#ms lauren i really wish you didn’t leave but i hope your new life is awesome

[jackalhadrurusluvr]

how to cry for help without crying for help

[floatinginwords]

Saved by the Devil (12/?) - Tommy Shelby

Summary: One week before Epsom you or tommy can get your minds off one another

Paring: Tommy Shelby x fem!reader (romantic)

A/N: sorry it took so long for me to post this chapter. this semester is just killing me. i really hate online school dude. oh and fair warning i did not proof read this so there might be mistakes please be forgiving towards them. Hope you enjoy and have a fantastic night.

One week before Epsom. A lot was going through your head as time seem to go faster and faster. Tommy hadn’t called you or seen you since you were last in Birmingham.

‘Probably busy with May’ you thought to yourself. You rolled your eyes as you recount her giggles and flirtatious behavior.

 “What was that?” Trinity asks. You almost forgot she was in the same room as you. You almost forgot you were in her house. Giving her the last of what you needed for when you were ready to runaway from the country.

 “Sorry, just thinking.” You say, going back to sipping your tea.

 “Okay, is there anything else I need to worry about or hide for you.”

 “Well hopefully I wont need to have so many fake ids, and I can get a legitimate one.” You say sighing.

 “Hows that going?”

 “Its going.” You say, though you weren’t really sure if helping Thomas Shelby ensured you for what you wanted. Its why you had a backup plan. You always did.

 “When are you leaving, (Y/n)?” Trinty asks.

 “next Friday hopefully.”

 Trinitys eyes almost pop out of their socket. “That soon?!”

 You nod. Right after Epsom you were gone. You needed to make quick moves and this one seemed the quickest and smartest. You were starting to recognize faces on trains and buses. Men were following you. You didn’t know who these men were and why they casually followed you places but it helped you make an important decision that it was time to leave. And soon.

 “What are you gonna do about Thomas Shelby?”

 “What about him?”

 She wiggles her eyebrows at you.

 “No.” You say.

 “oh cmon, you want him a little bit at least.”

 “Not even.” You lie.

“Oh cmon he calls you and you rush to him like a puppy and vice versa. Ada told me that when she called him when you were missing he dropped everything to help you, even rushed over himself.” She says

 “Trinity please drop it. Hes just someone good to have around.”

 “Yea he is.” She says suggestively.

 “No.” You say but the two of you end up giggling at Trinity’s antics as you enjoy the rest of your afternoon.

  Thomas Shelby stares across at the empty seat that not too long ago held a sitting Grace. It felt like years since he had seen her. And he thought that the same emotions from before, from every other time he saw her would brew back up and he’d be in love with her again. But as she talked about America and her new husband all he could see was the woman who betrayed him and his family. She left, nothing happened between them, though it easily could have. He sits and thinks about the woman in his life. He thinks about Greta how he held her hand as he died, Grace the way she had made him smile for the first time in years and then broke hi heart as if it was the first time ever, May who was charming but he knew he would never talk to her after (seeing as he was only using her). And there was you. No amount of words can describe you accurately. They wouldn’t do you justice. Tommy smiles as he recalls the last time he saw you. The flustered look as he said the word ‘date’ as you left the pub. Polly had demanded answers on what he was doing with you. Which he calmly replied, “Business pol, don’t worry about it.” He saw the tension between the two of you when he had walked in. He knew that polly would grow to love and trust you the more she got to know you. You were just that type of person.

Without thinking he picks up the phone, calling adas house. Lucky for him, its you that picks up.

“hello?”

“(Y/n).”

“Mr.Shelby. Are you calling for Ada?”

“No, I was calling for you. How do you feel about Charlie Chaplin?”

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

 It was only two hours ago when you had gotten back from Trinitys when the phone rang in you and Adas shared house. You picked up naturally not expecting to hear the sweet deep voice of Thomas Shelby. He had invited you out, which you accepted without thinking.  He had picked you up in a car after telling you to dress nice which you did finding a dress you never worn. It was a lovely shade of green. A pity for it to go waste.

You kept telling yourself its just business as you applied a bit of lipstick to your lips. Its just business you think as you rush down the stairs when you see his car pull up in front. Its just business you think as you open the door and see him standing there looking amazing.

 “You look exquisite.” He says And a thought sneaks up through the cracks of your mind, ‘its not just business.’

When the two of you arrive at the party, the two of you have a grand time as you mingle with famous people and eat little appetizers on plates. You ignore the drinks and the bar not wanting to get drunk.

 “Would you care for a dance?” He asks you. The two of you were sat at a table when a slow song comes on and all the couples rush to the floor.

 “I’m afraid to say that I’m not much of a dancer.” You say embarrassed by your lack of skill.

 “Im sure we can remedy that with some practice.” He smiles, taking your hand and leading you away. And you cant help but follow entranced by the way he guides you and holds you gently. The music is lovely and awfully romantic. You look everywhere else but his eyes. Knowing that you’d just end up lost within them. You watch the couples dancing, wondering which ones were in love or not. You stumble a bit as you attempt to not step on his toes. You do a good job at following his lead although you’re incredibly stiff.

 “Hey, are you okay?” Thomas voice breaks you from your thoughts. You lock eyes a time seems to stop. For a moment you think he’s gonna kiss you.

 He continues speaking, “C’mon lets get out of here.”

 The two of you head back to tommys, the silence comfortable. Though you didn’t have anything to drink, you feel drunk off his presence. You wish  now that you have talked to Trinity or Ada about your conflicting feelings because at this moment as you sit down again on his couch you had no idea how to act.

 “So Epsom…are you ready?” He says

 “As ready as ill ever be.”

 “You’ll be there right?”

 “Of course. I said I would.”

 Another smile falls on to his face as he moves to his vinyl, playing a record that was on it. He holds hi hand out again like at the party.

 “What are you doing?” You ask

 “Asking to dance, do you not want the practice.”

 You smirk and grab his hand. He pulls you in closer than before. His hand resting on your hip and his other hand intertwined with your hand. Again you try to look away from him but then fingers guide your chin to his eyes.

“Keep your eyes on me.” He says.

And you do. And for a moment you feel this gravitational pull. You see him lean forward; you close your eyes. And then…

 RING the phone rings terribly through the apartment,

 “Fuck,” he mutters the edge of his lips barely brushing over yours, he leans back, “stay right here.” He leaves to pick up the phone.

 You take a deep shaky breath as he leave you standing by yourself. You hear him pick up the phone and quietly talk into the receiver end of it. You sit down on the couch replaying what just happened in your head. Your heart beats fast against your skin and you know no doubt that your flustered as can be. You sit to catch your breath and hopefully steady your beating heart.

 Two small knocks on the door. You think to get Tommy but he sounds aggravated you decide to not bother him. You open the door yourself revealing a beautiful blond woman. You blink confused of what she could want, she looks at you equally confused.

 “Hi is tommy here,” her Irish accent is clear as day, “You know what never mind that I just need to get something real quick.”

She pushes pass you and goes immediately to the couch digging her hand through the cushions. She pulls out a ring and sighs in relief.

 “Imagine going home without this.” She says to you.

 “Im sorry I-“  You  finally find the words to speak but she interrupts you.

 “Its okay he probably didn’t tell you. Im grace. I was here a couple hours ago. he’s always been one to move on fast.” She says with a tone of disapproval as she looks up and down at you.

 “Did you meet Chaplin? Hes one of my favorite actors.” Grace continues.

 You feel scrutinized under her gaze. She walks past you with a smile. She knows her words cut you deep even if you don’t show it.

 “Tell Tommy I said bye. Enjoy your time.” And then she’s gone.

 You stand in the same spot by the door. You finally met grace. The one he was with a year ago. The one he named his horse after, the one he kept unopened letters, the one he didn’t like talking about. She was here and she was beautiful. Were you just a second choice for him? And easy get since he couldn’t have what he wanted?

 “(y/n) why are you standing by the door?” you hear tommys voice from behind you.

 “I think I should go home,” Before he can ask why, you answer that question, “Grace came by.”

 “(y/n)..”

 “No this is good before we do something stupid, right?” You say trying to laugh it off, though on the inside your hurting.

 “Lets talk about this..”

 “Mr. Shelby we’re both drunk and not thinking clearly”

 “You haven’t been drinking all night and I’m as sober as I’ve ever been.”

 You shake your head, “Why did you bring me out tonight? Was it cause she said no?”

 “I-I” For the first time Thomas Shelby was at a loss for words.

 You sigh, “Ill see you at Epsom, Mr.Shelby”

 And then you left.

Read pt.13

Tags

@babylooneytoonz @captivatedbycillianmurphy @enamouravecleslivresetlechocolat @evelyn-4034  @ms-dont-care  @owenniasstars @shikin83 @lauren-raines-x 

[46ten]

Alexander Hamilton on marriage, Part 3

I have previously posted an overview of AH's marriage ideals, followed by a focus on the time period 1777-spring 1780. Here, I'll focus on AH's letters in the summer and fall of 1780, during which time he was engaged to Elizabeth Schuyler. My focus here is not so much on the AH-ES relationship itself, but on what can be gleaned about AH's thoughts on marriage from the letters he composes to her.

I'd be remiss if I didn't comment on some biographers' interpretations of AH's marriage: that it was a cynical endeavor designed to improve his social station and ensure financial stability. I think more recent work has called this into question to the point that this interpretation is slowly being abandoned, although work integrating the Hamiltons' marriage, 18th century companionate marriage, the role of marriage in that society, Hamilton's views of honor, and further examination into Hamilton’s personal life still needs to be done. My posts are really drafts, or works-in-progress, in that area, that I hope to further flesh out as I'm able. I also feel the need to state that I don't intend to erase ES's voice on marriage, but as most of the letters we have from her that speak to her marriage are from after AH's death (with a few very notable exceptions I’ll discuss later), they aren't my focus right now.  

In the letters that we have from the time period July-October 1780, AH reveals himself to be deeply concerned with ES and their love, writing at times that he can think of nothing else. He expresses love, longing, eagerness to be reunited with her, and his insecurity. For those who have read all of the AH-ES courtship letters, the quotes below are probably very familiar. But I copy them here because I think they are necessary to try to get at AH's thoughts as he approaches his December 1780 marriage to ES.  

From these letters, what can we glean about the qualities that AH wanted in his marriage?  

First, let's look at the qualities he seems to value in ES.  He praises her for the following (I've tried to keep his original language as much as possible): innocent simplicity and frankness, beauty of person and mind, having unpretending good sense, good nature affability and vivacity, sweetness and charms, and the sweet softness and delicacy of your mind and manners. She is gentle and tender. He likes that she is sensible, and appreciates her candor. In a letter to MS, he praises her as unmercifully handsome and lacking in pretty affectations, vanity, and ostentation. To Laurens, he praises ES again for practical matters, and he notes his sexual interest in her.  

These descriptions put emphasis on ES's value to him as a life partner - she's honest, sensible, good natured, and loving. She doesn't value vanity - which may be of concern given his financial situation. There is plenty in the letters that also expresses his sexual attraction and tenderness for her (and the delight he feels in her tenderness for him), but it's interesting that AH, in describing her, praises her especially for her practical qualities, or rather virtues. He may also be signaling that his interest in her is not driven solely by lust or infatuation, but by a mature and thoughtful evaluation of the kind of partner she will be for him.  AH admits to "having moments when I feel a disposition to make a more perfect discovery of your temper, and character" 3Sept1780 and sends her questions designed to uncover these qualities. Considering that they are engaged about two months after her arrival in Morristown, he may have seen this as a way of also indicating to her his own suitability as a partner: he's a practical and mature man who has thought carefully about their prospective union to arrive at the conclusion that, "I think we know each other well enough to understand each other’s feelings, and to be sure our affection will not only last but be progressive" 13Oct1780.

I'm going to break this down into somewhat clumsy and debatable categories that are often used in the ideals of marriage in that time period.

Social/religious function of marriage

I have ever since you gave me leave to do it, considered loved and cherished you as my own; but the prospect of your being so by those sacred ties which society has established and heaven approves has something delightful in it....How often have I have with Eloisa exclaimed against those forms which I now revere as calculated to knit our union together by new and stronger bands....A sincere passion takes pleasure in multiplying the ties by which it is held to its object. .. With transport will my heart answer to the question, will you take this woman to be thy wedded wife? 27Oct1780  

This is a the strongest statement we have, in this period, about AH's belief in marriage, in its social and religious function. He speaks of it as "sacred ties" for society (this line of thinking will be confirmed in a future post with an AH quote), that he now "reveres" marriage, and he notes that it will further and more strongly tie them together, which he views with "pleasure." He ends with an emotional statement of his feelings when he takes his wedding vows.

Life-long attachment

I alleviate the pain of absence by looking forward to that delightful period which gives us to each other forever; and my imagination serves up such a feast of pleasure as almost makes me forget the deprivation I now experience. 6July1780

The lovely partner of my life. 6July1780

[L]et our hearts melt in a prayer to be soon united, never more to be separated. Aug1780

In the quotes above, AH indicates that he expects their union to be life-long. Although the standard of the age, this probably wasn't a simple notion for him - his mother had two unsuccessful romantic partnerships. Nor was divorce an impossibility for ES, given her own station, although she would have likely not had custody of their children.

Shared goals

I know too you have so much of the Portia in you, that you will not be out done in this line by any of your sex, and that if you saw me inclined to quit the service of your country, you would dissuade me from it. I have promised you, you recollect, to conform to your wishes, and I persist in this intention. Aug1780

An indifference to property enters into my character too much, and what affects me now as my Betsey is concerned in it, I should have laughed at or not thought of at all a year ago. But I have thoroughly examined my own heart. Beloved by you, I can be happy in any situation, and can struggle with every embarrassment of fortune with patience and firmness. I cannot however forbear entreating you to realize our union on the dark side and satisfy, without deceiving yourself, how far your affection for me can make you happy in a privation of those elegancies to which you have been accustomed. If fortune should smile upon us, it will do us no harm to have been prepared for adversity; if she frowns upon us, by being prepared, we shall encounter it without the chagrin of disappointment.  Aug1780

For after all the proofs I have of your tenderness and readiness to share every kind of fortune with me it is a presumptuous diffidence of your heart to propose the examination I did. 3Sept1780

[B]ut I want to know, whether you would prefer my receiving the nuptial benediction in my uniform or in a different habit. It will be just as you please; so consult your whim and what you think most consistent with propriety. If you mean to follow our plan of being secretly married, the scruple ought to appear entirely your own, and you should begin to give hints of it. …5Oct1780

These quotes on quite different matters indicates that AH sees their relationship as a partnership in which they both have opinions, and ES is expected to offer input into matters that affect them both.

Affection

So far My Dear Betsey as the tenderest affection can compensate for other inconveniences in making your estimate, you cannot give too large a credit for this article. My heart overflows with every thing for you, that admiration, esteem and love can inspire. I would this moment give the world to be near you only to kiss your sweet hand. Believe what I say to be truth and imagine what are my feelings when I say it. Aug 1790

I have no time to indulge my heart by dwelling on those assurances which it delights to be ever giving you of its admiration, of its esteem of its love. My life shall be a continued proof of the unbounded affection of your [remainder missing] 31July1780

Self-love will never per⟨mit⟩ me to be unkind to you; for are not y⟨ou the dearest⟩ part of myself? 31Aug1780

I entreat you my lovely girl to believe that my tenderness for you every day increases and that no time or circumstances can abate it. 25Sept1780

You cannot conceive my avidity for everything that would endear me more to you... 2Oct1780

[I write you so often] to indulge myself and to comply with that restless propensity of mind, which will not allow me to be happy when I am not doing something in which you are concerned.  This may seem a very idle disposition in a philosopher and a soldier...and goes on to use Achilles as an example of devotion to a woman, for he had liked to have sacrificed Greece and his glory to his passion for a female captive. 15Oct1780

I feel it is essential to my happiness that the period should arrive when all my moments will be softened, enlivened, and blessed by your company.  I almost pine after peace.  Then, if ever I suffer you to be out of my sight, it will be an unwilling sacrifice to decorum. 27Oct1780

Prepare my charming bride to crown your lover with every thing that is tender, kind, passionate and endearing in your sex. He will bring you a heart fraught with all a fond woman can wish. 27Oct1780

Here, AH expounds on the importance of affection in their relationship. Indeed, based on his numerous statements about it, it seems of utmost importance to him that their relationship be loving, tender, and marked by deep affection.

Obedience

I know you will be ready to justify her conduct and to tell me the ill treatment she received was enough to make any girl of spirit act in the same manner. But I will one day cure you of these refractory notions about the right of resistance, (of which I foresee you will be apt to make a very dangerous application), and teach you the great advantage and absolute necessity of implicit obedience. Aug1780

When I come to Albany, I shall find means to take satisfaction for your neglect. You recollect the mode I threatened to punish you in for all your delinquen[c]ies. 8Aug1780

[Y]et [husbands] still retain the power of happiness and misery; and if you are prudent you will not trust the felicity of your future life to one in whom you have not good reason for implicit confidence. 13Oct1780

It's difficult to tell, without knowing the mode of punishment, if AH is joking in the middle quote. All of the quotes note that husbands have the "power" to decide what is judicious. But it's also notable that he's warning her of this before their marriage, and in last quote, asking her to again evaluate his suitability.

Mutual satisfaction

Tis not the vanity of excelling others, but the desire of pleasing my Betsey that dictates these wishes. In her eyes I should wish to be the first the most amiable the most accomplished of my sex; but I will make up all I want in love. 2Oct1780

For your own part, your business now is to study “the way to keep him”—which is said to be much the most difficult task of the two; though in your case I verily believe it will be an easy one, and that to succeed effectually you will only have to wish it sincerely. May I only be as successful in pleasing you, and may you be as happy as I shall ever wish to make you. 5Oct1780

Take more care of my happiness, for there is nothing your Hamilton would not do to promote yours. 13Oct1780

As with shared goals, AH places emphasis on the importance of ES's personal happiness to him, and indicates that their happiness is to be mutual.  

Honor

Could I forgive Arnold for sacrificing his honor reputation and duty I could not forgive him for acting a part that must have forfeited the esteem of so fine a woman....Indeed  my angelic Betsey, I would not for the world do any thing that would hazard your esteem.  'Tis to me a jewel of inestimable price & I think you may rely I shall never make you blush.  25Sept1780

The forfeiture of ES's esteem will again make an appearance in AH's very last letter to her. This quote seems to speak to the importance that ES see him as a gentleman.

Erotic attachment

A spirit entering into bliss, heaven opening upon all its faculties, cannot long more ardently for the enjoyment, than I do my darling Betsey, to taste the heaven that awaits me in your bosom. Is my language too strong? It is a feeble picture of my feelings—no words can tell you how much I love and how much I long—you will only know it when wrapt in each others arms we give and take those delicious caresses which love inspires and marriage sanctifies. 5Oct1780  

AH is not only sexual attracted to her, but he believes in, and looks forward to, the blessings of marriage sanctifying their sexual activity.

Before finishing here, I’ll note that AH also began developing relationships with other members of the Schuyler family in 1780 to whom he'd also enjoy a life-long closeness. CS is in Morristown for the spring on 1780; AH and MS meet and seem to develop a fond and joking correspondence, and PS was frequently with AH during the campaign in the summer and fall and became a correspondent on more than military matters. As he writes ES, "Mention me affectionately to your Mother and to Peggy. Tell all the family I love them" [27Oct1780]. As he refers to his own father as "our father" and CS as "mama", AH demonstrates that their marriage also includes considering each other's families as their own.  

I will do a separate post on the 16Sept1780 letter to Laurens, as it seems to get a lot of attention. I will also move on to discuss AH's thoughts on marriage from the 1781-1804 period using specific quotes, and the Reynolds pamphlet.

[starboyjxmin]

First Love (Yoongi x Reader) Pt. 2

Synopsis: Hoseok has a daughter but things take for worse turn as soon as he discovers at what cost.

(A.N. This was suppose to be a Hoseok fanfic but I took a bold, maybe not so much, action that turned it into a Yoongi fic. Also, this is my first fanfic on Tumblr! Bare with me please, much love! X.)

First Love

Years later.

Yoongi had adopted Hoseok’s daughter, adding her a middle name since many of his friends from work had middle names. She was Rose Olivia Min. A name the boys would joke about to him as Rose grew up. 

The only way they had to confirm that Hoseok was well and alive were the signed adoption papers stating he was giving Yoongi permission to adopted Rose the following day of her birth.  A few weeks later, she was a Min. 

“Do you really want to adopt her?” Taehyung asked Yoongi the day the papers were handed to his hyung. 

“Why?” 

Tae was secretly hoping that Yoongi would have cringe in some form as he read the documents. Tae was hoping he could adopt Rose. But that didn’t happen.

Another way they were confirmed about Hoseok’s existence were the monthly checks of $4,000 that were sent with Yoongi’s name as the receiver of the checks that were for Rose’s college fund as well as anything she needed and the weekly letters addressed to her. 

Yoongi had become a father. He was proud to say it. Taehyung was later added into the legal guardianship of Rose a year later as the “second parent” which had caused Namjoon to previously learn about laws if Yoongi and Taehyung had to be married for the second parental custody of Rose. This of course, caused Yoongi to roll his eyes the whole time they were at the judge’s office. 

“Do you Min Yoongi take Kim Taehyung,” The white judge had slightly mispronounced Tae’s name which made Jin snicker which had Namjoon slightly push his friend with his shoulder. “To be your lawfully wedded husband?” Yoongi gave a curt nod.

“I take you to be my lawfully wedded husband.” He sounded strained when saying husband. 

“Do you Kim Taehyung,” Now it was Jimin who snicked followed by Jungkook shushing him. “Take-”

“I actually made vows.” This caught everyone off guard except the Judge. “Is it okay to read them?”

“I don’t see why not.” Taehyung took out a folded napkin from the hospital caferteria Jin had handed him to wipe his wet face when Hoseok had left his daughter in Yoongi’s arms. 

“I stand here in front of all of our friends, your family, my family, our family to vow more than love and security to you, Min Yoongi. I vow to take even turns when Rose cries at night, to clean after her when she takes your last slice of cheesecake, and to be there for you in everything. I vow to stand by your side, to aide you at your worst, and when the music stops. I am a simple man but as I stand here and vow to hold your hand through parenthood and our adulthood, please understand that I will always love you, hyung. I, Kim Taehyung take you, Min Yoongi, to be my lawfully husband.” 

“I don’t see why we have still have to baby proof the house when Rose is already 7.” Tae was firmly pulling onto the bottom cupboard from under the sink, trying to retrieve dish soap. Yoongi was sitting at the counter island they had in the middle of the kitchen which had caused him to cry when trying to do it himself instead of hiring someone else to do it.

“I’m worried she could accidentally swallow anything poisonous or hurt herself.” He was busily clicking away on his laptop composing music. 

Tae scoffed.

“You have to realize she’s growing up.”

“I am, that’s why I’m cautious.”

“Daddy,” Their sassy seven year old stood from the doorway with her hand on her hips.

“Yes?” Both men turned to the direction of Rose.

“I think Oppa Juju is being annoying.” Tae instantly turned back to the dish he was washing.

“What did Jungkook do?” Yoongi was now placing his blue Beats on the counter next to his laptop. Rose huffed.

“He said that if I didn’t stop drinking the last sips of coffee you let me drink from your Starbucks, I’ll be as short as you and Oppa Jimin.” Rose didn’t speak Korean, it was something they forgot to teach her as a toddler. Namjoon was conviced it was for the best if she didn’t know their mother language in case she ever came across Hoseok in any way. Well, that reasoning was actually Yoongi’s idea. Hoseok was long dead to him. Rose was his daughter, not Hoseok’s. It didn’t matter that she was created thanks to his ex best friend or that his blood ran through her veins because the truth was that Yoongi was the one who raised that beautiful girl. 

Rose was simply her father’s daughter with his same feline eyes but bigger, giving her doll kitten like eyes, she held his bluntness and his button nose. However, sometimes Tae would look at Rose as she went about her daily life and was suddenly hit with the notion that she was a mini Hoseok. As much as Yoongi would deny her resemblance to the distant man, they both could see their past friend’s smile and his glowing demeanor in the little girl. Rose was quite the dancer, something Jimin would jokingly say she got from him but all 6 men knew the truth. But what was more of a concrete fact was Rose’s green eyes. Her mother’s eyes, staring into Tae’s soul. 

“JEONGGUK!” Tae shook his head, looking back at the sink. He chose to ignore how Yoongi began to yell at Jungkook who had ran down the stairs laughing as he tried to clear up the “misunderstanding”. 

Taehyung sighed, wiping his wet hands on the back of his jeans, and walked to the living room where Jimin was lazily sitting on the couch like some sort of dog with The Muppets playing on the TV.

“How long?” Jimin shut his eyes as his hand ran through his now black hair.

“This is the 13th run. She won’t put anything else.” Tae chuckled, patting Jimin’s thigh as he sat down next to his friend of many years. 

Laughter was heard from the kitchen.

“Yoongi is going at it still?” 

“Your husband is too much when it comes to Rose.” Tae playfully smacked Jimin.

“He’s not my husband. But yeah, I know. By the way,” He paused the movie before turning his upper body completely to Jimin’s direction to speak to him correctly. “Will you be free tomorrow?”

“What for?” 

“Rose has teacher parent conferences and I don’t think I will be able to make it. Yoongi said he would go but I wanted to go along with him so Rose sees we are both invested in her education however I have a meeting tomorrow that might run a little late.” Jimin gave his friend a surprised look.

“I thought you were the CEO.” 

“No, that’s Yoongi. But he works here at home for Rose.” Jimin laughed at his friend for the correction. Taehyung was actually a model for Ralph Lauren. He starred in the cologne commercials and on the side, owned a music label along with Yoongi. 

“So... Don’t you have your own hours?”

“Yeah,” Tae rolled his eyes at the absurd comment. “But I’m the face of the company, I strike to worker harder than my employees.” 

“Hey nerd,” Yoongi had walked into the living room with Rose sitting on his shoulders. “I need you to go to Rose’s parent conference tomorrow with Tae. I have to send Tiller the demo of what I produced for his new album so he can show me what he has written so far.” 

“I think I’m going alone since Taehyung just asked me for the same favor.” 

“You did? Is the Miley thing tomorrow?” Tae nodded at his husband who was now groaning, which made Rose tug on his hair.

“Daddy, why don’t I have a mommy?” There was a brief silence in the room. V looked down at his shoes, suddenly the green strip on the side was the most interesting thing he had ever seen. Jimin cleared his throat after seeing his friends looking down awkwardly.

“Rosie, what makes you say that?”

“My friends talk about their moms. Angela asked me about my mom but I told her I didn’t have one, just dads. She said mommies are fun but then asked me if she could have two dads too because it sounded cool.” Her small hands were piled on top of Yoongi’s head neatly as she spoke to Jimin.

“So you want to know if you could have a mom.” He stated this instead of asking by which was followed by a nod from her. “Jungkook’s girlfriend can be your mom for a day so you could see how you like it.” Tae looked at Jimin sharply. 

The little girl shook her head.

“No, I want daddy to meet my teacher Ms. (Y/L/N). I want her to be my mom.” Yoongi closed his eyes, wishing he could disappear or that the ground under his feet would split open and swallow him whole.

“Tae?” Jimin pointed to V who was still glaring at him.

“No, Yuyu.” Rose hugged her father’s head with her small arms. 

“Why not Tae?”

“Don’t ask-” Rose interrupted her dad.

“Because I’m going to marry him when I’m older. Daddy is my prince.” Taehyung felt his heart squeeze itself and this haze of happiness wash through his body. He was always sure that Rose favoured Yoongi a lot more than him and saw him more as her father than she did with Tae. It was to be expected, he thought, since Yoongi was the one who was always home with her. But after what she said, he was sure Rose loved him as much as she did love Yoongi. Parenthood was beautiful, he would never trade it for anything else.

“But you’re my queen, Rose.” The child giggled and flashed her dad a huge smile that instantly brought Hoseok though his mind. 

“Jimin,” Jungkook popped his head into the living room, his body hidden behind the wall of the dining room. “I have to go home to study for my exam tomorrow.”

“That’s my ride home. I’ll go to her conference, okay? Love you Rose.” Jimin stood up, walked to Yoongi and held Rose’s hand while her other was tugging Yoongi’s hair playfully. “Bye hyung.” He shook Yoongi’s hand then waved to Tae before leaving with a talkative Jungkook. 

“So uncle Jiji is going to my conference?” V nodded at his daughter then flashes her his boxy smile. “Okay. Why did you pause my movie?” Her father groaned as he wrapped his fingers around Tae’s outstretched hands. 

“We have watched this movie too many times.” Yoongi pulled on his husband’s hands.

“Let her be,” He replied to his partner whose boxy smile has disappeared when complaining about the movie. 

“Fine, I’m going to work on Miley’s stuff. You watch this boring movie with her.” Taehyung tugged Yoongi’s slender, long fingers before letting go. “I love you both.” And with that, he retrieved to the kitchen.

“Are you happy daddy?” Yoongi was starting to pull his daughter off his shoulders gently.

“Very.” He was. Sometimes.

“Is work hard?” The little girl quickly jumped out of her father’s arms as soon as she was off his shoulder’s, bouncing onto the couch.

“No, not really. Is school difficult?” He sat down next to the excited child who was now wiggling in her seat. 

“No, not really.” Rose smiled at Yoongi, an instant flash of Hoseok’s face danced through his mind. 

“Tell you what, I’ll tell Tiller that I will have to see him next week so I can go to your conference tomorrow with Jimin. Does that sound good, Rosy?” She smiled even bigger and clapsed her hands tightly in joy.

“YES!” He would do anything to see her smile.

“Ms. (Y/L/N), my dad is very pretty.” You had a very interesting class filled with second graders who were busy at the moment with times table sheets you had assigned them to finish. But Rose, the little girl who always waltzed around the classroom, was constantly bugging you about her father. She was smart, no doubt about it. However, as a recently divorced adult, you weren’t exactly interested much in the seven year old match maker.

“I’m sure,” Your absent minded response to the child seemed to have engaged her to further the description of her father’s physical attributes.

“He has kitten eyes, black hair, long eyelases, he’s pretty, also tall but Juju calls him short.”

“I think Juju might be right.” Your red pen grazed the white paper, leaving clots at certain angles of your writing.

You had meet Juju twice, and twice he was a sweetheart. His real name was Jungkook and a med student, soon to be neurosurgeon but you had watched enough Grey’s anatomy to know that it was too soon for Juju to decide just yet.

“Ms. (Y/L/N), can we finish later?” A student asked. You quickly looked at the clock behind you who had their arms a few minutes away from school ending.

“Sure. Pack up everyone!” There was no need to say it since most of them now had an empty desk with their backpacks laying over the grey tops. “Those of you who have parent conferences with me, stay.” The bell rang shortly afterwards. Rose was still standing there by your desk. “You have conferences with me?” The little girl nodded.

“My daddy is coming, he’s never late. Jimin is coming too.” 

“Jimin?” 

“He’s my uncle.” You stood up from your traditional, boring teacher desk to look for Rose’s files. 

“Tio Jimin? You don’t call him Jiji?” Her file was actually thick which meant a good thing.

“Yes but his name is not hard to say.” You placed the heavy file on your desk, looking at the pale yellow colour of the bolder with curiosity. Would her father actually be cute or did she just see him with eyes of love. Of course she saw him with eyes of love, it was her dad.

“My name is fairly easy.” A sweet, almost teen like voice brought you to give him your attention rather than the file.

Jimin, you assumed, was a beautiful man. He resembled Prince Eric in a way with his black onyx like hair. He has a beautiful smile, his eyes merely slits on top of cute, chubby cheeks. 

“JIJI! YOU CAME!” Jimin held his arms out as the little girl raced and thumped against him.

“Of course I did, your dad is still in the car,” You noticed the man’s hard, muscular arms as he picked up his niece. His hands were small but veins adorned each finger, his rings emphasizing the smooth, vein ridged skin. “He’ll be here soon.” Jimin looked up at you, his dark eyes creating the cartilage in your knees to become jelly like. 

“Hi, I’m Rose’s teacher, Miss-”

“(Y/L/N).” He practically breathed your last name, a new sensation echoed through his wet mouth at how your last name caused his tongue to arch as he said it. 

“Y-yes.” You had your arms crossed over your chest, clearly fluster by the man in front of you. This didn’t go unnoticed by Jimin, he rather much enjoyed the sight of the pink in your cute, chubby cheeks and how your arms seemed to tighten around each other pressed against your chest, trying to mask your uneven, shallow breathes. If anything. they seemed more emphasized with every second he held your eyes with his.

“Hi Rosie, I’m sorry I was a bit late.” You couldn’t believe who was the owner of the new, rich deep voice. Taehyung Kim stood next to Jimin, taller than you had thought from the commericals. He was busy poking Rose with his long finger. What was this? How did she have such attractive relatives? This seemed straight out of a novela, making you shake your head. 

“This is Ms. (Y/L/N).” The attention was soon shifted to you. Taehyung took in the sight of you, a fine aged wine that was only brought out for the best of occasions is how he looked at you. Little did you know that he was actually evaluating you.

“Hello, I’m Taehyung.” He walked right before getting into your personal space and outstretched his huge hand, intimidating you far more. 

“Hi,” You held his hand, feeling his fingers wrap against your small shaking hand and gave it three short, polite shakes but he didn’t let go afterwards. Tae held your hand, his other hand was now clasping your nervous hand. Both of his engulfing hands were holding onto your single hand. 

“Rose loves you, she always talks about you and how you take care so well of your class.” He was praising you, making your hand sweat a bit. “You have become my favourite person because of it.” Taehyung was still holding your hand. 

“Thank you, now if we could have a seat by my desk so we can go over her performance here at school.” This was a signal for him to let go of your hand, which he did not do. 

“I’m a great student! Right, (Y/N)?” You walked to your desk, with Taehyung trailing behind you holding your hand. Jimin followed closely, hoping none of this wouldn’t turn into a disaster.

“Don’t call her by her name, she’s your teacher. Have we not taught you about respecting your elders and formalities?” Tae had let go of your hand, taking a seat in front of your desk as he spoke to his daughter that was now kissing Jimin in delight. 

“No, it’s okay. She’s a great kid, always caring and looking out for everyone, I see she’s much more loving with you guys.” Jimin was laughing as Rose started to pop her lips. 

“Yeah, she’s handful sometimes with us, especially with Yoongi.” 

“Yoongi?” Jimin was now seated next to Tae, and in front of (Y/N) who was pulling files out of her cabinets. Rose spoke of Yoongi to you a lot, her father. But she just called Taehyung daddy. 

“Yeah, his husband.” A smack between the two males didn’t go unmissed by you as you placed Rose’s file. You looked at the name tag on the file. Rose Olivia Min. Not Kim. 

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t aware-” This was awkward. You weren’t homophobic in any way. You were pansexual yourself but you were embarssed that it never crossed your mind that Rose was the offspring of a gay, also married, couple. It was so obvious from the second that she called Tae her father when not a few minutes before Jimin had gotten there, she was talking about her father Yoongi as well to you. But, she was trying to, wait. This didn’t make the slightest sense.

“It’s okay can we start? My husband will be getting home soon. He doesn’t like it when Rose isn’t home before him, he’s pretty attached to her.” 

“Sure.” You opened the file, turning it to their direction.

“I’ll take that into consideration, also nice lyrics, man.” Yoongi smiled at Bryson who laughed. 

“Bro, you make amazing beats. I’m telling you, this company is going to get bigger than it already is.” Bryson shook the other male’s hand. With that, they both said their good byes. Yoongi was already in the elevator, looking down at his Rolex. 

“Three fifty-seven.” He had finished 2-3 minutes earlier than what he had written down for his agenda, meaning he has 2-3 minutes more to get home before his family. The soft swish of the elevator doors went unnoticed by him. Tae had sent him a text about you, saying you were kind but too timid. Rose was the top student of the class, although talkative and dancing around when she should be seated. Jimin had also texted him saying that if Yoongi didn’t want the young teacher, he would kindly like to have her as Rose’s aunt instead of mother. Yoongi growled at his friend’s silly text. The girl wasn’t anything near to his interest. Music was his wife, Rose never seemed to understand that he was married to music and Taehyung, he didn’t need nor what anything else. 

The elevator dinged, bringing him out of his thoughts. 

“Thank you.” He said to the elevator as he stepped off into the underground parking lot.

“You’re welcome Kim Yoongi.” The electronic voice said back before closing the doors of the elevator. 

When Namjoon had given the boys the elevator as a gift for their new company, he had recorded Yoongi as a Kim as a gag for the newly weds. He had even bought them a two week honeymoon at Cancun, everything paid even their restaurant “dates”, It was common knowledge between the boys that Yoongi was pansexual, just not attracted to his partner in that way. Jin had offered to take care of the one year old, something both men refused. They bought Rose to the honeymoon, she slept between them and accompanied them everywhere, especially when they were out eating. Yoongi at first was annoyed by the robot calling him Kim Yoongi but after 6 years, he was use to it, even smiled at times. 

The feline eyed man got into his Jaguar, checking his mirrors were correct, and then put his seat belt on. 

The whole ride home he found himself thinking of Hoseok. Hoseok had broken his heart, many times actually. Yes, he did feel something for his younger friend but what had really crushed his heart was how Hoseok was willing to leave his own daughter. Of course she was left with the best people but the fact that the man that once made him so happy did not even hesitate to abandon his newborn that day at the hospital and signed the adoption papers to give away his offspring. It hurt more than Yoongi could ever explain to Taehyung when they were alone, legs entangled like vines in bed at 2 A.M. It was.. more than a hole in his soul. He felt for his daughter, fuck Hoseok he thought. Taehyung was also involved with Hoseok for a brief bit back when they were still together as a band, but it was Yoongi that loved Hoseok more than music. How was it that Taehyung was willing to overlook that Yoongi had feelings for his previous partner, was a mystery. Taehyung was straight as was Hoseok but they were always off with each other, being too public sometimes of their adventures. Bi-curious was what Namjoon had labeled the boys as. They were playful, but not too careful. Yoongi was never one for labels but for his own heart break as a young man, agreed to Namjoon’s explanation. 

Before his mind could slip into how Hoseok had met Rose’s mother, he realized he had already pulled into the driveway of his home. He muttered to himself how was it even possible that he had a driver’s license when he usually zoned out while driving, it was dangerous. He noticed Jimin’s car was parked to his own car in the driveway signaling that they were home already. 

Yoongi got out of the Jaguar, locking it behind him as he slightly jogged to the red door of his home. His slender, piano finger prodded the button between the window and red door as he heard the lullaby he had composed Rose the day she was born, ply thought the house, muffled behind the wood of the front door. He heard Tae laughing, sending his heart into a frenzy. The distant memories of the two in the practice dance room back in Korea flashed behind his eyes, making him wish things were different. 

“Yoongi Hyung!” It was Jimin who had opened the door. 

“Hey Jimin,” Yoongi stepped into the house, shrugging off his coat and hanging it on the wall next to where the key holder was. His friend smiled, closing the door behind them. 

Tae’s laughter could be heard bouncing on the walls. 

Yongi smiled.

“It went that good?” He said as he looked back at Jimin who had his hand on the back of neck, nervously rubbing it. 

“Hyung-”

“Where’s my kid?” He was unbothered by the weird look on Jimin’s face as he heard Tae roaring in laughter now. He followed the direction of where the laughter was originating from. 

“Hyung, she’s asleep.” Jimin followed right behind Yoongi who was walking through the kitchen now. 

“Then why is Tae laughing? Is he watching a movie?” Both men stopped as soon as they stepped onto the carpet of the living room. 

You were sitting with your back facing the two men who you were oblivious about, with Tae sited right next to you who had roars of laughter shaking though his whole body. 

You enjoyed his extremely, manly voice. It was enough to lull you into a blissful sleep. But his laugh, was enough to make you forget the awful divorce you had just undergone not so long ago. 

“But why are you laughing at my misery?” You whined at the older male who was cover his face now with his large hands.

“BECAUSE I CAN’T BELIEVE HE CHEATED ON YOU WITH A CAM GIRL!” Taehyung barked, his body furiously shaking with the roll of every laugh he let out. 

You felt your cheeks burn, causing you to hunch over on your thighs in embarrassment. Tae was a great man, you were really enjoying his presence.

“I think that’s enough torture for the poor girl, Tae.” A voice growled from behind you. This voice had cut off the booming laughs of the Ralph Lauren model. It was almost eerie. 

“Welcome home, Yoongi.” Taehyung said. Yoongi. The owner of the voice was Yoongi, the father of the girl you taught. How inappropriate of you to do this. He sounded angry too, he did growl at his husband. 

“Hyung, this is (Y/N).” Jimin had an asmrist’s voice which almost immediately caused you to not feel as scared as you were when Yoongi had spoken. Still embaressed, you straighten up, and turned to Yoongi. 

You stared right into his soul as he did as well. Both of you realized you were both looking into forever.

Part 3

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Her Latest Flame Chapter 16: Seven Days

Previous Chapters

Day One

Farrah does her best not to wake you, but you still hear her poke her head in sometime around seven. You can feel her eyes on you, burning a worrying, ‘I don’t know how to fix this because I don’t even know what this is’ motherly hole into your back and you resist, just barely, the urge to tug your blanket up over your head or toss a throw pillow in her general direction.

And yes, you know that's not why they’re called throw pillows. Lauren taught you something, after all.

(Clearly, she taught you nothing about dealing with your problems or facing them like an actual adult and yes, you’re still in the early stages of this, so you are going to blame everyone else.)

Your mother shuts the door quietly behind her and you roll over onto your back and, yup, that was a mistake (can’t blame Lauren for this one) (not that you won’t try to find a way) cause all it does is give you a good view of your ceiling, one you haven’t had since the last time Sabrina was here - and just fuck your brain, cause thinking about your ex, your other ex, doing that to you is exactly the way to start with the healing - and all that view is is just a good view of those stars.

Not the real ones. Farrah hasn’t gone totally nuts and installed a skylight or something, though she has started remodeling some spots - like adding a breakfast bar, which unfortunately is not a real bar - and you won’t be surprised when she gets to your room eventually and oh, you are just so fucking stalling right now.

Totally Farrah’s fault. She’s the one who gave the kitchen a makeover.

So…back to the view of the not the real stars. No, they’re the fake kind and not just the regular fake kind, but the glow in the dark and in your heart kind cause you and Karma hung the damn things and see? This is the problem, the problem with living in your head.

Karma hung the stars. You loved Karma. You always knew you loved Karma but then you went and kissed Karma and realized that you loved Karma. But Karma didn’t love you like that, she loved someone else, so what did you do?

You pined endlessly and got jealous and mopey and pulled some ridiculous scavenger hunt shit that you claimed wasn’t a desperate attempt at showing her how right you were for each other but even the Queen of the Oblivious saw through that bullshit and yes, you know that isn’t the fucking point cause that isn’t what you did (well, it is, but it isn’t the thing you did that you’re thinking of now, the one that’s the issue now, the one you’re trying so hard to avoid saying right fucking now.)

What you did was you went and found yourself someone else to love.

And there it is. There she is, as if she ever left except, oh, wait, she did. But she came back, sort of, and then you left and you’ve just kept right on leaving over and over and over again in every way one person can.

So, yes, you managed - in about the span of two minutes, that would have been a good ninety seconds shorter if you hadn’t gone off on that perfectly good stalling tangent, not unlike the one you’re on right now - to take the stars on your ceiling that you saw every day for years without even once connecting them to Reagan and connected them to Reagan.

And so, day one ends before it even begins, as you roll back onto your side, tug that blanket up over your head, and hope that sleep finds you quicker this morning than it did last night.

Spoiler Alert: It doesn’t.

Day Two

Netflix and chill is much more fun when there’s some actual ‘chill’ involved and not when it’s you, on one end of the couch, and your mother on the other end, and then - in the end - you alone on the whole thing cause she has a date and doesn’t come back in until sometime past three and no, she doesn’t notice that you're still on the couch.

And no, you don’t notice that she’s walking a bit… side to side, shall we say?

(Oh, God, how you wish you didn’t notice.)

Day Three

You have a new appreciation for all the mornings Farrah said nothing to you about the night before. You used to think she didn’t know, that all the nights you stayed up too late (Karma) or out too late (Reagan) or had someone else stay in too late (Sabrina), that your mother was just blissfully ignorant.

And now… oh, how you understand ignorance and bliss and - even more - the idea of things you just can't unsee.

Like, for instance, your mother staggering down the stairs at half past eleven, smiling to herself, her hand wandering idly over the spot on her neck, the one that would be just a hair below the neckline of all but the most revealing of her tops and yes, that is what you’re going to refer to it as from now until the end of time (which you would appreciate hurrying the fuck up): 'the spot’.

The word 'hickey’ will never pass your lips. Or brain. Never. Never ever.

Farrah spots you, sitting at the kitchen table, eating your fourth bowl of whatever the fuck those bran / fiber / wheat / oats / bullshit flakes she had in the cupboard are (and your sixth doughnut out of the dozen you went to get, and if she hadn’t come in when she did, you so would have gone back for seven) and her hand just sort of… stops. It’s as if someone hit the pause button on the Mom Remote (much like the spoonful of oaty not-goodness in your hand slows to a dead crawl) and you have the urge to point out that pausing only makes it stand out more.

But, since you know (cause you looked in the mirror) that it’s hard to tell the bags under your eye from the bruise around it, you also know you’ve got no room to talk.

Farrah settles herself in the chair next to you - surprisingly close, but also a considerably shorter walk for her and she still seems to be having some trouble with that, which prompts a somewhat appreciative ’damn’ to pop into your brain, unbidden - and you slide your cup of coffee (it’s your third) (in the last twenty) toward her and she damn near inhales it in a way that almost makes you (briefly) concerned for the well being of parts of her date from last night, which only serves to remind you that your mother had a date (that went well, apparently) while you spent the night watching Jessica Jones and counting the number of camera angles that focused almost directly on her ass.

Counting. Not complaining.

She’s staring at you in this way that makes you nervous, that reminds you of all the times she wanted to say something (usually about… 'lesbians’) (always with the pause) (and the dramatic whisper) but couldn’t figure out the right way - or even just a sorta right way - to bring it up. You could let it go, and maybe you should, but you’ve said all of twenty-three words to each other since you’ve been home (you’ve counted) and the silence is starting to bug even you.

“Sophie,” you say, answering the question you know she wants to ask. “She punched me cause she found out I lied to her about something.”

Right. Something. Not someone. Nope.

“Must have been a pretty serious something,” Farrah says, standing and gingerly making her way to the coffee pot for a refill. “Did you steal something from her? Cheat off her on a test?”

Steal. Cheat. Oh, for fuck’s sake…

“I fucked her girlfriend.”

OK, so you could’ve done that a little… better. But, really, you had to watch your own mother do the walk of shame (with no shame and a twinkle in her eye and a soft, contented sigh with every step) last night. Making her choke on her second cup of California Roast is the least you can do.

“To be fair,” you say - which is the first and last time you’re going to use that word for this, “she was my girlfriend, first.”

Farrah leans against the counter and stares at you. You can see the wheels spinning in her head and imagine - just for the hell of it - that the word 'thruple’ is running around in her mind, like a little pornographic hamster on a wheel.

It’s the first real smile you’ve smiled in days.

“She was… is…” You realize, for the first time, that you can’t put a tense on whatever Sophie and Reagan’s relationship is and that just makes things like a million times worse. “Reagan,” you say. “The girlfriend. It was Reagan.”

Your mother nods, as if that just makes all the sense in the world and, really, it does. If, you know, you’re living in a bad teen drama or one of those fanfics people write on the Internet and no, you haven’t spent most of the morning reading the Harry Potter ones and definitely not the ones where Hermione and Ginny end up together (cause redhead and just… no) and probably not the few where Ms. Granger and Luna cast a 'spell’ on each other.

And you just actually thought 'cast a spell’. Thought it and didn’t wince from it and wondered, however briefly, if there was some spell, some magic words that might bring your fondest wishes to life.

Expecto Reaganum!

Yeah… no.

More coffee. You need more coffee. Or more sleep. Or more doughnuts.

Or, you know, to stop imagining Emma Watson naked. With you. And Reagan.

Now who’s hamster-thrupling?

Farrah drops back down in her chair and reaches in front of you, snagging a doughnut from the box. She takes an overly generous bite, and has to wipe a smudge of raspberry jelly from her chin with your napkin. “The only man I have ever really loved was your father,” she says and you can only thank your lucky stars that you weren’t taking a bite of those God awful flakes or you’d be the one choking. “The rest were nice and good and Bruce was… he should have been perfect. But he wasn't…”

“Him,” you say, even as you think 'her’.

She wasn't her.

Your mother nods, taking another long sip of her coffee. You don’t think she even knows how her thumb keeps rubbing the spot on her ring finger where her… well… one of her rings… used to be. “I regret that Bruce got hurt,” she says. “And I regret that poor Lauren got hurt even more. But I can’t ever regret being with your father. Even if I knew, all along, he’d always pick the job over me.”

She finishes off her doughnut and drains her coffee and leaves you there, sitting at the table, wondering what life lesson you’re supposed to take from that. And all you can think is that this clearly means the fanfic that is your life needs better writers. Maybe one of the Potter-heads can lend a hand.

Cast a fucking spell, indeed.

Day Four

When Farrah gets home from work, there’s an empty bottle of wine on the kitchen table next to two takeout bags from Chipotle, another barely a third still full box from the doughnut shop, your cell phone, and your laptop. It takes one look at the computer, the browser still open to a Google search for her to understand the wine and the eats.

How to erase drunken texts messages you wish you’d bneber sent

She figures - correctly - that 'bneber’ is supposed to be 'never’ and her heart breaks a little for you, as she also offers up a silent thank you to the man upstairs (or woman) (or half cracked out monkey scripting this shit) that, back in her day (stone tablets, chisels, and torches for lamps day) there were no text messages or voicemail.

Drunk dialing was bad enough.

Farrah checks in the living room and the bathrooms and your room and her own room but you’re nowhere to be found. But you still haven’t gone to campus to get your car, and she had hers all day so, though she knows she should probably worry, drunk walking is better than drunk driving and so there’s no panic, not just yet.

And when you wander in a couple hours later - with no fresh bruises and walking normally (if still slightly drunkenly) - and head straight to bed, she says nothing.

Turnabout being fair play and all that.

Still… she can’t help worrying, and after all those years of being the least involved parent in the history of parents, she feels a sense of… duty? Responsibility? Parental obligation?

Sure. All of those. And a massive side dish of guilty, mixed with dash of guilt, marinated in a sauce of guilt and flavored with just a smidge of regret and, as you’re about to learn, an all that mixed together Farrah is an 'I didn’t know what else to do and please don’t hate me, I was just trying to help you’ Farrah.

And when her first call goes straight to voicemail, she can only think of one other option and see, this is why you really shouldn’t leave your phone laying around.

You would have thought you’d have learned that particular lesson by now.

Day Five

There are days when you wish you stayed in bed.

This is not one of those days.

And that is only because this is a day when you do stay in bed. All day. Like all day. Save for three trips to the bathroom - which is a considerably smaller number than you thought you were going to have to make, given the all new and all star levels of drunk you were last night.

You even left a hair tie on your bedside table. What with Sophie not… around… someone was going to have to hold your hair back. Might as well be Mr. Elastic.

You try, unsuccessfully, not to think of how much that sounds like a guy Shane would kill to date and you can’t help laughing, which means you can’t help spending the next five minutes actively wishing you could either pass out, die, or be swallowed whole by your bed, anything that would stop the ice pick of pain slicing through the back of your left eye.

A quick roll onto your right side does nothing but shift the pain and yes, that clearly makes no actual medical sense, but in the four or five seconds it takes the pick to find your right eye, you feel just enough relief to not really care.

Nor do you really care that you’ve now officially realized that wine plus doughnuts plus chipotle plus more wine (Farrah only saw the second bottle) plus attempts at picking up waitresses with great asses (but really sub par hair) (sorry, Becky) while still drunk (like, epically) (like not sure how you walked) does not equal your proudest moment.

When Becky of the good (great) ass posts a picture of it on Facebook, that moment will sink even further down the list. Probably right behind telling Shane you don’t even like to look at your own vagina, but definitely still ahead of your toast at Farrah and Bruce’s wedding.

Oh, and you know, getting punched in the face in the egg place and yes, that rhymes and no, you’re not a poet who didn’t know it.

You’re a hungover and surprisingly sexually frustrated adolescent, and no, your actual age doesn’t change that one bit.

Not only did you not get laid, and not only did you make an utter boob out of yourself (and, you think, tried to grab Becky’s) but you’re pretty sure you can never go back to Huan Cho’s and, really, that might suck worst of all.

Their noodles are to die for.

But maybe - maybe - that’s for the best. After all, that was yours and Sophie’s place and you’re not sure who gets custody of the noodle joint in the divorce, but (after last night) you’re pretty sure who Haun and Cho (and yes, they’re two different people, you've met them), not to mention Becky, would all choose Sophie.

Hell, you’d choose Sophie.

You roll back to your left - three more seconds of sweet relief - and try not to well up over the loss of the best noodles in Austin and yes, you very much realize that that is so not what the tears would be for, but it’s easier to think about losing the noodles than it is thinking about losing the girl.

Girls.

Fuck all… you should just stay in bed.

And so you do.

Day Six

If there’s one thing you’ve learned over the last (almost) seven days, it’s this:

“I should not be allowed to own a cell phone.”

The pillow muffles most of your words, but Lauren speaks fluent Amy (it’s a skill) and even now, she somehow understands.

Your words. She understands your words. You? That’s an entirely different issue.

“Yeah,” she says, her voice crackling through the laptop’s crappy speakers and vibrating the sheet beneath you. “Because the phone is the problem.”

She has a point. Damn her.

“You didn’t see the texts,” you moan, lifting your head up just enough to make a tiny head tent out of your pillow. “They were… ugh… no words,” you say. “No fucking words.”

Now, see? There you go again. Lying (sort of.) Cause, really? There were words.

I miss you. (There’s three of them.)

It was all my fault, I know that. I soooooooooooooo know that. (Twelve more and no, extra 'ooooo’ doesn’t count double)

I don’t deserve you. (Four. And no, you very much don’t.)

And you don’t deserve me. And I mean that in the you don’t deserve to suffer the horrible horrible horrible fate of having me in your life, not in the way I don’t deserve you.

(Thirty-five.) (And she probably knew what you meant.)

You probably knew what I meant. (Six) (And you’re right. You so should not be allowed to own a phone.)

I’m so sorry. Sorrier than I’ve ever been for anything. Even sorrier than when I slept with Liam, which is probably not a thing to bring up right now, but you know me, open mouth, insert foot and oh, please tell me you’re not thinking of other things I’ve put in my mouth and oh, I’m just making it worse and I am so deleting this before I hit send.

(Seventy.) (And you didn’t.)

I hope someday you can forgive me and I hope someday my feelings won’t be such a problem for us and I just hope you know that you are the best part of my life and I really do love you and I hope that someday

Forty-six. And final. You never finished the thought both because the first bottle of wine had finally taken its toll and you passed out face first into your burrito (which is why you needed the second one) and because, really, you don’t know what you hope for someday.

“Forgiveness,” you mutter into the pillow. “A second chance, maybe. Her, back in my life, even if it isn’t like it was before.” If there’s one other thing you’ve learned in the last (almost) seven days, it’s that you hate the word 'before’. “Is that too much to ask?” you ask, peeking out from under the pillow to stare at Lauren on the screen “It is, isn’t it? It’s too much, I’m asking for too much.”

She seems to consider it for a long moment and you have a very brief (like only the 'br’ and not the 'ief’) moment of hope that, maybe, she’s going to say it’s not too much.

“It probably is too much.”

Fuck, Lauren. Way to kill a dream.

“But,” she says, “I don’t think that’s the real issue here.” You consider - briefly, again - slapping the button on the computer and disconnecting the call before she finishes her thought. “I think the bigger question is why did you send those to her.”

You say nothing. You can’t. There’s no good answer, no right answer, and no answer that won’t get you a half hour lecture from your little (in size only) sister.

“I think that’s what you need to think about, Amy,” she says, interpreting your long silence for confusion and she’s not entirely wrong. “Why did you send those messages to Sophie, and not to, you know, the woman you claim to be in love with?”

If there’s one thing you’ve learned over the last (almost) four years, it’s this:

Lauren’s usually (read: always) right.

Fuck.

Day Seven

Farrah does her best not to wake you, but you still hear her poke her head in sometime around seven.

Yes, you feel a sense of deja vu, of a pattern forming, of a fucking full on Groundhog Day scenario starting up.

You can feel her eyes on you, burning a worrying, 'I don’t know how to fix this because I don’t even know what this is’ motherly hole into your back, again, and this time, you don’t resist the urge and you do tug your blanket up over your head and burrow in. Resistance may be futile, but that doesn’t mean you can't try.

This time she doesn’t shut the door softly. She doesn’t, in fact, shut it at all, but you can hear her closing it over, hear the slight clink of the lock knocking against the plate. She takes a few short steps into you room and settles on the edge of your bed. You spidey-sense some sort of attempted mother-daughter moment coming on and, after the last one, you’re pretty sure all it’s going to do is bring up repressed memories of Farrah and your dad and their days of canoodling (such a great word) (almost as good as 'shenanigans’ though you prefer it for the little bit dirtier connotation) and make you long for a cup of coffee to choke on.

But then she scoots closer and oh, she’s really going for the full court mom press this time, isn’t she? You haven’t experienced mothering like this since… um… well… since you saw her do it for Lauren, or maybe that time she offered to buy you boobs to get you over Karma.

And there was another memory you liked repressed, thank you very much.

She’s leaning over you now and all you can do is hope you’ve gotten better at faking sleep over the years, since it never worked as a child.

Then again, as a child, there were days you actually wanted to be awake for, but we digress…

She’s close now, like frighteningly close, like about to whisper in your ear that no matter what she says, we can’t ever call Nana a racist. Or that no, you shouldn’t mention step number two to potential step number four.

Except…

You don’t remember your mother ever wearing this much perfume and certainly not lilac scented cause she’s allergic (she used to try to bond with you over your allergies because pretty flowers that make you sneeze and nuts that make you die? Same difference.) And you really really don’t remember her breath ever being this warm or blowing this softly against your ear.

Or - to hell with softly - blowing on your ear, period. Like at all.

And then she says the magic words, the ones guaranteed to fix what ails you. “I love you, too.”

Wait. Too?

You know, even though in your case it's Farrah, that there’s nothing like a mother’s love. And when you say 'nothing’, you’re totally including that voice and those words cause neither of them belong to Farrah.

You roll over, damn near causing a midair two head pileup as you come face-to-face and then, seconds later, lip-to-lip, with just about the last person you expected to see, this morning. Or kiss, this morning. Or feel quickly straddling you and sliding a pair of very soft yet surprisingly cold hands up under your shirt, this morning.

Or any morning.

And oh, guess what? Karma’s home.

You barely have time to register that she’s there - and by there, you mean on you and by on you, you mean on you - or to try and pull your lips from hers (which takes a surprising amount of effort, mostly because she’s chasing you as you move and one of those so cold hands is now on the back of your neck and damn, Karma’s been working out) when you hear the sound of your door opening back up.

“Amy, your mom said I could just come on up…”

Your eyes squeeze shut as Karma’s lips disconnect from yours with a loud smack (and you can already sense another one of those, the slightly more painful kind, in your near future) as she turns to the door.

“Oh, hey, Sophie,” Karma says and oh, how you wish you were fucking deaf. “Long time, no see.”

[5hfanfiction]

Seasons - Chapter 01

“Do you believe in mythology? The kind with gods, heroes and monsters. If you don’t, you’ll start to believe it; if you do, you’ll know that everything is true. Camila Cabello found this out the unusual way possible, dipping into a completely new world, full of dangers, monsters and the worst; she have to deal with Lauren Jauregui, an annoying, arrogant and beautiful Zeus’ daughter. What she didn’t know was that along with Lauren and her new friends from Camp Half-Blood, she would become the center of a plot full of adventures, mysteries and romance.”

Summer: Once upon a time a day that wasn’t normal

Hi, I’m Lina and I hope you’ll like my story. It’s based on Percy Jackson’s books.

Camila’s POV

Early in that morning, I considered myself a normal teenager. Sure, certain things insist on deny this statement, but to the point of my life, I had an idea that I was just a normal girl with a peculiar bad luck to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. I was a 16-year-old girl, who craved everything a teenager could want that age. No, I didn’t think about boyfriends, actually, it was very difficult to think about having a relationship with other people when I was constantly moving. So maybe one of the things I wanted most was that I have friends, that I could spend at least two birthdays with the same people. But that wasn’t possible, and part of it was my fault.

Not that I was a rebellious girl. On the contrary, I always wanted to do the right things so I wouldn’t give my mom any trouble. She was an exhausted and hardworking lady who did a bit of everything, a writer who spent much of her money to cover so many moves. Sinuhe wasn’t my real mother, she married my father when I was one year old. When Papa was still alive, things were much easier, but since he had been found dead in a street, everything had been drastically difficult. I was only seven at the time and all I understood was that I no longer had my hero. In her place was a warrior, with her ups and downs, but at the end of the night she still came to my room to wish me good night and place a kiss on my forehead.

So what went wrong? This was a question that kept repeating in my mind like a bad and scratchy disk.As much as I tried, I couldn’t fight certain things. I had something that the experts called dyslexia and hyperactivity, I used to say it was a pain in the ass. I couldn’t concentrate on studies, as it was almost impossible to sit still for more than half an hour. What made me uneasy in the classroom, doing everything but getting pay attention to what the teacher said. Oh, but these disorders are common and can be controlled, right? In parts, if that was just my problem. Certain things happened. Things that I often couldn’t explain. Many times I felt persecuted or being watched. A psychologist even suggested that I had paranoid schizophrenia, light type. Add to my long list of problems, small facts like being clumsy, curious and stubborn. It definitely put me in trouble too.

This year was being a great year. I had received only three detentions this month, I wasn’t expelled from school yet and summer vacations were about to begin. It was a week that I did not feel that bad feeling I was being chased. That was supposed to be the most normal day of my life. Was.

I met Dinah in the school entrance, as always. Dinah Jane was a tall, expansive girl with an incredible sense of humor. She was as dumb as me, which made her the closest I’ve ever had to a best friend. She was also agitated, and although she didn’t have to say it aloud, she also had difficulty keeping her attention.

“I think a slug can arrive early at school than you,” Dinah teased as soon as her eyes fell on me.

“Don’t start, DJ”, I asked with my usual bad morning mood.

“Woke up the Ms. Delicacy Ever” Polynesian girl laughed and began to follow me through the halls. “Have you told Aunt Sinu that we are going out at night?”

“Yes, I did. She was reluctant, but she let me go” I shrugged my shoulders despondently. “I can’t believe that I’m going to…”

“It’s a teenage party, guess what, you’re one! Even if you look like an old spinster who complaining about life”

“I know you love me, that’s enough for me and I-”

My thoughts were completely cut off. Suddenly my body bumps into something and my lack of body mass was totally in favor of gravity, making me to fall to the ground. I looked up still in shock, but as soon as my brown eyes locked in the green eyes of that girl, my anger rose to my head. Of course, it had to be that stupid Jauregui.

“Don’t you look where you’re going?” I grumbled and getting help from Dinah to get up. “Oh, I forgot you just have no education.”

“If you were as fast as your tongue is to speaking stupidity, you’d avoid many disasters.” she shot back promptly .

Well, up to that point, it was normal. Lauren Jauregui a troublemaker class A. No one really knew much about her, just that it wasn’t good to get in her way. Okay, I’d follow this rule very happy, if she wasn’t Dinah’s friend of Dinah. To this day, I wonder how this was possible because Dinah Jane despite her outgoing and imperative way, she was a great friend. It wasn’t possible to associate someone who is able to get close to Jauregui for more than five minutes.

“Don’t even think about,” Jauregui threatened as soon as I opened my mouth, her eyes changed from blue and green staring at me so intense that I almost stepped back. “DJ, I need to talk to you at lunch”

“I hope it’s important”, Dinah grumbled. “I always end up without lunch right when it happens”

“It is always important!” the Hispanic girl snapped.

Then Lauren leaves tripping over everything before her. No one dared stand in her way, so it was likely that students prefer jumping off her course than be bogged down. I glared at Dinah, raised eyebrows and sharp look.

“No point on do it Mila, I won’t say anything” Dinah shrugged and adjusted her backpack. “Now let’s go, the bell will ring and my first class is physics. Blah, I hate physics”

I grunted and bit my tongue so I wouldn’t argue with my friend. It was always like this. Lauren appeared with her “good” education and practically summoned Dinah. They missed the whole lunchtime, and then Dinah said nothing about what happened. Sometimes she would come back tired, as if she’d been running all the time, or even lightly injured. I believe that they are part of something dangerous, like a school gang and had to face other gangs, skipping from school for this. But I soon dismissed that possibility, it was just my fertile mind seeking reasons to have my only friend stolen from me. And even more for that girl.

While Dinah went to her physics class, I’d have my math torture dose. I hated math, and English, and chemistry, and physics… and every class. I had learning disabilities and instead of God making up for it by giving me a good advantage in sports, I had to be clumsy enough to almost suffer a serious accident every time I stepped on a sports court.

During class, I pretended to pay attention while trying to fool me, telling myself that I wasn’t bothered by Lauren have called Dinah for another secret meeting. I had to pretend I was ignoring that painful twinge of curiosity that always had when it happened. After all, Dinah was probably the only person on Earth who may know something about Lauren Jauregui. This girl was a real mystery, one that I didn’t care so much about finding out.

Prepotent, she didn’t follow orders or rules, violent enough to punch anyone in front of her. If I thought I had the records of going into detention, Lauren overcame me on showing up in that classroom for bad behavior or aggression.

Lunchtime came after a long and boring class in Political Geography. I was extremely discouraged to spend those thirty minutes alone when I saw Dinah and Lauren before they disappeared into a hallway. It was as if a little devil was whispering in my ear to follow them. I wondered where the little angel was saying I shouldn’t go, but he didn’t even bother to show up.

It would be just to know that Dinah was fine. Friends care about each other, right?

At least, that’s what I told myself as I almost ran toward that hallway hoping I wouldn’t lose sight of them. They both headed toward the deserted pool. The heater was broken and the principal never insisted on fix since the swim club trained in a school-affiliated club. I followed them at a safe distance, I didn’t want to imagine the Jauregui’s angry face or Dinah’s disappointment when she realized that I was following them. For a moment, I cursed my impulsivity and curiosity. But it was too late, I couldn’t go back, I had to find out what was going on, or I would be eternally tormented by my imagination.

They entered the empty building, and I waited a few minutes, looking for an alternative to enter without being caught. I went to a rusty window, just catching sight of Dinah sitting at the edge of the empty pool. Lauren remained standing, pacing back and forth, apparently nervous while argued something with I knew they were too distracted to notice my presence, so I managed to – incredibly – enter through the main door making no noise and direct me to some empty crates where it should be an old equipment of maintenance of the swimming pool.

“It may not be, Lauren,” Dinah argued tediously. “You said last week that Mrs. Turner might be a dracaenae, and even though she’s ugly like them, she’s just that, a grumpy old woman.”

“There’s something strange, Dinah!” Lauren huffed and ran a hand through her hair. “Last month there was that attack and I almost died because YOU said it was no big deal. And yet I was suspended for destroying the north courtyard” she stopped and pointed her finger. “This wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t run away with a tail between your legs”

“I’m sorry, but I couldn’t get another suspension, I would be expelled!”

What kind of argument was that?! Attack? Dracaenae? I frowned totally lost in what I was hearing. Everyone knew that Lauren had had an attack and broken things in the north courtyard, which luckily was empty for being class time.

“I still think Cabello is involved” Lauren said out of nowhere.

I almost stumbled forward with the scare I took to hear my name. How would I be involved?!

“She may be a sensitive human to the veil of mist.” Dinah let out a long sigh. “I stood beside her as much as I could Lauren, nothing much happened besides her having bad luck and a little persecution mania. You’re forgetting that Mila is 16, she’ll be 17 soon. Something should have already happened, it’s the rule now!”

“You know very well how they don’t follow the rules. Or I wouldn’t even exist, right?”

“Oh, I’m sorry princess sparkle and…”

“Shut up!”

“Are you sensitive today?”

“No, shut up, there’s someone here!”

My heart was pounding so hard I thought they could hear my heartbeat and find me. I was starting to cringe and preparing an escape route, when everything changed. A strong, hairy and tattooed arms wrapped around me as if I was a rag doll. I screamed in panic more by instinct than actually processing what happened. I was easily lifted from the ground.

“Finally found!” a strong and masculine voice rattled as if he’d found his lost toy.

I looked up, meeting the new school janitor. I knew that just because I saw him and thought him was weird. It might just be my panic-stricken impression, but the man now seemed more than six feet tall, his muscles as strong as iron. But his teeth were so sharp eerily that my blood seemed to run away from my veins.

“Let her go now!”

Lauren ordered. Dinah had jumped from in the spot and now looked at me in pure shock and horror.

“No, I finally found the package Master asked for!” the janitor said and snorted. “My teacher said not to attract attention. But eating demigods isn’t to attract attention, right?” then he threw me against the boxes as if I really were a rag doll. “First the annoying one! Then it will be your turn, girl!”

My whole back ached from the impact, I had fallen awkwardly and my ankle was throbbing in pain. But I barely processed it. The janitor seemed to grow more, getting rougher, wilder. The full-sleeve shirt that made up his uniform ripped with his toned muscles, showing his arms full of tattoos I could barely identify. His hair was even curlier, more hideous, the air that surrounded him was savagery. His eyes weren’t smart, but showed a frightening force..

But Lauren wasn’t intimidated. Instead, her gaze became even more threatening, even sparkling. She took a lighter out of her pocket and pointed it at the janitor as if it were something dangerous, like a pistol or revolver.

“Last chance” Lauren threatened, chin up, higher posture. God, she was crazy!

“Mila, over here” Suddenly Dinah was at my side, speaking quietly. “Lauren will distract the Laistrygonian and we will escape”

“Di-Dinah, what…? Lauren, she… Holy shit!”

I couldn’t formulate a sentence. My mind was like a blind knot unable to untie. Everything seemed to get worse when Lauren, somehow, squeezed the lighter and it unfolded rapidly, growing and turning into a sword. It wasn’t one of those toys, it was an item you saw in epic movies, with warriors wielding and brandishing as if they were knives. My eyes widened refusing to believe the things happening right in front of me. Dinah was trying to pull me, but my body was simply petrified. I stared at her as if she wasn’t real. How could she be?

“Mom always said to play with food!” the janitor said.

Lauren groaned typically. Held firmer the handle of the sword and I could swear that a wisp of electricity went through the blade. The janitor stepped forward, trying to punch her directly. Jauregui just swerved, rolling her body to the side and moving away a little bit. She had everything in control.

“Mila!” Dinah slapped me in the face, finally waking me up. “We need to go!”

The sense of escape was almost suffocating. I knew I was in danger of life, the feeling of persecution almost sank me down. This time when Dinah pulled me, I followed her promptly, allowing myself to be carried away by my friend.I looked back one last time, worried about Lauren. But all I could see was a warrior girl dodging a sequence of blows and hitting the sword in the arm what I believed was our janitor. Her gaze was serious, intent on the task of attacking and dodging. I was sure that this wasn’t her first battle, just as I was even more sure of another factor: my morning started normal, had its end.

Little did I know that was just the beginning.

[5hfanfiction]

GREEN IS THE WARMEST COLOR - CHAPTER 31

XXXI.

https://www.wattpad.com/story/66624703-green-is-the-warmest-color-camren-fanfic

Camila’s POV

It is a good day with the sun shining brightly and giving life to my once dull days, except the fact that Lauren and I have been avoiding each other for days. I’m in school and I really try my best to listen to every professor’s discussion for today but my mind just cannot seem to grasp on it fully. It just also seems that my English professor notices my uneasiness that she really chose for us to write about someone we would like to tell things to not regret and it just hits me right to my veins.

Minutes already have passed, slumped in my seat and mindlessly looking outside the window and if someone would ask me how I feel, they could look at my paper and I couldn’t describe it any better.

“Ms. Cabello?” I looked up all too sudden and Mr. Danwich is already staring at me with puzzled eyes. My eyes widen when I realize that I actually haven’t written anything on my paper. “You want to share to the class what you’ve written?”

I stop and my mind goes mayhem on what I’m going to response.

Mr. Danwich coughs. “Are you alright, Ms. Cabello?” As much as I’d like to shake my head and excuse myself from all the people here staring at me, I couldn’t.

I nod. “I… I’m sorry.” I start off. “I have- I haven’t really written anything because I’m not really a fine person today, you can say. But, I can share to everyone what my mind has to offer at the moment.”

Mr. Danwich smiles at me so warmly that my heart can’t help but smile back. I stand up and cough lightly clearing my throat. Some students keep on staring at me, some are smiling but some of them just mind their own business. I’m not really fond of being the center of attention; it just doesn’t work for me.

When I’m in front, I clear my throat once again and stare at the empty seat beside mine. I remember her words. The girl’s words as if she was spitting on my face that Lauren could never be mine.

“Hey! You look familiar.” She smiled at me and I furrowed my eyebrows processing my thoughts on how this girl who just approached me looked familiar too. “I’m not sure but I think you’re friends with Lauren?” And her name was like a key point to me that it all came back.

I knew this girl.

I just didn’t know where and how I knew her.

Suddenly my blood reached up its limit and I couldn’t look happy in front of this girl. “Oh right you’re Camila! I saw your Instragram post. So you and Lauren are like… together now?” She inquired as if it was a normal thing. I kept my tight grasp around the book that I’ve been holding.

“Yes we’re together. Why?” I answered with full of confidence. Before she even responded, the girl who worked at the bookstore interrupted us to place new books in the shelves.

She smiled wickedly after the girl left us two alone. “Oh nothing. I feel you girl. She loved me once too, especially when she asked me one night to go to her place and that night was indeed the best night of my life.”

I was taken aback that I almost gasped in shock. “W-what… what d-do you mean?”

She played with the books in the shelves and stared at me. “Right of course she didn’t tell you. We were together for months and we had sex at her place, almost every night.”

This bitch.

My mouth stopped forming the words.

No way. There is no way she lied to me.

“And oh, don’t worry Lauren never settles with one girl anyways. You have to get used to it.” She picked the book that wasn’t familiar to me and placed it around my grasp. “Lauren likes this book, you should buy this for her. Also, say hi for me too! See you soon, Camila. Cheers for the both of you.” She bid goodbye and I was left there, my mind lost and my heart being broken into pieces.

That was just a fast interaction but that was enough to break my heart.

“Ms. Cabello, you may start now.” Mr. Danwich stops my train of thoughts leading me to the present.

I clear my throat for the last time and start. “To the person I’d never forget,” My voice almost broke in the end. “I didn’t lie when I said your eyes were the greenest of the purest greens and I got lost into those every time I watched you. I didn’t lie when I said as long as you’re happy I would be too. I didn’t lie when I said you amazed me every time you uttered words I couldn’t quite process. I didn’t lie when I said you’re cute when you’re jealous or annoyed.” I stopped for a moment to keep my heart from beating rapidly and resumed. “I didn’t lie when I said I could look at you forever and your eyes would still remain the same. I didn’t lie when I said my heart was not beating normal when you were around. I never lied to you and most of all, I didn’t lie when I confessed I loved you. Because that’s how I’ve been feeling and there was no need for lying because even the truth doesn’t always make people happy, it makes people feel better.” I wiped the tear trying to run down from my eyes. “Maybe I lied to myself when my feelings were starting to grow for you but I didn’t lie to you. You’re my home but even if I feel homesick, I don’t know when I’ll be coming back to you.” That’s it. That’s how I ended it; especially when Lauren’s eyes locked with mine.

The world suddenly stopped moving.

“I just don’t know if you’re still my home.” I managed to whisper into thin air.

And just like that, Lauren is nowhere to be seen. My classmates are clapping their hands and screaming for my name as if I made a public speech. I look at Mr. Danwich and he is smiling and if I’m not mistaken, his smile looks like it’s comforting me quietly.

The bell rings and I cover my face with my two hands, rushing to my seat to take my things with me, when a hand taps my shoulder.

“Hey there Mila.” I’m relieved that it’s only Ally. “How are you doing? That’s quite a speech a while ago.” She informs and I return my focus on placing my things inside my bag.

“So you heard it.” I tell her.

She helps me on putting my things inside my bag. “Yes. I was outside your room a while ago.” So it wasn’t Lauren who was outside and I was just hallucinating. “Was that speech? Was that?” She wants to insinuate something and she wants to know something. I know it.

“Yes Ally. Lauren and I broke up.” I didn’t know where did I get my strength to say that too quickly but Ally’s surprise didn’t come and she nods as if she already knows about it. “She told you?”

She nods once again. “She didn’t tell me you broke up though. She only told me that you’re mad at her and she’s mad at herself.” I suddenly felt the pang of guilt because on what Ally told me, it only means that Lauren still thinks we’re together; that this is just some phase in one’s relationship wherein we’ll fix.

But I don’t know anymore. She’s my first relationship and she lied to me. Should I still trust someone who is capable of lying?

“If you want to feel any better, she looks massive hell. She cries and doesn’t eat every night. She still goes to school but ends up sleeping in each class anyways.” I walk towards the hallways and Ally’s footsteps follow me. “She loves you Mila. You just…. you just have to trust her again and give her one more chance.”

I stopped and stare at Ally.

“I don’t know… I’m sorry I don’t know Ally. I don’t even know if I can still look at her, let alone be around her.” I admit and Ally’s eyes are solely focused on mine. “I loved her don’t get me wrong but-.”

“-you don’t love her anymore?!” She interrupts me. “That’s love for you Mila? She cannot even forgive herself and I can see it in her eyes. And that girl? That girl you talked to at the bookstore? You believed everything she said when Lauren was with you that night and basically confessed and surrendered herself with you.” I’m taken aback and my eyes widen at Ally’s sudden outburst. “She even told me she’d talk to her mom if that’s what it would take for you to come back to her again.”

Ally walks towards me and surprisingly hugs me. “I know you’re hurting. She is your first and I know you secretly wish for her to be your last and that you could get to wake up seeing her face every morning. But it’s not only you who’s hurting Mila. Lauren is hurt and devastated too. I only know one reason why.” She stops mid- sentence. “It’s because you love each other.”

Suddenly I’m crying and Ally’s comforting me by tapping my back and my head resting on her shoulder. “Ssshhh. It’s going to be okay. You’re both going to be okay. Sometimes relationships really have to go through tough times, but that’s what makes it worth fighting for because you get stronger.” She lets go of our hug and I wipe my eyes with my handkerchief when her phone buzzes.

Ally looks at me and I already know it’s a message from Lauren.

“What does it say?” Ally looks confused and alarm while reading the text. “Did something bad happen to Lauren? Ally tell me!” I snatch the phone out of her hand and read the text.

L: I’m going to my parents’ house I’m coming back and don’t tell anyone. I trust you Ally. I’m going to find myself and I’m going to let go of what keeps me stuck from moving. I’ll see you Ally and please do watch Camila for me.

I’m puzzled and my thoughts are rambling inside my mind. This is not happening. She’s leaving and she’s leaving because of me. She’s not ready but she has to because of me. Oh my God.

“She just texted this means she’s probably not on her way yet. I left Dinah with her. Goddamnit I told Dinah not to leave her alone because she tends to do crazy things when she’s hurt.” Ally drags me towards the exit of the university campus. “You just leave your car here Mila. We’ll take mine, is that alright with you?” I nod. Honestly I’m just going to follow everything Ally instructs me to do so.

My mind cannot even think of anything better to do. It’s focused on hoping to still see Lauren.

While we’re on our way to Lauren’s place, my mind and heart are coordinating with each other hoping that Lauren failed to leave and Dinah was there to stop her. Even though she’s hoping for the better she quite knows that Lauren tends to do things on her own and whenever she does, no one can possibly stop her. But still, please please please, I pray to myself a bunch of times while we pass by the roads and various people walking and running the streets.

I closed my eyes for a bit until the car came at halt at the familiar place my eyes suddenly recognized. I felt it. Somehow the seemingly empty place made me feel I lost her.

Did already I?

Ally guides me carefully inside Lauren’s place. She doesn’t even bother to knock, she rushes on opening the front door and Dinah cracking up jokes while Lauren is eating come into view. Normani emerges from the kitchen and all too sudden, the three girls looked at us in surprise. Lauren immediately stopped eating and stood up still staring at me. Wait, what? I’m confused.

I stare at Ally and she smiles at me weakly. Dinah and Normani may have seemed to decide on leaving when they walked towards the front door where Ally and I are stuck. Dinah did not even bother asking me when she’s already in front of me. Normani stays silent too. Ally taps my shoulder for a bit guiding me to get inside, fully. They just smiled at me as if implying something. The three girls now left us alone. Lauren and I though remain silent in what seemed forever.

“Hi.” The green-eyed girl breaks the silence. “W-what are you doing here?” She inquires and I’m speechless because I’d be asking her that question, not the other way around.

“I….” She begins walking towards me. “I… I’m sorry… I thought you’re-.”

I stopped when she’s only meters apart from me. I could feel her warmth and I could smell her familiar scent. She lifts her hand to touch my arm. I closed my eyes. I closed my eyes and my mind wandered to those days we were just happy. There was nothing interfering and it was only about us. My eyes remained closed even when she slowly enveloped my whole being in her arms. It really takes a special someone’s hug to make all the broken pieces stick back together.

Somehow I’m whole again.

I can feel her hot and calm breath against my neck. “Camz,” She starts off. “I missed you.” And it’s enough for my arms to find their way back home. I didn’t notice a tear escaping freely from my right eye. I hug her right back. I make sure that she can never go far away from me.

A matter of seconds passed and I was the one to let go. “What is it Camz? What do you want to say?” She slowly and carefully inquires; green eyes stuck staring into mine.

“I thought you’re going away.” My voice broke in the end. “I thought you’re going to leave and you’ll never go back. I just… I just thought I could never see you again.” I admitted while wiping my eyes with my bare hands.

Lauren cups both of my cheeks with her soft trembling hands. “Babe, I’ll never leave you unless you want me to.” The green- eyed girl confirms. “Where did you even get that information?”

I stare at her blankly. “You texted Ally and told her that you’re leaving.” Now, she shares the exact puzzled expression with me. “When she told me about your decision we quickly made our way here.”

“I didn’t… I mean… what? I didn’t t-text her. I was talking to Dinah about you. I was asking her how to get you back and how to make you trust me again. I was planning to do the first step but then you’re here.” I’m confused. So that’s why? That’s why they didn’t even look surprised because this is all their plan all along? “I’m sorry Camz.” She reached for my hands and caresses it. “I love you. I love you so much. I am in love with you.”

It’s all music to my ears when she keeps on confessing her feelings. It’s like a new world to me and I’m more than willing to take a risk just to accept it wholly. “Wait, they tricked us.” Lauren furrowed her eyebrows when a realization hit me. “They tricked us and made up a story for us to talk, alone. You didn’t know about this?”

Lauren places her hand on top of her chest where her heart lies. “I promise babe. I’m innocent here too. I would never lie to you anymore.” I chuckles and so she does too.

I notice there is box placed on top of the table. “What is that?” I asked her.

“Oh that’s the box of cupcakes I was about to give you when Lily came and talk to you and suddenly everything went black to my vision.” She made me remember. “I don’t know if the cupcakes still taste good because it’s been days but-.”

“Do you mind?” I interrupted her rambling.

Her face suddenly lit up. “Sure of course. That’s yours anyways.” She immediately reached for the box of cupcakes and checks on it before finally giving it to me. “You can open it. Whatever you want to do with it.”

I smile at her expressing my gratitude. When I opened the box, there lies a dozen of cupcakes with a note on each cupcake. I closed the box in a rush.

“Why? What’s the problem?” Alarmed, she asked.

“Nothing. I will just check them later when I get back.” But honestly, I’m just not much ready to read anything she’s written on each note. I’d look vulnerable in front of her again and it makes me look a whole total mess. I stand up and adjust the hem of my shirt before smiling at Lauren for the third time today.

“Are you… are you going to go now?” She asks in a soft tone. Her hands are shaking and so I grasp them fully and hold them carefully to ease the tension. She looks surprised yet calm and relieved.

I witness how her eyes changed colors but today makes it more interesting. “Lauren, I still love you. I’m still yours and I just hope that you trust me enough to share anything you have in mind.” She nods slowly and smiles cheerfully. “I have to-.” I was interrupted with a quick peck on the lips.

It tasted like cigarettes and tears mixed up together but it still felt the same.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

And just like that, I bid goodbye and left her place in seconds while touching and letting myself get lost to the peck on my lips that made me still want to go on and vision my future with her. I waited for the cab that I contacted to return to Dinah and I’s dorm near the university. As the cab kept on invading the busy streets, I remember the box of cupcakes. Quickly, I reached for the first note I could touch. I inhaled and exhaled deeply before opening the whole note.

‘You’re my happy ending.’