#oh i was meant to get a dyslexia assessment when was that

[imallergictomyself]

it took so long for me to come to terms with adhd. with it actually being a disability. with it actually affecting me. with it impacting every thought i have, every decision i make, every action i take.

so yeah. i love you. if you’re unorganised. if you’re uncollected. if you’ve got twelve overdue tasks you can’t bring yourself to do. if you’re lying down unable to get up. if you can’t eat because executive dysfunction is being a fucking bitch again. you hear me? i fucking love you. even if nobody else is willing to say they do. i fucking love you and i fucking see you and i fucking hear you, yeah? you’re here and that’s all you need to be.

[whumpiary]

Can we hear about the first time Christopher kissed Cassius? Merry Christmas 🎅 🎄 ❤!!!

A little late for Christmas, Anon, but here’s a Happy New Year present! I’ve been vibing on some early Cass and Christopher so thank you for such a wonderful request.

content warnings: dubcon kiss, grooming, predatory thinking, supremely fucky power dynamics, abuse of power, emotional manipulation, referenced beating/whipping.

Cassius has been doing well since he’s been here. Very well. He’s opened up so much since his arrival ten-odd months ago. The moody, sullen, watchful boy that had arrived is being replaced day by day by the wide-eyed, curious, observant one.

Some boys were like that. Used to a world unpredictable, unrelenting, unforgiving. It was peaceful to them to be in a place that was relatively calm by comparison. Where the rules were plain and simple. The discipline severe and the rewards plentiful and easy to win. They just needed the right kind of guidance.

Cassius had arrived guarded and cynical, and then piece by piece, the shell had started to crack away. Revealing a soft middle. A trusting, confident middle. A sweet and hopeful middle. It was a thing to behold.

The past couple of months he’d taken to hovering in the doorway to Christopher’s office after curfew, asking some sort of question that might stir a conversation or a debate. Sometimes the questions were soft and gently probing. Other times they were outright rude and accusatory.

Boundary testing, Christopher had recognised early on. Seeing if he’d get in trouble for asking questions, for staying up after curfews, for sitting down. He didn’t mind a little of that. Especially when it was so clearly, underneath it all, a bargaining for attention, for affection, for care. Cassius wasn’t the only one of his boys starved for it, but the only one the right mix of bold and hungry to go searching.

Tonight they’re reading. Well, Cassius is reading. He’s doing well tonight too. The dyslexia now just a hurdle instead of the mountain he used to see it as. And Christopher listens. He always listens. Guides. Helps take the words from the page and shape them when the letters stick and shift too much.

Cassius’ eyes run across the pages of Gone With the Wind. Christopher’s run across the curve of Cassius’ cheek.

“He was shaking, as in- as though he stood in a strong wind, and his lips, trawl-, trailing-”

“Travelling.”

“-Travelling from her mouth down where to where… Wait,” he falls quiet for a moment, lips moving around the words as he shapes them out, stills them, unwinds them. “Downw- Down where. No, downward.”

“Very good.”

Christopher shifts his arm along the couch, stretching it out along the back, hand laying loose along the leather back. He flexes his hand, thumb trailing just barely along the seam of the boy’s shirt, imagining the pretty bruises that sit just below it.

“Downward to where the wrapper had fallen from her body, fell on her soft flesh.”

Cassius shifts in where he sits, perhaps the stiffness in his back bothering him. He’d taken a lashing a few days for speaking out of turn. Well, speaking out of turn and starting a fight with one of the other boys after breakfast.

Cassius seems to crave it if left for too long. Go searching for it. The punishments seemed to soothe him, calm and collar the restless thing inside of him. Like a balm. Like a back-burning.

He’d stayed silent and good for the first dozen or so. And then pretty cries of pain. Pretty arch of the spine. A gently whispered please when Christopher had asked if he’d learned his lesson somewhere along the thirty fifth.

Cassius keeps reading, “He was muttering things she did not hear, his lips were ev-oh-king feelings never felt before.”

Christopher doesn’t mind a few mistakes here and there. He’s still learning after all. And it’s sweet, really. The little frown that creases his brow. The pink tongue flicking out to wet his lips as he speaks. The set rhythm of his breathing that shows his focus.

“She was darkness and he was darkness- wait,” and that little pause again as he mouths the words, voice whispering out just barely. Christopher’s eyes drop to the boy’s mouth. He really does have gorgeous lips. Full and pink.

The shirt Cassius wearing is cut a little lower, shows the curve of his   collarbone, the flutter of his heart beat against it. The perfect place to run a tongue...

“She was darkness and he was darkness… I’m skipping again.”

Christopher blinks and brings his attention back to the book.

“Hm? No, that’s right,” he says softly. He leans across to trail his finger underneath the words. He can feel the heat from the boy’s body against his arm. “She was darkness and he was darkness and there had never been anything before this time, only darkness and his lips upon her. My favourite line”

“What’s it meant to mean?”

Christopher looks up from the book and smiles warmly, eyes tracing over the boy’s face. He tilts his head, holding the boy’s gaze, “What do you think it means?”

A single lifted shoulder in shrug, eyes back on the page. “I don’t know.”

Christopher breathes a laugh, “Well, I don’t believe that.”

Cassius glances at him side-long and gives a little smile, coloured with the tension of boyish embarrassment. Another shrug.

“Never had a stolen moment in a dark corner somewhere with a pretty girl?”

Cassius raises an eyebrow. Christopher raises his own.

“A pretty boy?”

Cassius snorts a laugh and looks away again, and Christopher watches him go. He’d bet his hat that this boy has had both. Would have both. He’s sure he’ll have snuck away in a hall somewhere in East Wing with one of the other charges. Pressed them against the wall or vice versa.

“No I get that. I get the...” he shrugs again instead of specifying. Sweet. “I just don’t get the like… darkness, darkness thing.”

Christopher tilts his head, hums in thought. How to describe. Explain. Guide. Shape. “Well... it’s about intimacy, isn’t it? And passion.”

Cassius gives him a wry smile, “So Rhett Butler’s just a really good fuck?””

Christopher laughs and rolls his eyes with a sigh like the suggestion is childish. He runs his thumb along that seam again.

“It’s about more than sex,” he says, smiling fondly. “It’s about... Feeling so close to someone that you can’t quite tell where you end and they begin.  Like it’s always been this way and always will and this moment between you will last forever.”

Cassius is looking at him like he’s just hand-painted stars into the sky. Like he’s hung the moon. It’s such a gorgeous look. Makes a man feel special.

But he doesn’t speak to that, of course. Instead what comes out of the boys mouth is,

“Think I’d rather stick a needle in my eye.”

“Mm? Why’s that?”

“Sounds gross as shit. Just… losing yourself to someone like that.”

“Oh, you don’t lose yourself,” Christopher assures, smiling warmly as he turns his body. Cassius shifts, too opens himself up without seeming to think about it. Christopher rests his head on his hand, elbow on the back of the chair. “It’s lovely. You feel like you’ve finally found the way it’s meant to be.”

His boy’s breath seems to catch. “And you’ve had that? Known people like that?”

Christopher smiles, murmurs conspiratorially, “I’m old. I’ve known all sorts of people.”

Cassius breathes a laugh but his eyes stay fixed. Like he’s locked in. Trapped. Lured. “And which one were you? Rhett Butler or Scarlett O’Hara?”

Christopher laughs lightly, tracing his eyes over Cassius’ face. He resists the urge, just barely, to tuck a curl behind his ear. “I’d say I’ve played both in my time.”

Cassius is watching him. Assessing. He does that from time to time. Like he’s weighing his options, figuring out what the next best move is. What’s expected. What’s wanted. What’s owed. Christopher just smiles and points back at Gone With the Wind.

“Listen to this next part, maybe it’ll make more sense to you” he says, he reaches across to the open page, finger trailing the words again, arm brushing against Cassius’ hand where he holds the book. “Suddenly she had a wild thrill such as she had never known; joy, fear, madness, excitement, surrender to arms that were too strong, lips too bruising, fate that moved too-”

Cassius launches forward.

Fast.

Christopher’s not expecting the kiss. But it isn’t surprising.

It’s boyish. Enthusiastic. Searching, questioning, sweet. Very sweet. Christopher nearly laughs into it, delighted and intrigued. The joy and the fear and the madness. The surrender. It’s lovely.

He wonders, briefly, if Cassius can feel the darkness between them. Or if he’s chasing the light.

Cassius pulls back just as fast as he’d fallen in. His hand flies up to cover those lovely lips, eyes that were sparkling a second before now filled with dread and shame. Something like fear.

It’s very, very sweet.

“Oh my god,” he says, barely a whisper against a palm. His cheeks are flushed. Eyes wide. “Oh my… oh fuck, I just-”

Christopher ducks his head a little, raises a reassuring hand, “It’s alright.”

Cassius is shooting to his feet, he’s standing up, he’s pacing the rug, he’s borderline panicking, “Oh my god, I’m- I don’t know why I did that. I don’t know why I-... I’m so sorry.”

“It’s nothing to apologise for.”

“No but I- I, I, I was reading the book- you were reading the book and I thought, I, I, I felt-”

“Cassius…”

“I didn’t mean, Oh my god I’m so, so sorry, I-”

Chrsitopher sighs and drops his voice, sets his gaze, “Cassius.”

His boy looks over to him finally, looking stricken and frightened. Like he’s about to be sick. Like he’s about to be punished. Like he’s ready to fall to his knees and ask for absolution. Christopher’s eyes drop to those lips again.

“Come sit.”

He does. Of course he does. Like a puppet on strings.

“I don’t know why I-”

“Shh,” he says, taking a fidgeting hand

“I’m so sorry-”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,”

“I didn’t mean to-”

“Cassius. Darling boy,” he brings his hand up to cup his boy’s cheek and every cell in Cassius’ body seems to freeze in stasis. Cassius’ eyes flick between each of his own, searching for direction. For guidance.

Christopher runs his thumb along the pretty cheek just to feel the shudder of the exhale. His boy isn’t sure if he should be expecting punishment or forgiveness.

Christopher leans in, hand shifting to tilt his boy’s chin up. He kisses him softly. Tenderly. And then he pulls back, admires the stars in those dark eyes; the sweetness, the confusion, the hope.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Christopher repeats, voice dancing between them, words catching on Cassius’ breath, running a visible shiver down his spine.

He melts against Christopher’s hand, eyes closing tight in desperate relief, pressing into his palm like a lost puppy. Christopher gives him a quiet moment, moves his thumb in a soothing stroke over his cheek. He looks beautiful like this. So uncharacteristically and honestly soft.

It’s only when Cassius opens eyes that Christopher smiles and speaks again, keeping his voice low, “Shall we keep reading?”

Cassius nods against his palm, lifts his head up, looks away. Wiping an escaped tear from his cheek with a rough fist. Christopher gives him the decency of looking away.

He shifts again so his arm is along the back of the couch once more. He makes no comment at the way Cassius has inched his body closer, all but cuddled against his side.

He’s really come so far since he’s been here. He’d go further too. With the right kind of guidance.

[superpuppies]

Hobbit High

Chapter 3: Damages

Fandom- The Hobbit

Characters- Ori X Dwalin, Bilbo X Thorin, Fili, Kili, Dori, Nori, Gandalf, Thlandral, Legolas

Rating- PG13

Word count-1748

Archive Link- https://archiveofourown.org/works/10027448/chapters/57582829#workskin

Summary- Nori takes a quick assessment of the damages

Hey all, here’s the newest from my mind, please keep in mind that I do have dyslexia and I really do try to fix all spelling mistakes but some will always slip through. If you spot some please let me know and I will do my best to correct it. Thank you.

Nori stood in the kitchen glaring down at the stir-fry vegetables he was chopping. When he had first gotten home he had crashed and slept for a few hours and that had helped. But now he was up and lying around, even if that’s all he wanted to do, made him feel useless. So since Ori was do home he had started dinner, but now Ori was just plane late and Dori would be calling in less than an hour. Nori was prepared for the lecture he was going to get about leaving school early, never mind that he had a perfectly good excuse for it, he did not need the added fact that Ori had apparently gone missing. Nori was sure if Ori didn’t show up in the next ten minutes he was going to go out, find him and then kill him.

The front door opened interrupting Nori’s planning of how to dispose of the body, and he growled putting down the knife as he walked out of the kitchen to meet his soon to be dead brother. “What the Hell, Ori!” He barked coming through the kitchen doorway.

“Your head feeling better?” Thorin smirked at his friend.

“Holy shit! What happened to you two?” Nori sputtered taking in the sight of the disheveled and defeated looking Bilbo and Ori. Nori ignored Thorin, rushing up to Ori and lifting his chin to force him to meet his brother’s eyes.

Ori turned away from his brother keeping his eyes down cast. He didn’t want to deal with the impending conversation all he wanted to do was lay down. In fact laying down sounded great right now! Ori tried to break away from Nori and Dwalin toward the sofa but Dwalin kept a firm hold on his shoulders. The pressure of his own arm against his side made Ori wince which in turn made Nori fall into panic mode. Nori removed Dwalin’s arm, a little more forcefully then necessary, and pulled Ori into the kitchen. Depositing him onto a tall counter stool before digging the rest of the half-tucked shirt out of Ori’s pants. Ori swatted at Nori’s hands. “St- stop it! Nori!” Ori whined as Nori hands tightened on the shirt and he pulled, popping the buttons off to reveal a splotchy Dalmatian pattern of bruises across Ori’s chest that merged into a deep dark bruise that took up his left side. “Wh- a, wh, why!” Ori stumbled staring at his brother. “Seriously! Why would you do that?”

Dwalin smirked despite himself, it was the most normal thing Ori had done since he found them. Though he didn’t like the hitch and pause to Ori’s breathing or the way Ori’s chest muscles seized with pain as he yelled.

“Like I’m not already enough of a mess, you just had to rip my shirt apart too!”

“Well, I needed to see what was” Nori was irritatingly calm.

“You could have just asked me! I would have done it. Just give me a minute, Damn it!” Ori pressed his right hand to his left side and sucked in a breath. “Now my shirt is ripped too. Way to just add to the day.” He glared. Nori just rolled his eyes but moved closer to Ori, reaching out to feel where Ori had his hand.

“Don’t be such a drama Queen” Nori said pressing his fingers into Ori’s bruise looking for any broken ribs.

“I, aah! I’m the drama queen! Mmhp! I didn’t just rip open someone’s shirt because I’m too stubborn and impatient to, Ow! Talk to them.”

“Alright, fine. I’m Sorry.” Nori’s sarcasm did nothing to help him.

Ori pushed his hands away and stood. “Bull shit! It’s this very shit that started those rumors!” Ori pushed past Nori with a wince and tore up the back stairs, Nori simply watched him blankly as he disappeared.

“Are you sure-” Dwalin began.

“Ah, he’s just going to go sulk in the shower.” Nori cut him off turning back to face them. “He doesn’t have any broken bones that I can feel anyway so he’ll come back down when he’s hungry or when Dori calls.”

“He does have a point though.” Thorin shrugged dropping his and Bilbo’s bag onto the kitchen table.

“Yes, yes I know, you have a problem with my screwing my brother senseless every night, so why don’t you just shut up about it.”

“I have a problem with it being blatantly untrue.” Thorin said dryly, rolling his eyes.

“I do!” Dwalin barked angrily, before he could stop himself. Bilbo, Thorin and Nori looked at Dwalin smirks spreading across their faces.

“That’s just because you want to be the one doing it.” Thorin and Nori said in unison. Dwalin turned on Thorin ready to attack but was cut off by Nori’s snickering voice.

“Shit! Like I didn’t know.”

“I knew it” Thorin triumphed at the horrified look on Dwalin’s face.

“You’ve been eyeing Ori for little over a year now. In fact I was pretty sure if you eyed him any harder you’d have burned a hole right through him.” Nori stated with a cocky little eyebrow raise.

Dwalin’s face fell, this was ridiculous, did everyone know how much he wanted Ori? He had been trying so hard to keep it hidden not wanting to scare Ori off or let Dori know. Dwalin was one hundred percent sure if Dori knew he was a dead man.

“Have you told him?” Bilbo asked looking up at Dwalin a sweet little smile on his face. He sincerely hoped Dwalin hadn’t because if he had that meant that Ori was being deliberately obtuse.

“Dwalin?” Thorin laughed. “No, he’s too much of a fucking pansy to tell Ori.”

“Fuck you, Thorin.” Dwalin barked and Nori laughed. “Like you have the balls to tell Bilbo what you want to do to him.” Thorin’s eyes flashed and Bilbo’s cheeks flushed red.

“Actually, Dwalin, I already have.” Thorin leaned in threateningly, then backed away slightly his eyes flickering towards the ground. “Well some of it.”

Dwalin stared, stuck in disbelief. “Damn it!”

Nori scrunched up his face, confused. When did that happen? Man, you go home early one day and the whole world changes. “And just think,” Nori chimed in. “All it took was the two of them getting the crap beat out of them.”

Thorin dropped his head in shame. “Yeah, there is that.”

Bilbo moved closer to Dwalin and put his hand on the larger boy’s arm. “You should tell him, it’d help.”

“Speaking of helping, young master Bilbo.” Bilbo turned to Nori. “Come on over here and let’s have a look at you while you share with us the magical tale of what exactly happened to you two today.” Nori indicated the stool Ori had vacated in a huff. Bilbo sighed and began pulling his shirt off as he walked over. Bilbo’s chest and sides were blotchy with bruises as Ori’s had been but thankfully, he did not have the solid deep side engulfing bruise that Ori had scored for himself. Nori crossed his arms and waited for Bilbo to begin. Bilbo just stared down at his own chest; he had never seen his skin turn such an array of colors before.

“Bilbo, explain.” Nori said leaning over him slightly.

“Oh,” Bilbo looked up at Nori. “Right. Sorry. Umm, I guess”

“Bilbo”

“Yesterday,” Bilbo looked down at the ground. “Ori and I swapped stories” Nori groaned but held his tongue as he began feeling under the bruises. “he didn’t want one of the stories I gave him so I put it in my locker. I know I did.”

“Oh lord.” Nori mumbled.

“Then at the end of the day I couldn’t find it but Ori and I were talking so I thought I had already grabbed it and put it in my bag.” Bilbo quieted for a moment and looked up at Nori sadly. “I couldn’t find it anywhere. When I told him this morning we started looking everywhere. We were headed over to Mr. Théoden’s to see if I had dropped it there when Fili and Kili showed up.” Bilbo sighed and shifted his gaze to his hands. “They had it, I don’t know where they got it but” Nori put his hands on Bilbo’s shoulders and Bilbo looked up at him quieting.

Nori sighed and then shook Bilbo. “How many times have I told you not to bring those to school!”

Bilbo made a startled squeak and grabbed Nori’s arms to keep from falling off the stool. “I know, I know”

Thorin glared at Nori. “Stop that.”

Nori let go of Bilbo, who then fell against his chest. Nori turned his head to look at Thorin and brought his eyebrows together in confusion.

“Where’s Dwalin?”

Thorin looked to his right with a quiet. “What?” Then turned around taking in the whole room until he came back to Nori and Bilbo looking just as confused. “I have no idea. Maybe the whole thing was too much for him and he ran home.” Thorin laughed.

“Oye, those two are perfect for each other.” Nori sighed. “Alright, Bilbo let’s get you cleaned up and call your folks so they don’t worry about you too much.”

Bilbo smiled then started up the stairs Nori behind him. Nori set Bilbo up in Dori’s bathroom and brought him some of Ori’s pajamas to put on, before he headed toward the bathroom he shared with Ori in an attempt to pull his brother back to the real world. He still didn’t get where Dwalin had run off to but if the big man wanted to chicken out and be a pansy about this then fine.

“Ori, Come on we have to figure out what we’re going to tell Dori so he doesn’t freak out and rush back here” Nori had started before opening the door to the bathroom but let his voice trailed off as he found Dwalin.

Dwalin was kneeling next to the tub looking over his shoulder at Nori, now but had just been kissing a very wet, very naked and very confused looking Ori. The three simply stared at each other until Nori spoke again. “Okay. Well that explains what happened to you. Ori get dressed, Dori’s going to call soon and I for one would like to know what we are going to tell him.” With that Nori turned and walked out of the room shouting, “Ten minutes, Ori.” over his shoulder.

[ginsburg-sam]

DRUNK IN THE MORNING | SPUCK

WHO: Noah Puckerman & Sam Evans

WHAT: After Sam’s tattoo adventure at a party, he finds himself at Puck’s apartment, needing his best friend to be there for him

WHEN: Backdated to November 19th, morning

WHERE: Puck’s apartment

WARNING: Mentions of alcohol 

SAM: It had been a long night. Sam hadn't slept yet. Surprise surprise - that had been a given for the past couple of days that Sam hadn't been able to get any rest, his mind constantly thinking about ways that he could improve himself, ways that he could make up for the fact that he'd hurt all of those different people. It hadn't only been a long night, it had been a long week, and Sam just wanted to spend his time with someone. Ideally, it would've been Tina. But even in his drunken state, he knew that it wouldn't be a good idea to show up at her room, at 5 in the morning, on a Tuesday. He knew he'd get in trouble for that, and he knew he'd just make things worse if that was what he decided to do. He knew that much.

It was cold as he walked across campus. He'd left his jacket...somewhere. He couldn't really remember where he'd put it. Maybe it was at Tina's? Sam stopped walking as he thought about it. Maybe it was at Tina's. He turned around and started walking towards the dorms that she lived in. Maybe he'd left his jacket at Tina's, just like his heart and his values in life, and everything good in the world - it was at Tina's place. Right? No...it couldn't be. He'd worn it after seeing her the other day. Stopping up again, Sam's eyebrows furrowed and instead, he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. That must be Tina, responding to my text! His drunken self thought and he pulled it out to see who it was.

While it wasn't Tina, Sam's face still lit up. "PUCK!" He screamed, his voice echoing all over the empty campus. He didn't even read the messages that Puck had sent him, his thumbs immediately started typing. His eyes were squinting, trying to see what he was doing, but being dyslexic and drunk was a bad mix, and after several times of typing something up, deleting it, and typing it again, the outcome was a "Cna I chrahs at yours?" He didn't wait for a reply and instead started marching towards Puck's apartment. 

He tried to be quiet as he made his way into the building, not wanting to wake the residents up. Knocking on the door softly, Sam shushed it. "You're being loud," He whispered to the door, waiting for it to open up. Sam leaned forward, his head hitting the door and using it to knock a few more times.

PUCK: Texting late at night was Puck's usual. He had a lifestyle that meant he would be and could be up at all hours of the day. He had gone to bed at one point, only to wake up at another point in the night, and then at another point simply decided he would stay up. It usually wasn't too hard to find somewhere for him to nap around campus if he needed to, or a bed to stay in. Plus he had his truck. Deciding he would be fine figuring it out as he went along about his day meant he was up at 3:30 am, showered by 4:45 am, and making some Eggo waffles and checking his phone by 5:00 am.

Had he expected to get a reply from people? Yeah, that was pretty normal. There were the health nuts who would be up already and horny for a workout of some sort, the people still rolling from the night before, people wanting to buy weed, some actually just up for normal reasons... but still, of all the names to flash on his screen, having Sam Evans be one wasn't expected. Especially with the request to crash at his place. That didn't sound like he was waking up and getting an early start to his day. The dude was fucked up, and Puck wasn't going to let him deal with that alone.

However, he wasn't getting replies, and as it got to be 5:30 with no answer back, Puck was getting ready to go to campus and see if he could find the blonde. All he'd have to do is yell about free comic books or say that hottie Sigourney Weaver was on signing autographs. He knew his friend well enough-- that was why Puck also knew he was hurting. Things were a little jumbled for Sam at the moment when it came to the affairs of his heart, yet Puck was certainly aware that he had a good one underneath it all. If guys like Sam couldn't rise above their actions, then that meant there was certainly no hope for Puck to ever do the same. 

Perhaps that played a part in Puck's ability to retain a fierce loyalty regardless of circumstance. Why he would do anything for his friends-- such as risk opening his front door to a mostly unexpected thudding. His reasoning? He was almost positive he heard Sam's voice faintly on the other side of his silent apartment.

"Evans?" Puck asked as he swung the door open, eyes quickly assessing if he was going to need to pick Sam up or if he could still walk on his own two feet. He wanted to hope so considering he made it to Puck's apartment, but he had seen drunk people both manage and mess up plently of things. It was just usually himself doing it. Glad to see his friend standing and there, Puck greeted in the only warm way he knew how, "There you fucking are dude, I was getting ready to go call out the hounds to find your ass." Despite the words, he had a smile break out on his face, only for it to quickly falter as he noticed Sam's face. He had a black eye it looked like, and it wasn't even a fresh one, along with the rest of him looking no better. His instinctive need to care made Puck reach out, brushing Sam's bangs aside and tilting his head to try and get a better look at his friend's wounds, "Jesus, the hell you've been up to tonight? And why wasn't I invited?" Mostly he had said it because he wished he had been there to maybe of prevented some of the mess in front of his doorway.

SAM: It felt like an eternity before the door opened. Sam's eyes were closing, as he felt himself get more tired, leaning his head against the door. If Puck didn't open up, Sam would just sleep right then and there, he decided. Fuck it, he didn't care who saw him. He didn't care at all anymore. Puck was one of the most reliable people that Sam had in his life, he knew he'd defend him in whatever way he could, to the neighbors in the building, if they started talking. Besides, Sam also knew that Puck didn't give a shit about what they thought, and that was why the Evans boy felt that he'd be fine with just sleeping out there. It wouldn't embarrass Puck, he knew it.

But then the door swung open, and Sam almost came falling through, before his hand landed on the doorframe, and he stopped himself. "Lucy," He called out, turning up his best Desi Arnaz impression. "You've got some 'splaining to do," Looking up, Sam's eyes landed on Puck's and he grinned. He stood up straight, swaying slightly on his feet as he felt the other man's hand almost ghost his forehead. It felt nice, and the grin transformed into almost a pout. "I went to a party, this dude..." Sam started, rolling his eyes. "I think his name was Mag- Micha- Messiah something threw this party for all of the seniors," He shrugged his shoulders and moved to put his hands on either side of Puck's face. "Thanks for taking me in, it feels just like my high school days when my family was homeless."

Sam hadn't meant to say that, but Puck knew all about what had happened during the last two years of Sam being in high school. During a drunken night in Freshman year, Sam had spilled everything to him, feeling like he could trust him enough with the information. He'd known at that point that Puck was going to stay in his life, and that they were friends; Sam considered Puck to be one of his best friends. And so during that one night, after too many shots of tequila, Sam had told Puck all about his dyslexia, and how much he was bullied for it, and how his parents had lost their jobs and Sam had needed to provide for the family, taking up three jobs whilst still trying to maintain some good grades in high school. It was a lot, and tears had been shed during that night, and even though a lot of alcohol had been involved, Sam still remembered every single thing about it. Because Puck had been there for him. He'd shown how much he cared, he showed respect and sympathy, and it was everything that Sam needed in a best friend. 

"Can I come in?" Sam asked, not wanting to be rude. It hadn't been the first time that he'd stayed over at Puck's, but it had been for completely different reasons. They usually involved weed and video games. "Why are you up? Have you been to a party too?" Puck was always a mystery to Sam; what he spent his time doing. "Oh, I've got to show you somethin'," Sam lifted up his t-shirt, covering his face with it, so he couldn't see. "Can you see it?" He asked, pointing to the fresh ink that was on his chest, right above his left nipple. 'Temporary'. It was still bleeding, but less so now than before. "I'm a bad boy now, right?"

PUCK: From the I Love Lucy impression to the innocent way Sam asked to come in, Puck could say with certainty that even with all the wear and tear that this creature was Sam Evans. He might have been beaten, battered, and bruised, but there was hope for him to come out of all this. Puck was certain of that much, even if Sam might have not. 

"Yeah Evans, course you can come in." Puck assured, stepping aside and leaving the door open for Sam to follow through. Letting Sam Evans in hadn't ever been hard for Puck do, which was actually saying something. He was unashamedly himself, sure, but that didn't mean he was up for talking about the things that troubled him. He wasn't like Sam, who wasn't open about his past but also wasn't as shy about admitting his feelings. However, Sam had been there when Puck had a few bad trips while they lived together and he learned what it was like to have someone actually sit with him through a storm. Waking up the next day and having what happened the night before actually bring them closer was one the reasons that Sam had quickly landed the role of best friend. Not just a party friend, but a true, genuine best friend. So of course Puck wasn't against having him come over despite the time and despite Sam's state.

Puck made his way over to the fridge to grab themselves each a beer, as it was as natural to drink for Puck as water was meant to be for the human body. That was why he didn't bother to ask Sam if he wanted one before doing so. Grabbing the handle, Puck was about to give Sam his answer on what had him up only to be presented with something he didn't expect. Not even remotely.

Sam showing off his physique wasn't exactly out of the ordinary-- the guy took care of himself so he had a right to show it off. It had just been awhile since Puck had seen him outside of the locker room, so the sight had him linger for a moment. The dude looked like shit but his body... well, it sure didn't. And then Puck realized there was something he was supposed to be looking for specifically, and it stuck out as soon as his brain made the connection, "Holy shit, dude... is that what I think it is?" Puck couldn't help but exclaim, eyes squinting. He was trying to sort how he felt about the sight while also reading it the Temporary etched on pale skin, "I can't believe you actually got fucking ink..." Of course Puck could see the badassery of tattoos, but his religion also banned getting them, which had been a bigger hang up than he ever let on. And the one he did have was the prison tat he had to get in order to have protection. Yet despite his limited experience with the practice, even Puck could tell the tattoo needed a little TLC. 

"Hey bad boy, how about you do me a favor," Puck announced as he started to pull the fridge open to locate drinks. He didn't want to continue to stare at Sam's chest and tattoo. At least not from across the room like this, "Take your shirt off and sit on the couch. I'll be over there in a sec," He directed, grabbing the beers and setting them out. He needed to take a few moments to go through his cabniets for the medical supplies he kept. Given his major, Puck had become even more versed in actual, physical self care and various supplies. Having shitty health insurance contributed to it, too, of course, "How'd that even happen dude? Most tattoo places around here are closed by like 8 on weekdays. That looks fresh as shit."

SAM: Puck’s apartment reminded Sam of his own. The layout of it seemed to be a Ginsburg thing, because the two places shared a certain rustic feeling to it, but it was the decor that Sam thought of. While there was way more weed-smoking options in Puck’s apartment than Sam’s, the walls had the movie posters in common, and it felt lived in. The stacks of video games piled high and while it wasn’t the cleanest, it was nice. It was a home. And a place that felt this secure was exactly what Sam needed now; without being alone. He hadn’t hesitated to type his message out and ask if he could stay there that night because he knew exactly what he was getting with Puck. Despite their friendship only being a year old, it felt like the two had known each other since they were kids, and Sam knew that he could rely on the guy. More than he could rely on himself. 

It was stinging like all hell. It felt tight on his skin. And Sam wasn’t the biggest fan of it. He wasn’t the type of guy to do something like this. Sam Evans was born and raised in a nice and caring household that went to church every Sunday, said grace at the table, didn’t swear unless it was completely necessary, and treated most people with kindness and compassion. This was completely out of the ordinary for him, and he knew that Puck knew that. 

Puck’s reaction wasn’t a surprise to him then. The swear, the shock in his tone - the craziest thing that Sam had done during college was take molly that one time, and it was one time too many for him. Puck had been the one to introduce this lifestyle of partying to him, and Sam loved the freedom. But he was also very new to it, and he still had certain boundaries. Weed, he could get down with. It made him relax in a way that sex made him. And again, sex was also only a thing because Puck had introduced him to it. Something that Sam was forever grateful for.

Pulling his shirt over his head and off, the grin on Sam’s face had disappeared. It was replaced instead with a light furrow to his eyebrows as he sat down on the couch, as instructed by his friend. He was all of a sudden regretting it. This was not ‘temporary’ - this was staying on his body forever. “Puck,” Sam called out, before he saw the man come back into the room with bottles of something; they didn’t look drinkable that was for sure. “Someone at the party brought one of those cheap kits,” he hiccuped at the end of the sentence. “I don’t think he knew what he was doing.”

Sam watched Puck, his eyes going from his hands to his face, looking up at him, finding his deep brown eyes. His own had turned sadder than the happy expression he had on earlier when he’d seen his best friend. Realization kicked in. “Do you think Tina’s going to hate it?” He asked, his voice quiet now. “Do you think I’ve lost all chances with her now?” Looking down at his hands, Sam felt the tears sting his eyes. He sniffed and quickly wiped them away, clearing his throat. His voice came out in a whisper. “I’ve disappointed her.”

PUCK: So many parts to the story at hand just didn't add up to being anything remotely Sam Evans-like. The guy who Puck had known his freshman year was the definition of a bright eyed and bushy tailed kid coming to the big city-- and they weren't even in a big city. Sam had just simply not experienced many joys that life had to offer that didn't have to do with country living or loving thy family and neighbor. Did Puck have to make Sam be his passion project when found any of that information out their freshman year? No, but someone needed to show the guy a good Friday night could mean more than being able to have Chinese and order a pay per view movie that wasn't even a porn. But seeing Sam now, knowing the kind of escape he was going for when attending a party to run from troubles, well Puck couldn't help but wonder if maybe he wasn't as good of an influence as he thought. Sam could make his own decisions, sure, it was just hard to see someone Puck cared about deeply be struggling so much.

"Anyone who brings shit like that to a party usually doesn't know what they're doing. Same goes for the guys who bring guitars to em, and that's why we don't do it." Puck reminded, his tone suggesting that he was actually handing out sage advice to Sam despite it being nothing of true value. Unless you asked Puck, of course. He took a seat beside Sam, setting the water he had warmed up, a few clothes, gauze, tape, and the beers on the table. It wasn't exactly the first time Puck's coffee table had seen such a display of items riddled on its surface, though it was one of the first times he was being done for Sam Evans' sake. Hopefully it would be the last, "Are you really gonna sit there and defile the good name of Chez Puckerman by getting emo over a girl at 6am? C'mon Evans, major party foul."

Leaning forward, Puck soaked a cloth in the water, wringing it out a few times, "Look... listen dude," Puck blurted out in a gentle way, not wanting his friend to get too inside of his own head. It seemed he had done that enough tonight. Putting one hand on Sam's shoulder, Puck used his other to start cleaning off Sam's swollen, bloodied tattoo, "When people care, like really care, you don't just 'lose chances' with 'em. They'll see through the bullshit." Speaking from experience, it was really the only way he could justify his mother still loving him the way that she did, "But that doesn't mean you can keep pullin it, either 'cause at some point that's just walking all over 'em and they'll realize it. No one's gonna be happy then." Puck kept his eyes focused on tending to the self-chosen wound on Sam's chest, doing his best to ignore the fact he did have a hot guy shirtless in front of him. As it turned out, Puck's libido did have an off button-- or maybe his genuine care for Sam outweighed it. 

"You're gonna disappoint people, Sammy boy. That's just facts. So you can either man up and accept that or you can be a sad sack for the rest of your life." Satisfied with his work, both in words and cleaning, Puck's eyes flicked up to meet with Sam's, "And just so we're clear, that second option ain't actually an option. Especially not for your pretty lookin face," Puck deemed,, offering Sam the signature smirk that seemed always at the ready on his lips, all while he had a hand lightly pat his cheek as if to emphasize his point.

SAM: Chuckling, Sam nodded. “I only brought mine that one time, because Rachel had asked me to accompany her on it. And we all know how that went,” That was a dreadful night that he didn’t remember much of, except for being in Lauren Zizes’ lap - that felt like the beginning to this whole thing that had just had a domino effect. He wasn’t even sure if he had been with the girl that Tina had overheard talking about a make-out session. Mainly because he wasn’t actually the type of guy to do something like this. Throughout Freshman year, Sam had only had one-night stands and they were with girls who hadn’t seemed interested in dating him anyway, so to see the same people again and again, and actually have something going on with one, let alone five was so unlike Sam Evans. That was Puck’s style. It was his way of doing things; making it very clear that he was only in it for sex from the beginning, and not getting emotionally attached. And while some people might have seen it as sleazy, Sam admired the fact that he was able to make it so clear to people from the beginning. It took huge balls to be so up-front with everyone about it. 

This was a situation that the young man had never been in. He’d never gotten so attached to a girl before, and he’d never felt so guilty about something, ever. He knew he’d hurt her; not only because he was compassionate, but because someone liked to remind him, every single day. And he was getting sick of hearing it. It already tore him apart, knowing what he’d done, and how it wasn’t just Tina who’d gotten hurt, but four other people. He didn’t need to be reminded of his actions. But he was also getting tired of not being allowed to be sad either. He was getting annoyed that he couldn’t feel things. Sam was all about making other people, but he couldn’t help but feel like his happiness was being forgotten at the same time.

Looking up, Sam had quickly wiped away the tears that had been close to spilling over, sucking in a deep breath, as he listened to Puck. He agreed, 100% with him. And he knew that he was going to end up just repeating what he said, because how else could Sam prove to him, and several other people that he agreed and he understood, and he was aware of the fact that he’d hurt them? He was doing his best to be better, but it was getting difficult with everyone shoving the same information down his throat. “What bullshit am I pulling now, Puck?” Sam asked, his jaw clenching slightly as he felt himself getting more annoyed. It was probably down to the alcohol and no sleep, but he was getting pissed off. What people didn’t seem to understand was that Sam had never intended to do any of this, and that his feelings had caught up with him too late. 

The stinging of Puck cleansing Sam’s newly acquired tattoo was nowhere near the pain that he felt in his heart. He was appreciative of the help that he was getting, he knew that he owed the guy big time. But he really didn’t want to sit there and be told that he should “man up” when he felt lonely. Standing up after Puck had patted his cheek, Sam put his t-shirt back on. There seemed to only be one option left for him, if he didn’t have to be lectured about what he’d done wrong. “It’s fine. It’s all good.” He lied, and took a long swig of his beer.

PUCK: It wouldn't of taken someone who lived with Sam for a year to be able to tell a nerve had been struck by the end of Puck's words. As happy go luck as Sam was, and as good at hiding deep, personal things as he was, something he seemed not so good at was hiding emotions. Maybe it was the puppy dog face, maybe it was the pouty lips, or maybe it was the normally trusting eyes, but whatever it was, Puck could notice it as soon as it happened. Leaning back, Puck watched as Sam stood up and put his shirt back on. For a moment Puck just sat there, watching and waiing for Sam to keep talking or bring up another subject. When he didn't, Puck could tell his friend was much more emotionally compromised than he thought. One of the few rare pieces of advice that Puck had ever gotten in life was to man up, and it was unfortunate how it had stuck. Especially now. Especially for Sam.

"Evans, c'mon dude. Don't be like that. I didn't mean you're pulling bullshit in some bad way," Puck coaxed, turning his attention towards his own beer so he could snatch it off the table. He was trying to act as casual about Sam's attitude change as he could. He didn't want Sam to leave, but Puck wasn't the type to beg someone to stay. Sure his friend had been reckless, but he hadn't been doing anything outright batshit. On a scale of one to ten a tattoo at a party was like a five in terms of things to be concerned about. Still, Sam being alone didn't sound like a good idea, and truthfully, Puck preferred not being alone either. He didn't want his inability to know what to say be the thing to make Sam believe no one was on his side, "Where're you even gonna go? It's late. Just sit back down and chillax. Seriously. I'll roll us something if you're this on edge."

SAM: The long sip turned into Sam finishing the beer right then and there. He didn't realize how thirsty he'd become. Maybe it was the walk over. Maybe it was the tattoo and how he'd fainted right after he'd gotten it; or maybe it was subconscious and needing it to be able to deal with all of this. Being sober meant that the thoughts were constantly in his head. He was constantly worrying about Tina, worrying about everyone else, wondering if they still hated him, when it would be a good time to text them, and how long they needed their space for. It wasn't easy, going from speaking to everyone, almost every day, to just nothing. And not having them in his life anymore. His heart was aching for their company.

What Sam didn't understand was how it felt like he wasn't allowed to go through these emotions of guilt and sadness and hurt. He knew he was the one who'd screwed it all up, but as he'd said a million times beforehand to almost everyone, he'd never intended to do anything like it. So it was slowly getting to him that everyone was dismissing his feelings.

Leaning back against the kitchen counter, Sam looked up to see Puck's expression from across the room. He knew that Puck meant well. He knew that he was the type of guy to be up-front about the truth, and that he wouldn't sugar-coat anything; and that wasn't what Sam was talking about here. He just wanted people to get off of his back for a bit, so he would stop feeling so miserable and guilty over being told something that he already knew. "I know you didn't mean it like that, I'm sorry for snapping," Sam said gently, sighing as he calmed down a bit. "I haven't slept in four days, I don't know how," He voice cracked at the end of the sentence and he sucked in a deep breath. "I'm sorry for putting all of this on you, man. I just don't know who to turn to anymore, because I'm getting shit from everyone. I can't deal with it all. I'm not that horrible." He made his way back to the couch and just leaned back, his head falling onto the backrest. Whispering, he repeated it. "I'm not that horrible."

PUCK: Hearing the drunken, sleep deprived confessions of Sam Evans wasn't something Puck was built for. It wasn't something people did with him. It wasn't as if Puck wasn't trustworthy, he was, but he wasn't the kind where people let walls down that involved sincere struggles. The ones that couldn't be aided by simple sex, drugs, alcohol, or even video games. Not on their own anyway. Even in the past Puck was usually just listening to Sam talk about what he went through and what had been hard. This was stuff that was happening now which meant Sam needed than another beer, and Puck knew what it was.

A soft "Hey," Left his lips before he knew it was happening, and it was due to the fact he needed to try the thing his friend always did-- speak from the heart, "What you're saying right now? That's bullshit..." Puck paused, waiting a beat to hope and ensure his words caught Sam's attention. He knew it sounded like he was about to hit him with more of his harsh truths, but he wanted to give Sam more than that, "You're not horrible at all. Plain and simple, Evans. You hear me?" 

With a lick of his lips, Puck switched the beer in his hand so he could make it possible for his palm to lay gently on Sam's chest. Not on his tattoo, but anatomically to his heart. He didn't want to hurt Sam, however, he wanted to make a point as he pressed his hand there with a more soft, sincere touch, "You're a good guy with a good heart, okay? That shit's about as permanent as your tattoo." He assured with a smile almost as empathic as his touch seemed to be, "So whatever you do man, no matter what happens... don't let tonight or any other night make you think otherwise. I don't."

It was most obvious then than it was in most cases why Puck was good at his major. It wasn't due being an expert in touch-- it was him putting a piece of himself in every genuine caress he did. Including now with his best friend in he hopes he could show he had always meant well. And that he cared.

SAM: Sam couldn't help but be in his feelings about all of this. It was so hard to shake the guilt of hurting not only Tina, but everyone else. He felt like he was suddenly all alone in his world. He knew that he still had Puck and Jake in his life, and he cherished them more than ever. It was times like this that Sam knew that he could count on those guys, because they didn't run away or abandon him when he had these problems. They were there to tackle them head on. But what surprised Sam was when Puck got really personal and sweet. He'd gone from 'man up' to all of a sudden saying all these nice things that almost made Sam choke up.

Raising his head from the backrest, Sam pouted slightly. He didn't deserve to hear such nice words from his best friend. He knew he deserved the smoke that he'd been given, about the bullshit that he'd pulled people through, but whatever Puck was saying? It was getting to him. He felt his throat close up slightly as he took in the words, believing them. 

His eyes were filling up, he could feel it, and he cursed under his breath because he knew that he shouldn't be getting this emotional, but the lack of sleep and affection, and the amount of alcohol consumed over the last couple of days, meant that the words that Puck were saying to him meant more than he could even fathom. Sam moved, his arms reaching out to grab the other guy and he clung himself to him. His arms locked him into a tight embrace. He was so thankful to have someone like Puck in his life still. He didn't want that to ever get messed up.

"Thank you," Sam whispered as he closed his eyes tightly to keep the tears from spilling out. "You're my best friend, man. I can always count on you," He needed Puck to know just happy he was to have him as a friend.

PUCK: As Sam's arms wrapped around him, Puck's own arms lifted and remained unsure of what to do, "Whoa there, Evans, you're acting like we're about to face the First Order," Puck lightly teased with a distant chuckle. No it wasn't his first hug ever, but it was unexpected. Though given it was Sam Evans, it wasn't hard to figure an embrace was ever really far away from happening. Puck didn't even mind the intimacy behind it, his body and soul opening up to feel the warmth as he started to hug Sam back. A part of his own heart seemed to swell, finding a solace he didn't even know he needed in the early morning hours. Without thought, the words "You're my best friend, too, dude," slipped out. While it was already a known fact, there was an extra weight behind it given the moment. Puck could tell that much.

Pulling back, Puck locked eyes with Sam and gave him an encouraging smile as his hands remained on Sam's shoulders. There was a deeper sense of trust, appreciation, and even understanding that seemed to exist between them. He was glad to have Sam as a friend, and it was nice to feel that the feeling was truly mutual. Patting his shoulder, Puck reassured once more, "You're gonna be alright, buddy, and even if you're not, you're always gonna have me." Only to nod confidently. Then his eyes glanced down at Sam's shirt and remembered what they were doing moments prior. Puck's chin directed towards Sam's chest to bring attention back to it.

"And before we play Super Mario Bros, you're gonna let me finish wrapping your tat back up. I don't want it to blur or anything, you wanna be able to show that sucker off." Puck instructed, one of his hands dropping down over Sam's collarbones and onto his chest. It was a light touch as to not harm his friend but to give a gentle reminder of what his drunken state had already likely put on the backburner, "We wear our battle scars with pride around here. Remember that, bad ass." And by how earnest Puck's words were, it was clear he meant it more than just about some ink permanently etched on to Sam's skin. Including calling him bad ass.

[neshabeingchildish]

Poly Wanna? Ch. 7

This is probably my messiest chapter YET. We get some action too, and some pain and even some violence, so TW for that. I didn’t put a warning on the ffnet post, but I think most of the readers read this here anyway and only my two muffins read on that end. They know who they are. At any rate, prepare to drama to the fullest reality TV style extent.

Lemme know if I need to take you off the tag. Idk who’s actually reading because I’ve only heard from a couple of people, so idk if y’all still interested.

@adorkable-blackgirl  @chenoahchantel @ciara-knightly @cactus-con @up-the-tube @riebellion  @itsyaapollochild@oof–musicals @lesbian-so-what @woahjusttakeiteasy-man @meadowstryingtobepretty @imma-sensitive-btch @okaygal21 @midernacht @divinereign4ever @xoxoemille

The Unspoken Stories

“You know how sometimes, people say things like ‘I had a feeling about this’ or ‘I simply just knew,” or anything else to indicate that they possessed some intuition about things? I often wonder where that comes from? Is it like Charlotte says - the universe, energy, spirit, etc or whatever, or is it something inside of you that just tells you, like a superpower? I don’t tend to have a lot of intuition about many things. I tend to try to assess what I see, but I’m usually battling with multiple questions about exactly what that is. I don’t have any intuition that I know of, so the feeling that I’ve been getting around Char and Jasp… I think it’s probably wishful thinking, but they’re warming up to me.”

Jasper decided that a good place to maybe talk out some of Charlotte’s tension, as it related to Henry and the other two girls was to have them air it out at the spa. Henry and Charlotte both thought that was a terrible idea, but he raised a good point, “Would it be better at a fancy restaurant, at dinner, where drinks might be thrown? Or at one of our homes, where possessions might be damaged? At least if things go poorly, everyone can go to a different room and get some stress relief treatment.” 

“Why are your expectations filled with violence?” Charlotte wondered, knowing that he probably was lowkey accusing her of possibly whipping somebody’s ass. 

She wasn’t violent, so much as she had been more likely to fight since her breakup with Henry. That was the first time she struck someone in anger, and it felt good at the moment, but definitely bad afterwards. Even if she hadn’t hurt her wrist, she hurt her pride. She let him make her so mad that she resorted to putting her hands on someone. She didn’t like that about herself. And, it made it easier for her to be willing to put her hands on others, since then. Boxing helped, though. Punching a bag instead of punching people, whether or not they deserved it, kept her from punching her dad right in the chin any time that she saw him.

“Because, I’ve had to pull my girlfriend backstage for fighting customers,” Jasper answered simply.

“Wasn’t a fight. He grabbed me and I defended myself.”

“You broke a glass over his head. I’ve DROPPED those glasses, numerous times. Do you know the level of not with the shits you have to be to break one of those on a human being?” Jasper wondered.

“He had a thick skull,” she said and shrugged her shoulders. “I’m not violent. I’m defensive. There’s a difference. Whenever I punched at Henry, it was a reflex to him grabbing me when I was trying to leave and was already pissed. I’ve only ever hit men who made me feel threatened or violated my space. They might rule this world, but I’m not a part of any man’s inheritance.”

Charlotte had a WHOLE regimen planned for the day. She had checked on the prices and made a checklist of what she was having done and they had decided that their chat could be held in the steam room. She and Jasper rode together, of course. He had his hair pulled up into a tiny bun that she kept snapping photos of and K(her)SL. Along with the stubble on his face, he looked so “Daddy,” and she lived for it, but that bun was SENDING her. 

The owner of the spa (the one with the history with Henry that he never quite acknowledged) made sure to be there herself to make sure that the group was treated fairly. Charlotte hoped to see some juicy backlash, but Henry was already there when she and Jasper came in, sweet-talking her. There were flowers there and a handwritten card. She was guessing that he apologized… She stopped Jasper and asked, “Is that Henry’s handwriting?” in a quiet voice.

“Girl, no. Henry has a pensman.”

“That’s not a real word.”

“Penman?”

“Somebody writes letters for Henry?”

“Whenever he wants to suck up extra hard. The dyslexia, you know, makes letters from him more heartfelt?”

“But, if he didn’t WRITE it himself, how is it heartfelt?”

“She doesn’t know he didn’t write it.” Charlotte started to put him on blast, but they needed to have the big conversation and she could always clarify with homegirl, later. There was no way that she was gonna just let that woman be played out by this boy again. 

Henry smiled at Charlotte and Jasper as they approached. “Look who it is! My favorite people!” He cheered and went to hug them. “Got you some flowers,” he said and handed each of them a yellow rose. 

Jasper forced a smile, but looked sad. Charlotte definitely noticed and wondered, “What’s wrong?” She was on the alert and ready to defend him, if need be. He gave her a kiss on the temple and whispered that he’d rather not get into it. “So, whenever Henry and I were… involved, if he did something mean or hurt me, he’d always apologize with yellow roses. He said yellow roses were for apologies to your friend, and since I’m his best friend, he never wanted to let any kinda problems go unchecked or any kind of hurt he caused me to go without apology… When I went to the hospital, he didn’t even come to see me, but he sent me six dozen yellow roses and I honestly thought that I’d never get another from him. I had a lot of feelings when he handed me a single…”*Starts crying and gets up.*

The spa owner got a whole bouquet of various apology flowers, but since they were having a spa day, Henry felt like single yellow roses were the way to go for his company. He knew that Jasper would get it, if nobody else did. Jasper seemed pretty emotional about it. Henry didn’t have the intuition to know whether it was good or bad. Charlotte had the intuition to know that it was a mixture of both, but she didn’t know the context and that irritated her.

Chloe and Bianca showed up, holding hands and laughing together. Chloe had on some open toe shoes and Charlotte looked down and asked, “Getting something done with those feet today?”

Chloe smiled awkwardly and laughed a little, “Should I?”

“It’s up to you,” Charlotte said, then unintentionally, but intentionally looked right at the camera as she tried to stifle a smile. “My mother used to tell me that I had to remember to moisturize so that I wouldn’t be ashy. I didn’t realize that Chloe needed to moisturize too.” 

Bianca said, “Oh, we should TOTALLY get our feet done!”

“I saw a foot mask made especially for crack repairs,” Charlotte suggested. Henry tried really hard to not laugh, realizing that even though her voice was very sweet, that was most likely shade. Chloe’s feet were looking kinda worn.

“Charlotte must have some kind of foot fetish or something. She was REALLY centered on my feet! What people don’t know is that I’m an athlete. I’ve been on multiple reality show challenges and have even won some seasons. So, yes, my feet are a little less feminine than the girl who can’t decide if she’s a singer or a scientist. I’ve actually gotta get out there and grind.”

“Would you like a naked steam room?” The owner asked. Henry looked around at his company. Bianca and Chloe looked down for it. Jasper didn’t seem to care (or maybe he didn’t hear. He was staring at his rose). Whenever Henry made eye contact with Charlotte, she had a raised eyebrow DARING him to say yes.

“I think we’ll be good in one with clothes?” He said, still looking at Charlotte to see if her face changed. She relaxed a little. 

“Robe sizes needed?” 

Charlotte snuggled up to Jasper and wondered, “Are you gonna be okay?”

“Yeah,” He looked up at her and smiled. She was a happy part of life. He didn’t need to dwell on the dark parts. “I was just thinking about how lucky I am now, versus how it could have been, how it used to be.”

She nodded, “Well, you won’t be able to bring that into the steam room. You wanna put it in a locker and I can maybe preserve the petals for you when we get home?”

“No,” he said and tossed it into the trash. “I don’t need to hang on to any of that.”

She didn’t know what any of that meant, but she wrapped her arm around him from the side and leaned up to make him bend down for a kiss. “Jasper threw my rose away. I didn’t know if that meant that he didn’t accept my apology or if it meant that there was nothing to be forgiven, but it hurt to see. But, Charlotte, she kissed hers and she put it away safely. I know that she’s probably gonna save the petals, like she used to… or I hope. I don’t have intuition, like I said. I’m guessing, here.”

.

Charlotte kept her spa shoes on her feet, grateful to have them. Who knew what those roach stompers Chloe had might bring into the room with them? Jasper was sweating before they even got into the room. He and Charlotte sat next to each other, Bianca and Chloe sat across from them and Henry tried to figure out where he might be best seated… He decided across from Charlotte and Jasper, since they were what was really important to him and he wanted to look them in the eyes as they did… whatever would be done here today.

“Okay, so, thank you everybody for coming here today. I don’t want to ruin this place for you, so I sucked it up and apologized to the owner, even though most of that was all in her head. I just want everything out, like I told Jasper. I want to deal with it head on and show everyone that I have changed and I want to introduce you to who I am now. I want you to get to know me, today, as I am… But, I also understand that might not be possible without addressing the shit that I’ve done in the past, to everybody here, really. If anybody has any questions or comments, I am open for them.”

Charlotte looked at Jasper, “You wanna talk to him about something between the two of you?” Maybe, Jasper might open up now that they were having this time together. She knew that he wasn’t okay and all she wanted was for him to be better. This whole thing was more of Henry’s idea, she gathered, to curb his guilt, but if Jasper could benefit from it; she wanted that more than anything she wanted for herself. She must really love that dude, she realized.

Jasper cleared his throat and said, “I’m not that concerned with our past. It ended very miserably for me and I didn’t come here, today, or agree to the show to rehash any of that or relive it. But, I’ve been rehashing and reliving things, and you’ve seemed fine. If I want to know anything, it’s about right now. Right now, what is it that you want, Henry? Why are we all here?”

He said in a very low and soft voice, “I just want you two to love me again.” 

Jasper noticeably, immediately went soft and nodded his head. The answer was good enough for him. “What I think a lot of people don’t understand is that no matter WHAT happened between Henry and I, no matter how he hurt me or how I processed it; we were best friends for most of my life. My dad and his mom used to be super close and we were brought together before either of us were conscious about our surroundings.” *Tears up* “We were… soul mates. However you consider that to be. We were connected at the soul, like one person, for a huge portion of my life - my entire fucked up childhood, there was nobody that treated me better than Henry, and why wouldn’t I forgive him for mistakes that were made when we were young and he was already hurting? Nobody gets to control how I choose to respond with him reaching out and asking for my forgiveness. Maybe that’s stupid. Maybe it’s foolish, but how do you hate a part of yourself forever? Even the less shiny parts, you have to figure out a way to live with, and Henry has been a super shiny part and a super dark part of ME. Not just my life, but a part of me. I’ve carried him in my heart since before I knew what love was. Of course I could love him again. I do love him. I never stopped. I never would stop.”

Charlotte wasn’t as moved in the same direction as Jasper, and to be honest, in hindsight, they probably should have had separate conversations, because seeing Jasper just forgive him in his heart, while he might not have actually said it out loud… that made her heart harder. He noticed the darkening of her features as she glared in Henry’s direction and took her hand and kissed it, trying to smooth her over. Because him loving Henry didn’t take anything away from him loving her. He loved both of them for different reasons, in different ways and he never wanted to be apart from her, no matter what kind of love he had for anyone else. “What did you do to him, Henry? What would make this big hearted, kind spirited person who has always taken mistreatment from loved ones with a grain of salt… What would make him turn against you? I do some things that I’m not proud of to Jasper every single day and he still loves me. We watched his parents not give even pinches of fucks about him all throughout school, and he still loved them. We saw him idolize our boss, who wasn’t really that fond of him for many years, and he loved him… So my suspicious self, my smart self, I have to always wonder what in the world that you did to somebody that I LOVE, with most of my heart to make him not love you?”

“I didn’t stop loving him,” Jasper injected. She gently pulled her hand away. “I only say that to say… The things that you’re saying right now, they’re very triggering and just stirring things up and it's not really like that, so please…”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered and nodded at him, empathetically. He took a deep breath and leaned back. “I didn’t mean to…”

“It’s okay, Babe.”

“Please, don’t do that. I hurt you and I don’t want you to just brush it off, like it didn’t happen. Everyone needs to be held accountable for what they do.”

“Every time somebody hurts someone, it isn’t necessarily on purpose. I think that intent matters,” Jasper said. “I love you, too. I don’t care if you hurt me, because I know that wasn’t your intent.”

“But, you’re still hurt.”

“And you feel remorse for that. Don’t beat yourself up.” He hugged her. She was soft, but she was still wondering, “Seriously, what did he do to my man to have him in the bad way that I’ve heard he was in after they broke up?”

Charlotte heard one of the other two girls mumble something and her head snapped in their direction so fast that they both startled. “Did you have something to add? To help out? He didn’t say anything about wanting your love, so what’s the tea? Why are YOU TWO here? Oh, yeah, to discuss your part in all the bullshit.”

Bianca cleared her throat and said, “I was simply saying that you two are so good together that I don’t know why you even care about what Henry wants, at this point.”

“I thought that me and Henry were good together at some point too, but you didn’t right? And that’s fine, you’re entitled to feel how you feel and do what you do. You’re grown, you were grown at the time, and you weren’t involved with me, so I never came at you or confronted you or anything like that. But you, both of you, came over to our place, smiled in my face, played nice with me, and both of you weren’t about shit, behind my back.”

Bianca scoffed a chuckle and said, “Well, we were all pretty young when all of that happened. I had recently learned that you were the one who initially suggested that Henry ask me out, and Chloe felt some kind of way about it…”

Chloe threw in, “Henry and I hadn’t officially broken up, but you were pretty accepting of another girl being brought into his life, back then.”

“GIRL! You are really here, sitting here telling me that the reason you were disrupting my love life was because of something that happened when we were in school?” Charlotte cackled, but there was a terrifying anger in it. “BITCH. PLEASE.”

“Well, today, it’s like 6 or 7 years since that happened and you’re still mad. For me, at the time, it had been maybe about the same amount of time, I was younger, and I thought that Henry had just moved on because of distance, when really, he moved on because you pressured him to move on. I wasn’t even mad that I had lost Henry, but when I found out, I was hurt about it, so I wasn’t that concerned about your relationship, just as you hadn’t been concerned about mine. We’re ALL older and wiser now and I’ve moved on.”

“You’ve moved on because you didn’t have something important taken from you. You had the chance to go be on TV or be with Henry and like any kid would, you went with TV. Henry had a crush on Bianca and I, as a friend, supported that. When you left, in my head, that was that. What you did to me, we were grown and Henry and I were in a REAL relationship. And to this day, I’ve never come at you about it or anything. So, for me to be trying to console Jasper, who was SUPPOSED to be your friend and for you two to be having a little side conversation, ah kee keeing and shit… Man, fuck y’all. Y’all are so fake. To this day. You’re both some fakes and Jasper deserves better friends.” Charlotte was fuming.

Henry finally spoke up and said, “It was my fault. I shouldn’t have been airing out things to Bianca, but when that started, you and I were having some issues and I couldn’t talk to Jasper or any of our mutual friends about it, and I didn’t really have a lot of alternatives.”

“So, fuck me?” Charlotte asked and laughed sarcastically.

“At the time, I was worried that talking to you about it wouldn’t be received properly. So, I started talkin’ to Bianca, and a few things came out - that weren’t necessarily secrets, but stuff we had never talked about. I was actually speaking pretty generally about it all when I told her that you were the one that encouraged me to ask her out, and she told me that she’d kissed Kid Danger when we were together and I told her that wasn’t important anymore and we just were chilling and laughing and connecting. I didn’t expect it to turn emotional. I didn’t expect her to talk to Chloe about what she’d learned. Whenever Chloe asked me about it, I very nonchalantly told her the truth and it was years before, so like you said, we were kids, I didn’t think anything of it. But, I didn’t know that she felt hurt to find that out. Sometimes, we hold on to things that happen, not specifically because of that event or the person involved, but because of other things in our makeup.”

“Okay, but if she was still feeling a way, she could have said, ‘Hey Charlotte, I know this was a long time ago, but it’s fresh to me, because I just found out that you openly supported my first boyfriend moving on while I was away for a little while, and I’m having trouble feeling okay about that.’ We could’ve discussed it. Not… started a group chat with the two of you to fish for information about our problems and then deliberately try to drag me.”

“It wasn’t like that,” Chloe said.

“I read the entire thread. It took me hours, because it was months of inappropriate things. You started it off with a little disparaging joke about how you three could be the Charlotte is the Blame Club. Bianca had told you about my “prude problems,” and you wanted to let Hen know that you two were there for him, if he needed to blow off any steam. “Emphasis on blow, lol.” 

Chloe was speechless. She didn’t even remember most of that chat, but apparently it had mattered to Charlotte. 

Bianca said, “I promise, it was completely innocent, in the beginning. We thought it was kinda funny that you two dated so long and you didn’t do certain things for him.”

“It's nobody’s business what hangups that I have, but since everybody’s business is out right now, I will say this, I wasn’t able to slut around when I was young. My mother tried to be supportive of me being sexually aware, but long story short, she was very sexually wholesome and I didn’t do anything with anybody until Henry. So, yes, it took me a while to get into the habit of things. This boy didn’t even wash his legs whenever we got together, so no, as a science minded person who understands how germs 

work and shit, I didn’t wanna be doing a lot of risky stuff with him. And whenever I WOULD do something, I had to be sure everything was clean and clear and ready. Henry was the one who didn’t feel like “going through all of that for a BJ.’ Okay. That was his choice, just like it was my choice to not get ball sweat or ball hair anywhere near my face and mouth area! Maybe you’re fine with musty nuts in yours. I wasn’t. And that was MY. BUSINESS. With MY. BOYFRIEND. But, it's not your fault that he told you that. It WAS your fault that you shared it with Chloe, because if he wanted to share our business, okay, but why did you feel like you could share it?”

“Because I didn’t give a damn, Charlotte!” Bianca snapped. “I’m sorry that early college years, I didn’t care about privacy or things like that. It sounded like a scandal and it was humorous to me. I didn’t know that it would become what it became, which, even right now, wasn’t anything very important to me. It was a part of my life as a young adult. I’m sorry that it affected you like it did. I truly am. You seem like you were very kind to Henry and I feel like what we did made you less kind. I’m sorry that I helped you become this bitter person…”

“BITCH…” *Camera shakes and moves around through a lot of shuffling and winds up on Charlotte, getting tackled by the security* “This bitch got me injured. Couldn’t even angrily speak my mind without being seen as a threat.”

Jasper was pulling on the guard, “Get the fuck off of her! She didn’t DO anything!” Charlotte was screaming, in pain and Henry was signaling to cut the camera. The camera didn’t stop. They might need the footage. Chloe and Bianca had rushed to the other side of the sauna and Henry and Jasper were both fussing with the guard. “You get the fuck out, You’re fired. Hell no! You don’t get to grab her like that, are you serious?” 

“What is happening?” the owner of the spa asked from the doorway.

The guard said, “She was about to attack, and that’s where I have to step in. It’s my job.”

“SHE STOOD UP AND WALKED TOWARDS HER!” Henry yelled, at the same time Jasper yelled, “SHE DIDN’T EVEN TOUCH HER!” They were both yelling about how Charlotte sometimes gets in your face, but she wasn’t violent and threatening to press charges and insisting that he left immediately before he got his ass kicked. They heard Charlotte groaning and went to check on her. 

“I’m pretty sure he bruised my ribs,” she said crying. “Whenever the guard tackled Charlotte, everything happened so fast that I froze for a moment. But, when I snapped to… This motherfucker, a big grown man, had slammed my girlfriend onto a hard tile floor, crushing her and pinning her down in the process, and… I have never been more pissed in my entire goddamned life.”

“Whenever the person I hired tackled Charlotte for essentially standing up while angry, I felt responsible for that. She was hurt. It wasn’t as serious as it could’ve been, but he’s got size on her and the situation - you see a tiny woman, in a bathrobe, in a steam room approaching another woman, you can easily step in front of her and maybe ask her to step back. Tackling her was so unnecessary and infuriating.”

“I was in so much pain. I hit my tailbone on that tile, and my elbow. I bumped my head when I reflexively tried to get away and he slammed me back down telling me to hold still. If they show that footage, you’ll probably see my entire puss. He had me straddled, restrained and bruised me up pretty bad, including how hard he pinned me down. I looked like somebody beat the hell out of me and I felt like it. Because I dared to walk in a white girl’s direction while Black and pissed.” *Sighs hard and shakes her head.

Charlotte was hurt enough that she just wanted medical attention and didn’t care how that happened. Henry and Jasper took her to the ER and once she was treated, Henry insisted that she stay at the brownstone to recover. It had more room, and was more luxurious and she accepted. She was going to be resting and taking meds. Jasper collected her stuff from home to bring over. “You wanna stay? I have much more room than I need, or even two people,” Henry said.

“No. I’ll let you two try to work some things out while she heals. Maybe it can be a double healing. If she asks me to come to stay, then I’ll take you up on the offer. I think she’s just trying to process the attack by herself and I’m glad that you’re providing a safe space for her to do that.”

Henry nodded. “I can’t believe that happened.”

“I can’t believe that we didn’t kill him,” Jasper said. “But, then I’d be in prison and she’d still be injured.”

“Yeah, I might pay him a visit in the suit later. Asshole.”

Jasper nodded. “Well… I’ll have my phone right by me and on the loudest setting if she needs me. Take care of my bae.”

“I’ll take care of her like she’s mine.”

“Not… That much,” Jasper said and partially smiled. 

“We didn’t really finish the conversation…”

“We did. Sorry it didn’t happen how you hoped, but… I think she at least feels a little more trusting now. She’s staying here, isn’t she? Just… work with what you’ve got. I’d love for the two of you to patch things up. I miss the three of us.” Jasper and Henry hugged and Jasper left. 

Henry peeked in on Charlotte. She was passed out, asleep and medicated. Jasper had set her things in certain places that Henry was sure were how she must’ve liked them. Jasper was really good at stuff like that. “Sweet dreams, Char,” he softly told her.

“Night,” she said, mostly in her sleep.