#maybe i should relapse to see how bad it was again. JOKING.

[autism-corner]

whateverr :3

[izzysarchivedblogs]

THIS IS RISKY. THIS WAS STUPID. THIS WAS BAD.

Clint's barely a month sober. Exactly thirty days. He just got the chip, and one of the things from even rehab was that he should FOCUS on himself. Don't jump into anything. CLINT'S VERY GOOD AT BLOWING THINGS UP. The hand thing is only further poof that despite the MUG INCIDENT, there was something still shimmering with him and Tony.

WHO HE THOUGHT A LOT ABOUT. Clint came up with a whole plan, talked himself into this idea that it could work out. He'd get out of the cast, he'd get more sober days until the belt, until he doesn't feel like he could relapse every and any day of the week. Mostly because every fucking thought he has makes him realize how much more serious he was about THIS. THAT. THE TENSION.

Didn't want either one to bled into the other and screw up. His sobriety was too fragile, what if things didn't work out for him with Tony? HE'D BE OKAY WITH A FRIENDSHIP, but what if anything fucks up that friendship.

YET HE FEELS. HE RELATES TO TONY. A bottle of liquid to make him woozy felt like it should be in his clutches. The plane was a trigger for Tony, and now that Clint's facing his own disease; he UNDERSTANDS, and he just wanted to offer the same sentiment of support that Tony's been showing him. And right now, he just wants to have a drink in his hand because it's what he would do.

Simple.

Clint knew what he was signing, it was intentional even if he does sign unintentionally, sign the wrong things just like he would misspeak sometimes. HE KNEW WHAT HE WAS TRYING TO OFFER.

A promise to talk about THAT and Clint had meant it later; he wasn't ready. SCARED. Felt like it would be best for both of him if Clint got himself settled in first. DIDN'T IMMEDIATELY SPIRAL AND GIVE UP.

I need to know you know what you did.

TONY'S SIGN IS MESSY, BUT HE HAS BEEN LEARNING. That's another rush to his heart. Clint would like DRINK right now, just numb the tingling in all his appendages.

❝ Talk? ❞ NERVOUS. SCARED. Can Tony hear and see the way Clint wants to sign and speak, I WANT A DRINK.

Now? NOW? At least this wasn't a sixteen hour plane fight, where he very much could have punched Tony cause his aggression was high and he had been jonesing for a drink. FIVE HOUR AND THAN TONY CAN DUMP HIM INTO THE HUDSON.

« I know what I did. » Clint looks down at his hands, he remembers holding it. The 'W' on the mug, yet in Simon's colors and style of his uniform. Did it mean West Coast Avenger, Wonder Man, or even Whackos as they were called by The Thing? TONY TOLD HIM WHAT IT MEANT.

I WANT YOU AROUND.

« ❝ I broke the mug from our West Coast days. ❞ » Signed and spoken. HE KNOWS IT.

Clint scratches at his skin, as he inhales and exhales. HE FEELS SAD. He was trying to get out the bug crawling in his skin, trying to soothe the panic without the alcohol. He can't numb it.

❝ I can't take that back. ❞ He can't unbreak the mug. I REALLY CAN'T TALK ABOUT THIS.

Clint's uncomfortable, this was the first of the many hard conversations. HE STILL NEEDED TO THANK TONY AGAIN FOR WHAT HE'S DONE FOR HIM.

He wants this friendship, and the possibility of whatever this something more tension. A relationship with feelings. FRIENDSHIP MORE IMPORTANT RIGHT NOW. So he supposes now is as good as time as any to try to earn that back.

Clint feels ill, has a headache. He could joke to Tony, that when he said HOLD HIM ACCOUNTABLE, he meant that Tony should let him make promises and let him procrastinate them for several days.

I promise to talk. SUDDENLY BECAME TALK NOW.

❝ If there was one thing I could change about everything that happened in that⸺⸻ ❞ He gets caught up, trying to find what to call that month's time of going after the Hood. ❝ BENDER⸻ Nothing else, still end up ⸺ ❞ He gestures around the room, signs the word « Here. » Clint means still take on the Hood, even if means Bryce dying which (maybe if he had changed the Mug incident than maybe Bryce wouldn't have died; maybe Tony would have intervened) or something else. STILL END UP HITTING ROCK BOTTOM AND ADMITTING HE'S AN ALCOHOLIC.

❝ I'd have just put it down, unbreak it and- and- our friendship. ❞

HE'S SEEN IT AS BROKEN. Their friendship, knew the symbolism of that stupid mug he stole. OUR MUG. He had called it theirs. A thing between them, which it had been. They use to fight over mugs for coffee back in the WCA villa all time.

drink. drink. drink. drink. drink.

Tony hadn't caught the whole sign given then Clint was talking and sitting beside him. He'd seen EMPTY and HAND. So he just assumed he was repeating back what Tony had said because he related to the feeling. The connection between that and the fact Clint had held his hand for a moment.

He pays more attention now though turning toward Clint so he can sign along with what he says. Only before he does, Clint's hand is on his again. An awkward pat this time and the fact it's so fucking awkward makes it the worst thing of all, because there is something between them, and maybe it was just fuck buddies, or antagonistic sex friends, but there had been something. And that doesn't just go away because someone got sick and lashed out.

The worst fucking part is the awkward hand tap makes Tony's mouth water.

The plane was a trigger for Tony wanting to drink, and apparently an awkward hand pat is a trigger for Tony wanting to make out with Clint.

Tony turns his hand to try and grab hold of Clint's but he's pulling it away and signing at him.

It takes him a second to mentally translate it and when his brain has processed it, his breath catches. He needs it. He needs the fucking conversation. He wants that awkward bullshit to be out of the way. But I PROMISE TO TALK isn't STARTING NOW.

"So talk," he said, signing along with it. "I need you to talk." Then he drops the verbal part and just signs. He's not even sure he's doing it completely correctly but he can't say it out loud. 'I need to know you know what you did.'

[capstoneyap]

Week 2, Sept 18 2024: Control

Make (draw)

Control is so easily lost. Control over one’s self is so hard to achieve. To get your body to do something while your mind won’t let you can be torturous. I should know. I go through with it every day. I procrastinate. I don’t mean to. I really don’t. I don’t like the feeling of stressing about the work I have to do while my body and mind won’t let me. They relinquish my control. My want to get stuff done early at the worst times. Leaving me stressed. All I can do is joke about it. Blame it on being lazy or even my ADHD. Jokes are the only means of control I feel like I have over my own mind. Completing other tasks that aren’t important in the moment make me feel more in control. But in the end, I lose control. I always do. I could blame myself. I do blame myself. If only I could have done stuff sooner. If only I hadn’t played that video game all day. If only I hadn’t doom scrolled my phone. If only I hadn’t continued writing pointless stories. If only I wasn’t constantly stuck in my own head. Maybe it is my fault. I’m not sure. I’m not sure if my ADHD is a good enough reason. Maybe it’s both my fault and the fault of something I cannot control. But that’s a paradox, is it not? I’m not sure. I’m not really sure of anything, in all honesty. But I think what saddens me the most was how good I felt like I was doing. I got stuff done early when school started. I was able to complete simple tasks until this week. I slipped. I fell a bit behind. It's disappointing. It's upsetting. Almost like a relapse. I guess this is what it is. This constant cycle of procrastination until you start doing well only to fall once again. Almost like an addiction. But what is that addiction? Procrastination itself? Or the elements that help me procrastinate? My phone? My gaming consoles? My writing? The worlds I like to go to in my head? Are all of them addictive substances? If so, how do I get clean? My phone, I can get rid of maybe. Set a timer. Delete apps I don't need. My consoles, I can also get rid of. My writing and daydreaming, I can just stop, but that's easier said than done. How do I get completely clean when the substance is my own head? Medicine? I honestly rather not. I heard not so good things about it. I don't want to lose control more than I already have. It’s a catch 22 or however the saying goes. Do I want the kind of loss of control to be my own head? Or do I want to risk losing control via medicine making me a zombie? For once, i'm sure of what to do. I don’t like taking medicine. It's a toxic trait of mine. If I believe I can power through it without medicine, I will. Besides, swallowing pills is tough. But I guess that's another way of having some control. A bad way but a way. 

(If you made it to the end of this, sorry for the ramble. I wanted to try something for this topic. While Control is the topic, the idea of loss of control seems more fitting for what I'm now curious about. The loss of control displayed through my little vent post, as I had decided to use the moment I was spiraling a little to write out my stuff. I wanted to see where this idea would take me if I…..well….let myself lose that said control a little. I wonder if I can somehow expand this a little.)

[truelove-kiss]

031123.1303.

So. I don't know what to do to deal with my emotions right now, but write. I think maybe putting all my feelings on text will make me less sad, less anxious, less on the verge of falling on depression once again. It's been almost a year since the last time I have had a depressive episode and I'm not looking forward to relapsing, I do not want to go back to that, to feeling numb and wanting to die. But I feel like I would like to die, or at least not be alive. I'm tired, I'm so so tired of feeling, of crying, of being like this.

Maybe I didn't think it through when I decided to start talking with T, maybe I should have actually thought about what a long distance relationship is like and if I would have the strength to face it. I guess at the beginning I just thought I was just being friendly - and having a LDR friend is nothing new to me. Then I was just being flirty - no harm done. And then it was like I had been hit by a car, the being in love car, one day I was normal - just texting my friend who I played with and shared reels with - and then I saw him on a video call and I knew I was in love. I don't even know how...

As the months passed it got harder but it was bearable, at first it was just video calls at night, then longer and longer calls, then we started falling asleep without hanging up...and finally we were on call all day almost everyday. And as the weeks passed I began to feel sadder and sadder about not being able to touch him or kiss him, that if any of us felt bad or was having a hard time we couldn't console each other with physical touch, not being able to have sex...

But now that I have seen him in person, met him, realized how great we are together in real life, how in sync we are, have our little inside jokes and secret handshake...now that I know how he kisses, how I feel when I am in his arms, how is it like when I say something and he looks at me joyful and full of love and pulls me close to say I love you...now that I know all that it feels unbearable to be without it. I feel like I'm just going through the motions but my heart is not in it cause I left it with him. I don't know how am I supposed to bear this for years. I'm angry at God for doing this to me. Why? Why make us be so close but so far away? Why make us meet when there's still many years left of life and growth we have to face before we are able to live together?

I am so anxious about it all. I don't know if everything is going to be fine. I hope so but I have this terrible feeling that we won't make it till the finish line, even if I do everything I can and give everything that I am for it to happen. I start getting this thoughts that he's not going to come visit me in the future, that I will go away to do my master's without having met him again. I get scared that I will be kept waiting wherever I end up...and he's going to tell me that we won't come. That all the waiting and feeling like this - like my heart is not even here - will be for nothing.

I don't know how to go back to normal - the normal before having met him in person. I don't know how am I supposed to settle for seeing him on my screen and nothing more.

I wish I could skip forward in time. I wish I could be sure everything will turn out fine. I wish God would help me bear this, that he would give me a sign about all of this. Please.

[mel235532]

Bad person

And there it is again. The emptiness came back. I mean I'm not sure I should define it as "feeling empty" there are many things in my head that make that "emptiness", crying myself to sleep became so common that I started wondering if I was even real. I feel like this is all a routine we had already planned before we were born. Maybe it's in my head because I can't stop thinking about "what if". I've stopped dreaming which is most likely even defining my emptiness I have nothing to wonder about. I feel weird, I don't want to hang out with anyone nor do I feel like talking to anyone anymore. I became too tired to study I feel like I'll fail this school year. But I can't let myself fail, I mean this year is the last year at school. I feel like I'd be better at a new school, but at the same time, I wonder if it would actually get better. I mean I have known these people for almost my whole life and soon were splitting? I don't like them very much but they don't like me either, and what if I'm gonna be friendless at the new school. What if. It's haunting my head. I can't stop feeling empty but at the same time I can't stop wondering WHAT IF. Walking in the halls makes me feel so empty, I feel quiet even tho I'm surrounded by bustling noises made by many other students I probably won't ever meet. They all seem so sweet. They probably think I'm weird. I mean it's fine if they think that, I'm used to it anyway. I feel like a side character in my own life, I keep thinking everything I do is wrong. I keep humiliating myself to these random people I'll never meet. It's fine, I won't ever meet them, will I? I don't want them mentioning whatever thing I did embarrassing or even worse making jokes about it, I mean sure you find it funny but have you ever spotted that emptiness in my face? I'm so empty I have to fake a laugh with my friends, I'm getting tired of everyone and everything, but I don't know how to explain it. I like my friends but I feel like I don't need anyone, but at the same time I think I need more people. There is no one to comfort me so I'm always left on my lowest. I'm not even sure if I'm sad because I don't feel anything I mean call it sad even depressed I don't care. I don't know what's wrong with me but I keep relapsing and it makes me feel shitty. It feels badass and comforting but soon enough I start regretting it "What if everyone sees it? Will they think I'm even weirder?" I'm not sure what I should feel. Am I really the bad person?

[leafboy-the-great]

OK time for tips for u and others cuz I care abt u and others <3333

This is gonna be basic-ish but look up techniques to be healthier (mentally and/or physically). Its REALLY tough, and many techniques might not work, but that doesnt mean you cant think outside the box. Create new techniques just for yourself, get technique inspo from online, combine techniques together and see if itll work, ect.

Mindset. Mindset is key (for some reason idk ur brain can be dumb). Even sui jokes can be bad because your brain cannot differentiate the difference between fake and real, and it also proves why positive affirmations work

Take a break. It doesn't matter what, but take a break from literally whatever. Now this might have to make you dig a little deeper into what is making you stressed, and once you figure it out you're gonna have to go on from there. But be careful, you do not want to accidentally trigger yourself

I know you're ND, so I would like to make a word of caution for you. Not all techniques will work if you're not neurotypical. Example; a neurotypical might find comfort in walking outside in broad daylight, but a neurodivergent person might have a meltdown, a shutdown or just simply get overwhelmed.

Literally learn yourself. All the time people on these mental health blogs give good advice but I dont see them say "get to know yourself." Getting to know yourself can be horrific, its taking me years and I still dont understand much, but even a few peices can still make a difference

Self therapy. No one will no you better than yourself (usually at least lmfao). Becone a psychology nerd and learn types of therapy symptom of the disorders you have, it can help on how to help yourself

TAKE UR TIME!!! I'm still healing myself and it's taken years. It ain't easy but it isnt impossible

Last but not least: think outside the box. Self healing isn't just a box you can fit yourself in. Its complicated and hard, and it sucks. But sometimes making your own techniques for yourself and realizing it works is such a simple step but that doesnt mean it isnt inferior. You will relapse at times, you will feel horrible and think things arent working, and that's completely normal to feel. As long as you get yourself up again and keep working on it, it'll become like clockwork

I just really hope you can take at least a little advice from this

Sincerely, some random ass kid whose been doing self therapy for years

Haha thank you my friend ❤️

We also do in-system therapy sessions sometimes with Marisol. Maybe we should do it more often.

I'm relatively in a good mood today but im definitely gonna go take some care of myself

Ilysm blitzy you're amazing

[fakeloveaskblog]

I'm banning myself from ever interacting with any car ever now /lh

Also when I was reading the update a mixture of will wood and Heather's was playing so it matched the vibe adequately)

Hi Janus, looking fabulous as usual. Hey, fun idea, if you're not busy of course, I think you, remy and remus should do something together again. You all like each other and I think it would be nice (your choice though).

Hey remy! I'm here for moral support and advice. For the moral support, maybe mayhaps try driving a tad safer (I can help if you wish) and just try...being as much as yourself as you can whilst you're high. No judgment, I promise, just great concern for you. I think you're a good person and in no way a bad friend, please do not worry.

Hi Remus, I bring offerings in the shape of mouse skull jewellery, seeing as I haven't talked to you for a g e s. Genuine question though, are you alright? There are lots of changes and memories going on, and remember does seem a little...unstable. Do you need anything? At all? Maybe a mini too hat so we match?

((Also, I would love it if Oswalds snail problem gets worse and worse :]))

🐌🕸

(All the art described in this is based on real art pieces so I'll have a list of credits at the end)

Janus was in the middle of grocery shopping when you appeared in his cart. He put the cereal he was holding right next to you before saying.

"You're sitting on my quinoa"

He lifted you up and sat you on the store shelf between two cereal boxes before straightening your hat.

"Much better" When you spoke he nodded along with a calm smile "I think I can find time to spend time with them. I have a busy schedule right now. Between slaying the queen and generally slaying, it's a hard life to be me" He let out a chuckle at his own joke "I am actually very available and I would love to be with them"

"I found the eggs" Logan interrupted. He placed a box of eggs in the shopping cart before diligently crossing it off his shopping list. "Greetings Snail" He added.

Janus snaked their hand around his arm and Logan pressed a quick kiss to the top of their head. The notification sound for their phone went off and they quickly checked.

"It's Remy. Seems that Snail simply wanted to butter me up. They're wondering if I would enjoy an evening of karaoke clubbing" They looked up at their boyfriend "Want to come?"

"Coming is one of my favorite activities" Logan replied fully serious "I would gladly come along. I can be the resident driver"

"I'll tell them. Want me to go fetch the lettuce now?"

"Oh please do! It's half price!"

--

This time you appeared in the bathroom sink of Remus' apartment. You peaked over the side of the sink and saw Remy sitting on the floor. They were holding a mirror to shave, doing it while standing up took too much energy.

There was no obvious beard growth that actually needed shaving, they just had to do it the moment the thought of gross hair growing on their face entered their mind. You caught them tracing their hand along their jaw down to the adams apple and back up to their hair, trying out a few different ways to style it. All while grimacing at themself.

They squinted up at you "Girl did you just suggest that you would help me drive even tho you're like a snail....without arms!....You may have a point! Tho I think I'm like gonna try not to like drive at all"

As you continued they got the same look on their face they had gotten the day before when another watcher had talked to them about their relapse. They lowered the mirror and sat the electric shaver away to look up at you.

"...thanks....i wasn't like expecting people to like....not judge me....i didn't...i'm not used to people like being concerned about me if they don't like also yell at me about how being concerned about me is like causing them pain.......I'm a really really awful person...and a bad friend.....so it's nice to hear at least someone doesn't think that....thanks"

You had successfully delivered your message so you got down from the sink and left the bathroom. Since you're a snail you're quite slow so it's a good thing that you're also a master at roller skating. You rolled to the kitchen and knocked right into the back of Remus' leg.

He picked you up while saying hello before setting you on the counter where an array of sandwiches had been laid. It was lunch for the artpark day. He'd mixed mustard and tube caviar on his sandwiches while he'd simply given Remy cheese.

A loud gasp left his lips as the mouse skull jewelry landed right on the cheese. He picked it up and inspected it while letting out several Wows!

You asked if he was alright and he nervously twirled the jewelry around his wrist. He kept his hands busy with preparing the sandwiches while thinking of what to respond. 

He sighed “I...guess I’m not....remembering has always been unstable I just managed to hide it ‘cause I’ve lived alone...So many memories are blurry I’m constantly scared I’ll remember something...I don’t wanna remember anything more....”

The coffee machine started to ring to show it was done. He went over to it and simply let the smell of newly brewed coffee wash over him. It reminded him of Remy, it kept him grounded.

"....you are kinda right though. Living with someone 24/7 is making it worse...I had to become a very strange shape to fit in what made me safest around...him...and now when I'm with Remy my brain keeps wanting to revert back to what kept me safe but I know Remy is safe! I know that! But my brain won’t shut up about it!"

He finished up the sandwiches and packed them down into a box. His hands shook ever so slightly as he did it.

"I constantly have this feeling that at any time it will happen again. it's so fucking daunting...." He managed to force on a tired smile to show he appreciated the company “A matching hat does sound nice. I wish you could pick my brain out of my skull as well. A part of my thoughts is constantly occupied with fear, it gets real fucking tiring....I don't wanna feel him no more"

Remus let out a sigh and fiddled with the mouse skull to distract himself. He moved to the cupboard where his and Remy's daily medicine were.

--

A few hours later the bus stopped outside the art park. Around it were vast green acres where cows roamed and wheat grew. Remus had had a hayday during the entire bus ride since he got to yell out “COW!” over and over again.

Remy lowered their sunglasses and glanced around the entrance of the park “Not seeing any a- Is that a fucking castle?!”

“I think that’s just a fancy house”

“Giiirl I think we accidentally took the bus to like the regency period. It happens more often that you think. Time traveling buses I’m telling ya”

Right next to the entrance was the gift shop and a small cafe. Behind the roof the top of the fancy house could be seen. It belonged to the rich people who technically owned the park, they had just decided to loan the land out to preserve art.

There wasn’t that many people, only a few couples, maybe a family here and there. Probably because it was a cold day. Not cold enough to stop Remy from wearing a skirt but cold enough for them to put on long fuzzy socks. Remus had wired the mouse skull jewelry around their cane for good luck and mouse strength.

Remy reached out their long arm as they passed the gift shop and snatched a map showing where all the art was located in the park. They handed it to Remus who squeeled when he looked at it.

“How many ghosts do you think lives in the fancy house?” He asked.

“Liiiike 4 at least. Tons of drama!! Probs even like a love triangle”

“Love square”

“Oooh girl. Speaking my language”

“SPOOKY BARN!!” Remus exclaimed while pointing at a dubious looking barn that stood next to the gift shop.

He shook Remy’s arm around while pulling them along towards it. There were no people in the barn aside from them and the only light was coming in from the open barn door. Heavy breathing filled the barn. 

The sound enveloped them. Weak uneasy breathing. Like a wounded animal laying on the side of the road and yet so hauntingly human. Quickening heartbeats continued in the background.

Mirrors covered the floor in front of them. The reflective surface seemed to have grown up from the floor and stuck onto the wall. It reflected the wood ceiling that looked like it had stood there for hundreds of years. Like a church thrown out into the woods.

Remus grinned and waved at himself in the mirror “I think this is the first art piece!!”

Remy sincerely squinted “Bestie sorry to break it to you but I’m not seeing any like art. Where’s the painting?”

“Beanie...Sweet beanie filled with layers of skin and blood and at least 3 bones...Did you think they were going to hang paintings outside? Where it rains and the wind blows?”

They shrunk in on themself while nodding.

Remus’ smile widened even more “That’s a really nice thought” His hand reached out for their’s and their fingers intertwined “It’s a sculpture park Beanbog. Some installation and performance stuff too I’m guess. Should have figured that wouldn’t be obvious to non art freaks” 

“I’m just like stupid”

“And I’m ready to get on these bitching mirrors!”

“That’s allowed??”

In response Remus simply pulled them along. He took a first step out on the mirror and squeezed their hand to make them follow. They left the cane on the ground and snaked their free hand around his upper arm to keep themself stable.

The breathing coming from the speakers all around them quickened. They started to become desperate as the heart beat faster and faster.

“Maybe there’s a sensor under the mirrors” Remus theorised “So the audio changes the more people walk on it”

They walked further and Remy looked down at the floor. At the shape of their hands tightly together being reflected back to them with the ceiling behind them. The audio made it feel like the barn was a body that had swallowed them.

Remus took a few steps back to test out if it would change anything but the breathing just kept getting more ragged. A family walked into the barn and for a moment Remy wondered if they should move away from Remus before they felt his thumb softly rub back and forth against their skin.

One last desperate breathe echoed through the room before the audio slowly cut out. For a few seconds it was quiet before ambient music started up. 

“Augh it’s just a looping audio tape” Remus muttered “Still cool! Ready to continue?”

“Sure”

Their hands stayed together as they left the barn and continued down the stony walkway. Remus pointed out an Installation in the trees and got so focused on ti Remy had to pull him away from walking right into a wall. 

On the other side of the wall was a garden of trees blossomed with white leaves. Beyond the trees was an open picket fence showing the true entrance to the meat of the park. The forest with the massive lake in the middle.

When they got closer to the trees they saw the leaves were small paper notes clipped to the branches. Next to the art work there was a sign saying to make a wish.

“Girl the counselor at my old school wanted my whole class to do this” Remy commented. “She like reeeaally wanted it to be deep or something secret so I wished for a guy in my class to fall face first onto the ground so all his teeth got knocked out. Apparently that was ‘violent’ and I had to like go to the principal or whatever”

Remus let out a sinister laugh “The principal was just too afraid of your huge dick energy my guy”

They quietly agreed to simply walk past the art work even though it was literally made by Yoko Ono. Probably the most famous artist in the park. 

Among the trees and in them were a few statues. Even though there were little signs next to them explaining the artist’s intent Remy didn’t get any of it, but they were happy to listen to their crush’s theories on what it meant anyway. 

They walked between two bushes and ended up next to the lake. They continued right in between two parts of a statue and traced the edge of the lake. Near a statue made of rust Remus suddenly sat down right on the leaves and smoshed his face into the ground.

“Is this like an art thing I’m not getting?” Remy asked while looking at him.

“SNAIL!!” He yelled back as he held up his hands. On his palm sat a tiny snail that was retreating into it’s shell “A small one! We need to bring it on an adventure! It’s gotta become cultured!!”

“Let the snail be a bimbo if it wants”

Remus made a showing of leaning his ear right next to the snail and nodding “It says it wants to go on an adventure!!”

Remy shrugged before picking up a leaf from the ground and folding it into a hat. They put it on the top of the shell and smiled at it. Remus took ahold of their hand again and grinned at them.

Every time they saw an art piece Remus would hold the snail up so it could see. All of the words on the information sheets were blurring together for him because of the noises of the people walking so Remy read every sheet aloud for him and the snail.

“And That’s the next art thingie my dear Snail!” Remus explained while pointing.

“Babe that is literally a bench”

“Oh....Well you never know?”

Remy squinted out at the lake before saying “Would be pretty cool to like set a dress on the water. Like so the skirt is all flared out but the bust is upright y’know”

“Dude!! That’s such a cool idea. And then the flies and birds would slowly eat away at it to show how fast fashion gets destroyed under capitalism !!! MuHHAHAHAHAH!!”

“I was just like thinking of how good Fka Twigs dress looked in like one of her videos” They sputtered out while fiddling with their hair.

“Still cool!!”

“Would be even cooler if the dress then got like lit on fire I guess maybe I dunno”

“Even cooler!! You’re on a roll!!

The moment he turned around to show the snail the next thing Remy’s cheeks lit up like a christmas light from blushing. Remus suddenly started to pull in their hand harder as he saw a large stack of logs. It was if a lumberjack had simply forgotten to stow them away. Until Remus got too jumpy and ran ahead with the snail to look at the other side of the logs.

“PIG!” He exclaimed.

“Shit! FUCK! IS THERE A COP?” Remy immediately yelled back.

“No! Literal pig!”

Remy rounded the log mound and saw that the different patterns of the log stumps when fitted together created a pattern that perfectly looked like a pig.

“That sure is a pig”

“Glorious” 

“Is it like trying to say something bout one piece of nature being like molded into another piece of nature but like the animal kind?” Remy guessed.

“I think that sounds plausible! And it looks cool enough it may even be deserving of being the snail’s new home!” He moved his ear near the snail again “What do you say small gooey friend? Wanna reside here? Become a part of the art?”

Remy whispered a quiet “yeeees” which made their crush laugh.

He went up to the log statue and sat the snail on one of the tree trunks. One near the ground where leaves and a bit of rain water had gathered. He blew it a kiss goodbye before taking his friend’s hand again and skipping away.

A straight couple was walking not that far ahead of them. The couple had gotten there later than them but with Remy’s cane and the unstable ground they weren’t exactly going fast.

An echo of a yell bounced between the forest tops but Remus didn’t think about it as he instead whispered out to his friend “What kinda couple do you think they assume we are?”

Remy let out a snort “Fags. Def”

“I’m betting on just like really weird lesbians”

“Oh my gosh girlie!! You’re so right! Walking in a forest is like such a lesbian thing to do!-”

Another distant yell echoed. It was the voice of a young girl yelling out after her mom. Immediately afterwards a similar yell came from somewhere behind them. The couple in front of them jokingly yelled back “Mom! Mom!” before bursting into laughter.

“What if we just like stumbled into a horror movie” Remy said while twirling their hair around their finger “Wouldn’t that be hot or what”

“That would be really cool. Spooky scary little girl?”

“More like a child ghost army”

“Oh I like your thinking” Remus replied while looking up at the trees. He suddenly pointed up at a branch “There! A speaker. Waitttttt”

Soon enough a yell from a young boy echoed out calling for both of his parents right from the direction of the tree.

“Sooo like instead of walking into a horror movie we walked into art instead. I think I like like it. It’s spooky kinda” 

Remus made the noise equivalent of “!!!” while shaking their arm around “I’m glad you like it!!”

The yells continued all the while they walked through a path filled with pine that had fallen from the trees. Eventually they too started to yell back at the child voices which the other couple noticed. The four of them grinned at each other before all letting up into a choir of barely contained laugh yells.

A few droplets of sweat rolled down Remy’s forehead as the hand they held the cane with was beginning to shake. They didn’t say anything of course but Remus noticed and as soon as he saw the next patch of sculptures, one of which was a large clam made out of concrete. And by large he meant Large. He pulled them along to it.

He took a big step up onto the sculpture and spun around to help his friend up as well. He did a gracious splat right onto the concrete and pressed his entire face down into it’s gravel. Remy laid down beside him on their back and stretched out their shoulders. A soft whine left their lips as their back cracked.

“I reeeeeaally needed some floor time. Thanks girlie”

“My brain feels like it’s growing” Remus said with a fully serious tone “Like an alien baby in my head!”

“You haven’t like eaten any random ass berries have you?”

“Nuhuhuhu! Dear Beanie! It’s the art!! It’s expanding my brain!! This is why I love going to art museums ‘cause like I gotta use so much brain power to understand what the art means my brain gets all muscular and once I figure it out I get this satisfying brain feeling! Like when you beat a game of chess you know?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never like won chess”

“Me neither!!”

Remy turned their head to look at him “Wanna like show of your bulging brain muscles by like explaining what the hell some concrete in the woods is supposed to mean?”

“Elementary Beanie! It’s because.....Gimme a minute”

 He scrunched his eyes closed and made random noises to signal he was thinking. Remy reached out their hand and took his. They pressed a kiss to his knuckles and mumbled out that it was to make him think better.

“Maybe it’s just to mark that whoever made it was here?” Remus said.

“Hah amateur! If I wanna mark that I’m somewhere I simply walk into the room and Work bitch by Ms. Spears instantly starts playing! Easy!” 

“No I mean like....So there was this forest obviously but then they had to have brought in like machines and stuff to create this concrete Thing! And now it’s a part of the forest! It has moss on it and everything! It’s like terraforming! That’s my theory at least”

Remy moved their leg back and forth to feel the concrete’s harsh texture against their bare skin “Yeah...I think I get it...Sometimes you just want reassurance that you exists even outside of like yourself” They let up into a half hearted chuckle “Most days I just want Viv to like come back and strangle me so I know I’m still real”

“Exactly. I’m scared if I don’t focus hard enough I will realize I’m already dead and I didn’t notice I died y’know? I feel much more like some floating brain entity than a living being I might as hell have died by splattering my body into thousands of pieces on rocks!!”

Remy shrugged “Living is overrated anyway. Being a zombie is like suuuuper in this season. Zombies is like the new black”

“Wisdom to live by!!”

Remus gave their hand another squeeze before sitting up and taking out a box of sandwiches from his bag. He held one out to Remy who propped their head up with the leather jacket to avoid actually having to sit up while eating. Along with the sandwiches Remus pulled out his sketchbook. He chewed on his lunch while drawing. 

“That one looks like a penis” Remy said while pointing up at a cloud. 

They glanced away from the sky and looked at their crush. They let up into a joking smile when they saw he was drawing. They did a playful pose while tipping their sunglasses down.

“Drawing me like one of your sexy demons ey?”

Remus put his hand directly on their forehead and pushed them back to laying down “No moving from the sexy demons please”

“Alright alright!”

Remy laid back down and went back to cloud watching. The sound of the pencil moving across the page made their chest feel warm for some reason. The only sounds aside from the pen were the rustling of the leaves and distant footsteps.

It was so quiet, so still, so peaceful. Their thoughts filled with the watcher’s reassuring words. The thoughts mixed with the warmth and they took a deep breathe.

“...I lied to you yesterday...” Remy mumbled out eventually.

Remus barely even looked up from the drawing. He already knew they’d lied but he gave them time to speak.

“...I was...I was like high yesterday...you weren’t wrong...I was like scared...I thought you would like get mad at me for being like stupid enough to do that stuff around you...I’m sorry...”

Remy managed to look over to him. Remus set aside the sketchbook and gently put his hand against their arm, their skin warmed by the sun. He leant his forehead against their shoulder for just a moment to comfort them.

“Thanks for telling me” 

“I’m sorry for-”

“I didn’t tell Rowan for years. I get it Beanie. Don’t worry”

He could feel Remy’s body relax as if a weight that had been laying on their chest had finally been taken away.

“The watchers said they could help. So I like I at least take it in like a safe way” Remy continued. 

“That’s good. That’s really nice of them......Do you...Do you feel ready to stop?”

Remus held their hand in his and looked into their eyes. He let them think about it for however long they needed. Eventually they weakly shook their head.

“That’s okay. That’s okay. I’ll...We’ll keep you safe okay? I’m not gonna let you hurt yourself okay?”

“I’m not gonna let you get hurt either”

“When you’re ready do you think you could stay at rehab while going through withdrawal? I know it can be traumatic as shit to get forced there but I don’t want you to like spill your guts out or anything”

“I’ll try”

“That’s all you have to do. Is it- Do you like- Are you okay with Janus knowing?”

“You think they’d be mad?”

“Janus? Our Janus?” Remus scoffed “I don’t think he’s able to get mad at you. He’s down too bad”

“I....I think you might be right....I’ll think bout it”

Remus leant forward and kissed them on their forehead before stroking their hair behind their ears. They held their arm lightly behind his waist.

“Are you high right now? You don’t have to answer”

“Only took my pain meds”

“Okay.....” Remus kissed them again, on their cheek “I think you’re my best friend” 

“You’re mine too” 

“I don’t think I wanna be an artist anymore”

Remy did a double take “What?”

Remus did a triple take “Sorry!! we were like sharing secrets and stuff! It just kinda fell out of my mouth!”

“I mean girl it’s fine. I like sewing don’t mean I wanna live by sewing”

He picked up his sketchbook again just to fiddle with the corner of it “I do wanna make art. I just dunno if I wanna draw”

“Oh no” Remy’s eyes turned huge, actually a bit like a sad kitten “Don’t tell me you’re gonna like hurt yourself like the lady you showed me yesterday did!? I just said I wouldn’t let you hurt yourself!!! Including for art!!”

“No. No! That’s performance art. I was thinking like installation? Maybe sculptures? I wouldn’t want to be present. I don’t want people looking at me” He saw the confused look on Remy’s face and added “Installation is like...What we saw in the barn! or the speakers in the trees yelling mom. It’s like the art becomes a tangible space the viewers can walk into y’know?”

“I think I get it....Like a haunted house?”

“YEAH!!!” Remus happy flapped “Like a haunted house!”

“Why wouldn’t you like do that” Remy gasped “GIRL. Don’t tell me installations are like illegal? Are we in an illegal installation park?”

“I was just worried...people would say I was wasting my talents...People always said Ro-Ro would be wasting hers if she didn’t make it big”

He looked down at the drawing he had done of his crush. He trailed his finger across the paper before showing them. They let out a gasp and a few soft compliments. They looked so much more beautiful than they thought they actually were.

“I can’t stop seeing his face in my drawings” It came out nearly as a whisper.

Remy looked up from the drawing “What?”

“Os...Even when I was drawing you I could only....I saw his features....I am genuinely interested in like installations but I also just....I don’t wanna see him in what I love....He drove me to all my art classes...Paid for them...I would draw him all the time....I can’t unlearn his face”

They bonked the sketchbook lightly against his head “Well after now having learnt like toooots sooo much about art I can conclude that like installations are just so much more sexy and cool anyway! Drawing? Pff! More like draw-sucks!”

It made him let up into a laugh.

“You got any like ideas for installations and stuff?” Remy tilted their head as they asked.

Remus looked just a bit flustered as he took the sketchbook and flipped through the pages. He showed off a few sketches of sculptures and a few half finished story boards for short art films.

“I haven’t developed them much and with the films I really don’t wanna be shown in them and i don’t really want my famous ass sis to act in them”

“I Have no idea what any of this means. Compels me though” Remy said while looking at the pages “I’m not against like being on screen” They jokingly posed “I’m like sooo good at being pretty and cute and arm candy I would be like super good in a film. Especially if I’m playing the like bimbo who gets killed. I can’t play the final girl though I’m sooorry. My range isn’t That large”

“It’s not that kind of film but I like your enthusiasm!! Augh” He continued to happy stim “This is exciting!! Maybe if our art turns out good we can involve Janny as well!!”

Him calling it ‘Our art’ made that same warm wave fill Remy’s entire body. A shiver went up their spine and they grinned without even noticing at first.

“Whatever you want girlie! I’m also open for like kissing sceneeesm Just fyi.....especially if Janny gets involved”

Remus pretended to twirl his nonexistent mustache while thinking “Hmmm should we continue looking through the park or should we go create art...That is the question....I can’t decide ‘cause I have rats for brains and bees in my ass. You?”

Remy shrugged. They had no idea about anything today. They were just along for the ride.

“Okay well” Remus moved his hands around while repeating swear words over and over to somehow open the void. That didn’t work so he just yelled out loud “WATCHERS!! PARK OR ART? PLEASE AND THANK YOU! I HAVE NEVER MADE A SINGLE GOOD DECISION IN MY LIFE AND I REFUSE TO START NOW!”

Credit in order of mention: Kimsooja - To breathe Yoko Ono - Wish tree Hannelie Coetzee - The old sow between the trees Marianne Lindberg De Geer - I am thinking about myself Jene Highstein - Grey clam

[holdyourbreathuntilyouseelight]

Hothead

Summary:  Extended station scene from 1x03 between Carlos and TK, from Carlos' POV. A snapshot of how they started to mend things between them after TK had stormed out on the date that Carlos had tried to spring on him.

Rating: General Audiences

A/N: I do not pretend to know anything about the inner workings of a police station, their rules and regulations or what sort of things are contained in their reports. Tried to be as realistic as I could but apologies for any inaccuracies.I also do not claim any ownership of 9-1-1 Lone Star or the associated characters. Pretty sure they own me instead... (:

First foray into the 9-1-1 fandom but hopefully not the last!

Read on AO3 here.

* * *

Carlos was flipping through the files on his desk, making sure he had signed off on the last of them, when a familiar name being spoken caught his attention.

"TK Strand, yeah. He's a firefighter with the 126. Guess he got a little hot-headed."

"You can't keep reusing the same joke every time something involves a firefighter, Ben, seriously."

Carlos looked up from his desk to see two of his colleagues ribbing each other, all talk and no malice.

Jill was right – Ben liked to reuse the same heat-related jokes about firefighters, but his curiosity was peaked over the implication in regards to TK.

"What's that about one of the 126 firefighters? Did they get hostile at a scene we were at or something?"

The two cops looked over at him in surprise. He wasn't normally one to join in on gossip.

"Nah, he was off duty. Started a fight at a bar. Provoked two built men that were drunk off their asses. Bartender called it in after security tried breaking it up."

Carlos felt his worry double. What was TK doing? Why was he picking a fight? He knew he had freaked out on him the other day, making it clear there was a lot more going on internally than he was letting on, but volunteering to get pummeled? That had to be a cry for help.

"EMS clear him?"

"Yeah, he's fine, just some cuts and bruises. He's cooled off now; just gotta process him, give him back his shit, and do the usual stern warning that means bull."

Carlos seized the presented opportunity, hoping Ben would take the bait. "Hey, if it's that easy, why don't I take over? Your shift just ended and I owe you for staying late when I had my abuela's birthday to run to. I've finished the last of my reports from that three car pile-up earlier, so I'm free."

"Well, me and Ella were supposed to do date night tonight… yeah, all right, Reyes. He's all yours. Thanks, man."

"Of course. Have a good time." Carlos said, trying to play it off casual, like it was no big deal, even though he was itching to corner TK and ask what the hell he was thinking. He didn't need his coworkers knowing details about his private life so it was better they didn't know he knew the guy more intimately than professional overlap.

"I think you still owe Spencer, Reyes. Pretty boy is easy on the eyes, even if he is an idiot who started a bar fight." Officer Porter teased.

Carlos didn't bite; the station knew he was out, at least most of them did, so it wasn't that weird of a comment. Reacting would only make it obvious that something had gone on between them and he didn't need a lecture from the sergeant on duty about professional conduct or bias.

Ben passed over the folder on his way to his desk. Carlos immediately sifted through it, scanning the pages quickly to learn the basics of what had gone down.

Caucasian male, mid-to-late twenties, athletic build. 0.0 BAC on breathalyzer test. No abnormalities on basic toxin screen. No prior records with APD. No registered fingerprints in American database. New York driver's license – Tyler Kennedy Strand. Firefighter identification lists station 126. Charges of assault and disturbing the peace dropped by others involved. Release from policy custody with warning.

He read further through the other two men's files, piecing together that the story detailed matched what he had already been told.

Carlos looked up as another one of his colleagues led a handcuffed TK to his work desk and nodded in his direction. He accepted the plastic bag of TK's belongings from Jill and headed over to his… well, he didn't really know what they were.

He watched as TK held an ice pack to his temple, the odd cough wheezing out of him. He probably had a bruised rib or two, if not fractured, and it no doubt left his chest extra tight.

Carlos strode over and dropped the plastic bag of belongings onto the desk without a word.

TK looked up and groaned at the sight of him. "Seriously?"

Carlos grimaced as he sat down. "Austin's a small town, TK. Or should I say, Tyler Kennedy."

"Ugh." TK grumbled, eyes closed as he kept the ice pack against the side of his head.

"Bummer about getting arrested – people might find out your real name. Which marks the first actual thing I've learned about you."

Being good with his mouth, hands, and body notwithstanding…

"Isn't your processing me, like, a conflict of interest?" TK asked, a thin shred of hope clinging to the words.

It wasn't really an issue, given that Carlos hadn't been the deciding officer on charges and, technically, he wasn't even sure what their relationship could be classified as in order to consider it. If anything, it would be their definable working relationship that was the issue, but most officers in the precinct would have the same problem since they all crossed paths at one time or another on the job.

Carlos chose not to answer him, instead changing the subject. "The good news is that neither of your new friends want to talk about that little scuffle tonight…" he explained while unlocking the cuffs around TK's wrists, trying not to react when their hands brushed in the process. "…and since you blew a 0.0, we're not even giving you a drunk and disorderly."

He finally freed TK entirely of the metal, and TK rubbed his wrists, still not looking at him straight on.

Carlos pushed the bag towards him. "You're free to go."

There was a pause as TK digested that.

"And what's the bad news?" he asked as he picked up his stuff.

Carlos inhaled. "The bad news is that means you did this with a clear head." He swallowed before leaning on the desk to bring them closer together, lowering his voice so any nosy coworkers couldn't overhear. "I'm not trying to be your boyfriend, or even your friend if you're not into it, but you should probably talk to someone about why you felt compelled to do something so suicidal."

TK's eyes held so much pain as he looked back at him that Carlos had to look away. Needing something to do with his hands before he grabbed TK and refused to let go, he tossed the tissue box in front of him.

"You've got a little crud there, by the way." he added, gesturing to the side of his mouth.

TK plucked a tissue out and rubbed at the opposite side of his mouth to where the blood had piled up.

"Other side." he said, staring unblinking at the computer screen without taking any of it in. He was way too hyperaware of the man he hadn't been able to get out of his head to concentrate on the words on the screen.

TK wiped closer to the spot but still missed and didn't get the bulk of it, so Carlos sighed and grabbed a tissue of his own.

"Stop. Just… let me."

Deep green eyes bore into his brown ones as Carlos gently wiped the area, managing to get at least the worst of it. Their gaze was locked so intensely, Carlos was half-expecting sparks to explode in the air. God, he wished he could read TK's mind. There was some sort of storm brewing behind his eyes and Carlos had no idea what kind of emotion was rolling in.

He pulled the tissue away, crushing it up in his fist to stop him from saying or doing something stupid. He had already put his heart on the line enough with the man. No need to solidify his humiliation any further.

"Thanks." TK muttered, looking away finally.

Carlos didn't look at him, pretending to be wrapped up with finalizing the paperwork on the computer.

TK leaned over the desk, crossing an arm over the space between them. "Hey. I'm sorry I went crazy on you the other night." he said softly.

Carlos didn't want to reveal all of his cards, but there was no denying the thrill that rolled through him that TK was trying to apologize for what went down between them the other day. It had been eating him up inside since. And if TK was bringing it up unprompted, maybe that meant it had been bothering him too. And that he actually wanted to mend things between them.

Carlos managed to play it cool and indifferent. "I'm a cop. I'm used to crazy."

"Look, I just went through a really bad breakup. Like, nuclear bad. And then I relapsed."

Carlos had turned his body to face him but couldn't look him in the face, instead busying himself with a report on his desk. "You mean with me?"

Great, he was just a mistake. A 'relapse'. Guess that meant TK slept around, or used to, and it really had meant nothing to him.

"No. I mean with substances."

Carlos finally looked up at that. He wasn't expecting the confession, nor the way that TK was exposing himself to him right then. TK had addiction issues? Had given up substances likely due to misuse or overuse and his breakup had been bad enough to trigger using again?

Something clicked in his memory from the other night and he felt shame wash over him. "Right. Which explains your reaction to the champagne."

He had never asked if TK was even a fan of champagne or alcohol in general. He should've been more respectful and anticipated the idea that maybe TK had a poor relationship with it, or a bad experience, or just wasn't interested in it at all. No wonder he got his back up right away – Carlos had been trying to have a proper date with him but he didn't know this important thing about him. And TK was still probably pretty raw after his relapse that even the pressure to be polite would've been enough to set off some ugly emotions. That he'd have to come up with an excuse or lie, because who wanted to reveal their deepest secrets that early on?

"I'm such an idiot. I'm-I'm sorry…"

TK cut off his stammering. "No, it's fine, okay? I just… ever since I got here, it's just… it's just grey. And I just feel numb, all the time. I guess I just… I wanted to feel something."

TK's eyes were wet now, and there was nothing but heartbreaking honesty reflecting out of them.

Carlos felt his own eyes filling with moisture. He didn't know what to say. Hearing that TK had been hurting so badly, that he still was struggling so much… it broke his heart.

TK slipped his wallet and phone out of the clear bag finally and stood up to leave, heading in direction of the exit without another word. It seemed he had said all he needed to say.

Carlos couldn't let him go yet, couldn't let that be the last thing said between them tonight. "Judging by that lip, I'd say mission accomplished."

TK stared at him in irritable disbelief, the barest hint of amusement at the edges. "You really busting my balls right now?"

"Yeah. I suppose I am." Carlos replied.

He couldn't help the way the corner of his mouth lifted in a slight smirk, and he felt his heart pick up its pace when he saw TK's expression break into one of his gorgeous smiles.

TK shook his head at him in mock-disappointment. "And all this time, I thought you were too good for me."

It was clearly meant in jest, but Carlos could detect the hidden truth behind the words. He was a little too stunned to say anything to dispute it, their easy banter normally coming naturally to him but he was drawing a blank.

It wasn't until the door closed behind him that Carlos moved, and then he was crossing the station to chase him outside.

"TK! Wait."

TK turned from where he was walking down the sidewalk, his movements more ginger now than they were in the station. He likely was in a lot more physical pain than he had let on.

Carlos stood in front of him and inhaled a breath in the hopes that it would instill some courage in him.

"Thank you for telling me all of that. I know that couldn't have been easy. But I want you to know, it doesn't change anything for me. I still want to be with you. Whenever you decide you're ready. I…" He exhaled shakily, glancing down at his shoes as he tried to dig for that bravery somewhere deep inside him. "I really like you, TK. Not just because you're the best sex I've ever had. I… there's something here. I feel it when I'm around you. You're… you're special. You make me feel… so many things I don't know how to name yet."

Great, now he was rambling. Even better, making it clear how much of a lovesick fool he was over the guy. That wouldn't freak him out or anything.

He corrected his throat, trying to calm his anxiety. "Look, all I'm saying is that if you feel anything for me, I can be patient. I can wait until you're more ready. I think you're worth the wait."

TK's responding smile could outshine the sun. He wasted no time in coiling his arms around Carlos' waist and burying his face in his shoulder.

"I really like you too. And I do want to give this a shot. Just… when it has a better chance of not blowing up before it gets started."

Carlos pressed a quick kiss to his good temple before pulling back.

"For now, try to stay out of trouble, okay? You won't always be so lucky to get such an understanding cop like me processing you at the station."

TK blew out an exasperated breath that turned into a laugh. "I'll do my best."

Carlos couldn't help grinning at him, a much bigger fan of a laughing and teasing TK than a shattered and beaten one.

"I should get back. You gonna be okay to get home?"

TK nodded. "Yeah I already called a ride."

"Well, see you later then." Carlos said, not really sure how to be less awkward as he headed back up the stairs to return to the station.

"Hey, Carlos?"

He turned around. "Yeah?"

"Best sex you've ever had, huh?"

TK was sporting his cockiest grin, and Carlos wished he could kiss it off of his stupid smug face.

"You would pick that as the only takeaway from that whole speech…"

TK chuckled. "No, I remember it all. I just latched onto that because it was the same for me too."

Carlos took an extra second to process and then he felt himself flushing in pride.

TK's smile softened, no doubt reading his reaction even from several feet away. "Goodnight, Officer Reyes." he said cheekily as he moved towards the car marked with the Uber sticker that had pulled up.

Carlos could only watch as the car drove off into the night.

He felt a little bereft being apart from TK after all the honesty of the evening. Something about being so vulnerable together gave him the urge to be within close quarters, not wanting to give up the resulting rush that came with exposing your heart and having it be safe with the other person.

But Carlos knew that TK needed time. And he was willing to wait as long as it took.

For now, he returned to his desk, this time with a little more of a spring in his step.

[chicgeekgirl89]

Late

Fandom: 911 Lone Star

Characters: Carlos Reyes, T.K. Strand

A/N: Thanks as always to @bluenet13 for beta reading!

Read on AO3

T.K. was late. It wasn’t uncommon for one of them to be running late; when you worked as a civil servant the end of the day was determined by when the work was done, not what the clock on the wall said. Dating someone who understood that was rare, a gift. They understood and forgave the tardiness without malice.

He’d texted, telling Carlos to go ahead and get a drink and order an appetizer if he wanted. But Carlos waited, anxious to see his date (boyfriend? booty call? friend with benefits?). It had been a long day and he’d been looking forward to this evening since T.K. had texted and asked him about it two days ago. That was a step forward, T.K. asking him out instead of the other way around. It had to mean…something, right? Maybe? 

Oh god, his sister, Francesca, had been right when she told him he was hopelessly gone on this guy. Her actual comment had included a few more swear words and a surprising amount of sexual innuendo, even for his sister, but the message was the same: He was in love with a guy who liked him back. And he was doing a pretty terrible job of figuring the relationship out.

“Hey, sorry I’m late.” T.K. slid into the seat across from him, interrupting the gymnastics of his mental anxiety.

“No worries,” Carlos said, offering up a smile. “I got you a sparkling water and ordered a cheese plate.”

“Great, that’s great,” T.K. said, fidgeting in his chair like he couldn’t get comfortable.

Carlos hadn’t known T.K. for long, but the man read like an open book. He could tell something wasn’t right. “Everything okay?” he asked as T.K. picked up the menu and flipped it over without reading it before setting it back down again.

“What? Yeah, yes, yes everything’s fine,” he said, picking the menu back up again.

Carlos studied him, feeling his leg bounce up and down under the table. “You sure? You seem on edge. Rough day at work?”

T.K. set the menu down again and schooled his face into what Carlos assumed he thought was a neutrally pleasant expression, but was really a smile that strained around the edges. “No, I’m good. Sorry. So, what are you thinking about? The filet? Or actually the salmon looks really good. With the lemon sauce?”

Carlos let T.K. chatter his way through dinner about inane subjects such as the different types of hose nozzles, his Dad’s medicinal tea collection, and how to properly hail a taxi in New York. Carlos hmmed and nodded in all the right places, all the while mentally going through a list of possible reasons for T.K.’s uneasiness. A difficult shift seemed most likely, but T.K. had denied that. Could something have happened to someone he knew in New York? Or was there…was there someone else? He knew about T.K.’s recent horrendous break up, but was it possible that whoever he’d left behind had come calling? It happened more often than not, a quick rebound and then back to the previous relationship, he’d seen it time and and time again.

His heart squeezed a little bit at the thought and he mentally shook himself. T.K. had given him no indication that things between them were off, he shouldn’t assume and possibly fabricate a problem for himself that didn’t exist. 

They finished their meal, declining desert and coffee, and headed for the parking lot. “So,” Carlos finally said, his first word in quite a while. “Did you want to come over or…?”

“Yeah,” T.K. said far too brightly in the fakest possible way. 

T.K. seemed to have run out of bizarre facts and mundane topics to talk about because he was quiet on the drive back to Carlos’, seemingly lost in whatever was going on in his head, fingers absently playing with his phone, turning it over and over in his hands.

He didn’t even move when they stopped in the driveway, eyes staring straight ahead out the windshield. “T.K.,” Carlos said softly.

He startled and cleared his throat. “Hey, sorry.” He flashed another fake smile and leaned over, pressing a kiss to Carlos’ lips, quickly trying to turn it into more.

Carlos let him for a moment, not pulling back, but not fully giving in either, still trying to get a read on what was going on tonight. The current situation suggested it had nothing to do with them, which was a relief. But something was still wrong.

“Should we take this inside?” T.K. asked a moment later, his hand sliding up Carlos’ thigh, even as the enthusiasm didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Carlos cocked his head to the side. “Are you sure you want to?”

That got T.K.’s full attention and his brow furrowed. “I—yes. Yeah I wanted to come over and be with you.” He leaned over and kissed the tip of Carlos’ nose. “Come on.”

They walked inside and for once Carlos let T.K. take the lead as they landed on the couch, lips locked together, hands in each other’s hair, running up and down each other’s bodies. But it wasn’t fast and hard or even slow and gentle it was just…as if T.K. was going through the motions. And Carlos was not okay with that.

He pulled away, sitting up, putting distance between them. “What’s wrong?” T.K. asked in confusion. “You okay?”

“Are you?”

“What?”

Carlos fixed him with a firm look. “T.K. I want to have sex with you, I do. But I’m a big fan of enthusiastic consent. And right now you’re consenting but…I’m kind of missing the enthusiasm.”

T.K. sighed and sat up, resting his elbows on his knees, running a hand over his face. “I’m sorry. I should have just gone home.”

Carlos felt a pang of sympathy as he watched the weight of whatever T.K. was dealing with settle fully on his shoulders. He reached over and put a hand on T.K.’s knee. “You know, you don’t have to tell me what’s going on if you don’t want to. But if you do, I’m here. Or if you don’t want to talk I can drive you home. No questions asked.”

He could see T.K.’s jaw working, like he was trying to hold back tears. He shook his head silently, misery all over his face and Carlos couldn’t take it any longer. He slid closer so their thighs touched and put his free hand on T.K.’s shoulder. “T.K. what is it?”

The other man sucked in a breath, pinching the bridge of his nose as he squeezed his eyes shut. “My dad has cancer.”

Of all the things he’d considered, this had never crossed his mind. It felt like a punch in the gut. And if it felt that way to him, he could only imagine how it felt to T.K. 

“It’s lung cancer,” T.K. continued. “From the towers. And he didn’t tell me. He just moved us across the country like he could run away from it. I thought he made us come here because of me but really, it was because of him. And me. Both of us I guess, I don’t even know anymore.”

T.K. looked so wrung out and exhausted and Carlos’ heart ached, wishing for all the world that he could somehow take his pain away.

“He’s been getting chemo and dealing with this for months now, all on his own because he couldn’t tell me or didn’t want to tell me or didn’t trust me enough to tell me and I feel really REALLY shitty about it,” T.K. said. “Like the worst son in the world for not noticing and not being…okay enough for him to talk to me about it. Because you know that people with a support system have a better chance of beating cancer than people that don’t. And I haven’t been providing that for him. I’ve just been dealing with my own shit again.” 

His intake of breath was shaky, words continuing to pour out of him. “And I told him that I wasn’t scared, that I knew he was going to be all right, but I think that was a lie. Because right now I’m terrified. I’m terrified that I’m going to lose him. And I promised myself I would never lie to him again after what happened in New York but how could I say anything else? He needs me to be strong but,” T.K. finally looked up and met Carlos’ eyes, “I’m not very good at being strong. As evidenced by the addiction and relapses.” 

He shook his head again and ran an agitated hand over his face. “And I don’t even know why I’m telling you all of this. I’m sorry, it’s been a long day and I kind of can’t stop thinking about it and it all just kind of…spilled out.”

Carlos squeezed his knee. “Well, they do call me “The Confessor” at the precinct. Bad guys take one look at me and give up all their secrets.”

T.K. raised his eyebrows. “They do?”

“No, T.K. it’s a joke.” He winced slightly. “Maybe not the right time for a joke. Sorry.”

T.K. snorted. “No it’s…thanks. I needed that.” He exhaled slowly. “I think I needed all of that. I don’t uh, I don’t have many people I can talk to about stuff like this. So thanks for letting me unload on you. Again.”

“You can talk to me anytime,” Carlos said. “I mean it. And if you need help with your dad, anything at all, I’m glad to do that too. I can drive to appointments, pick things up, make phone calls, or just be a shoulder to cry on.”

T.K. gave him a soft, smile, the first genuine one of the night, and cupped his cheek. “You are so sweet. You know that?”

“I think you’ve mentioned it once or twice,” Carlos told him. “I’m not just saying it; I’m serious T.K. Anything you need, anything at all.”

He couldn’t fix this, couldn’t tell T.K. that it would all be all right in the end, couldn’t give him the assurances he longed for, but he could offer his presence and support.

“I know,” T.K. said, and he seemed to genuinely believe it. “Thank you.”

Carlos leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to his lips, lingering for just a moment before pressing their foreheads together. “Do you want to stay here tonight?”

T.K. nodded against him and didn’t pull back. “Do you mind if we don’t…I just don’t think I…”

“How about we watch a movie?” Carlos suggested. “I’ll make some popcorn, we can relax. Decompress a little bit.”

“Are you sure that’s okay?” T.K. asked.

Carlos smiled. “Believe it or not I like being with you even when we’re not having sex. And I am very capable of going without for a night or two.”

“But not three?” T.K. asked as Carlos got up and moved to the kitchen.

Carlos gave a fake wince. “That would be pushing it. I might have to find another hot shot firefighter from New York to hook up with.”

“You get a lot of those in Austin?”

“Oh they’re a dime a dozen around here,” Carlos said with a teasing grin as he started the microwave. “Walk down the street and you’re bound to run into at least a few. Although, I don’t think all of them have such a passion for hose nozzles.”

Now T.K. winced for real. “Sorry. I ramble when I’m anxious.”

“I noticed. It’s okay. And next time I’m at a scene and someone asks me for a hose nozzle, I will definitely be able to help. In fact, I think I’ll add that to my resumé. Hose Nozzle Expert.”

“Oh god,” T.K. rolled his eyes. “I’m a terrible date.”

Carlos returned with the popcorn. “Well I’ll guess we’ll just have to go on another one. Give you a chance to make it up to me.”

“Friday?” T.K. asked.

“I have a shift starting mid-morning.”

“Breakfast then?”

Carlos handed him the popcorn bowl. “Breakfast it is. Now,” he settled back into the couch and pulled T.K. toward him until they were cuddled together. “Relax. I’ve got you.”

[9tzuyu]

children of tragedy [pt.2]

note: hi. i totally did not mean for this to be a filler chapter but thats what it ended up being :(. i hope you guys still like it though. this is mostly natasha x reader (platonic), so maybe that’ll make up for it? lmk your thoughts!

mistakes are mine as always.

warnings: talk of alcohol abuse

pt. 1 | pt.3

🏷 @peggycarter-steverogers @blackxwidowsxwife (tagged since its nat centric)

when you left in the middle of the night while wanda slept in the other room. you didn’t bother waking her to say your goodbyes, instead wanting things to be quick and simple. telling wanda goodbye would only prolong that process. 

you did, however, leave one last sticky note on the kitchen table for her to see when she woke up. it was nothing over the top, just a reminder to make sure she ate and took care of herself.

(and of course your signature smiley face at the bottom of the paper. she loved your odd little version of a smiley face.)

you packed a bag separate from everything wanda put together and stuffed it to the brim with bare necessities. clothes were replaceable. what you had with wanda was not. besides, she probably wouldn’t mind keeping a few of your sweatshirts. they were always her favorite.

rummaging in the side pockets of your jacket you found the last twenty dollar bill you had and used it to catch the next bus across town. 

in all honesty you would’ve texted natasha to tell her you were on your way, but your phone had been dead for three days and you didn’t bother charging it after last night’s conversation. natasha wouldn’t mind though, you’ve been friends with her for over seventeen years. she was the only person who knew about your upbringing and all the abusive relationships between. she’d been there countless times to pick you up from the hospital your exes put you in, never once blaming you for what happened.

similarly to wanda, natasha never judged you for your decisions or ways of coping. she worried just as much as wanda did, but knowing you hated having to talk about things she kept silent. there were only a handful of times natasha could think of where you talked to her about what happened.

with a deep breath in, you slung your backpack over your shoulder and stepped off the bus. the walk to natasha’s house from your drop off area was only about fifteen minutes, but within that short amount of time you managed to get worked up over wanda. your thoughts were so loud that by the time you made it to natasha’s door step you had tears streaming down your face, your nose red from wiping it with the sleeve of your jacket. 

natasha was quick to answer, but she hadn’t expected you of all people to be standing right in front of her. snapping herself out of shock, she pulled you in for a hug before moving back to check you for any signs of bruising. 

there were a few, but they were fading nicely against your skin. and the cuts she found looked like they had been treated with care, which only confused the redhead. she hadn’t heard from you in over eight months, so it wasn’t surprising that she missed out on hearing about wanda. 

what a shame, you thought to yourself. she would’ve loved her.

natasha closed the door behind you and brought you over to her sofa. you laughed remembering that you were in this very same position last night; although it wasn’t like natasha could break up with you or anything of the sort. 

“stay here, i’ll be right back.”

you glanced at the clock on natasha’s wall seeing that it was three in the morning.

it was only when natasha came back when you noticed her disheveled hair and chapped lips. it was clear she was sleeping prior to you knocking on her door. she immediately noticed the guilty look on your face and quickly went to stop you from overthinking.

“none of that now, i don’t care at all that you woke me up at three in the morning. i haven’t seen you in over eight months, i’d be angry with myself if i hadn’t heard you knocking.” unsure how to reply, you nodded solemnly. 

she smiled, “are you hungry?” you licked your lips, food hadn’t crossed your mind in hours. “very.”

you followed her to the kitchen where she brought out a can of soup and set it to cook on the stove. 

“i don’t have much, i keep forgetting to go to the store.” she shrugged, leaning against the counter top.

“s’okay.” 

you awkwardly stood in the middle of the room, arms folded as you stared off into space. natasha took this opportunity to really get a look at you.

she could see the outlining of a bruise on the side of your cheek, and judging by the size, you had to have taken a pretty bad hit. there were also a few bruises around your neck as if someone had tried to choke you. 

she bit her lip, wincing internally at the thought of you getting choked so violently that it left marks as dark as the nail polish natasha once used as a teenager. it hurt her even worse knowing that this person was supposed to love you. 

you caught natasha’s gaze and shifted yourself further away from her. she tried not to frown, but you saw the slight downward movement of her eyebrows before she had a chance to look unbothered. 

“the soup, tasha. it’s going to burn.” you reminded her. 

“ah!”

she stirred the liquid content with a spoon and brought it to her mouth. “just right.” you watched her pour a safe amount into a bowl before giving you a spoon she hadn’t wrapped her lips around.

“lets go sit down so you can eat, yeah?” 

you followed her like a lost little kid back into the living room. if it hadn’t been for such serious issues at hand, natasha would’ve commented on how adorable you looked clutching the bowl with two hands while you unconsciously bit the insides of your cheeks because you were scared of breaking something. 

she gave you time to finish eating. you ate slower than she remembered, but she didn’t think too much of it. the last bite was when natasha when noticed the large scar across your hand. 

(god did she hate herself for not seeing it sooner because what the hell?) 

you moved to go put the dish in the sink, but natasha stopped you, gently grabbing the scarred hand to keep you from leaving. 

“don’t worry about that right now. set it on the coffee table and i’‘ll take care of it when we’re done here.” her voice was soft enough for you to feel safe, an affect only one other person could do. 

natasha didn’t say anything else, she wanted you to feel in control, to feel comfortable enough to talk about it.

the crack of your knuckles could be heard after a few short seconds of silence. there was no reason for you to feel so nervous. it was just natasha after all. she would never hurt you.

(you were brave. you were okay. you can do this.)

“she was so good to me, nat.” the redhead scoffed, but you were quick to defend your now presumed ex. 

“she was! this time i really mean it, and i know that sounds redundant but i would put the love i have for you as a friend, as a sister, on the line.” she seemed to believe you after that. the look in your eyes told her everything she needed to know. 

“what happened?”

your lip started to quiver, “i ruined it.” natasha moved closer to you, wrapping her arms around you so that your body rest against hers. “how’s that?” 

“i can’t stop drinking, couldn’t, and she had to do the right thing for herself.” her grip tightened around your frame. she hated not knowing you were drinking again. the first few times weren’t too bad, but she had a feeling this time was more than she could help with.

“she was so good to me, tasha and i ruined it. i fucking ruined every bit of it because i’m too weak to-”

“stop. do not finish that sentence or else i’m going to give you a sisterly lecture for the next three hours about every good thing that makes you who you are.” her threat came off as a joke, but if needed, natasha would actually hold herself to her own word.

you sighed and visibly deflated, natasha allowing the tiniest smile grace her lips from behind you. 

“what was her name?” your eyes found their way to natasha’s hands and the rings that clung to the base of her fingers. “wanda.”

“how did she treat you? i mean really treat you.”

you fiddled with her rings, twisting them back and forth absentmindedly, “she used to bandage my wounds with like, five layers of gauze, i swear. i always thought she was just being over dramatic, but sometimes the bleeding would even seep through that.” 

your breathing began to slow down. “she would always come when i needed her, whether that be when i blacked out from drinking or if i was sick and needed help taking a bath.”

“she sounds like a good person.”

“she is.” 

natasha hummed, “you really scared me, you know?” you moved to try and face her, but she kept her arm wrapped securely around your torso. “i didn’t hear from you in over half a year and now you’re here. you’re my best friend and i thought you were dead.” there was a crack in her voice. god knows she didn’t want you to see her cry.

(that’s why she held you in place, but most of all because she missed having you close.)

“i’m sorry, tasha...” 

“just don’t ever do that to me again or i will kill you myself.” you rolled your eyes at her reply. “i’m not, i promise.”

you moved off her lap, turning your body so you were face to face with her. “where do i go from here, nat?” 

she thought dor a second, “can you make it through tonight without a drink? or will withdrawls be too bad?”

you paused, surely you hadn’t gotten to the point where withdrawls were as serious as you’d seen in all the medical shows and documentaries. “i think i’ll be good.”

natasha nodded in approval, “do you want help?”

it was the question of the century for you. the answer should be a simple yes, but it never failed to amaze you how much weight could be carried behind a three letter word. there was a chance for you though, something you might not ever get again. and honestly, natasha’s heart couldn’t take another relapse like this. eight months of not knowing if you were alive or not was bad enough, she couldn’t imagine not seeing her dearest friend for the rest of her life.

“yes,” you exasperated, “yes, i wan’t help.”

[oumaheroes]

Earthbound: Ludwig’s Story

Characters: Germany, Prussia

Context:

Hundreds of years after the fall of Earth, mankind is slowly starting to return. Some people have a stronger urge to return than others, confused by fragments of memories from a life already lived.

Arthur’s story can be found here. 

Matthew’s story can be found here.

Gabriel’s story can be found here.

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

Ludwig is six, and is sick again. The doctors don't know what's wrong with him; they know what's causing it at least but they have no idea why. He can't keep food down and every time he tries to stand the world pitches and swims and he can't keep his balance so he never manages to stay up for long before he bonelessly falls to the floor, where he feels no better.

It's the gravity, the doctors say, for some reason he's affected by the gravity. The artificial gravity that he's known all his life; it's as if he's just climbed aboard and his body suffers from relapses where it just can't acclimatise. Where it suddenly realises that something's not quite right and rebels against him for a week or so. This his family already knows, but his mother isn't satisfied with such a lacklustre answer so she takes him to a different doctor every time he suffers another attack just in case one of them is even marginally more competent than the last. These 'episodes', as his mother likes to call them, don't happen all that often, but he seems to have one every ten months or so and they are regular enough to annoy his mother to no end. Ludwig doesn't really know if she's annoyed that no one can fix him or with him himself, Gilbert won't say and normally his big brother talks to pretend that he knows something so his silence worries Ludwig the most.

Mother is a very important person with a very important job: she's a governor of the space station upon which they live and it is very important that Ludwig remembers this. So, when he's laying in bed clutching at his belly and desperately clenching his eyes shut to minimise the swaying, his friends at school think that he is away for a special training academy. Because can you just imagine, the governor of a space station's son being space sick?

His father doesn't like to call it that because he thinks it's degrading so his mother doesn't, when she thinks Ludwig can't hear, anyway, but Ludwig knows that's what the kids at school would say so he happily keeps mum because it's easier than lying. They don't talk to him much besides, they find him too cold and distant but that's because he's so scared of disgracing his mother further that he can't quite relax fully.

When Ludwig is thirteen his mother, after exhausting all doctors aboard their large floating colony, finally accepts that it's unlikely that this small problem of his is going to go away. Her way of dealing with it is to pretend that it just doesn't happen; during an attack Ludwig is sent to his room where he stays painfully alone with only his books for company whilst she busies herself with her new campaigns. She's running for director now, aiming as high as she can go and there's no room for weak, feeble Ludwig all the way up there.

His brother tries his best to keep him entertained and happy during these times, but Gilbert is healthy, strong, smart; he's everything that Ludwig should also be able to grow up to be and their parents have sent him off to expensive schools which means that he's more often away from home than not. Sometimes Ludwig wonders if they've sent him away because they want Gilbert to be the all around best he can be, or if it's to distance him as much as they can from Ludwig. It's almost as if they're worried that Ludwig will taint him, or that maybe Gilbert will grow too attached to him and distract himself from what's really important. That Ludwig will anchor him down.

At five years older it's highly unlikely that Ludwig will be the one doing the influencing, but his brother, despite hardly seeing each other and such a large age difference, does seem to genuinely care for him. During one particular attack, when Ludwig is eighteen, Gilbert is home from university; it is almost Christmas and his family are preparing to travel to where his grandparents live on the other side of the space station, where they'll spend the holiday. Of course, it is now that his body decides to betray him.

He, his parents, and his brother are gathered around the large dining room table finishing off dinner. It is tense. Mostly it is Gilbert who talks because despite their mother's cool demeanour and their father's lack of interest he seems to always have something to say to fill the silence and speaks easily. Even with the response he gets, or lack of it, he seems honestly unperturbed and remains cheerful, somehow managing to both eat and speak without seeming impolite. As much as he loves his brother, Ludwig is also supremely jealous.

He stares at his fork, contemplating which point in the evening would be best to ask if he could slip away, when his body decides for him. His stomach swoops, his ears pop and the table tilts alarmingly. He clenches the edge in panic to remain upright and the noise alerts his mother, who looks up from her dessert in irritation.

'Ludwig, we are going away tomorrow.'

'M- mother-'

His mother sighs and looks at his father, who sharply stares back. 'Dear?'

His father grunts and spears another forkful of fruit pie. 'They're expecting him to come.'

'But the photographers-'

'What do you want me to do, Hilda?'

Meanwhile, Ludwig has still not been dismissed and cannot now seem to find the words to ask for permission himself without spewing all over the fancy silverware. He doubts that that will make the situation better, somehow. Gilbert notices and stands, attracting his parents' attention.

'I'll take Luddy to his room.'

'Darling...' their mother tries to say something, but it's what she's trying not to say that comes across the loudest.

Gilbert ignores her and walks around the table, slowly helping Ludwig to his feet, then away from the table and swiftly towards a bathroom. They make it just in time. Gilbert pats him comfortingly on the back and rubs soothing circles into his shoulders until he's finished, then hands him a glass of water.

'So, they're still arseholes, huh?'

Ludwig snaps his head up in horror, but this is a bad idea because the image of Gilbert swims before him and he has to shut his eyes.

'Don't call them that.' He finally manages, weakly.

Gilbert tuts. 'What the fuck did they feed you with in order to churn your personality out.'

Ludwig lays his head on the cool tiles of the floor and groans inwardly at how nice the feeling is. 'They're not arseholes.'

'Yeah, and my name's Shirley.'

Ludwig cracks open an eye, but Gilbert's not joking. He is, for once, deadly serious. 'How'd you put up with them Lud?'

Ludwig shrugs and gives a small shake of his head. 'They're our parents, Gil. They still care for me. Besides, I'm not exactly making it easy for them.'

Gilbert looks disgusted. 'You're their fucking son, arsehole. They're supposed to take care of you. They ain't even doing that right are they?' Gilbert runs a hand through his shock of white hair and bits his bottom lip whilst he shakes his head. 'Look at how they treat you versus me.'

'Yes, but I'm not exactly-'

'But nothing!' Gilbert raises his voice slightly and swallows. When he speaks again, he's much quieter, back under control. 'Have they got you in a university programme yet?'

Ludwig's silence is answer enough and Gilbert sighs deeply before brushing back Ludwig's sweaty fringe. 'There's nothing wrong with you Lud.' His brother sounds so very sad. 'Fuck, there's nothing wrong with you at all. They know full well that if they put you on a planet rather than this floating heap of rust that you'll probably be alright. And have they? Have they fuck.'

Ludwig wants to argue against him, wants to say something to stand up for himself if not for their parents but his eyes are suddenly burning and his throat is choked up. He knew a long time ago that his parents had given up on him, but to hear it from someone else hurts more sharply than anything he tells himself.

There's an odd companionable silence for a while; Ludwig lays still with his face against the floor and his brother's hand carding through his hair so he almost misses what Gilbert says next.

'I was gonna wait till Boxing Day, but I've got us tickets for Earth.'

Ludwig tenses and holds his breath. Gilbert continues. 'I was gonna wake you up on the 26th and take you away with me, but I want to tell you now instead, cause you look like shit. We're gonna get out of here Luddy; I've always wanted to take you to a planet and what better one is there than the original, huh?'

'You, I- you can't- what about your studies? The internship you've got?' Ludwig manages to stammer out, opening his eyes.

Gilbert brushes his concerns aside. 'I never liked medicine, really. I've always wanted to go to a planet, so I'm mega up for it.'

Ludwig knows he should say no, knows that he shouldn't take up the offer. He'd be denying his brother so much, he'd be exactly what their parents worried he'd be because he'll only drag Gilbert down and down and down like a heavy lead weight and ruin all of his chances at a good life.

But Ludwig wants to be selfish. He reaches out and clasps onto Gilbert's hand, squeezing it tightly. 'Gil...'

Gilbert flashes him a grin and winks. 'I know, right? How awesome am I?'

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

AN:

I’ve been a very busy bee recently and haven’t been able to write anything, so in lieu of something new, have something old.

This is from my fic Earthbound, which I’m embarassingly fond of. It’s made up of several different stories and Ludwig and Gilbert’s is the one that I’m the most happy with after all these years.

Hope you enjoyed!

[fancybehaviour]

Daddy Woes

Summary:

Harry is a good husband; so he sends his wife out on a much needed girls day. James Sirius is a naughty boy; so he sends his father down an anxiety spiral.

Notes:

Written for @harryandginuary BINGO!

Prompt I 23: “Why are there zucchini all over our kitchen?” “Do you not like zucchini?”

The sun had sunk low on the horizon, and in a few minutes would dissapear for the night. About dinner time, thought Ginny, as she made her way home after a long enjoyable day, her heels clicking rhythmically against the cobble. As she walked, she rewinded the highlights of her girls day out with Hermione and Luna in her head. Ginny had had an absolute hoot meeting her friends.She was sure she would continue to reminisce until the next time she could have such a day; after all being the mother of a seven month old meant that such trips were a rarity and she cherished them a lot.

Her legs ached from all the walking around she did while she helped Luna shop for her trip and she was looking forward to taking the nice long bath her husband had promised to draw her. She let out a sigh as she thought of sinking her aching legs in a hot bath, her husband perched at the edge of her bathtub as she gave him an exaggerated recount of the day's events peppered with silly nonsensical jokes, him guffawing at them all even though he had already heard them all. He did that a lot these days, laughing. Especially since the birth of their beautiful boy.

She felt a swell of love rise in her as she thought of her family; her seven month old baby son who could scream the house down and her loving husband who tried his best to give her respite from the said infant. 

"Harry?" she called, pushing the front door to close and locking it. "James darling? I'm back home. Did you boys have fun?". She continued heading towards the kitchen where she could hear noises, taking care not to trip over the many toys that were strewn about their living room. Courtesy of their many relatives and friends, James seemed to have an amount of toys that seemed absolutely ridiculous to Ginny who couldn't remember seeing so many toys even at the Burrow, that had been the residence of seven children. Making the matter even more ridiculous was the fact that James's favourite toys were actually the copper pots and pans that he liked to bang about making noise.

It was only when she reached the kitchen and took in the desecration that it was  that she realised that perhaps today, she might be the only one in the Potter household who might have had any semblance of fun.

Eyes darting from her slightly whimpering son in his high chair, to the trail of food spills surrounding him to the multicoloured stains adorning her husband's apron and his miserable face, she decided to address a whole other issue: “Why are there zucchini all over our kitchen?” 

“Do you not like zucchini?”, asked Harry, in a tone that might have been wry if it weren't for the long suffering expression on his face.

"Absolutely not. Can't believe you thought I did, the honor of questionable taste will forever be Hermione's ."

He gave a laugh that seemed more for her benefit (making Ginny wonder if parenthood had done a number on her humour too) and set about cleaning up. Ginny walked into the kitchen and lifted the whimpering toddler into her arms. She pressed a loud smacking kiss on both of his chubby, chubby cheeks, and rocked him gently, seemingly this was all that was needed for his whimpers seemed to slowly subside. She could feel Harry's eyes on them as he continued to clean up the mess; she remained silent, waiting for him to tell her what was weighing on his mind.

Instead he said, "He missed you," so she turns around to see him, looking at them softly with a look on his face that Ginny could only describe as melancholy. It reminded Ginny of her fifth year, when he looked at her like that, like she was everything he wanted but was unattainable.

It seems she was going to have to demand answers after all. Very well.

"Alright Potter, spill. Whatever happened today that has got you relapsing into your teenage angst?"

He laughed, and this time it was a genuine one; BINGO!

Pulling a chair at their kitchen table and settling himself down he said " James kept crying after you left. A lot." 

"Uh-huh. Nothing he hasn't done before. "

"Yeah. Sure. But today I just realised.."

"Yeah?" She asked, settling down into the chair opposite him, shifting James into her lap who seemed very fascinated with playing with her hair.

Harry watched him for a moment and then continued, "I know James crying is nothing new. Yet for some reason, it just bothered me today, you know."

"Uh-huh."

"It made me feel like a bad parent." he confesses, looking a bit surprised himself, perhaps at that he had spoken it out loud, yet continued with "I have been feeling like it a lot these days."

There.The dam had finally broken. Ginny had long since suspected that Harry was having troubles with parenting. She had caught him brooding about with a tea mug in his hands instead of going back to bed after whatever ungodly hour James Sirius had decided to wake them up. 

She tried many times,to get him to talk, but between her own exhaustion, an infant with a strong pair of lungs and Harry's stubborn refusal to burden Ginny with anymore than she was already dealing with nothing had come out of it. But now that he seemed to want to talk, Ginny did not stop him.

"I just… "he paused, and swallowed, something he did when he was overcome with emotion but wanted to bite it down.

"I want to do this right. I have never wanted so badly to do something right in my whole life. Family..it means everything to me and I want to be a good father but I'm afraid I am failing."

"You are an amazing father, Harry."

He shook his head. 

"Am I?"

"Yes" Ginny agreed furiously.

Harry looked into her eyes at that and she hoped he could read her, that he could see himself from her eyes, how she fell in love with him more and more everyday as she saw more and more of dad Harry.

Looking away he continued, "I sure don't feel like it. Today, while you were away, all Jamie wanted was his Mum. I tried everything, feeding him your milk, his favourite toys - yes the pans and pots, we are lucky we have no neighbours- feeding him all sorts of baby food and yet nothing seemed to work for long before he started wailing again. "

Ginny replied, "I don't want to sound like I'm being condescending, but this is the only way I can seem to put it- he's a toddler Harry. No one knows why toddlers do what they do. If he was fussy with you today and missed me I doubt it's because he has decided you were a bad parent."

"I know that - rationally.But the part of me - the same part of me that gets jealous of blokes trying to chat you up or worries that Ron is going to make a new best friend  - that part of me makes me think I have been a bad father."

"Today when Jamie kept crying for you, and I wasn't able to calm him down or feed him any of the amalgamation of baby foods I made- it just felt like I was in over my head, without a clue about what was doing. I might as well have been one of those dads who say they are 'babysitting' their kids and leave them up to their mothers and that's not- I never want to be that."

"I don't just want to do this right, I want be good at this. Like I am at Quidditch or catching dark wizards. I know I can catch a snitch, I know how to find a criminal on the run from law. Just like that, I want to be good at taking care of my son...but today, everything I did kept failing and that made me think.."

"James dented your confidence, didn't he," she said softly.

"He did," Harry agrees looking over at the boy who was happily sucking on his toes, completely ignorant of the spiral he had sent his father through.

Lacing her fingers with his, she said,"My mum told me, with parenting, there's bad days and good days, but you've got to understand that having bad days is not equivalent to being a bad parent."

"I imagine she had a lot of those, with seven of you," replied Harry wryly.

"Two of them Fred and George", Ginny reminded him.

They sat for a moment in silence both lost in thought.

"Gin-"

 "Harry" ,they both started at the same time, and Harry motioned for her to go on.

"I was just thinking - I had help with this. My mum, Fleur, Angelina, my teammates - I had people to talk this with. To reassure me that I wasn't doing things wrong. But you don't have that."

"No. But I've got you."

"You do," she agrees. "But also, maybe you should talk to people too. Maybe my dad or Bill or George"

He snorts at that. "If anyone had told me ten years ago that I'd be talking parenting with George.." he trails off as Ginny gives a light chuckle.

"Seriously though," she says again,       "Give it a try. I'm always here though. To listen. Or if you wanna get competitive over who is the worse parent".

Grinning, he says "I fed him courgettes Gin. He hated it. I'm winning this game." and she smiles at him, simply happy to see him happy.

"Oh and what is it?", she asks, and at his quizzical raise of eyebrows she elaborates, "that you wanted to say? You wanted to say something but you let me go first."

At that he gives her a wide smile and says, 

"Just that I love you."

[vennysbottom]

I don’t need it

Wilhemina Venable x FemReader

Words: 2,8K

warning: eating disorders, angst i guess

A/N: I have no idea what this is but I needed to get out of my head. Please, please don’t read this if you think it could trigger you.

*Also, I read something similar on here but couldn’t find it, so if you know, pls tell me so that I could give them credit.

It wasn't enough. The truth was, it was never enough. No number ever seemed right anymore. Each morning you were afraid to weigh yourself, knowing it determined how your day was going to go. For the past few months, the only thing on your mind was weight loss and how you looked. You couldn't focus on anything else, you found it hard to be your positive self and most importantly, you were losing yourself.

You were losing yourself again.

You were not sure how many times this has already happened, but you knew what was going on. There was no reason to try to prevent it though, you felt like you needed to lose a few pounds anyway and saw no harm in doing it this way. Or more accurately, you chose not to see it.

“Y/N baby, I'm leaving” your girlfriend's voice coming from downstairs brought you back to reality. Not realising how long you've been analysing your body in the bathroom; you ran to the front door.

“Still in your pyjamas?” she said while giving you a half-smile. Wilhemina herself was looking as professional as ever, given that it was just 7 AM. She had her hair up, makeup on, and was wearing one of those purple fits that you loved on her. Each morning she amazed you by how good she looked. You leaned in to give her a goodbye-kiss which she gladly returned.

“Have a good day. Love you” you said while getting a hold of her one free hand. She gave it a light squeeze before saying “I made you coffee. I love you too.” And just like that, she was out of the door and you were alone. 

You stood at the doorway for a couple of seconds, deciding what to do today. You had a few online classes that day but they only took up half of the day, leaving the whole afternoon to yourself. 

You went into the kitchen to get your coffee, trying to be as quick as possible. You didn't like being there anymore, it made you feel anxious and guilty. Although, for the majority of your relationship with Mina it has been nothing but nice; you loved cooking dinners for her every day to make her relax and talk about what kind of day the both of you had had, you loved having slow Sunday mornings there. But none of that hasn't happened for quite a while now. Avoiding meals equalled constant lying; on the weekend you’d sleep in since your energy levels were constantly low, and most days you’d lie to get out of eating dinner. You would say that you had to study for a test, had an assignment due or simply that you had already eaten by the time Wilhemina got home.

All of these thoughts were flooding your mind from just standing in the room. You quickly grabbed the cup and left to go into your home office.

Your classes began at 8 and by the time noon arrived you were done for the day. You couldn’t focus on anything your lecturers were saying, which wasn’t uncommon, but this time it wasn’t just the fact that you were exhausted that kept you from paying attention. You kept thinking about how your relationship was slowly starting to fail. You and Mina were in love, but the truth is, your lies were undermining the trust between you two. Until your relapse, you had never lied to her and that’s why she knew that she could always count on you. But she started noticing how distant you were getting and how little time you wanted to spend with her; it hurt her, but she decided to just play along and pretend like everything was fine.

You were aware of all of this. You knew you needed to fix this but sadly enough, you didn’t know how to do that. There was no way you’d be willing to eat - the fear was too overwhelming for you. That’s why you decided to do the next best thing - a quick fix.

The first thing you came up with was a visit at work. There was a high risk of catching your girlfriend taking out her frustrations on one of her poor employees, but the only thing on your mind at that moment was making Wilhemina feel loved. You were mad at yourself for neglecting her because you knew that she deserved way better than that.

You got dressed and made your way to Kineros Robotics, stopping along the way at her favourite coffee shop. You had worked at the company a few years prior, so you knew most of the people by name and knew the place perfectly.

“Hey Jenny!” you greeted your former co-worker with a smile once you’ve made your way up to the front desk. “Y/N! What are you doing here?” she said while looking away from her computer. “Oh, I’m looking for a woman and thought she might be here. You may have seen her actually; long red hair, very kind, the same height as me… Does that ring any bells?”

“Was she wearing purple by any chance?” she asked jokingly.

“You know what? It is possible! How’d you know?” you answered and gave her a toothy smile.

“Try her office Y/N/N. But just a warning: she screamed at me today for letting in a delivery-guy, so she’s probably not in the best mood,” she said while pointing you in the direction.

You knew this was your fault; she does get snappier at work when she's worried about something. So, not only are you two miserable but others get screamed at more frequently. Maybe a quick fix wouldn’t be enough this time, but it was the best you could do for now.

You arrived at Mina’s office to find it empty so you hesitantly made your way down to the guys’ office. It didn’t take long for you to hear muffled voices, one of which belonged to the woman you were looking for, and you could tell that she was upset about something. Upon entering the room, you saw her; she had her back towards you and was supporting herself by the cane in her right hand. Just this image alone was enough to make your heart race. Jeff and Mutt were bending down to sniff what seemed like their daily dose of cocaine. There were also two girls sitting on a table near them, probably just random hookers the guys hired for the day.

“No, no, no, that’s not what I said. What I meant was, that you should watch your temper more” Mutt said loudly before turning around to start typing on his keyboard.

You saw Wilhemina tighten her grip on her cane, “Excuse me?” she said in a cold tone, clearly getting ready to argue.

Jeff stood up after attempting to clean the powder from his nose, “Come on babe. You know you could be nicer to the employees”.

“Shut up Jeff,” you said sternly, making all the heads turn in your direction. “You’re paying her to do all the work around here that you are too lazy to do yourselves, not to be nice to people.” You could see the surprise on Wilhemina's face, but it didn't take her long to regain her composure and protectively reach for your hand once you've reached her side.

Jeff smiled at you and said “Y/N! Long-time no see. Have you finally changed your mind?”

You haven’t seen the two idiots for a couple of months, almost making you forget how gross they were. You took a step forward and stated “I wouldn’t touch your slimy dick with a two-feet pole,” which made both of them laugh slightly. “I'm here to put you in your place since you obviously still need to be reminded,” you continued giving them a cocky smirk. You knew they would not budge, but it was a nostalgic way of entertainment.

“Wow, you don’t have to be so rude baby,” he said pretending to be offended, “Seems to me like Ms.Venable has a bad influence on you.”

Oh, it was on. You were ready to shoot another remark but were stopped by your girlfriend’s hand giving you a squeeze and lightly pulling you back.

“I would choose my next words carefully if I were you; you’re on very thin ice,” Mina said while staring at Jeff. She would normally avoid confrontation with them but her possessive side got the best of her in that moment. Softening her expression, she turned to face you, “Would you wait for me in my office? I need to sort some things out.”

You nodded and turned on your heel to leave. Hearing Jeff shout at you “The offer still stands!” made you turn once more and say truthfully “Hope your brain turns into mush soon, asshole.”

Once you were out of the door and far enough that nobody thought you could hear them anymore Mutt started the conversation, “Damn Ms.Venable, are you even feeding her?” which made a look of confusion appear on Wilhemina's face. “Now, what’s that supposed to mean?” she asked with a hint of offence, trying to find an answer in the face of one of them. Since Jeff was the one who knew you the longest, he decided to explain, “Oh don’t tell me you haven’t noticed anything,” still seeing the puzzled look on his secretary’s face, he went on, “For fuck’s sake, don’t you live together? You must have noticed the weight loss, plus Y/N is never very subtle about this.”

That’s when it clicked and Wilhemina finally understood what Jeff was implying, “She's never subtle? This has happened before?”

She waited impatiently for an answer, hoping that all of this was just a sick joke; the other two exchanged a look of mutual understanding and Mutt finally said: “You should talk to her.”

You paced around the office trying to figure out what to do and how to fix this situation. You knew that Mina was hurt and probably even disappointed; you knew her instinct would be to build her walls up again and you were terrified she wouldn’t let you fully in again. Once you heard the sounds of her cane getting closer, you knew there was no preparing for this.

She entered the room with a somewhat disapproving expression on her face, which she successfully hid when you shot her a warm smile, waiting for her to sit in the chair while you leant on her table. Sitting down, she looked at the cup you were nervously playing with and narrowed her eyes at you. “I thought you might need cheering up today, so I got you your favourite,” you said while placing the coffee on her desk. And you could swear, at that exact moment, you saw love light up her eyes, and the slight smile she offered you gave you butterflies, just like the first time you saw her smile like that. The silence between you that followed made you play with your fingers anxiously but after a while, it was broken by Wilhemina's soft voice, “Well thank you. I appreciate it.”

“But that's not the only reason I stopped by. I've finished all my work for the week…” you traced off preparing yourself to say the latter part, which you'd much rather avoid, “So I thought that I could cook dinner for us tonight because I haven’t done that for a while now. And I wanted to ask you if there was anything you’d like.” At that point your heart was beating so fast you were sure she could hear it.

She could see how uncomfortable you were but wasn’t able to pinpoint the reason for your behaviour; she didn’t know whether it was due to your relationship hitting a rough patch or because Jeff and Mutt might have been right. Either way, she knew she’d find out tonight; playing it cool she kissed you on the cheek and told you that it was completely up to you.

Cooking the food was fine, calming even, but once it was done you realised that you actually had to eat it which caused you to panic. You tried to calm down but your eating disorder made that almost impossible. You sat at the table for what seemed like hours trying to come up with an excuse, eventually deciding to just drink wine and lie if you were to be questioned.

You were disturbed from your state by the door opening and your girlfriend coming into view. She locked eyes with you instantly. You could tell that she was exhausted, that wasn’t anything out of the ordinary after all, but there was more tonight. Wilhemina hasn’t been able to concentrate on anything else than you for the rest of the afternoon. She analysed the situation, her potential steps and their outcomes for the whole ride home. What scared her the most was the fact that in both scenarios, she was running a risk of losing you.  

You were both tense, expecting the other one to start a fight and unable to relax, so you only made small talk. You sat at the table with your glass of wine, playing with the food on your plate while watching Mina observe you closely. Then the tension got too much and she barked out, “Aren't you going to eat?” in a tone so cold, it reminded you of the times you worked for her. She held eye contact with you, almost daring you to lie to her. Almost daring you to start a fight that would break her heart. You quickly answered, saying that you ate right before she came so you were pretty full. Keeping your eyes on her face, you saw her expression change - she went from being irritated to being seemingly sad in a matter of seconds.

“Do you still love me?”

Once the question left her lips, there was no taking it back and it physically hurt you that she had to ask. It hurt to know that Wilhemina felt so abandoned by you, she actually thought you were going to leave her; and judging by the look in her eyes, she was ready for you to say “no”. Wasting no time, you answered, “Of course. Of course, I still love you, Mina.” hoping to sound genuine enough for her to believe you. You watched her closely, waiting for her reaction, but to your surprise, her feelings were shoved back down just as quickly as they surfaced.

She straightened her posture before stating, “Well, in that case, we need to talk.” You felt yourself freeze, knowing exactly what was about to go down.

“Have you been eating?” she asked, not letting you drift your eyes away from hers. You knew she’d catch on eventually and call you out, but you had hoped you had a little more time. With a confused expression on your face, you said, “What do you mean?”.

Wrong answer. Wilhemina was tired of your bullshit and you trying to hide it from her. Her face seemingly hardened as she explained, “I haven’t seen you have a meal in weeks. You’re always making excuses, saying you’re too busy to sit down with me. The two idiots even implied this isn’t the first time this has happened.”

You knew there was no point in pretending anymore, so not caring about the consequences anymore, you snapped, “Oh, so it took Jeff and Mutt telling you everything for you to notice? Good to know.” You got up to leave but the sudden sound of Mina’s cane hitting the floor made you stop in your tracks. “Sit your ass down,” she ordered through gritted teeth. Seeing how mad she was getting and how her knuckles whitened, you thought it was better to obey. Although Wilhemina liked establishing dominance, she very rarely raised her voice at you. But this was different, she was pissed that you refused to take care of yourself and she knew she had to be strict.

“Y/N, eat. Now,” she demanded in a stern tone. You were sitting down, fork in one hand and anxiously pulling the skin on your leg with the other. After a few minutes of silence, she reached for your hand under the table and with a pleading look in her eyes, she said softly, “Baby… please, try. For me.”

You couldn’t stand seeing her like this, so you hesitantly started to eat. You hated it, and the feeling of food in your stomach made you sick. Wilhemina rubbed slow circles on your hand in an attempt to calm you down. Despite her effort, tears started to fall down your cheeks about halfway through the meal, but you still managed to finish everything.

Seeing the plate finally empty caused you to sob uncontrollably. Mina approached you quickly and put her arms around you, pulling you into a tight hug. In between sobs, you whispered, “I hate you so much right now.” In response, she said, “Shhh, I know. I know,” while stroking your hair.

“You did good, little one.”

[bedbellyandbeyond]

Call Another Friend

(Story Post)

Nathan’s first day alone with the twins without any extra help was exhausting. He didn’t realise how much he depended on Dax to be around at least a fraction of the day so he could rest. He felt like Korsgaard had to be lying when he said they were angels all weekend, because as soon as he got them home, they went feral. They were like having two new puppies in the house, except bigger, stronger, and one’s a bear. Even in human form, they were crawling already and getting into everything. Not to mention, they wanted to nurse all the time, especially Gabriel. He drank a lot more than his sister and when Grace was done, Nathan often switched Gabriel to the other side to balance things out. He would be left dry, and sore, and praying that he would feed them enough to make them sleepy. He loved them to death, but he needed some moral support. “How can I help you, laddie?” “Reid, oh my god…” Nathan sighed as he got the doctor on the phone. “Are you working?”

“No, I’m off for the evening, but if there’s something I can do—” “I need someone to talk to. Do you think you could come over? Like, as a friend?” There was a pause on the other end. “…Are you joking?” “I’m sorry, I mean, if it’s weird, or—” “No, no! I’d love to come over!” “There isn’t something inappropriate about it? You know, messing with the patient/doctor relationship?” “If we’re not boning, we’re peachy,” Reid said, chuckling a bit. “I’ll be over before you can spell ‘friendship’.” “Haha, okay…” Nathan smiled. “Thanks, dude.” “Don’t even mention it.” “See you soon.”

It wasn’t long before Reid was knocking on the front door. Nathan had plopped the twins down in their playpen and went to let his friend inside. Reid looked very excited as he stepped in. “I hope you understand that when you become my friend, you cannot get rid of me,” Reid said. “You have the curse of Reid now. I am a tattoo.” “Hopefully a tasteful one,” Nathan joked. Reid shrugged. “Probably not.” He made grabby hands. “Where are the beasties?” Nathan took him to the living room which was pretty much completely taken over by the kids play area. Gates separated it from the kitchen and the hall, and another gate was put up in front of the sliding doors to the backyard. Nathan climbed in and sat down on the couch while his offspring started to crawl toward him. “Come sit.” Reid gladly climbed into the living room and sat with him, bringing Gabriel and Grace up onto his lap. “Hello, sweethearts! You're growing so big! I can't believe it!” Grace cooed at him and Gabriel tried to put a wad of his shirt in his mouth. “So. You have to tell me how it went with Kent.” Nathan threw his head back and groaned. Reid tilted his head. “That bad?” “I... I'm going to put them down for a nap because I'm ready for foul language...” Nathan said, scooping up his kids. Reid pouted as he’d just got a chance to see them, but he let them go. “…Aye, best they don’t pick up any curses just yet. They’ll be talking sooner than you know.” “Yeah… Alright, I'll be right here.” When Nathan got back, he proceeded to tell Reid everything that happened. He didn’t leave out any details and the doctor hung on every word, confused but invested. “Oh my god.” Reid had tucked his feet up under his legs and he leaned on his knees. “So, you kissed Kent but then Dax fucked him.” “Yeah… It’s all really fucked up… I don’t know how to feel about any of it,” Nathan said. “I feel guilty for kissing Kent but at the same time, I don’t know what to do with the whole…Dax and Kent thing. It’s so wrong.” Nathan paused. “Why are you smiling?” Reid was grinning from ear to ear. “Oh, sorry. It’s nothing.” “What are you thinking?” “Och, I dunno…” Reid waved a hand. “I mean… It’s all kind of perfect.” Nathan blinked and stared at his companion. “…Um, I’m sorry. Did you hear anything I said?” “Yes.” Reid straightened up. “You should go for it.” Nathan shook his head. “For what? You can’t mean Kent…” “Kent. Dax. You. You clearly all like each other,” Reid said. “I think you should go for that.” Nathan was taken aback. He opened his hands. “Are you insane?” “My therapist says no, but, I love love. I think you’d all make quite the incredible item,” Reid insisted. “Think about it. You love Dax, but he doesn’t tick all your boxes. Kent makes up for that. And Dax clearly adores you, but at the same time my impression of him is that he is incredibly versatile and both of you could be more sexually satisfied with a big bear in the mix, no pun intended.” “…Okay, I see. So, this is the curse of Reid.” Nathan tapped his own lip. “You’re crazy if you think I want to be in a throuple with Kent.” “Come on, now, Nathan,” Reid sighed. “When have I been wrong about you?” “What are you talking about?” “I was right about you and Dax. You work so well together. You’re a perfect couple.” “So, why in the world are you trying to inject Kent into it?!” “Oh laddie, he’s already in it,” Reid said. “He’s the twins’ father, he’s going to be in your life a lot more now. It’d probably all be easier if you’re all open about your feelings for each other. I believe in you.” “Kent doesn’t do ‘open feelings’,” Nathan said. “He thinks if he admits he likes men, he’ll be tarnishing the memories of his late family.” “Now, you say that, but he’s already opened up about wanting you to live with him. And he liked your kiss,” Reid said. “He’s coming out of his shell. Just be gay around him and it’ll rub off eventually.” “Even if he comes out, he’s still a horrible man!” Nathan said. “He swears up and down and every sentence is an insult. He…He laughed at my chest!” “To get you riled up enough to turn,” Reid said. “He’s clever. He’s patient. He’s as big as a house and I bet he’s hung like a horse. What do you want?” “He’s on the other end of the province!” Nathan said. “That’s a bonus!” Reid said. “You don’t have to see him every single day! He likes being alone, so you can just visit him whenever you feel like having your needs met, and then you’re out of there as soon as you can’t stand each other anymore. Win/win.” “That sounds like he's just a booty call,” Nathan said. “Well, no. Not necessarily. Needs can be affection, general time together. Time for him with the kids. Anything you need it to be,” Reid said. “You need to establish boundaries and everyone needs time to grow. Kent has been checked out of society for over two decades. Not to mention, I think he was raised on a farm anyway? You’re a city boy with a masters in education and your support system is here. He’s not going to fit right into the life you've moulded for yourself immediately. That whole grungy, off the grid, lumberjack living isn't your thing.” Nathan sighed. “You say all that like I like Kent.” Reid threw his arms up. “Are you kidding me? Nathan, you're obsessed with Kent. You have been this whole time. Did I tell you about the night he left the facility?” “No...” “You broke out to try and go after him,” Reid said. “A guard and I had to chase you through the facility. You were inconsolable. You didn't even eat anything that night.” “That was the wolf, not me,” Nathan said. Reid sighed. “Lad, you need to stop separating yourself from the wolf. It's still you. I've known you as the wolf. It's still very much you in there. You just lose your inhibitions. You feel the rain on your skin.” Nathan groaned. “I fucking hate you.” “No one else can feel it for you.” “Stop.” “Only you can let it in.” “Yeah, well you're trying to speak the words on my lips!” Nathan growled, hitting Reid with a throw pillow. “But you can't!” Reid grinned. He leaned over and took his friend’s arm. “Nathan. Tell me the truth. Do you have feelings for Kent?” Nathan hesitated and crossed his arms. “That's... I barely know him.” “That's not a ‘no'.” “Reid... He's not an option,” Nathan said. “We don't even get along. If I have any feelings for Kent, it's frustration, rage, hate.” “Grief, loss, yearning, relief, appreciation,” Reid added on. “You've exhibited all of those towards him as well.” “You're full of bullshit, Reid...” Nathan growled. Reid patted his leg. “You don't have to act on any of it, but you can't deny that you're very happy he's alive and you're a little excited to see him again this weekend.” “I am not. I'm more afraid to see him than anything,” Nathan said. “I have to go up to the middle of nowhere with my babies. Without Dax... I... It's scary.” Reid tilted his head. “Scary because you're taking your weans off the grid or ‘cause you're scared to face you feelings alone?” “Reid...” “Well, I could go with you,” Reid said. Nathan blinked. “You could?” “Of course! I'd love to see Kent again,” Reid said. “I've only spoken to him once ever.” “You don't have work?” “No, Syd still doesn't entirely trust me to take on a full workload, so I can get a whole weekend off, no problem.” “Are you still in recovery?” Nathan asked. “Well, sort of...” Reid said. “I've been fine for weeks now, I'd say. But Aoife and Syd both are teamed up against me. They're worried stress could trigger ‘relapse' and I ‘need to take my medication on time'.” “You do need to take your meds on time, what?” Nathan frowned. “No one gets it,” Reid sighed. “Not taking regular medication helped me get closer to my breakthrough. The whole ghost thing worked best when I wasn't medicated! A clean, chemically unaltered vessel made it work!” Nathan hesitated. “Maybe you shouldn't come up with me.” “No! Nathan, come on!” Reid shook his shoulder. “I’m not allowed to practice my research anyway, so I've been on my meds this whole time. I swear it. I'm just expressing my desire not to be for educational research purposes...” “That's still very concerning,” Nathan said. “I swear to you, I will be on my best behaviour,” Reid promised. “I want to see Kent again.” Nathan took a deep breath. “Why do I feel like a parent being begged to go to the candy store?” “Please. And any time you want to talk to Kent alone, or be alone yourself, I will watch the twins for you,” Reid said. “I don't even know if I'm comfortable with that.” “I'll change the dirty diapers all weekend.” “Deal.” “Ahh! Thank you!”

[sixofpomegranates]

Rain in California - Act 1 - Fame

🥀Mini Series “Rain in California” Act 1 - Part 3 - Fame🥀

✨My Main Masterlist✨ | 18+ | AO3 | Wattpad

🥀Soundtrack🥀 | ✨Aestethic Trailer✨ |  🥀Masterlist🥀 | Words: 6.4k

🥀click here for the previous chapter🥀

TW: ANGST (LIKE REALLY),  mention of loss/death/addiction/sobriety/murder/abortion/miscarriage, suicidal thoughts/tendencies, depression, addiction, substance abuse, drugs, alcohol, ABUSIVE RELATIONSHIP, mentions of OD, PTSD, Self-Harm/Cutting, religious trauma, past physical/psychological abuse on child/teen, abusive parents, teen pregnancy, murder, injustice, withdrawal symptoms,

Songs in this Chapter:

Heartbeat - Don Johnson

Seven hours and a Gastric Suction later, [y/n] felt like hell.

Her throat hurt and the medication they´d given her didn’t work. Now she laid in her hospital room, in her uncomfortable bed and was mostly angry at herself. [y/n] didn’t know why she had acted so stupid…well, probably because she had been high as hell. Not feeling able to control herself, when taken more than usual.

 She didn’t want to be so erratic, but when she was high, it just all seemed so easy. Saying the things she thought, doing things she normally would never even dare thinking of, not being hurt by others...On drugs she felt free. Herself.

Although she didn’t even know who she was anymore.

 When Spencer was holding her in the bathroom?

That was the first time somebody had said something to her about her addictions, except for ‘Are you sure that’s a good idea?’, ’It´s not that bad.’, ‘We´re here once you´re ready.’ and ’She´s just having a rough time.’.

It was the first time somebody really seemed to see through her and literally forced her to look at herself in the mirror. To care for her enough to show her tough love. Leroy, Hank and Tom had tried it, but given up on her, sure they supported and cared for her still, but for them she was already too far gone. And they were probably right about it.

 But the dog? He still had wanted to help her, even after she tried being her ugliest.

 She had gone too far, still remembering his face, the terror in it, when she cut her wrist, when she had taken all her pills at once. [y/n] had wanted to hurt him like that, her mind, her stupid junkie mind, had her convinced, that doing it would be a great way to get back at him.

Because she felt hurt, being rejected by him.

 Most likely she had scarred him for life. And now he hadn’t come in, since she was allowed to have visitors, and probably would never come back.

 She has successfully driven away the only one that had still cared enough.

 Now, mostly sober, she felt like a monster, aware that she was a wreck beyond repair.

 Of course she had, in the beginning, thought about stopping. But the drugs were the smaller evil to her, since they calmed her mind and made her forget the pain. She would stay alone forever, unworthy other people´s love, her mind should at least be allowed to be numb.

 *****

 “I came as fast as I could. What happened?”, Philip handed Spencer a duffle bag, filled with [y/n]´s clothing. He had asked him to bring it, since Spencer didn’t know how long she would stay.

“They pumped her stomach and had to stitch the wound on her wrist.”, he stated, making the short manager´s eyes go wide.

“Are you insane? What if they hurt her vocal cords?”, the tall one tried to remain calm, but had to really force himself to not hit Philip.

 Why was that a priority?

 “I didn’t wanna let her die. She could´ve OD´d. What would you have done?”, Spencer asked slightly aggravated.

“Carry her to the bathroom and force her to throw up, until nothing´s in her stomach anymore. Then I usually take her to bed and give her water every hour and feed her soup until she´s better.”, the manager explained and Spencer felt like that had to be a joke.

 “That has happened before?”, he asked baffled and Philip nodded. “Yeah, a couple of times, but she always either took something or cut herself. Never both at the same time. Where you two fighting again?”, he asked reproachful and Spencer felt the guilt sink into his heart. “See, agent Prentiss? This is why I said, [y/n] didn’t need a bodyguard.”

“I´m sorry, but I don’t think that this is the result of having a bodyguard. It´s much more one to them not getting along and [y/n] being highly addicted to a couple of substances.”, Emily stepped in for Spencer.

 The manager just ignored the her obvious insinuation of the rockstars declining mental help, before going into [y/n]´s room. The agents then just looked at each other before going in too.

 *****

 This was the first time Spencer saw [y/n], since they got here. He hadn’t been able to bring himself to be alone with her before. She was laying in her bed, bandage on her left wrist, looking directly at him when he came in. They had taken of her make-up, making Spencer realize, that she was prettier without it. Her jet black, dark hair in a ponytail. To him she looked calmer and softer like this. The real girl behind the façade. Philip was already all over her.

 “[y/n], you look awful.”, he said, shaking up the pillow as she got up a little, to sit.

“Feel like it too.”, her voice sounded a little raspy.

“Poor girl. How is your voice? Do you need anything?” “Fine. My throat´s just a little sore. Can you check me out of here? The faster, the better. That way I can go home without the media knowing.”, Spencer and Emily shared a look.

“The paparazzies showed up an hour ago.”, Emily stated, making [y/n] nod.

 She leaned further back in her pillow and looked at Spencer, like she wanted to say something.

 “C-Can you still check me out, Philly?”, Philip nodded.

“Of course. I´ll be back asap and then we´ll take you home so you can pack.”, he walked outside and [y/n] looked at Emily.

“Can – I don’t know – you maybe go with him?”, she asked her friendly.

 The dark haired woman shared a look with Spencer, who nodded at her. Signaling, that he was okay being alone with the singer again. Emily then nodded and walked after Philip, closing the door on her way out. For a second Spencer thought about leaving the room too. To, no longer, have this black-haired demon take hits against his sanity, but then her voice cut into the silence of the room.

 “I´m sorry.”, she said and Spencer wondered, if she was being honest.

“For almost killing yourself?”, he asked her sarcastically and she shook her head.

“For how I treated you.”

“I´ve been through worse. You´d need to be trying way harder, if you want me to break.”, he answered her cold and she began looking at her hands.

“I´m sorry, I tried pressuring you, to take drugs.”, Spencer shrugged at that. “You were high. If I didn’t relapse after the love of my life was killed or when I was put wrongfully into prison, I won´t relapse because a pretty girl is offering me drugs.” “Doesn’t make it better or okay. I saw the token in your room, when I was looking for my pills. I knew and still did it. You must really hate me.”, [y/n]´s voice sounded like she was about to cry.

“I don’t hate you.”, he said gently, sitting down on her bed. [y/n] let out a self-degrading laugh and looked at him, tears filling her eyes. “No, it´s okay. I deserve it.”, she looked over to her IV drip bag, filled with clear liquid, and hit it slightly. “That stuff makes me sentimental.”, she tried saying jokingly, but sounded just sad.

 Spencer looked at her for a while, thinking about what he could say. He hadn’t thought she would apologize for how she acted and he had meant what he had told her. He didn’t hate her. Yes, she was emotionally draining to be around, it wasn’t all bad though.

 Spencer remembered Philip and how he had talked about the two sides of people.

 “That´s no medication, [y/n].”, she looked at him confused. “You lost a lot of water so…Yeah. What you´re feeling is the drugs wearing off.”, he cooed, holding himself back with the rambling. “Nice. That´s what every junkie loves to hear.”, both chuckled a little. “Hey, I give you ten thousand dollar, if you get me some pills, my head hurts like hell.”, she said it in a joking manner, making Spencer chuckle and shake his head.

“No chance. I´m not bribable.”

“Makes you one of few in Hollywood.”, the sound of rain made [y/n] look to the window. “Can you open it?”, he nodded and got up. “Thanks. I love the sound of rain. People always portrait it to be so sad when it rains, but I think it´s nice…cleansing.”

 He opened the window and sat next to her bed on the chair. They listened to the sound of raindrops hitting the streets for a while, when he decided to take the shot and ask [y/n], what had been on his mind for the last hours.

 “Why are you doing it?”, she looked at Spencer, making a questioning noise. “Cutting yourself, taking drugs.”

“The pain makes you feel alive and the drugs help you hide the side effects of being it.”, Spencer chuckled a little.

“So melodramatic.”

 High, she would have probably devoured him, but now she only smirked and rolled her eyes. By now a certain realness tried finding its way in both their voices.

 “What was your reason for taking them then?”, she asked, leaning in his direction.

 Spencer thought a second, honesty was earned and he wanted her to be honest with him. So he gave her a trust bonus, reviling a bit of his darkness.

 “I wasn’t giving the chance of choosing to take them. I was kidnapped and my tormentor, at least one of his personalities, thought he would help me handling the pain.”

 He could´ve sworn to see empathy in her eyes, but instead of showing it or whispering words of condolences, like so many others would do in this situation, she just smiled.

 “And there I was, thinking you´re just a hypocrite.”, he shrugged. “Well…I am one.” “How?”, [y/n] asked, a little frown appearing on her forehead. “Because you were right. I think you are attractive and maybe my motive wasn’t all just about protecting you at the concert.”, he could feel himself blush.

“I´m sorry for acting out, after…you know.”

“It´s okay. Would you feel better, knowing that I really hated making the decision, to not sleep with you?”, she nodded.

“A little.” “Good. Cause it was. But it was the right thing to do.”, she smiled a little and began focusing on her hands again.

“You see, I get it now and I´m glad, at least one of us, has made a right decision tonight but…I don’t know how I´ll be to you, when I´m high again.”, her concerned voice made him take her hand. Being afraid of your own mind, no longer being able to control it, was something he was very familiar with. “Then don’t be. We could get you into rehab.”

 [y/n] chuckled and took his hand with both of hers, caressing it with her thumbs. She seemed to be thinking. Making Spencer believe she may be taking his offer. But the longer she thought, the more obvious it became, that she was losing to something dark inside her head.

“Would be a waste of time.”, she whispered, her playfulness gone, as if reality just slapped her into the face.

“But if you continue like this, you´ll be dead soon.”, [y/n] gave him a gentle smile.

“You always say that, like I don’t plan on dying with twenty-seven.”

 For a second he tried reading her, hoping she was joking, having made those suicidal jokes a little to often in the last days. When he didn’t like the answer, he prepared himself to hear it from her.

“Do you?”, she nodded. “I´m going to join ‘Club 27’ and then drift into oblivion. My songs and everything I did, only becoming an relic from the past.”

 The way she said it, made it sound like she had already made peace with that decision. It frightened Spencer, making him think of how to make her re-think it.

“What about your friends?”

“There´s only the band…and I started pushing them away from me, a long time ago. I saw how it will end for me and decided not to have it hurt them, like it hurt me, when I found my mom.”, he shook his head. He refused to accept this as an answer.

“And what about yourself? You can’t just feel like dying is the only option.” “It´s not. But it´s the most relieving one.”

 The calmness in her voice and body language showed him so much. What had driven her into that state? A state were death was seen as a relieve, because everything else hurt too much. Depression. She showed signs of it. Many people with addicted use it to cope with their mental problems. What had happened to her? His mind traveled back to the day before, to the only moments when she had let her façade slip.

 To the silver bullet that would kill her.

 “What happened to your baby?”, he asked her stern and she looked at him defeated.

“Oh, I see…I´ve been profiled. What do you think happened?”

“You lost it.”, she nodded, but he continued, carefully watching her body language. He wanted answers, but would stop when she would get too uncomfortable. “Probably because of your abusive father.”, she nodded again, seeming a little numb to his words. “Was he religious?”, the black-haired girl chuckled and answered him a little sarcastic.

“Depends on how religious you´d call a reverend. Why?”

“Religious trauma or trying to shock people. Your music, I mean.”

 For a second [y/n] let go of his hand, making him rest in her lap. Spencer refused to pull it away, if she would start talking, he wanted her to know that he was still there. He had, by now, enough pieces of the puzzle, showing him a dark picture of her past. A reason, why she tried to be high so often.

 Reality was a sharp knife and its cuts couldn’t hurt so bad, when you numb yourself.

 “My father was always hitting my mom, but when she then took off, there was only me and him. He forced me into the mold of the perfect, religious daughter and when I wasn’t as obedient as he would´ve liked, he´d make me read the bible for hours and beat me senseless.”, she started gesturing to her stomach and chest area. “Of course only hitting me in places, nobody would see the bruises. When I was fifteen, I got caught trying to smoke for the first time, by a teacher. As they notified my father, he locked me into the dark broom closet for a week. Out of spite, I then started smoking regularly and met a boy through it, Daniel.”

 Spencer watched [y/n]´s face light up for a second. She looked like JJ or Rossi, when they were talking about Will and Krystall. Like he probably did, when he was thinking about Maeve.

 “He went to the same school as I and his abusive parents were addicts, like my mom had been. We kinda bonded over that and would sneak out at night, spending hours together, talking about the stupidest things. Thinking we were so deep and intellectual. He, at one point, started stealing his parents weed, so we could get high together. Made getting beaten easier. The time with Daniel was the first and last time I ever felt those butterflies. You know? This childish feeling of love?”

 She smiled at him as he nodded, remembering those butterflies too, but then the smile darkened and she took Spencer’s hand again. As if to try and hold onto him, shielding herself from the dark memories creeping up.

 “I got pregnant with sixteen. A shame. I managed to hide it for a few weeks and Daniel and I came up with the childish idea of running away together. We thought, we could just get jobs somewhere else, buy a home and become a family…Like foolish kids.”, her self-degrading laugh broke Spencer’s heart, as she tried swallowing her tears.

“And it didn’t work.”, he whispered and she only laughed, voice dripping in sarcasm. “Of course it didn’t. A woman from church had overheard us talking and the rumor of me being pregnant was already out there, since I threw up so often at school. So she thought she would help me, if she told my father.”, Spencer squeezed her hand a little. “You wanna know what he did?”, he shook his head.

 “What?”

“He waited for us to meet at night. As I crawled out of the window, he stormed outside with his shotgun and confronted us. After I admitted to being pregnant he hit me, making Daniel step between us and start fighting with my dad to protect me and the baby…and my dad- he-…he then just shot him. In-…In cold blood, just pulled the fucking trigger.”, [y/n] voice was filled with disbelieve. Like she still wasn’t able to believe what she had seen.

 “My father then grabbed me by the hair and tried getting me to go back into the house. I, obviously shocked about him just shooting my boyfriend, refused to and so he started beating and kicking me, till I stopped fighting back…Needless to say, I lost the baby after that.”

 As a few tear ran down her face, she let go of Spencer´s hand and wiped them away. Letting a cynical laugh follow.

 “That’s not even the best part of the story. Nothing happened.”, Spencer looked at her frowning.

“What do you mean with ‘Noting happened’. He shoot a teenager. Weren’t there any repercussions?”, she shook her head.

“No. Because he told the police, that he came outside to me screaming, because Daniel was beating me. Angry at me, for being pregnant. He stated that he just did what he had to do, to protect me.”, he shook his head in disbelieve.

“Weren’t you questioned? Didn’t you tell them what really happened?”

“I would try telling, but nobody believed it. Because the reverend, a pillar of our community, would never do such thing. They thought I was just lashing out and framing my father, because I was high and angry at him for shooting my boyfriend...Daniel´s parents didn’t even care, too high to get what had happened. After that, I wasn’t allowed to go to school anymore, in fact, I wasn’t allowed to do anything anymore. My father taught me at home and every Sunday I was allowed to go to church and pray to have my sins being forgiven.”

 Spencer nodded at the amount of information she had just given him.

He felt bad for her, started to understand her, started to hate her father and the cruel injustice she, Daniel and the baby had suffered.

Why had they only once, tried to get her into therapy?

The amount of suffered trauma had to end in a situation like this, left untreated.

It was eating her alive, suffocating her, and everybody who saw it, just slapped the ‘She´s gonna be okay’-Band-Aid on this gashing wound, moving on with their own life´s, while she was losing the battle inside her head. He got up and sat on the bed next to her, she scooted a little, giving him some room to lean back too. As he lifted an arm, [y/n] rested her head on his chest.

 “Then how did you get…viral…?”, he looked at him and the confused spoken word, smiling.

“You know about that?”

“Luke.”, he answered and she nodded. “I wasn’t allowed to have a phone, but I was allowed to use our computer once a week for an hour. I would record myself singing and playing guitar on our shitty webcam and started uploading it, not thinking anybody would ever see it. With eighteen I got in contact with this guy, he said he was in the midst of establishing his own record label and he would love to pay my flight to LA, taking me under contract. I accepted and just ran as fast as I could, before my father could get me.”

 [y/n] again laughed cynical. Seemingly a coping mechanism of hers, to play down the pain and severity of things and situations.

 “When I arrived, he then offered me to stay with him, if I´d be…you know…nice to him. He earned a shit ton of money with my music, while I got nothing…But everything was better than going back home again.”, she sat up a little, so she could look at Spencer, again with that sparkle in her eyes.

 “At one point, when I didn’t want to have sex with him anymore, I had to work at a pizza restaurant to afford rent. There I met Leroy, Tom and Hank at the Open-Mic-Night. I told them a little about what was going on and Hank sued that guys ass. He didn’t want anything in return…just happy to help me. If you think Hank is scary now, you would have shit yourself, seeing him in court!”

 Both chuckled. Spencer could, thankfully, only imagine how terrifying the fifty year old biker could get.

 “After winning the case I asked them if they were interested in becoming a band and we made some demo tracks with the money I had gotten. The label took us under contract and introduced us to Philip, who became our manager.”

 “But you weren’t into anything but marijuana. How did we end up here?”, she sighed.

 “The label has a lot of expectations surrounding me. One of them was for me, to go out and be publicly seen with their other artists, for the image. They were taking a lot of stuff and I always said no, sticking to weed. But somewhere along the line, I wanted to know how it felt. If my mom was right, for choosing it above me. And I think I get it now. Everything I told you before? My dad, my baby, Daniel? They´re gone. I´m able to standup for myself and not letting me being pushed into something I don’t want, like when that creep wanted me to whore myself out to him, just so I´d have a roof over my head. Life is just easier that way and thankfully shorter too.”, Spencer pulled her closer.

 “I like you like that.”, he almost whispered. “Depressed?”, [y/n] snickered and he chuckled, shaking his head. “Real.”

“Only fair. I´ve been a real bitch to you, the whole time.”, he shook his head again. “Not that bad.”, she hit his chest gently, while giggling. “Oh, please. I can handle it. Come on.”, he sighed playfully, admitting the truth. “Okay, yeah. You´ve been a bitch.”

 They laid there for a while, [y/n] seemingly thinking, before she talked again.

 “You´re gonna pass on babysitting duty for me now, I guess?”, she asked hesitant, making him chuckle.

“Nope. I´m gonna stay.”, [y/n] sat up and looked at him, like he had completely lost his mind.

“Why in the world, are you doing that to yourself?”, Spencer shrugged. “Savior complex.” “I´m not worth it.”, he shrugged again. “I know. But the sober girl inside you is. You know? The one that knows my name, speaks French with me while playing Mozart and puts a blanket over me when I fall asleep while reading.”

 Then she asked him something that hit too close to home. Revealing a reality he liked to ignore.

 “You can’t save everybody. You´re aware of that, right?”, he nodded as she laid back into bed, her head resting against his chest again. “But I can try.”, Spencer whispered against her ear.

“Would you mind just watching TV with me? Withdrawal headache´s a bitch.”

 Spencer grabbed the remote and turned the TV on. After many attempts of finding something interesting, [y/n] stopped him from switching the channels. They had come across an 80´s music special. Something with the name ‘Heartbeat’ by Don Johnson had just started playing. Although [y/n] didn’t move a lot, Spencer could tell she was excited. Moving her lips along the lyrics.

  “I don't care what you say

You can give it away

 Your money don't mean much to me.

I've been out on my own

Gonna got it alone now

 'Cause that's the way it's got to be.

Ev'rybody tells me how I can beat the odds for now.

Well I've been standing by the fire

But I just can't feel the heat.”

  “That’s a great song.”, Spencer shrugged, again not feeling too much connection to the music. But it did sound nice. At his shrugging she hit him a little and put on a badly played face of disbelieve and shock. “Show some respect for the classics!”, he laughed at her words. “Respect for the classics? You called Beethoven a deaf bitch.”, now [y/n] shrugged. “Touché.”, she giggled, laying her hand on her head as if to ease the pain.

  “Looking at me

It's easy to see

 You think you know just how I feel.

If you do to me wrong and it won't take me long

 Before my restless heart will heal.

I'm looking for a love

Love like mine”

  “That was good music back then.”, she whispered against his chest. “Heart break, real emotions…love that stuff.”

“Why don’t you play more of it then?”, Spencer asked, Luke in his mind telling him about their music just no longer trying to hit the feelings. [y/n] giggled a little. “I´m guessing…Luke told you?”, he nodded and she let out a sigh. “Remember when I told you about the label having expectations? Every song I make has to go through them first, before being released. At one point, I had nine songs, completely done and they only greenlit one of them. Told me the others ‘weren´t my style’, ‘not exactly my genre’ or ‘wouldn’t speak to my audience enough’. So I just stopped looking for the deeper emotions. Still love the music I make, but the feeling´s dead. My lyrics helped me coping at the beginning, but the restrictions the label set me, ended that.” “Why don’t you just write those songs again? It doesn’t matter if anybody hears them.”, he suggested to her chuckling in response.

  “They tell me it's so hard to find

But I can feel it in the rhythm of the heartbeat in the street.

 Heartbeat - I'm looking for a heartbeat”

  “If a tree falls in a forest and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound, mon amour?”, Spencer looked at her for a second, flustered by the realness she let him see.

“Yes. For me it would.”, he told her, making her giggled. “I probably lost my ability for stronger emotions anyway. But thanks, Spencer.”

 His heart skipped a beat as she said his name.

  “Heartbeat - I'm looking for a heartbeat

Beating like mine.”

  As the door opened Spencer quickly jumped up, Emily looking at him with a lifted eyebrow.

 “Uhmm…Hello?”, she asked, more meant as a ‘What´s going on?’. Philip walked in right after her, not having seen the both of them more or less cuddling in the hospital bed.

“Oh no, it´s raining again.”, he sighed as he closed the window and stepped aside for the nurse, who took out the IV from [y/n]´s arm. “Okay. I got you released from hospital, [y/n]. I have the papers and ta-da.”, he handed her a white little paper bag. “Your pain medication and antibiotics for the arm.”

 “Thanks.”, she answered and passed it over to Spencer. “Ca-Can you…so I take them correctly?”, he looked at her confused.

 “You sure?”, she nodded and Spencer smiled at her. Baby steps. “Of course.”

“I thought Dr. Reid would stop his bodyguard duty, now that you´re going to stay with me?”, [y/n] shrugged.

“I- I don’t know.” “You know, I can protect you too.”, Philip insured her. “Yeah…but I would feel safer with my guard dog around.”, she looked at the tall man. “Only if you´d be okay with that, Spencer.”

“More than okay.”, Spencer smiled at her, making her smile back.

“O-Okay, that´s fine. That´s gonna be fine. Dr. Reid can sleep in my office. Now get dressed, so we can pack your stuff at home.”

 Philip handed [y/n] her black duffle bag, Spencer had put on the floor next to her bed. She opened it and pulling out some jeans and a black sweater. When she tried to get up she was a shaky on her legs, but managed to go to the bathroom. Spencer stayed close to her, being able to catch her in case she´d fall. When she closed the door behind her, he looked at Philip and Emily.

 “How many paparazzies are out there?”, he asked and Emily held her breath, shortly thinking.

“Too many. Just checked before coming in. You guys better think of a plan, if you don’t want [y/n] to be seen by them and become five o'clock news.”, both men nodded and then looked at each other.

“Okay…so, Philip? Where do you park?”, Spencer asked. “Outside, visitors.”, he nodded and looked to his friend.

“Me too. Emily, you?”

“Car park.”, she answered and Spencer handed her his key.

“Okay. We trade. I take [y/n] home in Emily´s SUV. Emily takes [y/n]´s car and you, Philip, you just drive to the mansion. Maybe we can make them think she´s still in medical care, that way.”, all of them nodded to each other, not really knowing what more there was to tell. Not knowing if the plan would even work.

 *****

 When [y/n] looked in the mirror, in the tiny bathroom of her hospital room, after washing her face, she felt okay. Horrible, but okay.

 Feeling kind of stupid, having given Spencer her medication. It had felt right. But she didn’t know why. Did she want to make him happy? Well, he certainly was. But honestly? Nobody just stops being addicted for one person. Having your addiction tendencies being bound and under control solely for another person than yourself probably never works in the long term.

She knew she would have to stop for herself and that just wasn’t worth it.

She just wasn’t worth it.

Spencer would leave again, he was just another person in her life that would vanish, never to be heard from again. Her life would move on, just like it did now and that was it. It was okay like that. There wasn’t much to be expected anymore and she had made her peace with it. Having lost the will to try years ago.

 Somehow she had decided however, to enjoy the few moments she would still have with this man. A man she barely knew, but yet, felt so interest in. A man that either lived his best boomer life or just simply lived in a cave without Wi-Fi, giving his lack of knowledge by simple words like iconic and viral.

 Maybe it was his lack of interest in her Rockstar persona, that intrigued her. She had heard him and Philip outside of her room. Spencer had not given a single fuck, that her voice could´ve been ruined by having her stomach pumped, as long as she didn’t die. That was nice. Being more than an expensive voice. Being counted as a human.

 She wanted to know more about him, had given him her silver bullet, as a sign of trust. Now she wanted his or however much he was willing to give. Being high would ruin it, being high would maybe have her forget something. [y/n] knew she would still need to take the bare minimum of her drugs, so the withdrawal wouldn’t kill her, but for now she would like to be semi-clean. The headache and the freezing being acceptable.

 She had put on her fresh clothes, liking that they didn’t smell like cigarettes, wondering why she even smoked, when everything just started to reek and ruin the nice smell of her lavender perfume. Was it still out of spite, because her father didn’t like it?

Maybe she would quit…on the other hand…maybe just reduce them a little. For now, she didn’t have any, anyways. She would probably need some chewing gum.

 When she walked out of the bathroom Spencer smiled at her, stepping closer and his hands cupping her face.

 “Hey. You okay? You´re a little pale.”, she quickly nodded, her heart beating as fast as it always did shortly before a concert.

“Yeah, just not wearing any makeup, so…”, he shook his head, thumb stroking her cheek.

“Uh-uh. You weren’t pale like that before. You feeling sick?”, actually yes, she did.

“A little.”

“We´re gonna get you something to eat later and then you should take a nap. Philip is going to drive in his car and we´ll meet him at your house. Emily already left.”, [y/n] nodded, quickly stepping away from Spencer. She hadn’t even noticed Philip still being there, while he smiled at them.

“I´m gonna leave now and you guys just go to the garage and wait a few minutes. When something happens you call me, okay [y/n]?”, she nodded, Spencer taking her duffle bag as Philip hugged her and then left.

 She and Spencer went to the car park, her having the hood from her sweater pulled into her face, hoping nobody would recognize her. The last thing she wanted was a media scandal, so shortly after the her teen-pregnancy was brought to light. People talking about the ‘out of control’-Rockstar almost dying due to an overdose. Not that they were completely wrong, but still. She hated when strangers acted like they knew her, only because they read one of those crappy articles.

 When they got into the car Spencer turned on the seat heating, without saying a word, only smiling at her. Why was he so nice? Was it his savior complex or did he just have a great personality?

 Driving to her mansion in silence, they were met with an array of paparazzies in front of it. Spencer parked across the street. [y/n] quickly fixed her hair, should they notice her and start making photos.

 “Tinted windows, they don’t see you.”, he told her, making her relax.

 For a second she thought about how much she hated this. The flashes of the cameras pointed into her face, only inches away from it. Asking her inappropriate question, because fame cancelled out the right of privacy. They were always waiting for her to do something, to be put on a blast for.

 Maybe she could just, a little longer, be a no one. Like she seemed to be, alone with Spencer.

With Philip, she never had even five minutes to herself. Yes he was nice, but he was so in-your-face sometimes. Smothering her with care.

 “Spencer?” “Hm?”, he turned to her. “Would it be okay, to just go undercover?”, Spencer raised his eyebrows. “Undercover?”, her cheeks flushed a little.

“Yeah…get a hotel room and some junk food maybe…” “What about Philip?”

“I´ll text him…I- I´d just like to be alone.”, he nodded at her words, already starting the car again. “Oh, sure. I get that.” “Alone with you.”, was that sentence too bold? “I know. Already thought so.”, he put a hand on her thigh, gently squeezing it. She smiled at this gentle gesture. “Any hotel okay?”, he asked her, as she laid her hands on his, wanting to make sure it stayed there. “Sure. But you´ll need to get the room. I tend to attract attention.” “Really?”, he asked in a playful voice, as he pulled into the main street. “Yeah, apparently I look like this one singer from a rock band.”, she answered, giggling, even though it killed her head. “Huh, weird. Wouldn’t have noticed.”, he almost whispered, seeming to have noticed it.

“Maybe we should get me some nicotine patches too.”, she smiled, making him look at her surprised.

“Stopped smoking?” “Yeah, thought I´d try it. Maybe you can smell my perfume better like that. Lavender.”, Spencer chuckled. “Sexy. Kissing a smoker only seems good in the movies.” “You know movies?”, she said, playfully mocking him. “Russian and black-and-white ones.”

“You´re a little nerd, huh?

“Hope that’s not a deal breaker?”, she looked at his little worried, almost insecure look.

 Yes, the junkie who just ruined his night, by having a mental breakdown, would think a nice, smart guy that liked watching ‘Dr. Who’ was a dealbreaker.

“It´s actually kinda cute.”, he let out an adorable giggle and for a second she could feel her heart skip a beat.

 *****

 Spencer had gotten them a hotel room in a small hotel with individual, private entrances. Definitely not as classy as [y/n] was used to, but private enough, not to be seen. Before, he had bought her nicotine patches and gum and they had gotten some pizzas.

 Now her arm was plasters with some of the patches and they sat on the bed, eating pizza and watching ‘10 things I hate about you’, making him see just how quirky [y/n] could be. Singing along to every song, telling him how much she loved watching it, secretly at a friend’s home, as a teen; giggling like crazy when something funny happened and gushing over things she thought to be romantic. Spencer had given her her medication and the withdrawal, at least in the moment, seemed to be manageable.

 After the movie she had insisted on him picking something, making him extremely nervous. He didn’t think that any of his picks would have her enjoy the next two hours, but she didn’t let him say no. So he put in an old black and white movie called ‘La Dolce Vita’, about a week in the life of a philandering tabloid journalist living in Rome. He laid down in bed and signaled [y/n] to come closer. She had quickly cuddled up beside him, seemingly touch starved by the way she held him close. A very familiar feeling for Spencer.

 After he had begun stroking her hair, she had fallen asleep faster, then he had fallen for her.

 Seeming to like every side of her, every part, no matter how damaged or ugly. Spencer had pulled the sleeping girl a little closer, gently kissing the top of her head and smiling to himself. What he had smelled two days ago, had been lavender. He drifted of as well, only waking up half an hour later, when the credits woke him.

Turning the TV off, before laying close to [y/n] again, now spooning up behind her, face buried in the crook of her neck, arms wrapped tightly around her.

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To be continued...

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[joyhigh]

Had ideas floating around involving delving more into his backstory with the uncles as well as past interactions with Dusty, but then I ended up having this more Lisa-related concept pop up that emotionally hit me over the head, stomped me into the curb and took my wallet, so...this is the result.

A few notes, as Buddy obvs isn’t raised by Brad in this AU I decided she would go by a different name here(Sunny). Apologies if it’s as weird to read as it was to write, haha. She’s about 7 here, this is some time before the events of Painful.

Content warnings(getting dark here so please do take care): Descriptions of abuse, suicide, addiction and relapse

“You know the drill, right?” 

“Wait and be quiet until you wave.” Sunny’s small hand pokes out from underneath her ill-fitting poncho to demonstrate, her motions quick and jittery. The pale mask obscuring her face does nothing to hide the way her shoulders bounce in excitement as the two sit against the wall of the hut, the way her feet drum against the rust-colored earth below. 

“Mhm.” Bernard grunts in affirmation. “And until then stay out of sight while I’m out there, if I can see you—“

“The bad guys can too, I know.” There’s a bite of impatience to Sunny’s voice followed by a dramatic huff, the girl crossing her arms decisively. Nearly a mirror image of Jaxon, much to Bernard’s irritation. Out of all the ‘uncles’ for her to take after...

In response Bernard merely settles on a sigh and a warning look before finally standing. Today wasn’t a day for trying to play the parent and lecture on respect—his already protesting muscles and the persistent pulse of pain beneath his skull saw to that. Damn Joy. Or lack of it, for that matter. 

Stepping over threadbare blankets and supply bags strewn about the meager space, Bernard feels Sunny’s eyes on him all the while as he exits the makeshift hut. What greets him outside is nothing new—the same drab hills and looming cliffs from yesterday. He can’t understand what makes the child so excited to go out and see it all again, especially since there’s been a few other times he’s relented to her pleas. Surely she has to see eventually that there’s nothing out there of any worth. 

Bernard’s gaze drags across the horizon, searching and scanning and then double checking for any signs of movement as he treads further from the hut. They live a ways away from the closest settlement but he can never rest easy knowing of all the freaks and scavengers about. At the moment however, there is nothing but rocks and trees in deathlike stillness. The dawn is only beginning to break yet the heavy weight of humid air is already present, accompanied by a grey cover of clouds likely to be later burned away by the sun. The uncomfortable stickiness makes Bernard’s expression sour further as he turns to check back.

Immediately a small spot of white catches his eye—Sunny’s mask, peeking out of a large hole in the clay walls of the hut that can be only charitably called a window. Bernard stares a moment, does one more double take around him, then lifts his hand in a small wave. In a flash she’s already left the hut, dashing forward with faded pink poncho billowing behind her. 

“Hey. Hey,” He barely manages to catch the girl’s wrist, stopping her from speeding right past him. Antonio once joked that Sunny knew how to run before she could walk and honestly, Bernard could believe it. “Stay close, remember?”

Sunny stares at the point of contact for a moment as if contemplating resistance, but seems to decide against it as her small hand slides into his. She’s quiet for a while but her gaze is constantly moving—to the sky, the ground, the hills, until finally it locks onto something and Sunny jolts.

“What’s that?” She gasps, already starting to tug Bernard forward as she tries to move closer. At first he’s puzzled, seeing the object of her interest is nothing more than a dead tree, but then a spot of darkness perched on the gnarled branches catches his eye.

“A crow. Type of bird.” Bernard allows her to lead him forward until they arrive at the base of the tree. The crow just watches, a slight sheen of blue glimmering over its feathers in the faint morning light. 

“Like an owl?” 

“Yep. Like an owl, but more annoying-“ The sentence is soon followed by a harsh cry on part of the bird, making Sunny jump. Bernard just snickers. “Like so.”

“No he isn’t!!” Sunny sounds personally offended by this, as if she wasn’t just startled by it a moment ago. “He’s just saying good morning.”

“Sure…so what else does he have to say? Since you’re such an expert.” As if on cue the crow caws again.

“Hm.” She hums contemplatively, crossing her arms. “He says you’re stinky. And dumb.”

Bernard sharply glances sideways at her, lifting a brow. “Is that so? Well that’s rude.” Sunny just shrugs, failing miserably at stifling a giggle. “I could throw a rock at him for that, you know.” He adds, and immediately the child’s mirth disintegrates. 

“No! You can’t!” She gasps, looking anxiously between him and the bird. Bernard’s smirk widens slightly as he decides to keep this going. Maybe it’s because kids are always easy to mess with. Maybe the withdrawal’s put him in a bit of a nasty mood. 

“I dunno...there’s a lot of ‘em around, you know.” Bernard saunters about scanning the ground intently, kneeling to pick up a random piece of stone and inspecting it to fully sell the charade.

He expects another protest on part of Sunny but all that follows is silence. Bernard’s smile fades as he looks up, presented with the sight of the girl pulling herself up onto one of the tree branches.

“Sunshine, no-“ He quickly discards the stone and returns to the base of the tree, unsure if he should prepare to catch her if she falls or just try and pull her back down. “Get back here, now.” 

“If you’re gonna be mean to him, I won’t let you.” She calls back, casting only a brief glance in his direction before continuing to climb up towards the crow. The branches seem to be able to hold her small body just fine but Bernard’s form is strung with tension as he watches Sunny move further out of reach.

“Kid, I was joking.” Whether it was from the abrupt motion or the overall noise, it feels like someone’s taking a jackhammer to his skull. 

“Wasn't funny,” She huffs, pausing for a moment in her ascent as she and the bird regard each other. “Hi…” Bernard can hear her whisper, and Sunny slowly reaches forward. “Hi birdie. C‘ mere, it’s okay. It’s okay,” It’s a similar tone to one he and the others would use whenever Sunny got a scrape or bruise, however this time it doesn’t have any calming effect. As she gets closer the bird caws and with a rustle of feathers, it leaps off the branch and takes to the air. “Aw…”

“There,” Bernard winces, rubbing his temple with one hand as he watches the dark shape quickly become a small splotch in the sky. “See? There wasn’t any point to that, they don’t like people.” If Sunny’s paying attention to him he can’t tell with the mask, but even so it seems her focus is on the horizon as she surveys her surroundings.

“...I’m really high up.”

“Oh no, really?” He drawls, rolling his eyes. “Great observation, kiddo.” It’s a surprise to see the child not responding with her usual indignation, but Sunny’s mind seems elsewhere entirely. 

“I can see more things,” She points further off in the distance. “Are those other huts over there? Are they like us?” Not waiting for an answer, Sunny lifts her mask and beams down at Bernard. “Come up! You can come see too!” The shrill excitement in her voice only makes his head throb further and he can’t even bring himself to remind her of the mask.

“Just—-give me a...ugh.” Bernard finds himself leaning against the tree for support, even that small motion making his muscles twinge in protest. He’d thought he would be able to fight it off but the withdrawal was only getting worse. A headache he could handle, but when the pain spread...

Just try and breathe. In and out. He shuts his eyes and tries to remind himself he has to be here for Sunny right now, that’s why he’s going through this in the first place. Is she talking to him right now? The most he can hear is the blood roaring in his ears, a harsh ringing—

Then quiet. The pain halts, though there’s still a faint echo of the sensation through his body. Bernard lifts his head to find he’s somewhere else.

-

Nighttime. Standing in overgrown grass surrounding a run-down house seemingly banished to the far out edge of the suburbs. Her house. 

“Lisa?” The boy didn’t dare bring his voice above a hushed whisper, as always fearful breaking the silence would catch unwanted attention. The cold light of a television below her room was a nigh-constant reminder of the risk. Bernard tried not to let it distract him, eyes glued to the higher window where Lisa would appear many times before. He prayed for the creak of a window as it opened, the rustle of leaves as she would clamber down the nearby oak tree to get to him. But right now, it all was quiet. 

Something was wrong. It had been wrong the day before, when Lisa stared at him through the fresh bandages on her face, hands loosely clasped around wrists with bruises that were even more recent. The plan didn’t work. At first Bernard thought she’d be furious with him—really he would’ve preferred that. Instead as he profusely apologized Lisa just watched him with hollow eyes. That look of tired resignation terrified him even more than her anger.

Bernard shifted uneasily from foot to foot. It was a school night for him and not their usual time to meet, but he had to check on her. Even if he didn’t Bernard was sure he’d be kept up by the worry anyway. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been waiting but enough was enough.

Motions slowed by apprehension, he stood at the base of the oak and grasped the sturdiest branch he could reach. The rough bark bit Bernard’s hands as he clumsily hoisted his stout figure up, sneakers scraping against the trunk of the tree in an attempt to get more leverage. Once he regained his bearings he reached for another branch, then another. By the end of his climb he was out of breath but his lips twisted in grim triumph. Lisa’s window was right within reach. 

Past the glass-smudged glass Bernard finally saw her. She stood on the other side of the room, a shape distinguished only by the faint light filtering in from the outside. Besides that he couldn’t make much else out—had she noticed him yet? Was she ignoring him? 

As he shifted closer, timidly reaching to tap on the window, it was then he noticed two important things.

Lisa’s feet didn’t touch the floor. A rope was tied to the ceiling.

No. That couldn’t be it. Something in Bernard’s gut twisted as he leaned in, trying to make sense of what he was seeing. That couldn’t be it. The shadows were playing tricks on him—he’d seen people die like that before on television, people who did horrible things and terrified people too weak to go on, but Lisa couldn’t. His Lisa was the strongest person he knew, even if she didn’t think it. With a trembling hand he knocked on the window—once, twice. But she didn’t look at him. Just gently swayed there, her slight form limp and, and…

Lifeless.

“Lisa.” His voice broke. “Lisa.” Fist now clenched, Bernard hit it against the window with a dull thud. He didn’t care about the noise anymore, he just wanted to make her move. To make her look at him again with those soft dark eyes. But Lisa was still. 

Didn’t she tell him before? How there was another option, one that’d take her away from all of this. Bernard had felt tears well up in his eyes as he took her hands in his own, telling Lisa it would never come to that, they would find a better way. Lisa just sighed, calling him a crybaby, but she had gently squeezed his hands nonetheless. He had clung to that moment through everything. 

Now...it felt like the world was spinning around him, about to fall apart. As Bernard hunched over, unable to look anymore, his body wracked with sobs so powerful he couldn’t even make a sound beside ragged breaths. It would’ve been so easy to let go of that tree branch, let himself fall—

-

“—-dy! Dad!” A voice pierces Bernard’s ears, a sudden brightness combined with the returning headache making him squint. All at once his real surroundings come back.

“Fuck.” Is all he manages to gasp out at first, blindly grasping for a steady hold onto something, anything, before his balance falters. His hands find a branch, bark pale and dead beneath his palms, his eyes lowering to see the dusty ground further below his feet.

“...Dad? What happened?” Sunny sits across from him on another branch. The fear in her small voice, the trust given by that title, it all makes something ache in Bernard’s chest besides the withdrawal. He can’t stand it. 

“I told you not to call me that,” Bernard mutters , not making eye contact as he unsteadily clambers down from the branches. “We’re going home.” He can’t stand being in that tree another second, not after seeing that. 

“But—but why can’t I stay longer?” Sunny sniffs, only reluctantly starting to follow and Bernard tries not to notice how she sounds on the verge of tears. 

“Because I said so, now move.” Before the girl can even properly respond the last shreds of his patience dissipate and Bernard reaches up, pulling her out of the tree with not as much care as he probably should’ve taken. As they march across the dirt and grit Sunny makes a frustrated sound, attempting to wiggle her hand out of his grip. Soon the futility of that becomes apparent and she eventually falls in line, albeit still sniffling and dragging her feet. It’s only when the hut is a few paces away that she speaks again, voice fragile. 

“...who’s Lisa?”

Bernard falters in his tracks, that name bringing back a rush of memories he’s been trying to keep at bay every step from that tree. His pace slows as his brain makes a weak attempt at forming an explanation, but fortunately before he can speak there’s movement in the doorway of the hut. 

Antonio squints at them through the morning sun, no doubt adjusting from the dim candlelight of the dug out level underground where the others sleep. Bernard just watches sullenly as the man lifts a hand in greeting, already anticipating how he’ll soon detect the change in mood. All it takes is a few glances between the two and Antonio’s expression darkens with a frown. He doesn’t bother with further pleasantries. “What happened?” It’s like an accusation, but Bernard doesn’t even have the energy to get defensive.

“Just...take her.” Bernard can’t meet the other’s scrutinizing gaze as he nudges Sunny forward in Antonio’s direction. He only catches a glimpse of the girl rushing to her uncle’s side before he turns away.

“Bernard-“ 

“Relax, she’s just sulking cause she wanted to stay out some more,” He tries to sound as relaxed as he can to avoid suspicion, waving a hand dismissively as he begins to head around the back of the hut. It’s easier when Antonio can’t see his face. “I’ll be back.” 

If Antonio replies, Bernard is already too far away to hear. Some of his tension eases with the knowledge that the others will be too preoccupied by Sunny to try and follow him. No judgement, no pity. None of them can understand this. None of them can understand why a small, pale figure with raven-dark hair stares at him as he clambers down a craggy cliff edge. Bernard shuts his eyes, the bite of the rope keeping him grounded as he falls into the rhythm of his descent.

When at last his feet touch ground again the realization of what he’s doing kicks in, and with it rises a sharp hunger in his core. It’s been so long since Bernard had dared go near this spot with the knowledge of what he’d left there long ago. But he needs it now, needs to forget for at least a little while. Bernard turns, eyes opening eagerly to see that familiar blue dotting the earth. 

The pills are there waiting for him, right where he left them.