#so it would look strange with my fringe wrapping to my ears lol

[ms-hells-bells]

do not try to cut side curtain bangs with office scissors

[searchingwardrobes]

Natural Opposite: 15/16

I can’t believe we are here at last to the penultimate chapter! All that’s left after this is a fluffy epilogue (which will post THIS Wednesday - yay!) I’ll wax emotionally about the @captainswanbigbang as a whole when I post that.

But this chapter finally takes us to the finals! Much love to my beta, @distant-rose for helping me finish this thing, and to my artist @optomisticgirl for doing such stunning work. You both spoiled me, really. This chapter is another reason for the M rating, and the closest thing to smut I think I’ve ever written. (What is it about the csbb that does this to so many of us? lol) Having said that, hold onto your seats for this week’s chapter art, and cross your fingers that tumblr staff doesn’t get stupid over it.

Summary: Dance is more than Emma Swan’s career; it’s practically saved her life on more than one occasion. But when it comes to reality TV shows, she’s always danced in the shadows of her twin brother David and her sister Elsa. Her first season as a pro on Dancing With the Stars was a disaster, and she enters her second season determined to prove herself. All she needs is a good partner. Hollywood bad boy and ladies’ man Killian Jones isn’t what she had in mind.

Rating: M for mature themes, steamy dance routines, and sexy times (But NOT smut)

Trigger warnings: discussions of online solicitation of a minor, bullying, statutory rape, and emotionally abusive/controlling relationships; stalking; anti-Rumbelle, anti-Neal

Chapter Art by @optomisticgirl: Four| Five| Six| Seven| Nine| Eleven| Twelve| Thirteen| Fourteen|

Can also be read on Ao3

Tagging: (let me know if you want to be added to my tag list) @snowbellewells @kmomof4 @kday426 @jennjenn615 @snidgetsafan @thislassishooked @bethacaciakay @teamhook @whimsicallyenchantedrose @delirious-latenight-laughs @winterbaby89 @followbatb @onceuponaprincessworld @hollyethecurious @ohmakemeahercules @let-it-raines

Chapter Fifteen: Stole the Show

The light coming from beneath the crack of Henry’s door was not only barely detectable, but flickered and bounced. Emma wasn’t surprised then to find her son reading by flashlight when she eased the door open. He didn’t even notice her at first, his eyes scanning the page in front of him eagerly. She leaned against the door frame, a fond smile upon her face.

“It’s late kid,” she said softly.

He jumped slightly, raising his gaze to hers with a sheepish grin on his face. “Sorry, Mom, I just wanted to see what happened next.”

She raised her brows at him in warning. “It’s a school night.”

“Can I finish this chapter? Pleeease?”

Emma crossed the room and gently took the book from his hands. “A page and a half . . . okay, I guess so. But no more than that!”

“I promise.”

Emma bent down and kissed the top of his head, then flipped on the lamp beside his bed. “Better for your eyes,” she explained.

Discarding the flashlight, Henry wiggled down under the bedsheets. “Are you going to go on a date with Killian?” he asked, ignoring the book in his hand for the moment.

Emma frowned. “Why do you ask that?”

“Well, you did kiss him,” Henry pointed out, “on tv.”

Emma sighed, “You know that’s acting, right? It’s part of my job. And his.”

Henry’s brow creased in confusion the way it always did when she tried to explain this aspect of performing. “Yeah, you’ve said that before, but . . . “

“Hey,” Emma said, crouching down to kneel by the bed, “you don’t have to worry about me dating. You come first, kiddo, always.”

Henry nodded. “I know. But if you wanted to go on a date, it would be okay with me.”

Emma tilted her head. “You want me to go out with Killian?”

“Well, I wouldn’t say that,” Henry said, picking at a tear in the binding of his book, “I mean I like him and all, it’s just . . . you having a boyfriend or whatever will be weird to get used to.”

“Whoa, hold up, who said anything about a boyfriend?” Emma asked, raising both hands in the air.

“You know what I mean,” Henry laughed and rolled his eyes. He looked so much like her in that moment, it was uncanny. “Just don’t kiss in front of me. Or on tv again. I think I’m scarred for life.”

It was Emma’s turn to roll her eyes as she stood up and straightened out his blanket. By the time she made it to the door, he was already engrossed in his book again. As she gently closed the door, she heard her cell phone ringing and dashed to retrieve it from where it sat charging on the kitchen counter. Killian’s name was on the screen.

“Hey,” she said as she answered, a smile filling her face. Killian calling or texting just to chat had become fairly common since that night on his yacht, and she couldn’t deny that seeing his name pop up always brightened her mood.

“Emma,” he replied, and she could tell immediately from his tone that it wasn’t a mere social call, “I wanted you to know that Belle’s staying here at my place tonight. We tried to take precautions, but I didn’t want you waking up tomorrow and seeing something in the tabloids.”

Emma was touched that he had considered her feelings and was trying to be upfront, but she was more concerned about her friend’s safety. “Is Belle okay?”

Killian let out a shaky breath. “Gold came to her house.”

“Oh my God,” Emma breathed out as she sank down to the arm of her love seat. Across the room, Elsa sat up from the couch, her eyes wide with concern.

“She wasn’t home, thank God,” Killian replied, “but her neighbor saw him poking around the property, peeking in windows and everything. They knew about the restraining order, so they called the cops.”

“Please tell me they threw his ass in jail.”

Elsa started whispering a million questions, and Emma waved at her to wait.

“Not yet. He was gone by the time they got there, and he wasn’t at his penthouse either. Belle was freaked out, obviously, so I told her she could stay here. My place is gated with a state of the art security system,” he paused. “Are you okay with it?”

She couldn’t believe he was even considering her feelings in the matter. After all, it wasn’t like they were seeing each other. Nevertheless, the gesture and his honesty was incredibly sweet.

“Of course it’s okay,” she told him. She gnawed her lip for a moment before adding, “You’re a good man, Killian Jones.”

He chuckled, and she could imagine him scratching behind his ear and ducking his head. “Don’t know about that, but it would be a poor friend indeed who didn’t offer help to the lass.”

Emma heard a voice in the background that she assumed was Belle’s. It sounded as if Killian were turning away from the phone to talk to her, then he came back on the line. “Belle wants to talk to you.”

There was a shuffling as the phone changed hands. “Hi, Emma,” Belle said, “I feel awful about all of this. You were right, I should never have tried talking to him. He showed up at my house because I told him to stop texting me, I know it.”

“Don’t you dare apologize, Belle, none of this is your fault. You tried to see the good in someone. No one can fault you for that.”

“Thanks,” she said with a sigh, “though I have my doubts about that. Killian called Regina, and she says that the finale can’t be filmed out at The Grove anymore.”

“Again, that’s because of Gold, not you,” Emma insisted. “They have to make sure everyone is safe, fans included. The finale will be just as nice in the studio.”

“Despite Gold, I have made so many friends doing this show. You, Killian, Jefferson –“

“Liam,” Emma teased, and Belle laughed.

“Yes, him too. Killian says his flight comes in Saturday so that –“ Killian’s voice interrupted the conversation in the background, and Emma heard Belle say, “he doesn’t have to do that!” Then she came back on with Emma. “Correction, he changed his flight to tomorrow. He’s worried about me, apparently.”

“Well, that’s the Jones brothers for you, I guess,” Emma chuckled.

Belle’s voice lowered, “You’re right about that. So when will you snag one for yourself?”

“Belle!”

She laughed at Emma’s indignant reaction. By that point, Elsa was about to burst a blood vessel begging to know what was going on, so Emma quickly ended the call. She filled her sister in on everything, including the cancelling of the outdoor venue for the finale.

“That’s a shame,” Elsa sighed, “but safety has to come first.”

“That’s what I told Belle,” Emma agreed. She tilted her head at her sister. “Speaking of the finale, are you and Graham prepared to dance on the show again now that your relationship has gone public?” The finale always featured favorite dances from all the couples, and Elsa and Graham would be dancing their “Human” routine again from the most memorable year week.

“Oh sure,” Elsa replied breezily, a mischievous light gleaming in her blue eyes, “we might even add a kiss to the end of the routine this time around.”

Emma tossed a throw pillow at her sister’s head as Elsa dissolved into giggles. Apparently, no one, not even her family, would let Emma live down that spontaneous kiss.

********************************************************

“Are you ready?” Emma asked Killian, feeling strangely shy. She gnawed on her bottom lip as she grasped the door knob to the rehearsal studio.

Killian swallowed hard and nodded, for once speechless. Emma nodded back and slowly opened the door. She had never made it this far in the competition, so this particular tradition of the show was new to her. The effect took her breath away. She turned in a circle, her hands at her lips and her eyes blinking back tears as she took in the gorgeous photographs lining the walls; one for each of their dances throughout the season. Killian came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her.

“It’s a bit overwhelming,” he said softly.

“Yeah,” Emma whispered as she crossed the room to the photograph of the two of them in their samba that very first week. They were smiling at one another, and Killian’s hands rested at her hips, the fringe of her dress frozen mid-shimmy. Emma cocked her head as she looked at her smiling face. That week, it had been fake. Now, the smiles that filled her face when dancing with Killian were real. She sighed and swallowed down the sadness that welled up inside of her.

“Remember this one?” Killian said from the other side of the room.

She turned and smiled at the picture he was pointing at. They were dressed in their nerdy outfits with those black-rimmed glasses perched on their noses for their jive to Sk8er Boi. Emma was crooking her finger to get his attention, and Killian’s face held an exaggerated expression of shock. She giggled remembering how much fun that jive was.

“I think that was a turning point for me,” Killian told her. He pulled her to him in a side embrace. “Thank you, for everything.”

“I’ll miss you,” she told him honestly, not caring that their conversation was being filmed.

He embraced her and kissed the top of her head. “And I you. Not a day will go by that I won’t think of you, Swan.”

Emma chuckled and gave him a playful shove. “Good.” Her gaze rested on a photograph of a romantic embrace from filming just two days ago. The intimacy displayed there was almost too much, so she quickly averted her eyes. “So,” she said, clearing her throat, “ready to do that Nirvana dance again?”

“Absolutely. It’s my favorite, you know.”

She smiled and laced their fingers together. “Then let’s get to work, partner.”

******************************************************

Emma’s only experiences with finales on Dancing with the Stars was in the troupe. It was a completely different experience dancing it as one of the finalists. She had expected it to be emotional and nerve-wracking, but instead it all went by in a blur. She and Killian barely had a moment alone, rushed from a group routine, to their Nirvana routine, to another group routine, then to the balcony for multiple interviews. Emma also had to dance a group routine with all six female pros, and a duet with her brother for a performance by a guest pop star.

Killian tried on multiple occasions to pull her aside for a private conversation, but there honestly wasn’t enough time to spare. And maybe, in a tiny way, Emma was avoiding the inevitable goodbye, or trying to make it easier on herself. Expressing emotions off the dance floor had never been her strength, after all.

It was ridiculous in a way that the finale was two hours long. The only thing anyone really cared about was the announcement of the winner. Of course, that moment was dragged out until the final five minutes of air time. Only then were the final three couples lined up on the dance floor: Aurora and Sean, Belle and Jefferson, and Emma and Killian.

“The third place couple,” Marco announced, pausing an inordinate amount of time, “is . . . Aurora Briar and Sean Herman!”

There was polite clapping as Aurora and Sean hugged the other four competitors. Aurora didn’t seem too disappointed as she rushed to embrace her brand new fiancé. The lights dimmed further, the spotlights intensifying on the final two couples. Killian tightened his hold on her waist and pressed his cheek to the top of her head.

“I want to win this,” he whispered, “but not for me, Emma, for you.”

She squeezed his hand, her throat too dry to answer.

“And the winner,” Marco announced, “of this season of Dancing with the Stars . . . winner of the coveted mirror ball . . . is . . . “

Emma refrained from rolling her eyes at the ridiculous way they were dragging things out. She felt her heart might burst out of her chest from the anticipation.

“ . . . Killian Jones and Emma Swan!”

Emma had never been a fainting type of woman, but in that moment, her knees threatened to buckle beneath her. Killian practically caught her in his embrace as a confetti cannon blasted glittery pieces of paper all around them. The entire cast burst onto the dance floor, and Emma couldn’t tell who was hugging her. David and Graham hoisted Killian into the air on their shoulders, and Jefferson handed him the mirror ball trophy. Killian lifted it in triumph above his head. Then he patted David’s shoulder, gesturing to Emma. David put him down, and Killian rushed to her. She was afraid for a moment that he was going to grab her and kiss her. Not that she wouldn’t have enjoyed it, but they couldn’t have blamed such a display of affection on acting or choreography.

He didn’t kiss her. Instead, he bowed dramatically, presenting the trophy to her as if she were a princess on a throne high above him. She took it but shook her head at him. His eyes locked with hers, and he seemed to understand her meaning. He reached out and grasped the heavy trophy as well, and together they hoisted it into the air above both their heads. The meaning was clear; they had won this together.

************************************************************

Emma stood before the mirror in her trailer attempting to comb the hairspray out of her curls. She then smoothed out the stiff strands and twisted them into a messy braid. She then slipped into a navy blue wrap sundress and strappy white sandals. The media was always lurking around the lot after the finale for interviews, and she didn’t want to look like a mess in front of the cameras. She was just about to grab her dance bag and keys when a knock sounded at her trailer door. When she opened it, Killian was standing at the bottom of the steps looking up at her. His eyes brightened and a smile graced his face at the sight of her.

“You look lovely, Swan.”

She shrugged. “I know.”

They both laughed, a touch of nervousness in both their voices.

“You slipped out without saying goodbye,” he told her.

She glanced down and began to fiddle with the sash at her waist. “I’m not really a tearful goodbye person.”

“Well that’s kind of why I stopped by. You see, it’s not that big of a goodbye.”

Emma’s head snapped up to meet his gaze. “It’s not?”

He inclined his head. “May I come in?”

“Um . . . sure,” she said, stepping back to let him through the door.

The entire season, he had never been inside her trailer. It seemed odd now to see him in the small space. He picked up a photo of her and Elsa backstage last season, then one of her and David at their first ballroom competition when they were 13. He smiled fondly at both then turned to her with his hands in his pockets.

“I just told Regina that I’ll do the tour after all.”

Emma’s eyes widened as she took a step towards him. There was always a six week tour following the close of each season, but Killian’s contract had specified that he would be unavailable because of Neverland’s shooting schedule.

“How did you manage that?” she asked him.

“Well, the tour starts a couple of days after New Years’ and goes to mid-February. Filming for Neverland starts on January 31st, so I’ll just be suffering from serious jet lag for two weeks in February.” He quirked a brow at her. “I mean, I just won the show. Ticket sales will suffer if I don’t go, right?”

Emma tilted her head and narrowed her eyes at him. “That’s all it is? What’s best for the show?”

He didn’t shy away from her gaze. “You know it’s more than that, Emma.”

She shook her head. “It won’t change anything. Neverland ends, then you’re expected in London.”

“We could make it work,” he replied softly. He reached out with one hand to fiddle with the end of her braid.

She stepped back. “With an entire country and an ocean between us? It’ll only end in heartbreak.”

He nodded, his shoulders slumping. “Then I’ll cherish those six weeks all the more.” Then he slipped silently past her, pausing when he got to the door. “My flight for London leaves tonight, remember?”

“I know.”

Emma turned away as he closed the door. She collapsed onto the sofa behind her after he left, her emotions leaving her slightly dazed. She rubbed her forehead wearily as she tried to process what he had just told her. They had six more weeks together. Dancing together almost every night, sharing tight quarters on a tour bus. She thought of the men she sometimes took back to her hotel room in some of the cities they stopped in. And now Killian Jones might be across the hall. She thought of the sexual tension always buzzing between them and began to massage her neck as her throat tightened. The whole thing was a bad idea in every possible way.

She jumped as another knock sounded at her door. She marched angrily across the trailer and yanked it open. “Killian, I’ve said all I need to-“ she stopped abruptly when she saw the woman standing there. “Oh . . . Mom! I thought you were someone else.”

Ingrid chuckled. “Obviously.”

Blushing, Emma waved her in, accepting her offered hug.

“Oh, honey,” Ingrid said, squeezing her tight, “I am so proud of you! You saw me in the audience, right?”

“Of course I did,” Emma replied, grinning as she pulled away from her embrace.

“Anna wanted to come, too, but with everyone heading out to the ski lodge this week, she was nervous about leaving Kristoff alone with the boys. Hosting Thanksgiving this year has her a little frazzled, truth be told.” Ingrid settled to the sofa as she spoke, pulling Emma down with her.

“I understand,” Emma said, waving her hand in a dismissive gesture. “We’ll all see her in a couple of days anyway.”

“So,” Ingrid said, squeezing her hand, “what was that outburst just now directed at your handsome partner?”

Emma rose from her seat, turning her head to hide her blush. “Oh, nothing. He’s just decided to do the tour, that’s all. He was excited to tell me I guess.”

She bit her lip as she pretended to busy herself tossing makeup and face creams into her cosmetic bag. She heard Ingrid make a suspicious humming sound, but she said nothing more about Killian and instead changed the subject.

“I’m also here to talk with you in a professional capacity.”

Emma turned to her mother with brows arched in surprise. “Professional capacity?”

Ingrid patted the sofa next to her. “You really need to find someone else to manage your career, sweetheart. David and Elsa have.”

Emma shook her head as she sat back down next to the woman who had changed her life. For the better. “No way. You help with more than contracts and auditions. You move to LA for six weeks every winter to stay with Henry while I go on tour. Then you entertain him in Colorado every summer for another six weeks. What would I do without you?”

“Oh, my sweet girl,” Ingrid told her softly, brushing a strand of hair from her forehead, “that’s called being a mother and a grandmother. I would do those things even if you got a different agent. Surely you know that?”

Emma softened at her tenderness, sagging against the back of the sofa. “I know. I guess I could start looking for an agent here in LA.”

“Especially if you plan on having a movie career,” Ingrid said with an eager grin.

Emma tilted her head in confusion. “A movie career?”

“That’s the exciting news!” Ingrid squeezed her hands. “A movie producer has been watching you dance this season. He liked what he saw so much, he looked into your time on Broadway. He wants you for the lead in a movie musical he’s producing. They’d like you to fly out to London as soon as you can to talk it over with them. I asked if there would be a screen test with the male lead, but he seemed to find that funny for some reason. They won’t tell me who the actor is, something about confidentiality.”

Suddenly, the room felt like it was spinning, and the blood pounded in Emma’s head. “I know who he is.”

“What, honey?”

Emma surged up from the sofa, her fists clenched tightly. “It’s Killian. The actor in the musical. It’s Killian.”

Ingrid’s face creased with concern at her reaction. “Is that a problem?” she asked as she rose to stand. She reached for Emma’s hands, but Emma turned away.

“I – I have to go.” Emma snatched her bag and keys and left, slamming her trailer door behind her.

**********************************************************

Even though Emma knew where Killian lived, she had never gone to his house until now. It wasn’t what she had been expecting. It was a modest sized two story stucco on a steep street up in the hills. Though there was a gate, the house wasn’t all that far from the road. It was a nice house in a pretty neighborhood, but it wasn’t ostentatious. She would never have guessed that it belonged to a celebrity.

The gate stood open because a team of landscapers were trimming the hedges along the drive. Emma pulled up and saw Killian’s garage open. Then Killian came outside laden down with bags for his trip to London. When he saw her, he instantly dropped them, his eyes widening in surprise.

“Emma?” he asked tentatively as she got out of the car.

She slammed the door shut and marched angrily across the concrete drive. When she reached him, she didn’t hesitate. She lifted her hand and slapped him hard across the cheek. His face whipped to the side with the impact, and he blinked in shock.

“What the bloody hell?”

“How dare you?” Emma seethed. “What do you think gives you the right to meddle in my life that way?”

Killian’s eyes darted over her shoulder, and he put a trembling hand out and put it over her shoulder. Emma tried to shrug him off, but he stubbornly steered her towards the door.

“Let’s take this away from prying eyes, shall we?” he said calmly. He hit the button to close the garage door as he led her inside.

The room he led her into was an immaculately clean kitchen, worthy of a chef, but in her blind anger, Emma barely paused to appreciate it. Instead she slapped her palm down on the marble-topped island, shooting daggers at him with her eyes.

“Away from prying eyes, huh? Don’t want to risk the precious reputation you used me to build.”

Killian lifted both hands in a hesitant gesture. “I’m thinking of your reputation too, Swan. Now, care to explain what I did to earn your ire?”

Emma rolled her eyes. “Please, don’t act as if you don’t know! And all this time I believed your lines about not wanting to pressure me for more than I was ready to give. But that’s all they were – lines delivered by a pretty actor.”

Killian physically recoiled from her words. “Where is this coming from? You were fine when I left the lot.”

Emma marched right into his personal space, poking her finger into his chest. “What was your plan, huh? Manipulate my life so that I’m forced to be around you, and then what? You assumed I’d eventually just fall into bed with you?”

Killian’s shoulders slumped. “I’m sorry, Emma. I didn’t think of it that way.” He lifted tortured eyes to hers. “I swear to you Emma, all I could think of was spending just six more weeks in your presence. But I see now how it looks from your point of view. I’ll talk to Regina. If it makes you uncomfortable to have me on the tour, I won’t do it.”

It was Emma’s turn to blink. She shook her head, his words not computing. “I’m not talking about the tour. I’m talking about the movie!”

“What movie?”

In that moment, Emma could hear every tiny noise in the kitchen: the hum of the refrigerator, the air conditioner kicking on. And Killian’s confused and dumbfounded expression stood out in high definition. Yes, he was an actor, but in that moment, Emma realized something with startling clarity. She could read him. She knew his every expression, every tell, every nervous tick. Over all these months of dancing together, she knew him in a way she had never known anyone else.

“You didn’t know?” she whispered.

“Know what?” he said it on an exasperated sigh. He didn’t know. She choked out a sound between a laugh and a cry. “Swan?” he asked, voice edged with a hint of concern.

She lunged at him then, grasping his face in her hands and covering his mouth with hers. She backed him up against the cabinet behind him, her arms wrapping around him and her hands clutching at the fabric of the back of his shirt. He kissed her back, and their kisses were the frantic, devouring kind. He spun her around and grabbed the top of her thighs, hoisting her up on the kitchen island. His hands were roaming too, cupping her breasts and sliding up the inside of her thighs, hitching her dress up past her hips. His lips trailed across her jaw and down her neck.

“This marble,” Emma panted, “isn’t very comfortable.”

He hoisted her up again and carried her easily across the room. Emma wrapped her legs around his waist, fusing her lips to his again. She let out a yelp followed by a giggle when he deposited her on a sofa, her legs almost flying up in the air. He dove after her, swallowing her laughter with more kisses.

“What about your flight?” she gasped.

“There will be others,” he muttered against her collarbone, clearly not caring in the least.

“What . . . about . . . Liam?” she asked between kisses.

“Out somewhere with Belle. Who cares?”

“What if,” Emma started to ask, then was momentarily distracted by more deep kisses, “they walk in on this?”

Killian pulled back, looking adorably wrecked with flushed cheeks, swollen lips, and hair mussed. He grinned down at her, then scooped her up without warning bridal style. Emma squealed as she braced her arms around his neck.

“That can be remedied,” he told her, then carried her up a nearby staircase.

The time it took for him to carry her upstairs and to his bedroom gave them both time to calm down from the frenzy they had just been consumed with. Killian had intensity in his eyes as he lowered her to his bed. He stroked her face tenderly as he lay down beside her.

“Emma,” he asked her gently, “what are we doing?”

She reached up and ran her hand along his jaw, relishing the feel of his scruff beneath her palm. “Isn’t it obvious?”

He bent and brushed his nose with hers. “I don’t want this to just be sex and then have you tell me afterwards that it’s a one time thing.” He took a deep breath and released it before he spoke again. “I love you, Emma Swan.”

She ran her thumb across his lips, “I know,” she whispered back. She had known it for a while, she realized. But she knew something else too. “And I love you.”

His face filled up with a radiant smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes. He kissed her again, but this time it was slow and tender; passionate but unhurried. His hands were the same, caressing her body with something close to reverence. She arched into his touch as his hand slid up her inner thigh and his lips made a slow, languid path down to the dip between her breasts.

Emma had never really thought about it before, but she had very little experience with foreplay. It was more intimate than she was comfortable with for a one night stand. As for Neal, well, her sexual encounters with him had always been about his desires and wants, not hers. Now, as Killian slowly undressed her and explored her body like someone seeking a precious treasure, she was almost overwhelmed by the assault on her senses and emotions. He had her writhing as he kissed a path down the length of her body, pausing teasingly just below her belly button.

“Killian,” she whimpered, digging her fingers into his hair.

He didn’t make her beg, but continued his path, and when he caused her to come the first time, it was almost frightening in its intensity. He did have her begging then, yanking on his hair. He practically smirked as he hovered over her, but his expression turned to surprise when Emma pushed and rolled him onto his back without warning. Straddling him, she pinned his arms over his head.

“I’ve been fantasizing about this for over two weeks now,” she told him with a smirk of her own.

He grinned up at her salaciously. “Aye, love, me too.”

******************************************************

Emma lay drowsily against Killian’s chest, absentmindedly running her fingers through his chest hair. His fingers played idly with her hair. She turned and buried her face into his chest, taking a deep breath of his scent. She wasn’t sure when it had become such a comforting aroma. His arms tightened around her and he pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

“What are you thinking?” he whispered.

She craned her neck up to look at him and smiled. “Just that I’m happy.”

He grinned back as he arched a brow at her. “Are you sure about that? Since you slapped me when you first got here, I’m assuming this isn’t how you thought this would go.”

Emma laughed, then groaned as she buried her face in his chest again. “Sorry,” she mumbled.

He placed a finger beneath her chin and tilted her face up towards his again. “Now, what’s this movie you were talking about?”

Emma bit her lower lip as it suddenly occurred to her that maybe they should have discussed all of this before falling into bed. What if he didn’t want her tagging along to London? What if it was too much too soon for him?

“Believe it or not . . . it’s the same movie you’re doing.”

A huge grin split his face, making him look like a big kid. “Really?”

Emma nodded and sat up, bunching the bedsheet at her chest. “The female lead, actually?”

She studied his face nervously, but she shouldn’t have worried. Instead of saying anything, he grabbed her and kissed her.

“This is fantastic, Emma! It’s . . . perfect! I told you everything would work out.”

Emma shook her head. “Slow down, okay? They may change their mind about casting me once they meet me.”

He shook his head vehemently. “No way, Swan, they’ll love you.”

Emma turned her face away, nervously tracing the trim on the edge of the sheet. “What if it’s more than I can handle? What if I just can’t do it?”

Killian shifted close, brushing her hair from her bare shoulder and pressing a kiss there. When he spoke, it was against her skin, “Nonsense, Swan. I have yet to see you fail.”

She turned her face to gaze into his, overwhelmed at the utter faith he had in her. She let the sheet fall from her grasp and hauled him in for a passionate kiss, pulling him down onto the bed on top of her.

“When I change my ticket,” he told her in between kisses, “I’m thinking I’ll get three.”

Emma paused. “Three?”

“You,” Killian explained, kissing her nose, “me,” he added, kissing her cheek, “and Henry.”

Emma laughed against his lips as they drifted over hers. “You’re forgetting one thing, Brit. There’s this little American holiday on Thursday called Thanksgiving.”

“Oh, right,” he said with a frown, “the turkey day thing where you watch that atrocity called American football.”

“Hey,” Emma said with mock defensiveness, “I have you know I’m a huge Patriots fan.”

Killian’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “You are?”

Emma laughed, “No, I’m kidding.” She fiddled with his hair and studied him as nervous butterflies skittered around in her stomach. “You could change your flight to Colorado instead. Come with us for our Swan family Thanksgiving at Anna and Kristoff’s place. I mean, I know it’s asking a lot. You’d have to change your meetings and all –“

“I accept.”

Emma blinked. “You’re sure?”

He smiled teasingly. “I’m a Brit, remember? It’s not as if I’ve got plans that day. And as for meeting with the producers, well, I’ll just explain that I want to wait for my leading lady to join me.”

Her own smile threatened to split her face now as she pulled him in for another kiss. Afterwards, she pressed her forehead to his. “This seems to be getting into serious territory kind of fast, though, doesn’t it?”

“Yes,” he admitted, rolling to his side to face her. He reached out to trace the apple of her cheek with his fingertips. “But it feels right, too, don’t you think?”

Emma scooted closer to fit herself into that spot beneath his chin, pressed against his chest, that spot that felt made just for her. “It does feel right. Like all my broken pieces fit perfectly into yours.”

**************************************************

The paparazzi didn’t get a photo of Emma slapping Killian in his garage or any photos of her leaving the next morning in the same clothes she had been wearing the night before. They did, however, get a photo of them two weeks later at LAX, holding hands and laughing with Henry at their side. That was a photo they didn’t mind going public in the least. Nor did they mind the caption that read, “Killian Jones Looking Very Domestic With His Former Dance Partner.” They both planned on making it true one day.

[haruki-ya]

Precious Equilibrium

Summary: Tetsuo has always looked to Kaneda for comfort. Largely because Kaneda knows him well enough to give without having to be asked. Similarly because he knows what Tetsuo needs when he himself doesn’t. 

A/N: Fair warning, this is p gay. It’s more subtle than anything honestly, maybe lowkey unrequited but you gotta look deep into the parallels here....fridge you know what I’m talking bout. Also, continuity?? From movie, manga, or even in reference to my other story which this is picking up from? ? Yeah none of that here lol  

Tetsuo is bored.

From the open window of Kaneda’s flat, he can hear the distant rumble of cars in the street below. The synthetic voice of a holo-advertisement programmed to drone on about tonight's special lottery wins has talked through its fifth cycle. Footsteps are pacing on the floor above him.

A fly buzzes by his ear.

How annoying.

The old woman in the apartment parallel fell asleep with some gaudy soap opera on her giant T.V., a cheesy melodrama that Tetsuo can imagine Kai and Kaneda would find entertainment in assigning character backstories and devious plot twists while watching through her window. Tetsuo can all too vividly imagine his own brain melting if he watched anymore than he sees through darting glances.

If it isn’t already melted, that is.

He’s been staring at the ceiling for an awfully long time now.

Kaneda has gone to fetch bandages, clean ones to change the wrap around Tetsuo’s head which pulses in time with his heartbeat, aches something fierce that even the two capsules Kaneda had begrudgingly forked over doesn’t mask.

His eye twitches thinking about a brain aneurysm, blood clot, tissue damage. Maybe he’s dying, but honestly he’s probably okay (if he ever has been okay.)

There’s an unfamiliar feeling in his body though, something new but not quite foreign. Like a cold: his body is thrown out of homeostasis, navigating a new set of conditions. Only slightly different than normal. He really doesn’t know how to explain it, tried as much with Kaneda and ended up being laughed at.

Whatever. He’s too stupid to understand anyhow.

Tetsuo doesn’t feel quite right though and it really isn’t due to a cold at all. It’s probably not the pills either.

It’s an airy, weightless feeling, something similar to free falling. Like balancing carefully along rusted support beams of a felled building in Old Town, one step away from a fatal fall. Or riding passenger on Kaneda’s bike, arms wrapped tight around a strong torso. Hitting max speed, a higher high than any pill could hope to achieve.

That thing really rides like the wind.

If Tetsuo closes his eyes, he feels like he’s spinning, like the world is falling away around him and opening up into this vast empty place in his head, a previously inaccessible space that speaks to him in nonsensical images.

Akira, his mind tells him, but honestly who the fuck is that?

Maybe he shouldn’t have drank those beers Kaneda offered. He’s usually smart enough to avoid the consequences of mixing booze with pills on an empty stomach, but tonight he’s a little too much of everything (anxious stressed upset scared) to really care about how his body will react, about what kind of weird places his mind will travel to under their influence.

Akira, sure. Whatever. Just a name, nothing more. A name that vaguely rings a bell in the back of his mind though.

Tetsuo doesn’t care to try and figure out why.

Right as Tetsuo is about to push up off of Kaneda’s bed and move into the living room, maybe check out those mags he saw Kaneda hide under his jacket earlier out of sheer boredom, Kaneda bursts through the doorway in a flourish.

In one hand he holds a crumpled wad of thin wrapping bandages and a packaged gauze pad. In the other, a big bottle of chilled Lager. There’s a sly smile on his face too, eyes bright with excitement. Tetsuo perks up at that and maneuvers into seiza.

“Man, you won’t believe who Daichi was bangin next door! I coulda sworn it was Haruko since they’ve been goin’ steady for a while, or well, not anymore, but he has Satsuki Nakamura screaming his name to the high heavens! Whatta dog that guy!”

Kaneda plops down on the bed next to Tetsuo and throws the materials in his lap. He naturally has a bottle opener within a foot of his person at all times and is quick to pop the cap and take a long gulp. Kaneda offers it to him after he belches loudly, gross, but Tetsuo simply pulls a face and starts opening the gauze pad instead.

“Satsuki from math?” Tetsuo asks idly, because he thinks Yamagata used to have a thing with her. It was fleeting, more a one night stand than anything, nowhere near as meaningful as the looks Tetsuo has caught him sending Kai. He practically eye fucks him across the bar at Harukiya’s and Kai just kinda plays dumb about it like he doesn’t know when they all know.

He’s really not surprised about those losers, they have a lot of history.

“Yup, the one with the blonde hair and huge ass. Man...what I wouldn’t give to spend a night with her.” Kaneda sighs dreamily, a lost look on his face as he crosses his arms behind his head and settles down on the mattress, taps his foot to some unheard beat. Tetsuo scowls and rolls his eyes.

“Would you give up your bike?” Kaneda blinks and doesn’t even really seem to think about it before pulling a face.

“Hell nah. Her ass is nice but not that nice.”

“Right. That’s the only way you’d be able to give her a ride worth remembering anyway.” Tetsuo takes joy in seeing the dreamy look on Kaneda’s face drop into something similar to a pout.

He kinda missed Kaneda’s expressive face and exaggerated movements when he was at the hospital. Everyone was stiff faced and moved methodically, mechanically. He felt like he had been a test subject rather than a patient.

“Rude, Tetsuo. Anyone would be lucky to have a piece of this! You’re just jealous cause you can’t get anyone but that boring chick to look at you and see more than just forehead.” Tetsuo flushes and glares at Kaneda suddenly over the mention of Kaori (and his forehead too honestly.)

“Shut up.”

She’s sweet. She isn’t put off by him. She likes his company just as he likes hers. Just cause she’s a little more simple and shy than the loud girls Kaneda and the Capsules like and she never stays the night or asks him over to hers and they haven’t even kissed let alone fucked because she said she thinks she doesn’t like him that way and he’s strangely okay with that doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong with her. Or him.

There’s definitely nothing wrong with him.

“You want me to see if Junko knows any girls desperate for a ride?” Kaneda’s voice is leering, lecherous, and Tetsuo’s flush burns hotter in his cheeks as Kaneda laughs loudly, a gleeful look on his face all at Tetsuo’s expense. He doesn’t like it.

Tetsuo rips off the bandages on his head clumsily and throws them at Kaneda, who yelps and moves out of their range. Which means he falls off the bed with a loud thump.

“Shut up!”

“Fuckin’ gross man!”

Kaneda climbs back on the mattress with a scowl after pushing the used bandages on the floor. Tetsuo turns away from him and tries to align the gauze pad over the deep cut on his forehead by touch alone. This leads to a lot of flinching and pain on his part. He can do this, especially without stupid Kaneda’s help. He doesn’t need a girl and he doesn’t need help.

Kaneda sighs after a moment of watching him struggle.

“Here.” Kaneda holds out a hand, probably for the gauze pad and medical wrap, but Tetsuo holds fast to them, keeps working on aligning the pad with his injury, using pain as an indicator of closeness so he must be pretty damn close.

“I got it.” His voice is flat and level. Kaneda clicks his tongue at him immediately afterwards.

“Dude, you’re like way off target. Ever heard of X marks the spot? Come on, lemme’ do it.” Tetsuo grits his teeth and continues to fumble with holding the gauze pad to his forehead while simultaneously trying to wrap the bandage around his head. He doesn’t need Kaneda’s help.

“I said I fuckin got it.”

His hair is getting in the way. His palms sweat. He can feel Kaneda’s eyes on him.

There’s a moment of silence between them, broken only by Tetsuo’s heartbeat echoing like a drum in his head, by the wail of a distant police siren in the night, by the sudden and very loud scream of Daichi’s name from the next apartment over.

Tetsuo’s hands start to fumble harder. The silence stretches on. He suddenly wonders what it would be like to hear someone call his name like that.

Tetsuo thinks of Kaori and then Kaneda and sighs out his nose sharply. His body feels drained all at once. Resigned.

He can still feel Kaneda’s eyes on him.

“...will you help me?” Tetsuo’s gaze is averted when he asks, and thankfully Kaneda doesn’t say anything annoying in response. Keeps his snickers politely muffled. Just holds out his hand again for the gauze and wrap and takes them easily from Tetsuo’s shivering hands. His head is really starting to hurt again. 

The pain ebbs and flows.

Kaneda scoots closer on the mattress until his knees are flush with Tetsuo’s thigh.

“Turn my way.” He says, easy as that, and Tetsuo naturally obliges.

Their knees touch before Kaneda scoots closer and brackets his legs around Tetsuo’s. His hand very suddenly pushes back the short fringe that hangs over his forehead and Tetsuo’s breath punches out of his chest in a shallow exhale.

Kaneda’s hand feels so good against his hot forehead. He nearly melts at the feel of it, so much more intimate than the clinical touches that linger in his mind from that cold, creepy hospital. Most of the visit was a blur, but he can’t get the sterile smell out of his mind. The faint beeping of machines and stiff, stark white lab coats. Waking up, alone, on an operating table. Tetsuo shudders.

Number 41? Fuck that.

“Man, you’re burning up. You been drinking water?” Tetsuo’s gaze has been fixed on the shallow dip in Kaneda’s collarbone peeking out from the lip of his thin shirt, but now he drags it up to trace along the planes of his neck and trail along the curve of his strong jaw. Tetsuo’s throat feels tight. He can’t quite meet Kaneda’s eyes.

“Didn’t know you had any, thought you lived off of beer.” Kaneda’s hand pushes through his short hair and his nails rake teasingly down Tetsuo’s scalp, along the back on his neck. His warm palm settles there comfortingly. Goosebumps dance along his skin and Tetsuo fights a shiver.

He closes his eyes and that airy feeling washes over him, makes him feel like he’s about to topple over right into Kaneda’s chest, maybe right through him. He swallows dryly.

Tries to think of Kaori.

“Not true. I live off soda too.” Kaneda’s voice is low and warm, sounding much closer than before. Tetsuo starts and opens his eyes, finds Kaneda just inches from his face, eyes squinted in concentration, trained on the gash in his forehead. Kaneda’s hand squeezes for a moment on Tetsuo’s nape and his stomach flips.

Tetsuo stares at the deep brown of Kaneda’s averted eyes. They carry just a hint of green in them, little smatterings of mossy freckles particularly dense around the iris. There’s a darker brown splotch near the pupil in his left eye, shaped almost like a star.

Tetsuo closes his eyes again and floats.

“Man those assholes at the hospital couldn’t ‘ave given you some painkillers or something? Did they say anything about risk of concussion? This looks pretty rough.” Kaneda’s fingertips ghost over the cut and Tetsuo twitches involuntarily at the pain that blossoms in their wake, at the flash of an image that bursts behind his eyelids for a split second, a blank face that’s not quite new, not quite recognizable…vaguely familiar.

“It doesn’t hurt anymore.” Tetsuo says, but the words don’t feel right in his mouth because he does hurt. Somewhere, somehow. A shameful ache in his gut often accompanied by a wholly pleasant flutter.

Triggered at the sight of red.

He doesn’t need a girl, but nothings wrong with him.

Kaneda makes a disbelieving noise, “Uh-huh sure”, and presses the gauze to his forehead, starts to carefully wrap his head up. Maybe keep it from falling apart (or be the reason it does). Something in Tetsuo wants him to wrap it tight.

When he stops feeling the rhythmic motion of Kaneda’s hands winding around his head, brushing carefully over his temples, he tentatively opens his eyes. Finds himself face to face with Kaneda, who is watching him intensely, something guarded and serious in his usually open expression. His head tilts. Tetsuo goes on offensive.

There’s always been something dangerous about Kaneda when his mind is set on something.

“Are you okay, Tetsuo? You’ve been acting kinda different lately. The boys have noticed too.”

Tetsuo’s mind flashes back to the past week, the past month, hell, the past year. A lot has happened, a lot has changed. Maybe he has too, but he’ll feign ignorance. There’s always a loophole in that attitude with Kaneda. He likes to believe that everyone is honest with him, something Tetsuo secretly thinks makes him weak. But maybe it makes him weak to be the only one lying. To be taking advantage.

“Of course I’m fine. I just got back from the hospital dumbass, they wouldn’t have let me go if I wasn’t okay.” And Kaneda squints his eyes as an easy smile spreads slowly to his lips. Tetsuo’s always envied those easy grins (always loved em’ more though.)

“Not what I meant. Yamagata thinks you’ve been quiet lately. I guess I’ve noticed it too if I’m being straight with you.” Tetsuo tilts his head back slowly and doesn’t respond. Kaneda waggles his brows, pats his thighs idly with his hands. Tries to keep this lighthearted. 

“You got somethin’ on your mind lately?”

Someone, he wants to say, I have someone on my mind lately.

That name once again comes to mind.

Akira.

“Nah, just the usual.” It’s a bullshit answer, he took too long to respond, a dead give away. And Kaneda sees right through it too. 

Tetsuo deflects with a yawn but he doesn’t have to lie about that, as a tiredness sweeps over him like a wave. Crashing from his busted head all the way down to his tingling toes. 

“Ok, ok, I see. Just the usual nothingness running through that empty skull of yours. No wonder they didn’t keep you longer for observation, you got no brain to worry about hurtin’.”

Kaneda often relents, but never shows mercy.

Tetsuo scowls and tries to swat at Kaneda, but he seems to see it coming from a mile away as he grabs Tetsuo’s arm and yanks it towards him with a shiteating grin. Tetsuo collides into Kaneda’s chest with an “oof” and almost head butts Kaneda’s chin as they fall back onto the mattress, Tetsuo’s body landing precisely within the valley of Kaneda’s legs.

A sharp pain stabs into his head abruptly and makes him clench his eyes shut, instinctively bury his face in the soft cotton of Kaneda’s shirt. He’s suddenly very dizzy.

Tetsuo’s groan is muffled into Kaneda’s rib cage, his arm tense within Kaneda’s grip. Kaneda makes a questioning noise and lets his arm drop, pokes softly at the crown of his head and begins to carefully massage at his scalp.

“Phantom brain pains? Can you feel hurt over something you never even had?” Tetsuo groans again and a pair of dull grey eyes glare in his mind.

Yes.

“No.” He says, but he doesn’t know who he’s talking to. Tetsuo opens his eyes. He’s starting to feel confused.

“Well hey, you said it man, not me.” Kaneda’s voice rumbles against his forehead and Tetsuo shifts his head so he’s looking up at Kaneda, chin digging into his sternum. Kaneda’s hand is warm on his head.

He’s crossed his free arm behind his head again and is staring up at the ceiling like Tetsuo had been not too long ago, looking strangely lost in thought. Maybe he’s trying to decide if that water stain on the ceiling looks more like a dog or a dragon.

Tetsuo bet’s he’s thinking dragon.

“Are you really worried about me?” He says, and his voice is low, quiet. Kaneda’s eyes don’t drift towards him, but his brows shift downward and his shoulders shuffle on the mattress. A dead give away. They know each others tells but make a game of keeping them secret anyway.

“Maybe. A little bit. But I know you’ll talk to me if you need to.” And there’s nothing more he says. No confirmation, no follow up, no ,“Right, Tetsuo? You can always count on me!”, because Kaneda knows that Tetsuo knows. Always has, always will.

Kaneda will have his back until the end. He knows that. Doesn’t listen to the part of him that’s always whispered it’s too good to be true. The little voice that’s been getting louder lately.

Tetsuo feels like he’s floating again, but it’s not a dizzying feeling this time and his eyes are open and all he sees is this stupid guy with his fast smiles and easy affection who can read him like an open book and make him feel better without even really trying.

“Hey, Kaori was askin’ around for you after the bell yesterday. You should really make a move before she gets bored of your boring ass.”

Tetsuo doesn’t want to think about Kaori right now. He doesn’t need a girl.

“Yeah. Okay.” Tetsuo says, and rolls off of Kaneda’s chest to lie on his back next to him: their sides are flush together and Kaneda radiates a comforting warmth that Tetsuo shifts into, his other arm a pillow underneath Tetsuo’s head. They lie in the quiet for a minute before Kaneda says, “Hey,”  leans down towards him with a smile that spells trouble and burps Tetsuo’s name loud and long right in his ear.

That starts a wrestling match that Kaneda was stupid to start because while Tetsuo’s head feels kinda hollow, his body relies on muscle memory for these games and there’s no Yamagata or Kai to play referee and keep either of them from fighting dirty.

Kaneda laughs the whole time they grapple, even after letting Tetsuo pin him down to the bed.

Tetsuo smiles triumphantly though, even knowing Kaneda let him win, and feels his stomach flutter at the look on Kaneda’s face. His grin is lopsided like he’s trying and failing to contain it, eyes bright with an emotion Tetsuo can only think to name as joy. His cheeks are flushed, his chest heaving, and Tetsuo suddenly becomes aware of all the many points of contact between their bodies.

Kaneda’s hand is on his chest, his legs and hips pinned between Tetsuo’s thighs, his other arm pressed down hard into the lumpy mattress. Tetsuo’s got Kaneda boxed in underneath him and his heart jumps into overdrive at the revelation.

Kaneda’s hips twitch a bit as if testing the weight of Tetsuo’s body against his, but his smile has turned teasing and his eyes...Tetsuo releases his hand instinctively and pulls back. He’s flustered by the change in demeanor and Kaneda is quick to take advantage of this. He fists his hand in Tetsuo’s shirt, drags him slowly down towards Kaneda again and his smile twists into something foreign as Tetsuo’s breath stutters, he stutters, his heart stutters. Kaneda’s hand tightens in his shirt slowly, his mouth curls into a soft, sweet thing, and then he pushes Tetsuo away and off of Kaneda completely.

Tetsuo flops down next to him, breath frozen in his chest, what the fuck, until Kaneda pulls him into a headlock and tells him in a sing song voice to say uncle. Tetsuo yells obscenities at him, “Let me go, you stupid fucking asshole!”, suddenly furious and flustered and all kinds of things that only Kaneda can make him feel.

Tetsuo eventually does say uncle.

Kaneda’s answering grin burns like fire.

It’s been a while since he’s stayed over and indulged in Kaneda’s childishness, played along with his dumb, immature jokes and jibes. Kaneda saves the most infuriating insults for Tetsuo, the roughest play for his oldest friend. Tetsuo can handle it after all. 

Even though he won’t admit it aloud, ever, he missed this.

(He would miss this.)

After a while they finally settle down on the mattress, move onto less boisterous play and into casual conversation, “So was your nurse hot or not? It’s an important questions, Tets, trust me”, and Kaneda’s breathing gradually evens out as Tetsuo’s head stops pulsing in time with his fast heartbeat. Tetsuo glances at Kaneda out of his peripheral after a long stretch of silence between them. His eyes are closed and his face relaxed.

Their legs are still intertwined.

Tetsuo winds up staring at the ceiling again for what feels like hours. Occasionally he glances over at Kaneda, just to make sure he’s still there, and watches him sleep. Wishing, like always, that he could follow.

He tries to relax and let sleep take him, but doesn’t like where he goes when he closes his eyes, doesn’t feel quite right enough to fall asleep yet. But with Kaneda snoring softly by his side and strange images occasionally popping into his head, at least he’s no longer bored.

Tetsuo is eventually lulled asleep by the thrum of a heartbeat in his head, not entirely sure if it’s his own.

[phandistraction]

Run

Prompt: You’re the cute nerd that keeps getting pushed around but you just punched your bully and I gotta save you

TW: some violence and homophobia 

Genre: Badboy!Phil, Pastel!Dan, getting together, high school au

Word Count: 1,600

AN: This is my first writing in the phandom so I hope it doesn't totally suck lol it’s just a short little piece to “test the waters.” I actually wrote this about a year ago but just now finally decided to go back and post it because I want to get into writing more often as an outlet ~~~~~~ “Oi, Howell!”

I tense up at the sound of my name radiating down the hall and slowly take a deep breath, knowing what’s coming. I continue walking, hoping that whoever was trying to cause trouble would change their mind and ignore me for once. The universe must have decided to be against me today as I feel my favorite flower crown getting yanked off me leaving my head feeling exposed without its accessory. I let out a small squeak of surprise and turn to face my attacker. Of course it had to be him. Chad, the walking muscle and living embodiment of stupidity. His ruff hands were clutched bitterly around my crown, crushing the lavender petals. I huffed out a breath before speaking, “Can I have that back?”

“Hmm,” Chad hummed pretending to think hard for a moment, twirling the crown around his finger. I grimaced at his amused expression and rolled my eyes.

“I want to go home, can’t you just go fuck with someone else?” I tried again. He grinned wide, showing off this teeth. Well, at least the ones he had left.

“But I don’t think I’m done with you yet, Flower Boy,” he teased using the nickname he knows I hate so much. I tighten my hands into fists at my sides and try my absolute best to look intimidating. But lets be honest, who is going to be intimidated by a boy with hobbit hair wearing ripped white skinny jeans and a pastel baby blue jumper. No one, that’s who.

“You’re a pathetic excuse of a boy. I’m gonna just do you a favor and trash this girly thing,” my eyes almost leave their sockets at those words.

“NO! Please don’t you don’t understand please listen to me oh my god no no no,” I tried.

That was my favorite flower crown and for a good reason. Two years ago I came out to my parents and they took it surprisingly well. I was so nervous that once I said “I’m gay,” I started bawling my eyes out. It wasn't until I felt the soft embrace of my loving parents that the tears had turned into happy ones. The next day when I got home from school, I found a little flat cardboard box on my bed with a red ribbon carefully wrapped around it. I opened the box and found a letter from my mother and father congratulating me on coming out and telling me that they would always love me no matter what. Underneath the note was the gorgeous pastel flower crown. Lavender petals that rapped around a black band piece with small olive green leaves peaking out at places. Ever since then, I had made it a priority to wear the crown at least once a week. It holds so much sentimental value that I don’t even know what I’d do if anything happened to it. So you can now understand why I would be internally freaking out over a seemingly dumb hair accessory.

I try to plea to him but it seems as if my words are just entering one ear and flowing out of the other without any attention from him. He laughed as he watched me begging for my possession back. By now some of the other classmates have turned their attention on us, creating a small circle around the scene. I could feel tears threaten to flow down my flustered cheeks but I refused to let them fall so I didn't make a bigger fool of myself in front of all these people. “Geez, flower boy, don’t get so butt hurt,” he mocks. I throw him the most menacing death glare I could muster as I clench my jaw. How can people be so rude? And why isn't anyone helping me? They can obviously see what’s going on.

Chad gave out a booming laugh, breaking me out of my thoughts in the middle of my pity party. He gives me one last toothy grin before grabbing one of the flower blossoms and yanking, breaking it from its spot on the crown.

I let out a high pitched squeak and the tears start on their own. I can feel them flowing down my face, one right after the other with no promise of stopping. I could hear the laughter of my peers around me but I can't be bothered to care right now as I watch my treasure being destroyed right in front of me. I felt so powerless. My knees start to shake and I slowly drop down onto the ground, imagining how dramatic and ridiculous I must look. I brought my palms to my face in an attempt to put the tears at bay but they weren't showing any signs of slowing. I stare blankly at the space of grass in front of me where the lavender petals are falling one by one. I look up at Chad and see him throwing my crown at me through my now blurry vision clouded with tears. I surge forward and catch it in my hand but there isn't much left to hold now. All the flowers have been torn off, only leaving behind the wire band. He turns to his friends that have been watching with big smiles behind him, and give them some fist bumps to celebrate what he did. I am way past the crying stage at this point as I slowly lift myself back to my feet. I sulk and turn around to start to walk away. All I want to do is go home and cry until I fall asleep. I sniff my nose and wipe at my eyes, clearing my vision up a tad. Wait, no. What am I doing? He shouldn't be able to get away with this so easily! I have never felt this angry about something before but he crossed the line so I welcome my emotions and let the rage fuel my next actions. Chad is too busy flirting with the girls by him to see it coming. I stop walking for a moment to take a deep breath and clench my fists. I whip around and run at him, putting all the muscle and force I can behind my fist as it collides with his nose.

“SHIT,” Chad screams out, lifting his hand up to his face. He brings it down and I can see the satisfying red of blood across his finger. I put on a cheeky smirk when he makes eye contact with me. I can feel my hand pulsating as it hangs at my side but I’m trying my best to suppress and ignore it despite the sharp pain until I can look at it later. “YOU LITTLE FUCK,” Chad lashes out in anger at me. Oh no. I fucked up. I freeze just staring at him, not knowing what to do. I feel someone grab my arm and tug me away from everyone.

I look over and a beautiful boy with black fringe like mine and crystal blue eyes is staring back at me with a look of horror but I can see a hint of laughter in his eyes. “Run!” he orders me as I feel his hand slip into my uninjured one. Luckily my feet are working faster than my mind as I start running next to the strange boy. He’s tugging me along behind him since he’s taller and has longer legs than me.

By the time he deems it safe enough to stop running, I’m practically dying. I should really exercise more instead of spending endless hours on the internet. I lean over with my hands on my knees and take a few moments to attempt to get my breath back. I look up at our surroundings and notice that we made it to a park several blocks away from the school.

“Do you have a death wish or something?” the pretty eyed boy says from next to me. I take the time now to look him over. Black skinny jeans, black v-neck top, and leather jacket. I notice some piercings on his face, spider bites under his lips and an eyebrow bar. His fringe is jet black and kind of looks like mine but flipped to the other side. He must have some tattoo sleeves due to some of it peaking out from under his jacket and out of his collar onto his neck.

I’m not going to lie, he was pretty hot.

I must have been starting longer than necessary because he started chuckling. I narrowed my eyes, confused, “What?”

“Like something you see?” he answers confidently. I immediately blush and look away at the ground instead. “Anyways, I’m Phil.”

“Dan,” I supply in response.

“Nice to meet you,”

“You too. By the way, thanks for umm.. saving me or whatever,” I mumble while picking at my sweater sleeves. Why am I always so awkward? Get it together Dan, for goodness sakes.

“It was no problem, really. But back to my original question, do you have a death wish or something?” Phil chuckled.

I let out a laugh thinking about what just happened. “Something like that.”

“Care to fill me in over coffee this weekend?” What? I looked over to Phil to find him staring at me with a completely serious expression. “R-really?” my voice wavered.

“Yea, you seem pretty cool and I’m not going to lie, you're pretty cute too, flower boy” he admitted with confidence. I rolled my eyes at the nickname. Usually it’s coming from Chad and sends me into a mad mood, but I don’t quite mind it now that it’s coming from Phil.

“Sounds good,” I smile. “As long as we can get some ice for my hand first, I think I underestimated how much that was going to hurt.” Phil let out a deep chuckle and rose from his spot on the bench next to me.

“Lead the way.”