#so if i want to read them i have to spend 10 minutes revving my brain's faulty fucking engine so it can process japanese characters
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Love Reading 🦥 - September 2023 - Scorpio
Singles:
Overall energy: The Chariot
How you will meet: Queen of Swords rev
How they will treat you: Justice
Long-term Potential: 5 Wands
Oracle:
Hammer 🔨
- Sabotage & rebuild
- Persistent
- Working on it
- Repairing
The Butterfly 🦋
- Evolving & growth
- Next phase
- Healing inner child
- Releasing the past
Whew Scorpio, this is scathing. It’s like the cards hiss at me when I touch them, you are simply out to prove “fk YOU” to your ex person, period. I get some sort of travel, movement, goal, vacation perhaps, something where you’re spending money, and I get there being a lover around you too. Maybe they’re the whole reason you’re going, or you’re only with this person to piss your ex off, that is the motivation here - 10 Swords. You want to hurt them. Queen of Swords rev is definitely the ex, not the lover, which shows they’re the ones deeply in your energy and affecting you, not this third person. Petty petty.
They are fifty shades of pissed OFF at this “sudden” Emperor status you’re flexing, taking control of your situation and making decisions without them. Money is a big thing here too, because they see you as greedy, stingy, withholding and now you’re rushing into some adventure of passion, fun, maybe traveling somewhere amazing, with a whole attitude of “it’s over and fk you”. Well…you’ll win for a minute. How they then treat you is Justice, regarding the family, the home, anything you’ve built together is done with. This can be filing divorce papers, or throwing your shit on the street. Changing the locks. I don’t get them being super dramatic or crazy tbh, but they will act very quickly and get rid of you and everything of yours. Overnight, you don’t exist. Maybe even move someone else into their home? Long term, if you speak at all, you will always argue over “the lover” and the sneakiness, lying, cheating, or strategic thinking, planning, and actions that nailed the coffin shut. Curious about the Lover…do they even matter or…😂 Messages indicate no. I think you may have dug a hole too deep with this one. Nailed the coffin shut is all I get from them.
Messages -
Their side:
- Excellent cook 🍲
- I won’t go backwards, only forwards.
Your side:
- I’m SORRY
- You are the YIN to my YANG ☯️
Signs you may be dealing with:
Libra, Aries, Aquarius & Capricorn
Couples:
Overall energy: 4 Wands
Current: 8 Cups
Challenge: The Devil rev & The World
How they feel about you: 6 Cups & The Hierophant
How you feel about them: Page of Swords & 10 Wands
Outcome: Page of Pentacles
Wow. For the oracles, this is definitely your person, and it’s looking like you messed up and want to fix it, because you know they’re your person. Some could be already married or living together. The whole month seems to revolve around a break-up, separation, or some kind of chaos within the relationship. The Tower clarifies 4 Wands, so this can be a jolting and shocking experience. It doesn’t have to necessarily be your* fault, for many it is, in some cases there is a shocking event within the home (maybe literally), that’s no one’s fault, and you’re the one trying to fix it, because your partner is upset.
There are messages or actions of leaving this behind, for many it’s a break-up or separation, for others it can be issues with THE actual home. Hopefully not a fire but I’m seeing fire and hearing fire and wish that on absolutely no one 💯 This can represent natural disasters, sudden events, or things out of your control. An eviction due to issues with the building itself. I hope not, I’m sending you lots of love & positive energy surrounding the home when I’m done with this reading. Does that work IDK but I try, same as prayer. For others though, there may be some shady messages/actions being discovered, passion is an issue with your person, some kind of flirty connection has caused an ending here, there is heavy upset, worry, and stress about this, and that is The Tower.
How they feel is very nostalgic about the commitment between you, if you’re married then they’re reminiscing over the actual wedding, the life you’ve had, who they thought you were…this person is very old fashioned, and they saw you as IT, the one. Oracles shows you are, they’re not wrong, you just fkd up. For most, not all. I’m not sure how badly though, they feel absolutely betrayed, 10 Swords, and this Ace of Wands connected is either a passionate exchange, anger issues on your end, they’re just really pissed at you, or the situation in the case of some disaster. It fills them with nostalgia, so having to leave a home is quite possible here, you, them, or both of you, and 10 Swords shows they feel this isn’t their choice, they feel betrayed.
The challenge is overcoming toxicity, letting it go for good, and rising above these challenges before you to have a successful outcome. Could be cheating, flirting, toxic something or other, the situation itself. You want to move on WITH this person, and are keeping quiet much of the time because you’re/they’re either needing to heal, or they just won’t talk to you. That’s a heavy burden on your shoulders, you could still be watching them and keeping tabs, possibly learning all you can on the internet on “how to fix this disaster”, with Page of Swords. They’re in remembering, you’re in fixing mode, and you’re holding back and giving them space until you have the answers (or they let you back in, answer the phone, etc.)
The outcome is an apology, a gift of some kind, and a new start for your 10 Cups, could be a whole family here. You could propose? Not sure if that’s the best move after a disaster. But that depends on your person. If this is a marriage already, offering to renew your vows could be something you’re considering. You’re feeling left out in the cold and abandoned, and you don’t want to lose this person, it’s like you’re offering to do anything. For those with a house in trouble, you’re signing documents to do with maybe a new house, apartment, a temporary set up to avoid poverty and being kicked out. Money and contracts are involved in some way, as well as an apology if you messed up, you really want to fix this relationship, it means a lot to you. Oracles confirm it for you both, wishing you the best of luck 💚
Now off to send lots of love, healing and protection for your home. When I see disaster it freaks me out, like I’m NOT manifesting that shit for anyone 😳 Maybe that’s me, but us believers can be pretty superstitious and weird with these things, so I’m saying nooo, no. I want you all with positive intentions & love, to always win. And be happy.
Messages -
Their side:
- Old Time Romance 🌹
- Not Ready …yet
Your side:
- Physically fit
- I am ENTRANCED by you 😵💫
Oracles -
Soul Mates 🫂
- Soul connection
- Partnership
- Soul contract
- Life partner
Engagement Ring 💍
- Higher commitment
- Eternity
- Partnership & union
- Completion
Signs you may be dealing with:
Aries, Capricorn, Scorpio, Gemini, Taurus, Sagittarius, Leo & Pisces
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the subway station is hell. every time a story section forces you to actually get on the correct train instead of just fast travelling with the map i suffer for like ten minutes running in circles
ok listen my hometown is just outside of dc and i used to take both the metro and metrobuses like. semi-regularly. i have never once gotten lost in a real life subway station. idk if tokyo subway stations are actually like that or if persona 5 decided to build a fucking underground labyrinth just for shits and giggles but i think if i had to navigate those hell tunnels in real life i would probably end up trapped for days on end
#like. i refuse to believe the real ones are actually like that. there's no way they can actually be that much worse than metro center right#not to mention persona doesnt TRANSLATE ANY OF THE SIGNS ON THE WALLS#so if i want to read them i have to spend 10 minutes revving my brain's faulty fucking engine so it can process japanese characters#asks
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(OoC: So, what's the AU thing about?)
((ooc: Okay so basically I got an idea form a song completely unrelated to the fandom and long story short, Bi n Bu are no longer able to escape from the Egg except through a very specific method, and then Karl comes back along and bippity boppity your body is now our property!
So, yeah. Body-swap AU except Karl kinda dies because to get the swap to work everyone's body had to die. Karl's gets healed afterwards through magical time shenanigans-
So Billiam and Rune(Bu's new name in this AU) wake up in the library, in our current DSMP present, in the weird body of this weird guy who's apparently a weird color-shapeshifter.(yeah, i'm going with the cryptid creature Karl for this one because. it's cool as heck and I never see this anywhere)
a little while after they wake up in the present, karl wakes up after being dormant because he literally died and it's like "HEY WAIT WHAT THE HECK YOU STOLE MY BODY" and everyone else goes "shit shit shit shit"
p.s if you're wondering where hubert is he's dead. the egg killed nearly everyone except billiam and butler because bi is its main caretaker and bu will never leave his side
(more under the cut please there's so much and i actually love this au so much)
Now I'm not a system but I imagine these four(yes, four; Billiam, Rune, Piam(Billiam's Piglin side), and Tune(Bu's Other) operate kind of like one. They have an innerworld and everything, they aren't just all constantly crammed into the front. That would get confusing, stressful and difficult to manage overall. Bu's usually the one fronting because no one else wants to; Billiam doesn't wanna do it because he doesn't wanna mingle with the "poor", Tune doesn't wanna do it because it always gets tripped up with literally everything about the body, it's not even dangerous enough to protect now, and Piam doesn't wanna do it because he's kind of scared of the Overworld someone that doesn't know how to be a Human Person
Oh yeah and I've also talked about all this and more with my bestie so here's a copy-paste of that conversation-
I think an encounter with Sapnap and/or Quackity would go terribly too, until they sit down and explain things as best they can wait no actually "So basically, we killed your fiancée so we could inhabit his body and escape from a really bad situation. sorry" Acid Sapanap would go feral and I can't even begin to conceive what extremely destructive thoughts Quackoty would start having Me MHM Sapnap probably pulls a sword on them and they automatically reach for their own before remembering "Oh shit, we don't have it. OH SHIT-" and then they just gotta r u n Butler's trying desperately to teleport but without a pearl, eeeeeh that's not gonna do anything buddy I'm not sure if Karl has armor in his inventory or not but either way they wouldn't have the time or coordination to equip it Acid they just immediately die it'd be so funny Me "NOT AGAIN, WE JUST GOT FREE- death" Now lets hope either Karl has some extra canon lives, or those lives Billiam bought carry over Acid PFFFFT, BILLIAM'S LIVES GET CARRIED WITH THEM AND IT'S JUST revives ok listen we don't gotta dies revives please let's just dies revives why do you do t dies revives this is just gonna last forever isn't it? dies rev- Me wheeze YEAH "GET OUT OF KARL'S BODY!" "We can't!! It's already been done!! dies" "WHY WON'T YOU DIE!!?" "We are!!??" ohhh, bonus angst points if every time they die, Butler goes a little more dormant- Butler was only meant to have one life, he never got any Totems and his soul cannot take this in the way Billiam's can After about 15 deaths, Billiam gets Sapnap to stop for about five seconds, and in those five seconds he realizes that he can no longer hear or feel Butler Acid oh god Me If he manages to get far enough away and find someplace to hide(perhaps the library again), he dips into the headspace and finds Butler just gone. He looks around for a while and finds them far away from where they were, collapsed on the ground, flickering slightly, and entirely unresponsive. And no matter how much he tries, they just won't wake up, and their Ender half has disappeared completely. He can't do anything except wait for them. Acid fjsjdj oh my god imagine Billiam just goes feral after that he's like "what did you do to m y B u t l e r" and just jumps on Sapnap with his bare hands Me Oh absolutely, he will Murder Sapnap without a second thought and he doesn't care how many deaths he has to go through to do it even though dying more will make it take longer for butler to wake up, and then afterwards he'll be pacing around random areas stress-stimming intensely and waiting for his child to wake up Acid yeap Me Somehow he finds his way to Kinoko Kingdom and is like "oh, this looks like a good place for a walk" and then spends the entire time not actually looking at anything and drowned in anxiety
AND THEN THESE WERE LAST NIGHT'S THOUGHTS, SOMEHOW LATER ON THEY END UP AT SAPNAP'S PLACE CAUSE THEY TECHNICALLY DON'T HAVE A PLACE TO STAY Unless you count the library but I don't think that would be very comfortable-
Anyway, Rune was fronting when they fell asleep and then their chronic nightmares came back. Sapnap wakes up(or was he ever really sleeping?) to some almost animalistic gasping in the other room and runs in to find Karl Karl's body curled on the bed, barely humanoid and random flashes of color spiking over him in waves and clawlike hands digging into his head
So he tries to wake him up, and when he does Bu's first reaction is to scramble away in pure terror because he's not fully out of the nightmare yet, there are even tears running down his face that just get absorbed back into the mass of color. Sapnap tries to calm him down, and eventually succeeds enough to ask him what the hell happened, and who's fronting once he remembers that that is a thing-
Thing is, Bu's gone nonverbal, but hey at least Karl was some sort of shapeshifter so they can just shift blobs of color into the air to answer Sapnap's questions
He very quickly learns only to ask yes/no ones because he can't read Galactic which is the only thing Bu can respond in, but that whole night ends on a pretty good note :3
Acid IS KARL IN THE SYSTEM CANON? HE'D BE THE MAIN FRONTER IF IT IS I THINK Me After that nightmare Rune finds himself trusting Sapnap a little more but also not as able to front, he's just so tired of it. No one else wants to front, he always has to stay there and he never gets a break. At least before, Tune had control during the night and he got to rest some. Now his sleep schedule is just as abhorred as before and no one else even comes near the front. He tries as long as he can, for everyone else's sake, but after weeks of fronting alone he just can't anymore. So he finally leaves the front and just collapses face-first into idk a patch of grass in the innerworld or something, and he's so exhausted of being a person that he can't even think straight, He doesn't want consolation, he doesn't want promises, he doesn't even want cuddles he just wants someone else to take over for a bit. Me OOH MAYBE He wakes up and wanders around the innerworld figuring out what the heck is going on and wondering why he can't see the outside anymore and oh god is he dead, are they all dead maybe they're all dead and none of them know it, and then Rune comes out of front and practically begs to not have to be a person anymore, he tells Karl "please i just want a break, just go out there or get someone else to go out there for a while please" and, well, Karl takes a chance and goes out to front and holy shit is this the real world, holy shit are those his fiancées, holy s h i t Acid THAT'S THE BESR OUTCOME ACTUALLY Me YESSSSSSSSS MASQUERADE SYSTEM + KARL THE MAN HIMSELF JACOBS Acid YESSS Me Karl and Rune are now host and co-host, because. no one else wants to front Acid Karl tricking Billiam into fronting.mp4 Me GSHDFGBSGDHFBSF Rune and Karl lock him into front and Rune proceeds to lean against the nearest flat surface, slide down and then dissociate for the next couple/several hours Karl makes sure no one disturbs him, even if Tune and Piam are Very Worried about their exhausted Human hybrid Acid them taking care of Rune (affectionate)
Acid OK WAIT I WAS THINKING AND IN SYSTEMS PEOPLE USUALLY MANIFEST SO I WAS THINKING HOW THAT'D WORK IN THE MASQUERADE SYS AND I REALIZED THAT EVERYONE IN THERE IS TECHNICALLY DEAD IN A WAY WHAT IF THAT'S THIS AU'S LIMBO? ONE DAY WILBUR POPS UP AND COMMITS MULTIPLE CRIMES AGAINST HUMANITY Me HOLY SHIT OH SHIT EVERYONE THAT PERMA-DIES JUST ENDS UP AS AN ALTER IN KARL'S WEIRD COLOR-SHAPESHIFTING BODY XDDD You can always tell who's fronting by the colors, as long as you actually know them enough to know their colors- Acid Wilbur: hello Quackity, I am BAC- Karl: oh my GOD Wilbur shut the FUCK UP we understand it you're gay now please get out of front I have a date in 10 minutes Acid OOOOO YES Me Like Rune is purple/pink(mainly pink) gray-red/dark purple/orange/green eyes(right/right/left/left, respectively), and then he has some other colors sifting through, like a dark indigo-blue and a yellow the color of Endstone Tune is all of that but some of it is darker(the pinks/purples and Endstone color), some of it's the same(the eyes, except they have a light pink shine over them) and some of it is inverted. Clouds will waft around the body when it's fronting and whenever you look through the clouds you'll see the colors inverted Billiam is solidly pale pink except for his eyes(maroon) and his hands and feet(gold, with veins streaking out and tapering off at about the elbow) Piam is a slightly redder pink, with spots of a Netherrack color here and there, and his gold is more orangey, like there's fire reflecting off of it karl is just. karl. Of course he's got the signature swirls in bright violent and teal but other than that he's just a smorgasbord of color, usually bright and neon. When he's near/thinking about Sapnap and/or Quackity, little hearts start popping off him
#Relyn Records#infodump#ask to tag#i don't know if there are any systems following me but if i got anything wrong please tell me i do not want to slander your name-#anyway i may have accidentally made them a system found-family
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Unpredictable (Overhaul x Reader) pt.5
a/n: things get pretty interesting here. i actually like how this chapter turned out ;)
warnings: this cannot be read solo, a bit of harassment
Links: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 6
Masterlist to my other fics: here :)
Overhaul’s waiting list: @jjk-biased @infinite-universe-love @dirtypride @blackymomo03
It was finally the morning of the gala.
And things were not looking good for you.
The night before, Tsukauchi and you stayed at the precinct till 11 to finish closing up a case that had been solved by the forensics team. It would have been such a quick fix if it hadn’t been for the sudden power outage that lasted for 2 hours. The generators were doing well but without the internet to back up the system, it was practically useless.
When everything was finished, the chief had to pop in and hand another assignment. One that was due later in the day. Photocopying the documents, you worked on it till the early hours of dawn in your little home.
Oh, and you almost spilled coffee on one of the important handouts.
Now that the sun was shining, you rubbed the drowsiness from your eyes and pushed yourself to get out of bed. All too aware that you were now running late, you didn’t give a damn anymore. Screw them if you were late. Being given work at that time of night was never a good thing to do, yet the chief always made sure to bless you with more cases.
Taking your sweet time in preparing yourself for the day's activities, you put your phone on mute and proceeded to take a shower.
Now seated in your car, the engines revved as you read the notifications. 3 missed calls and 5 messages, 3 of which belonged to Tsukauchi who scolded you for being late for your shift. The other two were just updates regarding 2 other cases you were working on. As for the missed calls, it was the chief.
Tossing your phone to the passenger’s seat, you drove your way to the precinct.
By the time you arrived, you had to sneak your way in. Eyes scanning for the chief or your partner, the area seemed to be void of those 2 men. Making a quick run for it, you passed by the receptionist and ducked when you were near the meeting room. With your cubicle an arms length away, you suddenly felt restricted and void of any air passage.
“And where do you think you’re going?” Tsukauchi said as he pulled you closer to him. “You’re late by 2 hours and the boss is fuming.”
“It’s not my fault he let us burn the midnight oil on the case.” You swatted his hand away from your collar. “I finished mine already so he should be thankful.”
“He’s waiting for you.”
“Damn it.”
Stomping to his office, you prepared yourself for the worst. Knocking on the doors, they were opened by the man himself. His features showed pure rage and anger. When he gestured for you to enter, the doors closed and if your ears weren’t going deaf, you heard the locks click. “Look.” You started to explain as you went to the same sofa you sat in a few days ago. “You gave me a new case and the deadline only 24 hours. I managed to run through the case and even wrote down 3 possible villains who would do such a thing. I can contact my-”
“That’s not the point, (Y/N).” He cut you off. “You disobeyed the precincts rules.”
“By being late for 2 hours?” You countered. “For having been given something so last minute?”
“I do not tolerate tardiness in this precinct. I understand that it was not planned but the fact that you had the audacity to do such a thing is worrisome.”
Biting your tongue, you wanted to punch him in the face for not being considerate. Never in your life had you been late for work. All your cases were always finished on time and sometimes even earlier than schedule. Yeah, you were partly at fault but with the stress you had been carrying, you just couldn’t deal with this bullshit.
“Apologies for my actions.” You lowered your torso in hopes he would see it as heartfelt.
“Actions would have to speak louder than words here, (Y/N).” He denied you of forgiveness.
“You can give me 3 cases. But just basic ones as punishment. I’ll readjust my sche-”
“Dinner.” He inserted himself. “You and me.”
Your jaw dropped and your eyebrows furrowed. Did you hear him right? The way his eyes began to scan your body was getting unpleasant. When he licked his lips, you immediately broke eye contact.
“Excuse me?”
“Set aside a time in your schedule to have dinner with me.” He smirked. Resting his elbows on his knees, he lowered his voice. “Not business related of course. It would be nice to savor a bottle of wine with you.”
“Sir.” You shifted in your seat. Your back now sinking onto the couch’s back. “It would not look good to the other officers if we were to spend time casually outside the office.”
“Either that or I will have to hand over 10 of my cases to you.”
10? That was more than you could handle given your workload. Feeling your breakfast making its way to your mouth, you managed to brush the feeling away. No matter how hard you will yourself to look him in the eye, you just couldn’t do it.
Standing up and leaving would be a good option but the doors were locked. He was quick and your speed was nothing against his. Swallowing your saliva, you began to chew on your inner cheek and your fingers began to fidget.
“Better answer now, (Y/N).” He glanced at the wall clock. “10 cases are waiting in line.”
“When?” You barely managed to answer.
“This sunday.” He stood up and paced towards the door. “I shall send you a message as to where we shall eat.”
When the doors finally opened, you had never stood up so fast in your life. The office was disgusting and all you wanted to do was run to the ladies toilet and wash your face. Before you could step out, the chief managed to grab a hold of your wrist. A small yelp escaping your mouth.
“Tell anyone about this,” He whispered. Leaning in closer to your ear. The sight of you backing away was a rather good one. “Those 10 cases will fall into your desk.Oh, and wear something nice, my star officer.”
Letting go of your wrist, his hand found your back as he gently pushed you outside. The way he managed to slide his palm down a bit caused chills down your spine. When the door finally closed, you dashed for the nearest toilet and locked yourself in the stall.
Taking your jacket off, you hung it on the hook and sat on the toilet. Catching your breath and recomposing yourself to what had just unfolded. Trying to calm your trembling body, you reached for your jacket’s pocket and took your phone out.
Clicking on Gei’s contact, you held on to your phone as the call tried to connect. No use. You were redirected to voicemail. Ending the call, you scrolled to your dad’s contact. Your quivering thumb hesitant to call him. It had always been your motto to never involve your dad when it came to problems within the precinct. Knowing that this would lead to something bad, you chose not to call him.
Instead, you took a deep breath and dialed up another number instead. On the first ring, you immediately hung up. Hiding your face in your palms, you tried to relax by doing breathing exercises. It was short lived when your phone vibrated on your thigh,
‘Fuck.’ That’s all you could think of. Answering the call, you waited for him to speak.
“To what do I owe the pleasure?” Hearing his muffled voice somehow calmed you down. Leaning backwards, your thin shirt met the cold surface of the toilet seat cover.
“What’re you talking about?” You faked. “I didn’t call you.”
“Then why did my phone register your name under missed calls?”
“Oh.” The trembling of your body had now stopped and you felt relatively better. “My bad. Butt dial. Sorry about that”
“See it does not happen again, (L/N).” Overhaul replied. “Is there nothing else you have to say?”
“No. Sorry for disturbing you.” “I shall see you later.” He ended the call.
The time was now 12 noon. Opening your schedule, you let out a sigh of relief when you saw today was a field day. You could definitely use some fresh air. Not wanting to wear the jacket, you fixed yourself in the mirror and went to your cubicle.
Grasping for the papers you needed, you stuffed them into your bag and didn’t bother informing your partner that you were leaving. Walking to where you had parked your car, you threw your bag and hurriedly sat down. Locking your doors the moment you were fully inside.
Wanting to take your mind off of work, instead of doing interviews and gathering intel, you chose to drive your way back home to take a full bath. And to discard the jacket now situated in the trunk of your vehicle. With no traffic, it was a quick trip back to your building. Choosing to park in the underground area, you were all too happy when it was barely parked with cars.
Finally. You were in the comfort and safety of your own personal walls. Dialling Wcdonal’s on your phone, you ordered a WcMac to wash away everything that had happened today. Now sitting on the tub, you scrubbed whatever skin was exposed in his office. There wouldn’t be enough money in the world to pay you to enter his office alone.
Moments passed and you were now stuffing your mouth with the sinful burger. Its secret sauce tickling your tastebuds. It was now 3 pm and Gei would be arriving in an hour. Taking in the last piece, you threw the wrapper and took out the box that contained your dress.
Laying it flat on the bed, you admired the beading once again. It was all black but upon closer inspection, your eyes would travel and admire the handcrafted work done. Beside it was the box that contained the cuff-links. How you were going to give it to him was a mystery you had yet to solve.
Picking out the shoes you would wear, you came to terms with one of your favorites. A simple but strappy Zalentino heel. Gei would be proud of your get up. When the knock on your door finally echoed, you hid the box in your purse and proceeded to open the door.
Hours had passed and you were now good to go. Light makeup on your face, just enough to make you look refreshed and alive. Gei managed to convince you into wearing a stain proof-budge proof red lipstick. It made sense but you weren’t sure if you could pull of such an intense color. When his work was finished, he clapped his hands and jogged towards the living room.
“Lemme take a picture of you, (N/N)!” He said as he took his phone out. “Best work I've done on you! Let’s take a selfie!”
It was now 6 and your heart was racing. What would he be wearing? Would his jacket be present? Or would he suit up?
“Baby girl,” Gei teasingly nudged your elbow. “Better contain your thoughts cause your cheeks are pink. And I’m pretty sure that ain’t blush.”
Before you could reply, the dreaded knock introduced itself.
“Holy shit. Oh my gods.” You began to pace back and forth. “Do I look okay? Is the dress fine? Ahhhh…”
“Relax boo.” He reassured you as he walked towards the door. When he opened it, he was unsure of the person before him. Wearing a white raincoat and a mask covering the entirety of its face, he pouted a bit before letting him enter.
When you saw it was Chrono, it only made things worse. He was waiting inside the car and his appearance was still a mystery. Were you overdressed for the occasion? It was a gala, it was normal to doll up.
“Overhaul is waiting downstairs.” He informed you. His eyes scanning the room but his head remained facing you. “Ready?”
“Yeah.”
“Tell me, masked man~” Gei said as he bumped his waist at the wrapped man. “How does my baby girl look?”
Chrono did not like this. Not one bit. The stare Gei gave him bore holes into his mask. With a twitching eye, he let out a sigh and stepped backwards. It was bad enough his boss threatened him to be the one to get you from your unit and not him. Informing you that he would wait outside, you couldn’t help but giggle at his actions.
Gei took his things as you wore a trench coat to provide warmth. Grabbing the jacket you wore, you had come up with the perfect way to dispose of it. It wasn’t long when all three of you were now in the lobby. Chrono taking the lead.
Opening the doors for both of you, Gei’s mouth dropped when he saw Chrono opening the door to a sleek black Vercedes Mayback. His head turned to you and once again he did the wig snatched gesture. Looking back at the door, he watched as Overhaul stepped out of the car.
He was wearing an all black tux. His usual pale gray tie was replaced with a matte black one. A silver tie clip reflecting the lights above you. His hair was slicked back a tiny bit. The golden colors his eyes had were definitely the only accessory he needed for the night. Even with the mask on, he looked like a god.
“Oh sweet Beyonce that man is fine~…” Gei uttered under his breath. Just enough for you to hear and agree.
“If you’ll excuse us, we must be going.” Overhaul said as his gloved palm beckoned you to enter the car.
“Say no more, daddy!” Gei said as he wiggled his fingers at you. Trotting away to his next destination.
“Sorry about that…” You muttered as you went inside the spacious car. He followed suit and sat beside you. The wide armrest distancing the both of you. When he closed the door, the SUV began to move and off you went to the hotel.
The box sitting in your purse felt heavy. Ending the agony, you pulled it from your purse and took a deep breath.
“I, uhh, got you something.” You placed on the armrest. Observing his golden eyes, he gingerly took the box and flipped the lid open. The way his eyebrows jumped made you think he appreciated it. At least a bit.
“I appreciate this.” He took one and began to adjust his sleeves to wear them. Once they were both in place, he paused to admire them. You had good taste, he had to admit. “Your infested mind may have aligned with mine.”
“Not the best thank you, but I don’t get what you're saying…” That was the truth. You weren’t picking up the meaning behind his message. You followed the movement of his hand as he lifted the arm rest, the inside was wide enough to fit a shopping bag. Handing it to you, you were rather speechless at the event. “What’s this?”
“A gift. Something for the night.”
Taking the bag, you pulled out the box only to have your eyes widen at the embossed brand on the lid. Your gaze went from the box to him and back to the box.
“Holy smokes…” Lifting the lid, you were met with a gorgeous pair of Kristian Fouboutins. If your memory was right this particular pair would have to cost Y76,000. “These cost a fortune, Overhaul.”
“Nothing I can’t handle. Are they to your liking?” His sight focused on the city lights passing by.
“I mean, yeah. I love them but-”
“Think of it as a token of appreciation. It is all on you if you choose to wear them or not.”
Not wasting a second, you quickly unstrapped your heels and wore the Fouboutins. It was the perfect fit and it was surprisingly comfortable, complete opposite to the reviews you read.
Overhaul stared at you through his peripheral vision. The way your lips formed into a smile was rather pleasing. His eyes widened when you fully faced him and gifted his sight with a genuine smile.
The first one he’s ever received from you.
- - - - -
are you guys liking the progress? :) i hope you do :’) again, feel free to message me if you have any questions or if you wanna be tagged :) take care!
#overhaul x reader#chisaki kai x reader#overhaul#chisaki kai#bnha overhaul#mha overhaul#bnha chisaki kai#mha chisaki kai#overhaul is sugar daddy#heck he is a daddy#he can overhaul me and i honestly wouldnt mind#lmao whats wrong with me
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What BTS Are Most Proud of About Themselves
//This is a tarot reading. Be respectful and keep in mind that my interpretation of the cards is no way 100% fact. Don't take my word or interpretations as law//
Seokjin
*7 of wands, Queen of Wands*
Seokjin is most proud of his ability to fight against the odds. He is proud of his determination and strength to complete the goals he has set for himself. He is proud of his drive for success and his royal good looks (obviously) he is proud of his outgoing personality and how comfortable he is with himself. Low-key, homeboy just really likes himself in such a good, positive and healthy way. Hes like, "Dude, I am the shit!" And he isn't wrong. After all, the person you spend the most time with is yourself... (also, peep the fire energy for our fire boi)
Yoongi
* 9 of Cups, The Empress*
This soft pisces makes my heart melt. He is most proud of his creations. He lives and breaths for the things he creates. Each song is a piece of his heart and he is proud of his wishes coming true and doing what he put his heart and soul into. He is proud that he found a way to touch, heal and guide people through hard times. He's also stoked about the material gains of his hard work. He is proud of himself for digging himself out of a shitty situation and not living in a state of need.
He just really wants everyone to be happy. Treat this boy with love and respect
Hoseok
* Ace of Pentacles, Ace of Swords, The Devil rev.*
He prides himself on his ability to come up with new ideas and ways of looking at things. He is proud of his ability to shake off things that weigh him down and is constantly creating a new perspective. He gets down on himself from time to time but is quick to remedy that and stay on top of his game.
Tbh, Hope is always hard for me to read. It's always a little confusing and I have to shuffle for a solid 10 minutes before anything comes out for him. I pulled another clarity card, 8 of wands, and it makes a little more sense. I think he, above all else, takes pride in his hope. Hope for himself, hope for others and his faith in the people around him. We all know he would and has followed the boys to the ends of the earth because of his belief/faith/hope in the members.
Moral of Hobis reading is that he is swift and hard to pin down or put in a box.
Namjoon
* 10 of Wands, King of Wands*
This is almost a little sad. Namjoon is most proud of his ability to lead and his hardworking nature but it's a self sacrificing thing that he will always push everyone up until theres no one left to push him up. I have a scene in my head that demonstrates this. Namjoon is pushing all of the members up from the ground, kinda like a little stool, to get them onto the stage (pushing them all up and supporting them so that they can reach their dreams) and after they are all standing on this little ledge thing, Joon just smiles up at them and urges them to go on, not to worry about him. But they all kneel down and reach out their hands and JK, This mother fucker, says, "Not without you.", and fuckin Yoongi says, "Never without you." And they hoist Joon up with them. I'm super emo now.
Point being Namjoon is very proud of his ability to lead and literally carry all of the burden so his found family can live freely. #Namjoonforpresident
(Also, he found the most amazing group of people he could possibly lead from ashes to world domination)
This man deserves the world.
Jimin
* Knight of Wands, Wheel of Fortune, 2 of Cups*
Jimin is so cute. He is most proud of his ability to draw people in and wrap them around his tiny little pinky. He obviously is proud of how passionate he is about what he does but I think the reason he cares so much about it is because he really values human connection. He is proud of the way he can make people feel like they are the one that Jimin is thinking about. He is proud that he can make people feel special, lucky and loved because he is really empathetic and sees us all as his close friends.
This boy
He is proud of his ability to make personal connections with anyone in his orbit.
Taehyung
* The Star, 5 of Swords rev.*
I think he is proud of his success and the way he stands out. This combo almost feels like he used to get so much shit for being weird and it fucked him up good but now people see it as a charming personality thing? If that makes sense? like, he's proud of him being himself and being successful because of it. I think he is proud that he can look back at young/past him and make peace that he is who he is and that is what literally makes him a star. He was fucking born for this.
It feels like being bullied for being tall in middle school and doing anything you can to look shorter, but then later in life you become a godess-like model and you have to go back and forgive yourself for not loving your gorgeous self.
That's the vibe I get from this and it's so pure. Protect baby bear at all costs.
Jungkook
*High Priestess, 10 of Cups*
Oh boy. Jk is proud of his intuition. It's what got him to Bighit in the first place. He has such high regard for his intuition and I bet he gets mad stomach aches when something bothers him. This boy is so proud of the community that he has around him. He is so ridiculous proud to say that he has his ARMY. To him, success and singing and dancing wouldn't bring him the same joy and elation if he couldn't share it with us. He wants us all to know that we are his motivation, his driving force. The boys are his everything. Period. He would give up every material possession if he had to just to stay with BTS and ARMY. Like he would give the shirt off of his back for any one of us. You feel? He cares so much that what he is most proud of about himself is that he attracted such amazing people into his life and I think he is in awe of it every single day. This man is humble and don't you dare for a second think that he doesn't care about us or you or BTS. He got actual tattoos that will never come off because he is so thankful to us and the members.
Jk makes me feel like a proud mom and I will fight anyone who hurts my baby.
#bts#seokjin#yoongi#bts jhope#bts rm#namjoon#hoseok#bts jimin#taehyung#jungkook#jk#bts tarot#bangtan#bts imagines#bts reactions#bts astrology
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Lost or Found - 9
Summary: As Jay, Hailey, Kim, Adam and Kevin start their junior year in the wake of a tragic summer, the past year of their lives comes back to haunt them. If you enjoyed Pretty Little Liars, this is for you! *UPSTEAD/BURZEK High School AU
...
9 - Happiness is a Butterfly ...
Hailey leaned against Jay’s truck while she waited for him, once again he was her ride home. The events from the night before replayed in her head and she couldn’t keep the smile off her face when she saw him walking toward her. They hadn’t spoken alone since it happened, they had seen each other in class of course, but they were surrounded by their friends. She wasn’t sure what she was expecting from him, as close as they had gotten she still couldn’t read him. She wasn’t sure anybody could.
The smile on Hailey’s face was priceless as Jay approached her, his stomach churned with guilt, but Adam’s words were ingrained in his brain. He enjoyed the fleeting moment of complete happiness while it lasted, pretending that he wasn’t going to have to end whatever existed between them in a few short moments. As much as he hated it, it wasn’t fair to her. She deserves someone who knew exactly what they wanted and how they were feeling and not wrapped up in all the shit that they were.
“Hey stranger.” She said smirking, Jay took her in. She was leaning against his truck, and for some reason the sight of her pushing herself off of it had him feeling some type of way. Her blonde hair was falling down over her shoulders, which was a rare occurrence, and her black ripped jeans were a perfect fit.
Jay snapped out of his trance, suddenly realizing that she was probably watching his eyes scan her body. “Hey.” He rounded the truck to the drivers side, “Good day?” He asked over the roof.
Hailey used the running board to launch her small frame into the front seat, causing Jay to stifle a laugh. “Yeah, you?”
Jay nodded, “Pretty good.” He revved the engine and pulled out of the parking space. “Adam almost glued his hand to his face during shop.”
Hailey laughed, “I wish I could’ve seen that.”
“Don’t worry, I took pictures,” Jay said, giving her a cheeky grin.
Hailey returned the favor, turning to look out the window. She watched the houses go by and placed her hand on the center console next to where Jay’s was already resting, she kept her eyes trained on the blur of trees. She waited patiently for the moment when he would intertwine their hands, but moved hers back to her lap when she realized it wasn’t coming. Pink flush tinted her cheeks and she didn’t dare look at him now.
Jay grimaced as Hailey pulled her hand away, it took everything in him not to take it out of her lap. He wasn’t quite sure how to go about the whole situation, he cared deeply about her and the last thing he wanted to do was hurt her. That was the very thing he was trying to avoid. The selfish part of him wanted to just say “screw it” and be with her, life was short, they all knew that now. But all the reasons why he kissed her were also why he shouldn’t have.
“Hailey--”
“Jay don’t.” She said, finally turning to face him. “Don’t explain anything please. I get it.”
Jay swallowed hard, “I’m sorry--”
“Let’s just pretend it didn’t happen.” She cut him off again.
Jay considered trying to explain again, but he figured it was a mute point. He wasn’t going to be able to get a word in.
In the passenger seat Hailey’s eyes stung. Out of all the ways that she could have imagined this conversation going, she wasn’t prepared for this one. Hell, it wasn’t even a conversation, but she knew exactly what would’ve been said. Hailey didn’t want a half assed explanation or an apology, it had been a mistake, he had made a mistake, there was nothing that she could do about it. Groveling or talking it out wouldn’t dull the pain in her chest, thankfully she had gotten pretty good at ignoring the feeling all together.
She busied herself on her phone, texting Kim to see if she could come over. She was in some serious need of girl time. As soon as she responded Hailey spoke up. “Can you take me to Kim’s house please?” She never looked over at him, she kept her eyes trained on the road.
Jay nodded and took the next left instead of right. The drive was short, and Hailey already had her seatbelt unbuckled before they even reached the driveway. “Hailey, I’m sorry.” He said as she got out.
“It’s fine, Jay, really. I’ll see you tomorrow.” And with that she slammed the door.
…
Less than 10 minutes later Jay found himself sitting in Adam’s room. He thought he was going to be spending the afternoon with Hailey, but obviously plans changed. Instead he was sitting on the floor with his U.S. History textbook open in front of him. Homework stopped for no man, or stalker for that matter.
Adam groaned, spinning around to face Jay. “Have you done the pre-calc homework yet?”
“Man, I haven’t even started.” Jay said, cracking a smile.
“Damnit.” Adam grumbles, “I’m never going to finish this, Wilson is a tyrant.”
Jay knew exactly what Adam was talking about, their history teacher, Mrs. Wilson had assigned them three chapters to read plus notes and it had to be done by the next class. Which unfortunately was tomorrow. “I’m halfway through chapter two.” Jay said, holding up his scribbled notebook.
“I’ll give you the answers to half of the pre-cal work if you give me your chapter one notes.” Adam proposed. Jay chuckled and shook his head. “I don’t want your pre-cal work.” Adam glared at him, but Jay handed him the notes from the first chapter anyway.
“I love you.” Adam said as he fake prayed to Jay, who kicked his hands away. “I don’t know how the girls are doing it, AP, I swear Kim is taking twenty-five of them this year.”
Jay nodded in agreement, “I don’t either.”
The two worked in silence for a long time. Finally Jay broke it by sighing dramatically. “I’m done.” Adam cocked an eyebrow, “With the history shit.” He reluctantly pulled out his pre-calc textbook and flipped to the correct page. The assignment sheet said problems 35-63, it was going to be a long night
“So, did you talk to Hailey?” Jay looked between his homework and Adam, math was sounding a lot better than the latter at the moment.
“Yep.” Jay said, avoiding Adam’s gaze. “Translating log functions…” He trailed off, attempting to get Adam off his ass.
It worked for a few minutes, Jay had managed to get a few problems under his belt before Adam spoke up again. “Okay, it’s killing me. What happened?” Adam leaned forward in his chair, smirking slightly.
“Nothing really.” He sighed, chuckling a bit. “She didn’t even let me get a word in.”
“Sheesh, that bad?”
Jay shook his head, “I honestly don’t know, she just said that she understood and I didn’t have to explain.”
Adam cocked an eyebrow, “I don’t know if you are the luckiest son of a bitch in the world or if you are just out of touch with reality.” Jay shrugged. “You sure she’s not pissed?” Adam asked.
“One hundred percent.”
…
“I’m pissed.” Hailey said to Kim as she ran her fingers through her hair. She had told Kim what happened as she paced around the room, Kim sat on her bed clutching a pillow. “I completely understand where he is coming from. I get it, there is so much going on right now, neither of us really needs to be in a relationship right now.” She stopped her back and forth motions. “Just--why did he kiss me just to shut me down?”
Kim shrugged, giving her a kind smile. “I don’t know Hailes.” Kim didn’t know how to comfort her friend, Adam was her first boyfriend and they had jumped right in the deep end, so far it had worked out well for them. She watched Hailey cautiously as she stared into the full length mirror leaning against the wall, she fiddled with her shirt, pulling it away from her stomach. Hailey stuck her leg out in front of her, looking at herself in a different way. Kim sighed, “Hailey, stop.” She said.
Her friend turned to face her, her eyes glassy. Kim jumped up and hugged her, ignoring the fact that Hailey was not a hugger. Hailey pulled away a little while later and wiped under her eye. “I’m sorry.” Kim kept a comforting hand on her shoulder. “I don’t even understand what’s wrong with me. I just-I just keep thinking about Erin.”
Hailey felt terrible, feeling jealous of a dead girl was not a good feeling. Not only that, but how can someone make you feel self-conscious from the grave? She hated comparing herself to Erin, she just couldn’t help it.
“Hailey you are allowed to be upset about this.” Kim said. “You can understand him and forgive him and still be upset.” Hailey nodded, hating herself for yet another moment of weakness. First with Jay, now with Kim, she was letting her walls down more and more. Telling them about her dad had been a step in the wrong direction, letting people in only got you hurt, today proved that. “You wanna go get ice cream?”
“Yeah.”
…
Jay was pretty sure that his pile of homework was endless, he had finally gotten back to work after he and Adam’s short conversation about Hailey, but he wasn’t getting much done. A familiar ringtone sounded throughout the room and both of their heads shot up. Looks like they were done for the night. Jay grabbed Erin’s phone out of the bag and read the message out loud.
Blocked ID: There’s already been one heart broken today, let’s make it two. It’s time for the heartbreaker to go back to his old ways. Call Kim and end it.
“No. I’m not doing it.” Adam said.
“Adam--”
“No Jay.” He ran his hands through his hair and down his face. “She is my person, she gets hurt either way, I can only protect her from one.”
Jay nodded, he wasn’t sure if he could let go of Hailey if he had to. There had to be a way to save everybody. “We should probably go over there.”
“Let’s go.”
…
Fifteen minutes after Hailey and Kim were headed for Kim’s car. It was parked in the free standing garage behind their house. Kim unclasped the latch on the door and pushed it up, entering keys in hand.
“What are you thinking? Scoops?” Kim asked.
Hailey turned to face her, ready to respond, but there was a loud crack. “Ki--” She tried to scream, but before she could the dark shadow reached her and the baseball bat made contact with her head.
Kim woke up groaning, she didn’t remember how she had gotten where she was, but she knew her head hurt like hell. She pried herself on the floor and scanned the room. She was pretty sure she was in her garage, it was dark so obviously the door was closed and her car was running.
She began to panic, “Hailey? Hailey…” She breathed out, her chest felt heavy and as she stood up she used the wall for balance.
Hailey woke up to the sound of her name, she touched her hand to her forehead, pulling it away to find it red with blood. Kim eventually reached the driver side door and pulled as hard as she could, causing herself to go stumbling backwards. It was locked.
“Kim?” Hailey asked, pushing herself up. Her head was swimming. “What happened?”
Kim fought back tears as she yanked the handle again. “I don’t know, but we have to get out of here.”
It was in that moment that Hailey understood the gravity of the situation. They were trapped with a running car. She thought back to the safety training classes they had in middle school. There was no doubt that they were both suffering from carbon monoxide poisoning, they needed to stay awake.
“Do you-Do you want to try to lift up the door?” Hailey asked, stumbling over her words. Kim nodded and they both got to the garage door as fast as they could. “Ok, 1-2-3.” They both pulled with all their strength, which was fleeting fast.
Kim took a breath, “L-Let’s try a-again.” Hailey positioned herself again and the girls pulled with everything in them. There was no way that door was budging. Kim’s eyes filled again, this was the closest to death that she had ever been and she wasn’t ready for it.
Hailey looked around, trying to find anything to get them out of there. She spotted a tennis racket leaned against the back wall and she rushed toward it. “Kim! We can try and break a window.” There was no response. “Kim?” Hailey panicked when she saw the way Kim had herself braced against the car, her chest heaving.
“Hailey I can’t breathe.” Hailey took that as an opportunity to jam the handle of the rackett into the driver’s side window. It didn’t make a dent, she hit it again and again, but in her current state she wasn’t strong enough. Kim gagged and then proceeded to empty the contents of her stomach onto the floor. Hailey gave up on the rackett and rushed to her side. “Oh shit, Kim.” She knew that wasn’t a good sign. Kim fell to her knees and Hailey went with her, trying to keep her from hitting the floor too hard. “You have to stay awake.” Kim nodded, bracing herself against the floor. She needed help. Her phone.
Hailey pried herself off the floor once again and maneuvered herself to the garage door when she had first gone down. It had to be around there somewhere. She heard a thud behind her and turned to see Kim collapsed on the floor. The fast turn of her head sent her tumbling into the wall and she ricocheted onto the floor. Hailey laid there completely helpless, she was out of strength and out of time.
Adam pulled into Kim’s driveway with Jay in the front and Kevin in the back. He was a nervous wreck and was out of the car before it was completely in park. “Kim!” He shouted. They checked the backdoor, which was the only door her family used, it was locked and no lights were on in the house.
“Hailey?” Jay yelled, neither of them were answering their phone.
Kevin walked towards the garage, he heard a rumbling. “Dude do you think someone’s in there?”
“Hailey!” The voice got Hailey’s attention, causing her to lift her head up off the floor. “Hailey, where are you?” The voice shouted again. Using every ounce of strength she had left, Hailey kicked the garage door and let her head hit the floor again, hoping that it would be enough.
All three boys heard the thud against the door and scrambled to get it open. The sight in front of them was terrifying, they all gasped and sprung into action. Jay was immediately at Hailey’s side, he flipped her over and pressed his hand to the gash on her forehead. “Hailey, stay with me.”
Hailey’s eyes fluttered open, but only for a second. The image of him leaning over her was coming in and out of focus, almost to the point where Hailey thought it was a dream. “Jay?” It was barely audible, but it was music to his ears.
“Yeah Hailes. It’s me, I’m here.” He said, grabbing her hand. “Hailey’s awake!” He called to Adam and Kevin, Kevin nodded before relaying information to the 911 operator. He had called amongst the craziness.
“Kim’s not.” Adam cried out, clutching his girlfriend in his arms. “Man she threw up and she’s not responding.”
Jay grimaced, he was splitting his attention between the two of them. He felt for Adam, but he had to keep Hailey awake. “Did you shake her?”
“Jay, I tried everything!” He yelled back, Jay realized it was a stupid question the moment he asked it, but he didn’t know what to do.
He focused on Hailey again, who’s eyes were threatening to close again. “Hailey, Hailey, you’ve got to stay awake.” He said, gripping her hand harder. “You’re safe, everything is going to be fine, but I need you to stay awake.
Hailey squeezed his hand, showing him that she understood. She focused on taking deep breaths, she felt like she could finally breathe again. The sound of sirens was a welcome assault to her ears, in what felt like no time she was in the back of the ambulance, but in the process she had been ripped away from Jay.
The paramedics were telling her the same thing Jay was, that she had to keep her eyes open, that she had to stay awake, but they weren’t as convincing. And after fighting for what felt like hours, Hailey let herself drift away.
…
A/N: Wow this was a long chapter! First, I’m sorry for writing Adam like a little bitch but I love him and I think he’s funny. Second, I know Hailey is a little softer in this than she is on the show, but they are still in high school and I feel like she would be more emotional and unpredictable at this age. Thanks for reading!
#jay halstead#hailey upton#upstead#upstead au#kim burgess#adam ruzek#burzek#burzek au#kevin atwater#erin lindsay#chicago pd#chicago pd au#one chicago
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Change of Pace - 18 (Summer 2019)
cowritten by @achinglyshawn
summary: Shawn and Maya meet again 10 years after life got in the way of love
warnings: language
wc: 12k
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“—acting on your best behavior, turn your back on Mother Nature—“
Shawn is 20 minutes early to pick Maya up.
“—wants to rule the world.”
He’s parked a block away, humming to Tears For Fears as his fingers tap anxiously across his jean-clad thighs.
He couldn’t sit still at home. He closed the shop early so he could comb through his closet that he’s suddenly worried is too poor-artist-chic (read: covered in paint) for the new Maya.
Not that he thinks she really cares about anything like that, but he’s seen her clothes. They’re way fancier now. He’s almost jealous.
He’s always had a thing for nice clothes and fashion. He’s just never had enough extra money to spend on those things. He always spent whatever profit he made on instruments to refurbish and materials for new models and other toys for his shop.
He thinks, maybe, he needs more hobbies. And he needs to start traveling.
He’s a bit intimidated as thinks of all the things Maya’s seen and done and the places she’s been. He’s lived a life shacked up in his workshop. He’s sheltered compared to her.
They both used to be sheltered before. Now he feels miles behind her.
Finally fed up with what he’d considered meager offerings from his own closet, Shawn decided to borrow a clean, plain black t-shirt from Geoff. Then he tugged on the new pair of deep blue skinnies Maya bought him the other week and tried not to feel weird about it.
Now he sits in his Jeep and listens to music, his light denim jacket hugging his biceps the way she says she likes, and he’s hoping it’s enough to impress her while still looking, like, chill enough for go-karting.
He’s probably overthinking it.
The alarm on his phone finally goes off.
7:04 pm. Perfect.
Shawn turns up Celebrity Skin by Hole and cranks the engine of his aging Jeep. He drives cautiously around the block, just to kill at least another few minutes, then finally parks in front of Maya’s cottage. He contemplated hooking into the alley to park in her garage like he had all summer, but tonight is different.
She’s offering a fresh start for them, if he wants it. He’s not going to fuck it up before it even gets going.
Maya fidgets, poking at an errant splotch of nail polish that made it out to her cuticle from when she painted them earlier. She’s been trying to distract herself all day from their date. Surfing, painting, drawing. She ate ravenously around 5:30, feeling like a grandma. But she wanted plenty of time to get ready.
How do you dress for a first date with the love of your life?
Go-karting is inherently casual, which is in a way harder to dress for. Casual summer feels skimpy to her and she doesn’t want to look like she’s expecting to get laid tonight. Because they’re Not Doing That. Slow and steady.
So she wants to show some skin but not so much that she’s irresistible just… distracting. After a long debate, she chooses a pair of cigarette-thin white capris and a turquoise tank that makes her tan glow. Even with that and the light makeup and hair, Maya is ready outrageously early. She curses herself for it because now she has more time to sit and stew.
What if go-karting is a bad idea? I mean, they’re trying to be grown ups. Maybe this is the wrong move? No, no it’s fine, it’s supposed to be low key and fun. What if they stumble over talking to each other all night? What if they don’t know how to be grown ups?
Maya rolls her eyes at herself and flops back on the bed just in time to hear his Jeep crackle over her gravel driveway. She flings herself upright, fixes her hair and scurries down the stairs, quieting her steps so he doesn’t hear how eager she sounds.
He climbs the stairs to her porch two at a time, trying to get the nervous energy out any way he can before he sees her. He hums. Rocks on his toes, then his heels. Checks his phone. 7:10. A little too on the nose. He takes a breath. 7:11. Good enough.
He knocks.
She opens the door with a glowing smile, deciding it’s not too much to look happy to see him.
“Hey,” she says breathlessly, “You look… so great.”
She ducks her head a little, blushing like a teenager.
He’s a little busy staring at her to reply immediately; he looks at her as if he doesn’t already know how beautiful she is. It feels like he doesn’t. Everything feels new, tonight, somehow. New, but also better.
Shawn finally snaps to.
“You look way out of my league,” he says with a laugh, puffing his chest slightly as he tries to pretend his cheeks aren’t turning red.
Maya chooses to ignore his comment and decides to focus on the seeping blush in his cheeks because it looks so very good on him.
“Oh,” his brows raise, and then he shoves his hand into his pocket, fishing out the wine red and navy woven friendship bracelet he hid there earlier. He always meant to give it to her. He hadn’t finished it before she left.
It feels a little silly now. A near 40-year-old man dangling something he made as a kid from his fingers like she’ll think it’s as special as he does.
He wants her to have it, anyway. Even if she thinks it’s silly and throws it away.
“I, uh, I found this. A few weeks ago, like, buried in an old college bag I was digging through. I didn’t-- I mean, it wasn’t finished so I finished it and I thought you might like it. But now I’m thinking that I probably should’ve gone with daisies.”
She watches curiously as he digs through his pocket and produces a present. She recognizes the thread, remembers that he used to spend hours on the beach while she surfed tying bracelets together. It was good for his fidgety fingers when he didn’t have his guitar.
Maya shrugs and feels a flush in her own cheeks that she knows she can’t fight. “Daisies die. This will last longer,” She holds her wrist out with a smile, “Would you tie it on for me, please?”
Shawn’s lips spread in a pleased smile. She wants to wear it. It seems like a stupid thing to be happy over but. He can’t help it.
It feels special. Little victories, right?
“Oh, yeah, totally. C’mere,” he murmurs, corner of his mouth quirked. He cups the back of her hand to bring her wrist closer, then loops the thin bracelet around her, tying the frayed ends together tightly enough so it won’t fall off, but with enough room for her skin to breathe.
Maya likes the bracelet very much. It’s like a portable version of her painting of them as kids at the Avila house -- a reminder of who they were and what they can become if they hold on.
Shawn smiles at her when he’s finished, stepping aside so she has room to close the door and lock up behind her. As she navigates her keys into her bag, Shawn tilts his head. “Still okay with go-karting?”
“Completely. And I thought maybe we’d get ice cream after.”
A little impulsively, because she thinks it’ll help take the edge off for both of them, she leans in and pecks his cheek quickly.
Shawn turns scarlet. Her lips on his cheek burn in the sweetest way. He grins at her, slow and coy, as she drops away from him. He catches her wrist as she goes, slipping his hand into hers, fingers intertwined.
“I like ice cream,” he murmurs, then tugs her along, guiding her down the stairs and to his Jeep. He helps her inside and definitely does not let his gaze linger on the curve of her ass as she climbs onto her seat.
Shawn closes the door once she’s settled then jogs around to the driver’s side.
She didn’t have to worry for very long whether the cheek kiss was a good idea. The heat rushes to his face fast and furious. He takes her hand in his own gesture of closeness and helps her into his car like a gentleman.
He smiles at Maya as he slips into the car. He revs the Jeep to life, Courtney Love once again rasping through the speakers. Hooking an arm around the neck of the passenger’s seat, Shawn backs down the driveway and into the street. Then they’re off, driving along the beach towards the go-kart track.
“So,” Shawn starts, trying to sound far more casual than he feels, “How was your day?”
Maya smiles at his music choice and makes a mental note to ask him about it later. It’s a good, easy step into their deep pool of getting to know each other again.
She looks back at him from the singing white sand of the beach. She stifles a goofy grin at his question because it feels so very first date-y and she likes it. She likes the effort they’re both putting in tonight.
“Uhm… it was good. I got out to the beach early, the surf forecast looked great. I got my longboard out there for a couple hours. I stayed and swam around with a snorkel for awhile too, I found some cool fish that were kind of silver, I tried to google them to figure out what they were…”
Maya rambles. He likes it. He could listen to her ramble all day, about anything. He loves her voice, has always found it soothing. He smiles as he listens.
She hears herself stalling. She cuts to the chase.
“And I spent all afternoon in my studio working on a new piece. It’s almost finished.”
“Oh yeah?” She hasn’t really mentioned her art to him all summer. He doesn’t feel like he knows Maya the artist at all anymore, save for the thimble on his back. He hopes she hasn’t changed her mind about letting him get it inked into his skin.
“Do-- I mean, can you tell me about it? You don’t have to, but, you know. I like knowing about your art.”
Shawn glances at her, his lips pressed together as he watches her watch the beach. He gets his eyes back to the road before she can catch him.
Maya feels the difference. This is the kind of question she would’ve dodged all summer. As close as he got, as close as she wanted him, she could never let him in this far. But after their showdown last week, it feels different now. It feels better.
“I started it last week after… uhm, after we fought. I had this image in my head that I couldn’t really get away from so I thought getting it out in paint would help. It’s… it’s a memory, I guess, of you and me and our last night in Avila. We’re on the daybed watching the sunset on the deck. To me, it’s a reminder. That we’re not kids anymore. That we can be more than that now if… we want.”
She looks over from her window to smile at him. “But I’m painting it to look like a photo so all the detail, y’know, it takes a while to get it perfect. I’ve been smelling like turpentine for days.”
“Oh,” he chokes, like an idiot. Shawn wasn’t expecting all of that. He’s not sure what he imagined her painting this summer, but he never let himself think it had anything to do with him.
He feels the flush creep up the back of his neck again.
“That sounds really cool, Maya. I think, you know, I’d like to see it some time. When it’s finished or whenever.” He pulls up to a stoplight, leans his head back against his seat and looks over at her. He smiles. “But only if you’re okay with that.”
He knows, almost better than anyone, that art can be personal. It’s why he doesn’t play his music anymore. It digs too deep and he doesn’t know how to share that with people, except for the occasional lyric or two with his therapist, or a song here and there with Geoff.
It’s hard, baring your soul for people to critique. He doesn’t want to push a boundary by asking to see hers too soon.
Maya is surprised by how much she wants him to see it once he offers his interest. All summer she’s painted. She’s illustrated loud, catastrophic shapes without definition or meaning and none of it has felt like her at all. She never painted that way before. Now that she’s creating her own way again, she finds she really does want to share it with him. She doesn’t want to hide.
“I’d love to show it to you. I only need a couple more hours with it I think before it’s officially time to leave it the hell alone.”
Maybe after they’ve spent some more time together, this slow, pressure-free, easy time, maybe he’ll let her draw or paint him again. She hasn’t sketched him since she came back to Avila. She looks over at him while he pulls into the parking lot and looks critically at the planes and angles of his face, imagining him in charcoal or fine graphite pencil. He’d be beautiful.
Shawn can feel Maya looking at him. He tries not to blush. He feels her gaze on him the way he used to back in college, when she would think about which angles of his she most wanted to draw. Which were dramatic, or soft, or romantic, or somber.
She used to go on about it, but now, if she’s thinking it, she doesn’t share. Just watches him as he navigates the parking lot, then slides into a spot with enough room on either side for them to get out.
He kills the engine. Turns to look at her with a careful smirk tugging his lips.
“Hi,” he starts. “Finished staring at me?”
He calls her out with that smirk she loves. She beams at him. “I’ll let you know.”
She lets herself out of the Jeep and links her fingers with his again while they head toward the go-kart track. It’s outdoors, so they can hear the engines and smell the gas. It makes Maya chuckle.
“I haven’t done this in… god, I have no idea, actually. It’s definitely safe, right?”
She’s not too worried, it’s a family friendly joint and they have helmets and stuff. Maybe it’s her residual first date nerves that have her keyed up.
Shawn grins, turning on his heel to walk backwards as he squeezes her hand reassuringly.
“C’mon Lemon. It’s obviously super safe. And I’m pretty sure they got brand new carts like 6 months ago.”
He gives her a wink then turns back around, navigating his arm over her shoulders while keeping their fingers linked.
He calls her ‘Lemon’ again and it makes her light up from the inside out. She wants to spin around in circles and squeal like a teenager who just got asked to prom. Instead she shivers at his wink and lets him cuddle up to her. He smells great, just like he always does. She puts her arm around his waist and enjoys the way a middle aged mom looks at them while she waits for her husband and sons to wrap around the track.
There are a few people in line at the little kiosk outside, so as they wait, Shawn pulls out his wallet and holds onto it. He doesn’t want her getting any funny ideas.
He’s been planning to splurge on the all-access wristbands that let them do as many laps as they want and play as many arcade games as they want. So, endless air hockey, if that’s what Maya wants. `
His wallet dangles casually from his fingers, but in her line of sight. Just so she’ll get the hint. He squeezes her hand again.
Shawn is up front with the wallet and she appreciates it. She would’ve of course offered to at least split it but he sends the signal loud and clear and it’s sweet and boyishly romantic. She squeezes his fingers right back.
He springs for the good wristbands and she cracks a joke about him basically paying to have his ass kicked repeatedly at air hockey. They get to pick helmets and she picks a pink one.
“So this isn’t like bumper cars, right? I don’t get to smash into people if they’re in my way?”
Shawn barks out a laugh. What he would give to watch Maya chase people down on the track. He shakes his head as they head for the cars.
“I think you should try it and see what happens, eh?”
She giggles. “I don’t want to get us kicked out of this place before the date even really starts.”
But she knows as well as he that she gets carried away with her competitive drive sometimes. So who knows.
Shawn slips his lime green helmet on his head and clicks the strap beneath his chin. There’s another line to wait in, set up between metal bars that lead to a row of karts. Shawn flips around and leans against one bar, fingers curling around the metal as he smirks down at Maya.
“Air hockey might be your game, but I’m about to kick your ass at mine.” Shawn reaches from the bar for her wrist, pulling her closer to him in line.
“Can you ever forgive me?”
Maya follows suit and slips on her neon pink helmet. The strip digs in under her chin but he distracts her easily by tempting her with a challenge.
She closes her eyes and sighs as he pulls her in. She plants a hand next to where he leans against the rail and tilts toward him conspiratorially.
“You’re awful confident for a 35-year-old going go-karting.”
She smirks triumphantly.
Shawn shrugs, grinning and looking down at his old chucks. He glances up at her without lifting his head.
“Maybe there’s an Avila go-kart league. You don’t know.”
Maya snorts and pictures it, Shawn, and surely Geoff because where Shawn goes, Geoff goes, even to this day -- the two of them bouncing around a go-kart track, chasing each other around like children, having a blast, one-upping each other whenever possible.
He grins, then straightens up, sliding down the bar as the line moves along. They’re near the front, but the line stops again as all the karts are on the track. Shawn sighs and pushes himself off of the bar.
He slips behind Maya and drapes his arms over her shoulders. He presses his chin to the top of her pink helmet.
“Wake me up when it’s our turn, Lu.”
Maya keeps her silly grin in check as he drapes himself comfortably over her. She feels dainty. It’s kinda nice. As the line moves, she shuffles forward, pulling him along.
She places her hands over his wrists and rubs his forearms where she knows he gets sore from detailing instruments all day. She hums from the back of her throat curiously.
“Why are you so tired, hun?”
Shawn sighs, shuffling along behind her.
“Couldn’t sleep,” he says, flipping one hand over so he can catch her fingers in his. He tugs at her gently. “Too nervous thinking about my date with this really incredible woman. I dunno if you know her.”
She could tell he was nervous, too. Hearing him admit it is kinda sweet, though. She imagines him rolling over in his bed, rumpling the sheets, heaving a sigh because he can’t decide if he wants to wear a blue shirt or a white shirt. It makes her smile so big her face hurts.
His fingers are thick and warm between hers. She massages them gently and lets herself bask in it a little.
“Bet she was nervous too,” she murmurs.
Eventually, Shawn has to untangle himself from around Maya as they’re ushered out of the bars and towards the line of now unoccupied go-karts. He keeps their fingers linked until the last moment, only dropping her to climb into his kart.
He buckles in, looking over as he watches Maya crawl into her own kart.
“What do I get when I win?” he calls to her, grinning wide.
The karts are bigger than she pictured but still small enough that watching Shawn crawl into one makes her laugh. As the engines rev, he gets cocky.
Maya drapes her fingers over her steering wheel and steps past the dozen or so dirty jokes she’d make right now if it were a week or two ago. She smiles falsely.
“There are prizes in the gum ball machine out front, cowboy. Or were you thinking of something else?”
Shawn can’t stop grinning. Maya never misses an opportunity to tease him. He likes it. He likes that she keeps him on his toes.
“I was thinking you could buy my ice cream. And let me get extra toppings.”
He winks at her, can’t help it, can’t feel anything but excited, nervous jitters right now that have his cheeks hurting from all the smiling.
Maya tips her head back and laughs, feeling the adrenaline start to surge.
“Any topping you want,” she promises. When she gets like this, she’s hard to beat at anything. She’ll have fun watching him try.
Over the speaker, a man announces 30 seconds until the green light. Shawn shifts in his seat, settling a bit lower and curling his fingers around the steering wheel. He revs the engine, still blocked in behind the gates that have yet to drop.
He wonders, for a moment, if letting Maya win is the polite thing to do. But Shawn knows she’ll give him so much shit if he does that. She only likes winning if it’s a fair game. He looks over to her, seated in her kart with her hands draped casually over the wheel.
He smiles. The countdown continues.
Shawn settles in and she thinks it’s completely ridiculous how sexy he looks revving up a go-kart. It sets off a flurry of excitement that she knows is only egged on by her need to win.
She tightens her fingers around the wheel when the countdown hits the five second mark. When it hits 0, “GO!” flashes big and bright on the screen over the track. Maya’s reflexes are better, probably honed by surfing, and she gets off the blocks first.
The kart is bulky and difficult to manage, probably to keep people from going too fast or getting too dangerous. She gets distracted trying to turn around the first corner. Shawn gets the inside edge.
Maya swears under her breath and careens around the turn behind him, swerving around a middle schooler who’s not strong enough to turn the wheel quickly. She stomps on the gas around the second turn and comes up on the outside, but he holds her off.
The remaining thirty seconds of the race have Shawn holding steady in first place. He wins pretty handily. As they pull back into the start gate, Maya huffs.
“How do you turn this thing so easily? What are you, the hulk?!”
He knew he would win, if only because he and Geoff do this like, more often than they probably should as grown-ass adults. It’s a beach town thing, though. The go-karting league is totally real, too, and something he’s pretty good at.
They’ve got unlimited access to the track with their wrist bands, so they get to sit and wait for the next round while others climb out of their karts and new drivers pile in. Shawn grins, leaning back in his seat and draping his arm over the steering wheel as he shrugs.
“Not my fault you skimp on arm day, Lemon.”
They watch as the new drivers get settled into their karts, and the announcer makes another 30 second warning.
“C’mon baby,” he says, glancing over her as the countdown nears 5, “Don’t go so easy on me.”
He winks, and the lights on the screen above the track flash from red to yellow to green, then ‘GO!’ and with that, they’re off.
Maya makes it off the block before him again, but he’s got the first turn clinched. The steering wheel isn’t so much heavy as it is bulky and awkward, and he knows that’s what Maya struggles with as he zooms past her on the inside of the track.
Three laps later and he zooms past the finish line and pulls into the gate about 3 seconds before she does. He settles back into his kart with a smile.
“I think that was better than last time,” he laughs.
By the time they’re pulling back into the start gate, Maya’s ears are still ringing from him calling her “baby,” even just teasingly. It feels like a year since he’s called her that. She decides to quietly blame that for her bad second race.
She pouts and slaps the steering wheel when they pull back into the gate. “You are way too good at this. We need to get you out more if this is how you and Geoff are spending your Friday nights.”
She smirks because she’s kidding but also because she wants to be the one he spends his Friday nights with. Hopefully not go-karting because she totally sucks at it.
Shawn laughs, clicking open the hook of his helmet strap.
“No, no. Fridays are usually karaoke at the Sandtrap. Saturday is for go-karting. Plus, you just don’t like losing.”
He grins, wide and crooked at her, then plucks his helmet from his head and unfurls himself from the kart. He meanders to her kart, tucking the helmet beneath his arm and holding out a hand for her.
Maya sighs and lets her hands fall to her thighs. “Air hockey or ice cream next?”
“I guess I could let you kick my ass in air hockey. Make you feel better about sucking at go-karts.”
Maya tilts her head back and sighs pathetically, putting on a playful show. She lifts her hand weakly into his and lets him help her out of the kart. With one hand in his, she maneuvers out of the helmet and starts pulling him toward the arcade with a spark in her eyes.
“Let me or don’t let me, I’ll kick your cute little ass anyway, Mendes,” she teases.
Shawn laughs, shaking his head and squeezing her hand gently.
He waits until they’ve given back their helmets to taunt, “You think my ass is cute,” in a lilting, sing-song tone.
Maya giggles. “Your ass is adorable and you know it.”
She stops short of smacking it. But she thinks about it.
They head into the arcade and find that one of the two air hockey tables is free. Maya goes for the red paddle before he can argue. She squares up at one end of the table, patting her paddle on the table, wiggling her eyebrows.
“Any last words, babe?”
Shawn’s left with the blue paddle, but he knew he would be. They both love red, but Maya, the reigning champ, gets whatever she wants. He swipes his paddle and glides it in a large circle over the table.
“Just get the puck and show me what I’ve been missing, Lemon,” he urges with a smirk.
Maya hunches over the table and puts the puck in place, looking back at him with a mischievous grin when she flips the switch that turns on the air. The table whirs to life and the puck starts skimming around, sliding every which way the air blows it. Maya strikes first, shooting the puck across to him. He bounces it back, but Maya has it on the backstroke and slams it into his goal quickly.
“Your grip’s too tight,” she advises with a wizened nod, “Don’t choke down on the paddle.”
She’s good. Faster than he is getting to the puck. He thinks he’s too tall for this game, because he can’t hunch over the way she does to get nice and close to the table.
“Hey,” he grouses, reaching down for the puck in the slot. He twirls it between his fingers. “I didn’t trash your go-kart technique.”
He drops the puck on the table and clamps it down with his paddle. He glances up at her, then back down to his paddle.
Deep breath in, and then. He raises his paddle, releases the puck, and sends it flying towards Maya.
(He takes her tip about his paddle grip. It’s a pretty good one.)
His next shot sails into Maya’s goal before she can fling it back toward him. She smirks.
“Maybe the student’s becoming the master.”
She fishes the puck back out and repositions it. She and Shawn volley back and forth until he loses some focus and she swings another shot past him. She cracks her neck back and forth theatrically.
“Mmk, I’m all loosened up now. You’re not getting another shot past me.”
“Your confidence is truly inspiring, Lemon,” he answers with a smirk as he pulls the puck out from his slot.
He takes another shot.
Maya wins. He knew she would. He keeps up, mostly, scoring on her after she scores on him, but she always manages to stay a few points ahead. When she scores the winning goal, Shawn huffs and slides his blue paddle away, into the middle of the table where it floats around on it’s own, the air carrying one way then the other.
“Why do I even try?” he laments, pressing his palms into the edge of the table as he hangs his head.
Shawn looks back up at her after a moment, smirking a little. He tilts his head. “Will you give me a chance to win my dignity back? I can play a round of skee ball and get you that stuffed lion.”
She loves that she can still beat him in air hockey. The universe feels right and balanced. It’s cute the way he loses, though. He gets grumpy but not mean.
Maya strolls over to his side of the table and fishes one of his hands away from it, slipping her fingers between his to comfort him.
“By all means, please. I don’t think I have a lion from the safari you won me 15 years ago. My collection is sorely lacking,” she teases.
“Well,” Shawn hums, smiling down at her as he slides his thumb across her knuckles, “No animal kingdom is complete without its Lion King.”
She tugs him away from the table toward the row of skee ball setups, considering what she could beat him at next. Probably pinball. She’s always been so good at pinball.
He follows her to skee ball, holds his wristband over the scanner on one of the games that then shoots out a shiny white ball. He picks up the ball, spins it in his fingers and drops Maya’s hand.
“All right, honey,” he purrs, rolling the ball between his palms, “Get ready to be amazed. I’m even better at this than I am at go-karting.”
It’s probably not the sexiest thing to admit, but he’s always been good at skee ball. Long arms and all. Plus he’s got pretty good aim. God, he feels like he’s in high school, trying to impress the girl he likes by winning her prizes. It’s mostly a joke, but Shawn’s sure there will always be a part of him that wants desperately to impress Maya.
No matter how slow this relationship goes, that won’t change.
Shawn tosses the ball in the air once, catches it, then glides it along the smooth slope of the skee ball machine, where it flies over the ledge and pops up towards the corner. He holds his breath, and then the flashing lights go off as the ball drops into the hole that reads ‘100!’
“See,” he says with a grin, reaching for the next white ball the machine spits out. “Lion’ll be your before you know it.”
Maya stands back to watch as he starts racking up points. She crosses her arms over her chest and bites down on a stupid smile. He’s right, he’s excellent at this. And he’s a lot of fun to watch. His eyes are all focused until they light up just like the game in front of him.
“At this rate, you’re gonna win the whole jungle,” she laughs, shaking her head as she watches the point count on the board go higher and higher.
She props herself up against the wall. “Can I ask you something?” She decides not to wait to ask her question. “What made you come back to Avila after LA?”
He tosses the last ball just as she makes his heart stop with her inquiry. He wasn’t expecting it, like, at all.
The ball pops into the 50 point hole, and then it’s game over. Tickets start streaming out of the little slot at the bottom of the machine.
Shawn swallows and turns to face Maya, slipping his hands into his pockets. He rocks back on his heels and shrugs.
“Do you think I could-- I dunno. Could we get ice cream first?”
It sounds like a cop out, but he doesn’t think this is something he wants to talk about while waiting for the skee ball machine to finish spitting out their tickets.
Maya seals her lips together. He goes a little tense at her question and almost misses his shot. She swallows, hoping this isn’t too much too soon. She just… she wants to get to know him again.
Maya nods sheepishly and helps him fish his enormous bundle of tickets off the floor. They stack them in Shawn’s fist and start heading toward the prize counter.
Maya plays with her fingers as they walk in silence. It’s grating.
“I… sorry. I mean, you don’t have to talk about this. I don’t want to pressure you. I understand it might be hard to talk about.”
Shawn frowns. She doesn’t need to apologize. And he doesn’t not want to talk to her about it. When it was happening, she was the only person he wanted to talk to at all. He’s not sure why he hadn’t thought to tell her about it sooner, other than that he was subconsciously trying to pretend like their time apart never happened.
He can’t pretend anymore. He wants Maya to know everything about him, just like she used to.
“Hey, no,” he says when they reach the counter. He presses the tickets into the glass as they wait for the clerk to finish helping a gaggle of teen girls. “I want to talk about it. Just. Not while juggling all of these tickets.”
He gives her a crooked smile and reaches for her hand, now that his are free.
Shawn does a very effective job of making her feel less awkward about the question. His voice is warm and soft and he takes her hand comfortingly.
She loves holding his hand. It’s such a simple pleasure, but she found herself missing it in their many years apart, when she let herself think about him. She wraps her other hand around his so it’s sandwiched between both of hers.
“I can be patient,” she murmurs meaningfully, smiling up at him.
The clerk takes their tickets and Shawn asks him for the egregiously large stuffed lion that sits atop the mountain of prizes. Maya laughs when he hands it over. She tucks it under her arm.
“I don’t know where I’m putting this guy. Maybe he can live in my art studio,” she muses.
Shawn laughs, reaching over to fluff up a matted section of the lion’s mane.
“I think he’ll make a great companion for you there. Like a muse.”
Maya pictures propping her new lion friend up in the corner as a reminder of him. She likes that idea.
As they head toward the ice cream bar, Shawn lifts their linked fingers, bringing Maya’s knuckles to his lips. He brushes a kiss across her skin, another gesture of reassurance.
“Okay, Lu,” he says once they fold into the line, “What’s your poison?”
He looks up at the menu, considering which treat will go best with talking about his terrible time in LA. Probably anything with chocolate.
His lips kiss over her knuckles but the goosebumps spread far and wide. She sidles up next to him, holding his hand and cupping her other hand around his arm as he scans the menu.
“I’m going Classic. Chocolate dipped swirl with strawberry syrup and chocolate jimmies.”
She hasn’t gotten ice cream from a truck like this in so long. She smiles, turning in to press her lips to his shoulder while he decides.
Shawn grins. He likes Maya’s order. She always knew how to indulge. He feels her nudge a kiss into his arm, so he leans over and brushed his lips against the top of her head.
Maya thinks it’s funny how they’ve been kissing all night, just not on the mouth. They’ve never been shy about PDA. She doesn’t think they’re shy now either, but she does think they’re both taking the slow part of their new relationship seriously. And they’ve unspokenly decided too much kissing on the mouth is a bad idea.
She doesn’t mind, actually. Especially because the idea of getting one single, perfect goodnight kiss out of Shawn has her light on her feet.
“That sounds delicious, sugar,” he hums, then looks back to the men. “But I think I’ve gotta go with with Neapolitan swirl. Chocolate dip and rainbow jimmies.”
He wiggles his wallet out of his pocket as they step to the front of the line to order, feigns like he doesn’t remember giving her shit about buying him ice cream for winning at go-karts.
He places both of their orders and pays, leaving a few too many ones in the tip jar. He’s always been a hefty tipper, though. He gets it. He lived off of tips for long enough.
She decides not to fight him on paying, not after that absurd date she dragged him on a couple weeks ago. It’s not that she’s hurting for cash or anything, she just thinks that feeling on equal footing for as long as possible is good for them right now. She does kiss his cheek, though, a fat, wet plant of her lips with a giggle behind it and a “thank you” murmured in his ear.
Shawn’s lip twitch with a hint of smirk when Maya places a messy kiss on the apple of his cheek. He doesn’t get a chance to reciprocate, though, before they’re handed lavish ice cream cones that take a bit of extra effort not to drop.
Shawn guides Maya to one of the small plastic tables set up in front of the truck. He drops her hand so he can pull her seat out for her, a plastic green chair that scrapes obnoxiously on the asphalt beneath it.
She sits in the seat he offers and crosses her legs, taking a first few swipes at her cone to alleviate some dribbling. When they’re settled in, she smiles over at him chasing some jimmies down his hand. She decides to wait for him to launch into the LA thing because she doesn’t want to feel like she’s badgering him.
The lion sits on the table between them as Shawn settles into his cone. A few sprinkles fall from the ice cream and onto his fingers as he takes a bite from the top. “Mmph,” he mumbles as he sucks the colorful jimmies from his skin.
Maya laughs with her ice cream cone next to her mouth as she watches Shawn strategically attack his. She does her best not to slurp at hers but it’s hot and melting quickly.
He looks up at Maya from over the slope of the stuffed lion’s back and realizes she’s waiting for him to talk about LA. He licks a drop of ice cream from his lip and considers where to begin. He hasn’t spoken about this with anyone in like, four years. He’s only ever really discussed it with Leah and his therapist. Geoff was there, so they don’t have to talk about it.
“So, LA, right? I think the problem with LA is that, unless you have a solid game plan and like, people you can really trust, the city will chew you up and spit you out. And I didn’t have those things. I figured, I dunno, I could skate by on talent and sheer passion alone.”
Shawn shrugs, looking away from Maya to lick at the top of his ice cream. He crunches on sprinkles and licks chocolate sauce from the corner of his mouth.
“I never found a band that I really gelled with. Not musically, anyway. Either we disagreed about, like, our musical vision or whatever, or our personalities clashed or they were more obsessed with fame and drugs and hookers than actually like, being musicians.”
She listens intently. He doesn’t sound too broken up about it, helped, she suspects, by many years between then and now. Still, she considers as she watches him affectionately, it was his dream and he let it go.
She ducks her head in disappointment at his assessment of his former bandmates. “That must’ve been so hard. To feel so disconnected from them on something you’ve always wanted.”
She hopes he’s not too disappointed about his trajectory. He seems truly happy with his shop. She hopes he doesn’t have regrets.
Maya sounds sad for him. He doesn’t want that. He doesn’t feel sad about it. Not anymore anyway.
He takes a bite of his ice cream, crunches the jimmies.
“It’s okay. I mean, yeah, it sucked, but it also helped. It was formative, or whatever. And it made me realize that I didn’t really want that life, anyway. If I had really wanted it, I would’ve kept fighting for it. And I probably wouldn’t have done so much coke just to get through the nights.”
He doesn’t know how else to bring it up. That he fucked over his body in a way they both always said they hated and would never do.
It was easier to do it when he was alone and tired and disappointed with his life. He doesn’t ever miss it these days, though.
Maya feels like her heart drops into her stomach to slosh around with some melted ice cream. The vision of him is cold, standing in dirty club bathrooms waiting to go on at 2am with bandmates he doesn’t like, snorting a line off his hand. She closes her eyes.
“God, sweetheart,” she rasps, clearing the tears out of her throat with a shake of her head. They sting as they threaten to fall. She nourishes her sore throat with another bite of cold ice cream before she speaks again.
“Maybe our experiences weren’t so different,” she admits, lowering her gaze as she remembers her late nights spent on the opposite coast buying Adderall from her bro-y coworkers so she could work until 3 or 4am on an all-too-consistent basis.
His heart breaks at the sound of her voice. He didn’t mean to upset her with any of this. But she asked and he doesn’t want to tell her half-truths anymore.
“Lu,” he murmurs. He guesses he should’ve known, should’ve put it together, that being a hardworking business woman in Manhattan meant long days followed by longer nights only survived with the help of a stimulant or two. He hates that she got caught up in it too.
But it’s life, he guesses, and it made them who they are now.
She lifts her eyes to his, unafraid of his judgement, knowing he won’t put it on her. She smiles weakly. “I guess we can’t harp on this kind of stuff. We did what we felt we had to to survive. And we got ourselves out.”
Shawn scoots his chair around the table towards Maya, plastic legs scratching noisily across the asphalt. He turns it to face her, his knees digging into the arm of her chair. Reaching for her free hand with his, he pulls it into his lap and curls their fingers together.
“Hey,” he says with a smile, bringing her fingertips to his cold lips, “I’m glad we’re here now. You know?”
Maya watches with a nearly bursting heart as Shawn pulls himself over to sit closer to her. His lips are soft and cool. She thinks about leaning over to taste them but feels like the moment doesn’t quite call for it. Instead she thumbs at the dimple in his chin and smiles a little wider.
“You have no idea how glad I am that we’re here now,” she replies almost breathlessly.
She thinks he probably does have some idea, especially given how rough his years apart from her are starting to sound. They’ve been through the wringer. They both deserve to relax and take it in a little. The fact that they get to do it together is something Maya never imagined could happen again. She could let herself get swept up in it but wants to keep things fun and maybe a little lighter on this date because first dates are supposed to be fun.
Maya swipes her tongue around her dripping cone and traces her finger against his jaw affectionately. “Would you let me draw you again soon?”
He’s got an overwhelming urge to kiss her, but he resists by licking at his dripping ice cream instead. He’s making himself wait. He wants to deserve it. He wants her to remember the moment crisply, with the same sort of clarity you remember something that truly affected you, a sharp contrast to everything else because of how it changed your life.
Maybe he has romantically high hopes for this kiss.
Some habits die hard.
Shawn’s eyes fall shut as she traces the angle of his jaw. He sucks in a soft breath.
“You can draw me anytime you want, Lemon,” he murmurs, gazing at her from under hooded as his fingers curl around her wrist.
“I always thought I was a pretty good model,” he bites into his cone, giving Maya a crooked smile as he chews.
Maya goes pink. He reacts so well when she touches him, always. She leaves her warm fingers around the side of his neck, stroking gently at his curls. She loves the tiny ones that sit around his ears.
“You’ve always been my favorite model,” she promises, nodding firmly, “I have sketchpads full of proof of that.”
She smiles and bites into her own cone, looking off to reminisce. “I actually have all my old sketchbooks. If you go back far enough in my catalog, you can find the week we met. I think I started drawing you only a couple days after. I wasn’t very good then. I could never get your eyes right.”
He feels himself blushing. He misses the weight of her gaze on him as she sketched. He misses the way she would nudge his face with her fingertips to make sure his features caught the light just right. He misses how her cheeks would turn pink each time she finished a drawing with which she was particularly pleased.
He misses the privilege of admiring her many sketches, of him or otherwise, most of all.
“I always liked the way you did my eyes,” he hums, crunching into more of his cone.
“You made this one less droopy,” he says with a grin, pushing at the corner of his lazy eye. He laughs, “I really was so self-conscious about that back then.”
Maya finally lets him go with a swipe of her fingers through the curls at the nape of his neck. She takes another bite of ice cream and giggles with him, catching his fingers from his face to squeeze them in hers.
“I always loved it,” she tells him honestly after swallowing, “When you got tired, you looked like a puppy.”
She thinks of the nights they stayed up pretending to study in between long, languid kisses. They kissed like they had their entire lives to do it. They kissed arrogantly back then, like kids.
Maya takes the final bite, finishing off her cone. She clears her throat and looks over at him. “Don’t look much like a puppy now, though. All grown up.”
She can feel the heat in her face when she says it despite the frozen treat. She’s… hitting on him. It’s kinda funny.
Shawn is busy licking the remains of his ice cream from his fingers when he’s distracted by the raspy tone of her voice. He releases his thumb from his mouth with a wet pop and quirks a brow at her.
“Are you saying I’m not cute anymore?”
He pouts, but he can’t hold it for long and cracks a smile after a moment.
She swallows roughly and shakes out a laugh, then bashfully looks away. He knows how cute he is. He also knows how absolutely heart-stoppingly gorgeous he is. He wears it well, warmly and modestly, but he knows it’s there. He wears the confidence better these days than he ever used to.
After a moment, Shawn pushes his chair backward to give himself room to cross his ankle over his knee and fold his arms behind his head. He leans back and looks at Maya.
Maya watches as he relaxes into his chair. She follows suit, crossing her long legs and leaning forward to look up at the stars.
“Can I tell you something? I, uh, I felt weird saying anything before, but I want you to know. I want you to know everything now, so.”
She blinks quickly, a little startled. She wets her lips and glances back at him. “You can tell me anything. Of course.”
She really believes that now.
Shawn bites at his lip, cheek bulging with a slight smile before he continues.
“So, you know that guitar I showed you? The first one I ever made?” His fingers scratch over his thigh, nails picking at his jeans. He takes a breath, wets his lips.
“I named it after you,” he finally says with a soft laugh, shaking his head a little. “Lulu. Guess I was still kinda lovesick.”
Maya was preparing herself for something worse, something harsher. He pleasantly surprises her. A bubble of a giggle rises in her throat. She’s delighted and totally honored. She goes a warm pink color and settles further into her chair, slumping down as she beams at him.
“Really? Wow. I’ll take a guitar named after me over a ship any day of the week.”
She laughs again, blushing furiously, raking a hand through her hair, “Especially if you made it.”
“Could name a whole series after you, sugar,” he murmurs, sitting forward and leaning his forearms on his knees. He tilts his head. “Would you let me do that?”
He’s been thinking about it for a while, now. Starting a proper series with a name, instead of just fucking around with whatever he wants, or only refurbishing. The money’s better with refurb. But that’s why he saves, and that’s why he keeps strong relationships with his elite clients. Elite is classiest way to say famous, he’s pretty sure.
Anyway, he thinks naming a series after Maya would be. Nice. Maybe a little cheesy, and sentimental. But he’s a little cheesy and a little sentimental. He can’t help it, not with her.
Maya is flooded with pride. She aims her gaze down at her feet and takes a deep breath.
“I’d love that. When you decide I’ve earned it.”
She doesn’t want them getting ahead of themselves again. It’s so easy for them to do. But she wants stable, she wants a foundation, not building blocks just tall enough for them to keep climbing with nothing to hold onto.
But someday? Yeah. She’d like that.
She’s right about earning it. Not that he doesn’t think she already deserves it, because she does. He’s the one who needs to earn it. And they need to earn it together, too.
He stands up, tucks the lion under his arm and reaches for Maya’s hand when she stands, too. His thumb brushes her knuckles while he leads her toward the parking lot.
“Do you wanna, I dunno, drive around and talk a little? I don’t think I’m too sick of you yet,” he asks with a wry grin, glancing down at her as he gives her fingers a gentle squeeze.
She’s relieved when he mentions an alternative to taking her straight home. She doesn’t want this night over yet. Because he’s not coming home with her.
“That sounds perfect,” she assures him, walking a tad closer to his side, “We should do Shore Drive and check out all those crazy massive mansions on the north end of the beach.”
Shawn grins. “You love Shore Drive. Why not get a fancy mansion yourself?”
He’s teasing, really. He loves her cottage. It’s comfy and cozy and so perfect for Maya. He knows why she picked it.
Maya grins and shrugs. “I do love Shore Drive but I just like to gawk at it, I wouldn’t actually live there. When I was dreaming of Avila I always pictured myself in one of the old historical cottages in my neighborhood.”
She also pictured herself with him if she’s being honest, but that kind of admission doesn’t go well with the “take it slow” plan they’ve devised.
Shawn leads her to the passenger’s side, opens the door and helps her inside with a gentle smile. She’s got her bare feet kicked up onto the dashboard by the time he’s tucked the lion away and slid into the driver’s seat.
Maya makes herself comfortable in her seat. He looks happy to see her there. She watches him carefully stow the lion in the backseat and start the engine. The radio turns on like it always does in his car to a station playing some mellow John Mayer. She smiles and turns it down just slightly so they can talk over it.
“So I’m taking the long way, right?” he asks, looking at her as he slows to a stop at the red light leading out of the parking lot.
Maya smiles again, softer this time. She burrows down into her seat that smells like him. “Yes please. I like taking the long way with you.”
The fastest way to Shore Drive is to the right, so when the light turns green, Shawn hooks left. He flicks the button above the rear view mirror and the sunroof glides back. He rolls down the windows and hangs an arm outside as they whip down the beachside highway.
Maya purrs with the wind in her hair. Usually she gets sleepy sitting in the car but she’s strangely energized tonight. She watches moonlight bounce off the ocean with a sparkle in her eye. She takes a deep sea-salted breath and releases it slowly through her nose.
“So,” Shawn starts after a moment of driving in silence. “I wanna know. You said— before-- you said I don’t know you anymore. And I want to. So let’s, I dunno, let’s play twenty questions or something.”
He glances over at her, feeling his cheeks twinge. He smiles, then looks back out to the road.
“I mean, if you want.”
Maya nods at his idea, considering. She has so many questions floating around in varying degrees of heaviness, she’s not sure where to go first. She bobs her head back and forth, considering.
“Hmm… ok… how about… other than blow, what are your chosen vices of the last 12 years?”
She says it with a smile so he knows he’s safe with her.
“Oooh,” he purrs, smirking slight as he glances at her. “Only on question one and already getting gritty?”
He chuckles, then sinks his teeth into his lower lip while he thinks. He racks his brain for a good, not-boring answer as he chews at his lip, then soothes it with his tongue.
“Hm,” he murmurs, shrugging a little. “Besides weed and Wednesday night s’mores? I guess those M&M cookies from Panera. Good snack when I’m at the shop late.”
He glances at Maya, corner of his mouth tugged into a frown. “That’s super fucking boring. I’m really boring compared to like, Manhattan people.”
Maya tosses her head back, laughing. “M&M cookies! Those are the best. The chocolate chip ones have nothing on the M&M cookies.”
She wonders if she could pull off baking him a batch herself. Probably not. She might try anyway. He’d probably like that.
“So what about you?”
Maya smiles conspiratorially. “I used to have an online shopping problem. I would order so much stupid shit in the middle of the night. Once I ordered a tangerine orange Kitchenaid mixer.”
Shawn thinks if he were as well off as Maya, he’d have an online shopping problem too. He laughs, shaking his head. Pressing his palm into the steering wheel, he carefully banks the Jeep around a twisting curve in the road.
“Can you even bake? Is that a secret skill you learned?”
Maya exhales so her lips flap comically. She shakes her head and looks down at their twining fingers. She smiles.
“I definitely can’t bake. I can sometimes make chocolate chip cookies without burning them. Like, sometimes.”
She chuckles at herself. She thinks of all the Amazon returns she made in the cold light of day with a blush in her cheeks for even ordering it in the first place.
“Ok. Your turn.” She turns her head to look out at the water.
Shawn switches hands on the wheel so he can reach across the console for her. He glides his palm over the back of her hand, slotting their fingers together so the tips of his brush her wrist.
“Mm. New question for you. What’s your go to comfort movie? You—“ he clears his throat, “You said I don’t know your favorite movies, but I used to. So—“ his lips twitch, “—I wanna know again.”
Maya’s very sure Shawn could still reel off an impressive list of all her favorite movies, even now, even after all this time. She vaguely recalls crying at him the other day about having go-to movies she’d put to calm her down and help her fall asleep when she was in the thick of the stress at work.
“I mean, I still love all the movies I did. I adopted a couple that used to be what I’d put on to fall asleep. They’re weird choices, actually. One was “The Other Woman” with Leslie Mann and Cameron Diaz. I really liked all their outfits and their houses. The other one was Casablanca.”
She tilts her head back at him with a shy smile. Casablanca was her favorite fantasy, apart from the ending.
Of all the gin joints in all the cities in all the world. Shawn said something like that to her recently, before their blow up. She hasn’t forgotten.
Shawn frowns, foot easing off the gas as they pull onto Shore Drive, slowing down a bit so Maya can admire the mansions.
“I have a love-hate relationship with Casablanca. I don’t like a sad ending, I guess.”
Maya nods in understanding. It is a heartbreaking ending. She was usually asleep before it ended, though, mercifully. She thinks she wouldn’t like it as much if she watched the ending regularly. It would hit too close to home.
Maya doesn’t think she’s as interested in the mansions as she expected to be, not with him sitting here, captivating her like he does. She glances over his shoulder at one of her favorite Shore Drive houses and back at him.
The Jeep rolls to a stop when they come to the stop sign at the end of the second block. There’s no one around at the moment, so Shawn looks from the road to Maya, only to find she’s already looking at him. He smiles.
“Tell me a secret,” he says, dragging his calloused thumb across her knuckles, “Something you haven’t told anyone ever. Even if it’s silly or stupid. Or embarrassing.”
He grins, quirking a brow.
Her nose twitches. She strokes her free hand through her hair. What secret could she possibly have to share with him that he doesn’t already know? He used to know everything. What’s left?
Her brows pull together, then apart. She smirks. “This isn’t exactly a secret but I haven’t told anyone I did this, only people in my office know. When I quit my job, I didn’t give notice or anything, I just walked out one day during lunch in my $2000 Gucci suit and took the subway to Central Park. I ate a hot dog. And then I ate another. And then I got a third one and ate it on my way into my boss’s office. I told him I quit, I crumpled up the wax paper and tossed it on his desk. I packed up my office and never went back.”
She smiles warmly. “It’s one of the proudest moments of my life, I think.”
“Holy shit, Lu.”
He says it before he can stop himself, doesn’t mean to sound as bewildered as he does. He’s not so much surprised by the story as he is impressed. Proud. Thankful she stood up for herself when she needed to.
He grins, reaches from the steering wheel to cup his other hand around hers, so he’s got her completely encompassed by his broad palms.
“That’s really fucking awesome. I don’t think I’d have the guts to do that,” he shakes his head, squeezing her hand gently.
Maya preens at his reaction. She lets him take her hand and gush at her a little. Bubbling under his gaze, she reaches up with her free hand and draws a blunted fingernail against his jaw, admiring the perfect line of it. Her fingers twitch in his for her pencils.
“But, ah, I think you’ve always been braver than me,” his smile softens, and he carefully brings her hand to his mouth, his fingers wrapping around her wrist. He presses a soft kiss to her knuckles, thumb pushing into the middle of her palm.
“I don’t think that’s true,” she murmurs.
Shawn was brave even when she wasn’t. He got himself to LA even without her as a parachute. When it didn’t go to his plan, he was brave enough to get himself out and start fresh and new where no one knew him. He’s been brave his whole life -- she feels she’s only been brave in the last few months.
His lips are a compliment all their own. She accepts it with an extra pulse of her heart.
Shawn blushes. The flush starts in the tips of his ears and spreads to his cheeks. No one gets him this bashful anymore. It used to be easy, but the years have hardened him. Now, it’s only Maya.
He pulls a hand from hers and takes the steering wheel. He starts driving again so he doesn’t kiss her. His Jeep is a dangerous place to kiss. They used to fuck all the time in the Jeep he had in college. This newer model has even more room for them to mess around.
He doesn’t need the temptation. Go slow.
Maya inhales as her chest falls back with the gentle lurch of the car. It’s good they’re moving. Moving means not stopping, not crawling into the backseat, not getting carnal at the corner of Shore and Shell. Moving is good.
“If it’s my turn to ask a question again,” she starts, voice soft and quiet over the lapping of the waves on shore, “What’s the last song you wrote?”
Maya’s question almost makes him choke. The only songs he ever writes anymore are about her. The songwriter part of him feels like a remnant from before, from when he was so in love with her he couldn’t contain it to their relationship, so it poured out of him as music and lyrics.
It’s a way to cope now.
“I uh,” he laughs, “I wrote a few stanzas on the harp the other day.”
Safe answer. Neutral.
But then—
“I guess that’s not, like, a real song though. The, ah, the last real song I wrote was a few weeks ago? It just kind of came to me at the piano. The music anyway. I’ve been jotting down lyrics all summer.”
She clears her throat and continues admiring the houses as they pass slowly on the deserted street. She’s glad to hear he’s been writing music even if he gets a little cagey about what kind. She nods like she’s not dying of curiosity.
“Oh, that’s great! What… um, what’s it called?”
A thinly veiled version of “is it about me?” if Maya’s ever heard one.
He doesn’t feel like hiding from her anymore. The parts of himself he shared in the beginning of the summer were the easy ones. The ones she already knew. The songs he used to write about her were simple. Juvenile. Important, but he’s outgrown them.
The ones he writes now cut a little more deeply, in ways he didn’t want her to know about when he was busy acting like they were the same people they’d been in college.
“Oh, eh, I don’t really have a title yet. That’s always the hardest part for me. But I think, well, it’s definitely about us. About you.”
He wants to say if that’s okay, but his adult brain reminds him he doesn’t need her permission to write music about things that are important to him.
Shawn doesn’t hesitate to tell her he’s written about her. She can’t say she’s completely surprised. It’s nice to hear, though. The confirmation from him feels good. He cares enough to write.
Maya nods. She glances past him at an old Victorian that’s stood the test of time. It’s weatherbeaten and stately and it’s not going anywhere.
“I think it’s good for us both,” she assures him, “That we’re both re-exploring what we love to do. That we’re working on ourselves that way. And that we’re honest about it.”
She talks about them like they’re a team. That’s really all he’s ever wanted. His heart flutters in his chest. He thinks it’s good, too.
“It’s not a happy song,” he says, because he can’t stop the honesty now. He wrote it when he still thought she was going back to New York. At the time, he thought it was evidence that he could cope with her leaving.
Now he thinks it works with the new relationship they’re embarking upon. He can fiddle with a couple of the lyrics, anyway.
Maya casts her eyes out at the water. She hums.
“They can’t all be happy songs, I guess.”
She thinks all they can do is hope the rest of their songs will be happy. They deserve that. They both do.
He glances at her as he turns off of Shore, down a small beach road that will spit them back onto Main Street, eventually.
“But I could play it for you sometime. If you want.”
She feels his eyes again. She looks back with a quiet smile. “I’d love to hear it when you’re ready for me.”
Coming back to Main Street means the end of the night. Maya sighs and hopes it doesn’t come off too dramatic. But the truth is, this was a hell of a first date. She feels better with him now than she has all summer. Cards are on the table.
As he pulls into her driveway to drop her off, she grins.
“You still owe me about 16 more questions,” she laughs, “Rain check?”
Shawn feels like he is the embodiment of the sigh she releases. He doesn’t want the night to be over either. He goes as slowly as he can on the way back to her house, squeezing her hand every now and then.
He throws the Jeep in park and lets his head fall back against the seat. He smiles.
“What if you ask me one more while I walk you to your door?”
He lifts his brows, then gets out of the car and jogs to the passenger’s side so he can open the door for Maya.
Maya fights the embarrassed chuckling that threatens when he scampers around the side of the car to help her out. She takes his hand and steps out, her sandals hooked in her fingers. She keeps hold of his hand and walks slowly up the cobblestone path to her front door. She glances over at her porch swing and thinks maybe she’ll come out here after she gets ready for bed with her sketchpad, something to take the edge off before she sleeps.
In the warm lamplight, Shawn glows. She takes his other hand and steps a little closer to him. She swallows any nerves left and fixes her eyes on his.
“Ok, last question. How do you feel about how tonight went?”
Shawn drops one of her hands in favor of cupping her neck, thumb stroking across her jaw. He smiles, hanging his head a bit closer to her.
“I feel like it was the best first date I’ve ever been on.” It sounds like a line, but he says it as earnestly as he can and hopes she’ll know he means it.
His gaze drops to her lips, but only briefly. He looks up, wetting his own lips and pressing them together.
His voice is raspy when next he speaks.
“I also feel like I’d really like to kiss you now,” he clears his throat. Then, gently, “Please.”
Maya’s eyes flutter. His thumb is hot and rough on her skin. When he’s standing this close, she can smell his cologne, shampoo, body wash, him. She fights a pathetic whimper rising in her throat.
It’s just a kiss. It’s just a kiss.
He looks down at her lips and she nearly lunges for him. Apparently it’s a kiss she’s fucking starving for.
She exhales slowly trying not to pant at him.
“Yeah. Yes. Mhmm. Please. Kiss me.”
Kissing Maya is so easy and so hard at the same time. Easy, because they’ve done it so much, hard, because they’ve never done it like this. He’s never had to walk away from her after.
He presses his thumb to the apple of her cheek as he brings his lips to hers, his chest deflating with a soft murmur as he releases a breath he’s been holding all night. He sighs into her mouth, stepping closer to her until their bodies are flush together.
It’s a dangerous game, sipping at her lips and holding her close while not letting it go any further. He’s delicate with her, doesn’t try to coax her mouth open with his tongue, even though the instinct is there, twitching in his fingers.
He resists. It’ll be worth it, in the long run.
The kiss is somewhat chaste but it doesn’t feel unsatisfying, exactly. Just cautious. It’s warm and soft and so tender.
She wants to suck on his lower lip or tangle her fingers in his hair. She wants to let them in so they can stumble up the stairs, shedding clothes as they go. She doesn’t. She just kisses him back, inhaling as he sighs.
They separate gently. She licks her lips, like she just wants to taste him again.
She’s panting, not because the kiss was so hot, but from the strength it takes to control herself.
“So uhm,” she murmurs, “Do you want to… I dunno, hang out again tomorrow?”
Is that too soon? What does taking it slow feel like?
Shawn has to take two full steps away from her to make sure he doesn’t stumble inside after her, like he’s done so many times this summer.
Go slow.
She sounds unsure of her offer, but he wants it. He grins.
“Yes-- Yeah. Yeah, totally. I do want that. I fuckin’--” he laughs, shaking his head and scrubbing a hand through his hair as he looks at his feet, “I miss you already.”
Maya chuckles back and it sounds a little raspy.
“Yeah,” she replies, “I know what you mean.”
She doesn’t know exactly if he’s referring to missing her even though she’s still standing with her hand on the doorknob or missing her because if it were a few weeks ago, he’d probably be inside her at this time of the night.
Either way, she feels it too.
With one last slightly shaky but still hopeful smile, she lets herself inside to dig out a sketchbook.
----------
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Rev Recaps Hard Contact (Chapter 10)
CW: murder, death in combat,slightly graphic descriptions of corpses
TL:DR Recap: Etain and Dar go to one of Jinart’s safehouses and are immediately betrayed, which yet again, kind of justifies Etain’s paranoia. Darman kills a man, which perturbs Etain. Omega steals mining equipment and accidentally captures Guta-Nay. Hokan is pissed that Dar and Etain got away, and reveals that Jinart literally murdered the collaborators and tore them to pieces.
unfortunately, after posting the last recap I saw two Kal mentions in Chapter 9 that I missed, so we’re starting at a Kal count of 18.
Beginning Kal Count: 18 Ending Kal Count: 19
I regret to inform you I missed TWO references from Niner about Kal in chapter 9, so we’re starting at a Kal Count of 18.
I won’t screenshot the opening quote, but it’s basically a notice to the farmers on Qiilura that anyone who has Republic soldiers on their land without knowing will be sold into slavery and anyone helping the Republic on purpose will be shot. It does provide some needed framework for the rest of the chapter. Then we open in Darman’s pov, and IDK, I just kind of like the opening line. He still thinks of Kamino as “home” apparently at this point in time.
Etain is still being kind of unfairly snarky, and Darman’s at a loss what to do about it.
“Darman took is as a sensible observation rather than an insult.” Etain isn’t really being great right now, I recognize that, but I still love that line.
Anyway, they stop at the first safehouse and Etain goes to knock. Darman hates feeling obvious and exposed, and compares his lack of ability to blend in to, you guessed it, Skirata.
Kal Count raised to 19, BUT so far I think that’s the only one in this chapter.
Anyway, the house is empty; the family fled in the middle of a meal. Darman is still overly cautious, and walks Etain through house clearing procedure, even though her Force-sense tells her it’s safe. He points out that she can’t sense a tripwire that would murder them, even though Jedi Danger Sense is an established thing in the EU by this point and-
Sorry.
He also redirects her when she’s peering over his shoulder into the pantry instead of standing guard at the door and watching their gear, although he’s gracious enough to admit it had probably never occurred to her with Jedi senses. While he raids said pantry with the intent to test the food for toxins later, she goes to fill bottles of water from a pump outside, and he asks why she isn’t using a filter. Again, we were just giving Etain shit a few chapters ago for being too paranoid and now she’s asking if he was trained by Nemoidians, but honestly I’m feeling kinder to Dar than Jinart because it really is a culture clash.
Yet again, I wonder how the Kaminoans can afford to kill that many clones out right when each clone is such an investment to rain and train in terms of both input and time.
Darman doesn’t know what to make of a Jedi who isn’t the perfect demigod he was promised, which is affecting his trust levels. And Etain hasn’t been helping a lot with that. But she does notice something is wrong with him; she just doesn’t know him well yet, so she assumes it has something to do with his physical injury.
They eventually make it to another safe house, when they meet a woman “with a face like a gdan”, several children, and a few other adults. Dar is briefly overwhelmed because it’s the first time he’s seen this many humans who aren’t clones. I guess the commandos never saw their Sergeants group up.
Darman places mines all around the entrance to the building before he goes in, which I’m sure would win him no love even if the farmers weren’t already under threat of execution or slavery. The family at the safehouse says very little, outside of one woman who wants to know how the Republic is better than the Nemoidians, but they do attempt to feed Dar and Etain, which I have to say, is generous for the kind of place they’re living in. Or would be, if the family weren’t planning to sell them out & use the food as a distraction.
Dar, honey, she’s going to be able to read you in the Force better than anyone else in the galaxy by the time this is over and you’ll like it, so you might as well just buckle up.
Also, clones are able of discerning thoughts/behavior patterns/moods really easily through minute observation and there’s nothing ruling out Etain doing the same her, but I guess it makes sense he jumps to mind reading the way the Kaminoans built up the Jedi.
Lots of little thoughts here. There’s post to be made based on a conversation I had with rey-skywalkin-away about Etain and food that I’ll save for another day, but for now, let me just say as much as KT tries to present Etain as a picky/snobbish eater, lemme just say that I don’t blame Etain in the least for being suspicious when the last stew Jinart tried to serve her included grains literally picked out of the manure on Etain’s cloak. Also, it’s still kind of sweet that Darman notices she isn’t eating enough and immediately offers her his bread, even though he’s in heaven getting “real” food. It’s generous.
But good things never last, and Etain pretty much immediately is warned by the Force that someone is approaching unexpectedly. Darman flips out and the family immediately flees, which only confirms his suspicion. Dar and Etain brace for combat, while Etain uses Force-sense to pinpoint the incoming enemy forces. It’s actually kind of a great little action scene for the two of them.
“She put her lips so close to his ear he jumped.” Idk, I just giggled at that.
It’s just kind of a great little moment, getting to actually see Etain use her Force skills competently in an action scene. But of course, it immediately devolved. Darman, being raised to be a soldier, kills the one surviving Separatist, who’s injured on the floor. Etain, being raised a Jedi, doesn’t understand. Again, it’s a culture clash, but given the military focus of the books, we know who the narrative thinks is right.
I STILL WANT TO KNOW... who the hell were the clones supposed to be killing on Kamino? I can’t imagine the Kaminoans would let the clones kill even “worthless” Kaminoans, for fear of the armies they were raising getting ideas. I suppose Jango could have snuck back a bounty that was supposed to be dead every now and then, but that wouldn’t be a lot of people for training with 3,000,000 men.
Also, Darman literally had his freak out over killing people on page 56 of this same, book, so it comes off as a tad hypocritical, even though this isn’t the last time he’ll not understand what Etain is upset about wrt killing.
Anyway, Darman is shot in the shoulder, though it’s a minor wound, they’re now on the run with no “safe houses” to hide in, and at the end of this scene, when Darman asks if Etain can sense droids, we find out she can’t when a droid starts shooting at them.
We then skip to Niner and Atin and Fi raiding a quarry for droids/explosives/equipment. I’m not gonna lie, I could care less about the plot of this section. This is my third time reading it and I’m still fuzzy on it. But it has a few fun little moments:
Atin is tricky. Also, I’m pretty sure that if this wasn’t a Star Wars book,that line would say “pants-shittingly nervous” rather than “drink-spilling”. With the facility seemingly cleared out, Niner and Atin go in to loot it, and we build some more on the “Atin is the tech guy” thing.
Except the guard shack isn’t empty. Guta-Nay (again, the would be rapist) has been hiding there, since Hokan wants him dead. Guta-Nay tries offering various bits of information if Niner will keep him alive, and KT really, really leans in to the whole “to stupid to function” thing, which is still making me uncomfortable, but comes to a head a few chapters from now. Eventually, Niner concedes that they’ll take Guta-Nay prisoner rather than kill him. Atin is displeased, but starts leveraging it to try and find a technical solution to one of their other problems.
Niner, you should absolutely keep thinking mean thoughts about Vau.
Atin hacks some droids, and they’re going to use them to move the mining charges and smuggle them into the places that need to be blown up, including the Nemodian comm relay in Tekklet. Atin still does not like Guta-Nay.
And then one bit that really makes this scene:
Tiny bit of foreshadowing for Triple Zero and True Colors. GREAT moment of Fi’s typical sass. “Don’t stand there being so ugly, man. You’re scaring him.”
We then close the chapter with Hokan being pissed that Darman and Etain escaped. I’m not going to spend too much time on it, because it’s mostly Hokan yelling at his subordinates.
Things that are of note, with a CW for a graphic description of mutilation of corpses: this is what Jinart went and did to the collaborators.
As negatively as Traviss paints them, I actually feel really bad for the farmers in this book. She’s not much sympathetic to them, and she explicitly goes out of her way to show why you’d be stupid to sympathize with them, but on the one hand you have the Separatists and Hokan torching these people’s land, selling them into slavery, and executing them. On the other... you have Jinart.
On top of which, they’re literally starving because of the Nemodian’s financial control of their lives. They don’t even have 21st century plumbing, in Star Wars. Whatever point Traviss thinks she’s making about unworthy civilian/local populations, it rings kind of hollow in the face of that information, because I can understand exactly why the NPCs act the way they do, even if they’re technically in opposition to our protagonists.
Anyway, Hokan pulls all droids out of Tekklet, where the comm is, to guard Uthan’s facility. He tells his men he wants either Darman or Etain alive, especially if Etain is a Jedi. Preferably both of them. Again, remember, he tortured Kast Fulier to death with Fulier’s own lightsaber, so remember what we’re working with here.
And that’s where the scene ends.
#Republic Commando#Rev Recaps RepComm#Etain Tur-Mukan#Darman Skirata#Ghez Hokan#Niner Skirata#Atin Skirata
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10 Tips for Surviving an Outrage-Fueled Internet as a Highly Sensitive Person
Like it or not, we’re all in a long-term relationship with the internet. Here’s how to make it a peaceful one.
While the internet can seem like a dream come true, it’s also a big, scary digital world, and most of us can’t afford to go completely off-the-grid to avoid it. On the one hand, I personally love doing research and exploring new ideas — and the internet is like an endless buffet for doing exactly that. It feeds my mind, and since I’m a journalist, I use it often when I’m hunting for new sources or digging up truths.
But as a highly sensitive person, the internet can also be… overwhelming. Exhausting, even. Highly sensitive people (HSPs) are the twenty percent of the population who process information very deeply — which makes us both insightful and empathetic, but also easily overstimulated. As an HSP myself, there are days when I want nothing more than to chuck my phone and computer into a river and run away to a cabin in the woods, where the WiFi signal won’t be strong enough to load Wikipedia or Gmail even if I hadn’t gotten rid of all my devices.
Escaping the hustle and bustle of modernity might be a common daydream for HSPs, but it’s not a practical one. Most of us need to go online for work, to stay connected with loved ones, and do basic things like banking and grocery shopping.
10 Ways I Survive the Internet as an HSP
1. Know where to find “feed-your-soul” content — and go to it regularly.
Sometimes, even with the best intentions, you can wind up feeling completely burnt out just by spending a few hours online. When that happens, I like to turn to my collection of pick-me-ups. Sometimes, that’s visiting YouTube for inspirational videos, like the pep talk from Kid President (an oldie but goodie). Other times, I might look at the work of some of my favorite cartoonists, like Sarah Scribbles or XKCD. Similarly, everyone has different taste in art, so take some time to find work that feels like a warm blanket. Have this “comfort food” bookmarked or saved somewhere, whether on a playlist or in a folder, so you can quickly turn to it when the internet — especially news — is just too much to handle.
2. Make sure your music is working for you, too.
I love listening to music while I work, but sometimes even my favorite albums can feel overwhelming when combined with everything else that’s happening on my screen. When I need a little more mental space to process whatever I’m reading, I turn to nature sounds or white noise tracks. My favorite is the Spotify playlist “Birds in the Forest.” It’s incredibly soothing and helps me concentrate when my attention feels scattered. (You can also try this HSP playlist curated by a fellow highly sensitive person!)
3. Turn down the lights — or your screen’s brightness.
Since we HSPs are sensitive to any stimuli, that includes the level of light our eyes are taking in. Computer and phone screens are perpetually glowing beacons, and plenty of people have written about how that blue light can throw off our circadian rhythm before bed. But it can also be hard on your eyes to look at a bright screen with small font all day.
If you need the internet for work, try using apps like QuickShade to further refine the brightness of your computer screen. And if at all possible, stop looking at screens at least half an hour before bedtime! But if you must, make sure your screens are in night mode. These days, a lot of devices have dark mode capabilities and it’ll take you just a few minutes to adjust them. If you’re an Android person, you can also download an app like Dark Mode, and if you’re more an Apple person, you can try an app like NeuralCam NightMode.
4. Limit time on social media (and avoid doom-scrolling)…
We’ve all been there: one minute you’re checking Twitter for the latest news updates or to find something interesting to read, and the next thing you know, it’s been half an hour and you’re feeling shaky with the deluge of information. And it’s not just Twitter that pulls us into this endless vortex: it can happen on other social media platforms, on Reddit, and even on news websites. Yes, you’ve been trapped into doom-scrolling.
The internet — and especially social media — is designed to suck you in. Once you know that, you can plan strategies for protecting your time and energy. Set a timer whenever you go on social media and don’t let yourself stay there for longer than that time. Or, if your willpower isn’t strong enough, you can install browser extensions that block certain websites after you’ve been on them for too long — check out Limit for Google Chrome and FocusMe for an app that works across browsers and devices.
5. …But when you do go social media, make it meaningful.
Of course, social media isn’t inherently a bad thing: It can be a great way to stay in touch with friends, learn about new job opportunities, or simply socialize when you aren’t leaving the house. To get the most out of social media, invest in real relationships — use WhatsApp or Facebook Messenger to ask friends about their day or share memes or GIFs. Or, curate your Twitter account so that it shows a variety of perspectives and voices that you’re interested in hearing. For myself, I look for specific hashtags so that I can easily follow scientists, writers, and people in the chronically ill community. It has made my Twitter scrolling a lot less unpleasant.
6. Be intentional with how much you share.
We’ve all heard it before, but it is largely true: The internet is forever. And as much as we may want to assume people are acting with the best intentions, that’s just not true of everyone. “Mobs” form quickly, and just about anyone can end up being doxed or harassed. So be mindful of what you’re putting online. Share only as much of yourself as you are comfortable with strangers knowing. It can be a wonderful experience to have an intimate connection with someone you’ve never met in person, but make sure those conversations happen privately.
Like what you’re reading? Get our newsletter just for HSPs. One email, every Friday. Subscribe here.
7. Understand your capacity for news media and set boundaries.
Similarly to setting boundaries in how much you reveal about your personal life, you also need to understand your mental and emotional capacity for news, be it sad, dark, or uplifting. Because HSPs feel everything so deeply, even an innocuous story about the things scientists still don’t understand about pregnancy can lead to overstimulation (yes, this has happened to me). Once our brains get revved up, it can be very hard to calm them down.
To protect myself from being emotionally overwhelmed by bad news or overstimulated by some exciting bit of research, I try not to read any news after 5 p.m. I also limit how much I read about particularly dark subjects, the coronavirus pandemic being one prime example. I do want to be informed, but I stick to things like daily newsletters rather than reading every single piece of news I come across.
8. Take breaks.
This sounds obvious, though it can be hard to put into practice. But no matter what you’re doing online, whether it’s for work or for fun, be sure to spend some time away from your screen: go on a walk, play with your pet, play a board game, simply sit and stretch — the options are endless. You just need to be sure that you have those options in place so you don’t end up spending hours mindlessly going from one tab to the next online.
Need an extra-restorative break? Try a little time forest bathing.
9. Build “phone-free zones” in your life.
Smartphones are great in many ways, but they also mean you’re carrying a little computer with you wherever you go, which makes the temptation to hop online almost impossible to resist. At the park and see a cute dog? Post a picture to Instagram! Spending time with friends and you can’t remember the last movie some celebrity was in? Hop on Google!
We’ve all done it, but that doesn’t mean we can’t break that permanent connection we seem to have with our phones. Create phone-free zones in your home and life. Maybe it’s a no-phones-in-the-bedroom rule, or no-phones-after-a-certain-time-of-night. Since the internet is built to make us reliant on it, we are the ones who have to set rules and boundaries for when it is allowed to engage us.
10. Acknowledge and embrace the internet’s limitations.
In a lot of ways, the internet can be a sanctuary for HSPs: We are in control of the sites we visit, the time we spend on them, and the amount of information we absorb. It’s easy to think that if we curate our online experience perfectly, we’ll be in a safe bubble where we don’t have to deal with other people’s emotions. However…
That doesn’t mean being online is a substitute for life offline — we still need in-person experiences, whether it’s walking through a forest or having (socially distanced) dinner with friends. That’s just part of human psychology.
So it’s important to understand what the internet gives you, and what it doesn’t, as well as to understand how it can both help and harm you. The more you know about your relationship with the internet, the better you’ll be able to navigate it.
You Might Like:
News Overload Is Real. Here’s How It Affects Highly Sensitive People.
This Is What Overstimulation Feels Like for HSPs
7 ‘Rules’ for Highly Sensitive People to Protect Their Energy
The post 10 Tips for Surviving an Outrage-Fueled Internet as a Highly Sensitive Person appeared first on Highly Sensitive Refuge.
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Miles Jupp is telling a story so awkward, it could have come straight from the book of Very British Problems.
“I went to a restaurant last night, and the man was talking about people who’d been in and he said: ‘You’re an actor, aren’t you? What’s your name?’ But my natural voice is basically a mumble and I am incapable of saying ‘Miles’. I have to say: ‘Erm, Miles.’ He said, ‘Sorry, what is it?’ I said again: ‘Erm, Miles.’ He said: ‘Emmaus?’ And so I said yes.
“When I left, he said: ‘Nice to meet you, Emmaus.’” Jupp looks stricken. “Why would you want to say your own name quite loudly in a restaurant?”
It’s not difficult to see why Jupp is about to star in the West End as David Tomlinson, the man beloved by generations as George Banks in Mary Poppins. The play, The Life I Lead, is written by James Kettle, who has described Tomlinson as representing “a certain kind of vanished Englishness”. Jupp is perfect casting.
He is familiar to Radio 4 listeners as chair of The News Quiz, a job he made the surprise decision to leave this year, and to stand-up audiences after two decades on the circuit. Television viewers may know him as Cousin Basil in The Durrells, Nigel the lay reader in Rev, and press officer John Duggan in The Thick Of It, performances which saw him running the ‘Englishman’ gamut from cheerily bumbling to uptight to utterly confident in one’s own abilities despite not possessing any.
The Life I Lead is a one-man play which explores Tomlinson’s personal life. The actor endured the tragedy of his first wife’s suicide, the trauma of finding out that his father had for years maintained a secret second family – a discovery made by chance one day when Tomlinson’s brother looked out of a bus window to see his father sitting in another house – and the challenge of raising a son with autism at a time when the condition was little understood.
This is not, though, one of those plays about the tortured genius behind the laughter. “No, and actually I think he was sort of untortured, although he experienced great sadness,” Jupp says. “You might associate people of that generation with the stiff-upper-lip thing, but he faced his difficulties head-on. I think he made an effort to be jolly, but not in a denial way – just that you can be jolly if you choose to be.”
Tomlinson, who died in 2000, belongs to another era: “There’s a certain sort of old-fashionedness about him.” Some interviewers have attributed a fogeyish bent to Jupp, who turned 40 this month, but actually he is not like that at all. He chats animatedly about Britpop and the time he went to the Smash Hits Poll Winners’ Party.
Perhaps it’s the voice. Jupp is not screamingly posh, but he is well-spoken. “I suppose if you asked people who weren’t British, ‘What are British people like?’, they might describe someone who was a bit like me. I know I seem posh. And I sort of don’t mind that, really. Because none of that’s up to you anyway, it’s just a thing you’re given, and pretending you’re not like you are seems to be slightly odd behaviour.”
He found a berth on that most middle-class of stations, BBC Radio 4, succeeding Sandi Toksvig as host of The News Quiz in 2015. It was “a great job”, he says.
So why quit? It turns out there were several reasons. “If you’re in charge of something, it’s not as fun as being on it,” he admits. “There’s a certain amount of information you have to get across. You have to pretend to have opinions about things that you have no opinions on whatsoever, and you have to pretend not to have opinions about things that you do have opinions on. So you end up in a slight kind of flux.”
He worried that chairing duties meant he was “not being terrible creative. If you watch someone like Nish [Kumar] on The Mash Report or John Oliver, sitting behind a desk talking about the news and making jokes, you think: ‘That is what they really want to be doing.’ And if I’d hear myself, I’d think: ‘Well, I sound like someone who happens to be hosting the The News Quiz…’ So from about three years, I thought I’ll probably stop.”
The news cycle got pretty wearing: “The same topics came up rather often, and I’d think: ‘Am I saying the same words in a different order?’”
The death of longtime regular Jeremy Hardy was another factor. “Once I knew Jeremy was so unwell, I didn’t really like the idea of doing the show as he wouldn’t be in it any more. Every now and then, a recording would find itself going down this cul-de-sac, and you’d think ‘I know what this evening needs…’, and there’s no way it can happen.”
As for criticism that The News Quiz was too Left-wing, Jupp brushes it off: “Who is sitting at home thinking, right, I’m about to be told facts for 30 minutes solid? To worry about [bias] means to not credit the audience and listenership with a great deal of intelligence.”
He shrugs: “In terms of political balance, I was never really bothered about it because that’s not the job of that programme. It’s just jokes.”
Now he is off the show and free to talk about his own politics. So, is he a Tory? “No, I am absolutely not a Tory. I’ve never, ever put a cross in that box.” That’s not to say he’s a Jeremy Corbyn fan, either. He imagines their conversation: “I’m happy to vote for you, but can you just tell me – it doesn’t have to be an essay – what it is that I’m voting for? Can you just say vaguely what it is you actually think?”
Jupp also says he left The News Quiz because he wanted to spend time with his family, which from a politician would sound like a lie but from a man with five children sounds eminently reasonable.
He lives in Monmouth with his wife, Rachel, whom he met at university in Edinburgh (a period when he also found fame as Archie in the BBC children’s show Balamory). Their eldest is now 10, the youngest four, with an eight-year-old and seven-year-old twins in between. I imagine the logistics are quite something.
“The rules of my local leisure centre make it possible for me to take four children swimming at a time, and we do that without much difficulty. It’s as difficult sometimes as people imagine, and as fun sometimes as people imagine. But you do have to have a f------ big car.”
What of the Duke of Sussex’s recent pronouncement about having only two children to save the planet? “Is that what he thinks? Um, well, it’s a bit late really… we’ll try and offset it somehow. I’ll get them to wear solar backpacks.”
Jupp has heard the environmental argument many times. “If I had a herd of cows, would you be saying to me: ‘Hmm, now, you must have heard that cows are quite bad for the environment.’” He’s giggling now. “If you interviewed a Formula One driver, would you say, ‘You know, it’s actually better to drive a little bit slower just in terms of fuel efficiency…’?’
Rather than the weekly travel that The News Quiz entailed, he now plans to spend longer stretches at home. And to concentrate on acting and writing. He is working on a novel about a man in his 30s who is disillusioned with his job – no, not presenting The News Quiz, but teaching. And he would love to take The Life I Lead to the US.
“You could do it in America, on the East Coast or the West Coast. Or Des Moines.” Then he checks himself. “I mean, I’m totally flying kites here. The producer may well be reading this and thinking: ‘Um, no. This is definitely the last time he’s doing it.’”
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Cuffs
- 1 - "Ugh, I hate working with him!!" Bano said to the mirror while the makeup artist tried to smudge her eyeliner. "Does he have to be so annoying" She grimaced. _And handso- no_ Bano stopped herself from finishing that thought. That insufferable human being cannot be attractive. Not at all.
"Ma'am they are requesting your presence" came the voice of a boy who was assigned to her and Jungkook both.
It wasn't a glamorous enough production house to have a lot of production and support crew, but it wasn't small enough to not warrant any attention.
Bano sighed and stepped outside her trailer that she shared with another junior star and saw Jungkook steeping out of his trailer. _I hope he falls_ Bano though as Jungkook's effortless walk was interrupted by him tripping over seemingly nothing. He looked up to see Bano laughing loudly and scowled at her.
"Sherbano good to see you in such a humorous mood. But then I guess since you're working with me that's to be expected". Bano's expression immediately soured and she turned away without responding.
They both walked up to the set as the director started chatting with them. Thankfully both of them had memorized their scripts well. Though running lines with each other was not preferable but sometimes they both had to do unappealing stuff for their jobs. They were stars, but not big enough to be able to influence the selection of their co-stars.
"Okay so you, Junho come in with your hand behind your back, and grab her hand ..." the director continued to explain the scene while both the costars listened attentively. Despite their unfriendly feelings towards each other, they were both good at what they did and that meant listening and understanding the scenes without letting personal feelings get in the way. "Positions!" the director yelled and immediately everyone began to clear the set and the actors took their places, Jungkook with a handcuff on his right wrist. "And action!" the director yelled.
"Please give me another chance" Jungkook said with as much emotion as he could bring in his voice and on his face. "I can't Junho, I'm sorry" Bano said sadly and turned away. "Stop, Yejee" Jungkook grabs her hang and swiftly handcuffs her left wrist. "Now you'll have to listen to me. I won't let you get away" Jungkook looked at Bano. The scene ended at Bano's horrified look. "Excellent!" the director yelled. "Good job you two".
"Thank you" Bano and Jungkook bowed to the staff and the production crew around them thanking them for their hard work. Suddenly there was a commotion near them.
"I was carrying it but it slipped from my hand and fell in the gutter. What do I do!" they both heard the staff member say. With sudden horror Bano realized what this could be about. She rushed forward ignoring Jungkook's yells of slow down and used her free hand to grab the staff's shoulder. "What do you mean it fell! You're talking about the key to these" Bano lifted her handcuffed hands infront of her, and now even Jungkook looked horrified.
- 2 -
"I'm so sorry!!" the staff member, her tag read Soha, said. "There's an extra but its with assistant director Yoon - these are her handcuffs, I mean her personal ones if you know what I mean - and she left to visit her grandparents in Jeju and won't be back by tomorrow at the latest" Soha was almost frantic, thinking she might lose her job over this.
"It's ok" Jungkook tried to calm her down. "We'll manage, and don't worry you won't be punished. It was an accident" He - or they - went and explained the situation to the director and requested the day off.
"What are we going to do" Bano almost yelled next to him. "I can't be trapped with you".
"Oh and I want to be trapped with you, you insufferable little ... thing!"
"Watch your mouth or i'll punch your teeth in"
"Will you be able to reach my mouth shorty?"
"YOU-" she fell silent fuming with anger.
After five minutes of both trying to calm themselves down, Jungkook reluctantly broke the silence. "What now? I mean where do we go?"
"We can't go to my place, I have a roommate and she's not gonna welcome a buy one get one free offer, especially if its of the opposite gender"
"Well, since we can't spend the whole day out, we have to rest. I'm pretty tired, how about my place? My roommate is out of town so it won't be awkward"
Bano hesitated for a moment, knowing that she would be going to his place - alone. But what other choice did they have? "Sure let me grab my bag". She moved, and unwillingly dragged Jungkook beside her to the female trailer and knocked on the door.
"Uh...there's a slight...situation here so is it ok if uh...Jungkook enters with me?" "Sure come on. Inha already changed and left" the makeup artist said as she opened the door and looked at their cuffed hands, and burst out laughing right in their faces.
"Thanks for asking how I'm dealing with this" Bano darkly muttered as she stepped inside. She accidentally knocked her bag and her stuff spilled out.
"Great, just great" as she started gathering the items, Jungkook also bent down to help. 'Umm...uh...here. Sorry" Bano couldn't believe her eyes. Jungkook was blushing! and then she noticed what was in his hand and she started blushing along with him. "Umm thanks" she quickly stuffed the blue packet in the inner pocket of her bag.
They both left the trailer. Jungkook went to grab his stuff and then they both walked towards the parking lot.
- 3 -
"Oh no. NO WAY!" Bano had almost forgotten that Jungkook rode a bike. A black, sleek and sexy bike that made him look 10 times sexier.
"Look while I've always wanted to sit on a bike with the boy of my dreams, you're not that boy. Obviously. So let's catch a taxi and head to your place ok" Bano said trying to reason with him while her heart was yelling a lot of swear words with his name thrown in between.
"Come on I'm every girl's dream boy. Besides you expect me to leave my bike here? No way!" he said approaching it. Bano stopped and dug her heels in, ready to take a stand. Jungkook glared at her and nudged her and for a few minutes they both had a tug of war match. Of course Jungkook won. His muscles weren't for show after all.
He opened the seat and grabbed a helmet for Bano. "Here. Now I know it's gonna ruin your hair and all but for safety reasons you have to wear it". Bano glared at him and grabbed the helmet, putting it on her head, struggling with the clasp. "Uff looks like I have to do everything for you" Jungkook mocked as he grabbed the clip and clicked it in place.
"Oh please! it's because of the cuffs. Not because I can't do it by myself".
"Sure sure whatever". He grabbed his helmet and put it on effortlessly. "Come on" he said as he swung his leg over the bike, connecting with something hard. He glanced back to see Bano rubbing her jaw.
"YOU-" if only looks could kill, Bano's would have incinerated him in 2 seconds.
"You shouldn't have stood close to me. Not my fault Sherbano" Jungkook shrugged.
"I think standing far would be DIFFICULT since we are HANDCUFFED together for the day Jungkook", Bano said trying to control her anger.
"... JK"
"What?"
"My name. It's JK. Fells like my mom when you call me by my full name. Only mom and grandma call me Jungkook"
"Whatever" Bano huffed as she swung her leg and sat behind Jungkook.
"You'll have to grab my waist. To not fall off you know? because falling off is not good" Jungkook said in a patronizing tone.
Bano replied by grabbing his waist, making sure her watch bumped him hard.
"Wait. We can't go! you can't drive with one hand. Let's grab a taxi" Bano was about to jump out when Jungkook tugged her hand. "I'm capable of driving with one hand. Besides, I can move the cuff till the middle of my forearm. You'll have to grab my arm and we'll have to sit more snugly. I'll be able to reach the handles".
Bano was in no mood to argue anymore so she just sighed and grabbed his arm, digging her fingernails into his skin.
"Gently" Jungkook muttered. "I'm driving".
He revved the engine and smoothly pulled out of the parking lot. Once on the main road, the bike gained speed and Bano found herself grabbing his waist tighter. He's so warm - What no! Bano!! he's as cold as his dark heart. Her inner monologue continued all the way to his apartment.
- 4 -
"Uhh you can let go of me. Though if you don't want to ... ouch" Jungkook jumped as Bano got off the bike and kicked his leg.
"Chill. I'm kidding. Let's go" He took off his helmet and Bano's and put them both in his seat compartment.
They both go up in the elevator, both for once quiet and trying to ignore the awkwardness hanging in the air. They reached his floor and Jungkook opened his door. "Welcome aboard!" he said to Bano.
Bano was expecting the typical bachelor pad, and that is what she saw. Apart from the huge leather couch and black table in the tiny living room, PS4, Wii and a large TV took up space on one wall. There was an open kitchenette and two doors leading to the bedrooms, his and his roommate's. Jungkook opened one door and gestured "My bedroom" as if a salesman trying to sell an apartment.
The bedroom was messy, with one wall covered with producing equipment - even though Bano had no clue what producing equipment looked like, she could guess from the Mic - and the other covered with a daybed. A built-in closet and an attached bathroom completed his room.
"So I'm pretty tired. I'm gonna take a nap" Jungkook said as he moved towards the bed. He pulled out a built-in drawer and unfolded the mattress and suddenly the bed became a double bed. "You can lie down if you want" he offered.
"You can't be serious!" Bano looked incredulously at him. "I can't sleep in the same bed with you"
"Your choice" Jungkook moved forward and dived on the bed, pulling Bano along with him. She fell with an umph on top of Jungkook. For a few seconds both of them lied still, until Bano shot up and punched his chest. "What the hell are you trying to do".
"Hey sorry forgot about the cuffs for a minute. Relax. I'm not gonna have my way with you I have plenty of willing girls for that" Jungkook smirked at Bano. He lied down and pulled the covers over him while Bano sat at the furthest corner of the bed, their hands stretched between them. Jungkook's breath evened out and he fell asleep.
For a while Bano stared at the room, bare walls and plain curtains. She looked around trying to find anything interesting to keep her attention, staring at the production equipment. But she couldn't fight her exhaustion and heavy lids. Just for five minutes, I'll lie down and relax. she though as she lied down at the edge of the bed, closing her eyes.
- 5 -
Somewhere in the living room, Bano could hear her ringtone. But she was so cozy, her back was warm and her pillow was soft. She didn't want to get up and get her phone. She turned around and snuggled in her comforter, feeling relaxed and warm. Her consciousness was returning to her in bits and pieces; her wonderful performances, Jungkook's arrogant ass, the cuffs and bike ride, and then his - shit, Bano realized that she wasn't snuggling with her comforter, she was snuggling with her enemy! His hand was around her waist, his breath ruffling her hair, a slight smile on his face. Bano realized she was staring at him and suddenly got up, pushing his arm. It banged into the wall and woke up Jungkook.
"Wha- huh?" he looked around confused for a moment. "Oh you" he looked at Bano and turned around.
"Get up! Don't you have anything else to do beside laze around" Bano retorted, trying to hide her blushing cheeks. Half-asleep Jungkook looked even better than fully-awake Jungkook, Bano realized.
"Sure. Just five more minutes" Jungkook groaned.
"No. Get up!" Bano kept nudging her arm until Jungkook got annoyed.
"Ok. Ok stop" he got up with a groan. His face became alert as a sudden realization crossed his mind. "Umm...how do we go to the bathroom?"
"Shit" Bano glared at him. "If you think -"
"What ? You think I want you to stand beside me while I pee? No thank you" Jungkook glared back.
"Oh alright then don't go to the bathroom till tomorrow genius"
Bano couldn't believe this was happening to them.
They both sat down at the edge of the bed. "Well... the loo is right beside the door. So like one of us can stand outside while the other does .. uh business" Jungkook rubbed a hand against his neck, a nervous habit he couldn't seem to let go of.
"Ok...that sounds...ok I guess. And we could play loud music so that ...uh ...we don't have to hear anything we shouldn't"
"Right that sounds...right ok"
They both got off the bed, Jungkook grabbing his phone as he stood up. He played a heavy metal song with lots of screaming and raised the volume to max.
"You go first" Bano said as she stood outside the door, closing it until it rested against their hands.
Five minutes later they were both back to their usual bickering. "I'm not going to a mall so you can hang out with a bunch of your friends who would be as obnoxious as you I'm sure"
"Why are we even discussing this. I haven't seen them in months, I need to go" Bano said.
"Well I won't go. You can go alone"
"Well sure. I'll just cut off your wrist. I'm sure you won't need your hand" Bano replied sweetly.
Ten minutes later Jungkook finally gave up. "Oh god my head is going to blow up because of your non-stop whining"
"Then let's go".
- 6 -
An hour later they were walking hand in hand in the mall.
"Is it really necessary for you to hold my hand?" Bano whispered while smiling at the passing people.
"I'm sure if we don't people will notice our cuffs. And they won't be thinking nice thoughts about it either" Jungkook said.
Bano just sighed in response. It was getting tiring being stuck with Jungkook. And it wasn't even lunch time yet.
They hurried to the café where she was supposed to meet her friends. She stopped for a moment to study her friends, already chatting happily with each other. L_ was as usual wearing her cool shades. H_ was laughing loudly. T_ was attacking the complimentary piece of bread. M_ was hitting W_ - probably because she made an inappropriate joke. She smiled looking at her friends. Finally she was gonna meet them after so long!
"These are your...friends?" Jungkook asked incredulously.
"Friendship has no age limit" Bano said. She dragged him to their table.
"There's our maknae", M_ said as she got up to hug her.
"And an extra", T_ said as she smirked at Jungkook and their hands.
"Unnie! Its not what it looks like" Bano showed her cuffed hands to the girls.
"Oooo ... k-" Bano didn't catch what else T_ said but M_ started hitting her and W_ almost fell laughing.
I shouldn't ask, I shouldn't ask in front of Jungkook, Bano muttered to herself. But she did anyway.
"Since when are you into...that kinda stuff" T_ said. The whole table erupted into laughter, Jungkook included. Bano blushed furiously.
"Bano you little devil" L_ winked. "I like your friends" Jungkook whispered to her, while to the other he extended his hand.
"I'm Jungkook. Sherbano's coworker. We had an act and the staff lost the key. The extra will take a day so for now we are stuck together"
"Ooooo see its innocent" M_ glared at T_. "Yeah and disappointing too. Let's sit"
- 7 - They all sat down. The conversation flowed easily as it always did in their chats. H_ and L_ made everyone laugh with their awesome sense of humor, W_ and T_ kept making dirty jokes in between, M_ kept hitting them with shouts of "Ya!" and doing aegyo and Jungkook surprisingly kept the conversation going. Bano hadn't felt as comfortable with Jungkook as she did here, sitting among her friends. She could almost believe that he was her friend too. Almost.
"So Bano" W_ started. Bano immediately got suspicious looking at W_ trying not to smile. "Is this the same guy you kept talking about?"
"When did I ever talk about him" Bano feigned confusion.
"You know when you called him a bast-- " T_'s sentence was interrupted by Jungkook's muffled ouch. Bano accidentally kicked Jungkook instead of T_.
"Are you sure this cuff thing was an accident? because the way you're playing footsie with him right now..." W_ trailed off.
"Are you sure nothing's going on" M_ joined in. Even H_ and L_ chimed in with ooos and ahhhs trying to tease the two.
"Yes I'm sure" Bano huffed. "Lets walk around. I wanna buy some stuff". They left the restaurant and started towards the shops.
"So Jungkook. Tell us about yourself" H_ said.
"Umm nothing to know much. I wanted to be a singer so I came to Seoul for auditions. I lived in Busan originally. But I got scouted for acting instead. I get second leads mostly, but its good work. I do cover songs in my free time. Hopefully one day I'll be a lead character and maybe a singer too" Jungkook said.
"Oooh so what are you currently working on with our maknae", L_ asked.
"Well it's kind of a drama/romance genre. Me and Sherbano are secondary characters, but we have our own arc. I'm a struggling musician who's supposed to be in love with this girl Yejee who's the creative art type. But as soon as we start to date more, double dating mostly with the main leads, Yejee starts to realize that I'm more in love with the idea of her that I made in my mind than herself. It's weird because Yejee is not the person I think she is, but I'm constantly trying to make her seem that way, misinterpreting her motives deliberately. She starts to realize this and leaves me but I'm not mentally sane. I'm struggling with my music and the idea of her is my muse, so I use her to make music that ultimately starts selling. When she tells me she's leaving I panic. I think I love her, but I also love my music. So the day she is supposed to move out of our apartment I come in with the handcuffs and trap her with me and lose the key. I can't let her go as that perfect person I have in my head, but at the same time I also can't let my muse get away. It's a kind of selfish love you know, almost to the point of an obsession" Jungkook suddenly stops. "Sorry I got carried away" he says sheepishly.
"No its interesting. Go on" M_ says.
While Jungkook is talking Bano is captured by how passionate he sounds about his character, how deeply he understands him. Maybe that's why acting comes naturally to him; he understands his character so well that he becomes that person. Maybe he's not so bad after all, Bano thinks as she watched him talk so enthusiastically. Maybe the air of confidence and arrogance he gave off was because he was that good.
- 8 -
After long hours of chatting, T_making a joke about Bano needing to go to Victoria's Secret and Bano glaring at her, W_ nudging Bano so she kept bumping into Jungkook, M_ trying to make both of them talk to each other, L_ and H_ joking around, they finally end their time together.
"Bye" Everyone's hugging everyone and its chaos.
"Bring him around next time too. Preferably as your boyfriend" L_ told Bano.
"Unnie!!" Bano whined while they both walked away.
"So they seemed nice enough. How did you meet them? They don't even work in the same industry" Jungkook asked.
"Well. Umm we met at this fan event at the beginning of the year. It was awesome. We talked so much and enjoyed ourselves. We became fast friends. I know its only been months, and we all are at different ages and I know you're gonna say that it won't last ...but it will. Because its us" Bano looked at Jungkook, who had a strange expression on his face.
"So...you were nerdy enough to attend a fan event?" Jungkook laughed loudly.
"Ya! there's more to me than meets the eye" Bano.
"So it seems" Jungkook said softly.
"This is not the apartment" Bano said an hour later. They were standing in front of a run down building's back door.
"How observant of you" Jungkook muttered as he moved towards the door. He knocked twice and a guard opened the door. "Hey", Jungkook greeted the guard. They bumped fists and chatted for a while and then he lead them in, looking curiously at Bano.
From inside came loud chatter of voices and music, flashing lights and sensory depravation. Or that's how it seemed to Bano who had never come to a place like this.
"Where are we" She shouted over the loud music.
"What do you mean? You've never been here? It's a bar"
"A what?"
"A BAR"
"WHAT? You brought me to a BAR!!!"
"Yeah well you met your friends. I have to meet mine"
- 9 -
"Let's dance"
"No"
"Don't be a loser. We're here to have fun"
"YOU are. I'm not"
"Well I can't very well dance alone because WE ARE STUCK TOGETHER" Jungkook said in exasperation. "Look I know you're mad that I introduced you to Jimin and Taehyung as my girlfriend but what else was I supposed to say? With your hand in mine? I couldn't tell them about the cuffs they wouldn't let me live that down. Come on please?"
It was the please that did it. Jungkook had never said please to her before. Maybe she shouldn't be angry, but when he introduced her as his girlfriend, her heart skipped a beat. She was more angry at that than anything else. How she went from bashing his head in to somewhat finding his company tolerable, even likeable, she didn't know. Maybe it was the fact that he hadn't judged her for her friends, all older than her. Or the fact that he didn't find it weird that they sort of met randomly through a fan event and mostly communicated through Whatsapp. Or maybe it was how he got along so well with them, and how they liked him so much. She knew they liked him because as much as her unnies were shameless in their chat, they were shy in real life especially in front of boys. And yet they talked so freely with him as if he was one of their own.
At this rate, her head was gonna explode.
They both got up from their bar stools and ended up on the dance floor. It was actually fun dancing in this crowd of people, where people couldn't see clearly and judge others. They both danced together for a while until Bano told Jungkook she had to sit down.
"I'm exhausted" Bano said sitting heavily.
"Yeah me too" Jungkook said breathing hard.
They sat down, each facing the opposite direction because it was just too awkward. The way they danced on the dance floor - carried by the frenzied atmosphere - as if they actually were a couple. Bano found it hard to look into Jungkook's eyes. They tried to lean away as far from each other as they could, stretching their cuffed hands.
Bano was sipping a coke when a guy sat beside her.
"Wanna dance?" the guy asked Bano.
"Umm no thank you".
"Oh come one! Just one dance. After that I'll leave you alone".
"Umm". Maybe dancing with him will make me take my mind off Jungkook, Bano was just about to reply when Jungkook spoke.
"Backoff. She's my girlfriend".
"Oh ok sorry dude" the guy went away to dance alone.
"Hey I wanted to dance with him".
"Yeah I'm sure when he asked you to dance he wouldn't have appreciated a third wheel" Jungkook lifted their cuffed hands to make a point.
"Oh alright! you're right" "Bano sighed. She suddenly felt extremely tired. "Can we leave?"
Jungkook was about to protest when he looked at Bano and saw how exhausted she was. "Ok. Let's tell Tae and Jimin we're leaving. The other hyungs just arrived, let's greet them and get out of here"
"Thank you" Bano couldn't believe she just thanked him. She wasn't in her right mind she decided. She needed rest.
- 10 -
They went home and ordered pizza. They both tried to wash up as best they could given their circumstances without either of them falling flat on their face or yelling at the other. Once they were done they came out and sat in front of the TV.
"Let's play Wii" Jungkook picked up the remote and switched it on.
"Uff games" Bano huffed. "I never understood the fascination".
Five minutes later their was a lot of yelling going around. Bano and Jungkook's competitive side was showing as they continued the racing game trying to beat the other. So far Jungkook had won two games and Bano one, but she was determined to win this one too when the doorbell rang.
"I'll get it" Jungkook paused the game and got up and suddenly fell on his butt. "Ow. Forgot about the cuffs. You'll have to come with me" he said to Bano and they both got up to get the pizza.
"I was clearly winning"
"Yeah right!! you won only one game. I won two"
"Yeah well if the pizza guy hadn't interrupted I would've won this one too"
"Sure. If you're delusional that is"
"I'm not. I was gonna win admit it"
"Ok ok let's call it a tie and watch a movie while eating ok?" Jungkook got up and turned on the TV. He pulled up the Netflix screen and handed Bano the remote. "Select one".
"How about a romcom" Bano looked through and found The Vow. "Let's watch this one it's my favorite".
"Ugh ok. But only because I'm too tired to argue".
"Sure sure. Whatever you say".
- 11 -
Before they knew it, the box of pizza was empty and their bellies were full.
"Don't you think it's too much for her, how he's hell bent on trying to pretend everything's normal without thinking about her? I mean come on! She lost her memory. If you want what's best for her then let her go with her parents even though they are awful. But maybe that would be good for her!"
"No you see, it's not just her whose world has changed. I mean think about it. Leo is scared. His wife can't remember him. Like at all. If he let her go then she might not come back".
"Yeah but if he loves her he should want her to be ok. He shouldn't be thinking about her leaving him" Bano said.
"But see that's the thing. He loves her but he's also selfish. He wants to keep her no matter what. He's not really thinking about her as much as he's thinking about himself too. He loves her so he doesn't want to let her go. He can't see how much she's confused because he's thinking about himself and how confused he is too. Love isn't as unconditional as novels say. It's usually tinged with selfishness. That's what this movie shows. Do you know its based on a true story? It's brilliant!"
Bano could hear the same passion she had heard earlier in his voice. I guess he has a thing for real depiction of daily life in movies. That's why he's so picky with his roles. She was starting to understand this person a little better. Bano could no longer fight the exhaustion. Through half lidded eyes, she saw Paige breaking up with Leo and going back to her family. Even though she knew the ending, it still made her sad. Her head drooped onto Jungkook's shoulder but she didn't move away. Instead she snuggled into him. Maybe she was too tired to make up excuses anymore, or maybe she didn't want to anymore. She couldn't care at the moment. It had been a long and exhausting day, Jungkook wasn't as bad a person as she thought, she was sleepy and so she didn't care.
"Umm Bano" Jungkook nudged her.
"Hmm". It was the first time he didn't refer to her by her full name. She snuggled closer and Jungkook sighed.
Jk. I should call him Jk. After today I'm sure we're friends. She felt him move and suddenly her cuffed arm moved behind her back as Jk grabbed her and picked her up bridal style. It was a little uncomfortable, but with cuffed hands he couldn't pick her up in any better way.
He laid her down gently on his bed and pulled the covers over her. Not knowing what else to do, he laid down beside her and put a pillow between them - that was as much of a gentleman as he was gonna be.
Two hours later he still couldn't sleep. He kept staring at Bano, sleeping so peacefully and looking so different than the person he chose to see every time they met on set. He thought she was shallow and snobby but it had turned out she wasn't. She really wasn't that person. He smiled to himself and saw her opening her eyes.
"What time is it?" She asked through half-lidded eyes.
"It's ok. It's only 4am. You can sleep more" Jungkook said but by now she was a little more alert. Thankfully she didn't jump this time when she realized they were sleeping in the same bed.
"You know, you aren't as bad as I thought" Bano whispered.
He suddenly had the strongest urge to kiss her, so he moved forward, his forehead resting against hers, his lips inches away from her asking permission.
When she didn't move away, he covered the distance and pressed his lips to hers, grabbing her cuffed hand in his and threading their fingers together, his other hand on her cheek. He kissed her for a long time until they were both breathless.
"Well, you aren't so bad yourself" Jungkook said with a half smile, still breathing hard. Bano shrugged and kissed him in reply, moving down his throat and back up.
"Umm Bano slow down. I know I'm hot and all, but let's not move too fast yeah?" Bano smacked him with a pillow in reply and suddenly they both began a single handed pillow fight.
They laughed and talked and kissed all night long, and when the next morning came, they surprised the crew with their quick smiles and shy glances at each other.
A few weeks later they would officially start dating, a year later Jk would land a lead role in a drama that would go viral. Four months later Bano would be his co-star as a main lead in another drama. Two months later they would both be asked to star in a movie. They would move in with each other at the start of the production and approximately 60 days later, as soon as the movie production would end, Jk would get down on one knee on the last day at the production studio and propose to her. She would say yes and the production crew would cheer. By the time the movie would premiere, around 6 months later, they would be married and attend the premiere as a happily married couple. Another few years they would both be nominated for Oscars and after the third nomination they would win the award for "Best Foreign Film". They would have 3 kids, twin girls and a boy and they would see them grow old and struggle for their passions. They would happily grow old together, and when the day came they would be buried next to each other.
But for now, they continued talking blissfully making up for time lost in hating each other.
- 12 -
~Every night I close my eyes and pray we have forever 'Cause I love the way we're growing old together~ -Richie Mcdonald
- The End -
A/N: This fic is really close to my heart. It’s my first story with kind of a plot. Usually I’m not good with writing long pieces since I lose attention easily so I really love my effort on this one
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Ok, so I’ll post some vids and pics from Chicago Pride here soon, but first I need to vent about how much I disliked it...
So, my first Pride. I expected rainbows everywhere, people dressed like rainbow strippers, and a lot of beautiful drag queens, trans folks, and this feeling of inclusion and well, pride.
I did not get much of that. For one thing, I’ve never considered myself to have a decent-working gaydar, but damn was it easy to tell which girls were straight and just wanted to dress up and drink. Like, it was crystal clear what they were there for. The only straight folks I thought were meant to be there were true allies like the “Free Mom/Dad hugs” -of which there were many, bless their hearts. There were a lot of children there who I’m pretty sure didn’t know the meaning behind Pride, and just thought they were there to see a parade and maybe get candy.
Secondly, there were two people with megaphones who were spouting off your usual anti-LGBTQ+ hate speech. Nobody really paid attention to them, and they ended up leaving once the parade got started. Still, it was the first time I’d ever heard anyone other than my dad spouting how “God didn’t make me gay” and that we’re all communists or something.
Thirdly, and this was what irritated me the most: the parade was about 10% actual LGBTQ+ groups, 10% local schools who were for some reason there(?), and then the last 80% was all campaign ads for politicians. I don’t....I don’t understand why they were there? I guess to show that they support our community? But, like, they made up the majority of the parade. It felt weird to see three floats with drag queens, followed by over a dozen groups of people chanting a politician’s name as they try to get elected. it just didn’t make sense to me. There were also DOZENS of cops there, including two driving in the Chicago rainbow cop car. After reading about the original Stonewall Riot, I didn’t feel right about there being so many cops there, acting like they really supported us when their predecessors used to kill us. It just felt wrong.
On that note, fourthly, there was very little about the entire parade that felt like a reflection of gay pride. There were two cars with people from the original riots, and some floats with beautiful drag queens and twinks dancing around, but other than that, it was a ton of straight people trying to campaign for politicians, as well as companies saying they support their LGBTQ+ employees. (Fucking McDonald’s had their own float.) I didn’t feel like there was really anything about the parade that was very prideful, even though the damn theme was moments of pride, with the 50th anniversary of the Stonewall Riots. It just felt like the people in charge really didn’t give a shit about anything but politics. And I get it a little: it’s election season, but still, c’mon. This isn’t about politicians, it’s about our rights and our pride for overcoming struggles pertaining to who we are.
The ONLY part I was looking forward to was the dykes on bikes. My little heart was SO excited when I heard the rev of the engines in the distance, and each couple or single butch that passed on her bike made me feel proud for the five minutes they were passing by.
I’d WANTED to go out to a bar to drink for a bit, but 1. everyone I was with except for one girl was underage, and 2. every gay bar was packed with straight people who just wanted to drink and party. It was raining for a good part of the day, so everyone was taking shelter. But C’s friends got lost and missed most of the parade, so we ended up walking a lot in the rain and getting soaked, then spending hours getting something to eat, as well as trying to get back to their hotel. It was NOT a fun day at all. I felt horrible. I didn’t feel any sort of pride -except for the lesbians on their motorcycles. I don’t think I’ll go to Chicago Pride ever again.
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sweet talk 101
PHEW. OKAY.
Part ten? HOLY SHIT? We are in part 10 of this thing. I am so delighted. So, here, have some fluff with a light touch of melodrama (as is my specialty). @bitchesofostwick and I love torturing our kids with sweetness followed by sourness, apparently.
ON THIS EPISODE: Cass and Liv are doing the whole friendship.com thing, though Liv can’t help but still wonder what her new pal’s plans are. One thing she knows for sure is that all her assumptions are quickly flying out the window. A text from her Mom reminds her of the fragility of her privacy and her expectations. Meanwhile, sweet bb Ellinor prepares for a totally casual and not at all scintillating project meeting with her blonde, handsome partner. WHAT COULD GO WRONG?
Episode title brought to you by my falling back down the rabbit hole of Cute is What We Aim For’s music, especially this particular song.
part 1 // part 2 // part 3 // part 4 // part 5 // part 6 // part 7 // part 8 // part 9
--
A week after Ellinor and Cullen are assigned their project --
2:57pm. Dammit, it’s 2:57pm. Call it already, Professor Lucas.
“Alright, that will be all.”
That is all she hears before her mind goes exclusively to packing up her lecture notebook, pencil bag, and canteen into her backpack. It’s get the hell out of dodge time. Up out of her seat and out the door as the Professor warns about the midterm study sessions coming up. Yes, yes, fine, she’ll ace the practice exam as usual. That doesn’t matter.
It’s Tuesday, and she’s got plans.
Jogging down the steps in her calf-high boots, she searches through the crowds of foot traffic and sees the pixie-cut she’s been waiting to see, against a lamp post. Blue skinny jeans and a t-shirt underneath a leather fitted jacket. A resting bitch face that turns to cordial stoicism, and melts her into smiling. Olivia has a type and she can’t even deny it anymore: women who look like they’d be just as ready to step on you as make you laugh.
“Hey!” she says as she walks up, a perk in her step that makes her ponytail bounce.
Cassandra grins and stands tall, holding her phone. “Hey!”
“You said wear pants.”
“That I did.”
Olivia eyes her, fending off the urge to giggle nervously like a beguiled school girl. “Do I get to find out why? I don’t usually cater to people’s whims, case you couldn’t tell.”
Cassandra’s grin grows. “Really? Last I checked, I am now 5-0 with requests on your time and company.”
OH. Ohoho. OHO. Olivia’s hands go balmy, a visceral response to being hung out to dry with just a simple sentence. She’s right, though. After their meet up at the Church, texting had recommenced at their expedient frequency. That had led to a redemption coffee outing on the following Wednesday, where Olivia sat down in place long enough to actually finish her chai. That would have been bad enough, if not for the wandering into a used bookstore afterward, where Olivia couldn’t resist mock reading from old social science journals to really drive their asinine, outdated theories home. That was the first time she heard Cassandra laugh. Honest to goodness laugh. It made her break character.
But ego does not pay any mind to sentimentality in the moment of injury.
She swats Cassandra on the back of her upper arm before folding hers against her tightened chest. “You got a punch card going or something, asshole?”
Cassandra chuckles low. A cocky chuckle. The confidence looks good on her, when it overpowers her steady and thoughtful exterior. “Come on, I only got a few minutes loaded on the parking meter.”
She’s unceremonious but charming as they walk down the sidewalk bordering front quad. It had been an odd text to wake up to, a request that she wear close-fitting shirt and pants, and bring something to tie back her hair. It reminds her of when adults would chide her and her friends in high school for letting people tell them how to dress. No one was allowed to do that! Unless, of course, they were your parents, your elders, the federal government…
A few minutes walk to a back parking lot, and they come to the front line of spots. Just down the line, passed the handicap spots, there’s a shiny black and purple bike cocked to the side, and two helmets resting on the seat.
She stops in her tracks. Cassandra walks a few feet ahead, before she turns and faces her.
“No fucking way,” Olivia’s eyes go wide, mouth dropping open. “You’re shitting me.”
“Yes, because I definitely am a prankster,” Cassandra shakes her head. “Come on, you said you spend your weekends on bikes. Or was that you, shitting me?”
Olivia is getting sick of this woman being perfect. It’s nauseating, almost -- and by that, she means increasingly irresistible and that is becoming a problem. In all actuality it would make sense; kids who grew up in families like the Pentaghasts rarely had an interest that wasn’t generously indulged just because they could afford to do so. She probably had a inkling to ride a bike when she was nine, and they groomed her all the way up to being a licensed rider who competed in tournaments or something berserk like that. Just casual.
She slings her backpack straps onto both shoulders. “Well, shit.”
“What?” Cassandra asks as they resume walking.
“Nothing, I am just rarely rendered speechless.”
“Now that, I believe,” she smiles, a skip in her step as she bounces off the sidewalk onto the asphalt, grabbing both helmets and handing one to her. “Be honest, have you ridden on a bike before?”
Oh, sweetheart. Olivia laughs and takes the helmet, pulling her hair ponytail down to rest at the nape of her neck. “No, never. Absolutely not. I am a good girl.”
Cassandra sits up, back straight as she zips up the jacket she’s wearing. Now it makes sense why it reminds her of a moto jacket in a magazine. “I’m serious, Liv. Speak now or forever hold your peace.”
“Ugh, I have, many times in fact.” Olivia sticks her tongue out before slipping her head into the helmet. It’s a bit snug, but that’s not a bad thing when it comes to helmets. “Just sit still and look pretty while I do my backflips on the freeway.”
“And people say I am relentless.” Cassandra smirks before putting her helmet on and standing up, swinging a leg onto the front seat. Olivia is way too besotted by the simple act of her straddling a bike for it to be healthy. A 20-something’s blood pressure is not supposed to spike like that. “Well, let’s go then.”
Olivia’s heart races. It’s a simple request. She’s done it more than a dozen times. Get on the bike, hold the person by the sides of their waist, and enjoy the ride. Holding her breath, she approaches and does as Cassandra did, bringing a leg over -- God, the bike is tall -- and perches herself on the back seat.
Cassandra takes hold of her steering, and Olivia takes hold of her. Leaving room for Jesus, to be sure. Out the corner of her eye she spots a small group of onlooking people outside the doors to the building in front of the lot. They look like a bunch of east coast preps lost on their way to the nearest Hollister, and their faces are anything but pleased. One girl with french braids and a binder to her chest, brow furrowing. A guy, hands on his hips, wearing a knit Ralph Lauren-looking sweater even though it’s a 70 degrees out at least. A couple others, but it’s those two faces that stink the most.
What’s good, bro? Got milk with fat in your latte this morning, Chadworth? she sneers in her head. Her temper has two gears: territorial pomeranian, and pomeranian gone off the rails.
Cassandra kicks up the stand and revs the engine. “Ready?” she yells over her shoulder.
Olivia’s hands press harder against her waist, and she refocuses. “Negative, Ghost Rider, the pattern is full.” She then leans against her back, as close as her mouth can get to her ear. “Hell yeah I am.”
They reverse and then blow the popsicle stand. Cassandra rides well, and she doesn’t speed or try things. Corners are careful, speed limits respected. When they merge onto the freeway Olivia leans against her straight rather than do what she likes to do -- tricks like tossing her arms into the air, arching back, feeling the adrenaline race in her veins. Instead, she holds on, and takes in the scene racing on either side of them. No backflips.
Eventually they get off several exits down and pull into uptown where the pho shop is. It’s small, and tucked away a bit, but it’s a favorite among “the students” as the locals would say. They find a table by the window, small and built for two, and go ham on two bowls of soup.
“Oh yeah, toss those babies in,” Olivia teases, sliding her bowl across so Cassandra can drop in the peppers she doesn’t want. “Ah, yes, glorious. Thank you.”
Cassandra grins, throwing in the last piece and then grabbing for more bean sprouts. “Your table manners are compelling.”
“Good, it took me five years of debutante training to get me to stop hanging off the chandeliers.”
“Only five?”
“Five...and a half,” she wags her finger in the air, her other hand stirring her noodles around. Cassandra is spooning some broth to her lips, not a single sound of slurping or crass inhaling. It’s textbook table etiquette.
“So, how was your day?” she asks after she swallows.
“Good. Class was good...a lecture on the Peloponnesian war. I should have known better than take an Antiquated history class without bothering with the prereq.”
“What, is it difficult?”
“Not...exactly,” Liv shrugs, tossing a piece of beef into her mouth. “It’s just involved. Like, everyone there wants to be the next great archeologist or history authority. I just want to know how we got this point in our society, get an A, and move on.”
Cassandra wipes the side of her lip with her napkin, before placing it to the table and picking up another bundle of noodles between her chopsticks. “I can understand that. Some people really get bizarre in those classes. I once got into it with a guy who insisted on his hair-brained reddit factoids being true even though they stipulated that Stalin was like, this nice guy who loved kids and lattes.”
“Agh! What the fuck?”
“I know. I nearly asked him to throw hands on the quad afterward. Tell him where he could put his soviet apologia. I hate it when I’m made to feel like reduced to capitalist swine just for telling Craig whoever-the-hell that all his heroes died despotic cowards, and it’s not an ‘ironic’ fascination if he has a giant U.S.S.R flag hanging in his dorm room.”
Olivia snorts as she’s mid-gulp of broth, her hand going to her mouth and cupping against her lips and wet nose. She turns away briefly to wipe off her mess, while Cassandra looks on with a smile. A habitual concern is smearing her lipstick, but as she’s pressing, she remembers she didn't put on any that morning. In fact, she hardly bothered with anything more than concealer and eyeliner. She could rub her face in a thick towel, and it would be fine.
“I hope that was meant to be a laugh. You okay?” she comments, taking in another mouthful of noodles.
“You know,” Olivia remarks as she presses her napkin to her face, hopefully not smearing her contour or highlight, “you comment a lot on my quirks. You got a problem, Pentaghast?”
“Not at all, Sinclair. Why would I?” she tilts her chin, her hand stilling.
“Uh, I don’t know. You bothered, or whatever.” Maybe you’re trying to tell me to stop doing it by commenting, like my parents do. Darling, you’re mouth breathing. Sweetie, you talk when you can’t improve the silence.
“Nah,” Cassandra chews small, “Just teasing. If anything, your concern should be that I find you too fascinating to be real.”
Butterflies. She’s been causing them more lately ever since they agreed to this ‘friendship.’ Because that was totally what was supposed to happen when you’re good pals.
“Hm,” Olivia nods, preparing another bite in her bowl. “I’ll take that answer.”
“Lofty affirmation.”
“Yep.”
They settle into eating for a minute or two. Her phone had sat untouched on the corner of the table, on silent, too. Texts and calls don’t matter in the moment. It’s her getaway for more reasons than she’d like to admit.
“Speaking of bothered. Cullen’s still trying to pretend he doesn’t care that Ellinor wants to be friends. There’s no living with him,” Cassandra says, breaking the contented silence. “It’s been, what, a week since they got that group project assignment?”
“Ugh, yeah,” Olivia watches her broth as she stirs around the floating veggies. “Ellinor won’t stop not talking about it. But they’re finally meeting up soon, right? They have to. It’s like, the rule of group projects.”
“...Does she like him?”
“Does he like her?”
Their eyes meet, and smiles grow on both their faces. Olivia laughs to off-set her nerves from it. “Shit, obvious answers are obvious.”
She shakes some more of the hoisin sauce into her bowl, before tossing it up in the air towards Cassandra’s side. Cassandra, in her athletic prowess, catches it without so much as looking up.
“You’re keeping me on my toes. What’s next, another ‘trust’ fall?”
Olivia shakes her head mockingly and upturns her nose. “The lady doth protest too much, methinks.”
“You got the wrong girl if you’re looking for lack of protestation,” Cassandra counters, mixing.
“Maybe you’d find better company with those people watching us get on your bike. They looked full of ideas to protest. Women’s reproductive choice, suffrage, poor people having rights…”
“You mean Daniel and everyone?”
Great. Of course, she knows them. “...Uh, sure?”
“Hah,” Cassandra shakes her head. “They’re opinionated, alright. Just not very good, or original, at it. They go to Church. Our families know each other. All fun friends at the ski lodge and mission trips,” she mocks, eyes rolling a bit.
Church, church, church. It all went back to Church. That was perhaps the most religious thought she had ever had on her own volition.
“So, I take it they’re not very cool?”
“That’s one way of putting it. Insufferable is another.”
“Does that mean they don’t like you being around me?”
Cassandra holds her noodles mid-air hanging on the chopsticks as she pauses to give her a look. “Liv, they dislike a lot of things.”
“Yeah, but, they were giving me shitty glares of death in the parking lot. And I’m not a thing.”
“I didn’t say you where. I just meant that--”
“It’d make sense, I mean...promiscuous witch straddling your bike with her blasphemous thighs, you riding off on the highway to hell,” she starts to choke on her laugh, unable to keep a straight face.
Cassandra smiles smartly. There’s a glimmer in her eye that wasn’t there before. “I try not to worry what other people think. It gets ridiculous after a while, if you let it under your skin. My family brings enough attention to my life as it is. I don’t need to treat everything like tabloid fodder in my free time. But if I did, I’d want it to be written using your flare for vivid imagery.”
She’s eloquent, even when she’s hanging out with no audience. A bit awkward on the delivery at times, but sincere. It’s adorable.
“Right,” Olivia crinkles her nose, “heh, you’re right. I shouldn’t have picked. It’s pointless. I am who I am, anyways.”
“Yes, you are.” She looks up and sees Cassandra admiring her with that quiet, confident stare. A straight mouth, but softened eyes. It’s all in the eyes.
They finish more than an hour later, way passed the amount of time it objectively takes to down a small order of pho. They also take their time walking back to her bike. It’s a partly cloudy day, but warm -- worth the dallying. Olivia will probably get sunburnt, but there’s no reason to care. She does that thing where she pretends she’s walking on a tightrope, and even hops on a couple side-by-side benches to do so. Cassandra keeps to herself, but matches her pace at every slow-down and quickening of steps.
Then, she does one of those things that surprises Olivia just as she thinks she has the situation settled: as she approaches the end of the last bench, Cassandra offers her hand to her. She stops and stares at it, probably longer than she should if the goal is to play it all cool and nonchalant.
Her eyes flicker to Cassandra’s. She’s looking at her with civil kindness, impossible to read. Olivia tucks her chin a bit, grins, and glides her palm ever-so-quickly against hers. She hops down and feels the bracing strength in her handhold -- it was not needed, but it was something else. Something humbling. With her feet back on the ground, she is the first to remove her hand, so that she doesn’t have to survive the sensation of Cassandra being the first to break away.
Eventually it’s back on the bike and to campus where they belong. On the way, Olivia leans against her back, inch for inch, but it’s no big deal. Jesus still has room, somewhere, right? At one point, though, when they are rounding onto a neighborhood street -- one she recognizes as being a couple blocks from Rylen’s house of horrors -- she lets her hand go out to the side, fingers spindling through the air. Cassandra looks over, but due to the helmet, she can’t tell whether she’s mad or not. She doesn’t say anything, and Cassandra is the kind of person to say something -- so she takes it as approval.
When they pull into the fire lane behind her dorm and stop, Olivia would rather stick a hair pin in her eye and dismount. But, she makes it look easy as best she can, hopping down and sliding the helmet off her head. She hands it back to her while shaking her hair loose. Cassandra remains on her seat, but sits up. It gives Olivia leave to stand close, for the sake of the engine noise.
“Thanks for the ride. It was a perfect first bike trip,” she teases, thumbs hooking onto her backpack straps.
“No problem,” Cassandra projects through the rim of her helmet.
Olivia rolls her lip. “I’ll...uh, I’ll text you.”
“Please do.”
Dammit with that poker face. What gives? What’s in it for her? What’s got her so smug?
“Okay, well…” she rocks her weight between her toes and her heels, “get home safe!”
“I will. Have a good night, Olivia.”
This is where she is supposed to walk away. Again. She nods and turns for the door to the ground floor. Although, Cassandra does not turn tail and leave until Olivia is fully inside, safe and sound -- as if that were a concern to have, logically.
Oh, she can do that, but she can’t push be back on the bike seat and...
Once inside, she exhales her pent up breath and shoulders the wall, groaning. Everything is great, but yields no decisive result. Cassandra makes being straight look like a corkscrew roller-coaster ride, and feel like it, too. Olivia is signing up for every go-around she can, only to be dropped off and told to collect her bag and loose jewelry from the cubby hole.
Her thoughts go quiet as she gets up the stairs, and onto her and Ellinor’s floor. And who does she meet coming her way but the grunge queen herself, who’s face flushes in the instant they see each other. Ellinor is dressed for public, and carrying her bag. Her book bag. It’s gotta be no later than 5pm. She tries to pivot and go the other way, but Olivia is hep to her antics.
“No no, no you don’t missy!” she calls after her, walking faster to catch up, “get back here!”
“I don’t...I cant...I can’t hear you!” Ellinor mouths while she stuffs her other headphone back in her ear.
“Ellinor Trevelyan!”
She freezes, shoulders bunch against her ears.
“That’s right. Turn around and meet your maker. Where are you going at this temperate evening hour?”
“Uh…” Ellinor side-steps, “I got...homework…”
“What kind of homework? Would that be...Lit homework?”
“No!”
Olivia stops in front of her, and with a swift fist she punches her best friend’s bookbag. It feels like a sack of cinderblocks. “Right. That’s Lit class heaviness. Try again.”
Ellinor sucks on her cheek, folding her arms that are wrapped in hoodie sleeves. “I’ve got Lit homework. Sue me.”
“Oh, you bet your ass you do. A project’s worth. You going to meet with someone?”
“Maybe. I got friends, you know.”
Olivia narrows her eyes. “Bullshit. Who?”
“No one in the vicinity…”
“Hah! You’re meeting up with him! Fucking finally!”
Ellinor slumps and bends her knees, tossing her head back. “Shit, yes okay, fine. I am. We have a meet-up. I’m doing what I’m supposed to. Got it? Had your fun?”
Olivia dances from foot to foot, smiling and giggling with triumph. “Ohoho, don’t stay out too late, child. Curfew it at 9:30pm! Make good choices! Don’t let him get all in your petticoats!”
Ellinor looks ready to astral project out of this dimension and call it a day. But, as Olivia passes her and backwards steps so that she can continue mocking her with giggles and singing words, she surprisingly stays grounded in this plane of existence.
“Stu-dy bud-dies, stu-dy bud-dies, stu-dy bud-dies!” Olivia chants, scooting her boots back towards her door down the hall.
“Yeah, right! Better than noodle buddies! Get enough slurping?!” Ellinor barks back.
Olivia blushes and bites her lip, before turning her but toward her and perking it up. “Never enough!”
“Ugh, son of a--”
“Buh-bye, friend! Have fun! Kiss kiss fall in love!”
Ellinor makes her escape, drawing the line at old anime haunts of their freshman year depression pit. That leaves Olivia at her door, keys rustling in her backpack side pocket. She gets out her phone and makes quick for her messages, typing in Cassandra’s name.
-- I think Ellinor is coming over to your place for their project. Look alive and be prepared to evacuate the premises if necessary, lol.
Olivia shoves her key in her lock and feels another buzzing sensation. Thinking -- hoping -- it’s Cassandra, she looks quick.
To her disappointment, it’s Mom:
-- Do not forget the gala coming up! You HAVE to come home before! Mom-daughter time at the spa, LOL! Love ya! XO
Right. God dammit. She lets her arms fall and rocks her forehead into her door, groaning with the bane of a thousand tempers. Right around midterms, no less. Cassandra was right -- it was fatiguing to care about what other people thought. But it was different to overcome that when your entire life was groomed for social climbing, instead of you being born already at the top like she had. It’s easier not to care when you’re looking down at all your critics.
But, Mommy-Daughter spa time! ‘LOL’ was not the sentiment she would have used to describe it. “Fate worse than death she must relive for all time” -- now that, that was an apt descriptor. She gets in through her door, drops her stuff on her desk, and hops into the shower soon after. Once that’s done and she returns wrapped in a towel, her thoughts have spun once or twice around the planet’s equator. Turning the lamp on as its getting dark outside, she unplugs her phone from the charger by her desk, and pulls up Ellinor’s name in her texts.
-- My Mom isn’t dropping the museum trustee gala nightmare she wants to drag me to. I want to walk the plank. Hope your not-study date is going well! Tell Cullen hey for me, and be niceee!!!!
She’ll probably invite Ellinor to come along so that her Mom doesn’t get to push her onto the arm of one of her girlfriends’ sons, or even worse, one of Olivia’s beefcake cousins. It’s more than annoying, it’s excruciating, and she hates that it is.
Collapsing back on her bed, she exhales with the daydream of Cassandra by the lamp post wearing that jacket. She wants it all to herself, safe and sound. Fuck.
#fic update#adventures of ellinor and olivia#ellinor trevelyan#modern thedas au#college au#olivia sinclair#modern!olivia#WHOOO THE CHEMISTRY IN THIS CHILI'S TONIGHT
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10 Ways to Spark Your Creativity as an INFP
“If you create something powerful and important, you must at the very least be driven by an equally powerful inner force.”
– Ryan Holiday
INFPs are almost all naturally creative people. They have an imagination that is boundless and a gift with words and writing that has made them some of the most renowned authors of all time. Rumored INFP creatives include Vincent van Gogh, Albert Camus, Edgar Allan Poe, and Kurt Cobain. With their outside-the-box thinking, non-conformist mindset, and deep emotional world, INFPs are probably the last people who need MY advice on creativity. That’s why I went to as many INFPs as I could find to get THEIR tips on hacking a creative mindset when you are feeling blocked. Here are some of their best ideas!
10 ways to Spark Your Creativity as an INFP
#1 – Spend Time in Nature
Did you know that when you spend time outside in a natural environment, how you view time transforms? A study done by Stanford University found that when people go outside they feel a sense of “awe”, as though time is expanding. Instead of feeling pressured, anxious, or rushed, they feel like time is in abundance. Creativity is often blocked when we feel pressured or constrained by time. Being in nature increases brain function, calms the soul, boosts your mood, and gives you the space to be creative.
#2 – Let Yourself Be Bored
Cancel non-essential responsibilities and “schedule” some non-scheduled time. Don’t plan anything out, just leave that time open. Allow yourself to be bored. In a recent study, researchers asked a group of subjects to do something boring, like copying numbers out of a phone book, and then take tests of creative thinking, like devising uses for cups. Surprisingly, bored subjects came up with more ideas than non-bored subjects! Boredom sparks creativity because a restless mind is anxious for stimulation and must create out-of-the-box options!
#3 – Read More Often
Reading frequently opens your mind to new perspectives, worlds, and wonders. The more you read, the more creative you’ll be! Reading just 30 minutes a day flexes your mind muscle and makes you think, fantasize, and imagine. Great writers are almost always great readers! Thankfully, INFPs are usually major bookworms 🙂
#4 – Listen to Music
Listening to music, especially classical music, improves memory, cognition, and creative thinking! I spoke to dozens of INFPs who told me that when they are in a creative block, they turn on the tunes to get inspired and find creative strategies and ideas!
#5 – Smell Your Way to Creativity
I spoke to several INFPs who are herbalists and they mentioned the creativity-stimulating powers of essential oils. Apparently frankincense fuels creativity by reducing stress and anxiety, grapefruit makes you more alert, and eucalyptus revs up the mind and makes it more creatively powerful.
#6 – Journal
“I keep one journal in my pocketbook and another by my bed. I always want a way to jot down my ideas and the random stories that kick around in my brain during the day. Then when I have more time I see what I can do with them!” – Maria, an INFP
You never know when an amazing, ingenious idea will strike you. Keep a journal or notebook handy so that you can catch it before it’s forgotten!
#7 – Get Sad
Okay, I’m not suggesting that you get majorly depressed. But find something melancholy that stirs your passions! Many INFPs told me that when they are in a creative funk they find watching sad movies, listening to sad songs, or reading melancholy stories evokes their own emotions and stirs them to create some of their most passionate work.
#8 – Go Somewhere New
Extraverted intuition, the auxiliary function that INFPs use, is stimulated by new environments and experiences. Go somewhere you’ve never been and explore a landscape you’ve never seen! Several INFPs I spoke with said that traveling and having a nomadic lifestyle keeps them creative.
#9 – Challenge Yourself
One study I heard recently found that placing constraints on creativity actually led to more creative expression! Try building a LEGO sculpture out of only one shape of block, or try coloring a bouquet of flowers with only one dull, unsharpened crayon. Think of a way you can problem-solve a creative piece of art!
#10 – Let Go of Expectations
One INFP artist I spoke with said that when she’s creatively stifled she paints without expectation and without a plan. She just lets the brush guide her and doesn’t worry about creating anything legible. She follows her intuition and emotions and sees where that takes her!
Source: Christine Rigden
#infp#infp thoughts#infp problems#infp quotes#infp things#infp personality#infp advice#christine rigden
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Wishes - Chapter 9
ayy here it is in full! I know it’s 10:36pm EST but we’re gonna do this anyway I don’t care
Title: “I Will Go Sailing No More” (Mike) Rating: T for general sadness Word Count: 3500 or so Warnings: Bill hasn’t had sensitivity training SO some pretty iffy discussion around mental health, religion, et al
Read on Ao3
Tag List: @roobarrtrashmouth @jem-carstairs-is-perfection @tozier-club@aizeninlefox@stanheartsbill@latinxrichie@softeds@pretzelstoday@melancholypurple@wheezygreens@ayyyymichele @loser-marsh
MIKE HANLON TRANSFERRING TO SOMEWHERE IN ATTRACTIONS Currently: AT THE HOOP-DE-DOO REVIEW WITH HIS BOYFRIENDS FEBRUARY 14th 6:00 p.m.
“Round em up pardners,” the frontier themed (cowboy) cast member called out from the front podium of Pioneer Hall at the Fort Wilderness Resort. “Showtime in 30 minutes! Those in the front, come on down and let’s get you seated. Don’t want the fun to start without anybody!”
Mike sighed and shuffled forwards. Behind him, he heard Bill and Stan do the same.
‘Oh, and Happy Valentine’s Day!” the CM called out as an afterthought, and Mike’s stomach dropped down all the way to his feet.
This was gonna be an experience, and not in the fun, life-changing way.
“How romantic,” Stan said acridly. Mike winced as he heard him kick a rock. He wished to God he’d cancelled this reservation - and he almost had, about a week ago, after Bill had made a particularly unfortunate comment that he hadn’t realized was anti-Semetic until Stan was halfway out the door. Mike had opened the My Disney Experience app as Bill stomped around in the kitchen of Mike and Ben’s apartment, and had hovered his thumb over the ‘cancel reservation’ button, but had ultimately decided to keep it until everything had cooled off. After all, after that kind of blowout, it was usually safe to assume that things could only get better.
This relationship was really doing a number on Mike’s optimism.
“It’ll be fun,” Bill tried half-heartedly, speeding up so that he was walking next to Mike. “You haven’t been, right, Mike? It’s fun.”
Someone gave a whooping yell from inside Pioneer Hall, and someone else yodeled in response. Mike was pretty sure that based on those two things alone, he could deduce that the things that Bill found fun were a pretty far cry from what he himself was interested in. If Stan’s loud sigh and exaggerated shuffling was anything to go on, he was feeling the same way.
(Dating a white boy was a little different, it turned out, if said white boy was Jewish. There was a little more camaraderie, a little more of a shared understanding in that.
Christian white boys from the Illinois suburbs? Well...that was a different story.)
At last, they reached the podium. Mike took a deep breath, and proceeded.
“Hanlon, party of 3,” he told the cowboy guy.
“Three…” the CM ran his finger down the list of names on his iPad until he found the one he was looking for. “Righty-o. Three cowpokes? Lonely Valentine's Day for you?”
Yes, Mike thought, as his mouth said, “No.”
The CM blinked, shrugged, and gestured for them to follow another Little House on the Prairie-type female employee into Pioneer Hall. “All right, then. Have a nice night!”
“Do you think he thinks it’s weird?” Bill asked, looking back at Cowboy CM with concern.
“He’s definitely seen weirder.” Stan had moved up to walk next to Mike and Bill. His mouth was pulled into a tight line, and Mike couldn’t help but feel guilty that Stan had been dragged out when he very clearly didn’t want to be there. “Don’t worry about it. I’m wondering, though - do we have to participate in this show? Are people going to touch me?”
“No one’s going to touch you,” Mike promised, sliding a hand over the small of Stan’s back and rubbing his thumb in reassuring circles.
“Probably not,” Bill amended, and Mike shot him an exasperated glare.
“Dude.”
“Just saying,” Bill muttered.
They were seated about three rows back from the stage, and their drink orders were taken immediately. Mike had been planning on staying sober so that they wouldn’t have to pay for an Uber on their way back, but all of that was out the window in the face of the tension in the air. All three of them ordered sangria, and when the waiter informed them that it was bottomless, Stan audibly muttered “Good” under his breath.
When the waiter walked away, the only noise for five solid minutes was the hum of the tourists at the surrounding tables.
You should have known this would happen, a voice in the back of Mike’s head whispered. Jumping into things without getting to know them at all…?
“We should talk,” Mike finally blurted, if only to silence that horrible, horrible voice. “Right?”
“We did talk,” Bill pointed out, eyes burning little laser holes into Mike’s forehead. The waiter came back with their sangrias (Stan’s white and Bill and Mike’s red), and silently, they each brought their glasses to their mouths and drank more than what was probably acceptable for a first swallow.
“Mike’s right,” Stan acquiesced, pulling back from his drink and wincing at its acrid aftertaste. “It’s not enough to have had one after-Christmas tell-all, especially given that nothing’s changed.”
The Christmas conversation had been a veritable shitshow. Mike had been talking with his father a lot in and around the holidays, which had gotten him thinking about his relationship (where it was going, how he was handling it, etc.), so he was admittedly a little distant in working some of that out through late November and early December, but Bill had made it sound like he was completely checked out. Stan had tried his best to mediate, but Bill wasn’t very interested in mediating, and as such, they’d come out worse from that than they’d been before.
Fate and the cosmos apparently had an expiration date. Real life had 100% kicked in, and Mike absolutely did not care for it.
Still, he was a good person, and he did still care for Bill and Stan (especially Stan, wholeheartedly Stan), so he figured he needed to keep trying for at least a little bit longer.
“So,” he began, twisting his napkin in his lap nervously, “I think…”
“HOOP DE DOO!” The band revved up, and the ensemble ran in from the back. Mike rolled his eyes and took another long drink of his sangria. Of COURSE the timing was going to work out like that.
Bill, for his part, had relief written all over his face. He clapped along with the tourists, smiling and sipping his drink, and Mike felt anger - God, how long had it been since he’d felt anger - simmering at the base of his chest. Why didn't Bill want to hear what he and Stan had to say? There was an entitlement in it that made Mike’s blood run hot.
Stan had obviously seen the flash of negativity that had swept over Mike’s face. He immediately slid a hand out and over, ignoring Bill’s glee entirely in favor of bringing Mike to a more agreeable emotional place.
“Just think,” he said, looking Mike in the eyes, “this could be you at the Country Bears when you transfer to MK attractions.”
That got Bill’s attention. He snapped his gaze from the stage to his boyfriends. “Transfer?”
“Oh.” Mike shifted uncomfortably. “Yeah, I put in to transfer to attractions. I wanted DAK but apparently they can move me faster if I agree to go to MK, so I’m pretty sure that I’m gonna agree to to to MK. I thought I told you?”
(He knew he hadn’t told Bill about that. He had a gut feeling that Bill wouldn’t respond well.)
True to form, Bill was frowning, looking every inch the exasperated tour guide as he considered Mike’s words.
“You sure that’s a good idea?” he asked finally, shooting a glare over to one of the entertainers when it looked like they were going to come interact with their table.
“I don’t follow,” Mike said, mirroring Bill’s frown.
“It’s just--” Bill was struggling to find the words for what he wanted to say, which made Mike extremely suspicious. “Dating someone you work with? Is that wise?”
A waiter slid a slab of cornbread on to their table. It fell with a loud clatter, and Mike winced. He finished his glass of sangria, and wordlessly, the waiter took the glass away.
“Technically, we all work together,” Stan pointed out, clutching his drink and pointedly ignoring the cornbread.
“Yeah, but like,’ Bill gestured vaguely with his hands. “Same park is different than park-park-hotel, you know?”
“Richie and Eddie make it work,” Mike said, angrier than he intended to.
Stan winced. “Sort of. What a mess.”
“I thought they were making it work, anyway,” Mike amended. They okay?”
“Oh--” Stan rolled his eyes and waved his hands. “They’re actually fine, but there’s always something. I don’t know what Eddie’s freaking out about right now, but Richie’s current big thing is that he wants to have sex, but doesn’t know how to ask. It’s like his hiatus from sex turned him back into a virgin again or something. He wasn’t like this in undergrad.”
“Maybe he just really cares,” Mike suggested, feeling heavy at the thought of his friend still being nervous about communicating with Eddie after all this time. It had been months, now, and the two of them were still kind of behaving like middle-schoolers.
“Maybe he should be on medication,” Bill countered. “How long has he been this jittery-anxious? And Stan, didn’t you say he was depressed? Has he been auditioning or anything?”
“I said I was worried,” Stan shot back. “Where the hell are you getting the rest of that? You barely even know him.”
“I’ve known him for three years,” Bill said incredulously, staring at Stan like Stan had just admitted to murder. “Just because you’ve known him the longest--”
“You two didn’t spend time together until this past November,” Stan said, acid in his voice. “You have no right to insinuate that stuff about him.”
Bill rolled his eyes and downed the rest of his sangria. “You guys are offended by everything. You remind me of this creative writing professor I had in college--”
The waitress came back with drink refills before Bill could finish his story, and Mike could have kissed him for it. He really hadn’t wanted to hear about the rest of Bill’s college experience.
“Not offended,” Mike said, summoning what little patience he had left. “Just concerned, is all, and wishing you would maybe think before you speak sometimes. Your experiences aren’t all universal.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Bill said shortly, turning his body so that he was facing the stage. Mike met Stan’s eyes and could tell that they were on the same exasperated page. Of course Bill wasn’t interested in hearing out their concerns. Of course.
“I think you don’t want Mike to transfer to MK because it makes you feel special to be the only one that knows how things work there,” Stan called, loud enough to get Bill’s attention (as well as the attention of the two families of guests on either side of them). “I know it’s not because you don’t want to share space for the sake of the relationship. You would never run into each other in the Magic Kingdom. Trillions of people work there. No.” Stan paused, and Bill’s face twitched like he was thinking about turning away again. To his credit, he didn’t. “We’ve seen how much you love giving tours and being in charge. MK is your turf. Why don’t you just say so instead of making things up?”
There was a tense silence in which Mike and Stan stared at Bill, and Bill stared at the floor. In the background, one of the performers was doing a solo number, but Mike was beyond caring about what was happening on stage, except that they were totally wasting money by not watching. Bill’s eyes kept edging up, like he was thinking the same thing about how much dinner and a show had cost, but he resisted for a good two minutes. Finally, he seemed to make a decision, and rolled his shoulders back, looking first at Stan and then slowly over to Mike.
“Okay, fine,” Bill said quietly. “I like having MK to myself. It’s selfish. That’s why I didn’t say it.”
The soloist on stage finished, and a parade of waiters waltzed through the audience area, dropping off chicken, biscuits, corn, and beans as they passed by. Mike noted without interest that they hadn’t even eaten their cornbread yet. He really should have cancelled this reservation.
“I’m still gonna work at MK,” Mike told Bill, “whether you want me to or not.”
(Truthfully, Mike had been on the fence about moving to MK immediately versus waiting a little bit for a DAK position to open up, but Bill had pissed him off badly enough that his mind was now made up. Mike figured it was a good thing that he didn’t get mad that often, because he was learning quickly that the probability of his making snap decisions increased by at least 3000% when he was upset.)
Bill stared back at him, eyes empty. “Well, I can’t stop you, can I?”
That was the wrong thing to say. Stan’s expression was twisting sour again, and before Mike could reach out to keep him from speaking, he was addressing Bill pointedly. “Why not ‘I’m happy for you’, Bill? Why not just ‘okay’? Mike’s wanted to transfer for a really long time! You could at least pretend to be happy!”
“But I’m not happy,” Bill said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, “and I don’t want to lie.”
Mike thought about his parents and the lie he could have lived, and felt his stomach burn as his next words came out of his mouth. “Sometimes it’s better to be kind than it is to be honest.”
“Everything okay over here?” Their waiter came back through, and Mike watched, detached, as Bill downed his sangria again so that he could get yet another refill. “Food all right?”
“It’s great,” Stan lied, jerking forward and beginning to spoon beans on to his plate. “I think some drink refills are in order, though.” He put down the spoon and drank heavily from his sangria for emphasis.
“If you’re sure,” the waiter said warily.
“We’re sure,” Stan said, firm and direct. After the waiter was gone, he turned back to Bill. “See? A little lie. Didn’t hurt him, no one was put on the spot, we’re getting more sangria. Easy.”
Bill huffed and adjusted his shoulders again. “It’s not that easy for me. I’m surprised - we’ve been together for what, four months? Five? And I thought--”
“You didn’t think wrong, Bill,” Mike assured him. “We know you don’t like to lie or break promises. We know that you’re an action guy and like to jump into things. We know you like to be in control...and we like those things. We do. It’s just...it’s tough, you know? Because sometimes all of your - I don’t know, Red Ranger personality things make it kind of hard to talk to you.”
For the first time all night, the corners of Bill’s mouth twitched up. “Red Ranger?”
“Sure.” Mike smiled back, trying to keep with the positivity. “I’m Blue Ranger, Stan’s Green Ranger.”
“Eddie’s the Pink Ranger,” Stan mumbled to himself, giggling into his sangria.
“The point is,” Mike continued, “we kind of feel like you’re not hearing us when we talk to you. That’s all.”
The show was resuming, and Bill’s eyes flickered up to the stage again. Mike felt his own smile slip away. Hadn’t they just talked about Bill not listening? He could practically feel Bill’s attention drifting off.
“Bill,” Mike said again, trying very hard to be gentle. “What do you think?”
Bill’s eyes flickered hesitantly back towards Mike. “I...don’t know.”
And there it was.
“You don’t know?” Stan asked, punctuating the question with a piercing stare. Mike didn’t blame Bill for flinching away from that particular Stan look.
“I’ve had a lot to drink,” Bill admitted. “I feel okay right now, but I have a feeling when I go to use the bathroom…”
“That’s when you know,” Mike agreed.
“Okay.” Stan nodded, brow furrowed in thought. “Okay, we’ll sleep on it, but Bill - I know you’re set in your ways, but if you really don’t think you can compromise…”
“Don’t,” Bill said softly. Mike averted his eyes out of habit. He never knew what to do when people got emotional in front of him. He loved his parents very much, but he hadn’t had very much practice in feelings response with his ex-military father and strong, solemn mother. “I don’t want to think about that yet.”
Mike looked hard at Stan, who was examining Bill’s face. From the intensity in his eyes, Mike knew that Stan’s mind was made up, and not the way that Bill was leaning. It was going to be up to Mike to make the final decision.
He didn’t want that kind of responsibility, especially tonight. He’d had a lot to drink, too.
“You have to know it’s a possibility,” Stan urged. “We can’t just keep ignoring things, Bill. That’s how we ended up here.”
“You’re one to talk about ignoring things,” Bill shot back, obviously sensing what Stan was getting at. “I could say the same stuff about you as I did earlier about Richie. If we weren’t around, would you even take--”
“Don’t finish that sentence,” Stan said, voice like the edge of a knife. Mike leaned back in his chair, wanting to put physical space between himself and whatever was about to go down. He’d never heard Stan use that tone before. “Do you hear yourself when you talk? Do you hear yourself?”
“I’m just trying to be fair,” Bill said, splaying out his arms. “I don’t know why you guys are attacking me specifically, but it’s messed up, and I’m not--”
“It’s called constructive criticism,” Stan snarled, “ever heard of it? Has anyone ever criticized you before, Bill? Or did you just storm out on everyone that has, like whatever professor you mentioned earlier? That’s not how life works. You can’t just leave-- ”
“Actually, I think I can,” Bill said abruptly, pushing his chair back and standing up. He wobbled for a moment (the sangria was obviously taking effect) and then righted himself, glaring down at Mike and Stan. The kids in the family behind him yelled at him to get out of the way of their view, and he took several steps off to the side. “I’m gonna call Bev and see if she can pick me up. Goodbye.”
Mike watched him walk away, feeling like he should call out but not knowing how. Stan’s eyes were fixed on the stage for the first time all evening.
“This show is garbage,” he said after several long, heavy seconds. “Do you want to go buy a beef brisket sandwich at the Chuck Wagon Food Truck?
Mike looked despondently down at the chicken in front of him.
“Is that what you want, sweetheart?” he asked carefully.
Stan took a deep breath and held out his hand to Mike, palm up. Mike looked at it for a moment, a quiet smile threatening to cross his face.
“I want what you want,” Stan said, expression sad, but firm.
Mike took his hand, and felt a weight lift off of his chest.
“Let’s go eat a sandwich,” Mike said, turning around to see if their waiter was nearby. “Check, please!”
#stenbroughlon#mike hanlon#bill denbrough#stanley uris#reddie#richie tozier#eddie kaspbrak#disney au#wishes#feel free to yell at me for the relative lack of reddie in this fic i know no one actually cares about anything else#which makes me a little sad bit...ok
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The Disappearance of Georgie Denbrough (8/10)
Title: The Disappearance of Georgie Denbrough
Length ~60.8k (~7.1k for this part)
Summary: The summer between junior and senior year of high school, Bill’s little brother Georgie goes missing.
Warnings: It’s relatively canon-typical in terms of content. For this part there’s explicit language and copious amounts of Richie
Pairings: Richie/Eddie and eventual Ben/Beverly
A/N: hey! Formal apology for this chapter, because it kinda breaks away from the format I wanted for this fic: it's all from Richie's point of view. I know, I'm sorry, but I started writing the scene and didn't realize it was over 8k words until I'd finished it. It's got a lot of stuff I wanted to have be from Richie's perspective, and when I tried reworking it to be from different perspectives it just felt clunky. So... yeah. This chapter is a little longer than the others, and it's all Richie, but we'll return to our regularly scheduled programming in the next part! Thank you for reading!! also posted to my ao3 here (much more readable tbh) Previous Parts: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7
Richie thought he would need to knock on the front door to get Sonia Kaspbrak’s attention, but all it took was for him to set one foot on her lawn before she was out of the house, lumbering down the porch steps towards him. Her beady eyes were angry behind her glasses.
“What are you doing here?” She asked shortly. Richie gave her what he hoped was a winning smile.
“I just wanted to check on Eddie! Make sure he’s alright, you know. He had a nasty fall. A fall that was not any of our fault, by the way.”
She huffed at him.
“He’s in bed. You’ll have to come back later.”
Richie raised an eyebrow.
“You’re inviting me to your house later today?”
“No.”
“Well, now I’m just confused.”
Her nostrils flared, and Richie didn’t need to say anything more. He was informed that he was a loudmouthed smart aleck (which he already knew, thanks) and he found that despite how much she hated him, it was actually hard to get her to stop talking to him.
“Well, I’ve gotta scram.” He finally said after a couple minutes spent inching closer and closer to the road, cutting her off mid-word. “Not that it hasn’t been lovely, but I’ve got someplace to be. A date, if you will. And Mrs. K, I really do miss Eddie. Tell him hi for me, alright?”
He gave a wave, then started up the street. Eddie was just around the corner, waiting for him.
“Geez, that took a while. Did you two solve world hunger or something?”
“It actually wasn’t me doing most of the talking, thank you very much.”
“Okay, for once in your life.”
Richie reached down and took Eddie’s hand, grinning when it made him flustered, and they started together towards town. The more people they saw the more Richie was unsure if Eddie wanted to keep to holding his hand like this, but any time he tried to pull away his boyfriend’s grip was steadfast, and Richie’s heart soared.
“...and because of your nasal turbinates and uvula, you’ll probably snore when you’re older.” Eddie was saying. He was using a bunch of medical terminology for normal body parts, and as a result Richie barely could follow what he was talking about.
“Uh huh. Eds?”
“Yeah?”
“Stop saying uvula. I don’t think I have one.”
“It’s just the dangly thing in the back of your throat, Richie.”
“...oh.”
Eddie laughed at him, sighing a little.
“Thanks for this. You were right; I was going a crazy in there.”
Richie grinned.
“Say that again. I barely ever get to hear anyone say that I’m right.”
“No.”
“Please? Come on Eds!”
“Don’t call me that.”
“Eddie? Richie?”
They turned at the familiar voice, face to face with Mike. He was slowing his bike to a stop, hopping off when he reached them. Richie caught his eyes going to their entwined hands, but he didn’t say anything about it.
“How are you guys? I haven’t heard from either of you.”
“Alright.” Eddie supplied. “Could be better.” He held up his cast, the bulky plaster making his upper arm look even tinier than usual. Mike nodded a little.
“I tried to call your house, but your mom got mad and wouldn’t let me talk to you. Well, that and she didn’t know who I was.”
“...sorry.” Eddie said, but Mike waved him off. “Have you talked to anyone else?”
Mike shook his head.
“I called Stan this morning, but he wasn’t home. I think he…” He trailed off, glancing across the street. “He’s right there, actually.”
They all turned. Bill, Ben, and Stan were walking along the other side of the street, an overnight bag slung over Stan’s back. Mike waved and Ben noticed, stopping the other two to point and wave back. Richie met Bill’s eyes across the road and Bill’s lips fell into a line, Richie feeling his own expression harden.
“Let’s go talk to them.” Eddie said, starting forward to cross the street. Richie didn’t move, and Eddie glanced back when he felt the resisting tug on his hand.
“I don’t want to.” Richie confessed. “I think Bill’s still mad at me.”
“Well, let’s walk over and find out.”
“Eddie--”
“I’ve spent three days stuck in my room and I want to see my friends.” Eddie insisted, letting Richie’s hand go and stepping into the street. He was halfway across when there was the rev of an engine and a wild yell, Henry Bowers’s black convertible roaring down the street at him. It was on a collision course, slurs from the Bowers gang ringing in Richie's ears as he ran out after Eddie, Mike shouting and grabbing at his shoulders.
“Someone's got him! Careful!”
The car blasted past them, Richie realizing that if Mike hadn't been there to hold him back, he'd be roadkill. And true to Mike’s word someone did have Eddie, a man on the other side of the street having picked him up and out of danger, lifting him like a sack of potatoes and running out of the way. The man had the hood up on his jacket and a pair of long pants on, his face angled down. Then he looked up to grin Richie’s way before darting off, a noticeable limp in his gait. His face was streaked with dirty white face paint.
“Fuck!” Richie jumped back into motion, Mike right at his heels. He couldn’t believe he’d let this happen again, that again the clown had Eddie and again Richie was chasing him. But the other three across the street had already caught onto what was happening and also jumped into motion, giving pursuit down an alley. There was a hand over Eddie’s mouth and nose but he was still squirming and struggling, a kick to the clown’s injured leg causing him to stumble. Then Stan stooped and picked up a metal pipe from a pile of scraps to be taken with the garbage, hitting the clown in the back of the knees. The man crashed to the ground, dropping Eddie as he fell. He scrambled up just as fast but Richie didn’t care about him anymore, kneeling next to Eddie on the asphalt.
“Fuck Eds, are you o--”
“I’m fine.” Eddie said quickly. And maybe he was physically, but his eyes were blown wide with fear, his limbs shaking with adrenaline. “Did… Did I just almost get kidnapped?”
“Something like that, yeah.” Mike said after a moment. To Richie’s surprise, none of them had pursued Pennywise, the entire group crowded around Eddie instead. Eddie held up a hand, and Ben helped him to his feet. He was just looking around, his eyes still a little frantic, flinching when Bill touched his arm.
“Eddie?” Bill asked hesitantly, and Eddie properly looked at him, then stepped closer and Bill pulled him in for a hug.
“Do you want to go back home?” Richie asked. Eddie shook his head against Bill's chest.
“No, my mom'll be mad. I don't want to deal with that right now.” He stepped back and looked a bit calmer, glancing around at all of them. “Thanks for not letting him get me.”
“He tried to get me too.” Stan said. “Yesterday.” He let the metal pipe go and it fell to the ground with a heavy clanging sound. “He came into my house last night, when my parents were out. I hid until he left.”
“Holy shit, Stan.” Richie said. Stan glanced at him, shrugging a little.
“So I spent the night at Bill's, and I'm doing it again.”
That explained his bag, and Eddie looked up at Bill.
“Could I do that too?” He asked.
“Yeah, but w-w-will your mom let you?”
“No, but I don't care.”
Richie found himself grinning at that.
“Big sleepover at Big Bill's?” He proposed, looking around at them all. “It'll be fun. It'll be good to have some fun.”
Both Mike and Ben looked over at Bill, because really it wasn't Richie's decision to invite people to someone else's house, but Richie had known Bill long enough to know that he wouldn't have a problem with it. Sure enough, Bill nodded.
“S-sure. You're all invited.”
Ever polite, both Mike and Ben thanked him before going separate ways to get what they would need to spend the night. When Eddie realized he didn't have any of that stuff either, he began to fret.
“I don't have my meds, or my toothbrush, or a change of clothes… I'm gonna be grounded for at least two weeks the second I go back home, though. I wouldn't be allowed out. But I can't not take my medication, I just…”
“I'll get it for you!” Richie offered quickly. “I know where you keep all that stuff. I'll grab whatever you need.”
Eddie smiled at him, but Bill still looked troubled.
“How can you sleep over without telling her? She'll t-tear up t-the neighborhood looking for you if you don't come home.”
That was true. Eddie sighed.
“I'll just call her when we get to your house and see how well begging really works. If it doesn't she'll just pick me up, I guess.”
They split ways at the road leading out of town, Stan, Bill, and Eddie going to Bill's while Richie walked back to Eddie's house. It was simple to get into Eddie's room, finding a canvas bag and stuffing a clean outfit in. Under other circumstances Richie would have had a lot of fun with being in control of Eddie's next outfit but this wasn't the time, instead simply grabbing something that looked comfortable.
He was making his way down the hall to Eddie's bathroom when the downstairs telephone rang. Richie held his breath as Sonia Kaspbrak got up to answer it.
“Eddie?!” It was apparent by her voice that she hadn't yet found out that her son wasn't tucked away in his room like he was supposed to be. “Where are you?”
Richie winced, continuing on to the bathroom. It sounded like Mrs. K was yelling, actually, full-on yelling, which was something she never, ever did.
“Sweetie. If you're unhappy, we can just put you on some antidepressants.”
A long silence followed, Richie listening closely, wishing he could hear Eddie's side of the conversation. The last thing Eddie needed was more pills; Richie wasn't sure he'd be able to get down the trellis stealthily enough with the amount of rattling all of Eddie's medication would doubtlessly be doing. He opened the medicine cabinet in the bathroom to find that Eddie needed refills for nearly everything in his daily pill case, cursing under his breath. His mother refilled the box weekly, and it was time for her to do it again. He'd just have to go to Mrs. Kaspbrak’s bathroom, swipe a bunch of stuff, and hope Eddie knew which was which.
He made it to her bathroom easily enough; she was still extremely preoccupied with her phone conversation. Her voice had simmered down to a quiet, sickly-sweet sort of rage that made Richie's stomach turn.
Sonia's bathroom was surprisingly less than spotless, but Richie tried not to think about it, opening the cabinet on the wall next to the sink. Eddie's medications were all on a shelf of their own, all of the boxes and bottles carrying two stickers. One was standard and white, with Eddie's name and dosage instructions on it. The other was a bright red rectangle, with nothing on it but “PLACEBO” written in large white lettering.
He stared at the word, and the word seemed to stare back. It felt like a bizarre conspiracy, but the evidence was there, right in front of him; placebos. Eddie's medications were all fake. Even a box with an extra asthma inhaler had a placebo sticker on it. Richie searched through all of the bottles, only finding one without the sticker, and it turned out to be the painkillers for his arm. He stuffed those in his canvas bag, feeling conflicted as he looked over the rest of the pills. Eddie didn't need them, so Richie didn't want to take them. But still, Eddie deserved to know the truth. Richie grabbed the fake inhaler and a box with some of those red and white pills that he recognized and put those in the bag too, wrapping everything with a sweatshirt to keep the rattling to a minimum. Then he closed the cabinet, walking back out into the hallway.
Mrs. K was still on phone, but the conversation seemed to be wrapping up.
“Fine. But Mrs. Denbrough needs to be aware that I will be there at six to pick you up tomorrow morning, and that's when you'd better be ready to go.”
Then she hung up, and Richie hurried back to Eddie's room. He was back outside in no time, the overnight bag over his shoulder, dashing off to Bill's. Mike and Ben were already there by the time he arrived, and everyone was smiling.
“Mike brought s-some stuff, we're going t-t-to make dinner.” Bill explained as he let Richie inside, leading him to the kitchen.
“Oh, so we're burning your house down. Fun!” Richie called out a greeting and waved at everyone, Eddie hurrying over and taking the bag from his hands to search through what he'd brought. He noticed the lack of his regular medicine and looked up in silent question, confused. Richie took his arm to pull him aside, speaking quietly as Bill went to rejoin Stan, Mike, and Ben by the sink.
“I need to talk to you.”
“Is it about something bad?” Eddie asked, equally quietly. Richie chewed his lip for a moment, thinking.
“Kind of, yeah.”
“Then can it wait?”
Richie was all too familiar with how Eddie must be feeling, desperate looking for any sort of escapism, and nodded, kissing his forehead.
“Yeah. Of course.”
Stan let out a loud, giggly sort of laugh, the both of them looking over to see him armed with the kitchen soap while Mike had his thumb over the faucet, aiming the water flow and getting Stan's shirt soaking wet. Both Ben and Bill had jumped back, out of the splash zone.
“No!” Eddie exclaimed, hurrying forward, letting his hand trail down Richie's arm as he stalked towards the commotion. “Stop it! I told you guys to wash your hands!”
Richie laughed, going over to throw Eddie's bag on Bill's couch. Bill approached him, a cautious look in his eyes.
“Hey, Richie…” He looked at him for a moment before his gaze went straight to his feet. “I shouldn’t h-have pushed you. Or p-p-punched you. I’m sorry.”
Richie considered him for a moment, and in his silence Bill glanced back up. To his credit, he really did seem very sorry about it, chewing on his bottom lip, his eyebrows drawing together. Richie sighed.
“I’ve gotta say, I'm not really sorry for pushing you, Bill. But that’s only because it didn’t seem to do anything. You’re like a brick wall.” He chuckled, Bill giving him the slightest of smiles back. “But I did say some stuff, some stuff that I really didn’t mean, and… I’m sorry too.”
Bill pressed his lips together into a thin line, swallowing harshly. He looked upset, as though upon getting the forgiveness he’d sought after, he felt he didn’t deserve it. Richie stuck out a hand.
“Are we good?” He asked, making eye contact with Bill and holding his gaze. Bill stared at him for just a moment more before stepping forwards, disregarding the proposed handshake completely and pulling Richie in for a crushing hug. Richie couldn’t help his laugh of surprise, wrapping his arms around Bill too and giving him a squeeze.
“You guys are being really cute over there and everything but we’ve got a situation!” Mike called to them, and they both looked over. “Situation” was one way of putting it; Eddie was chasing both Stan and Ben around the kitchen with a rather aggressive-looking egg beater. Richie went weak-kneed in laughter, Bill disentangling himself in an attempt to do some damage control.
Eventually, after a dry shirt for Stan and a lot of direction from Mike, dinner was underway. There was meat in a pan, pasta in a pot, and a mound of steamed broccoli when they were finished, Richie helping Ben set the table. To Richie’s pleasant surprise, the food they managed to make together was actually really good. But Mike had orchestrated the whole thing, and as he currently held the record for the maker of the best soup Richie had ever had, he figured he shouldn’t have expected any less.
They all inhaled their food, Richie finishing up a third helping as Stan, Mike, Bill, and Ben all carried their dishes back into the kitchen. Eddie stood up to do the same, but Richie stopped him.
“You can stay the night, then? How did the phone call with your mom go? What did you tell her?”
“I…” Eddie shrugged. “The truth, kind of. I told her that keeping me inside was making me unhappy. It almost backfired, but I managed to keep her from getting me on antidepressants, so that’s good. I told her that a sleepover would make me happy, then I asked her if she wanted me to be happy or not. I feel a little bad about guilt-tripping her, but it worked.”
Richie considered that, scratching his chin.
“Do you think that’ll work when she finds out about us?”
“...when?” Eddie echoed after a moment. Richie blinked at him.
“Would you rather it be ‘if’?” He asked back, and Eddie sighed.
“I don’t know. I’m sorry Richie, I just… I did come out to her once, you know. She pretends it never happened. Asks me about girls all the time. Besides,” he gave Richie a little grin. “I think finding out that I picked you out of the entire male population might give her a heart attack.”
Richie nodded a little. They didn’t need to talk about this right now, he supposed, winking at Eddie instead as he got to his feet.
“I tend to have that effect on people.”
To his great surprise, Eddie reached up and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek.
“I know. Maybe that’s why I like you so much.”
Richie was powerless against the blush rising up his face.
“That just isn’t fair.” He protested weakly, turning to the door to see a red-faced Ben Hanscom standing in the doorway.
“Hi there, Ben. Benny. Bean Burrito.” Richie was rambling a little, caught off guard, and Eddie looked close to mortified.
“...hi.” Ben finally said, ducking past them to get to the living room. They were silent for a moment.
“Well. I guess he knows now.” Eddie remarked, and Richie laughed.
“Wanna just tell everyone tonight?” He asked. The idea excited him, his spontaneity seeming to surprise Eddie a little. “Bev already knows. And Stan knows I like you.”
“Oh. I guess so, then. Sure.”
Richie beamed, leading the way back into the kitchen. Mike was in the middle of washing their dinner dishes but Richie wrestled the sponge from his hands, insisting that he had done enough already and to let himself and Bill do the washing up instead. That nearly escalated into a water fight as well, and by the time everything was cleaned, dried, and put away it was well past eight o’clock. They all sat around in the living room, waiting for it to hit 9:00.
“Your parents really don’t mind all of us being here?” Ben asked. He looked concerned, but Bill shook his head.
“My dad said it’s okay as long as we clean up after ourselves, and my m-m-mom… She’s just in bed a lot these days. W-we probably won’t even see her.”
The second hand on the wall clock ticked, turning 8:59 to 9:00, and instantly the telephone rang. All six of them jumped up, sliding on sock-clad feet to make it to the phone. Richie picked up the receiver, leaning against the doorframe. He stood on one foot, crossing the other so only his toes touched the floor, adjusting his coke-bottle glasses unnecessarily. He gave Eddie a smile.
“Hello? Zachary Denbrough here. Oh, well good evening Mrs. Kaspbrak.” Of all of the terrible voices Richie made and the horrible impressions he couldn't really do, he had one good one: Bill’s dad, Mr. Denbrough. Or rather, Mr. Denbrough over the phone; they’d never had to try it out in person. Sleepovers had a slim-to-none chance of being approved if Mrs. K knew Richie was going to be there, so when she called at nine p.m. sharp to ask who it was that the Denbroughs were letting sleep in the same house as her son, they lied. Richie told her that he wasn’t there, sympathizing about how terrible of a child he was. He quite enjoyed it, actually. It was fun.
“Hello.” Mrs. Kaspbrak responded haughtily. “Is Eddie there?”
Richie wiggled his eyebrows, looking pointedly at Eddie.
“Yes, Eddie made it here. He’s been here a couple of hours now, with Bill and Stan, and a lovely friend the boys made while at the library named Benjamin.”
“I’m sorry, who?” Her voice got dangerous, and Richie winced. He should have kept it to the usual crowd. All eyes turned to look at Ben, who’d begun to blush.
“Oh, Ben? I’ve heard all sorts of things about him from my boy.” Nervous, Richie was getting little heavy on the nasally tone that was faint, but ever present in Mr. Denbrough’s voice. Stan pointed to his nose, Richie nodding in understanding as he adjusted. “A real stand-up citizen, trust me. He got top marks in the English class they had together.”
Ben’s face was definitely red now, Bill putting a hand on his shoulder with a grin.
“...fine. I’ll have to ask him about that. What about Richard Tozier?”
“Richard? Why would that hooligan be in my house?” Richie’s face took up an expression of pure horror. Mrs. K couldn’t see his face but Eddie sure could, and Richie wanted to make him laugh. It worked; Eddie giggled behind his hands. “No, no. Ever since you told me what color that vomit was on your flowers, I’ve made sure he stayed clear of my front lawn.”
Mike looked both confused and vaguely horrified, Stan offering an expression that was supposed to mean “we’ll tell you later”. It was hard to tell if Mike understood the sentiment.
“Good.” Sonia sounded rather miffed. “I’d rather Eddie keep away from him.”
“Yes, well, we can only control so much of our children’s lives, you know.” Richie’s voice was attempting to imply years of wisdom beyond his age, but with a mental age of seven, he didn’t end up sounding all that astute. “One more year of that rowdy child, then our own will be off to college and won’t have to deal with him anymore.”
Bill began to tap his foot. It was unusual for Mrs. K’s calls to take this long. She seemed in a chatty mood though, continuing to talk.
“College, yes… Where is William going to school?”
“Bill? Where he’s going to school? Oh, uh… The University of…” Richie caught Bill’s eye, desperate, but Bill just shrugged back helplessly. “University of North Edward College. He’s studying…” Another painfully long pause; Richie’s mind was blank. His next words came out in a rushed, uncharacteristic squeak. “Squirrels. Must be off now!”
Richie hung up, and the group collapsed into laughter.
“University of North Edward College?” Stan asked, incredulous. “What does that even mean? And squirrels, really? Literally anything you could have said would have been better than squirrels.”
“I couldn’t help it!” Richie exclaimed. “My default response to ‘what are you majoring in’ is ‘Eddie’s Mom’, but I couldn’t say that to her!” He stepped forward, slinging an arm around Stan’s shoulders. “But I saw your face, and was struck with a squirrely inspiration.”
Stan rolled his eyes. “Go fuck yourself, Tozier.”
“Would love to, but I’m not quite flexible enough.”
Stan made a face, shoving Richie off him. The group made to go to Bill's room, but Richie hung back by the phone.
“Coming?” Bill asked. Richie waved a hand.
“There's one more call I want to make. I'll catch up with you.”
He knew it was cryptic but nobody pressed him for an explanation so he didn't give one, dialing Beverly's number. She deserved to be here too.
“Hello?”
“Bev?”
“Yeah, it's me.” She paused. “Which of my wonderful teenage boys am I talking to?”
Richie laughed. “You wound me. It's Richie! We're having a sleepover at Bill's, and I wanted to know if you can make it.”
She was silent for a good while.
“Am I invited?” She asked after a moment.
“You'd have to climb in through Bill's bedroom window, if that's what you mean.” He answered. “But we'd all love to see you.”
She was quiet again.
“I'd have to wait for my dad to go to sleep, and he's not even home from work yet.”
“It's no rush. You don't even have to show up if you don't think you can. I just wanted to let you know.”
“Thanks Richie.” There was a smile in her voice. “I'll see what I can do. But don't wait up for me, okay?”
“Whatever you say, buttercup.”
“Shut up.”
He laughed, saying his farewells and hanging up. He got up the stairs just in time to hear Eddie's watch going off for his evening medications, Eddie excusing himself with his overnight bag over his shoulder and nearly running into Richie outside Bill's bedroom door. He thrust the bag into Richie's hands.
“Tell me what's going on.” He requested. Richie twisted his fingers up in the bag’s straps, suddenly nervous.
“Should we go downstairs for this? Or… You should at least sit down.”
“Just tell me! You're freaking me out.” Eddie exclaimed. Richie reached around him and closed Bill’s bedroom door, just in case. Then he pulled the bottle of painkillers out and handed them over. He had to take a deep breath before he could speak.
“This is the only medication in your mom's cabinet that's actually helping you.”
Eddie frowned at him.
“Richie, what are you talking about? These are temporary; they're my painkillers for this thing.” He lifted his cast arm up. Richie nodded.
“I know. Everything else in your mom's medicine cabinet looks like this.”
He pulled the other bottle out, placing it in Eddie's hands. The placebo sticker was facing up, bright red, and Eddie stared at it.
“Placebo…?”
“It means the drugs are fakes. They don't do anything.”
“I know what placebo means!” Eddie snapped, and while Richie knew the harshness wasn't truly directed towards him, it still made him take a step back. “Just… You said all of them were like this? All of them? Even--?”
Richie pulled the inhaler box out too, and Eddie snatched it from his hands. He opened it and looked at the inhaler inside, identical to the one he always carried with him.
“How?” He asked, and Richie didn't know what to say. “How did--since--when did she… I don’t --”
“Eddie! Eds. Breathe.” Eddie was taking gasping inhales and heavy exhales with every word, his chest heaving. He gripped tightly to the front of Richie's shirt, bringing the inhaler to his mouth. It took a little but Eddie brought his breathing under control again, Richie rubbing circles on his back.
“You okay, Spaghetti Man?”
“It worked.” Eddie said after a moment. He held the inhaler a bit tighter. “If it's a fake, how come it worked?”
“Isn't that the point of a placebo, though?” Richie pointed out. “To make you think it worked? Even if you don't have asthma, right?”
“What are you talking about? Asthma attacks--”
“That's the thing though, Eds.” Richie cut him off, and Eddie looked a little angry. “What just happened to you, and all the other asthma attacks you've had in the past… I get those too. They're called panic attacks.”
“Of course I'm fucking panicking! How could I not be fucking panicking?”
Richie pulled him in for a hug, letting his chin rest on the top of Eddie's head for a moment.
“I can't not take my medication, Richie.” Eddie mumbled softly into his shirt. “I just can't.”
“If you really need me to, I'll go back to your house and get everything else.” Richie said. He wasn't sure how he would slip past Mrs. Kaspbrak, but he would try. “But for now, just take these,” he pressed the painkillers into Eddie's hand, “and these, if that makes you feel better,” he traded out the inhaler for the red and white fakes, “and just try not to think about it. Okay?”
“...okay.” Eddie finally said. He turned the bottle of placebos over in his hand. He let his eyes fall closed for a moment. “Thanks for telling me, Richie. I'm… I'm glad I know, at least.”
Richie returned with a smile that he hoped was comforting, surprised to find that he was relieved that Eddie believed him. He got Eddie a glass of water, noticing with pride that he only swallowed down one pill, putting an arm around his shoulders in front of Bill's closed door.
“Alright, Eds Spagheds. You ready to go back in there?”
Eddie rolled his eyes.
“Don't be dumb, Richie.”
Richie could tell that at least some of the brazen attitude was an act so he stepped into Bill's room grandly, throwing open the door and striding in with his hands on his hips, garnering everyone’s attention while Eddie slipped inside quietly.
“William Billiam! I require soft sleeping pants!”
“Okay, but I'm getting you a s-s-shirt, too.” Bill said dryly, but he was smiling. “And you're going to w-wear it.”
Richie made a show of complaining, lamenting that “what is a shirt, if not a cotton prison”, but thanked Bill when the sleepwear was handed over and changed quickly. They arranged themselves comfortably around Bill's room, conversation beginning easily. They talked about family first, mostly because Ben wanted to know if Richie actually had a sister, or if his mother was actually dead. The answer to both of those was no, but it was still pretty funny.
Whenever a natural lull fell around them Richie wanted to spill the beans about himself and Eddie, because Eddie just looked much too cute in an oversized hoodie and tucked under his arm. Unfortunately, he wasn’t sure how. A couple times he considered pulling the “guess who has two thumbs and is dating the cutest person in the world” line, but he didn’t just want to spring the announcement on Eddie as well as everyone else, considering all he’d been through today. He wanted the conversation to naturally just flow that way, but he was having a hard time trying to steer it. Finally, he managed to stick his foot in.
“Hey Ben, do you remember that question I asked you about Beverly the other day?”
Ben blushed red, but before he could say anything a muffled voice came from somewhere outside Bill’s room.
“Are you guys talking about me?”
There was a sharp tap on Bill’s bedroom window and Stan jumped, letting out a yell in surprise.
“Bev!” Richie exclaimed in excitement, Bill getting quickly to his feet to let her in. He opened the window and Beverly tumbled in from the tree outside Bill’s window, laughing a little. She brushed a couple of leaves off her clothes, grinning, everyone except Richie looking stunned to see her.
“Y-y-you, w-w-w-w-w-we… What?” Bill stammered out, and Beverly giggled.
“I called her! I invited her.” Richie said, Beverly sending him a wink. “It wouldn’t be a group sleepover without her.”
“Hi.” Beverly finally said, waving, getting waves back as she sat herself down happily next to Ben. Everyone was still staring at her, and she laughed.
“What Bill, never had a girl in your room before?”
Richie could've sworn all of them blushed. Maybe except Ben, but that was because he hadn't yet stopped blushing from Richie's question earlier.
“I'm glad you managed to escape.” Richie said. Beverly looked a little guilty, nodding.
“My dad said he wanted a drink when he got home, so I crushed up a sleeping pill in his beer.” She confessed. They all gaped at her.
“Isn't mixing alcohol and soporific drugs like… Super fucking dangerous?” Eddie asked hesitantly. “Couldn't that kill him, or something?”
Beverly looked hilariously unconcerned.
“Sleeping pills and stuff have never really had that much of an effect on him.” She said with a shrug, Richie wondering how it was she knew that. “I'm sure he'll be fine. What are you guys up to?”
“We ate dinner, and now we're just hanging out.” Mike said with a shrug. “Are you hungry, Beverly? There's food left.”
Beverly considered it for a moment before nodding.
“Sure, I could eat. Thanks.”
Mike got to his feet with Bill and Ben following behind, Bill looking like he was trying hard to be a good host, Ben looking a bit disappointed that he hadn't thought of offering the food first. Beverly reached over, ruffling Stan's hair.
“You okay?” She asked him. He shrugged.
“Been better.”
“Yeah, I can tell. You look weird.”
He snorted. “Thanks.”
“Eddie looks weird too.” Beverly said, turning her attention to Eddie now. “Did something happen today?”
“A lot has happened today.” Eddie said with a nod. “The clown...”
“You guys saw him?” Beverly asked. “When? What happened?”
“We should talk about it with everyone.” Stan said. “But… I saw him yesterday, and all of us saw him today.”
“I did a little more than see him.” Eddie mumbled, and Richie suddenly felt guilty. He'd been completely useless, powerless to stop any of the terrible things Eddie had gone through in the past week. He wanted to be better. He needed to be better than that.
“I'm sorry.” He said quietly. Eddie looked up at him.
“Sorry? Sorry for what?”
“I haven't been able to do anything.” He explained. “Not in the Neibolt house, not earlier today… Hell, it was even my idea to go outside today, if I hadn't suggested it then--”
“If you hadn't suggested it, then I'd be in bed getting pills shoved down my throat by my psychotic mother.” Eddie interrupted. Richie frowned.
“Yeah, but--”
“No.” Eddie cut him off, taking both of Richie's hands with his own. “I would have been completely miserable, but instead I'm here with all of my friends. I have you to thank for that. You’re the one that’s keeping me from completely losing my fucking mind.”
Richie smiled a little, in spite of himself.
“God damn Eddie, could you please just let me blame myself for this?”
“Not a chance, Tozier.” Eddie had a small smile playing on his lips too and Richie decided fuck it, he didn’t care about an audience, leaning in and kissing him. Bev and Stan already knew anyways, to some extent. He realized though, once Eddie's lips touched his, that it wouldn't have mattered much if they knew already or not, because this was so, incredibly worth it.
There was the heavy thunk of glass hitting carpet behind them and Richie and Eddie both turned to see the rest of the group in the doorway, Bill standing front and center and letting the water from the cup he'd just dropped seep into his socks and the carpet below. He looked stunned.
“W-w-w-w-w-wh…?”
“Okay Bill, I'm sorry, but you're going to have to do a little better than that.” Richie told him, because he was suddenly nervous about what Bill might say, or do. He tried to remember Stan’s words about how worrying was stupid, and the rational part of him knew that Stan was right, but that rational part was very, very small, especially in the face of something as terrifying as possibly losing a best friend.
“I-I-I-I-I…” Bill stammered a bit more. “...what?”
That wasn’t much, but it was something.
“I like Eddie.” Richie explained. Eddie hit him in the arm. “A lot.” He tacked on.
Eddie hit him again.
“What?” Richie asked indignantly.
“I don’t know!” Eddie replied. “Just…” He gestured at Bill.
“He might be broken.” Richie said gravely, just to have Eddie hit him again.
“So Eddie is the one you asked me about?” Mike cut in. He slipped in the room past Bill, holding Beverly’s plate of food. He handed it to her, Ben entering after him and giving her silverware. “I mean, I kind of figured.”
“You asked about me?” Eddie asked, surprised.
“I… Well--”
“He told me he thought he might be in love with someone, and asked me what he should do about it.” Mike interjected, Richie turning on him.
“Hey!” He protested. “That was a private conversation!”
“No it wasn’t.” Stan said. He was inspecting his fingernails rather closely. “I heard the whole thing.”
“Both of you suck.” Richie said, crossing his arms.
“L-l-love?” Bill croaked out.
“We did break him.” Eddie muttered.
“Come on you two, tell us everything!” Beverly requested, and Richie balked. When he’d said he wanted to tell everyone, he was thinking of it in more of an announcement fashion: “Everyone, could I have your attention please. I am super gay for Eddie Kaspbrak. This has been a PSA.” He wasn’t prepared for any storytelling. But, he figured, the “show” part of “show and tell” was his fault, and he took a deep breath.
“Well, I talked to Mike. Then I talked to Ben, because he’s such a romantic.”
“I am?” Ben asked.
“And the day I told Stan was the day I was sure about it.” God, why was he blushing so much? “So I figured I would just wait for the right time, or something. But then we went to Neibolt and got attacked by Giggles McFuckface and I kinda figured that any time that we weren’t dead was the right time. So I told him that I liked him, or whatever.”
“Eddie, please tell me he said more than ‘I like you, or whatever’.” Stan said seriously. “You’re worth more than that.”
“He did.” Eddie said quickly. “It… It was really nice, actually.”
“Yeah, because you kissed me. Damn near knocked the wind out of me, you know.” Richie replaced his arm around Eddie’s shoulders, grinning. “And then I kissed you, and you said it was the best kiss you ever had.”
“Sounds fake, but okay.” Stan muttered dryly.
“No! Tell ‘em, Eds.” Richie nudged him, delighting how red Eddie’s face had become.
“Don’t call me that.” Eddie grumbled back.
“Stop embarrassing him.” Beverly protested, because Eddie was blushing harder the longer Richie talked. “You’re just as bad as he is, if not worse.”
“Hey, I just want everyone to know how great of a kisser I am, now that I have evidence to prove it. We've spent the past few days in Eddie's bedroom doing--”
“You cried when he told you he loved you.” Beverly said, crossing her arms in triumph. Richie’s mouth fell open.
“You said you wouldn’t tell anyone about that!”
“Beverly, you knew?” Ben asked. “When did you guys talk to each other?”
“Midnight ragers.” Richie said quickly. “She’s been eating all of my Cheetos.”
“...is that a euphemism or something?” Mike asked, as Bill finally seemed to get over himself, coming into the room again and sitting on the floor.
“I’m happy for you guys.” He said earnestly, and when Richie glanced over he saw Eddie beaming.
“Thanks.”
“So, now that all of my secrets have been spilled, what do we want to talk about?” Richie asked with a sigh. “Anyone want to hear about the time I ate hot glue in fifth grade? I was going to take that secret to the grave with me, but I’m coming to realize there’s no point in trying.”
“I want to hear about what happened today.” Beverly said. “About Pennywise, and all that.”
Ben nodded in agreement.
“Something happened to you, right Stan?” He asked. Stan nodded a little, launching into the tale. The retelling of the events made him visibly uncomfortable, curling in on himself as he spoke. Mike put a gentle hand on his shoulder.
“And then he left me a balloon, which was just incredibly thoughtful.” Stan finished, sarcasm heavy in his voice. “I called Bill, and he came to pick me up.”
“I would hate to think I scared all the little boys away?” Beverly asked, repeating what Stan told them Pennywise had said. “What does that mean?”
Stan shrugged.
“He t-t-tried to take Eddie too.” Bill said. “Eddie was crossing t-the street when B-B-Bowers came at him with his c-car. Pennywise grabbed him out of the w-way, but t-then tried to run off. W-w-we stopped him, but…”
“He tried to do this in broad daylight?”
“Well, who wouldn’t try to steal Eddie?” Richie asked. “I mean, look at him!”
What Richie didn’t expect was for the entire group to actually look over at Eddie, who suddenly seemed very self conscious in his striped athletic socks, grey shorts, and big green hoodie.
“Yeah.” Mike said after a moment. “He’s small.”
“Not what I meant.”
“No, it makes sense. He's small.” Ben agreed. “If you're going to kidnap someone in the middle of the day, with witnesses and stuff, they have to be easy to carry.”
“Well, I'm not easy to carry.” Eddie said. “I kicked him in the leg.”
Beverly held her hand up for a high five, and Eddie took it.
“Okay, but why?” Bill asked. “If he w-wants to make s-s-someone disappear, why not someone easier? Someone y-younger, or something?”
Richie thought back, still distracted by what the clown had said while going through Stan’s house. He couldn’t take Ben, he couldn’t take Mike, and he couldn’t take Bill because Bill was the one he needed.
“He’s setting you a trap, Bill.”
“He w-w-wants to kidnap one of you to… To what? To g-get to me?”
“It would work.” Mike pointed out.
“But he already h-has my brother.”
“But he thinks he scared us away.” Beverly finished, nodding a little. Richie felt slightly sick.
“Why me?” Bill asked. It was quiet for a long moment, then Stan spoke.
“Because you’re the only one looking for him. You’re the only one, maybe ever, and you keep getting closer. Hell, Bill, you’ve been inside his house four times. And he doesn’t like it.”
“S-so… He’s trying to kill me?”
Mike sat back in Bill’s desk chair with a sigh.
“It wouldn’t exactly be out of character.”
#it 2017#reddie#reddie fic#benverly#benverly fic#bill denbrough#beverly marsh#ben hanscom#mike hanlon#stanley uris#richie tozier#eddie kaspbrak#tdogd#myfic
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