#so anyways <3 The Breath Mints. were so close but alas. ALAS. we did not win it all despite even though we had our best season on record

[taketheringtolohac]

The Breath Mints. lost in the first round of the playoffs yet again, which is disappointing but i think there needs to be attention paid to HOW we did it.

it’s a pitchers duel between Mindy Kugel and Winnie Hess. both great pitchers, both underhanded, it’s honestly pretty evenly matched between the mechs 2 batters left and the rest of KC and it’s the fifth game of the series- whoever wins will make it to the semi-finals.

its the bottom of the second and theres been no hits, but suddenly! a recently chomped Marco Stink hits a dinger! classic for the bug! however this is BAD, Mindy has underhanded, but not to worry! He strategically hits it into one of the Meadow’s big buckets and it effectively makes it 0 runs. score’s still 0-0 and its fine. doing great.

the rest of the game is tense, theres hardly been any hits on EITHER side and we’ve made it to the top of the 9th and there’s STILL been barely any hits. but Winnie’s never been great under pressure. she is often scared of plastic bags that come tumbling through the field, horses are just like that, and sometimes, she gets startled. but Winnie, a creature of habit, does what she does best, and Gurgie’s Gia Holbrook.

now you may be thinking, well that’s fine! Winnie gets gurgies! Blood for the Blood Horse! 

well, while this is usually the case, this PARTICULAR series was the WORST time to Gurgie. The Mech’s have a team modification from their evolution prior to the breach called Maintenance Mode, which means that whenever someone has been impaired on their team that team will get a fourth out for the REST OF THE GAME. 

Winnie, realizing what she’s done, tries to hold it together, but she can’t. She’s trying to figure out how to fix it and she lets in two singles from a scattered Adelaide Judochop. There’s two outs on the board and she just has to keep it together, but she lets up a double from Gia and they score a SINGLE run. its not too bad, she can come back from this. two more outs is all she needs, the batters can get one run she’s sure of it, and she throws the ball. she’s watching it go and Adelaide hits a sacrifice bunt to Jode Preston. Two Runs. she’s trying to keep it together on the field but she gets a little sloppy, luckily its a flyout from Gia to end the inning.

It’s up to the batters now, and the pressure is ON. Jode hits a single to start out the inning, she’s not here to play games she’s here to WIN. Twooney’s up to bat, she’s had a rough go of it these past few days- her hittings fine but she’s still a bit shaken from her near death experience the final day of the regular season and just how CLOSE of a call it was- but she steps up to the plate and hits the ball! She reaches on fielders choice, not what she wanted but she’ll take it. Marco’s up to bat, she watches him get strike after strike and hit two fouls, but she’s BUBBLING with energy. She’s DESPERATE for this win, an outlet to try and overcome her anxieties and how much she just wants to PROVE she can win this game. She steals second, the crowd goes wild and Marco looks at her wide eyed as he strikes out. It’s up to Kina, ey’re not a great hitter but Twooney knows shi can do it. Kina racks up two strikes, and Twooney can feel that itch coming back. Mindy throws a ball and Kina looks worried, Twooney takes a deep breath and BOLTS to third- and she MAKES IT. She looks at Kina, and smiles. It’s up to hir now. Kina steadies herself and looks Mindy right in the eye and...

HITS A SINGLE, GETTING TWOONEY IN TO GET THE BREATH MINTS ON THE BOARD.

Kina’s on first, leaving the Val Games replica to take em home but it doesn’t pan out like the Mints had hoped. The game ends 2-1.

Now the THING is, had this been a normal game, the Mechs SHOULD have lost. If Winnie hadn’t gurgied, the Mechs wouldn’t have been able to hit the sacrifice bunt that got them the second (winning) run of the game and it would’ve gone into extra innings. And what’s more, had Mindy not been underhanded The Breath Mints would’ve WON that game 3-2 ANYWAYS. it really was just a series of unfortunate circumstances (and the Mechs superb pitching combined with their two player star line up) that made the mints lose again.

But god. What a game.

[cheolliewrites]

Waiting for Midnight - Prologue

1,427 word count | idol Hoshi x Guardian Angel reader A prologue for a social media au series

“I promise it won’t happen again!” you cried, chasing after the Guardian of Angels.

It was past midnight, and you followed your superior through a grim and cave-like entrance that hides the stairway to the gates of the Almighty. You knew very well that you aren’t allowed to enter the place, but in a desperate attempt, you had to follow.

You caught up behind your superior and held onto his glowing white robes, making him turn around and look at you harshly with his piercing silver eyes. “Please give me one more chance,” you begged, voice sounding weak and cracked.

His gaze continues to pierce through you, and you continued to plead him. But the man with the silver eyes and long ice-white beard showed no sympathy to your distress. “Please,” you rubbed your palms together.

He sighs and looks behind him, deliberating whether he should walk through the gates of the Almighty to terminate your guardianship or to show you compassion. Then he looks at you, and then he looks back one more time before harshly grabbing your wrist to pull you down the stairs and to the side.

“You revealed yourself to your human in attempt to save her, but she still died before her Final Day under your guardianship,” he growled, pointing his finger at you. You couldn’t bear to look at him. “Give me one good reason as to why I shouldn’t terminate your guardianship.”

Words didn’t come out of your mouth. Death came and took all your soul and left you with only grief and tears. Only then did you realize that your desperation was an empty shell.

This was how she felt when she was alive.

“She told me that there are just some people in this world that you couldn’t save, no matter who you may be,” your voice cracked as you placed a hand over your chest, surprised over the unfamiliar pain you feel inside. “She told me that people just can’t be saved unless you understood their pain.”

When you look up, you notice how his eyes begin to water. But he closes his eyes and blinks back the tears, “And so what? You want another chance to understand humans? See if you could save the next one?” It was clear that he was furious with you.

“And what happens if you can’t save the next one?” He challenges you, eyes sharp and gaze unshaken.

“It won’t happen again,” you whisper, “I’ll learn to love the next one and guide them as if it were her.”

He tries to stand still with his arms crossed, face clear with disappointment and anger. But after a while, he struggles to keep his composure. He groans and takes a step closer, “All right,” he whispers rather intimidatingly, “I’ll give you one last chance.”

Suddenly, it felt as if you had a living heart that jumped out of your chest.

“But if you so desperately want to understand humans, then you have to be human yourself.”

Your imaginary heart jumped out of your chest and fell to the underworld. “What?” You whispered back in disbelief.

“Come with me,” He says as he grabs your wrist and leads you outside the cave-like entrance and back into the quiet little village in the middle of busking Seoul city. In the realm of humans, the Guardian of Angels no longer had a long white beard and glowing robes.

Instead, his white hair was freckled with grey strands and put up in a man bun. He wore a black shirt, jeans, and what looked like a faded and worn brown leather jacket. And his eyes were no longer silver but plain old black. Oddly, he also smelled like smoke and mint. 

You looked down at yourself and realized that you were no longer wearing robes as well but a dress that was like the ones your previous human loved to wear. With an unsteady breath, you nervously turned your head to peek at what would be your ultimate nightmare.

“Yes, your wings are gone.” He states the obvious for you while he continues to drag you along with him to who knows where, “Starting tonight, you are human. And you see this?”

He stops in the middle of the empty street to lift your hand up and show you your wrist. Like magic, a mark was slowly burning into your skin. You tried to yank your hand back as you winced in pain, but he held it tightly in his grip.

He shows you a mark on your wrist that was tainted with white lines, “These are the wings that only you and other angels like me could see.” He lifts his wrist and shows you the same mark on his, “It reminds us in this human world that we are celestial beings.”

You nodded slowly, taking your wrist back to look at it. With your other hand, you traced the white lines that formed the wings on your wrist. But it didn’t take you a while to observe your marking as he grabbed your wrist once again and dragged you along the street. “Where are we going?” You asked, feeling a little uneasy.

“To meet someone that I used to know,” He says, suddenly smiling as he stopped in front of a tiny little café. Before you could voice your curiosity, he reached out, yank the door open, and ushered you inside.

Behind the counter, you see an old lady wearing an apron. She was holding a basket filled with pastries that she kept from the display rack. Your superior whistles softly behind you, calling the attention of the lady who finally sees you.

She drops the basket on the table and hurries around it with tongs in her hand. Your superior greets her with open arms, but she, on the other hand, stands on her tippy toes to raise her arm and hit your superior’s head with the tongs that she was holding.

A gasp behind you makes you turn around to see a boy dressed in black winter clothes sitting in the corner table. His platinum blonde hair was peeping through the hood, but you couldn’t see his face as he was wearing a black mask. He bows shyly at you as if he were intimidated to see you staring.

You bow slightly and turned back around, only to see your superior being dragged by the hair to the back of the café. It was your instinct to silently follow them.

You didn’t understand what they were bickering about, but alas, the lady finally calmed down and your superior started fixing his man bun.

“So, this is Anne,” Your superior exhales, putting a hand on Anne’s shoulder, “She’s not a celestial. But she offers tea, coffee, and more for both celestials and humans. You’ll be working with her so that you’d be able to provide for your... human needs.”

She smiles warmly at you, and you smile back. But her smile doesn’t last long as your superior starts rummaging through her kitchen cabinets, “Aha,” he laughs as he found what he was looking for, “Use this phone to contact me and do whatever humans do on it. It’s what I use whenever I need to stay in the human realm.”

You took the phone in your hands and nodded. Unlocking it and swiping left and right on the home screen. The device and the applications weren’t unfamiliar to you as you constantly see how your previous human used it.

“Anyway, I have to go now. Do you have any questions, though?” He faces you and places both his hands on your shoulders, making sure that your full attention was on him.

“Um yeah,” you cleared your throat, “When will I turn back into... you know, who I used to be?”

He chuckles and shakes you up a little bit by the shoulders. He knew that you were a little nervous for your new mission, “When your new human finds the strength to hold on a little longer and figures out how to live without your earthly guidance, then it’s time to come home.”

“How will I know when he’s ready?”

Your superior gives you a small smile, “Your mark will start to fade, and that’s when you know that he no longer needs to borrow your wings to fly.”

You gulp, nodding and staring silently at the small angel wings that were marked on your wrist. Your superior takes his hands off your shoulders and turns to hug Anne and say his goodbyes.

He waves at you and head towards the door, then stopping as if he had forgotten something. “Oh,” He chuckles, “Your new human’s name is Kwon Hoshi. He’s also an idol, just like your previous human.”

Waiting for Midnight - Epilogue

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contains: 💬🤍🌪☁️💿🪐 paring: idol!Hoshi x Guardian Angel reader spotify playlist: Waiting for Midnight Plot:

At risk of losing your guardianship, you are forced to take form of a baker who works across Pledis Entertainment to closely guard your new human, Kwon Hoshi, a bubbly idol who often visits at midnight with heavy thoughts clouding his mind. 

A/N:

Today was really the perfect day to publish Waiting for Midnight. Many of us remembered Jonghyun and his comforting lyrics, the sky in my city was crying from morning ‘til night, and we’re finally starting with a fresh new story in this blog!

This series won’t be as frequently updated as She’s Exquisite since classes will be resuming soon and I’ll be working on my business plan and implementation already :( but I’ll make sure to update the series every 3 or 4 days! So, I hope you guys will continue to look forward to the incoming chapters🤍

Taglist: (reply, dm, or ask to be tagged!)

@simplewonderland @lightsaber1397 @samemagicpoint @noniesgirl @vibecheckvernon @dy-mglzz @svteeeen @allthtyazz @minghaoist @minghaofilm @hazelbean13 @swimmingismywholelife @skylions-den @beomiebear5 @monstathedisco @worshiphoseok @mingyuahjumma @unmanageable-day @changbinniee @seungsanhun @baby-sungshine @haikyuu-carat @soonwoolover @multinines--xx @wispcoup @kwonscafe @anjcia @multistanfics @rosiexq @fluffyhyeju @ryuyalana​

[pointy-hat-witch]

iwaoi 17

17 - kiss to distract

ahh thank you so much!!

you can still ask for more prompts!!

------

As soon as the rest of the team left the club room, Iwaizumi wasn’t sure anymore if this was a good idea. Like, yes, he considered himself Oikawa’s closest friend and they pretty much were always the last ones to leave and spent the rest of the day together. However, considering Iwaizumi had to make an effort to no let Oikawa go home, Iwaizumi questioned his ability to pretend normalcy.

“You still not ready, Iwa-chan?” Oikawa singsonged and out of reflex, Iwaizumi threw his jacket at him.

“Shut up, Shittykawa.” Grunting, he put the rest of his sportswear in his bag.

“Mean!” Oikawa pouted, but it didn’t last long until his lips spread into a grin again. “So?”

“So what?” Iwaizumi deadpanned as he retrieved his jacket and pushed it in with the rest of his clothes. Future Iwaizumi will have to deal with the mess he made. When he looked back up, Oikawa had crossed his arms in front of him, lower lip pushed out almost comically.

“What are your plans?” Oikawa tapped his foot impatiently on the floor but Iwaizumi just cocked his eyebrow unimpressed.

“What’s up with you? Dunno”, shrugging Iwaizumi left the club room, waiting for Oikawa to follow him. There weren’t many choices, he realized. They couldn’t go to eat something, even though they both were probably pretty hungry after training. Neither could they just go home, that was the whole point in “distracting Oikawa from going home” plan, Hanamaki and Matsukawa so graciously came up and pushed onto Iwaizumi.

Oikawa walked out the door, pulling it close after him before locking it. He turned the doorknob two times to be sure it was closed, then made a half-turn facing Iwaizumi again, this time with a small scowl.

“Iwa-chan. You know what date today is. Don’t play dumb with me.”

Iwaizumi shrugged again and started descending the stairs. “It’s Thursday, right? Did I forget something?” Unable to hold back, Iwaizumi’s lips split into a grin. Thankfully he had already turned his back to Oikawa, who stumped after him, shoving his shoulder playfully.

“Treat me to dinner!” He whined, pressing his shoulder between Iwaizumi’s shoulder plates. With a grunt, Iwaizumi straightened, pushing Oikawa away from him.

“Why should I? I’m not even hungry.”

“Liar!” Pointing his finger almost right up his nose, Oikawa made a disbelieving face. “You’re the hungriest person after training I know! And you know I am super hungry after working out, so don’t you dare play this card.”

Iwaizumi bit his lip. Oikawa knew him too well. And he was hungry, for god’s sake. Why did they have to plan a dinner for his birthday party at his place anyway? That was the stupidest idea their teammates could have come up with. But he probably was even more stupid that he agreed to that in the first place.

“Wanna have some ice cream then?” Iwaizumi relented. They both needed something in their stomach and having the convenience store on their way home was pretty … convenient. Apparently making the right choice, Oikawa beamed at him.

“Your treat!” Smiling, Oikawa skipped ahead.

“Oi!” Iwaizumi made a few big steps, catching up. “I never agreed to that!” But, oh, did he know he would comply either way. When did he not? Okay, granted, Iwaizumi is known for denying Oikawa lots of fun and slacking off but if someone paid more attention, they would certainly notice how Iwaizumi was weak to give Oikawa everything he needed to be happy.

That included buying Oikawa ice cream after training on a hot summer day, regardless of it being Oikawa’s birthday. He would have done it any day.

It was the end of the term, most of the students already in the mood for summer vacation to start and crowding the convenience store. Iwaizumi and Oikawa pressed through the aisles, stopping in front of the small freezer to decide which icecream should satisfy their immediate hunger.

Iwaizumi didn’t have to think for long, grabbing the vanilla popsicle and with a side glance to Oikawa picked up the mint-chocolate one for him. They both were too predictive, but they didn’t care. They got in line with all the other students, ignoring the chatter and paid as fast as possible to flee the growing heat in the store.

Outside wasn’t any cooler but at least they could breathe. Unwrapping their ice cream, they set a leisurely pace down the street. Almost in a panic, Iwaizumi realized that they were on their way home.

“Wanna stop by the playground?” The words tumbled out of his mouth before he could think it through. Oikawa cocked both his eyebrows as he bit into his popsicle. (Who even did that?!)

“Iwa-chan, are you finally acknowledging your inner child?”

Iwaizumi made a side step, making Oikawa trip. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” With a satisfied smirk, Iwaizumi took a right turn at the next intersection. The playground wasn’t far from their homes, it was one of their meeting places to play when they were younger. Most of the time they just ran across the street to each other, but whenever someone wasn’t home or had something to do, they ended up meeting at the playground before starting a new adventure.

When they were only a few meters away from the playground, Oikawa suddenly sprinted ahead and jumped over the small fence.

“First!” Triumphantly Oikawa punched the air, grinning at Iwaizumi with the smuggest grin he could muster. Iwaizumi made a disgusted face in response.

“Congratz, you sprinted 5 meters, are you proud of yourself?”

“Very, so.” Spinning around, Oikawa pointed to the swings. “Wanna bet who can jump the highest?”

Iwaizumi knew Oikawa was just daunting him, but again, who was he to deny Oikawa any request?

“You’re on, Trashykawa.”

They both ran over to the swings, bags thrown to the side before jumping on it. Pushing themselves from the ground, they gained height pretty fast. Oikawa was laughing loudly next to him, making Iwaizumi feel a familiar buzzing in his stomach.

“On three!” Oikawa yelled as if Iwaizumi couldn’t have heard him otherwise.

“Three!” Iwaizumi started the count down.

“Two!” Oikawa continued with the next push.

“One!” Iwaizumi bit his lip to suppress his grin.

“Go!”

They both let go of the swing when they were at their highest, soaring through the air toward the setting sun. It was only for one or two seconds, but Iwaizumi felt so alive at that moment. Crashing down on the grass, they rolled off their momentum until they stopped breathless facing each other.

“I win!” Oikawa declared, still laughing breathlessly. Iwaizumi felt his breath being caught as well, but for a whole other reason.

“Why?!” Trying to sound angry, Iwaizumi furrowed his eyebrows but the grin on his lips betrayed his joy.

“Because it’s my birthday!”

“It’s your birthday?”

“Iwa-chan!”

They snickered, pushing their heads together until they were full out laughing again. Iwaizumi rolled back on his back, wiping away a tear from laughing too hard. Oikawa sat up next to him, dusting himself off.

“Well, let’s go home. It’s already late and I am really hungry.”

Iwaizumi sighed, pulling out his cellphone to check the time. It was already half-past seven, the agreed time, but just when he wanted to pocket his cellphone again, a text message popped up.

MatsukawaWe need 15 more minutes!!forgot the candles!!

Iwaizumi suppressed a groan, mind already racing for any white lie to hold off going home. But, alas, he knew pretty much himself that thinking wasn’t his forte so he let his body do the work. His hand jerked out before his mind caught up, grabbing Oikawa’s sleeve and pulling him down again. With so much force, Oikawa fell down on Iwaizumi, catching himself with his other forearm next to his head.

“Ack! Iwa-chan what was th-“

Iwaizumi’s hands relocated on Oikawa’s collar, pulling him down which resulted in Oikawa losing his balance and crashing their lips together. They both grunted, teeth clacking but Iwaizumi didn’t let go. As if in apology, he softened the kiss, moving their lips against each other until Oikawa sighed, holding Iwaizumi’s face in turn.

After a few seconds, they regained their rhythm and Oikawa pushed his lower lip between Iwaizumi’s lips, biting slightly at them. In response, Iwaizumi sucked on Oikawa’s lower lip which he presented to willingly. Oikawa’s hands tightened in Iwaizumi’s hair, holding on to not lose himself. They caught their breath every now and then, turning their heads from right to left and kissing each other until their lips were swollen.

“Iwa-chan!” Oikawa finally managed breathlessly. “What…?”

Iwaizumi reluctantly opened his eyes, heart skipping when he looked up at Oikawa’s stupid kissed face, eyes glassy and lips rosy. Granting himself another chaste kiss, Iwaizumi looked away. His face started to heat when he realized what he had done. Clearing his throat, he let go of Oikawa’s collar, smoothing it slightly.

“Happy birthday, I guess.”

“You guess?!” Oikawa sat up, straddling Iwaizumi’s legs and crossing his arms. “What does that mean?”

“Well”, Iwaizumi raked his brain for an answer that didn’t sound as made up as it was going to be, “you won in our swing match. This is your price.” Wow.

“Wow.” Oikawa sounded as unimpressed as his inner voice, but he didn’t wince, so that was that. “Getting kissed by my boyfriend on my birthday requires to win at a swing contest?”

“It was your choice dating someone as tactless as me.” Iwaizumi shrugged but felt his face flame up again. This was all so stupid.

Oikawa sighed, letting his arms dangle free again. “Well, I did that.” Leaning down and kissing Iwaizumi’s pouting mouth, Oikawa grinned. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Then he stood up, offering Iwaizumi a hand who huffed before taking it. Iwaizumi glanced at his phone again as they grabbed their bags, 7.45 pm, perfect. Letting out a breath in relief, Iwaizumi pushed Oikawa with his shoulder.

“Hurry up, I’m hungry.”

“Oh, suddenly you decide to allow us food? How graciously of you!” Oikawa laughed, letting himself being pushed.

“Just shut up.” Though he was grunting, Iwaizumi felt a smile tug at his lips.

They reached Iwaizumi’s home in less than two minutes, an unspoken agreement to go to Iwaizumi because that’s what they always did. The sun was almost down, some lights were already turned on and from within the house, there were loud noises to be heard. Talk about being subtle, Iwaizumi thought to himself. Well, as long as Oikawa was surprised, their plan worked.

Oikawa put his hand on the handle, since he stopped ringing the bell when he was like 8, but before he pushed the door open, he glanced over his shoulder, pinning Iwaizumi with a smug glare.

“Did you think you were discreet?” He half-whispered, making Iwaizumi freeze. “Glancing at your phone and then kissing me? Iwa-chan, prepare yourself for revenge for only kissing me as a distraction.” With a wink, he opened the door.  

[caesurabywriting]

do you have a drabble or headcanon of your otp: fooling the world & each other becoming engaged? pretty please. c: i'm curious.

because you said please + i’ll take any excuse to talk about them, i’m obligated to answer this. honestly i have way too many headcanons but i’m going to try and be concise and coherent here (+ huge apologies for how long this is anyway, but these two are hella complicated and i’m way too Extra for their angst)headcanons:

- they only get engaged because she claims she’s pregnant (spoiler alert: she’s not, but she’s relying on the fact that she can get pregnant soon after/in a close enough window for it to be true) - she uses that excuse to get his attention bc he seemed to be getting more and more distant and passive re: their relationship and she wanted to have a way to lock him down even if she has to heavily manipulate the situation to get her way. she’s like a milder form of amy dunne.- she’s also the poster child for abandonment and trust issues because her parents were awful, but it’s what brought them ~together~ in the first place. his ex-gf, viv, was her best friend. they all lived together in NYC, along w tom’s own bestie, for six years ( which is what #manhattan memoirs is about ) before viv one day abruptly moved out without an explanation, dropping contact with them both, abandoning their perfect unit of four. up until that point tom and tessa barely tolerated each other + had an ongoing banter thing going on. she had a short fuse and he loved to light it at any chance he got. antagonizing her was his favorite hobby. later on, they proceeded to ‘bond’ over angry and angsty hate sex to avoid being sad over her viv’s departure. but then feelings were caught. oops. anyways…- she’s a ~first comes love, then comes marriage, then comes baby~ kind of person, and he knows this. having a baby without being married first would be a huge deal breaker for her. if he declined stepping up to ask her to marry him there would be no baby and she’d tell him to leave (in theory, but between you and me i don’t think she could and would have come up with something more dramatic to get his undying attention)- it was very non romantic and went down more like a business deal discussion. she presented a serious ultimatum that needed addressing. she sprung it on him. essentially, pre-proposing his proposal. there was no ring or down-on-one-knee business. it was very much a highly staked version of ‘should i stay or should i go?’- she went out by herself after the ‘proposal’ and chose her own ring and everything. anything he chose would have been complained about and returned- he wanted/wants to propose again in a more romantic and thoughtful way because even though he’s pretty neutral about marriage, he sees it’s important to her and she deserves the best of things. alas, time kept ticking by and it seemed like he’d lost his shot, so he kept such plans to himself and lets her resent him a little extra for his apparent lack of involvement, as usual.i do not have a full drabble composed ( yet - but i probably will one day even though it will ruin my life ), but i do have various fragmented flashback/extracts from actual replies/past threads that may or may not make sense out of context but, regardless, i’ve collected them below if you’re interested on a glimpse of things somewhat engagement-related:

1. Their tables had done more than shift, they had been flipped and spun out. The undeniable truth tightly wrapped around his reality, pinning him transfixed in place. For better or for worse, those two lines had seen Tom’s uncontrolled fishtailing hitched onto a finite track. A duo of one dimensional pink had the power to change everything. Tom blinked over dilated pupils, his sentimental conscience sucker punched by a one-two hit of remorse and disquietude. It was all still etched into him like the grooves of a record, designed to be played on repeat at his masochistic leisure — Tessa presenting herself empty handed after already discarding the evidence, bearing the news with clutched hands and a penetrating gaze. Her voice, poised and decisively urgent: ’Stay.’ They were standing in the same room for the first time in three days. He’d avoided the sheen of her dark hair for the floorboards, ‘That’s not all you’re asking.’ His timbre noticeably wavered in comparison to hers. Like a whip, Tessa’s voice cut across with a warning flatline: ‘No. It’s what we are.’ Her eyes, calculating, soften magnanimously the moment he looks up, ‘You know your answer, don’t you, Thomas?’ 2. Her reveal had been a surprise. Admittedly, he was the only one to blame for that belief, his sense of awareness not particularly careful nor attentive during the time between an office shift ending and them falling from a fight into a bed together. In all it’s ‘A one time thing. We’re not doing this again,’ ( gradually switched out for ‘make it a one more time thing,’ ) glory. What had only ever been meant to be a secondary arrangement, intended to fill space, to pass time. The most beneficial way to end a combative argument. It was an exhausting interlude that matched the tone of his routine, wearing him down until he was nothing but fine grains. He had been confused, torn, and collectable.3. No celebratory graduation ceremony marked their progression as they impassively watched their shared temperature rise from ‘fling’ to ‘fiancé’, endlessly fluctuating between offensively heated and dishearteningly tepid throughout. Their anniversaries as somber as the sticker announcing it on the square of calendar. That catalyzing moment of history turned away from very deliberately. There were no sweet heart-eyed how did you two meet narratives to supply. Just Mr. Type-B and Ms. Type-A, two heartbroken kids susceptible to distraction. Amusing themselves until it became real. Maybe it did. Or maybe it was harmless and it was pure paranoia making it seem like a neon sign blinked above his head in an infinite line of alarmed exclamation marks.4. Wreckage was imminent no matter which way the pieces aligned. Home ( now ) was sleeplessly staring at a ceiling, deliberating in the dark and into the glow of the morning. Most of all, an internal pleading line of looped thought: Oh, God, let today be a normal day. Let him be normally nervous, unhesitating, and spontaneously happy. Let him not squint as Tessa walked away, the disheveled shadow of dark hair thrown down her back strongly evoking of another’s in poor lighting. Familiar shades of umber and taupe clashing with the lesser known notes of sangria and mint on her breath, the scent of rose in her hair. Tessa, an intended sojourn; a breathing space. An operating lightbulb to illuminate the dreary darkness of a vicissitude neither wanted to admit they were blind in trying to navigate. No one was ever prepared for a demotion into the limited edition status of another’s life when, viewed in the other direction, they’d presumably been branded essential. But it had happened, and Tessa was the only tangible reason not to go too far off an precipice that led to no tomorrow. Pulling at hands smudged with paint instead of cigarette ash in a desperate attempt at capsizing the insurmountable detritus of past imprints drifting throughout his system. Taking the brunt of all frustration, tremor, and every emotion banned from expression. Aggressively sidelining the only language he wanted to feel, touch, and listen to. Relearning a different one. Everything that had been absentminded and easy now requiring vigilance and humorless behavior. Yet as exhausting as all her short tempered glares and cavilling was, it had also been her strict accountability and interception between him and acts of stupidity that kept him together.5. She was a person to whom his surrendering murmur of ‘I love you’ often had the bitter aftertaste of something over-steeped. His palliative precursor, a promising commitment not to be cowardly, invitingly interchangeable with other prosperous phrases of three: I am here. I am staying. We are family. The woman who’d engaged in an unrequested initiative, yanking the dusty rug out from beneath their at-risk stale situation and pulling them into dazzling sunlight. He couldn’t have said no if he’d wanted to. He was prepared to try — faking it until it was true — just as he shouldered everything else. Maybe saying yes to Tessa, and in turn something that scared him, had been the gateway drug.6. There were many shouldn’t-ridden clauses, both spoken and not, between the two of them. Tessa and Thomas. One of the very first in-depth conversations they’d had ended with a shouldn’t. The first time he hadn’t felt the need to crack a prolonged, tensely held, silence with something deprecating. Instead, tentatively entering the humid air, a plea and a concern all in one: We shouldn’t do this, it’s too soon. Then, only two days later: we shouldn’t stop, I can’t do this alone. And the rest fell into natural order, the reoccurring theme of expectations fallen short: He shouldn’t come home so late. She shouldn’t have to ask twice. We shouldn’t talk about that. The clarity of her voice in his head was almost identical to a certain other someone’s. A different inflection, a different time — but just the same; a damning memory able to be plucked from the recesses of his mind at the most inconvenient of moments. Tessa’s censorious commentary was never far behind. He’d been consumed by it in slowly advancing increments for nearly ten years. In the beginning, a day-to-day routine of merely pretending he was listening to her as he dotingly observed the accompanying figure that she’d arrived with. More recently, her unimpressed narration wove through the fabric of any of the romantic or couple-y things they tried to do. Tom, begrudgingly following her into the overcrowded abyss of whatever public outing she’d pre-arranged, always far too absentminded, staying alert for all the wrong reasons. Looking down to check on even the slightest vibration of his phone — a problem? A meeting? A respite? — whilst completely avoiding having to provide any input on Tessa’s newly favorite subject ( it rhymed with bedding ). Their verbal tennis matches, a ceaseless tit-for-tat game of passive aggression, could run steady laps around everything else they did. It was almost an entity of it’s own. There was Tom, there was Tessa, and there was that low pressure that hung in the atmosphere whenever they entered into the same room as if someone had made tasteless a joke at a funeral. The one beam of hope through it all was the fact that, admitted to or not, they knew each other too well. Despite what they withheld from one another — even though, if presented the same card drawn during a Rorschach Test she’d see the shape of a book where he’d see a pint of beer — they could never return to being strangers. Getting to know her had been a muffled process, a slowly sinking feeling. The diluting of a strongly flavored concentrate with hot water. Three parts scathing to one part cordial. Mild enough to eventually be widely palatable as opposed to the too-potent original double dose; the sort of thing that appealed to rush-seeking junkies and hyperactive children and those who fell somewhere in between.