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harryandmolly · 6 years ago

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When the World Stops Turning - Chapter 15, pt. 1

summary: a love story in two voices - cowritten with @achinglyshawn

warnings: Language, angst

word count: 7.1k

october

Lydia packs. She packs and packs and packs and it’s the perfect distraction. She strategizes and re-strategizes until her system is flawless. Because at least her system can be flawless if her heart is a fucking shambles. She does text Shawn when she gets home. She wonders if he notices that it’s hours after she left his apartment. She talks to Paul for over an hour lying in the backseat of her car until a meter maid knocks on the window and tells her to leave. The semester isn’t ending until December but she packs anyway. She doesn’t want to see anything that isn’t school related. She’s getting a jump on things — it’s good. She accepts every invitation her nervous friends extend to her during the month of October. She drinks hard and smiles harder, hoping she can fool everyone, including herself, into thinking she didn’t just make the biggest mistake of her life.

He hates that saying, be careful what you wish for, etc etc, but it hangs heavy in this heart these days. He goes through the motions of tour, but it feels distant, like he's not really there, not really experiencing it. He looks at pictures from the tour photographers after each show, and each time he doesn't recognize the man smiling back at him like he's having the greatest fucking time of his life.

His mum is an angel and spares Shawn the need to inform the team of the breakup. She calls Andrew and Andrew lets it spread quietly, and that's kind of nice, that he doesn't have to talk about it. He wouldn't like the way people walk on eggshells around him though, if he were present enough in his own life to care. It's a little pathetic, he thinks, how fucked up over this he is. He can't even bring himself to write music about it. Can't bring himself to put a pen to paper, let alone find a melody to match the way he's feeling. He feels cacophonous and distorted and distant all at once. He doesn't feel like pop music or rock ballads. He feels like white noise and tinnitus. That doesn't make for very good music. Shawn can't believe he used to want this. He used to think about the songs he would write with a little more life experience and a broken heart. He always felt like people were maybe laughing with him when he'd say that, but now he realizes they were laughing at him. And how fucking stupid he was. Now he thinks about the songs he could write if Lydia ever wanted him back, and it keeps him in the shower too long every morning. He pictures what she would say to him when she realized she couldn't leave Toronto without getting him back, how she would kiss him and say she's sorry and how she knows now that being without him during tour is way better than being without him at all and if that's what it takes to have him in her life, then she'll do it. Sometimes he thinks about going to her, thinks about how charming it might be if he found a condo in Vancouver that she could live in during her internship, and that he could go to after tour and they could be together, live together and maybe get a hypoallergenic cat. Every morning he emerges from the shower and reality hits him like the cold air of the white marble bathroom. The fuzzy feeling comes back and his skin goes numb and he doesn't feel like imagining anymore. He smiles on stage and shouts and sings like it's never been more important, and the whole time his brain is off, unavailable to make new memories because all he can think about anymore is the way Lydia's nails sliced his skin open as she pulled his heart from between his ribs and carried it away to Vancouver.

november

Lydia can barely get Paul off the phone these days. She’s sure he’s afraid to leave her alone with her thoughts for too long which makes a lot of sense and honestly, he’s probably right to shield her from the frantic chaos of her own mind. She feels... everything. She went numb in the immediate moments after the break up but since a few hours after, it’s like her senses are on high alert. At least he doesn’t have to deal with her being famous. Everywhere she turns, there he is. He’s on Instagram or on E! News or on tabloids at every grocery store she wanders into because she never goes to the same one twice now to try to escape him. But he’s inescapable so she’s on edge 24/7. Her birthday falls the week before American Thanksgiving every year. She’s turning 27 which sounds and feels old. It sounds more adult than she feels. Her friends take her out and get her plastered and she manages to get past the stage of drunk where she usually starts crying over him and instead manages to enjoy herself. One afternoon she’s lying on the couch studying for finals surrounded by more unpacked boxes when his voice comes on shuffle. It’s ‘Particular Taste.’ She sits ramrod straight and slams her finger on the remote for her stereo as fast as she can. She sits with her head between her knees for a few minutes to breathe. His voice has crowded out the rest of her chaotic thoughts. It should be calming, the singularity of it. But it haunts her. She gets home early from Quinn and Ellie’s a few days after her birthday to a package leaning against her apartment door. Somehow before she looks at it, she already knows who it’s from.

He starts drinking more often. He knows it's probably a bit destructive, but everything feels more real when he's got some bourbon in him and he's a little buzzed. It's the opposite of how alcohol used to make him feel, and he's scared of liking it so much. But then he throws up on Lydia's birthday and he decides he hates alcohol and he's never drinking it again. He's sure that's how everyone feels when they puke from alcohol, but he means it. He accepts Teddy's invite to start getting high with her instead.

Being high is nice; it's not as bad for him and it's awesome for his anxiety. He's pleasantly chilled the day after Lydia's birthday and the haze in his mind is so much softer and gentler than the icy numbness he's felt since the break up. It's in the clarity of the high that he's able to think about Lydia without wanting to scream, and then he remembers her birthday present. It's wrapped up under his bed and he disappears to retrieve it, ignoring the way Teddy calls after him. He re-emerges insisting she drive him to post office like, now. No one can say no to him these days, so they're at the post office 10 minutes later and Shawn is paying for a box to fit the gift in and overnight shipping to Lydia's address. Teddy's looking at him the entire time like she's not sure if this is healthy or like, normal, but she lets him go because it's probably the most self-aware thing he's done in a month and a half. Shawn tilts his head against the window of the car as Teddy drives them back to his condo. He sighs a little, and says, "I just hope she's happy," and his voice is a gruff whisper, like he's mostly talking to himself, so Teddy hums, then reaches and turns up Shake It Off on the radio. Shawn laughs. It feels a little more real than before.

His family doesn’t do American Thanksgiving or whatever, but he goes home anyway and his mum makes turkey anyway because he says he’s craving it.

He’s not, but he remembers the Thanksgiving meal Lydia described for him when she promised to take him home with her for the holidays, and he decides he doesn’t want to be alone.

Lydia needs some moral support so she makes Nadia and Annie come over to stare at the box with her while she decides if she’s going to open it. “I’m gonna do it,” Annie warns. “You will not,” Nadia shoots back. Lydia eyes the box, exhausted. It’s been days that it’s sat on her coffee table making her think too hard. Finally, she sits up and cuts open the box. On top are bags of her favorite roast of coffee from the Himalayan place for her to take to Vancouver. But below it is a vintage vinyl. It’s Can’t Help Falling in Love. She sees there’s a note. She hands it to Nadia. She stares at the record while Annie and Nadia exchange a glance. “So you can have a piece of Alice with you wherever you go,” Nadia reads quietly. Her voice breaks a little. Annie reaches for tissues. Lydia stares at the vinyl with a broken smile. She’s numb again. A few days later, inappropriately long after she’s received the gift, she texts him two words: “thank you.” It’s all she can do to not run away and shut herself up in Hamilton House alone for Thanksgiving. But Paul and Nick are hosting in Boston in their new brownstone and she’s the only one who knows how to make Alice’s cranberry blueberry pie so she has to go. She’s glad she does. Nick and Paul announce they’re adopting and their baby, a little boy, is going to be born in May to a 16-year-old in Omaha. Lydia cries so hard it worries her family but it’s the first thing she’s been happy about in months. The problem is that the first thing she wants to do is tell Shawn. She wants to tell him everything first.

december

December brings Lydia a completed masters degree. Her parents throw a hybrid holiday bash/graduation party. Paul and Nick fly down with sonograms.

She feels ok.

Shawn thinks of at least ten different things to say when she finally texts him ‘thank you’. For the the birthday present, he’s guessing.

I love you, how are you?, are you happy?, happy birthday, you’re welcome, I’m sure you’ll love Vancouver, etc etc.

In the end, he doesn’t say anything at all. She scares him now, like she did when they first met. Maybe more. He wants her back, but he wants to be good enough to deserve her. Which means respecting her feelings and giving her the space she needs. It also means growing up a bit himself, he thinks. He still can’t write songs about her, but he thinks about the songs he might want to write, one day. Songs about what he’s learned from this, but he’s not sure what exactly that is yet. So he doesn’t worry about lyrics, just sits for hours with his guitar or at the computer. He finally starts going live again. He sings covers of songs he never sang around Lydia and he ignores questions about her and he plucks tunes he’s fooling around with. He only realizes how somber they sound when he watches back some of the recordings he finds on Twitter. He’s not home for Christmas, so he FaceTimes with his family and pretends he’s not close to tears. Even though they always do a team holiday dinner thing that he spends too much money on, he feels lonely and he just wants to go home. (He has a sneaking suspicion that home won’t completely dull the ache of loneliness thrumming beneath his skin, but he doesn’t want to think about it.)

The Hamiltons, heavy on tradition and boozy eggnog, opt to spend Christmas and New Years in Nantucket. The island is almost deserted this time of year, just the way Lydia likes it. Most of her favorite little shops are closed, including the ice cream shop that has the world’s best pistachio milkshake, or so she says, but the whole island feels like their little secret. She’s always liked that about winter.

She finds herself wandering up to Alice’s room. SM3 remains exactly where she left it.

Everything is as she left it because it’s all hers now and she has to give permission before anyone messes with anything. She not-so-subtly reminds her mother of this. She drinks too much eggnog every night and thinks about him on Christmas morning and hopes he’s enjoying his family. She wonders what he got Aaliyah for Christmas.

january

Lydia falls asleep in her bed in the Pavilion at 9pm on New Years Eve. She wakes up early the next morning, grumpy over a dream she had of she and Shawn walking down the beach but the beach kept getting narrower and the house kept getting further and she was very disturbed by this but he was ever so casual. She makes French toast for her family and leaves for Toronto to move out of her apartment.

It’s weird leaving. She never really liked this space much. She’d be glad to be rid of it if it didn’t hold quite so much of him. They did some falling in love here. They certainly made some love here on various surfaces, flat and otherwise. Her heart broke open here when she tried to keep it safe and she hasn’t quite got the pieces to fit back together yet but she’s working on it.

She’s excited about Vancouver, she really is, if only to get out of a city where she isn’t just a little concerned about running into him somewhere when he’s home. With a piece of her grandmother’s inheritance, she signs a nice 6-month lease on a condo in the heart of the city and cuts her hair to a sleek lob which she sobs over for a few hours, then decides was a good idea.

Some girl he doesn’t know kisses him at midnight while he’s drunk at another Niall Horan party. He stumbles away from her, mumbling an apology, and he winds up in Niall’s empty bedroom, collapsed on his bed. He lies there and thinks about how that girl stole a kiss from Lydia, and then he laughs drunkenly at himself about how stupid he still is. It’s been months now and he’s still so stupid over her. Still so fucking in love, too. “Shawny?” Shawn sits up a little too fast at the sound of Niall’s voice, and he has to catch his head in his hands as his friend comes into the room. “Hey,” he hiccups when he’s able to look up, “Killer party.” Niall looks concerned and not at all like he’d been downing his sixth pint a moment ago. The Irish, man. They know how to hold their booze. “Y’alright there, mate?” Niall asks as he sits next to Shawn on the bed. Shawn shrugs a little, then nods. He holds up a thumb and wiggles it in Niall’s face. “I am awesome, /mate/,” he says, then laughs at himself because he’s not awesome. He’s alone. “Saw you run away from that bird back there. What’d ya do that fer?” Shawn shakes his head a little, then shrugs, slurs, “Not Lydia, thas’ all.” “You’ll never get over Lydia if ya keep runnin’ from all the girls who aren’t her.” Yeah, tell him something he doesn’t know. Shawn rolls his eyes a little and falls back against the bed. He doesn’t feel like arguing. “Okay,” he says instead, “that makes sense.” Niall laughs at him, then pats his knee and tells him he’ll see Shawn back out there. He stops as he’s about to go through the door, watches Shawn for a moment, then says, “It’s okay if yer not ready to move on yet. Ye’ loved that girl a lot,” before he disappears. Shawn already knew it was okay that he’s not over her yet, but for some reason, hearing it from someone else calms something inside of him. He finds it a little easier to breathe for the next few days.

Vancouver is big and beautiful and devoid of Shawn Mendes. Not entirely, of course, she feels like she’ll never not see his face somewhere she’s not ready to see it, like on a magazine in her office’s waiting room, but there aren’t memories of him stashed around every corner the way there are in Toronto. She still thinks of him every morning when she opens her bag of coffee beans, though. And at many other inappropriate times. Lydia makes friends easily, always has. Her office has a bunch of interns and they all get together and go out. It’s nice because none of them are from Vancouver so they explore together. One night they’re out at a club that Lydia’s pretending not to hate when a remix of ‘Holding Me Back’ comes on and she leaves suddenly without warning. She doesn’t really have to feign an illness because she does feel sick.

february February brings more frigid weather and Valentine’s Day which Lydia does her damnedest to ignore. It makes her feel more hollow than she expected. She’s never been big on Valentine’s Day but she imagines Shawn would’ve done something special for her because he can’t resist. She wonders if he’s seeing anyone. The thought turns her stomach. But she remembers she’s not allowed to think that way. She drinks half a bottle of champagne by herself and almost calls him. Really, her finger is hovering over the call button. She calls Paul to wake him up and cry instead. “Dit, sweetie, it’s been 4 months. I don’t want this break up to ruin your whole life,” Paul says, sounding tired. His sympathy has been wearing thin lately. Lydia either has to get over this kid or get him back because this cannot go on.

He’s about as high as a kite while he lounges on his balcony. He’s halfway through a joint Teddy left for him “in case of emergency”, when he decides to look at Lydia’s Instagram. Yesterday, Valentine’s day, he’d purposefully avoided anything that reminded him of her. But today is the day after Valentine’s and he’s high now so he doesn’t really think it would hurt to see if she’s posted a picture or something. The first new picture he sees is of what he guesses is her desk at work. It’s organized with beautiful precision and it’s so fucking Lydia it makes his heart hurt a little. The next picture is of Lydia, and he thinks his heart stops. That, or it’s beating so fast it feels frozen. She cut her hair. It looks good. So good. But it makes his stomach twist with something unpleasant because he knows Lydia and he knows how much she loved her long hair. He can’t help but think that maybe there’s some symbolism there, that she cut her hair as a way to emphasize her fresh start: a new job, a new town, new hair, and newly single. He feels like the hair that’s been cut away, swept up and tossed out like an old memory she’s ready to part with. He’s calling her before he realizes it, his thumbs moving of their own accord. Shit.

Lydia’s got her hands full, quite literally. She’s balancing her travel coffee mug, phone and keys in one hand and trying to wrestle with her laptop bag and sunglasses with the other. She’s in one of her prim little office dresses with a pair of chunky block heels that are tricky to navigate in down the icy steps to her parking spot. The phone rings. She’s sure it’s Paul or her mom. It could be Nadia or Paloma but they’re on the east coast at their internships and wouldn’t likely be calling at this hour. “Helloooo?” she mutters into the phone, answering without checking as she wrenches her door open.

She greets him in way that tells him she probably didn’t look before answering. It’s soft and comfortable, like maybe she thinks it’s Paul or Margo or someone. Definitely not her ex. He should hang up. He should hang the fuck up. But then a wave of relief washes over him as he realizes this means she hasn’t blocked his number (maybe she deleted it but whatever), and he hears himself blurt, “You cut your hair.”

The same thing that has happened any time she’s heard his voice in the last four and a half months happens again, most inconveniently. She can’t fucking breathe.

She doesn’t say anything, and maybe she’s gone into shock, or maybe she dropped the phone, he doesn’t know, but he wants her to talk to him more than anything. He takes a breath. “It— it looks good. You look good. Vancouver suits you.”

She manages to drop her things on the hood of her car and put a hand in the hair he notices she’s cut. That means he’s checking her Instagram. She unfollowed him months ago. She kept drunkenly checking it and it was bad for her. Something occurs to her. He sounds a little off, like he might be drunk or something. He’s still drunkenly thinking about her. She can’t say she expected that. In her mind’s eye he’s been running around doing what 22 year olds do — fucking everything that moves. That was somehow easier for her to imagine than him missing her. Like it sounds like he is. “I.... hi. Yes. I cut it. I can’t decide if I hate it or not. I’m... sorry, I didn’t expect... to hear from you. Where—where are you?”

He should hang up. It takes her forever to say anything and when she finally does, it’s hesitant and perplexed and a little like she wishes she could hang up on him. His heart aches. It takes him a second to realize she’s asked him a question, and he has to smack his lips before answering because they kind of felt glued together and maybe he’s higher than he thought. “Where— uh, I’m, yeah, I’m home! Tour’s over.” He lets out a soft sigh and it’s the relief of his own words. He’s glad to not be pretending all the time anymore. He’s told Andrew he needs time off, that he needs to find his way back to the right headspace for writing, and so that’s that. He’s on a break. And he feels better, not having to fake a smile all the time or talk about his life like he doesn’t feel as though he’s drifting away from Earth because gravity has decided to relinquish its hold on him. “Where... are you?” He asks before she can say anything.

He’s definitely not sober. She glances at her watch. It’s the middle of the day in Toronto. Which is fine, she supposes, since he’s not on tour. Her stomach drops at the idea that if she had stuck around she could be with him right now. They could be together. “I’m... standing in front of my car. I’m leaving for work soon. I have a patient at 11.”

"Oh, fuck," he says, because he totally forgot about the time difference before he called her. It's 10 her time and here he is acting like he can do whatever the fuck he wants whenever the fuck he wants to. "I'm so sorry, Dit, I didn't even think about the time."

He calls her Dit like it’s August and they’re still crazy, stupid in love. She plants a hand on her car for stability and closes her eyes.

She has no idea what to say to him. She’s afraid of what might come out of her mouth so she forces herself to stay neutral. “How... was tour? Fun?” She wants to smack herself. His brows raise at her question. He didn't expect her to want to continue on with the conversation, especially since she's on her way to work. He can't answer for a moment because he's never lied to her before and he doesn't want to start now. Tour was horrible, but there's no reason to make her feel bad for it. It's his own fault that he couldn't get over her, even if he still disagrees with her stupid reason for leaving. Then, there's his ego. The idiotic part of him that doesn't want her knowing he's hurt, that he spent all tour licking his wounds. That he's still licking them right now, as he gets blazed in the middle of the day, alone. So he says, "Great," and lets a smile split his lips so it sounds as genuine as he can make it while his mouth feels thick with smoke. "It was really, like, awesome. The crowds were nuts." He doesn't actually remember the crowds like he usually does. He doesn't remember the shows like he usually does. Lydia doesn't need to know that, though. “That’s— that’s great, Shawn. I’m glad. You must be happy to be home though.” She hears it in his voice under a layer of whatever substance he’s on. It’s relief. She recognizes it as the same thing she felt when she got to Vancouver and got her fresh start. Doesn’t feel so fresh when he’s calling her. She has to end this soon because she doesn’t know where it’s going. “I need to get to work soon. Uhm, did you just call to say hi, or?” She sounds a little dismissive. She doesn’t mean to, she’s just anxious. But she thinks maybe it’s better if he isn’t thinking she’s missing him still as much as she is. She thinks about the fact that she hasn’t been able to come since they broke up. She’s tried, boy has she tried, but it’s like her body is broken. She assures herself that like everything else that’s wrong with her right now, it will be healed with time and space.

So, she’s obviously not interested in talking. Big fucking surprise there. He almost laughs at himself instead of answering her. All these months later and he’s still just as desperate as he was the day she broke up with him. He’s supposed to be a rockstar. He’s supposed to move on, to write a Grammy award winning break up album and have another woman on his arm when it drops. Clearly, that’s not what’s happening. “Oh, I, yeah, I’m sorry. Sorry, Lydia, I was just wondering, I guess. Have you smoked weed before?” He wasn’t actually wondering that, but he pretends he was so that he can stay on the phone with her just a bit longer. He should hang up but he doesn’t want to. He wants to keep pretending she might still love him.

She’s piling into her car and pretending like she can go about her day like this isn’t the biggest thing that’s happened to her since she moved out here. She’s jamming her coffee mug into a cup holder when she hears his question. “Have I...” She chuckles and it doesn’t sound as dead as usual. “Yes. I smoked in college. And on girls nights. Paloma always got good weed from Seb.” Now she gets it. He’s high. She likes the idea of him getting high and lying out on his balcony. She bets he’s so fucking cute and spacey when he’s high. She stops that train of thought before it can take her off the rails. “Why do you ask?”

It’s actually pretty sexy, that Lydia likes to smoke. He bets she’s sexy when she’s high, probably giggles more but in a lazy way that would make him wanna bury his face in her neck and rut his hips against her ass. He doesn’t want to think about it. Instead he grabs the lighter, smushes his phone between his ear and his shoulder, then lights his joint again, inhaling as Lydia asks him a question. He manages not to cough while he talks around the smoke billowing from his mouth, “Oh, well, you know. Just thought you’d like it, eh?” He’s such a moron, but his phone is stuck to his cheek and if they’re gonna end this conversation, she’ll have to be the one to do it.

She hears the lighter and smiles a little foolishly. Fuck. She wishes she had a joint. She wishes she had him and a joint. He hasn’t gotten any less sweet or thoughtful. Her amused smile drops a little. She looks around her car. “I gotta go. I’m... I mean, it was nice to hear your voice today. I hope—“ She stops short of finishing that thought. “Enjoy your break from touring. And enjoy your weed.”

End the conversation is exactly what she does. She sounds distant and maybe a little cold, but some of her words stick in his head. He says goodbye distractedly, thinking about the way she said it was nice to hear his voice. He drops his phone, hits the joint, and wonders what she meant by that. It’s not the usual pleasantry - it was nice hearing from you - which is cordial and polite and something you say to someone you don’t really want to talk to again. But nice to hear his voice? That’s different. It’s got a different connotation, even if the words are basically the same. The joint eventually goes out and he fucks around on his phone until he gets too cold to be outside and not smoking, so he goes in for a hot shower. He decides to touch himself, and It’s the first time he’s been able to jerk off properly without feeling utterly guilty for thinking about Lydia or having to stop half way through. He considers that a victory.

march

February ends largely the way it began — quietly and cold. She can’t stop thinking about why he called her. He wasn’t supposed to call her. He’s supposed to be forgetting all about her. Well, not all about her. But he’s supposed to be moving on and getting happy and it’s been five months and she’s really starting to think they’re both still raw. It doesn’t help that she can’t relieve her stress with an orgasm. She doesn’t consider for a second the idea of going out and finding one — she’s not ready for that. But fuck, she can’t even manage one on her own. One night, vibrator, erotica and porn have failed her again and she’s so fucking desperate that she lets herself do something she hasn’t since they broke up. She pictures Shawn’s soft curls between her thighs, imagines the way he would look up at her with eyes dark and probing while nipping at her clit to make her eyes roll back in her fucking head. She comes in under five minutes and it’s so intense she tears up a little. It was a bad idea, in retrospect, because now she knows definitively what her body is craving and it’s not an orgasm. It’s him. She flirts with checking flights like she used to do when he was on tour and she needed to see him. She doesn’t want to actually book one. That would be insane. She put 6 months into recovering from this break up, she’s not throwing that away now to selfishly run back to him and admit she was wrong and beg him to take her back. But she does think about it.

Nothing changes after the phone call, and he’s not sure why he thought it might. He let himself read far too much into her ‘nice to hear your voice’ comment, convinced himself that that meant she’d wanna hear it again, and then next she’d be calling him. But she doesn’t. All she does is bake cake and post pictures of the process on Instagram. He wonders who helped her lick the bowl when he wasn’t there to do it. He hopes no one. That’s his job. Eventually, he forces himself to unfollow her social media accounts because he’s tired of being hopeful over something that’s obviously not going to happen. The more weeks go by, the less he’s able to think, ‘Well, one day...’ because the days keep coming but she doesn’t call him, doesn’t reach out, doesn’t make any indication that she thinks about him, ever. He thinks he owes it to himself to stop thinking about her. Or to try, at least. He writes music, instead. He writes a song he calls Fade, and it’s not very good and there aren’t many lyrics, as he basically just sings “and I’m fading in the morning, burning out at night” over and over in different ways, but it’s how he’s felt these last few months, so he likes it. He plays it on a live session and most fans are nice and say they like it and some of them ask if he’s on drugs because that’s what it sounds like and some people ask if it’s about Lydia. He doesn’t answer anyone. His manager says his studio heard the song and they like it. They like the “minimalist LA vibe” and want to record it so he does and it’s not like, a single or anything, but his producer says he knows DJs who would love to remix it. So he signs whatever papers they draw up and goes back home to smoke. He doesn’t let himself wonder if Lydia will hear it. He’s trying not to care.

Lydia is so good at her job. She’s meticulous in her observations and insightful with the kids and all her supervisors are so pleased and complimentary about her work. She takes the praise and wants more so she works even harder. Paul is worried but she promises she’ll take a break when the baby is born. Paul has stopped asking if she’s ok because he knows she’s not but it’s been 6 months and he knows she feels like she is supposed to be ok by now so he doesn’t want to make her feel bad. She stops going out with work colleagues. She sits in front of her gas fireplace and watches action movies and, when she’s had too much wine, checks his Instagram. He looks happy and relaxed. But she remembers his voice on the phone, the way he didn’t seem to want to stop talking to her. She thinks about calling him but she remembers her forbidden orgasm and decides it’s another in a series of bad ideas. She takes a long weekend in Nantucket and has the place to herself for the first time in her life. She swims laps in the indoor pool and sleeps in her grandmother’s bed and tries not to think about where he might be right now. Before she heads back to Vancouver, she takes his St. Christopher medal out of its hiding spot in Alice’s jewelry box next to her pearls where she left it when she was there for Christmas. She doesn’t wear it but she wants to keep it close. She doesn’t let herself think about why.

He thinks about her less and less, but it doesn’t necessarily get easier. He’s just. Adapting. He gets used to being alone. He guesses the weed and the music help. The time off sure fucking helps. Brian, and Teddy, and Geoff, and his family. They help. He’s finally kind of. Okay. Things don’t feel so fuzzy anymore, even when he’s high. The world is a little sharper again but it doesn’t sting like it used to. He decides to spend a day out of the condo. He wears a hat and sunglasses and goes to the Himalayan place he’s been avoiding, but he misses the croissants. He buys a box of them, then sticks around to have a cup of tea and munch on one while he reads a comic Brian showed him on his iPad. A fan notices him, but she’s older and calm when she approaches, and no one else is really paying attention, so he doesn’t mind letting her sit and chat for a minute. It’s nice. It’s normal. He hasn’t felt normal in months. The fan- Sheila- leaves, so he finishes his tea and his comic and tucks his box of croissants under his arm. He walks to his car slowly, deciding he doesn’t ever take enough time to admire the beautiful city around him.

Lydia has felt a little off all day. She can’t really explain it, but she feels like an animal before a thunderstorm. She’s on edge and testy. It’s Friday and she has one patient first thing in the morning and then pilates immediately after. She’s going to go back to her condo and do laundry and do some report write ups, order sushi and go to sleep early.

She’s on the way to pilates bouncing her head as she sings to the radio. She’s looking around at a stoplight because she’s still on high alert. She happens to look up above the stoplight and there he is.

It’s a new billboard downtown. Now that she’s not relieving stress in any other way, Lydia goes to pilates every day. She hasn’t noticed it. They must’ve put it up overnight. Her edginess feels like it makes sense now.

She stares at the billboard like it was put there to cause her pain. Her chest aches in a familiar way, in a way that has dulled over some months but never truly relieved her of itself. The pessimist in her thinks it never really will.

She stares at it until after the light is green and she’s being honked at. She slams on the gas and speeds to the pilates studio. She’s having trouble breathing and she’s sure it can be attributed to his continuing his Armani partnership and lying on his side shirtless to model a fucking watch on a massive billboard. It’s rude.

She misses her class because she can’t get herself inside. She thinks about calling him but she’s not sure what to say.

A dam breaks. She cries like she hasn’t in months and it’s then she comes to terms with something she’s known all along. No progress has been made in getting over him. She’s gotten better at bottling it up but apparently not that good because the bottle has just spilled everywhere.

She’s sobbing with her head on the steering wheel and it feels so much like 6 months ago it hurts to inhale. She broke his heart, she broke her own. For what? Did she think she’d stop loving him if she forced it? She remembers what Paloma said about it being worth it, the distance. She should’ve fucking listened.

Maybe she still can.

Lydia is fucking sick of trying to be strong for this. She’s sick of feeling like she’s fighting for something she doesn’t believe in. She’s sick of trying not to love him because fuck it, she loves him so fucking much, maybe more than she ever has because you really don’t know what you have until it’s gone. Cliches are cliches because they’re true.

Lydia goes straight to the airport. She buys a ticket for Toronto at the counter for the first time in her life and, another first, she’s sprinting onto the plane as it’s about to leave.

She has nothing. No change of clothes, no toothbrush, no phone charger. She doesn’t feel stupid until they’re halfway across the country and she realizes she’s not even sure if he’s home.

To try to calm herself down, she plugs in her headphones and listens to his music for the first time since last summer. She curls up in her seat and stares out the plane window, smiling at each new song that comes on, each old memory that comes with it.

Something she doesn’t recognize comes on Apple Music, startling her. She checks the description -- it’s a song called Fade. It was released recently. Her heart rattles. He released new music and she didn’t even know about it.

It’s not a happy song. He sings about fading and burning out and he sounds so fucking alone. It’s beautiful and haunting and, for almost four minutes, she gets a taste of the reality she left him with when she walked out the door. She excuses herself to the plane lavatory to cry until a stewardess knocks and asks if she’s ok.

She feels the stupidest of all when knocking on his condo door and realizing he’s definitely not home. She pulls out her old spare key and lets herself in. She looks at the couch where she broke up with him and decides to stand.

He stops at a record shop on the way home, just to peruse the offerings, see if there’s anything new. It feels nice to go out and not have a schedule, to really take his time to do whatever the heck he wants to do. He finds a few albums, even lets himself buy something he thinks Lydia would like, but he tells himself he won’t ever send it to her. She doesn’t want to hear from him, if her radio silence over the last few months is any indication. He’s not giving into her anymore, he decides. He won’t ever move on, won’t keep this streak of being okay until he can actually be happy if he keeps caving, keeps indulging the itch that begs him to scratch. He wants someone else to be his itch, someone who won’t tell him he’s not worth it. That’s what he deserves, isn’t it? He nods at the doorman when he reaches his building, even whistles as he walks through the lobby and rides the elevator. He whistles down the hallway, whistles while he unlocks the—

His door is unlocked already. He doesn’t remember leaving it open. It doesn’t look forced open, so he’s not worried it’s some crazy fan, probably just someone with a key. “G?” He calls as he swings through the door. He goes to his bedroom first, puts his records on the shelf with the others, then brings the box of croissants to the kitchen where he flips it open and pulls another out. “You want a croissant, dude? They’re from Himalayan. I actually managed to walk inside today. So I bought a whole fucking box of these things—“ He’s walking, balancing two croissants on a plate, not paying any attention to anything around him, so it’s not until small, pink Nike shoes appear in his line of sight that he realizes the person who let themselves in was absolutely not Geoff. He almost drops the plate. “Lydia?”

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#shawn mendes #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes fan fic #shawn mendes fanfiction #shawn mendes fan fiction #shawn peter raul mendes #shawn mendes fic #shawn mendes angst #shawn mendes rpf #shawn mendes roleplay

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queenslasharchive · 6 years ago

Text

Under the pale moonlight

For @ronniesshoes, hope you like it!

[—]

1972

Brian walks down the street swaying slightly under the waxing crescent moon. Once in a while the constant dizziness in his head it’s too strong for him and he has to stop and lean on something solid to stop himself from falling directly to the floor. After a couple of seconds, when he thinks it’s safe enough, he keeps walking. He feels how the warm wind caress his sweaty face, but sadly it’s not enough to fresh him up a little in this summer heated night. Even if he has all his black shirt opened except for the last two buttons, he still feels how his body could combust in any moment. He hates summer. The heat is too sweltering even it is five in the morning, his shorter curls sticking at the base of his head because of the sweat.

The night was supposed to consist in just a couple of pints with Tim, and it was. At first. Then, those couple of pints mysteriously transformed into more bottles of beer and then it ended with them going to a stranger’s party. Generally Brian it’s not a heavy drinker, sure, he enjoys some alcohol just like the guy next door, but when they reached that party he was constantly offered more alcohol and it was like his body answered for him and he just kept drinking until he saw the bottom of the glasses. It’s Saturday night so he doesn’t have to worry about going to work tomorrow, the only thing he should be worrying about it’s about the huge hangover he is going to have tomorrow, but he is too relaxed to care about that. He had felt like he deserved to go out this night and have some fun. When he looked the hour on the clock at the party it was already for in the morning and just then he he considered it was a good time to call it a night. Tim, who was just as drunk as him, or even worst, asked Brian if he could managed to go home by himself, to which the guitarist just made a vague gesture with his hand and left the house. He doesn’t have money for a taxi because he already spent all of it on the bar. It’s not like he needs one, he is lucky enough that his simple and small house it’s not that far away from the city. But being this dizzy, and with the poor motor skills his body has now, it’s taking more time that it would normally do. He keeps walking clumsily, watching the familiar houses with small gardens on its sides of his neighborhood. There’s not a single person on the street now -of course there isn’t because everyone is sleeping inside their houses- and he doesn’t hear the sound of any car passing by. The night is quiet, the only sounds he can hear are the yellow lights of the street lights that flashing continuously. Feeling that there is too much silence, he starts singing softly ‘Nights in White Satin’ by The Moody Blues, shaking rhythmically his head just a little, not enough to make the dizziness worst.

Still walking and singing he closes his eyes trying to absorb the tranquility of the night. It’s not even after five minutes that he collides into something big and soft, the hard impact of the crush making him wobble and land on the floor on his back. He blinks stupidly at the dark sky a couple of times, trying to understand what just happened because he can’t imagine with what he just collided. He doesn’t remember seeing any type of construction in progress on this sidewalk when he left his house to meet Tim. After many tries, and with the help of a street lamp, he gets on his feet again. When he opens his eyes and look forward, his eyes widen considerably. In front of him, just a few centimeters away, there’s a dog. But this dog is so tall Brian actually has to look a little up to make eye contact and not looking down like he would always do. Its body is huge, too big for a normal dog and its fur is a light brown tone, almost gold but Brian can’t really tell with the yellow lights above them. Brian drags his eyes all over the animal’s face and studies meticulously the features of its face. He is so close to it that he can feel the warm puffs of air coming from its snout crashing constantly against his face. The first thing that calls his attention is its big bright blue eyes, studying him intensely too. If he weren’t that drunk he could perfectly see his own reflection on those big eyes, as it they are mere mirrors. He notices how its body it’s tense and it looks ready to jump at any moment, waiting for Brian to do something. He can’t help but ask himself if the roles shouldn’t be the other way. He looks at its big ears and its large snout and its long whiskers, which remind him of the string of his beloved guitar.

He looks at those sharp eyes again that are still studying him and now they even looked a little narrowed, and his own body reacts without his permission. “Pretty.” he murmurs as he carefully pets the enormous head of the animal, his long fingers caressing the soft fur. His eyes, clouded by the alcohol in his system, widen in pure awe. “Oh, so soft…” he cooes. He keeps petting tenderly while the animal blinks a couple of times, clearly taken by surprise. His tense body slowly relaxing under the ministration of Brian’s fingers. “So pretty.” he giggles stupidly while petting it for the last time and that’s the last thing Brian May does that night before everything turns to black and he faints. [—] He greets the Sunday morning laying on the floor of his house, his body near the front door. He is laying face down and his head twisted in a painful way. It hurts, everything hurts and Brian doesn’t see the point of living suffering so much pain. It takes him five minutes since he woke up to try and make a move. He raises his head from the floor and feels how his neck protests after hours of being twisted like this, making him moan in pain and that makes his headache ten times worst. He carefully lays his forehead against the carpet and takes a deep breath.

Now he remembers why he is always so careful with the amount of alcohol he consumes. Fifteen minutes and multiple pauses later, he finally manages to get up and he shakily reclines against the front door, trying to calm down the sharp pain in his head. He curses himself internally because the bloody couch it’s less than half meter away from the door, has it been really hard for him last night that he couldn’t at least crawl a couple of steps more and faint on the couch? He feels his throat like sandpaper and marches towards the kitchen with slow steps, looking for water. He reeks of alcohol and cigarettes, the last one all thanks to the people present at that party. He really is in need of a shower but he needs some painkillers first. During his journey to the kitchen he doesn’t even turn around to look himself at the mirror hanged on the wall because the last thing he needs is a confirmation of his regrettable state he is now. After taking some painkillers to calm down the pain, Brian spends half of the day throwing up and the other half laying on his bed, trying to remember how he actually got home last night. The last thing he remembers clearly it’s had it call it a night, but after that he only has some sporadic moments that if you put them together they don’t make any sense. When the headache disappears a little, he picks up the phone from the bedside table and rings Tim, looking for some answers. With sadistic satisfaction, he notices his friend it’s not in better shape, he might be even worst than him. The only thing he gets from him it’s that Brian left the party by himself, insisting he could make it home by his own.

“And you believed me?” Brian mutters irritated, his deep voice coming out a bit raspy.

“I don’t know why are you complaining mate, at least you made it home. I woke up in a park without my pants and my wallet!” Tim grunts and Brian can’t help but snicker softly to such picture. After that awful weekend, his life goes back to normal. He makes the same routine every day like always, walks from his home to his job on the city. As usual, the streets are full with people coming and going, some of them bumping rudely with him. During those days he can’t help feeling a tingling at the base of his head and he feels like he is being watched, but he convince himself that it is due to be in an area full of people.

[—]

It been two weeks from that night and Brian allows himself to assist to a friend’s birthday party. Of course he doesn’t touch a single drop of alcohol this time, the memories of that night flashing through his head every time he sees a bottle making him feel already sick again. He stays completely sober the whole night, catching up with some people who think he recognizes until it’s one in the morning and he decides to leave the party. While he walks back home he feels the autumn making its presence in the now cooler winds. He raises his head up and sees the clear sky, looking how the few stars light his path with the help of the old street lights. He takes his keys out of his pocket and he is about to put it on the lock of his house when he hears something at his right. When he turns to find the source of that sound, the keys slide from his hand and they graceless land on the cold ground. Brian’s eyes widen considerably, terror and surprise are present in his hazel-colored orbs and he feels his mouth drops as well. He feels as hi lost control over his body and he can’t move a single muscle, an unpleasant feeling expanding through his whole body. His heart goes from suddenly stopping to beating way to fast. “Bloody hell…” Brian whispers to himself in disbelief. In the narrow space between his house and the fence, that leads to his small backyard, there is a, what at least he think it is, 6’5 tall wolf, big enough to make just a single jump and tear Brian apart with his huge jaw. He is not stupid, he knows better than turning his back and running away from a predator, even if said predator is impossibly bigger and taller than him. The beast, because that what it is, is illuminated but the old street lamps, the gold light giving its fur a warm look to his brown tone, its big blue brights eyes contrasting against the dark night behind it. Those hypnotics eyes are looking at him steadily. Brian doesn’t know how much time has passed, it feels like maybe it has been hours or just a few minutes. No one moves. Finally, the animals makes an uncertain step towards him, his paw big enough to scratch his whole face with just one strike. Instinctively, Brian steps backwards. Seeing this, it steps backwards too to its original place. While he brains desperately shouts no, Brian crouches, moving the most slowly possible and picks his keys from the floor, never breaking the eye contact with those big orbs. It follows him with its eyes but it doesn’t look like it has any intention of jumping over him, still, the guitarist doesn’t let his guard down. Still with slow movements, he puts the key inside the lock and gets to open the door. He practically throws himself inside his house, kicking the door from the floor to close it and locking it. Without even bothering looking through the window to make sure if the beast is still outside his house, he runs to his bedroom and he buries himself under the sheets, closing his eyes tightly. He feels like he is seven years old again, running away from his neighbor’s scary dog, all over again. His brains runs a mile per hour trying to find a rational explanation for what just happened but there is not a single possible theory for this.

It takes takes two hours before Brian finally falls asleep that night. [—] It’s like being a kid all over again, being scared of the unknown lurking in the shadows. Except that now he is a grown man and the unknown has been standing less than a meter away in front of him and on his own house. He tries to get home before the sun sets, which is getting harder everyday now that the winter is around the corner. He doesn’t go out to have a drink with friends or goes to see a if a new band gets lucky in a bar because those things always happen during the night. Not to even mention that now he has even more trouble sleeping at night that before, asking himself every night if that thing is prowling around his house. The feeling of being watched it’s still constant, but Brian blames his new paranoia, so he doesn’t focus too much on that. He doesn’t get to see the beast for a few days and he begins to think that maybe, somehow, it was a product of his imagination or maybe the stress of work he has over his shoulders. It doesn’t matter how real that night felt, it must be that. Everything goes back to normal. After dinner, Brian finds himself scattered on his couch, looking at some NASA documentary program on his TV. His eyelids begin to feel heavy and he knows he will fall asleep at any moment now but he doesn’t have the strength to crawl up to his bed. The soothing voice of the narrator on the TV isn’t helping at all on Brian trying to stay awake. He frowns slightly and ever so slowly he raises up his head when he hears a muffled sound coming from the kitchen. Still laying on the couch, he looks at the backdoor of the kitchen that leads to the backyard. He can hear soft scratches against the wooden door.

He remains still for a few seconds, hearing how they keep scratching the door. He prays internally for the sounds to be anything but exactly what he thinks it is. Quietly, he picks up the remote control from the floor and without taking off his eyes from the old door, he turns off the TV. “Stop it.” he pleads with a lump in his throat and blinks surprised when the noise actually stops. Something inside of him makes him keep talking. “Please, leave.” He swiftly sits up when after a few seconds of silence he can hear heavy thumps getting away from the door. Even with the walls separating him from the outside, he can follow the hollow sounds that go around his house to the front yard and finally disappearing. “This is not happening…” Sadly, that’s not the only time it happens. The scratches come back again a few days later and with more regularity, maybe three or four times a week. It always happens during the night and every time Brian asks it to stop and leave, the beast does listen to him and leaves his property with Brian left confused and surprised. Until one night it doesn’t obey him. Brian asks him with trembling voice, as usual, to stop ruining his door and to leave his house. When he hears the scratching stop he tries to get ready to bed when he hears pitiful wailing. His eyes widen completely and looks at the door in shock.

It almost sounds like a bloody hurt animal and Brian wants to die. It pains him physically hearing an animal whimpering in pain without being able to do something about it. He covers his ears trying to block the sound but he can’t because the sound is loud enough that can be listened in any place of his house and he briefly wonders if the neighbors can hear it too. His body betrays him and he almost ran to the door, opening it with a little more force than necessary.

“Please, just stop.” this time he orders with a stronger tone in his voice. To his surprise, the wolf is sitting on his hind legs, waiting for him. He stops wailing the moment he looks at Brian and he steps backwards a little, giving him space enough for him to get out of the house completely. The guitarist looks down at his door and sighs when he see it’s practically destroyed because of so many scratches. Gently he closes what it’s left of his door and walks towards the beast, standing away from it in a rational distance. If the wolf would want to hurt him it would have already done it without a problem the first time he saw it when he was back from the birthday party. He trembles slightly and he doesn’t know if it because of the cold of the night that goes through his thin long sleeve shirt or because of the intense gaze of the creature on him. It’s almost completely dark around him except for the light coming from the first quarter of moon and the stars above them, it’s enough natural light for him to be able to see the shape and the features of the animal.

“Hello…” he says because he honestly doesn’t know what else to say. He doesn’t expect to be answered but the awkward silence is killing him a little. The beast looks at him steadily and he decides that there are too much intelligence in those orbs for it to be a normal animal, even though that has been clear since the first night he saw it. It makes a tentative step towards Brian and then looks at him, waiting for him to go backwards like the last time, but Brian forces to stay still. It gives another step closer to him and when it sees that Brian doesn’t move back he tiptoes slowly towards him until they are face to face. He takes a deep breath in when he has it just a few centimeters away from his face and Brian can’t help but to study its features. It’s incredible, he thinks. He raises a shaky without breaking the eye contact and places it on the side of its gigantic skull, waiting with his heart on his throat. He feels like he is having a déjà vu when the wolf rubs its head gently against the palm of his hand. Feeling he has some kind of permission and feeling spontaneously brave, he moves his hand a little more. His fingertips travel all over its face, its snout and its ears that are almost as big as his palms, the fur soft to the touch. When his fingers touch its whiskers, he picks one with his thumb and index finger and can’t help but to tug slightly, getting a small annoyed grunt. “Sorry.” he whispers and laughs softly when it snorts a little, the warm air crashing against his face. Brian keeps with his inspection for a few seconds more, he doesn’t dare to go pass its face though. But he is more than happy with what just got to experimented. How many people could tell that they had the chance to even witness such creature, let alone touch it? A warm feeling washes him when he thinks he could be one of the group of the very few people, or even the only one. After a couple of minutes of petting the animal he lowers his hand, satisfied for now. “Thank you.” he feels the obligation to say it. Those big blue eyes that show too much intelligence shine with mirth, then it moves its head in what it looks like an attempted nod. It steps back a few centimeters from him and starts jogging out of the back yard, probably leaving his property too. He stands still on the same spot looking at the grass on the floor, trying to comprehend what just happened. After a couple of minutes he goes back into his house a smile on his face because that has been extraordinary.

[—] The wolf comes to visit a few times during the week, always at night. Brian knows its waiting at his back door when he hears the scratches in the wooden door, so he goes out and and greets it. They spent every visit studying each other and Brian takes advantage of these visits to pet him. Sometimes just to fill the silence of the night, he talks to it about his day at work or something about him. Another times he sits on his old reclining chair that he has on the backyard and starts talking to it about the starts that are lighting up the sky above them, pointing at them as he speaks. The beast lies down beside him on the grass and listens carefully, sometimes putting his massive head on Brian’s stretched out legs. “I know you can understand me…” Brian starts one night he is sitting on the grass cross-legged and the animal is laying down with his head on its long legs in front of him. “There are so many questions I want to ask you… Why can you understand me? Why do you keep coming back to my house? Why do you spend the night with me? Do you have a name? What are you?” It blinks a couple of times and huffs heavily. It rolls to lay on its side and Brian doesn’t know what impulse him but he lays beside it. He trembles when the cold of the night brushes him and the wolf comes closer to him. Being that close of its body it’s like being wrapped in five blankets and stand right next to an stove at the same time, the warm impossible inhuman. Without even realizing he closes his eyes for a few seconds enjoying the nice warm that the wolf irradiates, relaxing every muscle of his body and finally, he gives up and falls asleep. [—] When he wakes up he discovers that instead of waking up in his backyard he is laying on his bed, wrapped in the familiar sheets. The blinding light of the new morning coming through the window bathing the whole room and making him blink a couple of times to adjust his eyes.

He really has to stop falling asleep in some place and waking up in other. He freezes when he sees another body lying next to him on his small bed. If he has to guess he would say that this guy is the same age as him, sleeping face down and facing him. He has long light brown hair that goes a little down his shoulders and framing his delicate, almost feminine, face. His closed eyelids have long and think eyelashes that they contrast with his tanned and immaculate skin. He also has a pair of full and pink lips that are a slightly opened. His body is covered by his sheet only from his waist down and he briefly wonders if the guy laying next to him is actually naked. He barely gets to reach his hand out a few centimeters when the stranger suddenly open his eyes. And it’s just in that moment that everything makes sense. He slowly lowers his hand while looking directly to those blue eyes he has been seeing during the the last months. To his surprise, the silence in the room it’s not awkward. “Hello?” Brian whispers without moving a single muscle. The blond settles until he is lying on his side just like him. “Roger.” his voice is deep and raspy, Brian doesn’t know if it’s because he just woke up or if that’s how his voice normally sounds. “Uh?” he says clumsily and his eyes betray him when they go to one of the corner of his mouth that raises slightly.

“You wanted to know my name… My name is Roger.” he clarifies, eyes filled with mischief. “Roger Taylor.” “Oh.” his eyebrows raise and he can’t help but smile a little. “Hello Roger, my name is Brian, Brian May.�� Roger fully smiles now and that smile it’s almost as blinding as the light in the room, Brian thinks. “I know.” he answers cheekily and he snickers when Brian playfully glares at him, The peaceful moment is ruined when the blond’s stomach growls a little, his cheeks blushing a little. “Sorry.” he murmurs but Brian keeps smiling. “Would you like something to eat?” he asks and starts leaving the bed when Roger nods lightly, sitting up in the bed with the sheets pooling around him. “Can you borrow me some clothes? I didn’t expect to spend the night here so I didn’t exactly bring a spare set of clothes with me.” he smirks and that confirms Brian’s theory that he’s naked under the sheets. “Sure.” he babbles and trows him a pair of gray sweats and a black t-shirt. They are obviously a little big for his thin frame but it’s better than nothing. “I will start making breakfast.” he tells him before he leaves his bedroom. Once Roger has changed into his clothes and sat on at the kitchen table, Brian serves him his breakfast. The blond practically devours it, clearly hungry. “It’s good?” he asks amused and smiles a little when the blond nods eagerly. “It’s amazing.” he promises happily. He swallows before he speaks again. “So… you want me to answers you some questions?” “Yeah…” he answers while taking a sip of his tea. “Well, first of all, the most important thing I guess. When I met you, you were drunk as hell.” he laughs, completely amused. “Seriously, who the fuck walks alone, and drunk, in the middle of the night? You don’t know how dangerous that is?” there is a mischievous glint in his blue eyes. Brian rubs his eyes hard with his hands. “It was only that night, I don’t usually drink that much or I’m that reckless…” he starts but Roger cuts him. “You called me pretty…” he bites his bottom lip, maybe to stop himself from smiling. “What?” Brian blinks, owlishly. “You pet my head and called me pretty.” he is fully smiling now, clearly enjoying Brian’s embarrassment. “I like all animals in general, I think they are all pretty.” he defends himself in a flat tone. “Uh-huh.” Roger says amused, obviously not believing any of his words. “S-Shut up. Besides, what were you doing there, uh? Don’t you think someone would have noticed a giant wolf in the middle of the bloody street?” he asks. “Mind you, I was well hidden before you saw me and I didn’t hear anyone near by besides us… But then I heard you sang and I had to follow your voice…” the intensity in his gaze tells him that there is something more in those simple words, but he doesn’t dare to ask about that yet. “You have a nice voice mate, do you sing?” “Sometimes.” he shrugs casually. “You play the guitar and sing. Nice…” he nods absently a couple of times, his mind clearly in other place. “I play the drums, you know? Me and my mates, we kind of want to start a band but we are missing a guitarist. If you are interested…” “Are your friends…?” he is not sure how to complete the sentence, but he doesn’t need to because the blond understands. “Yeah, they are. Oh, actually, they want to meet you.” he almost sounds like he suddenly remembers something important. “Uh? You told them about me?” he blinks, taken by surprise. “No, actually… they figured it out for themselves…” he admits looking down at his now empty plate. “How?” Brian frowns, confused. “They smell you on me…” he murmurs. “At first they suspected something but they were polite enough to not comment anything. I liked it that way, it was like my little secret… But after a couple of days they start asking what was that constant smell on me or where I was going out all the time in the middle of the night. You think hiding something from your roommates can be hard? You go and try to hide something from someone who has all their senses heightened and they can practically read you like a book!” he glares at him accusingly. “Woah, woah, it’s okay!” he raises his palms up, shocked by the sudden change of attitude. “And what do I smell like?” he asks, his curiosity getting the better of him “Old books, and wet earth, and that tea…” he confesses, nodding with his head to his half empty tea cup. He smiles lightly, eyes looking down again. “It’s quite nice.”

“About the band…" Brian starts suddenly. “I would like to give it a try.” he admits. “But first I would like to get to know you better.” “You already know me.” he frowns, clearly confused. “And I know almost everything about you by now.” “No, I know the wolf that likes to come to my back yard and listen to me talk. I don’t know anything about you.” he explains and the blond blinks a couple of times. “Oh well, I guess we should fix that, don’t you think?” he smiles. “I would have like if we did this the other way, you know? I meet you first like this,” he says, making a casual gesture between them with his hands. “and then, if I feel like I can trust you enough, I would have tell you my secret. But we did it the complicated way first, didn’t we…?” “I believe so.” he agrees, amused. “Are you busy today?” “No, not really.” he admits and he has never been more grateful for Sundays. “Let’s go for a walk and then you can ask my anything you want.” he stands up and blinks. “Oh, if you could borrow me a pair of shoes too that would be great.” he laughs. Brian scoffs. [—] He feels a little weird going out with Roger in plain day light and he feels even weirder having a conversation with him when Brian is not the only one participating in the conversation. But that’s just at first, then the weird feeling fades the more he talks with the blond. Its clear that Roger Taylor is someone who likes to be listened, Brian decides while he listens to him speak about his hometown. Brian can’t help but wonder how frustrated it would have been for Roger being in a conversation where the only thing he could do was listening and couldn’t talk back. He notices by the corner of his eye how the people around them throw weird look at both of them and he can’t blame them. The blond is only wearing a T-shirt -his T-shirt- a pair of sweats and a pair of shoes, while the rest of the people, including Brian, are wrapped up till their noses, trying to protect themselves from the cold winter. “Aren’t you cold?” he can’t help to touch Roger’s skin and is shocked to feel that his skin is boiling, as if he has fever. “Nah, the perks of being whatever the hell I am now, you are a human furnace all the time.” he shrugs casually. ”You should remember, you fall sleep almost sprawled on me last night.“ he smirks softly. “Well yes, but I didn’t think it would still be like that when your… you.” They spent the rest of the day walking without actually going anywhere in particular. Brian listens to the blond talk and can’t help but notice that his voice is softer now and not raspy and deep like the first time he heard it that same morning. “I would like to hang out with you again, Brian.” Roger tells him when the sky is getting darker. “I mean, like this, where I can talk with you.” he laughs. “And I really would like for you to meet my friends. We live in a small department around here.” “Sure, I would like that.” he smiles honestly. Although the blond knows where to find him, they exchange phone numbers so they can arrange their next meeting. They say goodbye to each other and Brian starts walking back home while the blond walks the other way. [—] They go out a couple of times after their first time. They almost consist in Roger picking up Brian from his job and walking him to his house and chatting. Finally, after a couple of weeks they set a day so Brian can come to his flat and have dinner with his friends. “Ready?” Roger asks while they are going up the stairs to the third floor. When Brian nods, the blond adds a little unsure. “I just want you to know, they can be a little… intense, sometimes. But they are good people.” he promises quietly, almost in a whisper. When they are a few steps away from the door he opens his mouth to answer the blond but a shout from the inside of the flat stops him. “Darling, Roger and his boyfriend are already here!” a man’s voice shouts and Brian slightly blushes. “Oh for fuck’s sake…” Roger grunts, opening the door and stepping inside the apartment. “Could you yell any louder? I don’t think the old woman downstairs heard you… And he’s not my boyfriend, he is my friend.” he clarifies closing the door. When Brian enters he is received by other two guys. One of them has long brown hair, almost a little longer than Roger and a shy smile on his face. The other one has deep brown eyes and long jet black hair shorter than the other two and looks amused beyond believe. “I don’t know you, dear, but the other day you came back home wearing only his clothes.” snickers softly and then he turns around and concentrates completely on May. “Hello Brian.” he smiles politely, shaking his hand. “I’m Freddie, and this is John.” he points to the younger lad. “Hi.” the smaller brunette man greets, imitating his friend. “Nice to meet you both.” he smiles. “The dinner is almost ready… I think.” John says shrugging a little unsure. “We are not really good cooks, we usually prefer takes out… I honestly don’t know how we are still alive.” he admits with a little smile and Brian can’t decide if he is joking or if he’s actually serious. “I can give you a hand with that.” Brian offers shyly. “If you don’t mind.” “Handsome, sings, knows how to play the guitar and can cook… Roger, if you are stupid enough not to catch him, I will.” Freddie jokes and laughs amused when Roger actually growls at him. “Shut up, Fred.” he warns. It’s only then that Brian remembers about his clothes and that Roger never returned to him. Somehow finds himself not caring about that, picturing the blond wearing his clothes around the house. With the help of a extra pair of hands, John manages to finish the dinner and they decide to eat the dinner in the living room, sitting on the couches. “So, Brian,” Freddie starts eagerly and Roger tenses up. “how did you and Roger meet? He didn’t want to tell us about that and I think we were lucky enough to know your name and a few other little things about you…” “Uhm…” he looks at the blond, who merely shrugs. “I was coming back home from a party one night and I was pretty drunk and I… ran into him while he was a wolf…” he tells lamely because honestly, how do you tell this kind of story? There is a sudden silence in the room and when Brian looks up he only receives an unimpressed look from Freddie. “Just like in any romance movie.” John jokes with a little smile and the blond huffs. The conversation flows more naturally from there. They talk mostly about the basic things about them and Brian returns the favor, telling him about his work and little details of his life. He can not help but notice how John practically leans slightly against Freddie’s shoulder while Roger, sitting on the floor, rests his head on John’s leg that is stretched out behind him in the free space of the couch. He compares the image in front of him with the picture of a pack of real wolves, one on top of the other. He findes the scene a little cute. “Roger mentioned that you play the guitar and that you are pretty good.” John brings back to reality, looking directly to his eyes and he notice how green they are from his own seat on the single armchair. “He did?” Brian can’t help but feeling something funny on his stomach. “You have no idea, dear…” Freddie snorts softly and he effortless ducks to avoid getting hit by a pillow that Roger throws aggressively at him. “I’m sure Roger already told you but, if you are interested, we could meet and give it a try. What do you think?” “That would be lovely.” he agrees. When the nights ends, Brian decides he likes John and Freddie and he easily sees himself spending more time with them. “It was nice meeting you two.” Brian says, getting ready to head home. “But I should get going, it’s pretty late for me.” “Sure.” John says and Brian is surprised when the shorter man gives him a quick hug, resting his forehead on his shoulder for just a second. “It was nice meeting you too.” “It was, darling.” Freddie gives him a hug too. “I’m looking forward to our first rehearsal together.” he winks when he lets him go. “Can I walk you home?” the blond asks. “You don’t have to.” he frowns lightly, putting on his coat. “I know, but I want to.” he shrugs like it the most natural thing and maybe it is after all the times they had done this. “Oh, okay.” “If you decide to spend the night at his place again can you at least call us this time?” Freddie asks slightly exasperated. “Sure thing mum!” he says in a fake cheerful tone. “I hope Dad gives it to you good tonight so you don’t have to worry about me.” he adds still using that tone while pushing Brian to the door. “You little-” he starts but it’s cut by John’s stern voice. “Don’t speak to your mother like that, young man.” he warns just to add more gasoline to the fire and Brian laughs when the blond sticks his tongue out at him. Oh yeah, he definitely likes them. [—] They are walking slowly, taking their time. The dark sky covered with multiple stars and the waxing gibbous moon above them, the streets of his neighborhood almost empty except for some people and a few cars that are going and coming. When he had looked at Roger’s big cream fur coat with suspicion the blond only shrugged and answered that he likes the way he looks with it on, even if he doesn’t need it. It does look good on him, Brian has to admit it. “I liked your friends Rog.” Brian feels like he needs to tell him and the blond lets out a relieved sigh. “I’m glad to hear that. They are like my brothers, you know?” he murmurs looking at him, his blue shining under the pale moon light. “They are a big part of my life.” Brian hums, thinking he understand. The wind blows hard, the cold getting inside his clothes and caressing his whole body making him shiver noticeably. Without asking, Roger presses himself closer to his tall frame and he can’t help but sigh in relieve because the blond really is like a human oven. With the only intention on getting warmer he wraps one of his long arms around the blond and presses him even closer to him. “Roger?” he starts a little unsure because this is the question he has wanted to ask for a long time but he felt that there was still not enough trust between the two of them to do it. “What happened to you? How did you ended up being… like this?” He feels him fidgeting under his arm and getting even closer to him. “It didn’t happen so long ago, I think it was almost… only two years ago? I was having fun and drinking with a couple of friends around a bonfire in the middle of a forest, near my house back at my hometown. We were just talking and laughing when a bloody wolf came out of nowhere. Of course we didn’t think it twice and everyone started run to different directions and I had the bad luck that the fucking thing decided to follow me…” he shivers and Brian knows it isn’t because of the cold. “Everything happened too fast, it didn’t took it too long to catch me and bit me in the leg. I remember I kicked it in the face hard enough to make it let me go. It just stood there, watching me and growling at me for a couple of seconds and when I thought he was going to bite me again and for good, he just ran into the woods again.” he shrugs. “When I met Freddie and told him my story, he explained to me that because I was bitten during a night with full moon the fucking bastard give me this shit to me… if this would have happen any other night it would have been another nasty regular scar… I still don’t know why it didn’t just kill me…” “What is… what is the difference between any regular night and a night with a full moon?” he asks softly. “On nights with full moons we stop being ourselves and we become into animals outside and inside, as if your rational side just shut down… The closer the full moon approaches, the less humans we are… When that happens we travel a day before to a farm outside the city and then we come back when it’s all over.” Roger smiles a little, looking at him. "That’s why I never came to visit you during the nights with full moon, I didn’t want anything bad happening to you.”

After a few seconds the blond tilts his head up and whispers into his ear.

“Though I have no doubts that you would be a big beautiful black poodle.” he giggles and Brian pinches his cheek with his thumb and index finger. “Hilarious.” he says flatly, but internally enjoying the sound of the blond’s laugh. After a couple of minutes they arrived Brian’s house. The blond, still under Brian’s arm, turns to look directly at the guitarist’s eyes. His usually sky blue eyes are now an almost dark navy blue and May doesn’t find the willpower to look away from them. “Brian, I don’t think you understand the effect you have in me.” he cups his face in his warm hand and Brian finds himself shivering again even though this time he doesn’t know the exact reason. “Roger…” he whispers in awe and a little scared of how powerless he feels right now. His hazel eyes travel to those full lips and unconsciously he licks his own. “Can I kiss you?” The blond presses his lips against his brusquely and Brian feels an electric current running through his entire body, from their locked lips to the sole of his feet, making him groan a little. His long arms wrap themselves around the thin waist bringing him closer to his body almost as if he wants their bodies to become one. The sensation of his soft lips makes his whole body vibrate a little and small sparks of pleasure pop in every cell on his body. He moans softly when the blond slightly pulls his dark curls and he moans louder when the blond growls against his lips, obviously taking pleasure in the sounds he is stealing from him.

Brian feels like there’s not enough air coming to his lungs and he starts to feel a little dizzy. He pushes the blond gently by the hips so he can breath again but Roger doesn’t let him go and actually growls against his lips again, this time as a warning.

He doesn’t have other choice but to bite down on the blond’s bottom lip a little harder than it would be considered pleasurable, just enough to make Roger let go of him a little. When he gets to free his lips he is trying to get some air back on his lungs while Roger, still with his eyes closed, licks his own lips obscenely, his hands still buried deep in the mess of curls that Brian’s hair consist in. “Oh yes, I’m definitely going to keep you.” the blond decides in a deep voice. He opens his big eyes, pupils blown with a thin dark blue ring around them and Brian can’t help but moan. “Let’s go inside.” Brian almost pleas, touching his forehead with his own, and the blond smiles, pleased. “Yeah, let’s go inside.” he agrees. He takes Brian’s hand and starts marching towards the house, the guitarist following him eagerly, both leaving behind their only witness, the big moon hanging up in the sky.

#maylor #fic #submission #relationship: get together #fluff #roger: werewolf #magic au #au #secret santa gifts #pre fame #brian: drunk #brian: hungover

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thefandomimaginessblog-blog · 7 years ago

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Malibu and wine coolers 2/2

first part

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x reader

Warnings: underage drinking

Word count: 1,270

A/N: Hey guys! I hope you like the final part of malibu and wine coolers. There will be more imagines coming your way in the near future. xx (I realized just now that heaven is a place on earth came out in the late 1980s, sorry about that!)

Songs to listen to: Heaven is a place on earth by Belinda Carlisle, Comfortably nymb by Pink Floyd

I chucked down my second drink and threw it on the back seat. A Van Halen song was loudly playing from the speakers as me and Billy mimicked the guitar solo, me occasionally bumping him with my fret hand. We had driven for a good 15 minutes but there was still maybe ten miles untill we reached our spot. Billy drummed the steering wheel as I finished off the solo with my imaginary guitar.

The song began to near it’s end as we headbanged the last bits, both of our hair getting static from the dry air. Some hair metal song began to play yet again and i rolled my eyes. ” Okay, enough of that, i’m gonna change the channel.” I dove for the radio before he could react and pressed the ”next” button a few times, before I heard the beginning of a familiar song. I quickly grapped a full bottle of strawberry wine cooler, turned my head towards Billy and started to sing into my makeshift microphone,

”Ooh, baby, do you know what that’s worth?

Ooh heaven is a place on earth

They say in heaven love comes first

We’ll make heaven a place on earth”

He rolled his eyes playfully, pretending he was annoyed, but soon started to laugh at my frenzy. I started laughing too as the car slowed down at a red light and it casted a soft red glow on our faces.

”When the night falls down

I wait for you

And you come around”

To say I was surprised when I heard Billy yell out the lyrics with me, would be an understaitment. I stared at him in a daze, but quickly got over myself and started to belt out the lyrics with him. There was nobody in sight, so he pressed the gas and we flew past the stoplights.

We drove for a few minutes, the song changing, before turning into a little path leading into te woods. I squinted my eyes at the darkness and lowered the volume of the radio. Billy slowed down and gave me a look, raising his hand to turn the volume back up ” It’s dark” I stated and stopped his hand with mine. ”We have to see where we’re going. I don’t want my last drink to be your cheap wine coolers.” I gave him a little smirk and watched him lower his eyes. Frowning, I followed his gaze and saw my hand still on top of his. ”sorry…” I muttered as i pulled my hand away, a bright blush rising on my cheeks. After a while I turned my head towards him and saw a soft blush on his cheeks too, with a smile tugging on his lips.

We sat down few meters before the cliffs edge, staring at the empty city, with cars occasionally driving somewhere. He sat with his legs sprawled in front of him and searched his pockets, probably for a packet of cigarettes and a lighter.

”Why weren’t you at school today?” I asked him and watched him light the smoke and placing the pack on the grass. He took a long drag and I took a swing from the bottle of malibu.

He was silent for a moment, I picked up the pack and started to fiddle with it, slowly swinging at the beat of comfortably numb softly playing from the car radio.

”Well, you know, school’s gonna end soon and I don’t really care…” His voice was unusually small ”It’s not like I know what to do after”

I slowly closed my heavy eyes and laid down on the grass. ”I know you’re lying,” I turned my head and watched him lay down as well. ”but it’s okay” He turned to look at me, His eyes shifting. ”You know we’re best friends, right? ” He chuckled and took a last drag of the smoke before throwing the butt down the cliff. ”I’m your best friend. You don’t have to tell me now if somethings bothering you, but just know I’m here whenever you want to tell someone,” I rambled and took a few seconds to breathe ”And i get that you want to be all manly and the tough guy, but it’s just that if you want to let it out sometime, I’ll be here” I finished and closed my eyes, already feeling drowsy from the alcohol.

”I appreciate it, best friend, really, but please, do not threaten my masculinity” He playfully laughed. I smirked at him, still keeping my eyes closed and feeling the thoughts around my head turn to fog and finally dozing off.

”Ooh baby, do you know what that’s worth,”

I opened my eyes slowly and was met with the soft rays of the sun slowly peaking from behind the horizon. ”Ooh heaven is a place on earth.” I turned my head and laid my eyes on the same spot where Billy had been before I had fallen asleep. He was still there, now sitting up with, yet again, another cigarette softly glowing on his lips. I slowly propped myself up and leaned on my elbows, listening to his soft hums. A smile tugged on my lips as I watched him fiddle with his necklace, his eyes traveling in the grass before landing to meet mine. We stared at each other for what felt like hours, until he turned his head slowly towards the sunrise, the golden rays lighting up his face and making me see the soft blush on his cheeks.

”I think I’m gonna say something crazy” I whispered as I lifted myself from the ground and sat cross-legged across from him. He slowly turned his head towards me, eyes still fixated on the sunrise.

”hm?”

”I think,” I closed my eyes, afraid of his reaction.

”I think I love you”

silence

oh shit, I thought, oh shit, fuck, I ruined it didn’t I?

I slowly opened my eyes, and was shocked to see Billy’s face millimeters from mine.

”That’s crazy” He said softly, just above a whisper. I felt him take my hand and intertwine our fingers as he neared even closer. ”You’re crazy” He muttered.

He tilted his head and leaned in, his lips hovering on top of mine, before softly pressing against them. It took me a few seconds to realize what was going on, but as the butterflies in my stomach came free, it ended. I opened my eyes and was met with Billy searching my eyes for something, his hair golden from the raising sun. I tugged him closer by his hand and with no hesitation, pulled his lips back on mine, kissing him with adoration. The kiss was soft and gentle, but at the same time held so much emotion. His lips tasted like cheap liquor and cigarette smoke, and the wind blew his hair all over me, but I didn’t care. All I could think about was him, and the feeling of his lips pressed against mine, and the way he held my hand in his.

It felt like we sat there for hours, the sun rising behind us, dark forests on the other side. A chilly morning and a dewy grass, It felt like we were in a movie. We kissed and kissed and kissed, untill we ran out of breath.

At some point we picked ourself up from the ground and walked to the car with hands still intertwined. We pulled away from the forests and back on the main road, and we kissed at every stop sign and every red light.

That day he drove me home with swollen lips and a permanent smile on my face.

#stranger things #billy hargrove #billy hargrove imagine #stranger things imagine #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #billy hargrove fanfiction #malibu and wine coolers

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itaysimmer · 7 years ago

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The get to know me thing...

I was tagged by @humblydefiant to this and it’s my first time doing something like this on Tumblr.. so hi!

rules: tag ten followers you want to know better!

name: Itay gender: Male star sign: Aquarius height: 1.74 meters

put your itunes on shuffle. what are the first 6 songs that popped up?

I don’t have itunes… so nothing I guess? and I normally hear random songs anyway so IDK what to say XD

grab the book nearest you and turn to page 23. what’s line 17? “

It would be foolish to throw away someone as valuable as either Murtog or Sechel without concrete proof,” Scourge replied. “But I would like the chance to interrogate both of them.” It’s from a Star Wars book if anyone wants to know…

ever had a poem or song written about you?

Not really… I had a poem that was written for me… (IDK if it’s the same thing but whatever)

when was the last time you played air guitar?

Never did it… I didn’t even get to play my normal guitar before it got broken.

who is your celebrity crush?

Too many of them! they are mostly actors… one of them is Chris Pratt. XD

what’s a sound you hate; sound you love?

Hate: Anything that has to do with building… drills, hammers and so on…

Love: Animals sounds! dogs, birds, cats, horses and etc… I love to hear animals around me.

you believe in ghosts? how about aliens?

About ghosts IDK what to say… I mean I do believe there is something after death, I just don’t think about too much… and about aliens��yes.. it’s a big galaxy so who knows what’s out there.

do you drive? if so, have you ever crashed?

I don’t have a driver’s license, so I can’t drive.

what was the last book you read?

I don’t read many books… but the last one I read was the one from the other question and it’s called “Star Wars: The Old Republic- Revan”.

do you like the smell of gasoline?

No, Why would I?

what was the last movie you saw?

“Captain America: Civil War”- My ex-boyfriend insisted that I need to watch it so I watched all the 3 Captin America movies…

what’s the worst injury you’ve ever had?

When I was like 4 years old I fell down the stairs in my grandmother’s house and I broke my collarbone…

do you have any obsessions right now?

Ummm yes.. not gonna tell what they are thou XD

Do you tend to hold grudges against people who have done you wrong?

I’m trying not to do that… I do remember things, bad and good. and I’m a forgiving person but some things I just can’t ignore or forgive about…

in a relationship? Single, broke up with my boyfriend about 3 weeks ago.

I don’t really have anyone to tag so I’m just gonna tag @dipsykoo @gaytrashidoltrash @omegastation and @shepard-kaidan You don’t have to do it but I will be glad to know you better :) also anyone else who runs across this and wants to do this you are welcome too :)

#get to know me!#sorry i didn't bold the questions.. i don't know how to do it :\

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rambles-n-tumbles · 7 years ago

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Illness

Pairing: Kim Seokjin/Jung Hoseok

Genre: Angst, Character Death

Word Count: 1,636

Summary: Spring comes in, but only after Winter leaves. And even then, it's never easy to say goodbye.

Author’s Note: okay so out of all of these that i’ll post this is probably top 3 in faves and also sad-o-meter so warning! i might make you cry a bit!

The spring season had just begun spreading, trees blooming with life as flowers peered up from grassy corners to greet passersby. While the sun was peeking from behind clouds, the breeze was still scented with winter as Jin tugged his hat lower and scarf higher, nothing but deep brown eyes showing themselves to the world as he walked by. Normally, he would squeeze through people rushing through crowded streets, but today he took a less scenic route.

The one with more scenes that would only replay in Jin’s mind at 2 am when the darkness tried to get him.

When he realized there was no one who could save him from himself.

Kicking stones as he passed them, Jin let the wind push him along the narrow street, the breeze bearing the scent of roses and coffee as they reached Jin. As he got closer, the knot in his chest grew larger, the weight in his shoulders firmer, but still he let his feet lead him closer.

“Seokjinnie, this is the best place you’ll ever find in Korea!” Grinning eyes shined up at Jin as he let their hands intertwine.

“I don’t know, Hoseokie, I think I already found the best place in your eyes.”

The woman at the counter smiled, nodding at Jin as he grabbed a box of cookies from the counter, slipping her his card as he fidgeted with the sticker on the container. The woman wordlessly swiped his card, ripping the receipt and passing it to Jin as he nodded, pocketing them both before exiting the small shop.

The street bore a different scent as Jin clutched the box of cookies closer to him, realizing the scent was coffee of a specific taste. A taste only one palette he knew would adore.

“Jinnie, why don’t we stop here? The house roast is fantastic, I know you’ll love it!” Dimples poked in either of his cheeks, a giggle erupting from within his chest.

“Hoseokie, I don’t really think-” But arguments were for losers as Jin was pulled into the cafe, and seated at a booth before the brunette could respond.

“Excuse me! Hi, we’ll take two of the house coffees. To stay, ma’am! Oh, and could you throw in-”

“One raspberry tart please, with the drizzle on top.” Jin stood, inhaling the thick aroma of coffee brewing, and could faintly hear a guitar being strum over the speakers, but the thoughts in his mind numbed him far too much for him to notice. As the woman placed two cups of coffee and a small bag on the counter, Jin offered her his card only to have the woman refuse.

“It’s a ‘pay it forward’ thing we’re trying out. Your order is covered.” Jin offered the woman a small smile instead, thanking her as a laugh rung in his head.

“Seokjin, you gotta share the love that’s given to you. You can’t just be selfish about it, there are too many bad people out there to do so. You gotta be the one to smile and help out someone who can’t.”

“Gotta be the one to smile when it’s too hard for them to.” Jin sighed, slipping the cookies into the bag with the enclosed pastry, the coffee in a brown cup holder as he let the warmth flow through him. He wouldn’t drink yet, he could never start lunch alone.

As Jin reached the end of the narrow street, people began merging with him. Women pushing babies in strollers passed by as men held their scarfs tighter around their necks in fear of the prickling stubborn breeze of winter. Jin merely let his breath merge with the air around him, letting his feet take him where he was meant to go.

“Seokjin, don’t you love the coming of Spring?” Three steps ahead, he bent down to tap a blossoming rose as Jin rubbed his nose.

“It’s great, Hobi. My allergies adore spring.” Laughter rung around the two, the grinning brunette throwing his arms around Jin’s waist, pressing a kiss to his nose.

“Okay, so allergies suck, but! At least it’s warm again.”

“When will it get warm again, Hobi?” Jin greeted the woman at the front desk, a stiff smile on her face as Jin passed her by. He used to care about the whispers behind him as he passed through the lobby, but eventually, they faded into nothing.

Isn’t he tired of coming every day?

Do you think he knows the truth?

Poor man, he’s so attractive too.

What a waste.

Pushing the button on the elevator, Jin waited patiently, letting the doors slide open completely before stepping inside, pressing the button that would take him up three floors. As the doors slid closed, Jin tried to ignore the pang his chest felt as he lost count of the times he had been here before.

“Jinnie, please don’t leave me.” Eyes sparkled, tears threatening to fall but refusing to surrender as Jin pressed the smaller male to his chest.

“I would never leave you, Hoseokie. I love you, I promise I’m staying right here.” The gasping became shallower, Jin feeling his heart drop as he screamed until he felt his throat bleed.

“Somebody help him! Save him, please god someone save him! Get an ambulance, someone get help!”

Jin stepped out of the elevator, the pale white lights that used to bother him now welcoming him as he turned down the hallway he knew by heart, forced to memorize.

The doctor would sometimes walk in, Jin recalls them speaking to him about options, but Jin never did grasp what they said. He just knew that as long as he kept coming back, as long as there was still a pulse to regulate, they would keep him there. They had to keep him here.

Pushing open the door, Jin made sure not to make any noise, setting down the coffee cups and bag of sweets down on the small table beside the bed, a quiet beeping welcoming him back to where he spent most of his days. Pressing a kiss to a warm forehead, Jin sat down on the edge of the bed, taking a hand into his own.

“Hi, Hoseok. I brought you lunch. It’s your favorite, the house roast with a raspberry tart.” Jin hesitated, the silence giving him the answer he hated as he inhaled, continuing.

“You know, they’re still doing that ‘pass it forward’ at the cafe? It’s nice, to know that people want to make a difference. You would like it, we can go visit and put some cash in for the next guests when you wake up.” Jin felt his throat tighten, the words ‘wake up’ adding ten pounds to his chest. The hand in his clenched slightly, letting him know that his words were heard, that he wasn’t speaking to nothing. Smiling, Jin caught his breath and carried on.

“Well, it’s also the first day of spring. The blossoms will start to appear soon, and you can’t miss that festival, right?” Jin wanted to ignore the passing of time, but it was becoming too evident to ignore. Too big a presence to pretend it was made up.

“Hoseokie, it’s been 8 months. You gotta wake up now, okay?” The beeping continued, the air thickening in the room as Jin pretended he wasn’t crying, the tears weren’t cascading down his rounded cheeks.

“You gotta wake up so we can go to the little chapel on the hill and say ‘I do’ and invite all our friends to watch us be happy. You gotta move so we can laugh over ice cream and terrible jokes. You gotta open your eyes so I can see the shine in them once more..” Jin clamped a hand over his mouth, the sobs uncontrollable as he felt the last bits of his heart tumble towards the floor. The beeping was quieter, or maybe his sobs were louder, Jin couldn’t tell as the nurses rushed inside, begging him to make room for them.

“Hoseokie, you have to wake up so we can leave. You have to, please please just get up. Get up and smile for me, Hoseokie.” Jin held his hand as the doctors pushed inside, as the nurses called for machines and medications, as someone tried to pull him away but he shook his head. Jin stood there with his hand intertwined in Hoseok’s as he saw the faintest smile appear on his lover’s face. The faintest tear slipping down his cheek as the hand in Jin’s went limp. The faintest thud as Jin’s entire world shattered around him, the pain as deafening as his cries.

"Seokjinnie, even the best of things end." A smile.

"Yes, Hoseokie. But my love for you never will." A kiss.

It wasn’t the first day of spring.

It was the last day of winter.

#bts #bts fanfiction #bts fanfic #kim seokjin #jung hoseok #2seok #ouch i hurt myself

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laughinglion · 8 years ago

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Poland Product Testing with Wim Hof’s Innerfire

Can you imagine climbing the tallest mountain in Poland, in wintery weather, while only wearing a pair of shorts and hiking boots? We didn't think it was possible, so we took the Laughing Lion team to Poland to meet with Wim Hof and experience one of his winter experiences. Our goal was to test out our dry bag, and more importantly, to test out our bodies to see how far we could push ourselves. Needless to say it was an experience of a lifetime, and our dry bag held up amazingly well in the harsh conditions.

Whipping winds filled with ice and snow, -15 degrees Fahrenheit, and a windchill of -31 degrees Fahrenheit...it should never have been possible. How did we do it?

Who Is Wim Hof?

"Q: Name three people you've learned from in the last year?"

A: "Wim Hof..." ~ Jack Dorsey, founder of Square and co-founder of Twitter

Wim Hof is an amazing human being, and without hyperbole, just being around Wim can make you feel great. Wim became famous in the 1990's from a series of stunts. He seemed to be impervious to the cold. Nothing could stop him. He was soon dubbed the Iceman. In the process, he set 21 Guinness World Records, and soon had a large following. His list of feats is nothing but remarkable, and he sounds like a modern day superhero. Running a marathon in the Arctic Circle with only sandals and shorts? Yes, Wim has done it. Swim under ice for over 120 meters in swim trunks with only a single breath? Yes, Wim has accomplished it. Standing in a pool of ice for almost two hours without hypothermia kicking in? Yes, Wim has achieved it. His skills are not limited to just the cold. He ran a marathon in Namibia without drinking a single drop of water. Through the power of his mental focus and breathing, he found a way to perfectly regulate his body. He says this ability is inside every person. We all can do it. But it isn't just mere words, he has perfected his method, and now teaches people to regulate their bodies in less than a week. Can he do it? We found out this past December.

Poland Experience

After landing in Prague, our group is transported to a little village on the border of Poland and the Czech Republic. Staying at a lodge near the base of Mount Sněžka, we will be transformed in less than a week. With a late arrival caused by snowy conditions, we are all tired when we arrive around 11:00PM. There are bout 60 people this week, and we are split into three groups. Our group was led by the amazing team of Daniel Kluken and Joren De Bruin. Our leaders told us to grab some sleep because we had an early morning with a lot of training ahead of us. The next morning started with instruction in the breathing technique, and that was followed by multiple cold exposure activities. Cold exposure is one of the pivotal tenants of the Wim Hof Method, and Poland provided icy waters for us to test ourselves. The water temperature averaged between 34-37 degrees Fahrenheit. The first morning we could barely put our hands in the water, but with our training, we were able to submerge our bodies (up to our neck) by the first evening. It is amazing how quick this method can re-train the body. A mere few hours, and we overcame a big mental obstacle. Cold exposure, breathing, and a little bit of yoga filled our days. That doesn't mean it was boring or repetitive. While we covered the same macro-themes every day, the individual activities were different and became more challenging as we progressed through the program. Between sessions, we were able to talk with all of our wonderful fellow students. With over 21 nationalities and multiple faiths represented, the retreat was filled with interesting people from all over the globe. Additionally, Wim Hof held unofficial "office hours" at the lodge. 90% of the time, he was seated at one of the sofas where anyone could sit down and talk with him. Guitar in hand, dog by his side, he was ready to answer any questions and provide clarification on anything that was difficult for us. After a few days of training, we had an open Q&A with Wim. This was our final night before we attempted the mountain, and Wim was an open book. For about two hours, he discussed his life, his mission, and answered any and all questions. One of the most important topics he discussed was his Mount Everest expedition. Wim attempted to climb Mount Everest in only a pair of shorts and hiking boots. He got very close to the top, but he had to turn around when his body began to fail him. This was one of his big lessons for the evening. We might do crazy things, but you must listen to your body because there will always be a point of no return. He told us that he could have pushed himself to the top, and he would've made it. The only problem was that he didn't know if he could make it back down from the top. Always listen to yourself. With this in mind, we were pumped for our climb the next morning. Snow was in the forecast.

Up the Mountain

"Mother Nature is a mirror. She shows us our true selves." ~Wim Hof

With excitement in the air, we all met in the lodge's lobby. There was a definite buzz and energy in the air. This was our final exam. After a week of training and pushing our body and mind to our limits, we were now ready to go up the mountain. Wim says that Mother Nature is a mirror because when we face her we will see our true selves. When you get pushed to the brink, you find out what you are truly made of.

The Laughing Lion dry bag was packed with warm clothes, some water, a little bit of food and money. We took a group picture before hopping on the bus. On the bus we were briefed by our instructors. We were first warned about the snowy weather and that it could quickly shift. Our plan was to hike continuously as one group up the mountain. At the top there is a lookout station where we will change into our warm clothing before heading back down the mountain. They estimated it would take us three to three and a half hours to get to the top. With a clear mind, we headed up the mountain as one group with one purpose...get to the top.

One of the most difficult things was keeping focused. Three hours is a long time to keep a clear head, but like meditation, each time you start to wonder, you must return to the breath. Wim's breathing technique is remarkable. Here we were, in Poland, in December, snow falling on our bodies and it melted away. Back home, if the heat is below 65 degrees, we would be shivering. In a single week, his teachings had altered our mind and body.

About 90 minutes into the trek, the wind and weather intensified as we increased our elevation. The wind blasted one side of the group, and with little communication, we rotated from an "inside" to an "outside" position to protect ourselves. It was as if we were a single organism with a single purpose.

Because of the weather, our pace was much slower than estimated, and about three hours into our trek we were struck by utter chaos. We made a turn, and we were caught in a severe white out. The winds picked up and were in excess of 70MPH. Visibility was less than ten meters. This would be bad enough if he were fully clothed, but remember, just a pair of shorts and hiking boots. This could mean trouble.

Our instructors yelled at us to keep our focus. Don't let your mind wonder, this is life and death. Stay focused! We were about 80% of the way up the mountain, but like Wim warned us the previous night, sometimes you have to throw in the towel. The instructors knew, but we didn't know, that there was a little ski lodge just up ahead. With piercing winds and ice shards hitting us, we marched the final 150-200 meters into a white cloud. Those were a rough 200 meters, but we made it to shelter.

Wim was right. Mother Nature is a mirror. I didn't need to make it to the top of the mountain because I already broke through that mental barrier. Being at the brink and keeping focused was the ultimate thrill. We soon found out that those were the roughest weather conditions that the instructors had ever seen on the mountain. At dinner that night, one instructor told the whole group that after facing that chaos, he knew we could climb Kilimanjaro in a pair of shorts.

Concluding Thoughts

After spending an amazing week with Wim Hof, we found out that everyone can benefit from his teachings. He screams health, happiness and love for all, and without a doubt, he has a lasting influence on every person that he meets. We highly recommend his method, and if possible, you should try to meet him in person. He is currently on a North America tour where he is conducting one day seminars with large groups of people. Whatever the price, it will be worth it. As Wim always says, "BREATHE!"

Article Source Here: Poland Product Testing with Wim Hof’s Innerfire

#wim hof #nature #poland #adventure

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