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blackthoughtsbyhfil · 2 months ago

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Under hösten för tio år sedan, när jag hade gott om fritid och ont om pengar, tänkte jag mig att den ideala tillvaron vore att vakna upp varje morgon lindrigt fyllsjuk.

Under denna höst, när jag har gott om pengar och nästan ingen fritid, mötte jag en manifestation av den framtid jag föreställt mig för ett decennium sedan. En medelålders man, med slitna kläder och rufsigt hår men renrakad, satt och skyfflade i sig currypasta i en liten krog nära Björkhagen. Klockan var strax efter elva på förmiddagen och han var redan påtagligt berusad trots att krogen öppnade så sent som klockan tio. Under tiden jag satt där, åt pizza och drack en öl medan jag arbetade lite grann fortsatte han att hinka i sig öl. Jag kämpade med koncentrationen på mitt arbete när jag var tvungen att lyssna på hans narcissistiska skitsnack med sina sorgliga kamrater som allteftersom samlades vid hans hörna för att fyllna till och klaga på att socialen var sen med deras stålar. Jag var likafullt djupt ångerfull över att jag valt att också sitta där på en sådan sylta och dricka öl bland dessa fallna män. Vad säger det om mig?

Den här mannens bara delvis ovårdade yttre förde förstås fram tanken att han föreföll vara en direkt vidareutveckling av jaget jag försökte fostra tio år tidigare. Trots att jag under hela mitt liv har sett och till och med fått följa vuxna män med ett fullt utblommat alkoholmissbruk har jag inte före denna dag sett det som sannolikt att min relation till drickande skulle ännu kunna leda till att själv bli detta praktvrak i Björkhagen. När jag förbereder mig för en lekstund utomhus med barnet - som ännu är för ungt för att berätta för någon vad jag sysslar med - räknar jag med minst en stor stark varje halvtimme. På min första vabbdag upprätthöll jag ett milt rödvinsrus från lunch till middag. När jag på sommaren försvinner ned i källaren i sommarhuset för att hämta dagens första öl, sveper jag öl nummer noll på vägen upp för att bana väg för nummer ett. Jag har alltid varit medveten om att mitt förhållningssätt till drickande inte är hållbart; ändå har det hållit i tio år. Frågan är bara om jag någonsin kommer att kunna dricka en svensk stor stark igen utan att skämmas för att komma en öl närmare mardrömmen jag skådade i Söderort.

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annie-arizona · 4 months ago

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Warm Water, Winter Winds | Prologue

Summary: What happens when love isn't enough anymore?

Warnings: swearing

Length: 2k words

Pairing: Zach Hannah x Annie Williams (Female OC)

Prologue

December 15, 2022

4:32 a.m.

That was the time on her phone when she heard the sound of Zach’s key in the lock. The numbers glared at her, cold and accusing, from the screen resting on the dining table. The room was dim, save for the weak light spilling in from the street outside. Her eyes remained focused on her long-cold mug of tea, its steam having vanished hours ago, much like the warmth and peace she used to feel in this space. She listened, fuming silently as she heard Zach lean down to pull his boots off with a grunt. The faint sound of them hitting the floor echoed through the house, followed by the unmistakable shuffle of his worn-out steps as he moved further inside.

He still hadn’t noticed her sitting there. She had been waiting since just after 11 p.m., ever since Dave called, asking if Zach was with her. Her hands gripped the edge of the table, knuckles white, as each passing minute since then had only fueled her simmering anger.

Annie sat stalk-still in her chair at their dining table, every muscle in her body tense, her pulse quickening as she prepared for what felt like an inevitable confrontation. Zach’s footsteps moved into the kitchen, and the sound of him rummaging through the cupboards grated on her already frayed nerves. She remained completely silent as he turned on the kitchen light, the sudden brightness illuminating the space and casting long shadows. His hand fumbled for a glass.

When he finally turned and saw her, he flinched.

“Fuckin’ hell, Annie!” His voice was groggy and surprised, his hazel eyes wide with shock. “You scared the shit out of me.”

Annie didn’t move. She kept her gaze steady on him, her expression a calm mask hiding the storm inside her.

The question was simple, her voice firm but quiet as she lifted her head to watch him. “Who is she?”

Zach froze, his hand holding the glass hovering near the bottle of bourbon he’d retrieved from the counter. His brow furrowed, lips pressed into a thin line as if her words hadn’t quite registered. “What’re you talkin’ about?” he finally asked, his back still turned toward her as he began pouring a drink.

Annie’s heart pounded in her chest, her anger flaring even hotter at his dismissive tone. “Who’re you fucking?” she repeated, her voice betraying a slight tremble as she struggled to control the fury bubbling just beneath the surface. “It’s 4 a.m., Z. Where the hell’ve you been all night?”

Zach sighed, as if her question was the most exhausting thing in the world to him. He finished pouring his drink, then turned to face her, leaning back against the counter with his glass in hand. His eyes met hers, but there was no apology in them, no hint of the love she used to see so easily. Just irritation.

“I’m not fucking anyone but you,” he replied, the words simple and matter-of-fact. He took a sip, staring her down over the rim of his glass. “And you know where I’ve been. At the studio, workin’, trying to get this fuckin’ record finished.”

“Skitsnack,” Annie spat in Swedish, her mother's tongue, leaning back in her chair as she crossed her arms tightly over her chest. “Dave called hours ago looking for you. Said everyone left at 10.”

They had been working late nights, putting the finishing touches on their third album before its release, but this was the first time he had come home this late. Combined with the decline in his mental health that she had noticed over the past few weeks and the fact that he refused to discuss it with her, she was at the end of her rope.

Zach drained his glass with another sigh, set it down heavily on the counter, and reached for the bottle to pour more. “Yeah, and I went back after I got something to eat. There’s fuckin’ cameras at the studio, you don’t believe me?”

“I don’t know what to believe anymore!” Annie’s voice was sharp, cutting through the silence that had settled between them. She stared daggers at him, hating how he didn’t seem to understand why she was upset, why this—his late nights, his distance, his evasiveness—was breaking her. “You don’t talk to me,” she continued, her voice rising. “You promised you wouldn’t shut me out again, but that’s exactly what you’re doing!”

Zach threw his head back, exasperated, and stared at the ceiling for a long moment before his gaze dropped back to hers. “I’m busy and fuckin’ exhausted. Sorry I don’t always wanna talk.”

Annie’s heart clenched painfully at his words. She had heard this before, so many times, always the same excuse. And every time, she forgave him. But not this time. This time, she wasn’t going to let him brush her off.

She stood up abruptly, the chair scraping loudly against the floor as she crossed the room, setting her cold mug in the sink beside where Zach was standing. She didn’t flinch as she met his eyes again, her green ones burning with emotion. “What do you want from me, Hannah?”

Zach pushed off the counter, standing to his full height, his broad frame tense as he squared his shoulders. “Patience,” he replied, his voice quieter now, more controlled, but there was an edge of frustration to it. “You know how I get better than anyone. But more than anything, I just want you.”

Annie’s breath caught in her throat. His words were always the same, always hollow and distant, and yet, every time he said them, part of her wanted to believe him. But not this time. This time, it felt different. This time, it felt like they were standing on the edge of something they couldn’t come back from.

“No, you don’t,” Annie said, her voice thick with anger and hurt. She shook her head, her blonde hair falling in loose waves over her shoulders. “You want a warm body. Every time something gets hard, you bail.”

Zach’s eyes flared with anger, the mask of indifference he had been wearing cracking ever so slightly. “That’s not fuckin’ fair,” he muttered, his jaw tight. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

“Physically, maybe,” Annie shot back, her voice rising again. “But you’ve been checked out for months, Zach. You’re always at the studio, or with the guys, or buried in some project. You don’t even see me anymore.”

“I see you,” he snapped, his voice sharp now, defensive. He took a step toward her, his hazel eyes flashing. “You’re my girl, Annie. You know that.”

Annie’s heart twisted painfully at his words. My girl. It was the same thing he always said when he wanted to smooth things over, to avoid having a real conversation. But she was tired of being his girl when he wasn’t her Zach anymore.

“No, I don’t know that,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “Not anymore.”

Zach stared at her for a long moment, his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths. He looked like he wanted to say something, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, he just stood there, holding his glass, the distance between them feeling like a chasm too wide to cross.

Annie bit her lip, fighting the tears that threatened to spill. She had spent so long loving this man, standing by his side through every high and low, every success and failure. She had given him everything, but it was never enough. It was never enough for him to let her in, to trust her, to lean on her the way she had always leaned on him.

“I can’t keep doing this,” she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Zach’s eyes snapped to hers, panic flickering across his face for the first time. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” Annie swallowed hard, her throat tight, “I can’t keep being in a relationship where I’m constantly waiting for you to show up. I need more than this. I need more than late nights and half-hearted promises.”

Zach’s face hardened. “So what, you’re leaving?”

Annie felt her heart crack, the pieces of it splintering into a thousand shards. “I don’t want to, Zach,” she said, her voice breaking. “But I can’t keep feeling like I’m the only one fighting for this.”

Zach’s hand tightened around his glass, his knuckles white. He took a step closer to her, his voice low and dangerous. “You think I’m not fighting?”

“No. I think you’ve already given up,” Annie whispered, her eyes glistening with unshed tears.

Zach stared at her, his expression unreadable. For a moment, she thought he might say something, anything to make her stay, to convince her that he still cared. But instead, he just turned away, downing the rest of his drink in one gulp before slamming the glass down on the counter. “Fine,” he muttered, his voice cold and distant. “Go.”

Annie’s breath hitched in her throat. She had hoped, desperately, that he would fight for her, that he would tell her that she was wrong, that he still loved her. But instead, he was letting her walk away.

She turned on her heel, her vision blurred by tears as she moved toward the door. Her heart ached with every step, her hands shaking as she reached for the handle. But just as she was about to pull it open, Zach’s voice stopped her.

“You’re not the only one who’s been hurting, Annie.”

Annie froze, her hand still on the doorknob. She turned slowly, her eyes meeting Zach’s across the room. He was leaning against the counter, his head bowed, his shoulders slumped. He looked defeated, broken in a way she had never seen before.

“You think I don’t know what I’ve been doing?” Zach’s voice was raw, filled with pain and frustration. “I know I’ve fucked up. I know I’ve been shutting you out. But you’re the only thing that keeps me going. You’re the only thing that makes any of this shit worth it.”

Annie’s heart clenched, her tears flowing freely now as she listened to his words. She had waited so long to hear him say something like this, to acknowledge how much he had been hurting her, how much he had been hurting himself. But now that he was finally saying it out loud, it felt too late.

“Then why didn’t you say that?” she asked, her voice trembling.

Zach shook his head, his eyes filled with a sadness that mirrored her own. “Because I didn’t know how.”

Annie took a step toward him, her anger melting away, replaced by a deep, aching sadness. She had loved this man with everything she had, and for so long, she had believed that love was enough to fix them. But now, standing here in the wreckage of their relationship, she realized that love wasn’t always enough.

“I love you, Zach,” she whispered, her voice breaking.

Zach’s eyes met hers, and for the first time in months, she saw the man she had fallen in love with, the man who had once made her feel like the center of his world. His face softened, his hazel eyes filled with regret and longing.

“I love you too, Annie,” he said, his voice hoarse.

But even as the words hung in the air between them, Annie knew now that love alone couldn’t fix what was broken. They were too far gone, too lost in their own pain and struggles to find their way back to each other.

Annie wiped her tears, her heart heavy as she took one last look at the man she had loved for so long. “Goodbye, Zach,” she whispered.

Zach didn’t respond. He just stood there, watching her leave, the sound of the door closing behind her echoing through the house.

Annie stepped out into the cold night, the weight of the world pressing down on her shoulders. She had walked away from the love of her life, and in doing so, she had left a part of herself behind. But as she climbed into her car and drove away, she knew that this was the only way to save herself.

And maybe, just maybe, it was the only way to save him too.

#A R I Z O N A #rpf #fanfic

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ankiflygarenilsson · 5 months ago

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NSD 240725

NSD 240725 - Anki Flygare-Nilsson (tumblr.com)

Det var bättre förr, ja faktiskt, det uttrycket håller än idag. Förr var det lite besvärligare att djävlas, bråka, sprida elakheter och lögner ty vad hade man tillhands, jo telefonen, ja den vanliga väggfasta telefonen antingen med rullskiva eller knappar, med den var du tvungen att slå numret för att få kontakt med någon, svarar inte någon, ja då kanske telefonsvararen gick igång och du kunde läsa in ett meddelande. Fick du kontakt, ja då var det ju inte för att bråka med den på andra sidan tråden utan bara ville höra hur allt är och går. Sedan kunde man ju skriva brev men det var ju lite krångligare så det gjorde man ju inte i onödan och om du var på bråkhumör skulle skulle det ju ta ca en vecka innan bråket nådde mottagaren. Nyare tider kom, datorn kom, mejlen föddes och vips kunde man säga saker på ett snabbt och smidigt sätt, elakheter började florera, lögner spreds med vinden via ADSL och WIFI. Jahapp då kom mobiltelefonen, först fungerade den som en telefon, sen blev den smartare och smartare och vips blev den ett näraliggande elakt krigiskt vapen i de sämsta av världar. Idag sväller sociala medier i allehanda nyanser ut mer och mer och lögner sprids som maskrosfrön i vinden. Många blir trakasserade, trampade på, elakt förtalade, listan blir lång. Skulle den mobbade individen mötas öga mot öga med den som mobbar, ja då skulle inte mobbaren vara så tuff och modet skulle inte vara så stort, nä hellre gömma sig bakom ett tangentbord för att använda det som vapen och gnida sina händer "…nu ska jag djävlas med dig, nu ska jag blockera dig, nu ska jag visa att jag gillar alla andra men inte dig, nu ska jag trakassera dig, nu ska du tryckas ner så långt det bara går, härligt att jag inte behöver visa mig när jag gör det….". Och kontentan är "Inte underligt att det är krig i världen när inte ens en liten skara kan hålla sams" och framförallt lyssna inte på alla som gillar att sprida felaktigheter, allt skitsnack som florerar, tro inte på alla lögner bara för att du vill tro på dessa. Du måste lära dig att gallra. Lär dig kärnans innebörd. Fler Dalali lamor i världen och det vore underbart att leva.

Anki Flygare-Nilsson, Boden

https://etidning.nsd.se/p/norrlandska-socialdemokraten/2024-07-25/a/den-nya-tekniken-sprider-elakheterna-snabbt/1977/1504797/53861439

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