not available. Please leave a message, after the tone." Beep.   "Hey Peej, it's Phil, I was just wondering if you wanted to go the new movie theater sometime, check it out. I don't care what we see, um, you can choose. So... yeah. Call me back." Beep.  Beep. "The number you are calling is not available. Please leave a message, after the tone." Beep.   Beep. "Hey Mark, it's Phil! Do you wanna hang out sometime? It feels like it's been forever. So, uh, yeah, call me back!" Beep.  Beep. "The number you are calling is not available. Please leave a message, after the tone." Beep.   Beep. "It's Phil, I heard you and Julie broke up? Just wondering if you wanted to rant or talk about it or whatever. We could grab lunch or something. Um... yeah. Call me back." Beep.  Beep. "The number you are calling has been disconnected and is no longer available." Beep.   Beep.  ----  "I'm going to die," Tucker was saying, laying on his bed with his head hanging off the end. "I'm actually going to die."  "It's only report cards," Phil reassured. "You're smart. You'll be fine."  "I did horrible in Science this quarter. I didn't even turn in my notebook, I forgot. Mum's going to kill me!" He rolled over, staring at his older brother miserably. "I wish I was like you and actually liked school."  "I don't like school."  "That's all you ever do though. You go to school, then you get home and study. How could you not like school?"  Phil shrugged. "Guess I don't really like the people there. We don't really see eye to eye." ----  "Dunk! Dunk! Dunk! Dunk!"  "Better close your eyes, bum-chum!" Phil's head was dunked under, water pouring onto his face as they flushed the toilet. He sputtered for breath, the chanting and cheering being literally drowned out by water.  They let him go and he threw himself forwards on the disgusting bathroom tile, coughing and spitting, desperate for air.  "Funny. I always thought that you'd swallow."  More laughter. Phil wanted to cry, or die, or kill them or all three.  The bell rang, and everyone dispersed, leaving him in a wet pile of tears and toilet water. ---  Dan was staring at him.  Phil had done his best to dry off, but he could only do so much. He refused to let the bullies make him miss class though, especially Calculus. He already hardly understood the class, he couldn't afford to miss a full day of instructions.  Phil tried to ignore the other boy's gaze on him, instead listening to the teacher. "...I'm sorry, but I don't let anyone take home the textbooks. We have a class set of 30, and that's all the district will provide for us for the next 20 years, basically. However, if you'd like you can stay after school..."  Dan was still staring at him. What happened? He mouthed from across the class.  I'm gay Phil mouthed back. He didn't know if Dan understood or not, but the boy's eyes widened, and Phil could tell that he'd made sense on at least some level.  After school that day, Phil was studying where he always did when Dan sat next to him. "Finish Moby Dick yet?"  "Last night. It was amazing, a fine piece of literature, blah blah blah."  Dan nodded. "I hated it. I still have twelve pages left to go."  "The last bit isn't so bad. It's better with the end in sight."  Dan nodded thoughtfully. "Makes sense. On a scale of one to ten, how gay exactly are you?"  Phil almost got whiplash from how fast Dan had turned the conversation around. "Um... I don't know. I'm not that gay."  "You're lying," Dan observed. "I'm not going to hit you or anything. Or make you go swimming like your friends from earlier did."  "They weren't my friends."  "I didn't think so. Now come on, scale of one to ten, one being straight and ten being so gay that you-"  "Ten." Phil cut him off, not sure if he wanted to hear the rest.  Dan's eyes widened. "Seriously? So you'd-"  "I'm very gay," Phil agreed. "So gay that I've never kissed a girl and never want to. So gay that I can't even imagine dating a girl, or marrying one, ever."  Dan leaned forward, interested. "So you'd like, suck dick?"  Phil winced. "In theory."  "And you would like, take it up the ass, and-"  "God Dan, please shut up. Maybe. I don't know, are you offering?"  Dan's eyes got wide.  "It's... it's a figure of speech," Phil explained, backing up. "Not a real question. Now, can I get back to studying, or-"  "Yeah, yeah!" Dan stood up so quickly he almost knocked the chair over. "Yeah, I was just curious. You can go back to studying, you're just like... the only gay person I know."  "There's more of us," Phil said, trying to hide the annoyance in his voice. "Other gay people at our school, in fact. There have to be, the stats don't lie."  "Not that any of us would know it. After everything happening with you, you'd have to be stupid to come out at our school."  Phil scratched the back of his neck. "Yeah. I guess you're right."  "Yeah!" Dan took a step back, then shuffled forwards, bumping against the chair unceremoniously. "I'm going to go... study!"  "Okay," Phil responded with slight amusement. "Have fun."  "I- I will!" He turned around and almost ran straight into a wall. He quickly sidestepped, then was up the stairs, turning into what was assumably his room.  Phil shook his head, smiling only a little bit. ---  "The game's coming out in the New Year, but I want to preorder it now. Then I can get it as soon as possible. It has these super amazing graphics, honestly, I want to a design class or a graphic art class or something like that so I can learn how to do that sort of animation, because have you seen it? It's so cool! It's too expensive, but I'll get it anyways, I have some money saved up..." Phil trailed off, looking around. "Why are you all looking at me like that?"  Greyson was the first to clear his throat. "Um, it's just you've been so quiet lately. Is there anything new, or anything? You've been spending a lot of time away from home. New friends?"  Phil shrugged. "Not really. Just... the game I guess." His shoulders slumped forwards slightly.  "Tell us more about it!" His mum prompted quickly. It was the first time in a long time that she'd seen her son so vibrant, and she wasn't about to let him go back to sulking so fast.  Phil perked up. "Yeah, it's got these controllers..." ---  "No you spoon, it all goes back to the limit definition of the derivative. You have to define the variables, see, here..." Dan underlined a few numbers, gesturing with his pencil. "And then.... multiply here...." He was completely entranced in the work, marking and drawing lines connecting the dots, getting wrapped up in the math of it.  Phil didn't really remember how they got in this position, with Dan sitting at the table with him, showing him how to do the homework. Phil had had no idea, and he still didn't fully understand it, but it was becoming easier.  "Like this," Phil muttered, taking out another pencil and adding onto the equation Dan was writing. "You square it." 

 Dan stared at it for a long moment, blinking. "Um, no. You don't square anything. If you wanted, you could root it... actually, you probably wouldn't want to do that. Here, look." ---  It made more sense for them to work on their homework together. Phil didn't remember when it was decided, but one day Dan started bringing his work downstairs and working at the table with Phil, going over problems together and complaining back and forth. Dan was good at calc. Phil was better at Lit. Neither of them liked forensics. And both of them thought that generally, government class was stupid and signing up was a mistake.  They were talking one day when one of their phones went off in the pile of papers and notebooks scattered across the desk. "Get it," Dan suggested, nodding to the pile.  "Well it's not my phone."  "That's not my ringtone. You probably just usually have it on mute."  "Who would be calling me?"  Dan shrugged. "Well answer it!"  Phil jumped up, digging through the pile and flipping over his near-empty backpack, grabbing the phone and answering at the last second. "Mushi Mushi?"  There was some crackling at the end of the line.  Phil caught his breath. "Hello?"  Silence. Then, after a beat, a low deep voice growled "you have seven days to live."  "Dan, it's for you." Phil handed the phone over to the very confused Dan.  "Hullo." He paused, listening to the voice. Phil could barely hear it.  "Seven days..." it whispered guterally.  "Thank God," Dan mumbled in reply. "But can we speed up the process a bit? I have a test before that. Could you just kill me now?"  The voice seemed to consider this. "Not now. Tonight."  Dan clicked flirtily. "I'll light some candles. See you at 7." He closed the phone, hanging up with a grin. "Friend of yours?"  Phil shook his head, smiling lightly. "Nah, little brother. He got his own phone last week and has been prank calling people ever since. I'm actually kind surprised it's taken him this long to try it with me."  Dan laughed. "Amazing. I always wanted to have a little brother."  "I don't know. Tucker's all right, but I'd prefer to have my own room. Then I wouldn't have to come over and invade your space every day."  "You're not invading my space." The air seemed to crackle with electricity, or maybe something a little more dangerous. Then it disappeared. "Have you seen my room yet?"  "No. Wanna give me the grand tour?" ---  Phil had never had his own room. Dan practically had his own floor.  "There's Dad's office, which he spends about 23 out of 24 hours in, so it doesn't really count. But they technically sleep in their room downstairs, so I have loads of space."  Dan's room was at least twice the size of Phil's, and it looked even bigger with a double bed instead of the bunk beds that took up most of Phil's space. The bed had hidden storage under it for Dan's clothes, and next to it sat a nightstand crowded with figurines from animes, little mementos, and a few condoms.  "Nice," Phil said dryly, staring at the latter, which was out in plain sight.  "Um, ignore that!" Dan opened the drawer and swept the condoms and a bottle into it, closing it quickly. "No one ever comes in here, so it's not like I need to hide them."  "No one ever comes in here," Phil repeated, picking up an empty wrapper from the floor. "Yeah, I believe you."  Dan snatched the wrapper out of his hand, stuffing it in the drawer with the others. "Shut up." His cheeks had turned a bright pink.  "Why do you have two desks?" Upon further inspection of the room, Phil realized there were two desks inside of one, one in each corner opposite the bed. Only one had a chair by it, and that was the only one with papers on it. The other had a stack of discarded clothing on it, like it had been downgraded to a laundry hamper.  Dan looked where he was staring. "Oh, that's dad's old one. He gave it to me, like I'd have use for two."  Phil shrugged, glancing around. Nothing else was of much interest to him, unless he was willing to ask Dan more about the condom wrappers, which he wasn't.  "Wanna get a snack? I'm hungry." ----  The coffee tasted much better at the Bagel shop when he was sat at a table for two. It turned out, Dan was actually quite funny, though most of his jokes were horrible and caused Phil to snort so hard he almost directly inhaled his coffee.  Other new information learned: the bagels at the bagel shop taste about as bad as the coffee. Dan got one, and it was so stale he could tap it against the table and make a noise like horses galloping on pavement. Dan ate it anyways.  The whole building was so warm. Phil felt like he was wearing a woolen jumper. How long had it been since he'd felt so warm? Too long.  Dan smiled wide and laughed loud. And Phil did too. His cheek muscles ached from so much exercise after so much disuse. ---  Phil was just setting his stuff down on the Howell's dining room table when Dan called him upstairs. When Phil got to the top of the steps and peeked in his room, Dan was sitting in his rolling chair, the end of a pencil between his teeth. "Do you want to bring a chair up here? I don't get the Lit assignment." ---  There were few things that felt better than leaving school for holiday break. Actually, two, to be exact: leaving school for Summer Vacation and leaving school for good.  Dan whooped, tilting his face up to the starry sky and leaning back, stumbling only slightly. The brown paper bag he clutched in one hand sloshed around with his movement, the drink inside it still half full.  Phil's drink was half full too. It was strange- earlier that school year, he would've called it half empty. But lately, a lot of things were looking half full.  "I'm gonna to be an astronaut when I grow up," Dan slurred, stalking forwards, eyes trained on the stars. "'m gonna see the stars up close, and personal. Get all up in their space." He squinted, daring the stars to disagree.  "Is that what you're studying at uni-"  "Don't say that word!" Dan commanded quickly, cutting him off. "Evil. I'm in a good mood, satyr, don't ruin it with your talk of the future."  Dan's insults had been getting more and more interesting ever since they did the unit on The Odyssey in A-levels Lit. Dan had done an essay on the various ways mythology was ingrained in the culture of the time, and needless to say, he'd gotten a bit into it.  Phil took a big swig from his bottle, letting the liquor pour down his throat like molten lava, stinging and burning his tongue. They walked in curved lines, words slurred but brains still mostly aware. The empty space in their bottles wasn't enough to get someone drunk, but luckily for them, it wasn't all they'd been drinking that night.  "I hate parties," Dan mumbled. Most of his filters had been strewn on the floor, sloshed around and discarded like bad mouthwash. "Too many stupid people."  "It was your idea to go," Phil reminded him.  "Stupid," he repeated. "I don't even like dancing."  Phil raised the bottle to his lips and gulped, doing his best to wash the memory away. Dan had danced with a girl, some stupid brunette who was significantly smaller than him. They'd danced, and then made out, before Dan pulled away and spat on the floor. No one cared. It was too late and the air smelled too much like vomit and beer for anyone to care.  Phil wished he didn't care. "You like her?"  Dan didn't need to ask who he was talking about. "Not really. Just someone to dance with, someone to kiss." He sipped from his bottle, stopping to giggle lightly. "Not that you'd know anything about that."  "In my defense, I can't kiss people. Nobody around who'd want to."  "Oblivious potato you are." He cackled up to the sky, eyes gazing around as if waiting for Zeus to appear and pluck him from the ground. "'My name is nobody'," he quoted, smiling vaguely.  Phil shook his head, trying not to think about The Odyssey any more. Dan was referring to the passage where the brave Odysseus was face to face with the monstrous cyclops, Polyphemus. When asked his name, Odysseus replies 'My name is nobody'. Later, he stabs the cyclops in his one eye and escapes with his men, and Polyphemus chases him blindly out to the shore screaming bloody murder. When the other cyclopes on the island hear him and ask what's wrong, he screams 'Nobody stabbed me! Nobody stabbed me!' and Odysseus is able to escape.  He stared at the boy next to him, face illuminated solely by the thin scrap of moon that was visible. Phil wondered if he was thinking about the Odyssey too.  "She was a horrible kisser," Dan mumbled. "Tasted like cigarettes." He turned and looked at Phil sincerely, voice scratching out, "Don't smoke. I don't want any campfire kisses."   Then he stumbled forwards, continuing to walk, quoting: "'Of all creatures that breathe and move upon the earth, nothing is bred that is weaker than a man.'"  Phil giggled. "You should probably head home now. Sleep it off."  Dan nodded tiredly. His shoulders were weighed down visibly, as if he still carried his backpack jammed full of expectations and textbooks. "'There is a time for many words,'" hiccup "'...and there is also a time for sleep.'" ---  Phil awoke with a pounding headache and a light blush across his cheeks. ---  "Your friends can't come over on Christmas," their mum insisted. "Christmas day is for family only."  "Sweetie, let's not be unreasonable. They just want to have fun! What about Christmas Eve?" Greyson suggested, ever the mediator. Sandy stared at them from across the dinner table, her puppy dog face on maximum level.  She frowned, thinking it over. "Fine. But Sandy, only bring one or two friends over, we hardly have enough room for everyone in the house as it is. Phil, could you go to the store sometime this week and get hot coco and eggnog?"  "And whipped cream!" Sandy added excitedly.  "Probably need two cans," Greyson agreed.  Phil nodded, making a mental note. "And, um, if Sandy is having friends over, do you think I could invite someone too?" ---  Phil sat on the carpeted floor, leaning against the maroon couch. His hands were wrapped around the warm mug of eggnog, and he sipped it slowly, trying to savor it. He was only allowed one glass, as Greyson insisted that it was important not to start drinking too young. Needless to say, Phil wasn't about to tell him about his and Dan's activities the week prior.  Dan sat closely nestled next to Phil, also with a single mug of eggnog and an overly festive jumper. The main difference was, Dan's was black with a reindeer on it, while Phil's was covered in reds, greens and whites. When Dan first saw it he claimed Phil looked like an 'obnoxious candy cane', to which Phil replied with something that wasn't supposed to be sexual, but of course Dan ended up taking it that way.  Dan was very warm, and their arms pressed against each other, though Phil reminded himself that it was because there was so little space. Sandy and Anna had friends over, meaning that there were currently around a dozen people in the sitting area and kitchen, which were made even smaller by the almost invasive presence of the plastic Christmas tree. "We should get a real one this year!" Phil had suggested upon seeing Greyson carrying the box down from the attic.  "No can do," he'd replied easily. "Real Christmas trees are a potential fire hazard. Do you know how many people get electrocuted watering Christmas trees naked, a year?"  No, Phil had not know, and no, he did not enjoy that mental image.  Dan was quieter than normal, sipping his eggnog and observing the goings on of the family and extras.  Finally, Phil spoke up. "I'm glad you could come. Are your parents celebrating with friends?"  Dan shook his head. "Mum might be. But Dad's spending the night in his office. Hopefully he'll get up and go to bed before it's time to open presents."  Dan's father was an extremely intelligent man, with a spattering of fancy degrees and an extremely prestigious job. But Dan talked about him like he was a deadbeat.  "It's weird being here," Dan admitted. "I've never had siblings."  "I've never not had siblings. I used to hate it, middle child syndrome and all that. Now... I don't mind it as much."  "I bet not. Especially since you don't have to study at home anymore."  Across the room, Phil's younger sisters and their friends laughed loudly, talking in quiet, fast voices among themselves. In the background, the song 'Rockin' Around The Christmas Tree' played, and Amanda and Tucker danced to it on the small stretch of floor in between the kitchen and living room. Amanda looked happier than normal, probably since Janie finally managed to go to sleep and hadn't woken up since the party started. Tucker smiled too, though he looked a little embarressed to be seen dancing with his big sister.  "Come on," Phil urged, feeling a sudden impulse. "Let's dance."  He got up and pulled Dan to his feet, ignoring his complaints. "But I have two left feet!"  "I have four!" Phil retaliated, yanking Dan over to the tile floor and grabbing his other hand, spinning him.  "How is that even possible?" Dan complained, spinning and catching himself on Phil's hand. "Now I know why you're failing Calculus. You can't count!"  They swayed, doing something that almost resembled dancing.  "Everyone dancing merrily, in a new old-fashioned way,” The music played.  More people moved over, starting to dance along. Phil tried not to cringe as he saw his mum being tugged over to the floor, Greyson pulling her over to dance.  "I'm not failing Calc," Phil defended, intertwining his hands with Dan's more comfortably. "I have a B minus!"  "Potato po-tat-o." Dan spun him, and Phil only stumbled slightly. "You're right, you have no coordination."  "What's that quote?" Phil recalled. "'The gods don't give out all gifts at once..."'  "'Not build and brains and flowing speech to all. One man may fail to impress us with his looks but a god can crown his words with beauty, charm, and men look on with delight when he speaks out.'" Dan looked like he was somewhere else, reciting the quote easily. "'Never faltering, filled with winning self-control, he shines forth at assembly grounds and people gaze at him like a god when he… when he walks through the streets. Another man may look like a deathless one on high but there's not a bit of grace to crown his words. Just like you, my fine, handsome friend.'"  "Wow."  ‘Rockin' Around The Christmas Tree’ ended. Dan didn't seem to notice that there was no more music. He seemed to be staring at Phil's lips, his own lips parted slightly.  "Wow," Phil repeated again. "I'm genuinely impressed. I can't remember quotes for the life of me."  "They spoke to me," Dan replied with a shrug, trying to start swaying again to the beat of the new song playing, Let It Snow.  The weather outside is frightful. But the fire is so delightful. And since there's no place to go. Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow. ---  Christmas day was exciting, but not like it usually was. They each got a few small presents from their Mum and Greyson, and Amanda, Phil, and Tucker each had a present for each family member. Sandy and Anna couldn't be bothered to buy presents, but they were young enough that it was excusable.  After all the presents had been opened, the adults went into the kitchen and started preparing lunch, and Phil and Tucker wrestled around a bit. Phil may be 18, but he would never be an adult to his parents, just as Amanda had a job and a kid, but she still sat at the kids' table at family gatherings.  Tucker was small for someone his age, still in early high school, but he was a decent wrestler. Phil had the size advantage, but it was a pretty even match.  "I wanna do karate," Tucker said later, after they were done. "Or boxing. Or wrestling, I guess. Something like that."  A memory tugged at the back of Phil's mind. "Dan does boxing, I think."  "You think?"  "His dad mentioned it once," Phil explained. "I don't know if he still does, actually. He never talks about it."  "That's a weird thing not to talk about," Tucker observed. "If I did boxing, I'd probably never shut up about it." ---   "It's never come up in conversation, I guess," Dan explained, kicking off his snow boots. It was still Christmas Day, just a little later, and Dan had walked over to Phil's house to collect him. 'My house is quiet and I'm bored,' he'd explained, shivering in the cold. 'Come over?'  Phil had taken his first opportunity to ask about Dan's boxing, and sure enough, he boxed. "I go to practice three times a week, compete most Sundays, and train most nights before bed."  "And you've never thought to mention it?"  He shrugged. "It's not something I talk about. It's... weird, you know? I have like... a personality, that everyone knows, you know? And boxing just doesn't fit into it."  The two boys walked upstairs to Dan's room automatically. Phil sat on his bed. "Why not? Boxing is cool."  "And obviously I'm so cool," Dan muttered sarcastically. "I have like, negative two friends."  "You have me."  "Yes, there is that. But as you are the only openly gay student in our school, that doesn't score me much points." He winced. "Sorry."  Phil tried not to be offended. "Well, you're not wrong."  "If you wanted, you could use my locker at school," Dan offered quickly, desperately. "I don't use it. And then, you wouldn't have to see... you know..."  He was referring of course, to Phil's locker, which still had the word 'twink' spray painted across it. Phil had tried to scrub it away, but nothing worked. He'd reported it to the office, but to his knowledge, they hadn't even bothered to try to get rid of it.  Phil exhaled shakily. He hadn't thought about the bullies ever since the break started. He shook his head, changing the topic of conversation back to boxing. "You said you trained? Where?" ---  Phil had never realized that Dan's mom never parked her car in their garage. He also never realized that Dan's dad didn't even have a car.  "He's too much of a social recluse to have a car," Dan explained, leaning against the wall of the garage. Instead of being a space for parking cars, it had been converted into a gym of sorts, with a tattered old punching bag in the middle of the room. Pushed against the walls were boxes, some filing cabinets, and a new looking bench press covered in clothes and gloves.  "I don't use that," Dan explained, seeing Phil's eyes train on the press. "It's too boring."  Phil walked around the punching bag, observing where the material was faded or torn. A few spots were patched up with duct tape, and a few spots looked like it was about time they be patched up.  Phil noticed something out of the corner of his eye and walked over to where an open cardboard box sat again the wall. Dan realized what he was doing too late, and by the time he shouted "Wait!" Phil was already leaning down.  "Trophies?"  "I'm not any good," Dan promised. "Most of them are just participation!"  Phil pulled one of the medium-sized ones out. It was covered in a layer of dust, which he brushed aside. "Second place?"  "It was a small event!" Phil looked up, and for the first time noticed how panicked Dan looked. "Could you please put it back? Hey, I got the new Zelda game, do you want to try it out?"  Phil wanted to ask more about boxing. Obviously Dan was being modest; the box was stuffed full of trophies, and there were other boxes in the room. Did they contain the same things?  But when he saw Dan's expression, he knew there was no way he could push him any further. For whatever reason, Dan was ashamed of boxing, or something like that. Phil wanted to know why.  But now was not the time to ask. "Yeah, cool. Show me the game?" ----  Phil didn't not welcome school back with open arms.    Something had happened over the break. What, he didn't know, but everyone was glaring at him which such malice he wondered if he'd killed someone without realizing.  He pulled his headphones out, allowing himself to hear the chatter. His next class was on the other side of the school, and after he'd been walking a few minutes, he'd heard a shred of conversation that made him keep listening.  "....grounded. Chuck was caught sleeping with him-"  "With Lester?"  "Yeah! I mean, who else would he sleep with? It was a dude, and his dad got so pissed he beat him."  "Dude. How'd the fucking fag get Chuck to sleep with him in the first place?"  "I dunno, but now he won't be able to play in the game on Friday. We really need a win if we want to make it to regionals..."  Phil put his headphones back in his ears. Apparently, there were at least two other gays going to his school: Chuck, and another boy who'd been caught sucking him off. -----  "What happened?"  "Got in a fight."  "With who?"  "This guy at school." Correction: these guys at school. "We had a difference in opinion." ----  Dan prepared him an ice pack. "I heard the news. About, you know, you and Chuck."  "I didn't do anything with Chuck. I don't even know him that well."  "I know you didn't." Dan zipped up the bag of ice, handing it over with a towel. "Hold this over your eye, it should help the swelling."  "Doctor Daniel," Phil teased, taking the ice thankfully. His eye was beginning to swell shut, and his chest ached. At least he could hide bruised ribs. It wasn't so easy with the eye.  "You caught me at a bad time," Dan admitted. "I was going to practice now."  "Sorry. You want me to go, or... can I watch?"  Dan almost considered it. Phil could see the gears turning, but the awkward smile made his answer clear. "Sorry, I think you'd better go. I think it'll be a rougher workout today, I've got some... stuff to get out."  "Stuff to get out," Phil repeated. "Yeah, I can go. See you tomorrow?"  "Yeah, sure. And stop getting in fights, bruising doesn't suit you."  "That, we can agree on." ----  The rumors kept swirling. Chuck was not gay, it seemed, he'd just been put in an awkward situation and took advantage of it. "A mouth is a mouth," he laughed with his friends. "Trust me, I didn't want the fag to touch me but he wanted it so bad, you should've seen him. So wrecked." When his friends asked more about it, he replied quickly "No, I didn't like it! If he was a girl it would have been so hot though. He was so sweaty his hair got really curly- yeah, like that. Don't worry though, he'll pay for it. Trust me on that." ----  Dan was so sweaty his hair got even curlier than normal.  "Woah," Phil said as soon as he saw him. "Boxing practice?"  "Yeah. I'm getting ready for a big meet, have to be prepared." He took the strap of one of the gloves in his teeth, ripping it off easily. Phil tried not to stare too much. "Anyone else give you crap today?"  "Anyone not give me crap? It's fine, school's over. I don't have to see any of them again until tomorrow." He willed his voice not to crack, his hand not to shake. His head hurt from being slammed against the lockers.  Dan nodded, not making eye contact as he took the other glove off. "How's Calc going? I wish that he just let us take the book home, it'd be so much easier."  "It would." Phil didn't really know what else to say.  "I'm going to... erm, I'm going to do my homework in my room again. Come with?"  Phil's head throbbed. "Yeah. Sure." ----  Phil didn't know when he snapped. But if I had to say a moment in the altogether miserable week, it'd probably be when he was laying on the floor of the boys' bathroom, sopping wet from the swirly. After they'd dunked him in the toilet, they'd used him as a mop, swinging him around by his legs and splashing water on the ground for the back of his favorite hoodie to clean up.  Then they left him, far more interested in getting out of the school than they were in beating up the fag.  Phil laid there, not bothering to get up. His favorite hoodie was filthy, with dirt and toilet water and he didn't even want to know what else. And he was all alone on the bathroom floor, his bus having already left.  And something snapped.  Phil stood. He tore off his jacket and stuffed it in the trash can, hefted his backpack, and only made one stop before marching out of the school and walking all the way home. ---  Phil went home and changed out of his stupid school uniform into comfortable work clothes and went around, doing his yard work for the day. Then he went home, got his backpack, and marched to Dan's house, going straight up to Dan's room without knocking.  Dan wasn't wearing pants. "Phil! I didn't-"  "I stole something."  Dan blinked. "Um, what?"  Phil opened his backpack on Dan's bed, dumping half of it out and pulling out a Calculus textbook. "I was angry- I'm still kinda angry- and I'm failing the class." He paused. "And I'm not giving it back."  Dan blinked. It took him a little too long to process. "I'm not wearing pants." He repeated.  "You mentioned that already. I just stole a textbook."  "Yeah, you said that too."  They both were frozen.  Phil cleared his throat. "You can put on pants now. If you want."  "If I want," Dan repeated.  "I mean, I don't care."  "No, you'd probably actually prefer I don't put my pants on."  Phil scowled, messing with his backpack. "Don't put words in my mouth."  They were quiet for a few more moments.  "I'm going to put pants on."  "Okay." ----  Studying was a lot easier with the calc textbook. ----  "We could just sit on the floor," Phil suggested, eying the small couch wearily.  "Nah, this is better. Come on, hop up." Dan sat down, bowl of popcorn in hand, and patted the small space next to him.  Phil sat, the couch so small there was no way for them to sit without touching. "It's a good movie," Dan said, "so don't you dare fall asleep."  "I promise I won't," Phil laughed, snuggling up to his friend, albeit still cautiously.  Dan started the movie and leaned against Phil, his head on his shoulder. ----  Phil fell asleep during the movie.  But it was okay.  Because so did Dan. ----  "Oh, hello boys."  Phil had been half awake for a few minutes, not wanting to move. He was too warm, too tired, and besides, Dan was still asleep. "Hi Mr.Howell. We watched a movie last night, and fell asleep."  Dan snored, snuggling closer to Phil.  "I promise it's not as bad as it looks-" Phil started, but Mr.Howell cut him off quickly.  "Oh no, don't worry about it. I know about you two, Dan has boys over all the time. He didn't tell me specifically, but I notice things."  Phil blinked, still only half awake. "He has boys over all the time? What do you mean?"  "Well, not since you've been dating I'm sure. We've never talked about it, but I know he's homosexual, or bisexual, or whatever the kids call it these days. I'm not as oblivious as all that."  Phil blinked again. Apparently, Dan's dad wasn't that oblivious, but Phil certainly was. ----  Dan woke up a few minutes later.  "Crap, I fell asleep," he said as if that weren't already obvious. "Wait... don't tell it's morning already?"  "We both fell asleep," Phil admitted. He observed Dan as he stretched, pulling himself up. The words you're gay? got clogged in his throat, refusing to come out.  Just like Dan. Funny how that works. ————

They were in Dan’s bed. It was late, and they were both just a little drunk on exhaustion and booze. Not drunk enough for their thoughts to be incoherent or their voices to slur, just drunk enough for Dan to quote "The Odyssey" every other minute.  "You know you’re my best friend, right?" Dan said quietly. He was staring at Phil, his eyes slightly lowered. Phil sighed contentedly, his eyes trained on his 'best friend's lips.  "Yeah, I know. You’re my best friend too." Phil shuffled slightly, wondering if it’d be too gay to cuddle up closer to Dan. Then again, it sounded like Dan was also gay, at least partially. Maybe it’d be okay.  He was stuck. He was stuck, right in between wanting to kiss Dan and not wanting to lose him, because he knew that out of the two options, he could likely only choose one. And he couldn’t loose Dan.  Shoveling the sidewalks as quickly as he could just so he could be paid by the neighbors and get to Dan's house as fast as possible, just to study. Going to the bagel shop for a special treat and eating the almost indigestible bagels and coffee, because it was convenient and it was quiet and he’d go anywhere with Dan, really. He like being around him a bit too much, and eventually it’d probably screw him over, but for now, it was worth it.  They liked going drinking Friday nights. Always some party, and if there wasn't, there was always booze for sale. They didn’t drink every week, but they did when they could. When Dan was tipsy he often lost track of personal space, and he’d bump into Phil or stand so close that Phil would wonder if he was going to kiss him. But then he’d pull away, saying something about why the government had set them up for failure, or ramble on about textual themes. He loved quoting the Odyssey. They walked through an empty field to get home most times, and it was just out of the way enough that they could see the stars, and Dan would say something about how "It is the wine that leads me on, the wild wine, that sets the wisest man to sing, at the top of his lungs, laugh like a fool – it drives the man to dancing... it even tempts him to blurt out stories better never told." And Phil just listens and smiles and wonders if Dan somehow managed to memorize the entire Odyssey, or if perhaps, he recites it in the shower.  He loved Dan. That much was clear. He loved him like a best friend. He loved him a little more than that maybe, loved him like he was angry, loved him in spite and loved him in secret. And it seemed as though Dan loved him as a best friend too. And there was that love, that love that Phil had no idea what to do with, so they could drown it out with booze and homework and chit chat and stale bagels and complaining about their families/classes/experiences/lives, but you can never truly drown love, love can swim.  Phil wonders if there’s a quote about that somewhere in The Odyssey. The entire story is about a man, Odysseus, trying to get back home to his wife Penelope. The journey is painful and long, but when he comes home, it was almost as if he’d never left. Phil supposed that the love between Odysseus and Penelope was buoyant too.

———— "Because of you, Chuck wasn’t there for the game. Because of you, we lost."  Phil backed up, the three boys stalking towards him until he was flush against the lockers, banging against them with a little clanging noise from the cheap metal. He knew where this was going. Chuck stood to the side, cracking his knuckles. In front of him, Trevor was the one leading the assault, his dirty brown hair falling in front of his eyes. Caleb stood to the other side of him, dumping his backpack on the ground as if he didn’t want it holding him back.  "It wasn’t me," Phil insisted again like maybe this time they’d listen. They didn’t, just continued pressing forwards until Phil had pressed himself so closely against the locker he could feel its hinges digging into his back. Phil’s gaze fluttered from one boy to the next, looking for any signs of hesitation, some sort of human emotion. He found nothing.  He swallowed. "I have standards. I wouldn’t get anywhere near his dick."  The first punch came before he’d finished his sentence, a sharp pain across his face that made him slam back against the lockers. The rest came in rapid succession, his ribs, his face, his stomach. He doubled over, gripping his stomach and desperately trying to protect his head as fingers dug into his head and shoved him to ground.  "This is for being a fag!" Phil’s breathe was torn from his throat, forcefully expelled by a harsh kick to the lungs.  "And this is for costing us regionals!" Chuck's voice, and a swift kick to the head. Phil wondered if he knew that it wasn’t him who he slept with, and was caught by his father. Phil wondered if he cared.  Phil tasted blood. His body twitched away from every blow until he was curled up in the fetal position on the dirty school floor, and as he was being attacked on every side all he could think about was how stupid it was for him not to book it out of school as soon as he’d had the chance.  A filthy shoe made contact with his face, and he tasted blood. Phil covered his head with his hands, just wishing them to go away.  "What the fuck are you doing? Hey, get off of him!"  The kicking stopped temporarily, but Phil didn’t dare try to get up. There was a scuffle, and then a body was slammed against the locker.  Phil looked around quickly then scrambled to his feet, his assailants more busy with someone else. A new person had appeared, his body shoved up against the locker as he yelled back and forth at the bullies.  A balding teacher left his classroom, coffee mug in hand. He watched the fight for a moment, then retreated back into his room, locking the door behind him.  Phil was frozen in shock as Trevor was kicked backward, stumbling a meter then falling on his ass. The person was still shoving the other two away but somehow managed to rear his arm back and punch Caleb so hard he crumpled against the lockers.  Dan grabbed Chuck by his greasy blonde hair and yanked his head down, making contact with his knee. Phil flinched, taking a step back so he was leant against the wall, still catching his breath but in too much shock to move. Dan spun Chuck around and slammed him into the lockers with so much force Phil’s back ached in sympathy.  Dan was bleeding, a long scratch right under his eye from a nail or something. He had a split lip. But he didn’t look any weaker from it, hardly even seemed fazed.  He held Chuck against the locker, holding an elbow directly under his chin, but then adjusted his hands so he was holding Chuck still by his neck. Dan panted and wiped some of the blood on his face away. Chuck's hand came up to cup his own bleeding nose, but Dan slapped it away, pulling Chuck back and slamming his head against the locker easily.  "I hear you’ve been spreading rumors," Dan muttered. His voice was deep and gravelly, but he stared at Chuck easily, not intimidated in the least. "People seem to think that Phil was the one you were caught with."  To his side, Travis started getting up, but before he could Dan kicked him in the stomach so hard he fell back down. "Shh, listen." Dan brought his attention back to Chuck, who wouldn’t look at him. "Who was it?"  "It was you," he admitted. "You were the fag. You think you’re so special Howell, thought you could keep it a secret-"  Dan slammed him against the locker again, and Chuck shut up, his hands flying up to Dan’s hands still wrapped around his neck, trying to get him to loosen his grip.  Dan licked his lips. "Listen up, all three of you. Stop screwing with my boyfriend. Or they’ll be hell to pay."  He let go of Chuck, shoving him down onto his knees as he stepped back. "Feels familiar, doesn’t it? You on your knees. All we need now is a broken lock on your door and your raging father, isn’t that right?"  He took another step back, glancing over his shoulder and grabbing Phil’s collar, pulling him into a kiss. It was sloppy and tasted like blood, and Phil could still hardly catch his breath, and nothing was processing, because was Dan really kissing him?  Dan pulled away, but still held onto his collar. They stayed there a moment, eyes interlocked, when the next impact came.  Dan was thrust against the wall, stumbling to get up. Travis stood over him. "Cocksucker," he snarled, raising his foot to stomp Dans lights out. But Dan was too fast, grabbing his leg and yanking him down. They wrestled on the floor for a moment until Dan came up on top, muttering something about Travis being 'surrounded by cocksuckers' before landing another punch.  They started brawling for real, hitting and punching and clawing and before Phil knew it, he and Chuck were locking eyes and running over to pull them apart before they could kill each other.  Finally, a few teachers ran down the hallways, shouting something about stopping, and all five boys had just enough time to stand, regard each other harshly, and glance down one last time. "Fuck you," Phil spat, before balling his fist and punching Chuck square in the jaw before turning and sprinting away, Dan right on his heels.  He hit the door with so much force that it actually hurt, but everything hurt at this point and Phil was bleeding and so was Dan and they had to get away before anyone spotted them. They sprinted around the side of school, panting turned into exhausted laughter as they turned the corner and collapsed against the brick wall. It was that type of pained laughter that physically hurt, because Phil’s ribs were definitely bruised and maybe worse, and his hands were stained with blood, and he was definitely imagining things because Dan was there too, the area right under his right eye splotchy and red.  "I can’t believe-" Phil started, but they didn’t have all day for him to say everything he didn’t believe had happened, but somehow, through the pain in his knuckles in the ache of every breath, he knew it was real, it was very real. "You kissed me," he said finally, looking up at Dan with a look of respect. "You actually kissed me."  "After all that just happened, that’s what you’re thinking about?" Dan’s entire face was contorted by the smile, and he looked like such a wreck but Phil couldn’t care because there was no way he looked any better. "Sorry about that, by the way," Dan added, wiping some of the blood on his lips away. "I thought it’d be dramatic. Scare them off. Didn’t work that great."  "Yeah, no shit." Phil tugged on Dan's collar, pulling him close but stopping him before they actually collided. "Thanks. I appreciate it." He eyed Dan, the cut on his cheek, the split lip. "You look like a mess."  "You do too," Dan agreed. "I want to kiss you again."  Phil yanked him into another kiss, tasting of blood and exertion and sweat and a little bit like hot chocolate. "I’m not going to be able to stop," he admitted, halfway through the kiss.  "Its fine," Dan mumbled against his lips, not even bothering to pull apart. "I won't either."  They kissed for what could have been hours before Phil mumbled "My hand hurts," and they finally pulled away. ————-  "You’re doing so good!" Phil handed Dan his water bottle as he took his mouth guard out, wiping his sweat away from his forehead.  "Only a few more matches." Dan’s eyes had this far away look to them. He never had so much pride in anything but his competitions. It was one of the reasons why Phil insisted on coming every week.  Dan drank from the water bottle as someone jogged over, patting him on the back roughly. "Hey champ, nice match! Who’s this?"  Dan’s eyes sparkled as he looked at Phil. His lip had heeled, and the cut under his eye had faded, but he looked the same as he did the day they first kissed. Sweaty, with his hair plastered back away from his forehead, but so proud and happy Phil couldn’t help but smile.  "This is Phil. My boyfriend."  Phil’s heart literally fluttered in his chest.  "Oh yeah? Phil, do you box too? Bet I could find you a decent instructor, huh?" He nudged Dan’s side playfully.  Dan laughed. "Nah, Phil doesn’t box. The last time he punched someone, he broke his thumb. It’s a pretty good story though."  Dan’s friend's eyes widened with interest. He looked to Phil. "Oh yeah? Tell me."  "I don’t know, it’s a little crude. I doubt you can handle it," Phil teased.  "Oh come on, try me!"  "Well..." Phil tugged his bottom lip in between his teeth, looking at Dan as he tried to decide how mean he wanted to be. "It all started when Dan got sucked off by the most popular boy in school..."

12 Days Of Prompts Masterlist / Fic Masterlist / Request A Fic

[punkbuttt]

I’ve been going back and forth in my mind about whether or not to make a post about the days leading up to my grandfather’s death, mostly because a.) I don’t want to relive it, and b.) who else will even care, but I think it’s important so I’ll put it under a read more thing

We called my grandpa Popou; it’s greek for grandfather. He was one of eight children born to greek immgrants from Icaria. Anyways, he was scheduled to have open heart surgery on March 1st, and even though he was 89, and his health wasn’t great, no one seemed too concerned, at least that I saw. I was visiting my parents and brother president’s day weekend so my dad, Popou’s youngest son, suggested we go see Popou at the senior home where he was living since it would be my last chance before the surgery. His room had so many pictures, plaques, awards, etc. hanging up. He told me “All I have now are memories. Almost all these people are dead.” He told me about his favorite award, a certificate from his first wrestling tournament, which he won. (He was kind of a big deal in the wrestling world. Not WWE wrestling, but traditional wrestling) No one knew he went, not even his parents. He had to ask the officials of the tournament for the certificate to prove he had actually competed and won. He also told me about this flag he had. It was red and white, with 5 blue stars on it. He said each of the stars represented his brothers who had all returned alive from WWII. It was a miracle that his five brothers all came back. He didn’t know anyone else’s family who were that lucky. Popou kept asking my dad about the sugery; what day it was, what time, how long would the recovery be. I told him when he was recovered my dad would take him to Philly to come visit me. He’s from Pittsburgh so he always liked to tease me about living here. “You still like that city? You still living there? This is a Pittsburgh family!” I just wanted to give him something to look forward afterwards. He said he would. We said goodbye and he told me he was so happy he got to see me and that he loved me. I realized that he was scared of the surgery. But it still never crossed my mind that he would never wake up.

I feel so guilty because in the days leading up to his surgery, I didn’t really think about it at all. I didn’t even really have anything going on that week. I just... didn’t pay attention. Popou went into surgery on Thursday, March 1st. I don’t know what time exactly, but it was late morning I think. Around 4:30, I got a text from my dad saying that the surgery was taking longer than planned, and the doctors were keeping him on the heart and lung machines longer. He called like 10 minutes later and told me that the surgery itself went well, but for whatever reason, his heart was just not strong enough to beat on it’s own and the doctor’s were worried. The next day my mom told me I needed to get to the hospital, which is in Lancaster. I was supposed to go to a work event that night but obviously that wasn’t going to happen. The earliest train that wasn’t sold out was one at 8:15 pm, so I got a ticket and spent the rest of the workday internally freaking out. I had to walk back to my apartment in high winds and sleet. (I tried to call an uber or lyft but they were both around $30 for what normally would have been a $5 ride, and they also would’ve taken about 25 minutes to pick me up and it takes about that much time for me to walk anyways) I packed up some stuff for the weekend, and luckily I checked the status of the train I was supposed to take myself instead of relying on Amtrak’s delay alerts. All trains were canceled because of the weather. My brother volunteered to drive out to Philly to come get me, which freaked my mom out, but he did it anyway and got here without too much trouble. When my brother got here, he asked me if I was going to our neighbor’s funeral. I had no idea what he was talking about. Apparently my neighbor (I don’t want to use his name) had died in his home of a massive heart attack the previous Sunday. My mom, who tells me everything, didn’t tell me about this. I babysat this guy’s kids, watched all of his family’s animals when they went on vacation, and I had just seen him that last time I was in Lancaster.  That really caught me off guard.

So we got home without incident, and my dad was already asleep. That is unlike him. He usually stays up late, especially now that he’s retired, and normally would have waited up for us to get home. That alone told me something was not right. I just went to bed too. We all got up early the next morning and immediately went to the hospital. we had to be at my neighbor’s funeral that afternoon so we wanted to get to the hospital ASAP. On the way up to his room, we ran into my aunt and uncle, my dad’s sister and brother. The doctor had told them Popou was showing small signs of improvement, and they were going to clean out his incision the next day to give him more time to rest. My dad told me that Popou had all sorts tubes and machines attached to his body, so it would be overwhelming to see him like that. It was. I don’t like hospitals to begin with, so seeing someone I love and care about in that state was really hard. The last time I saw him he was telling me stories and cracking jokes. It was really, really hard. We hung out in the waiting room for a few hours with some relatives, occasionally going to his room to let him know we were there and he wasn’t alone. Eventually we had to leave to go to my neighbor’s funeral. That made everything worse. My neighbor was around the same age as my parents, and with everything going on with Popou, I started to become worried that this could happen to my parents. It still really scares me. I know it could happen to anyone and there’s nothing I can do about it but I’m really scared that will happen to my parents and I won’t even get to say goodbye.

Anyways, we went back to the hospital and more of my relatives were there. We all talked and reminisced and tried to keep our minds off of what was happening. One of my aunts pointed out that this was the first time all of Popou’s children had been together in years, so they took a picture together. Then my cousin came with all five of her kids. The ICU has a rule that kids under 12 are not allowed in the room, but she didn’t care. She started going off on the nurses about how important it was that her kids see him and they had no right to deny them from seeing their great grandfather. This was not long after one of the nurses told us that if any of those tubes became dislodged, Popou could bleed out in under a minute. And she thought it would be fine to bring young children who want to touch everything into his room. She got her way in the end, and when they came back to the waiting room, it was clear her kids were pretty traumatized. 

The rest of the night went by uneventfully, so we went home around 10pm. The next day we got to the hospital early again, but we didn’t get to see him before they took him to the OR to clean out his incision. So we waited again. My one aunt said that Popou would be so mad at them when he woke up, because they promised him he would be up by that Friday. Around one the doctor finally came out to talk to us and I think he was overwhelmed by how many of us were there. All six of Popou’s kids, two of their spouses, seven grandkids and three of their spouses and my brother’s girlfriend. The doctor said that they were cautiously optimistic about his improvement, but it would still be a while before they felt confident enough to take him off the machines for good. He also said that they didn’t want to keep him on the machines for too long, because neurological function would start to get worse the longer he was on the machines. The planned to try to take him off the machines that Tuesday, and hopefully he would improve. When he was ready, we visited him again. I noticed his arm swollen but otherwise he looked fine. We told him we would be back the next day, and left. 

The next day was Monday, and I had to get back to work. My dad and I went to the hospital to see him, and the doctors were still pretty happy with his improvements, even though they were small. Popou still looked a bit swollen, but the nurses said that was normal. After about an hour of visiting him and talking with one of my aunts, my dad took me to the train station. Normally he would just drive me back to Philly himself, but he obviously didn’t want to go too far from the hospital. Getting on the train was hard. When I sat down, my dad was looking through the windows for me and when he saw where I was sitting, he drew a smiley face on the window. I think that was his way of staying with me on the trip back. It made me feel better. 

I didn’t go to work that day. I was emotionally and physically tired. My sleep schedule was (and still kinda is) thrown off from not being able to sleep and having to get up early to get to the hospital. I basically just slept the rest of that Monday. I woke up Tuesday unusually early and couldn’t get back to sleep, so I just started getting ready for work. Around 9:30 that morning, I got a text from my dad that said “Popou is taking a turn for the worse. The nurse says it looks like his body is shutting down.” I called out of work (I was crying on the phone and it freaked out my co worker) and got a ticket for the next train to Lancaster. I called a lyft to take me to the train station, and on the way there, the driver hit a curb. Everything was fine but he was freaked out and said when we got to the train station he would have to check it out. I had my phone in my hand the whole time over just in case my parents tried to call me, and when I was getting out of the car, I thought I put it in my pocket. I didn’t. I took five steps into the train station and realized I didn’t have it. I ran outside because I thought the driver would still be there, making sure his car was ok, but he was long gone. So I went to customer service and explained (through sobs) that I left my phone in a lyft and I needed to use their phone to try to get in touch with someone to get my phone back. The women at Amtrak’s customer service were so incredibly kind and understanding and helped out so much. It turns out Lyft doesn’t really have a call center though, so the only way I could get a hold of them was through email. Luckily I had my laptop, and they actually responded pretty quickly. Also, on the receipt that is emailed to you, you can get in touch directly with the driver. It just took like a half hour for them to actually email that receipt to me. The customer service woman gave me the direct phone number of the customer service desk so the driver could get a hold of me directly, and luckily he did call and came back with my phone. There were no calls or messages so I took that as a good sign.

I had to get a later train because of the whole phone debacle, so I got back to Lancaster much later than I intended. My brother picked me up from the train station and we went straight to the hospital. My dad was in a meeting with his siblings and the doctor, deciding what exactly to do next. I think my mom and sister had gone fore a walk or something. When we got to his room, the first thing I noticed was how grey he looked. He looked so much worse. Part of me really wishes I hadn’t seen him that way. It’s going to be with me forever. His breathing was so... mechanical. I know he was on machines but it was like animatronics at Disney or something. It was too much. I finally found my mom and asked her what they were going to do next and she just shook her head. The doctor said they did everything they could and despite the surgery going well and the improvement he had made over the past few days, Popou wasn’t going to recover. It was just a matter of time now. 

I know he wasn’t young by any means, and his health prior to the surgery wasn’t great, but like I said, the thought that he wouldn’t make it through the surgery had never crossed my mind. I was shocked. I shouldn’t have been, but I was. It was and still is so hard to accept. He’d been around my whole life, and now he was about to be gone forever. 

My dad told us we didn’t have to be in the room when he passed, but I didn’t want to leave him alone and I don’t think my brother and sister did either, so we stayed with him. We waited. My one Aunt, who had power of attorney, didn’t want to wait too long, but my one uncle really wanted him to pass on his own, rather than turning off the machines. So we waited. At one point, my aunt played Happy Trails by Roy Rogers, which was Popou’s favorite song. He grew up in a greek orthodox church, and when he married his first wife, started going to a catholic church. When he moved out to Lancaster, my uncle and his wife started taking him to their evangelical church. When my one aunt and my dad asked for a priest to come give him last rites, my evangelical aunt and uncle were not happy about it. I don’t understand why. He was catholic for the majority of his life and went to their church because it was convenient. Anyways, the priest came, gave him last rites, and very, very soon after, Popou’s heart rate began to decline. It went from like 75 to 45 in a minute. I think maybe he was waiting for last rites to be performed. 

We told Popou it was time for him to go. He had to see his parents, his brothers and sister, his two wives, and his granddaughter, my cousin, Carmen. We sang to him and prayed for him and for us. His heart rate continued to go down, but not as fast. My one Aunt was getting impatient. She told my uncle he was being selfish she was giving him 10 more minutes and then she was telling the doctors to turn the machines off. My uncle said she needed to stop beating a dead horse and that he just didn’t want her to make that decision, he wanted Popou to choose to go by himself so she wouldn’t have to live with that. They fought for a couple minutes and my dad and other aunt had talk them down. It was already tense in there and while I understand both sides, I don’t think they needed to get nasty with each other right by their father’s death bed.

After another ten minutes, his heart rate was so low that the doctors knew the only thing keeping him ‘alive’ was the machines, so it was agreed they would be turned off. We said our final goodbyes, and it was so fucking surreal. Everyone was crying, obviously. he stayed with us for another few minutes. At one point, his eyes actually opened. I thought my dad was going to pass out. My aunt almost screamed. My uncle was calling out “Dad, come back”. It was such an indescribable moment. 

He passed away at 5:18 pm, March 6th, 2018.

Leaving the hospital after he passed was hard. I kept going back into the room, just to see him one last time. I accidentally went in when they were taking all the tubes out. I wish I hadn’t seen or heard that. I didn’t want to leave him there alone. I didn’t and still don’t like the thought of him going to the morgue. But I can’t stop thinking about it. My dad told us not to remember him like that, but to remember the good times. While there are so many good times to remember, I’ll never be able to get that out of my head. Still, I’m really glad I was there; I would have definitely regretted it if I hadn’t been. 

My mom suggested I make memory boards for Popou’s funeral, like I did when her mom passed in 2014. I didn’t want to at first because I knew my cousins had probably had some similar plan already. But my mom convinced me to do it anyways. I’m glad I did because it helped lessen those images of him in the hospital bed. But I also realized that I didn’t really have many pictures of myself and him. That’s really upsetting to me. I think it’s because of my extremely poor self image, which makes it worse. I always wish I hadn’t let that hold me back from taking pictures of myself on vacations or out with friends, and now it’s kept me from having pictures with my Popou. Everyone of my cousins posted all these pictures of them with Popou and I have none, except a few from when I was a kid. I don’t think I’ll ever get over that.

Popou’s funeral was in Washington, PA, or as he called it, Worshington. He grew up there, and he loved it. My dad showed us where his childhood home was (it was torn down to make room for a grocery store), his high school where Popou worked as a teacher and a wrestling and cross country coach, and the store/house where Popou grew up. He had to have a closed casket. He looked so bad in the hospital, and according to the funeral director, he looked even worse since then. That makes me so sad. We couldn’t even see him one last time, without all the tubes and everything.

At the wake, so many people told us how much he inspired, influenced, and supported them. I wasn’t really ever aware of how many people’s lives he was a part of, whether it was through teaching or wrestling. I heard so many stories about him. Whole wrestling teams of young kids who didn’t even know him showed up. It was remarkable. He was always just Popou to me. 

My dad spoke at his funeral service. He could barely keep it together. He said that the first year would be the hardest because we’d have to get through the first round of holidays and birthdays without our Popou. I’m worried about my dad. Since he was essentially forced into retirement by the school he taught for, taking care and visiting his dad kept him busy. Part of me wants to move back home just to cheer him up. His mental health has not been great since he’s retired and he’s not the type to go seek out help. He loved his dad so much. I love my dad so much. Going through this, seeing my dad go through this, was so hard. I’m so scared of the day I’ll have to be in my dad’s shoes.

Anyways, here, here, here, and here are some obituaries for Popou.

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