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sunnykeysmash · 4 years ago

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A look at: AP BIO S3EP6, “That That That”

So this post is going to be sort of an... in-depth analysis for this episode. I hope people enjoy reading this! It’s a long one, so I apologize in advance. I hope it doesn’t feel rambly.

So the episode opens up with the janitor talking with some rats.

We are treated to a shot from their point of view, as the man talks about the rats’ plead about how they’re “going to change”, and how they say they’re not “going anywhere”. Through this simple quick scene, the episode sets up the entire premise, both on a literal level, with the use of rat poison later on, and on a thematical level, introducing us to what’s going to become, by the end of the episode, Jack’s own point of view. Putting it like this, it’s like already the show is drawing a parallel, making us further empathize with Jack as he slowly starts feeling like a rat stuck in a maze himself.

As we’re introduced to Jack, he talks about preparing a recorded lecture for the University of Wisconsin on trascendentalism.

Jack feels sure that what he wants is to get away from the school he’s in, that he won’t miss anything. He thinks this job is what he wants.

Now, trascendentalism is a philosophical movement that values the importance of subjective intuition, not reached through logic but through imagination. It preaches that people deep down already know what’s right for them, that the individual’s potential is limitless, and that the ego is not your true self. All themes that are slowly woven into the episode as Jack works through his subconscious while high off rat poison to come to the conclusion that he already knew deep down was right, and that he started feeling right at the start when people started questioning him.

As this process begins, he goes to talk to Lynette, his girlfriend. He brings up said lecture that he’s recording, it almost feels like he’s seeking her reassurance.

After that, we see him in the teacher lounge, kind of minding his business.

The scene starts out with the three teachers talking. In the frame, catching my eye immediately, is that fourth empty chair. It underlines that someone’s missing, someone that could be a part of what’s happening.

Eventually we cut back to Jack being in frame, except not really, because he starts out of focus, in the backgroung, listening in to the three teachers, framed like an outsider. This is to show us how he feels in the environment.

Then, as he enters the conversation, he gets into focus.

And we then cut back to the three of them.

There is a purposeful distance felt between the two parties, and it’s one that Jack is establishing by keeping himself to the side. This calls back to the themes of the episode right before this, Mr. Pistachio. They’re inviting him in, there is a place for him, but he feels like he doesn’t belong, he stays distant.

As the girls start talking to each other again, Jack is once again kept out of focus, but still clearly in the middle of the shot, which tells us we should still be paying attention to him.

And pay attention to the visual hierarchy, as well. With Jack pushed to the background, he appears small in comparison to the other figures who are big and overpowering. The full body shot, as he resists getting closer to them, almost feels revealing. Emotionally, what this communicates to us, to me personally, is a deep sense of vulnerability that Jack is feeling.

As he subconsciously starts to doubt where he truly wants to be, he feels exposed and out of place.

After this scene, Jack goes to talk to Durbin, and this is where we’re introduced to yet another small subplot that serves to reinforce the themes of the main one at hand.

Durbin is presented with an issue. He wants to tell his brother that he loves him, he has struggled with it in the past, and this is the week he is gaining the courage to do it. This plot will ultimately end up reflecting Jack’s own epiphany, but we’ll get there.

So finally, it’s late evening, school’s empty, and Jack has prepared the set up to record the lecture.

Visually we’re introduced to this duality of Jack on the screen of the ipad versus the real Jack trying to give a lecture. The perfect competent appearance that actually masks his doubts and hesitation.

Screens being often used in media to show something perfect, fake and unachievable, and this is no exception.

Jack starts its lecture:

“To achieve its perfect form, a caterpillar must withdraw and complete itself alone, in its cocoon. Likewise, for us to achieve spiritual perfection, in the view of trascendentalists like Henry David Thoreau, it is necessary to retreat from the mindless and negative influences of society.”

This ends up being exactly what Jack does, as the rat poison induced trip lasts him an entire week, stuck alone in school, with nothing but his delusional and hallucinatory thoughts, he is forced to confront himself in complete solitude to come to the conclusion that was inside him.

He then commits a mistake, right at the end, calling Henry David Thoreau “Justin Thoreau”, the same way Mary, the teacher, did before. In a way, the school and the people in it are rubbing off on him, their presence in his mind manifests through this lapsus, effectively keeping him from completing the lecture correctly. Keeping him here.

He starts stumbling. He starts doubting himself.

“Is that right?”

He asks, the question resonating bigger than just about his current speech, feeling more like about his path in life and his actions.

A shot quickly zooms in on the camera lens, the frantic pace communicating anxiousness, but this shot in particular serves to fully immerse us in Jack’s shoes.

Feeling watched, feeling judged, scrutinized. Having to directly face his shortcomings, unable to blame anyone but himself, and having to ask himself why. The camera almost literally backing us - therefore, Jack - into a corner by coming this uncomfortably close to us.

He attempts to hype himself up and tries again. The whole thing accompanied by a background music that’s basically nothing if not ticking (like a clock) and percussion. It feels quiet and tense.

We then get another shot that’s a clean transition from the screen to the real Jack. In the screen, he appears confident, but as soon as the camera focuses on the real Jack, he loses tracks of what he was saying and once again struggles. Quietly, he turns to look at the background.

He slowly, tentatively reorganizes a single book, then positions himself back, only to turn again towards the bookshelf, still dissatisfied.

Without a single line of dialogue, this shows us precisely what he’s feeling and lets us understand his slow descent into madness. He feels that there’s something wrong, out of place, something that must not be right, but he’s not yet looking at himself to fix this problem, instead he’s looking at his surroundings, trying to gather back the control that he feels he’s rapidly losing by attempting to control what’s around him.

And so he deeply cleans the entire office, reorganizes and color codes the books behind him.

Being introduced to his struggle before the rat poison even starts to affect him lets the transition between reality and hallucination feel seamless, so much so that during a first viewing we start to doubt what’s real and what’s fake, and when.

The overall eerie tone of the episode makes it feel like a take on psychological horror, as the slow loss of control is accentuated by increasingly bizarre events that go completely unquestioned.

Attempt after attempt, we feel as though we are entering a loop with no chance of escaping. Which is exactly what Jack feels.

We then get this.

Jack is fixating on his issue, without much success in resolving it. He’s facing and confronting it over and over. Visually, it’s made bigger than himself by its oppressive presence in the frame.

The only soundtrack accompanying this is a kind of vibration, a deep and hard to hear sound that just looms in the background. This episode in general is very quiet, which helps the atmosphere feel lonely and tense.

He screams, but there��s no one who can hear him. It’s just himself.

He sees this mouse pad and once again the picture visually reinforces this sense of looping, of feeling stuck and trapped in a repeating endless cycle.

He tries to rip it in half. But he can’t.

Just as he can’t overcome what he’s struggling with, his own cycle that he’s stuck in. He wants to break free, but he’s not sure from what. Is his prison this school he says he hates so much, or is his prison his own ego, trapping him into feeling like an outcast, into isolation, into never opening up or being vulnerable.

This is actually a theme in the entire season, Jack slowly learning to open up and be vulnerable. But this episode in particular feels like a turning point for his character, a moment of realization, of personal intuition. Trascendence. Beyond his limits, beyond his own walls. Through a trascendent experience, the hallucinations.

He falls asleep on the floor, visually representing his rock bottom.

He’s then woken up, there’s faint wind chimes sounds, and he’s surrounded by darkness in a way that feels ethereal. As he exits the room to check the source of the smell that’s almost calling to him, we see nothing but him entering light.

He’s barely visible, surrounded by fog, he can’t see where he’s going very well.

He sees a figure, and asks this:

“Are you in a caterpillar costume?”

When the figure turns to face him, Jack is frightened and runs away.

This immediate association between the very subject he was talking about, and him fleeing in terror, serves to illustrate his true feelings towards what he’s doing by recording this lecture. He’s scared of it, and he’s running away from it.

He wakes up again in the same room as he was before, only this time the light is almost blinding.

Here, Helen appears. This dialogue follows:

Jack: “Jesus, Helen, what are you doing here?” Helen: “Oh, you know I can’t stay away from Whitlock long.”

We quickly find out that this is a dream sequence that Jack is having. Thanks to this knowledge, we know that all the dialogue Jack entertains with the rest of the school workers, all his friends, is nothing more than his internal dialogue manifesting to him through them.

He’s asking himself why he’s at this highschool. The other voice, Helen, replies that it’s because they can’t stay away. They like being here.

But this realization comes with horror and shock to Jack, and so it quickly turns into a graphic, horrid description.

He once again escapes it, going immediately to try recording his lecture again, but Helen bursts into the room kicking the door. All these terrifying thoughts are tormenting him.

He runs away, camera in his hands. Gets interrupted once again.

In this attempt, we are completely unable to see him through the screen because of how out of focus he is to us in there. His attempt at a perfect facade is proving completely infructuous, all we can see is the real Jack, deeply struggling.

He gets interrupted by the three teachers again, and this dialogue happens.

Michelle: “Jack, you’re here! We thought that that video would be done by now.” Jack: “Uh, yeah, unfortunately... it’s not.”

Once again doubt seeps in as he worries about what’s taking him so long, it’s also interesting to notice how the girls use “that that” with no problem whatsoever.

They invite him to join them in playing a game, and he finds himself going along with them at first, before stopping himself, panicked.

Jack: “I don’t have time for your dumb, fun games! I gotta do this video!”

This dialogue sets an intense contrast with the scene with them at the start, in reality.

In that scene, he calls their games “terrible”, then looks at them with fondness.

Here, instead, he’s stressing that he doesn’t have time for it. He wants to participate, as is shown, but he can’t because of his own self imposed obligation.

In other words, this is exposing to him, though still through an horror lense, his realization that he’s gonna miss all these chances to hang out with his friends if he goes through with it.

He keeps running away, and ends up in his class.

His reflection in the screen appears now deeply warped.

The writing on the whiteboard is upside down, something is deeply wrong.

He’s alone, then all of a sudden he’s not, as the camera twists to the side and gets closer.

We are treated to some dutch angles.

He tries again, but the words aren’t even his. He asks if he sounds like Marcus, and the students all nod while creaking sounds can be heard as they do.

Day 2. He’s still eating the same spaghetti as before, and he accidentally gets sauce on his shirt. A stain that just won’t go away. A visible imperfection. He snaps, he covers himself in them, then puts on some makeup powder, helplessly trying to cover it all up. Of course, that does nothing. He’s trying to bury a problem that has become impossible to conceal.

Getting in front of the camera again, he says this:

Jack: “I want this job. I’m so overqualified.”

It’s like he’s trying to convince himself, since he’s not really talking to anyone but a camera lens. Then there’s the part about being overqualified. The thing is, he’s right, and he know he’s right. On a qualification and competence standpoint, he should be able to ace this, no problem. So why is he struggling? Does he want this job?

In comes Durbin.

Durbin: “Jack! ...you’re still here. Working on your video.” Jack: “Yeah uh- but everybody keeps stopping me...” Durbin: “Let’s get you back on the right track. What’s the problem?” Jack: “I got sketty on my shirt...” Durbin: “I’ve got what you need right here. Everything you need is always right in front of you, Jack. Always check the lost and found.”

Lots to unpack here. Everytime Jack encounters someone again, they always comment on how he’s still at school, he hasn’t left. He keeps getting stopped, his subconscious keeps stopping him, since we know this is all a hallucination. He’s going down the wrong path, and Durbin in this situation represents what’s right for Jack, the truth in his subconscious. “Everything you need is in front of you”.

Additionally, the way he explains the problem, speaking like a sad child, makes you feel just how lost he is, just how small he feels. Him feeling small, lost, vulnerable and scared is a huge theme in the entire episode, as you can see.

So he tries again, and this is where we first experience the transition. As Jack is enthusiastic to put on the suit Durbin gives him, we then see that his appearance in the screen is quite different. He looks ridiculous. But in his reality, as his real self, he looks spotless, happy. This is him starting to accept the concept that what he needed was always in front of him. Because whereas the screen just shows us what he wants to present himself as, his facade, the real him shows us his true feelings, how he feels towards this highschool and all his friends and the life he lives here.

By accepting his life as it is, his job at Whitlock, he knows he might end up looking ridiculous and his image may suffer, but inside he feels better, he feels good, happy, realized.

The expression he makes as he sees this suit, is the expression of a man that has found what he was looking for. This is why it emerging from a “lost ad found” box is very significant symbolically.

It’s not just himself that changes inbetween “reality” and “screen”, however, it’s the entire location. His background, everything.

He finally finishes his speech, successfully this time. But Helen comes to take the camera and tripod away.

Jack accuses her of “sabotaging him”, but we as the audience will soon come to realize that he’s sabotaging himself.

He runs after her, and as he does, the lights around him start malfunctioning once again.

He opens a door and sees his mother with a young Durbin. He’s understandably unsettled. His mom having always been something close to his heart, we can even see her as a representation of his most intense emotions and of love. He’s struggling to fully come to terms with admitting that he loves being at this school.

He gets away, only to come closer once again once he hears more noises. He opens the door.

He gets in, softly asks for his ipad, and as he walks closer we get an overview of what’s happening. Jack, on his desk, being dissected by his students, completely torn open.

Once again, this visual serves to show Jack’s sense of uncomfortableness with being open and totally vulnerable.

He’s being scrutinized and studied and analyzed all the way to his deepest insides. It’s scary, it’s uncomfortable and it hurts. “I think I found the heart.” “Girl, that’s his bladder.”, he’s being judged mercilessly. That’s how he feels.

“How would we know? We never learned biology.

There’s a sense of guilt for never doing what he should’ve from the very beginning. He regrets not being there for his students, teaching, he’s scared that he’ll never get the chance now that he knows he wants to. This is manifesting though Sarika.

Jack: “I have to go... why are you keeping me from leaving?” Marcus: “We’re not keeping you from anything, Mr Griffin. You’re doing all of this. Your mind has created an entire world of distractions to keep you from doing that video.” Dan: “You know, it’s almost like you don’t want to leave.” Jack: “Yes I do? ...I think I do...”

In this moment, his most open one, he’s finally confronted with his desire to stay.

And this is when he wakes up.

Now back in reality, his appearance in fact resembles the way he looked like in the screen in his mind. So to reiterate, the real him in his mind was simply how he felt, while the screen was the way people see Jack in real life. At this point in the episode, subconsciously, he has come to fully accept it.

He does try to fix up the room, but it’s too much of a mess by now.

We cut to all of his friends discussing together. In comes Helen, with her nose bandage, and she says this.

Helen: “Oh, I’m so glad to see you guys!” Mary: “Helen, what happened?” Helen: “Well, I’m starting to think that the relationship I have with that animal is not what I thought it was.”

This dialogue is meant to reflect Jack’s situation, as do all the subplots in the episode.

The dialogue continues when Helen asks Durbin how it went with his brother.

Helen: “Did you tell your brother that you loved him?” Durbin: “Oh, well, I... kinda sorta chocked on saying that exact phrase, so...” Michelle: “That’s okay Ralph, it’s hard to be vulnerable.” Stef: “Yeah, and you have to respect the fact that he may not be there yet.” Durbin: “Yeah, I just feel kinda bad because a bunch of times he said “I love you” and I said “Yeah, good good good good good”...” Helen: “Well I’m sure he knows how you feel.” Durbin: “Well, at one point he said “Do you love me? Because I can’t tell.” and I said “I don’t know” and I got into a lift and went to the airport, just full choke.”

This all reflects Jack’s own feelings. He’s not quite at a point where he can openly admit to loving his friends and Whitlock, but at the same time this dialogue shows us that they are understanding of it, they know that being vulnerable and open can be very hard, and they’re patient. They do know that Jack loves them.

Enter Dave, in a wheelchair, injured from head to toe.

Dave: “You know who else choked? Maybe the hardest of all?” Everyone: “JACK!!!”

Enters Jack. Everyone cheers his arrival.

Of course, the dialogue just quoted is a joking way to point out how Jack failed in making that recorded lecture.

He shares a cute moment with his girlfriend, and softly says:

Jack: “You were thinking about me...”

It’s like it comes as a surprise to him, that he’s loved, that other people genuinely like him and want him to stay.

He continues.

Jack: “Um, hey, I should talk to you about something. Uh, in fact, I actually have to tell all of you about something important that I realized while you were gone. I realized that-”

He’s interrupted but the janitor which he had previously punched. The guy who was doing the rat disinfestation.

In other words, he chokes, as well.

Mary: “So Jack, what did you learn?” Jack: “Uh... well, I, uh... I invented a new game.”

Instead he chooses to bring that game he hallucinated into reality, making time for it. Being enthusiastic for it.

He enters his classroom.

Jack: “Alright, everybody, shut your precious beautiful mouths. You know after spending an entire week alone in this empty school... I realized that I can’t survive without community. And I came to appreciate... all of you.”

This reflects the trascendalistic philosophical approach of Thoreau, who retreated alone in nature to find true purpose in life.

He goes to write on the whiteboard.

All his previous writing wiped but still visible. He did do all of that, but it’s gone now, it’s no longer present. It’s solved.

Jack: “And I decided that I wanted each of you to finish this year knowing more biology than any student ever has...” Sarika: “Mr Griffin? I know we’ve had our differences in the past...” Jack: “Uh, yeah, hold that thought, Sarika, because the biggest thing that I learned is that prolonged exposure to rodent killing gas causes hallucinations and irrational ideation. And all these things that I thought I learned? Well... chemically induced illusions... caused by a dying brain”

He draws an X on top of the words “community”, “you” and “biology”.

Jack: But! Now... I got my thinker back in the pink. Everything’s back to normal...”

He takes out a bunch of spaghetti and a box of rat poison, sprinkles them heavily with it, and takes a bite like it’s the most normal thing.

So what does it mean, is he rejecting all that he learned? No. He’s keeping up his facade, as being vulnerable is hard, but inside he’s embracing what he learned. This is communicated to us through him ingesting the poisoned spaghetti, going back into his mind, accepting the embarassment and weirdness and going back to that scary feeling of vulnerability for more. He might say that it’s all back to normal, but we clearly see it’s not, and we clearly know that he’s glad to be back and stay back, we see it through his actions.

Ultimately this is a sort of turning point for Jack Griffin, while he might not yet be able to express his feelings, while still going back to a place of denial using the rat poison as the excuse for everything that happened in his brain, this is his first step towards accepting what his subconscious has known all along, his first step to “trascend from a caterpillar into a butterfly”.

This is... trascendentalism, as construed by AP Bio.

#ap bio #glenn howerton #jack griffin #analysis #that that that #ap bio season 3 #ap bio season 3 episode 6 #yall i cannot believe i just wrote 16 pages of analysis in a single sitting from 3am to 8am #i am literally insane i think #but i hope whoever reads this takes something out of it #glenn howerton if you are reading this i love you buddy youre very talented but please make macdennis canon or i will have to unstan #just kidding im not going anywhere but please bud #does this count as a review #or is this just the ramblings of a crazy person.............#I think I'm right personally #at least somewhat #jack griffin bisexual legend #ok im done i think #when u follow a sunny account for sunny content and then BOOM 16 pages of ap bio analysis #that relatable moment when..........#dont yell at me i know im a mad person but i HAD TO OK

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ottelis · 5 years ago

Photo

"I gave you my life, Eliott," Lucas's voice shatters, splinters.

Eliott replies softly, broken, hollow, "And I gave you mine."

"No," Lucas says, low and dark. "No, you didn't."

aka: eliott and lucas grow up together, but are separated when eliott is institutionalized in paris after a severe depressive episode. they reunite two years later when eliott is released, but everything has already changed before their eyes.

epigraph. i. ii. iii.

tw: discussions of suicide attempts, death, manic and depressive episodes, and uses of the q slur

july 4th, 1968

10:28

caen, france

Eliott wishes his mother was here to hold his hand. He isn't sure why he needs her here so much right now. He spent almost two years at the institution without her, where everything around him was blinding white and the air was cold and stale. Here, in a room at the psychiatric clinic, the floors are carpeted, the walls are painted a warm, beige color, and there are flowers on the tables, paintings on the walls; the small couch he's sitting on is comfortable, new. Maybe it's because he knows his mother could be here—she's just down the street, browsing through books at the library—but he told her he would be okay by himself. Maybe he could tell someone he just needs to go get her really quickly then he'll be back for his appointment. It would just be a minute or two. He would be back before they knew it—

There's a knock at the door, then it opens. Eliott jumps, but tries to calm himself down as the doctor enters the room. He's a tall, slim man around his mother's age. His hair is graying in flecks throughout, and his short, well-kept beard is almost completely gray. He's wearing a white button-up shirt and gray slacks, and a plain red tie. He smiles kindly at Eliott, walking over to him and holding out his hand.

"Eliott Demaury, yes?" he asks, maintaining his smile.

Eliott smiles back weakly, shaking the doctor's outstretched hand. "Yes, sir."

"My name is Dr. Garnier," he replies, taking a seat in the chair across from Eliott. "How about we start with any questions or concerns you want to tell me about. Okay?"

Eliott nods. "Okay," he considers, a long list already rolling around in his brain. Maybe he should start with the question he's most worried about the answer to. He takes a deep breath, wringing his hands. "Do you give people shocks here?"

Dr. Garnier seemed a little puzzled by the question, but recovered with his kind smile. "The latest guidance is that we should start straying away from that sort of therapy. But, if it's necessary, we usually sedate patients before we give them any sort of electric stimulation. If you don't mind me asking, did they give you electroconvulsive therapy often at the institution in Paris?"

Eliott bites his lip, then nods. "Whenever I got really bad they gave me shocks."

"And you have manic depressive disorder, correct?" Dr. Garnier asks. When Eliott nods, he continues. "Well, Eliott, usually we give someone shocks when medication or other therapies don't work. It's, in most cases, a last resort. Did they try to help you in any other way besides the shocks?"

Eliott feels anxiety creeping into his system, making his stomach turn and his head spin. "I was on a few medications, but they never worked. They started giving me lithium not too long before I left, and I think it works enough."

"How long have you been home, Eliott?" Dr. Garnier asks, looking up from his notes.

"A week and a half, maybe?" Eliott answers. "The days have all been blurring together. I always have to ask my maman what day it is, what time it is."

"So you're having trouble readjusting?"

Eliott nods. "It's been really difficult. Caen has changed so much, and my maman changed some things around our old house, and everything was just so different. And the day I got home, I went to go visit my... uh, my best friend and surprise him, but..."

Eliott's mouth goes dry, and a lump forms in his throat.

"But...?" Dr. Garnier urges kindly, listening carefully to Eliott's every word.

"He was angry with me," Eliott admits, his voice breaking. "Really angry."

"Your best friend was?" Dr. Garnier says, even more puzzled. "Do you know why he was angry?"

Eliott nods. He doesn't want to say it. He could never say the words out loud to anyone, let alone himself. He feels a tear roll down his cheek. He wipes it away quickly, sniffling. He nods again, and hopes Dr. Garnier wouldn't ask anymore questions about it.

"Why was he angry?" Dr. Garnier asks again.

Eliott runs his fingers along his bottom lip, trying to think of an answer. An answer that skirted around the real reason. "Some... Something that happened. Right before I was sent to the institution."

Eliott hears papers rustling. He looks up and sees Dr. Garnier searching for something in a small folder. He finds the page he's looking for, his eyes scanning it quickly. He sighs.

"It says here that the reason you were admitted to the institution due to a suicide attempt," he says quietly. "Is that why your friend was angry?"

Eliott nods. More tears are falling from his eyes, and it's getting harder for him to hold them back. The words suicide attempt rattle loudly in his mind, drowning out all his other thoughts.

"You seem to care about your friend a lot, Eliott," Dr. Garnier observes. "Did he give you a chance to explain yourself, or explain what happened the night of your attempt?"

Eliott shakes his head. "I don't think I could have if he did give me a chance, either. I can't talk about what happened that night, or really anything that happened before. It's too hard. It hurts too much."

"These are very traumatic events, Eliott. It's okay if they're difficult to talk about," Dr. Garnier says.

"It's been two years," Eliott breathes, shutting his eyes. "Two years is a long time. Time enough to get over it, right?"

"Not necessarily," Dr. Garnier replies. "There are things we simply can't forget. It's okay if you're still grieving, Eliott. Do you understand?"

Eliott nods, sniffling. "I understand."

"When you got to the institution," Dr. Garnier begins. "Were the doctors and nurses aware of the circumstances that caused you to be institutionalized?"

Eliott nods. "My maman told them everything."

"Were any of your treatments meant to help you process those traumas? Were they ever addressed?"

Eliott shakes his head. "I don't think so."

Dr. Garnier sighs. "They should have been a long time ago. I deeply apologize that that wasn't done when it should have been. I want to start working on that with you, Eliott. Okay?"

Eliott takes a deep, shaky breath. "Okay."

"I know it's hard," Dr. Garnier begins. "But can you tell me what happened leading up to your institutionalization? You don't have to give me any details you're not comfortable sharing. Okay?"

Eliott nods, trying to collect himself. "One time, around Christmas, I realized I was feeling more energetic than usual. The day after Christmas, I was in my room all day sketching in the new sketchpad my parents got me. I think I wrote some sort of comic book. But I didn't think anything of it when it was happening. My whole life I've had these strange, random bursts of energy. Then, around mid-January I started to get depressed, but I just figured it was because it was winter. My maman gets sad during winter sometimes, so I just thought I was like her. Things went back to normal beginning of February, but I was still kinda fluctuating. But then..." Eliott's words were stuck in his throat, but he breathed slowly, and let the words stumble out of his mouth. "As long as I can remember, my papa would get sick really easily. Maman said he was badly injured in the war and his health was never the same after that. But that May, he got really sick. It was different this time. We could tell. We took him to the hospital, and we always stayed in his room with him. We would sleep there every night just in case something happened, and one morning I woke up and... He was dead."

"My condolences," Dr. Garnier replies quietly.

"I became so depressed I barely had the strength to breathe. But I had my maman, and Lucas, and all our other friends."

"Is Lucas your best friend?" Dr. Garnier replies.

Eliott nods. "A little over a month after Papa died, I started getting excited again. In the back of my mind, I knew I shouldn't be reacting this way, but I was so happy. I ran all over the place with Lucas, and around sunset we went down to the beach. The water was calm, and then there was this wave and it crashed over Lucas and pulled him under. I was able to pull him out, but when I got him to shore, he wasn't breathing. He was dead for about ten minutes, but I was able to revive him. I can't imagine what would've happened if I wasn't able to save him. And after that... It was unlike anything I'd ever felt before. All these... emotions were clashing within me. It was like I was walking in a minefield. I went through this for a day or two. Then, that night, I reorganized my bookshelf four or five times by color and title and author's name and height, then the next moment I started crying and I couldn't stop. I realized I couldn't take it anymore. So, I..." Eliott didn't want to finish his sentence, and he didn't have to.

"That's quite the weight to carry, Eliott," Dr. Garnier says, setting his notes aside. "And Lucas is angry with you, too? Have you tried to reach out to him? Will he talk to you?"

Eliott shrugs. "I haven't tried to, but I don't think he'd be willing to talk to me. He made himself pretty clear the last time we talked."

"How long have you known Lucas, Eliott?"

"We've known each other since we were babies. I'm only a couple of weeks older than him. We've spent our whole lives together. Literally. I can't imagine living a life without him, and suddenly I am. He's moving on. He's engaged. He'll be going off to medical school in Paris. He's gonna leave me behind."

"Eliott," Dr. Garnier says, looking Eliott straight in the eye. "You owe it to yourself and to Lucas to try and fix whatever's happening between you two. I can see how much you care about him. He must feel the same way, right?"

Eliott shakes his head. "He won't listen. He's stubborn as a mule. I told my maman, he's had two years to make up his mind about me and what happened that night. He hates me, and his mind is made about that. It's not going to change, and it shouldn't. I abandoned him. All I would've left behind if he hadn't stopped me that night is a letter."

"Lucas is the one who stopped you?" Dr. Garnier asks.

"He was," Eliott replies. "I was... I was about to walk out into the water but he called my name and ran to me and he just held me. He was there. And then I had to leave, and when I came back, he wasn't there anymore. Not for me, anyway."

"Does he know about your diagnosis? What your diagnosis means as far as how it affects you and your relationship with him?"

Eliott sighs, shrugging. "I'm sure my maman told him when they told her my diagnosis. I don't know if he knows anything specific, really."

Dr. Garnier thinks for a moment, then asks, "Do you think your mother could get through to him?"

Eliott thinks, too, imagining the scenario play out in his head. "Maybe. She always calls him her second son."

"She knows about the situation between you two?"

"She was the first person I went to after I tried to talk to him," Eliott nods. "She knows almost everything about me."

Dr. Garnier smiles. "I'm glad you're so close to her, Eliott. Were you close with your father as well?"

Eliott smiles sadly, nodding. "We were a happy, tight-knit family. Maman and I miss him a lot."

"He seems like he was a good man," Dr. Garnier replies.

"He was," Eliott agrees. "He was the best man in the world, I think."

"You've been through so much, Eliott," Dr. Garnier says, his smile even kinder. "But I can tell you have so much strength in you yet. You have your whole life ahead of you, boy. Make it the best it can be. Okay?"

Eliott smiles back, nodding. "Okay."

"Good," Dr. Garnier replies, patting Eliott softly on the shoulder. "Unless you have any more questions or concerns, Eliott, you're free to leave. Though, I would like to ask your mother a few questions. Is she in the lobby?"

"She went down to the library, but I can go and tell her you want to talk to her."

Dr. Garnier nods. "If you would, please. It'll just be for a few minutes."

Eliott nods, rising from his seat. Dr. Garnier stands up, too, holding out his hand. Eliott shakes his hand, giving him a shy smile.

"If something happens, or if you need us for any reason at all, don't hesitate to call us and let us you know you need to come in," Dr. Garnier tells him. "We'll be here for you, Eliott."

"Thank you, Doctor," Eliott replies, smiling wider. "Maybe next time I'll have some good news about Lucas."

"I hope so," Dr. Garnier returns genuinely. "I can really tell how much you care about him. Don't let him go. Okay?"

"I won't," Eliott promises.

"Good," Dr. Garnier grins. "Let me lead you out then I'll talk to your mother."

Eliott nods. "Thank you again, Doctor."

"You're very welcome." he smiles back, opening the door and letting Eliott step out. He walks down the hallway and enters the lobby, where the receptionist thanks him for coming and tells him to have a good day. He smiles at her, thanking her, and goes out through the front, glass doors.

It's cooler than usual outside, but still pleasantly warm. The sun is shining, with a few pure white, fluffy clouds sailing across the sky. He can still smell all the salt in the air, just barely hear the waves crashing on the shore. He exhales, feeling lighter.

He starts walking down the street, heading to the library. He can see it, just in the distance. It's an older building that somehow managed to survive all the bombings during the war. But, like the church, it has its scars, burns on the outside. It's still a beautiful building, rich and warm with history and every imaginable string of words language can offer. Eliott pauses for a moment when he reaches the entrance, tilting his head back to look up at the top of the building. He remembers how tall it looked when he was younger, and seeing how much shorter it seems now makes Eliott pause a moment longer than he intended to. He shakes his head, opening the door and entering the library.

Eliott's mother was checking out a small pile of books at the front desk. She grins when she notices him walking up to her, giving him one of her tight, comforting hugs.

"How was it, honey?" she asks, warmth and pride in her voice.

"Good," he replies. "But Dr. Garnier wanted to ask you a couple of questions for a couple minutes if that's okay."

"Of course," she replies. The librarian hands her books and she thanks her kindly. "Do you want to look at some books while I do that?"

Eliott shakes a head. "I still have to read all the ones you gave me for my birthday. I'll just wait in the lobby."

"Okay," she nods, putting her books in her bag. "Let's go, then."

They're quiet for a moment as they leave, but she starts asking Eliott questions once they start walking back up to the office.

"Is the doctor nice?"

"He is," Eliott answers. "He's very understanding. Very kind."

"I'm glad," she smiles. "What did you two talk about?"

"He asked me when I first started showing symptoms," he begins. "So I told him about the Christmas before Papa died. And when Papa died and when Lucas drowned and... everything else after that."

His mother looks over at him, an emotion he can't quite distinguish on her face. "Was it hard to talk about?"

Eliott bites his lip, nodding. "It was. But he helped me through it. He gave me advice and everything."

"I'm proud of you, honey," she tells him, tearful. "I know you don't like to talk about all that."

"Thank you, Maman," Eliott smiles, getting tearful, too. "It gets a little easier every time."

They reach the office, and Eliott opens the door for his mother. Dr. Garnier is standing by the front desk, writing something down on his clipboard. He looks up and smiles when he sees them. He sets his clipboard down and approaches them, his hand outstretched towards Eliott's mother.

"I'm Dr. Pierre Garnier," he introduces, shaking her hand. "And you're Eliott's mother, yes?"

"Yes, sir," she replies, smiling back. "Noémie."

"Noémie," Dr. Garnier repeats. "Well, thank you so much for giving me a couple of minutes of your time. I just need to ask a couple of questions about Eliott. Would you like to come back with us, Eliott?"

Eliott shakes his head. "No, it's okay. I can wait here."

"Are you sure, honey?" his mother asks. "I don't mind if you're in there with us."

Eliott smiles, nodding. "I'm sure, Maman."

"Okay," she replies, smiling back. "We won't be long."

Dr. Garnier smiles at Eliott, too, then leads his mother down the hallway.

july 4th, 1968

11:21

caen, france

Eliott sighs, sitting down in one of the chairs. There's a table next to him, one with a vase full of flowers sitting on top of it. They're fresh, the petals soft and almost dewy. They're irises, Eliott thinks, with their droopy petals with a dot of yellow in the middle. He smiles again, leaning in to breathe in their sweet, fragrant scent. He wonders what his time at the institution could've been like if it was anything like this. No shocks, no itchy, stiff clothes, no echoes of desperate screams ricocheting off the walls. Instead, there could have been flowers, space to breathe, kind smiles, time to think and cope. Would he have been away for so long? Would he have been away from home, from his maman, from Lucas for two years? Would Lucas have been less mad when he came back home? Would any of Lucas's love been left, enough to make Eliott smile and his heart sing and and the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end?

He sighs again, looking up from the flowers. Through the glass, he can see a couple walking by holding hands. He sees the woman first, and she looks vaguely familiar. She has a round face and high cheekbones, and she's wearing a wide smile. Eliott thinks she's laughing. But the man reveals his face as he looks over at her, and Eliott's heart nearly stops. The eyes, the smile...

Lucas.

Their eyes meet, and suddenly Eliott's heart has started beating again, stuttering and stumbling over itself. Lucas seems just as overwhelmed, his mouth dropping open and blinking as if he needed to clear his vision. The girl, Chloé, turns, too, but she smiles and waves when she sees Eliott. He manages a smile for her, waving back.

Go to him, Eliott's heart tells him, its voice clear through his stuttering heartbeat.

He pauses for a moment, but his mind takes over and he stands up, jogging out the door to reach Lucas and Chloé. He stops in front of them, widening his smile.

"Salut," he greets politely.

"Salut!" Chloé returns cheerfully.

"Salut," Lucas returns quietly.

"What's this place?" Chloé asks, looking up at the sign.

"It's a psychiatric office," Eliott answers. "I'm just here for a... check-up, I guess."

"Oh," Chloé smiles, almost fake. "I never knew what this was. But how are you feeling, Eliott? Lucas told me you haven't been feeling very well and that's why he hasn't been able to go visit you."

Eliott feels a shallow, echoing pang in his chest. He immediately, desperately looks at Lucas, but his eyes are trained on the ground. Eliott tries to recover, smiling again and looking back at Chloé. "Oh, yes. I'm doing a lot better now. Just needed some time to readjust, I think."

Chloé's eyes widen as she grins. "Oh, that's great to hear! Maybe you'll be well enough to come to Lucas's birthday party next week! We would've invited you right away, but Lucas was worried you may not be feeling well still by the time we have the party. What do you think, Lucas?"

Lucas perks up, his eyes darting between Eliott and Chloé. He must've spaced out a bit. Eliott can see the traces of daydream, fantasy fogging up Lucas's eyes. He smiles a little, nodding. "If Eliott thinks he's well, of course he can come." He looks at Eliott again, his eyes cleared up, but there's a sadness in them, a darkness lurking in the depths.

"Eliott, you have to come!" Chloé cuts in, so enthusiastic she's almost bouncing. "It'll be so fun for you and Lucas to celebrate together! Especially since he missed your party. I'm still mad at him for not telling me about that, you know. We could've rescheduled our little lunch date."

"It's okay," Eliott lies. "You're his fiancée. You should come first, right?"

Eliott risks another glance at Lucas, but he's zoned out again. He's staring at his hand, the one that's holding Chloé's. He's frowning, his eyebrows knit. Eliott is sure Lucas can't hear a word him and Chloé are saying. He bites his lip, turning his attention back to Chloé.

"I suppose," Chloé replies. "But you've known him since you two were so little. I can't compare to that."

Eliott sighs, shrugging.

"No, really, Eliott," Chloé says, more serious. "Let us make it up to you. Come to Lucas's party."

He takes another deep breath, finally nodding. "Okay. I'll come."

"Perfect!" Chloé beams. "It's a week from today at Lucas's at 7. And if you can't get him a gift, don't worry about it. Just having you there will be gift enough, I'm sure." She looks over at Lucas, realizing he's spacey. She shakes his shoulder gently, looking at him with a hint of concern. He raises his eyebrows, but quickly recovers. He smiles again and nods.

"Of course," he says, pulling her close and kissing her quickly on the lips. "We'd better be on our way, right, mon amour?"

Eliott feels another pang in his chest, but it's deeper, sharper. A lifetime ago, Lucas had such a way of piercing Eliott with deep, bleeding cuts that never seemed to hurt. In this new life, this new body, everything suddenly hurts so terribly Eliott feels like he could die. Where did the blissful hurt go? Where's the tug of Lucas's gaze, the sting of his smile? Where did Lucas go? Where did Eliott go?

"We should," Chloé says. "We'll see you at the party, Eliott!" She kisses either side of his face, waving goodbye as she takes Lucas's hand again.

Lucas waves goodbye, too, but it's small, timid. That sadness is still in his eyes, but it's wider, deeper.

Eliott watches them as they walk away, the pangs in his chest throbbing.

"Turn around, mon amour," Eliott whispers, just barely louder than his breathing.

Lucas and Chloé are halfway down the hill when Lucas finally looks over his shoulder. Eliott feels that familiar tug, and it hurts blissfully, like it used to.

The throbbing eases.

january 3rd, 1956

11:56

caen, france

Eliott watches his father sitting in their car, worry making his little stomach turn. All last week, his father has had a horrible cough and a horrible fever. His mother had to convince him to let her take him to the hospital so they could know what was wrong. Yesterday, his father finally agreed, and they finally sat Eliott down and told him he'll need to stay at Lucas's for a little awhile, just until his father gets better. Normally, he would be bouncing off the walls knowing he'd get to spend the night with Lucas, but now he was just scared and sad for his papa.

"Thank you so much for watching Eliott for us, Madeleine," he hears his mother say. He looks over and sees her handing Lucas's mother a suitcase with all his stuff in it. In a worried rush, she continues,"There's a few days' worth of clothes in there, and his toothbrush and all his favorite books and toys. I'll call every night and let you know if anything happens. And I'll talk to Eliott, too. Hopefully that'll make him feel better. If he ever gets really upset, Eduard and I just hug him and rub his back until he calms down. That usually works."

"Breathe, Noémie," Madame Lallemant says, setting the suitcase aside and putting her hands on Eliott's mother's shoulders. "We'll take good care of your boy. We promise. Just take Eduard to the hospital and help him get better. Is it pneumonia again?"

Eliott's mother nods, tears welling in her eyes. "I think so."

"He's beaten it before," Madame Lallemant reasons, trying to soothe her. "He'll beat it this time, too."

She sighs, looking up at the sky for a moment. She shakes her head. "What if he doesn't?"

Eliott feels his eyes becoming wet, too. He sniffles, running up to her and throwing his arms around her legs, hugging her as best he can. Her clothes are soft, and she smells warm, and it makes Eliott cry.

"Oh, honey," he hears her choke out. She moves his arms gently away from her so she can kneel in front of him. She holds his face in her hands, wiping away his tears. "Listen to me, okay? I need you to be a good boy for Madame and Monsieur Lallemant. I need you to listen to them if they tell you to do something. And I need you to pray for Papa."

"Will Papa get better, Maman?" he just barely asks through his tears.

She takes a deep breath, nodding. "He'll get better, baby."

"Promise?" Eliott asks.

She bites her lip, but manages a smile. "I promise, Ellie. Now, come here."

She opens her arms, and he throws his around her neck. She hugs him so tightly, he almost can't breathe. She kisses his cheek, his ear, his temple. She rubs his back with small, soothing circles, and his breathing slows and his eyes dry.

"I have to go now, honey," she whispers in his ear.

"Okay," Eliott nods, trying to hold back new tears brimming on his lashline.

"Papa and I will be back as soon as we can," she promises, brushing his hair out of his eyes. "I'll call and talk to you every night until we get back."

"Okay," he says again. "I love you, Maman."

She smiles, a single, small tear rolling down her cheek. "I love you, too, Ellie."

She hugs him again, this time lifting him up so his feet aren't touching the ground. She swings him a bit as he kicks his legs.

"Put me down, Maman!" Eliott giggles.

She puts him down then, her smile wider and more genuine. "I'll see you soon, honey."

"See you soon, Maman," Eliott smiles back.

She kisses his forehead and walks over to the car, where his father sat waiting. He waves at Eliott through the window, trying to smile, but gets into another coughing fit. Eliott's heart sinks, and the car starts driving away.

"Are you okay, Eliott?" Madame Lallemant asks him softly, putting a hand on his shoulder. "Do you wanna have some lunch?"

Eliott shrugs. "My stomach feels funny."

"Do you just want some water, then? Maybe a few slices of apple? Do you think you could eat that?"

Eliott thinks for a moment, then nods. "Thank you, Madame Lallemant."

"You're welcome," she replies, smiling kindly. "Let's go inside, then."

Eliott nods again, following her inside.

"Lucas, buddy, are you almost done cleaning your room?" Madame Lallemant calls. "Eliott's here and I'm about to get lunch ready."

"Coming, Maman!" Lucas responds, his footsteps pattering on the floor as he runs down the stairs. He beams when he sees Eliott, running over to him and giving him a hug.

"Hi, Lucas," Eliott giggles, hugging him back.

"I'm so happy you get to stay here with me," Lucas says, pulling away. "We're gonna have so much fun! Wait, Eliott are you okay? Are you crying?"

Eliott wipes at his cheeks and rubs at his eyes. "I'm just scared for my papa. He's really sick again."

"My maman said he'll be okay," Lucas replies confidently. "So he'll be okay."

Eliott smiles. "My maman said that, too, so yeah. He'll be okay."

"Come sit down at the table, boys," Madame Lallemant tells them. "And Eliott, I have your apple ready for you."

Eliott finds his chair and Madame Lallemant sets a small plate with apple slices on them in front of him. He thanks her, and nibbles on one. He smiles, though. She must've gotten it from the market today. It's sweet and fresh. He takes a slightly bigger bite, and his stomach settles a little.

"How come Eliott gets to eat first?" Lucas asks, pouting a little.

"He said he isn't very hungry, so he just has an apple," Madame Lallemant replies. "But you, my baby boy, are gonna eat as much food as your little stomach can hold, right?"

"I'm not a baby, Maman," Lucas groans, rolling his eyes. "But I do like food."

"No, you're not a baby," she agrees. "But you're my baby boy. Just like Eliott is Madame Demaury's baby boy," Eliott nods at this, finishing off his second apple slice. "And just like when you grow up and marry a nice girl your baby boys will be her baby boys."

"But what if our babies are girls?" Lucas asks.

"Then they'll be your baby girls," Madame Lallemant answers. "Maybe she'll have some baby boys and maybe you'll have some baby girls, too."

Lucas grimaces, shrugging. "Girls are gross."

"But I'm a girl, Lucas," she gasps. "Am I gross?"

"No," Lucas shakes his head. "Because you're my maman. Girls who aren't my maman are gross."

"I don't think girls are gross," Eliott chips in, starting to bite into his third apple slice.

"Good boy, Eliott," Madame Lallemant smiles. "And good job eating your apple slices."

Eliott smiles. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," she returns. "And Lucas, our lunch is ready."

She sets a plate in front of him with roast beef and potatoes, and Lucas grins. He accepts the fork she hands to him, and starts shoveling potatoes in his mouth.

"Slow down, buddy," she reminds him. "Enjoy your food."

He nods, chewing slower.

"Now, boys," she begins. "After lunch, do you want to draw and color for a bit? I bought some new crayons yesterday just for you two."

It's Eliott's turn to grin. He nods enthusiastically, almost hurting his neck a little. "I love drawing!"

She grins back at him. "I know. Your maman told me. But we'll wait until Lucas and I are done with our lunch to start drawing, okay?"

"Okay," Eliott agrees. He finishes off his apples, and decides he's still a little hungry. "Madame Lallemant, could I have some potatoes, please?"

"Of course," she replies. "Just hand me your plate."

He nods, holding it out to her. She spoons out a few, looking to Eliott, who nods. "That's good. Thank you, Madame." He gladly takes his plate back and eats a bit more.

"I think you could teach Lucas some manners, Eliott," Madame Lallemant teases, looking over at her son.

Lucas rolls his eyes, eating a bite of roast beef.

"Or," she continues. "Some drawing techniques."

Lucas shrugs, still chewing.

"I can teach you how to draw animals," Eliott adds. "But I can only draw raccoons, bears, and rabbits."

Lucas giggles at Eliott's response. "Okay, Eliott."

"I want to learn how to draw more, though," Eliott replies. "We can learn together, Lucas!"

Lucas smiles, nodding. "Okay."

They all finish their lunches, and Eliott is practically bouncing in his seat as Madame Lallemant goes to get the paper and the brand new crayons. She had gotten the big box with an even wider rainbow of colors to choose from. Eliott's mouth drops open, staring in awe at the pointed ends, all the colors he never knew they used for crayons. He pulls out a blue one, studying the color.

"Lucas, look," he beams. "This crayon is the same color as your eyes!"

"It does!" Madame Lallemant smiles. "We'll have to draw Lucas and use that for his eyes. We can set it aside until we need to use it."

Eliott nods, placing it over by Madame Lallemant. He takes a sheet of paper, and grabs a few shades of brown and a black crayon. He starts drawing a bear, small and round and fluffy, smiling wide with two bandages crossed over its heart. He spends a little extra time on the fur, using multiple shades of brown to create a rudimentary yet rich, colorful coat of fur.

"What are you drawing, Eliott?" Lucas asks.

Eliott holds up his paper for him to see. "It's my papa, after the doctors make him better."

"Your papa's not a bear, Eliott!" Lucas giggles.

"Lucas!" Madame Lallemant scolds. "Madame Demaury said Eliott draws his papa like a bear."

Eliott nods, trying not to seem hurt by Lucas's laughing. "My maman is a rabbit, and I'm a raccoon."

"What am I, Eliott?" Lucas asks.

"Huh?" Eliott hums, confused.

"What animal am I?" he clarifies.

"Oh," Eliott stutters. "I don't know. Maybe a hedgehog? Because you're tiny and pointy."

Lucas tilts his head, eyebrows knit. "A hedgehog?"

"Yeah," Eliott replies, getting a picture in his head. "Here, let me show you."

Eliott grabs another sheet of paper and keeps his brown crayons. He draws a hedgehog, with its spikes and whiskers. He writes Lucas's name beneath it and shows it to him, a little nervous.

"It does look kind of like you, buddy," Madame Lallemant says, smiling. "That's really good, Eliott!"

"What do you think of mine, Maman?" Lucas cuts in, showing her his drawing.

"That's really good, too, Lucas," she replies, her smile widening. "Actually, yours gives me an idea." She takes a sheet of paper and draws a line down the middle of it. "Okay, Lucas, you draw on this side of the paper," she instructs, pointing at the right side of the paper. "And Eliott, you draw on the other side. Then, I was thinking we can write 'best friends forever on the line. Split it in half, you know? What do you boys think?"

"I like it," Eliott smiles.

"I do, too," Lucas agrees.

"I can draw a raccoon and you can draw a hedgehog!" Eliott says.

"I don't know how to draw a hedgehog," Lucas replies. "Can you teach me?"

Eliott nods, then teases, "Yes, Lucas. I'm Mr. Demaury and I'm your art teacher today."

Lucas laughs, and it makes Eliott laugh, too. Eliott tears a small piece off one of his papers and draws on it, breaking down into small shapes and outlines. He tries to keep it simple for Lucas, but he isn't sure how to. He just draws, lets his mind guide his little hand across the page. How does he teach that to Lucas?

"This is too hard, Eliott," Lucas pouts. "Can't we just draw ourselves?"

Eliott feels a little sad that him and Lucas can't do animals, but he nods. "Okay."

He can't draw people as well as he can draw animals, but he tries his hardest on his side of the drawing. He draws his hair, his blue shirt and gray pants, his house, the beach and the water. He doesn't think it looks very good, but when he sees it next to Lucas's, he can't help but smile. They look almost exactly the same as far the drawings go. It's like they became one artist, one hand. Eliott loves it.

"Do you two wanna write 'best friends forever' on there?" Madame Lallemant asks, pointing at the line in the middle. "Eliott, you write B-E, then F-R-I, then F-O-R, okay?"

Eliott nods, writing his letters next to the line. Lucas snatches the crayon from his hand and finishes off the message. Eliott feels his heart sink again.

"Good job, boys!" Madame Lallemant grins, holding up the picture and looking at it more closely. "We need to show this to your parents when they get back, Eliott! They'll love it!"

Eliott smiles, imagining his mother's beaming smile and his father's delighted laugh. He misses his parents already.

"Which side is better, Maman?" Lucas asks.

"They're both good, buddy," she laughs. "Neither of them are better than the other one."

"I like yours, Lucas," Eliott says. "I like your house."

"I like yours, Eliott," Lucas replies. "I like your water."

"See, you both like the other one better, so they're both good, right?" Madame Lallemant asks.

Lucas and Eliott nod. Eliott smiles. "Lucas still needs to learn how to draw a hedgehog, though."

"I will!" Lucas laughs back. "You need to learn how to draw people, Eliott."

Somehow, Lucas's words make Eliott's stomach turn. He feels his throat close up a little, feels his eyes get wet.

"That's mean," Eliott chokes out.

Madame Lallemant doesn't hear him, and neither does Lucas.

july 11th, 1968

18:57

caen, france

Eliott studies the drawing he's just finished, examining the lines and the colors. The pale belly and face of the hedgehog accentuating the warm, dusty colors of its spines. The yin-yang structure of the raccoon's face, its spindly fingers and its pointed ears. The color and the grain of the Lallemants' dining room table, the lightest fading and yellowing on the papers they drew on, the tiny little drawings lying on the table. Their little feet dangling in the air as they sit, the raccoon's face falling ever so slightly, the hedgehog's face scrunched up with laughter. The day Eliott still remembers so clearly, over 14 years later. The day Eliott almost realized he would love Lucas for the rest of his life. The day he realized how mean Lucas can be sometimes. The day he realized he was afraid Lucas could be even meaner if he wanted to. But 5-year-old Eliott could never foresee Lucas calling him selfish, telling him he never loved him, not truly. He could never imagine Lucas turning his back to him and walking away, no matter how much it hurt him to do it. And, if Eliott is honest, he still can't quite imagine it either, even though the pain of it still lingers just beneath his skin. Even though the pain of it bleeds into every line, every color of his drawing.

Eliott shifts his focus to the letter he plans to attach with the drawing. It's brief, and Eliott barely recognizes his own handwriting, but it says everything Eliott couldn't say through his drawing.

Lucas,

I know this isn't the best time to do this, but we need to talk. We need to explain ourselves to each other. We've loved each other far too much and for far too long for us to part the way we did the day I came home. We deserve better. You deserve better, Lucas. I need you to know that. I'm willing to follow you wherever you go if you'll have me along. Just say the word. Just give me a day, a time, a place. I'll be there. And I'll fight. I'll fight until my last breath, or until you tell me to surrender, whichever comes first. My loyalty belongs to you, Lucas. Yes, it's fallen short. Yes, at times it's cracked and timid. But it's yours. And it will be yours as long as you'll have it. Just let me know if you don't want it anymore, or if you plan on nurturing it for only a little while longer. Just speak to me, Lucas. When you're ready. You know where I'll be when you are ready. I'll wait for you. I promise.

Sincerely yours, Eliott

It's an explanation, an apology, a love letter, tied up with a fraying, old bow. All Eliott can do is hope that it'll be enough to convince Lucas to give him another chance, give them another chance. Lucas doesn't need to break off his engagement. He doesn't need to kiss Eliott or hold him until he falls asleep like he used to. He just needs to be there whenever he can. He just needs to be Eliott's friend again. Is that too much to ask for?

He sighs deeply, folding up the letter and the drawing and placing each of them in separate envelopes. He seals the one with the letter first, then writes Lucas's name on the front of it. His hand shakes as he writes it, the letters coming out jagged and stilted. He shakes his head, moving on to the envelope with the drawing. He wills himself to slow down, spend as much time on each letter as he can. He writes Lucas's name gently, patiently. He doesn't want Lucas to open the letter in front of everyone anyway. It's okay if that one isn't as pretty.

"Eliott, honey," his mother says, knocking quietly on his door. "You're gonna be late for Lucas's party."

"I'm coming, Maman," Eliott replies, gathering himself, his emotions.

"You're looking smart," she smiles, studying his outfit. "I don't remember that shirt."

Eliott smiles back, smoothing out his shirt. It's white accented with purple, pink, and blue flowers, and the sleeves are a little longer, resting just above his elbows. He's paired it with his favorite navy blue slacks. He hates to admit how long it took him to pick his outfit out. But he plays it off, shrugging nonchalantly. "Just something I found in my closet."

"Are you excited for Lucas's party?" she asks, smiling widely, but still visibly bracing herself for his answer.

He shrugs, then nods. "Yeah, I think so."

"Are you sure you don't want me to reach out to Madeleine, like Dr. Garnier said?" she asks softly, relaxing but her posture is still concerned. "You don't have to go to Lucas's party if it's going to make you upset."

"I have to talk to him, Maman," Eliott sighs. "And now's my chance to do that. I'll get him alone at some point, and I'm going to at least tell him my side of the story from that night. He needs to know why I did that to him, even though there's no excuse for it. I need him to know why I did it."

She gives him one of her wobbly smiles. "Okay. But if you need to come home, come home, okay?"

Eliott nods. "I will." He gives her a brief hug and kisses her on the cheek. "Thank you, Maman."

She mutters a "you're welcome" as he walks down the stairs, tucks Lucas's letter into his pocket. He turns and waves at her as he goes out the door. He shuts it behind him, pausing for a moment to even out his breathing. He shuts his eyes, repeating the same words to himself.

He needs to know, he needs to know, he needs to know

He opens his eyes, exhaling slowly, deeply. He walks over to Lucas's house, the grass soft and silent beneath his feet. The sound of the wave, its whisperings soothe him a little, slowing his breathing and his heartbeat a little more. He hears crickets, the wind, car engines—and somewhere, distantly, the gentle, insistent buzzing of hope. It guides him across the way to Lucas's house, with warm lights spilling out of its windows and old, worn cars surrounding it.

He walks up to the front door, memories from a few weeks ago making his feet feel glued to the front porch and a lump lodge itself in his throat. He listens a little closer to the noises of the night, working up the courage, the strength to knock on the door.

Chloé answers, with her too wide smile and too bright eyes. They get even brighter when she sees him. She's suddenly wrapping him in a tight, uncomfortable hug.

"We didn't think you were going to make it, Eliott!" she beams.

"Fashionably late?" he tries, laughing nervously.

"You do look amazing," she compliments. "I love your shirt, where'd you get it? I bet I could convince Lucas to wear something like this."

"I honestly can't remember," he answers truthfully. "I think I got it at that second-hand store downtown a while ago."

"Oh, I love that store!" Chloé smiles. "Lucas and I will have to go down there. But, come in! You can put any gifts you have on that table over there."

Eliott smiles back at her, walking past her nervously as she holds the door open for him.

"Eliott!" He hears several people cheer once he enters the Lallemants' living room.

He grins back at everyone, quickly scanning the room. He sees Yann, Emma, Manon, Imane, Alexia, Arthur with a girl with short, curly hair and glasses (he thinks they're speaking sign language with each other), Basile and Daphné, Daphné's little sister (Lola?) and a shorter girl with purple hair he doesn't recognize, Idriss and Sofiane, and several other people he doesn't recognize. They must all be Chloé's friends, Eliott assumes. He tries to ignore the strangers' stares, instead focusing on trying to find Lucas.

He spots him, then, standing by the gift table talking to his mother.

Lucas is wearing that old denim shirt he always wears for special occasions, and he still looks so good wearing it for the thousandth time. He's laughing at something his mother says, and Eliott can hear his laugh over any other noise in the world in that one, single moment. His laughter drowns out the song of the crickets, the roar of the waves, the drumming of Eliott's heart in his chest, the thunder rumbling from some distant stormcloud. The world is quiet, and the only noise that's left, the only sound that's triumphed over the deafening silence is Lucas's laugh. Eliott feels himself smile, feels a weight roll off his shoulders, feels his chest fill with something he can't quite describe. The letter in his back pocket and the drawing in his hand are almost burning him, but it reminds him of the burns Lucas would give him. Not quite a burn, he amends himself, but a flicker.

Suddenly, Lucas is turning his head and his eyes meet Eliott's. His laughter peters out, his face falling. Eliott feels all the weight come back as noise, sound returned to the world, and it's exchanged for Lucas's silence. Lucas smiles, a little too wide to be genuine, and he offers a quick apology to his mother before walking up to Eliott.

"You made it!" he says, opening his arms for a hug.

"I did," Eliott mutters, smiling weakly. He accepts Lucas's hug, and his heart almost breaks at how loosely Lucas clings onto him. "I guess you could say I was fashionably late."

"Of course you were," Lucas chuckles. He gestures vaguely at the envelope with the drawing. "Is that for me?"

"It is," Eliott answers, trying to strengthen his smile.

"Just put it right here, then," Lucas invites, nodding his head toward the gift table. "I'll be opening everything in a few minutes."

Eliott checks the envelope, making sure Lucas's name is printed clearly, without tremor. Once he's sure it's the correct one, he places it on top of a small, wrapped box. He looks back over at Lucas, whose gaze has found itself somewhere in the cosmos. And once again, Eliott can't keep himself from staring. He swears the stars themselves appear in Lucas's eyes. He swears a universe lies within them and that's why Lucas gets so lost so often. There's a world inside his mind, bleeding into the irises of his eyes, and he's trapped in there, and Eliott wants something between freeing Lucas from his prison and exploring the place Lucas so often retreats to. But ever since that day at the beach, Eliott's afraid he would've seen that same, blank, star-filled gaze if Lucas's eyes were open as he pulled him to shore that day by the water.

Lucas finds his way back to earth, finds his way back into Eliott's eyes, and Eliott looks down as quickly as he can. He feels like he's 15 again, barely able to look his best friend in the eyes because it fills him with this feeling. A feeling that leaves a tingle in his fingers and toes, a warm blush to his cheeks, and a seed of doubt in the back of his mind. A feeling he's familiar with, a feeling he's known almost as long as he's known Lucas, a feeling he could never quite name.

Love.

"Eliott," Madame Lallemant's soft voice greets. She places her hand on his shoulder, giving him her kind smile. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Lucas walk away. "We're so happy you could make it."

"Thank you, Madame," Eliott smiles back.

"How's your mother?" she asks. "She missed you terribly while you were gone, you know."

"She's very well," he replies. "And I know. I missed her terribly, too. And I missed you and Lucas."

"I've been trying to convince that boy to stop spending so much time with Chloé," she sighs, shaking her head. "You two have barely spent any time together since you got back."

"Do they spend a lot of time together?" Eliott asks nervously. "Him and Chloé?"

"Oh, yes," she answers, almost weary. "They're practically attached at the hip. I want my baby boy to fall in love and be happy, but I worry about them. They're very much in the honeymoon phase, and they're only engaged!"

Eliott's eyes find Lucas again, and he has his arm around Chloé, looking at her like she's the sun, moon, and stars themselves. He kisses her, and they melt into each other. Eliott almost feels sick.

"He needs to be with his friends again," Madame Lallemant continues. "I think it could do him some good. His only company simply can't be only me and his fiancée."

"Is he not going out with Yann or Arthur or anyone?" Eliott asks, puzzled.

"They offer to take him out for lunch or just a day downtown, and he always declines," she sighs. "When they came by to invite him to your birthday party, he turned it down so quickly it almost made me dizzy."

"He did?" Eliott asks weakly, his heart crumbling and sinking down to his feet.

Madame Lallemant looks at him sadly, giving him a sad smile. "He did."

Eliott sighs, looking down at the floor. He bites his lips, wills his tears to stay back.

"Maybe you could talk to him?" Madame Lallemant suggests. "Snap him out of this?"

"I was planning on talking to him, anyway," Eliott replies. "We need to talk."

"Oh, is everything okay with you and Lucas?" she asks worriedly, putting her hand on his shoulder.

Eliott resists the urge to flinch at all the memories. "It's... rough."

"Did something happen?" she asks, carefully this time.

Eliott takes a deep breath, deciding whether to tell Madame Lallemant what happened or not. He opens his mouth, but the sound of someone tapping gently on a glass interrupts him.

"Well, I'd like to thank all of you for coming," Lucas says, projecting his voice across the living room. "Thank you for your company and for taking time out of your night to come celebrate with all of us. I'm going to open all these lovely presents, then we can all converse and mingle some more. Thank you all again."

Light applause ripples throughout the living room. Lucas picks up the first gift he sees from off the table, but Eliott doesn't pay much attention to him.

"We never had parties like this growing up," Eliott whispers to Madame Lallemant. "Was this Chloé's idea?"

Madame Lallemant nods. "Lucas is happy, though. The happiest I've seen him in a while."

He used to be this happy around me, Eliott thinks, resigned.

"Eliott, this one is from you, right?" he hears Lucas ask. He manages a nod and a smile in response. He turns towards Lucas, his heart pounding as he opens up the envelope. He swears he sees a genuine smile tug at the corner of Lucas's lip, but it falls once he unfolds the paper and he sees the drawing. The room is eerily quiet as a thousand emotions haunt Lucas's face. Eliott feels every eye turn to him, but his are focused on Lucas.

"What is it, darling?" Chloé asks, reaching to take it from him.

"Nothing, mon amour," Lucas dismisses, unknowingly sending another dagger digging deeply into Eliott's chest. He quickly folds up the drawing and places it back into the envelope. He turns his gaze to Eliott, his voice falsely sweet as he says, "Thank you, Eliott."

Eliott just nods, letting those same thousand emotions on Lucas's face swirl and mix in his chest into a dangerous poison; green with jealousy, bitter with regret, and thick with hope. Eliott feels like he could choke on it.

But Lucas keeps opening the rest of his gifts, smiling and laughing and showing his gratitude in a way Eliott knows he wouldn't if he was being genuine.

Falsely sweet...

Eliott feels like he could explode. He starts walking away, muttering some sort of excuse to Madame Lallemant. He finds his way to the bathroom, which is thankfully open. He shuts the door behind him, making sure to lock it.

He leans against the door, shutting his eyes and willing his breaths to come in and out of his lungs slowly, calmly.

Breathe, a thousand voices tell him, whispering above the thousand emotions in his chest. Breathe.

But the tears begin to spill, and his mind sees a new, clear sky; gray and dark and soulsucking.

He shouldn't have given Lucas that drawing. The way Lucas's face fell starts playing over and over again in his mind against the storming sky, the way his lips parted in shock, realization, and how the gentle tug at the corner of his lip suddenly went slack, and gravity, the weight of Eliott's mistake pulls it down, almost to his chin. Eliott hurt him in that moment. He's hurt him again, even though he vowed to himself and to Lucas that he would never do that again. Not after he hurt him so badly during his attempt.

When Lucas hurts him, truly hurts him, it's often no more than a scratch or a bruise to him. Their reunion was the first time Eliott felt like Lucas was hurting him so badly he could easily succumb to the wounds. He felt like Lucas had stolen all the breath from his lungs, like he'd ripped out all his guts until he was just an empty shell lying on the beach, like he had his heart in his hand and he was slowly squeezing the life out of it.

But Lucas has felt this way far too many times. And almost all those times were Eliott's fault.

The day that they kissed for the first time, Lucas said that Eliott was the reason he knew his heart was beating for the wrong reasons, that its eyes were blind and it fell in love with the wrong people. And Lucas said he'd spent night after night agonizing over the little, traitorous heart in his chest, the boy sleeping soundly next door. Crying himself to sleep, or not sleeping at all and staring at the ceiling that showed him images of everything he should want, and having to listen to his heart say no, no, no, no, that's not what I want. He would remember all the times his father or the boys at school called him a queer, and he would remember all the times he would deny it. Lucas Lallemant could never be a queer. He couldn't. He would fall to his knees, praying to the god his mother loved so much to give him anything that would make those sinful feelings stop. Lucas told Eliott that one night he prayed and asked God to just kill him. Stop his heart and his breath before he let the temptations wash over him and drown him. Those nights, those prayers were Eliott's fault.

The day Lucas drowned was one of the days Eliott felt unstoppable and so in love with this boy he's loved his entire life. The only thing he could think about that whole episode was a life with Lucas. Smiling and laughing over breakfast, smiling and laughing over lunch, smiling and laughing over dinner. Dancing in the kitchen to the old records their parents used to play in their houses. Swimming in the ocean until their skin gets all pruny and their muscles begin to ache and the salty air starts fogging up their lungs. Kissing each other until they can't breathe. Falling asleep in each other's arms every night. Growing old together, loving every wrinkle and gray hair nevertheless. So, Eliott wanted to spend the whole day with Lucas, running around and letting their laughter echo off the roads, the trees, the old buildings still decimated from the war. They went to the beach lastly, and Lucas was tired, but Eliott insisted they swim for a bit. The water was calm. They would have fun. But as the afternoon wore on, the waters became choppy. A wave swallowed Lucas whole and his soul almost drifted out to sea, towards the horizon. He was dead. It didn't matter if Eliott was able to bring him back. Lucas was dead. And it was Eliott's fault.

The night that was so dark Eliott thought he could ever see light again was the night that Eliott hurt Lucas more than he could ever see, ever understand. He tried to take himself away from him, from his mother, from the world. The water was almost at his waist, the waves cresting at his chest. He was only steps away from drowning. He hopes drowning is like Lucas said it was. The worst panic he'll ever feel in his life, then, the most tranquil calm. Then he'll fall asleep, give himself to the waves. Disappear. He left notes for Lucas and his mother. Everything will be okay. This was the right decision. But, just as water started to lap into his mouth, he hears someone call his name. He turns around, and Lucas is running toward him, slowing down as he approached the water. In a moment of clarity, Eliott could see the pain in Lucas's face. It coaxes him out of the water, away from eternity. Lucas ventures into the water, throwing his arms around Eliott and sobbing. He should've known in that moment that what he tried to would've been the gravest mistake he could've made. But it took two years for him to realize. It took two years of Lucas imagining what would've happened if he had been too late for him to realize. Lucas told him. He told him his worst nightmare. Pulling his body out of the water and not being able to save him. Lucas's drowning was an accident, and Eliott got to him in time. But Eliott's would've been on purpose, and Lucas would've been too late. How could Lucas ever live with that? How could Eliott make him go through something like that?

Eliott realizes that Lucas was right.

There's a knock at the door, and Eliott almost screams as he jumps back. Then his heart nearly stops when he hears a voice say his name.

"I need a minute, Lucas," he chokes out. "Please."

"I can wait," Lucas replies, his voice thin, full of an emotion Eliott can't discern.

Eliott takes a deep breath, wiping away his tears.

"Meet me where the grass ends," Lucas says, almost emotionless. "Okay?"

"Okay."

He hears Lucas's footsteps walk away, and he exhales as slowly as he can.

Breathe.

He unlocks the door, stepping out of the bathroom slowly. He takes another deep breath and walks out the back door. He can see Lucas standing where he said he would be. He must've heard Eliott coming, because he turns towards him. The light from the back porch is just enough to illuminate his face. He's hiding something somewhere in there, and it shows in the way he's biting his lip, as if he were biting back a secret.

Eliott walks forward, his stomach turning and his mouth going dry as he approaches him. There's silence for a moment, and Eliott searches for what Lucas is hiding. But he can't find it. His eyes start to drift to the ground, and he sees a sheet of paper in Lucas's hand. But it's not his drawing. He feels the color drain from his face as he checks his pocket and finds nothing.

"How... How did you get that?" he stammers, his hands beginning to shake.

"My maman said it fell out of your pocket when you ran off," Lucas replies, his voice still void of emotion. "And I've read it."

"And?" Eliott chokes out, looking up at Lucas. The facade has finally cracked. Lucas looks exhausted.

"I don't know what to do, Eliott," he says, sighing wearily.

"I don't know, either," Eliott admits. "I was hoping you would know."

Lucas doesn't reply. He stares back at him, hopeless.

"I'm sorry, Lucas," Eliott tries, his tears coming back.

"For what?" Lucas asks, shaking his head.

Everything, Eliott wants to reply. He wants to cradle Lucas's face in his hands and tell him, Everything! But Lucas speaks before he can do anything.

"The drawing? The letter? Everything that happened before? For what?"

Eliott stuffs his hands in his pockets, trying to keep them from doing what they so desperately want to do. "Everything," he still says.

"Everything?" Lucas repeats, raising his eyebrows. "You have a lot to catch up on, then."

"I know," Eliott sighs.

"Your letter was touching, Eliott," Lucas says. "It really was. But I'm sure you understand that your loyalty isn't as precious to me now as it was when we were younger."

"I do," Eliott agrees. "That's why I want us to talk, Lucas. I told you, I'll talk whenever you're ready to talk."

"I'm not ready to talk yet," Lucas replies, shaking his head. "But I need you to know a few things. Right now."

"Okay," Eliott shrugs. "Tell me, then."

"We can't be... together anymore," Lucas stammers out. "Not like we were before everything happened. I'm in love with Chloé, and I'm going to give her the Christmas wedding she's dreamed of and I'm going to give her everything I have. I was... I was wrong back then. I hadn't met Chloé yet. I'm not a queer. I know now."

Eliott ignores the lump in his throat. "Can I ask you a question then, Lucas?"

Lucas nods, and the hesitance of it stings. "Okay."

"Did you ever love me the way you love Chloé?" Eliott asks, his voice strangled. "Did... Did you ever love me at all?"

Lucas doesn't respond at first, and Eliott can tell he doesn't like the answer he's about to give him. Finally, Lucas says, "I don't think so, Eliott."

Eliott feels a single, hot tear roll down his cheek. His voice is thick as he replies, "Okay."

"And," Lucas begins, but then pauses. He takes a deep breath, then continues, "I'm sorry for what I said when you came home. It was unfair of me. More than unfair. I was angry and in shock and..." He trails off again.

"What?" Eliott asks softly. "Lucas, please tell me."

Eliott sees tears on Lucas's face, too. "In that moment, I wanted to hurt you," he admits, his voice like shattering glass. "And I knew that what I said would hurt you. And I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry."

"Then why haven't you talked to me since then?" Eliott asks, his voice a little clearer now. "Why did you turn down the boys' invitation to my party so quickly your maman told her it made her dizzy? Why was you happening to run into me outside the psychiatric office the only reason I was invited to your birthday party? Why did you lie to your fiancée about me not feeling well? My house if right across the street, Lucas. You could've walked over and told me anytime. If you were sorry why didn't you say it before?"

"I don't know," Lucas replies, broken.

Eliott sighs, feeling more defeated than he has in a while. "What else do you want me to know, then?"

Lucas nods, wiping away his tears and gathering himself again. "This is gonna sound stupid now," he mutters, shaking his head. "In your letter, you said that you just wanted to know if I would nurture your loyalty a little longer."

Eliott takes a deep breath, nodding. "And will you?"

Lucas nods again. "I will," he answers. "If you'll let me."

Eliott nods and speaks before he lets himself think. "I'll let you."

Lucas smiles, one of his small, shy ones, and Eliott's tears seem to vanish. "Thank you, Eliott."

Eliott smiles back, small and shy, too. "You're welcome."

Lucas's smile widens, and he looks down at the ground. Eliott used to hate when he did that. He couldn't see Lucas's beautiful smile when he was hiding it like that. Eliott still doesn't like him hiding.

"I guess we'd better get back inside," Lucas says, so nonchalantly it takes Eliott aback.

Eliott pauses, biting his lip. "I'm... I'm gonna go home, Lucas."

"Oh, you are?" Lucas asks, disappointed.

Eliott nods. "I am."

"Can... Can we hug, then?" Lucas asks, cautiously this time.

Eliott nods. "Of course."

Lucas grins and wraps his arm around Eliott, tighter this time. Their sudden height difference is suddenly much more apparent, but it makes Eliott smile a little. He kisses Lucas's forehead, the skin cool and familiar against his lips. "Happy birthday, Lucas," he says into his hair.

He still feels all those emotions swirling in his chest.

"Thank you," Lucas returns. "Goodnight, Eliott."

"Goodnight, Lucas."

Lucas pulls away first, and waves a small goodbye before he walks towards the house.

Once Lucas goes inside, Eliott starts walking, his heart sinking to his feet as slowly as if it were sinking into the depths of the ocean. His steps are heavy with a weight, a grief he can't quite name. And tears are rolling down his cheeks, but not from sadness or devastation, but from a kind of acceptance.

Acceptance. That's the name of the thing slowing him down as he trudges home.

#skam france #skamfr #elu #eliott demaury #lucas lallemant #skamfr fic #elu fic #ttmc #hush bailey #my writing

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thewhiterabbit42 · 6 years ago

Text

Three’s Company: Part 3

Key

Chapter Pairing: Gabriel x reader

Series Pairing: Loki x Nymph!Reader x Gabriel

Summary: Gabriel shows up and does what he does best.

Word Count: 2483

Chapter Tags/Warnings: pre-relationship, a little UST

Series Tags/Warnings: Nymph!reader, slow burn, indebted!reader, smut, poly-relationship (more to come)

Author’s note: Please check the warnings / tags with each update, as this series is only loosely planned and ever evolving.

Series Masterlist - coming soon!

<< Part 2

You wonder if Gabriel knows you can sense him. Not so much his energy. He keeps that off the grid so well even your most concerted efforts can’t uncover it, and you’ve come to realize there must be some element of magic involved to help hide him.

Still, there’s something about his presence that registers. It alters the atmosphere in ways you don’t understand. It’s not a physical change. You can’t detect it with your eyes, but your other senses wake up when he’s near, as if shaking off a long sleep, and everything feels brighter.

He doesn’t announce himself, and you don’t acknowledge him. You’re in the middle of reorganizing Loki’s office, something you’ve meant to get to for weeks. More importantly, you’re not done moping yet, and you know the moment the archangel realizes you’re in a sour mood, he’ll not only try to drag you out of it, but succeed.

He gives you space, allowing you to work in silence while he lingers. The absence of him even when he’s there is just as distracting as Loki’s overbearing presence. Part of you wishes Gabriel would leave, while another doesn’t want to be alone.

The dissonance only inflames your irritability, and you shove a text onto the shelf so hard the entire bookcase jostles.

It’s the opportunity he’s been waiting for, his body suddenly rounding the side of the desk as he saunters up beside you. “What did..,” he pauses, reading the label along the spine. “The death records of the Athenian temple for Aphrodite ever do to you?”

The words are barely out of his mouth before he’s pulling it back off the shelf to verify that’s what it actually is.

“Why do we even have this?” He asks, slamming the book shut before waving it in front of you.

“What exactly do you do around here, again?” You snatch it back from his hand, and your barb earns you a pointed look.

To be fair, if he doesn’t want you asking questions you know the answer to, then neither should he.

“Bother beauties like yourself and look good doing it?” The smile he gives you is devastating, and you’re already responding. Your mood and lips lift around the edges as he leans closer, brows waggling.

Without thinking, you place your palm over his face, smothering his charm as you playfully give him a push. “Put that away.”

He bats your hand to the side, amusement dancing across his features. “I saw that smile. Don’t try to hide it. I see all.”

Clearly not, but you imagine he could if he opened his eyes a little more. Your thoughts stray to recent lore you just happened to be perusing on archangels. Special ordered. In no way related to your current company. Just like your current hotel has nothing to do with it being close enough to a library to make a reasonable request (with a reasonable tip) for staff to make a pickup for you.

He tilts his head, leaning against the bookshelf, and his stare shifts to something more appraising. “What’s that look for?”

With Loki you tend to pause before answering, mindful of the words you choose, but with Gabriel the need to censor yourself doesn’t exist. He may look like your boss, but he holds no key to your bonds.

Besides, there’s nothing you can say that’s any worse than what you’ve heard come out of his mouth.

“I was just wondering what your true form was like.”

His brows raise in tandem, and for a moment he looks on the verge of a serious answer. Any hope is dashed the moment a familiar twinkle enters his gaze.

“If you’re really interested, how about a trade: I’ll show you yours, you show me mine?”

You’re not even sure what that means, but instead of trying to make sense of it, you simply roll your eyes. You don’t need to play his game to notice what lies beneath the innuendo; a slow simmering curiosity that builds the longer you know him.

You imagine he’s seen just about everything in his long life, but you’re certain he’s never received a full blown whammy from something like you. Some can harness it. Some lose their mind. Most simply muddle through it or succumb.

You have no idea how he’d react. You’ve never tried unleashing your magic on the divine. Archangels, in particular, are a wild card. Their grace is powerful, completely unknown to you and many others. Heaven’s children tended to keep to themselves over the ages, and into their corresponding worshippers’ territories. Gabriel is a rarity on so many levels.

Which includes the fact that bad pickup lines actually sound good coming from him. Not that you’ll ever let him know that.

You snort. “Does that actually work?”

He lowers himself onto the edge of the desk, his facade dropping and revealing the casual veneer you’re accustomed to. “You can’t tell me you’ve never used a cheesy line before.”

You’ve dropped many over the ages, back when Loki used to take you into civilization. He used to allow you to mingle among humans under his distant but watchful eye, so long as it was far, far away from other supernatural beings.

The irritation from earlier bubbles up inside you, and you fix the archangel with a direct stare.

He winces before you even snap at him.

“And when do you suppose I’d have the chance to do that?”

Part of you wants to be furious at the ever closing collar around your neck. Part of you realizes you’ve long since lost the taste for meaningless encounters, so there’s little point in being let out. At least not among society.

“Is that why you’re not yourself lately?”

He’s noticed. You’re not sure why this revelation stuns you, but it does. Loki’s usually the one keeping close tabs on you. Too close these days, you guess, which is why he can’t see the forest for the trees, or your increasing need for either of them.

Gabriel has been the one hovering, however. While his counterpart often equates him to the annoying fly buzzing about one’s head, you find him amusing, increasingly endearing, and distracting in ways that have your heart rate climbing and your stomach fluttering whenever you make eye contact.

That, combined with your surprise, has you fumbling with what to say. He picks up on this as well, but this time is different. Everything about him goes eerily still.

“Just because I act shallow, doesn’t mean I always am.”

Merciful Zeus, he’s offended. You’ve seen him angry, bitter, but rarely like you’ve plucked a feather straight out of his wings.

The darks of his eyes grow wider, slowly eating away at the edges of gold, and you realize what the problem is.

“Gabriel, you should keep your distance.” You shrink away from him, allowing time for the quiet assertion to sink in as you turn and pretend to wipe lingering dust off some of the books.

His brow furrows before spiking again. “He hasn’t let you out at all, has he?” There’s no time to answer as he runs a hand through his hair. “That sonofa --”

You’ve only heard Enochian a handful of times. Loki forbids it from being spoken, but there are times, like now, the archangel slips. You have no idea what he’s saying, other than it can’t be very flattering.

He’s still muttering when he jumps off the desk, grabbing you without warning. “C’mon.”

There’s a jolt before his hand even closes around your wrist, energy sparking against your skin and sending a shockwave of effervescence through your system. A dizzying rush follows, the room whirling as the sharp, pristine contrast of black and white melts into muddied, earthen tones.

You can smell it before you see it; know on an instinctual level where you are before foliage springs up around you. You’re far from the city, but not completely off the map. You can feel the lingering imprints of human energy, but it’s background noise against the vast symphony of flora and fauna that greet every one of your senses like a long lost friend.

You let out a breath, watching the way it crystallizes on the air, before wide eyes take in your surroundings. You’ve missed the vibrant colors of autumn, arriving just in time to catch the last vestiges of life echoing in faded, ruddy, and dull tones. What remains is still breathtaking in its own way; a quiet contrast to the neutral browns and smatterings of green that still remain.

The natural beauty of this place becomes lost, however, against your panic.

“You need to bring me back,” you insist. “I don’t have permission to be here.”

You don’t have permission to be anywhere save Loki’s suite, and he’s already issued his judgment on this matter not two hours ago. He’ll be livid if he finds out you left, but it’s what remains when his pride retreats and the flames of his fury have burned out that worries you.

“Please.”

Gabriel’s taken aback by your words, and you realize you’ve never seen what disappointment looks like with him.

Anxiety overlays your misgivings, creating new ones, sending conflict careening against the constant reminder that everything you’ve craved is close enough to touch. You forget yourself, eyes closing as you breathe deep, letting it all sink beneath your skin, if only for a moment.

Gabriel whistles, low and long. “That right there, kid? Exactly why we’re staying.”

You’re head’s not above enough water to realize he’s called you a name he reserves for moments of condescension or great sympathy. All you’re aware of is need, crashing heavily over you, sweeping away your resolve with the tide and leaving a flurry of what ifs in their wake.

There’s a slow, creeping euphoria as the fibers in your being extend, reaching out to reconnect their fraying ends to organic, sturdy threads. Your arm extends, fingertips seeking out a solid source closest to you. Your feet are already moving, guided by a sense that exists only for your kind, until your hand connects with chill kissed bark and everything suddenly stills.

There is peace. It’s in the slumber radiating beneath your palm and the small pearl of life tucked away from the cold. It resonates, with the rays of summer that have kept its leaves well fed, with the rain that’s kept its innermost layers nourished.

You lean forward, your dress snagging at intervals along its rough body. You rest your cheek against it, drinking in its silent conversation with everything you have. It calms and energizes you in a way you nothing else has and you imagine never will.

The moment morphs into something different as another presence shifts closer to you, one that is unmistakably vibrant and demands to be acknowledged.

“By all means, get whatever you need to out of your system,” he tells you. “But I gotta say, if you start humping that tree, I am outta here.”

You open your eyes, pupils large and owlish, and you let out a small laugh that borders on manic.

Gabriel peers around the side of the tree, his own stare dilating in response. “Holy shit, you look about as high as the first time we took you out.”

Out. You’re out without permission. The reminder collars your innate drives, putting them back into check so you can think again.

“We should go.” Resignation has you deflating against the sturdy maple.

“Like hell we are,” he insists, hands on his hips. It’s the most serious you’ve seen him since you offered yourself as a distraction to get him (and Loki by association) out of hot water in Beijing ages ago.

He didn’t listened to you then, either.

“Just who do you think he leaves in charge when he’s away, hmmm?” He questioned. “And as temporary head honcho, I am ordering you to be here.”

Power is shared. Equal? No, not quite. Not in all matters, but hope catches in your throat nonetheless.

You try to recall the exceptions. He never deals with her. He rarely deals with you. Not in official capacity. Not often. Not without orders.

It’s clear the trickster in front of you is not used to being the leash holder, and he begins to shift beneath the weight of your silence. “...if you want to, that is.”

You continue to stare at him, and it’s as if you’re seeing him for the first time.

Gabriel, beneath the hijinks and human vessel, is as unfathomable as his true form; an infinite being, so vastly powerful, and yet he is the softness to the hardened edges that is his shared identity. He has the power to take your freedom as much as to let you taste it, and yet, his offer is based on what you want and need instead of what serves him most.

The gesture has you on the verge of tears or kissing him. You ride the impulse halfway, releasing your wooden anchor to slip your arms around him.

He goes stiff, your enthusiasm knocking him back a step as you leap at him. A part of you knows - shouldn’t touch - but he always has a way of making you forget yourself.

“Yeesh, you must be really desperate if you’re this grateful for fresh air.” He eases his awkward reaction with a good-natured tease and a small pat on your back before extricating himself from your grip.

“Go on,” he gestures toward the forest. “Enjoy, before the clock strikes midnight and we both turn into pumpkins.”

Midnight.

His eyes narrow intently. “What?”

You have no idea what’s showing on your features, only that it’s confusing the hell out of him by the look on his.

“Can we really stay out until then?” Your voice is uncharacteristically timid, a fail-safe chiding with a distant too much the moment the words have left your mouth.

You immediately regret it. You shouldn’t ask for more, not when he’s being so generous already. A brief but intense debate sparks, the outcome muting the brightness in your eyes.

“Never mind.” You shake your head, ashamed to have even thought of pushing, let alone saying anything.

A brief touch along the side of your face brings you back again, though you hold off on looking up. You don’t want him to see your disappointment, to mistake it for being thankless.

“Sweetheart, we can stay out as long your heart desires.”

His answer sweeps you completely out to sea, gratitude restoring the brightness to your gaze. This time you do kiss him, lips catching the corner of his in thoughtless haste. You dance away just as quickly, twirling through the leaves, your excitement blinding you to the way every molecule in his being grinds to a halt and how he deliberately keeps his distance for the next few hours.

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#Gabriel x reader #Gabriel x reader x loki #loki x reader x gabriel #supernatural fanfiction #gabriel #spn gabriel #gabriel fanfiction #rabbit writes #three's company

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thannxx · 6 years ago

Photo

BOOKSHELF REORGANIZATION.

I decided to do something productive on the third day of my Christmas break. It has been two years since I last cleaned and organized my shelves. It was not because I didn’t have the time. I just lost the excitement because of D.

Here’s a little background story.

I started reading and collecting books in 2012. Prior to that, I was an ultimate “book nerd hater.” My friends and I insulted book nerds. We condemned books and reading. We thought reading was for nerds, one thing we didn’t want to be called, and it was nothing but boring.

I grew up surrounded by books. I know, I know, ironic, isn’t it? My parents made sure my siblings and I grew up bookworms like they did. I learned how to read at the age of five and if I remember it correctly, when I was kid, I couldn’t sleep without reading a book or two. I don’t know what happened when I reached fifth grade. Perhaps because technology and social networking sites have become rampant that reading books became the bottom of my priority list.

Then one day, a miracle happened.

Summer of 2012, we just got back from La Union where we had a mini reunion during the Holy Week. One of my cousins asked if she could use my PC because she needed to download something for her project (she was an IT student, she’s a graduate now) and then we found out that our router was having a malfunction.

My dad promised that he would have it fixed right away, knowing us who can’t survive one day without Facebook.

It took PLDT two weeks to respond. By then we were more than bored. I was already cursing PLDT because my cousins were leaving the next day and there was no internet and I was dying of boredom. So my cousins tagged me along as they went to check on books at the local bookstore. They’re avid readers, you see. I was very excited not because we were going to the bookstore but because it was located in SM and strolling around the mall was a breather.

I didn’t end up strolling.

I ended up reading a book instead. It was Fallen in Love by Lauren Kate. My cousins read books for almost two hours and because they asked me to wait for them which definitely bore me the heck out of me, I had to grab a book and check it out as well.

That started my journey with books.

I then realized the book I was reading was part of a series and it wasn’t the first book. I searched the shelf and saw Torment, which had a similar cover, and thought of buying it as soon as possible. I asked my dad a day after if I could buy it and he happily said yes.

There you have it. I bought Torment by Lauren Kate. I was rather stoked to start reading when I got home. I even grabbed a pencil to mark the words I didn’t understand and even underline my favorite lines. My mom saw me and told me about her bookworm habits when she was a teenager. She said I inherited that habit from her. She used to read anything and marked everything she didn’t understand. That was how it enhanced her vocabulary and now she’s an English teacher.

It’s funny because Torment isn’t the first book either. It’s Fallen. I discovered it only when I was already halfway through the book. After Torment I went back to the bookstore for Fallen. Unfortunately, Fallen wasn’t available at the bookstore yet. So I had to wait. But since I had nothing else to do and I thought I enjoyed reading, I bought Vampire Academy instead.

From then on, I spend my summers reading books. Actually, not only summers. I buy books every time I have free time even on school days. I even got scolded by my teacher in high school because I was reading instead of doing our thesis.

Who would have thought that a book nerd hater like me would end up as one?

I now own approximately three hundred Young Adult fiction books. Yup, I’m one of those lucky kiddos whose parents support them when it comes to buying books. I also ran my own bookstagram in 2015 which inspired me to read and collect more.

My books became my life. I almost lost them all when I joined a Born Again Christian organization in college. The previous church leaders took the Bible too literally they made us think my books, which consisted mostly of angel-demon-witchcraft-stories, “are a doorway of the ‘enemy.’” [Yes, those were their exact words.] Funny that I almost believed them and was on the verge of burning my books. Thankfully I didn’t. It turned out those church leaders were actually inhumane, hiding behind the facade of the church.

MY FIRST EVER SHELF WAS ACTUALLY A LADDER which the interior designer painted black to go with my room’s theme. I kept bugging my dad to buy me new shelves as my collection grew. When we finally had the time, he asked his client to make me two huge shelves.

I gradually and painstakingly collected hardbacks. Back then, buying books was only for reading. But as my pile of books grew bigger, my desire to start a collection only intensified. My dad was actually the one who suggested I collect hardbacks instead. They’re quite expensive though so I’m planning to replace all my paperbacks when I’m already a lawyer.

I STOPPED READING AND COLLECTING BOOKS IN 2016 BECAUSE OF MY EX, D. I was still an avid reader at the beginning of our relationship but he was so petty he’d get jealous of my books. Yup, pathetic, I know. He loved movies and TV shows but I preferred books. So every time he’d watch, I’d bring out a book. But he would always grab the book and set it aside, insisting I should be spending time with him and not with my book. Added is the fact that I lost interest in my fictional boyfriends because I had my own boyfriend anyway.

I tried reading again when we broke up but I just no longer had the heart to.

My interest in reading fictional books was finally rekindled last November when my friends and I went to BGC as a sidetrip during our Bar Operations. I have been to BGC numerous times already but it was the first time I’m visiting Fullybooked. Lo and behold, the sight of V.E. Schwab’s A Darker Shade of Magic collector’s edition welcomed me. Once again I was pulled in my own reverie at the sight of books. I was very much amazed I kept squealing! And as if it wasn’t enough, Ellie, one of my fellow bookworms, enticed me to go and buy some. “Bumili ka na, ang tagal nanaman bago tayo makakabalik because Law school.” were her exact words. Demonyo talaga HAHAHAHAHA. So I bought three: A Darker Shade of Magic, The Raven King and The Crooked Kingdom.

The sight of the books, the excitement of buying them, of holding them, it was a familiar yet unfamiliar feeling. I don’t know how else I can describe the pleasure of holding my new books. All I know is, I’m finally home.

I’ve yet to post pictures of my second shelf. Coincidentally, my ipad ran out of battery when I was about to send the pictures to post.

#book collection #bookwormph #tantan

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georgecostanzaatemysoup · 7 years ago

Note

For the prompt thing: Modern AU where Caleb is the librarian at the local library and Fjord keeps borrowing increasingly complex books in order to impress him.

Awwww!!! Sure thing, Anon :)

This is about 3000 words so I’m going to just add a read more so it doesn’t take up your dash. Thank you for the prompt.

AO3

“Ma’am we don’t have that book,” Caleb says softly, turning the screen towards her so she can see for herself. “But I’m willing to order…”

She squints at the screen over her glasses, poking the monitor, missing the way Caleb winces when her finger leaves a smudge. “It says here that you do.”

“Yes, normally we do, but every copy has been checked…”

“If you do,” she starts slowly, narrowing her eyes at him, “then why tell me you don’t.”

“Because it’s checked out,” he says softly, pointing at the screen. “It’s not here at the moment, but I’ll order…”

“Well, when is someone going to return it?”

Caleb barely holds back a frustrated sigh. “I don’t know.”

“How can you not know?”

“Because I don’t…”

She gives him a dark look, pulling her purse strap higher up on her shoulder, and storms out of the library, grumbling under her breath.

“Have a nice day,” Caleb mutters sarcastically, letting his eyes drift back to his book. He’s not even supposed to be here today, but his inability to say no has once again screwed him out of another day off.

He hears the door open and he sighs softly, looking up from his book, watching as a girl with blue hair and a tall man walk past the counter, the girl chatting animatedly in a thick, Russian accent while the man nods along, a fond smile on his face.

“And I’m not saying, technically, that is was my fault, but I am saying, technically, that it wasn’t not my fault…”

“Jester, did you do it?”

She gives him an unashamed smile and says, “I did.”

He snorts, shaking his head, and the two disappear behind the shelf, the girl giggling at something the guy said.

Caleb closes his book, rubbing the back of his neck, and hopes these two leave soon.

Fjord watches as Jester moves all the books around, peeking around the shelf to make sure the librarian isn’t coming to check on them. When he looks back at her he says, “Don’t you think this is a little cruel?”

“I’m not doing anything bad,” Jester replies, reordering the Narnia novels by title instead of number. “Technically all the books are still in order by author. I’m just-” she moves onto another series, “-reordering them a little bit.”

When she’s satisfied with her work, Jester moves onto another shelf, and Fjord quickly fixes the books. He noticed how tired the librarian looked when they walked in, he’s not going to give this guy even more work.

“Are you interested in that series?” a voice asks from behind Fjord and he whirls around, clutching The Magician’s Nephew tightly in his hand, heart hammering in his chest.

The librarian looks up at him with his arms crossed, eyebrows raised in inquiry, and Fjord stammers, “Uh, I was just, uh…” he turns, putting the books back, and grabs one at random. “Thinking about checking this out.”

Uncrossing his arms, the librarian lets his eyes drift towards the book in Fjord’s hand. “Are you sure?”

“Uh, yeah.” Fjord nods. “Yep. I just really like-” he glances at the title. “DH Lawrence? I like how she…”

“He,” the librarian corrects softly.

“Yeah, uh, he writes. His stuff. You know?”

With a dubious look, the librarian nods. “Uh-huh.” His looks towards the bookshelf Jester had disappeared behind and says, “Is your friend going to reorganize all my shelves?”

Flushing, Fjord murmurs, “Probably.”

Eyes narrowing, the librarian says, “Then you’ve got a lot of work cut out for you.”

“Yeah.”

Fjord watches the man walk away. He jumps when Jester appears at his side and asks, “Why do you have that look on your face?”

“What look?” he says, quickly looking away and down at her.

“Like you’ve been hit with a brick?”

Scowling, Fjord grumbles, “Are you done messing with the shelves?”

“It’s no fun if you fix them,” Jester replies, pouting.

“Then maybe you shouldn’t do it.”

She thinks a minute before shaking her head. “Nah. Let’s go to the grocery store. I have a potato chip aisle I need to rearrange.”

With a sigh, Fjord puts the DH Lawrence novel back and follows her out, keeping his head down when he walks past the librarian. He swears he feels the man’s eyes on the back of his head, but when he chances a look back at him he’s silently reading his book.

“It’s not too flashy?” Nott asks worriedly, spreading her arms out, showing Caleb her new dress.

“It’s beautiful,” he says with a smile, holding his phone up so he can see her better. “I like the color.”

“Do you?” When he nods she smiles shyly. “I wasn’t sure. I liked the red, but there was this blue one…” she trails off, uncertainty in her eyes. “Are you sure you like the color?”

“I promise.”

The library door opens and Caleb looks up, watching as the guy from the other day walks past the counter. He’s accompanied by a man with head full of lavender hair and piercings; his flashy blue coat barely hiding the scars crisscrossing the back of his neck. His boots clomp across the floor as he heads towards the reference section, the other man following behind him, hands stuffed in his jeans pockets, head down. Caleb hadn’t noticed before, but he has a scar running down his face, right across his left eye. He wonders how he got it.

“Nott, I’ll have to call you back, okay? Someone came into the library.”

“Okay, Caleb. Bye.”

“Goodbye.”

He ends the face time call, pocketing his phone, and cranes his head, trying to see around the bookshelves, wondering what these two guys are doing; hoping it’s not going to be a repeat of the other day. He doesn’t feel like rearrange bookshelves again.

They return a good twenty minutes later, the lavender guy setting a pile of books onto the counter, his card sitting on top, and Caleb scans it before scanning each book, listening to their conversation.

“I could be in a band,” the lavender guy says casually, his accent lighter than the blue haired girls but definitely there.

“Can you play an instrument?” the other guy asks, and Caleb notices an accent now; something southern. How did he miss all these small details last time? He’s usually better at this.

“It can’t be that hard.”

“If you say so.”

Caleb pushes the books towards him, setting his library card on top, and he offers Caleb a smile and tilts his head into a slight nod. “Thank you.”

“Have a good day.”

As he steps away from the counter, the other guy sets a book down and says, “Hello.”

“Hello,” Caleb greets him, looking down at the book. “Joseph Conrad is very good.”

“Is he?” the guy asks, glaring back at his friend when he snorts. He turns back to Caleb and smiles. “Would you recommend him?”

“Uh, I guess. He can be difficult to read, but you seem clever.” He scans the book before realizing he hasn’t scanned the man’s card yet, face flushing. “Sorry,” he murmurs, keeping his head down.

“It’s fine.”

Caleb risks a glance up at the other man, and he notices the sincere look on his face, and the way his ears are a little red. He’s not sure what caused the redness, but he’s not about to ask either.

He quickly corrects his mistake, handing the book and card back to the man, and says, “Have a nice day.”

“You too.”

He risks looking at the computer as he’s leaving, wanting to get a name, furrowing his eyebrows when he reads the five letter word: Fjord? How did he even pronounce that?

As soon as the door closes behind the two men, Caleb immediately calls Nott.

Fjord keeps the book for a week before returning it, feeling a little guilty that he hadn’t actually read it. He’d tried, three times, but he couldn’t get into the plot and his eyes kept slipping over the words without really taking them in, and by the end of the week he had to admit he just didn’t like the book.

He drops the book into the return bin, tapping his fingers against the top, telling himself he should just go home, but he really wants to see that librarian again.

But what if he asks about the book, he asks himself.

Lie, he replies, the voice sounding a lot like Jester.

He doesn’t want to lie to the guy, but he really doesn’t want to admit he couldn’t get into the book either. Especially since the guy called him clever; he really should have just read the book.

“Oh, hello.”

Fjord turns around, watching as the librarian walks up the steps, tattered brown jacket unbuttoned. He’s holding a set of keys, and Fjord realizes the library isn’t even open yet.

“Uh, hi.”

“You finish your book?” the librarian asks, unlocking the doors.

“Yes,” Fjord lies, shooting a guilty look at the return box. “It was-” he trails off, searching for the right word. “-great.”

“What was your favorite part?”

“I just-” Fjord shrugs. “Everything?”

A skeptical look crosses the librarian’s face, but he nods and says, “Okay.” He pushes the doors open, gesturing for Fjord to enter the building first, and follows him inside.

“I have to get the computer set up, but feel free to look around. Perhaps Conrad isn’t for you.”

Before Fjord can respond, the librarian has already walked away, disappearing into the back office to drop off his coat. Fjord sighs, shaking his head slowly, and starts browsing the shelves.

Caleb is crawling around on the floor, looking for the thumbtack he dropped, when he hears someone approach the counter. He gets up too quickly, cracking his head, and swears in German.

“You okay?”

He recognizes the voice immediately and his face flushes. He stands up, keeping his eyes down, and nods. “I am fine.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

He looks up at the man who most definitely did not read Conrad; at Fjord. Caleb doesn’t blame him, he barely wanted to read him in college, but he doesn’t know why the guy lied to him; it’s not like he would have cared. Sometimes it took a few tries to find the right book.

Caleb glances down at the book the guy set on the counter, tilting his head. “Infinite Jest? You sure have an eclectic taste in books.”

“Just keeepin’ my options open,” Fjord replies, ruffling the back of his hair.

“Okay.” Caleb takes his library card from him, scanning it, and scans the book too. When he hands both back to him, he can’t help asking, “Your name?”

“How is it pronounced?” Fjord says and Caleb nods. “Like Ford. The vehicle.”

“Why the J?”

“Why not?” Fjord winks, walking out of the library. Caleb flushes and he sits down in his chair only to hop up.

He sat on the thumbtack.

Fjord doesn’t get very far into this book either before giving up. He sighs softly, shaking his head, and gets his laptop. He searches for book titles that sound smart, but would hold his interest. He has to read something, just so he can talk to the cute librarian about it. The guy always has his nose buried in a book every time Fjord goes into the library. He likes to read; Fjord can learn to like to read. He just needs to find the right book.

He drops Infinite Jest off in the return slot that night after work, a list full of potential book titles crammed in his back pocket. He nods at the librarian when he steps into the library, heading into the back, and starts searching the shelves.

“Do you need help?” he hears the librarian call from the front.

“Uh, I…” Fjord sighs, heading towards the front of the library. He stops at the counter, digging his list out of his pocket, and drops it on the counter. “Do you have any of these books?”

The librarian scans the list, nodding slowly, and says, “We have all of these books.”

“Do you?”

“Yes.” He turns to the computer, typing in the first title on the list, and sighs softly. “Looks like that one has been checked out.” He types in the next one, but that one has been checked out too. One after the other, all of the books Fjord had found on the internet are not in the library. The librarian shakes his head slowly and says, “I’m sorry. Perhaps I can find you something else?”

“I mean… I was hoping…” Fjord hangs his head, letting out a slow breath. “Okay. What would you recommend?”

“Do you have any hobbies?”

“I, uh, I make model boats? You know, in the bottles?” He’s not sure why he sounds like he’s asking a question, but he’s grateful when the librarian doesn’t comment on it.

“Do you like sailing?”

“Haven’t been sailing in years?” Not since his father died, but Fjord had loved it when he’d been a kid. “But yeah, I don’t mind it.”

The librarian looks up, smiling, and says, “Robert Louis Stevenson.”

“What?”

“That’s who I recommend.” He gestures towards the far shelves and says, “I think you’ll enjoy him.”

“Thanks. Thank you.”

“Anytime.

Caleb looks up when someone sets a book on the counter, smiling when he sees the grin on Fjord’s face. “Enjoy the book?”

“I did actually,” Fjord answers, nodding enthusiastically. “Thank you for recommending him.”

Caleb nods. “He’s written more books. If you’d like to read them.”

“Yeah, I would.” Fjord hurries back towards the shelves, returning a moment later with two books. He sets them on the counter, handing Caleb his card, and curiously asks, “What’s your name?”

“Hmmm?”

“Your name? I figure, I’m in here a lot. I probably should have asked your name a while ago.” He flushes and says, “I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s…” Caleb sighs, dragging his name plate out of his desk drawer. “I tend to remove it from the desk. So, you know, I can avoid answering questions.”

“You’re not much of a people person are you?”

Caleb shrugs, handing the books back to Fjord. “Books I get; people are just…” he shrugs again. “Enjoy your books, Fjord.”

“Thank you, Caleb.”

It’s the first time Fjord’s ever said his name; Caleb can’t lie. He likes the way he says his name.

Fjord returns two days later, sans his books, with a perfectly good plan in mind. He’s going to march up to Caleb’s desk, say hi, and then ask him politely if he wants to get coffee sometime. It’s a good plan, despite what Molly, Jester, and Beau said, and he’s not going to mess it up.

His heart sinks when he finds a tall woman sitting behind the desk, typing something on the computer, her dark hair pulled back into a ponytail, white strands of hair hanging down on either side of her face. She looks up when Fjord approaches the desk and says, “Can I help you?”

“Uh, where’s-” Fjord trails off, taking a breath. “Is Caleb here?”

“He has the day off,” the woman replies, scratching at the black tattoo running down her chin. “He’ll be back tomorrow.”

“O-okay.” Fjord nods, turning to leave the library, stopping short when the door opens and Caleb walks inside.

They stare at each other for way too long, neither one saying anything, the moment breaking only when Yasha asks, “Who comes into work on their day off?”

Caleb shrugs, ruffling his hair. “I ran out of books.”

Yasha looks between the two men, a knowing smile on her face, and she mutters, “I seriously doubt that.”

“Can I talk to you?” Fjord asks, ignoring Yasha’s comment, and Caleb nods.

Yasha picks up a pair of headphone, cramming them on her head, and a loud guitar rift suddenly emits from the speakers. She looks back at the computer, staring intently at whatever is on the screen, and Fjord can’t help the amused huff that escapes his lips. She’s not very subtle.

“What’d you want to talk about?” Caleb asks curiously, crossing his arms.

“Uh, I just…” the light drifts across Caleb’s face and Fjord’s breath caught in his throat. “Gods, you’re beautiful.”

Face turning a fierce red, Caleb whispers, “What?”

“I, I didn’t…” Ears burning, Fjord coughs, running his palm across the back of his neck. “I didn’t mean to say that out loud.” Mutely, Caleb nods, looking down at his feet.

“No, wait, I did,” Fjord says quickly, crossing the few steps to stand in front of Caleb. “You are; you are so beautiful.”

“I’m not.”

“You are,” Fjord insists, hesitating for a moment before resting his hand against Caleb’s cheek, slowly brushing his thumb against his skin. Caleb leans into the touch, closing his eyes, warm breath stuttering against Fjord’s palm.

This hadn’t been part of Fjord’s plan; this is so far from Fjord’s plan. He had a perfectly good plan; what happened to the plan?

Screw the plan. He leans forward, resting his forehead against Caleb’s, and he softly asks, “Is it okay if I kiss you?”

Swallowing heavily, Caleb nods, elation soaring through Fjord’s chest. He isn’t sure who kisses who first, but it’s sweet and nice and he’s never following any of his plans ever again.

Behind him, he swears he hears Yasha murmur, “About damn time.”

When they break apart, Caleb breaths softly against his cheek and whispers, “I lied.”

“What?”

“About the books you wanted. We had all of them.”

Fjord laughs quietly, pressing his forehead against Caleb’s again, and he says, “I’m glad you did.”

They kiss again, much longer this time, but they break apart when Yasha clears her throat and says, “As happy as this moment is for you, I’m pretty sure it’s frowned upon to make out in a public place. Just saying.”

Fjord nods, still impossibly close to Caleb, and softly asks, “Wanna get out of here?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

#widofjord #critical role #modern au #caleb widogast #fjord #thank you again anon #my fics #i'm going to be honest i probably could have done better trying to find increasingly difficult books

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bluejayfeathersandwillowtrees · 4 years ago

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Midnight Missive #2

I’m not going to pretend for even a second that my 2020 has been that difficult in comparison to so many others’ year. If this year has given me anything, it’s more perspective. Working with the public through a pandemic, and with my Dad working in a hospital, I had to face the fact that my odds were not great from the start. It made me consider my own mortality in a way I never had before.

With depression, the concept of dying (on my terms, at least) was something that I had gone over and over in my mind like a well-worn book. A book I’m thankful I haven’t picked up to look at in a very long time, but anyone that’s been there knows you don’t really forget the words. I had made my peace with that, but this was a completely different feeling. The idea of my health, my life, being wrenched away from me terrified me. The fact that to the company I work for and the government, I was “essentially” worthless, and my health and safety was only relevant to the extent that I was making them money infuriated me. Somewhere in all of this, a mental and emotional fight or flight kicked in. Who knew it would take the world literally and figuratively on fire to make me realize I wanted to live (for sure this time)?

As I took stock of my small life, the sense of how deeply I had buried my dissatisfaction surfaced and seeped into every aspect of my life. None of this is what I wanted. I had shut down hoping I would get used to it, that this was the best I could do. I had stood still for so long time had flown by with very little progress. My depression kicked in for a bit, or maybe it was a sort of grief for time lost that I couldn’t get back. I let myself sink until I surfaced again.

I came back with a tenacity that surprised even me. I couldn’t fix it all, especially with the way things were (and still are), but by gods, I could plan. Careful lists were made, giving way to braver lists. It felt good to feel even a little productive, even if I had to drag my anxiety kicking and screaming. I picked something small to start with, walking the dog everyday to get some fresh air, and stuck with it. It became a ritual that helped me clear my head after work, and keeping track of all the flowers’ progress each day gave me something to look forward to.

I used a week of my vacation to complete another list. I reorganized and painted my room and bathroom. [Author’s Note: Moving out is absolutely on the bigger list of things to do for reasons you’ll read later. Currently I’m just focusing on saving up as much money as I can, and working on getting in the headspace to finally leave. I want to do this right. I don’t want to mess things up and come back, you know? There’s quite a bit more to all of this but that’s a missive for another midnight.] I cleared out and donated a ton of stuff, bought another bookshelf, got a new bedspread and new curtains. It was a small exercise in letting myself make and take up space unapologetically, and I’m trying to apply it to more of my life.

While I’m certainly proud of myself for the above and everything else that I managed to accomplish in a year that put limits on what I could reasonably do, I still feel like it’s not enough. The persistent self-doubt and criticism has been pervasive every step of the way. Sometimes just getting through the day is tiring, but trying to grow? Growth is exhausting. Depression and anxiety got their way far more days this year than I would have preferred, especially the tail end of this year.

Around October, the wheels came off, and I had to come to terms with some truths I’ve been trying to avoid for some time. With the election (finally) approaching, the constant walking on eggshells at work and at home had me on edge most days. Both of my parents (and most of my family sadly) are republicans, and usually I just keep my head down and my mouth shut when politics come up, it’s not my house after all. But this was different. Almost every day my parents would purposely bring it into the conversation just to try and argue with me.

In one of these situations, my dad said something that went right through me: He thought Trump was a terrible person, but he was voting for him because his 401k had never looked better. How could anyone look at everything wrong with the past four years, the reprehensible things he and his administration has said and done, and that be the takeaway? It’s even harder when you know my dad, he has always been the one people know that they can count on.

The dichotomy of that still has me frustrated and flummoxed. Not just him, but too many people I know. These are people I’ve known my whole life, people that taught me to be a good person, and are so quick to help a person in need that I’ve always been in awe of them. These are not the people that raised me, or at least not who they raised me to be. The speed with which they are willing to shrug off the struggles of others that they don’t know and dehumanize anyone they disagree with has been an education in how little we really know anyone. It’s caused me to review everything they told me. I’ll never stop loving my family, and I know they love me, but things will never be the same. I’ve never really felt like I fit in or belonged here, and up until recently, I just told myself it was my anxiety and depression messing with me. But now I know I actually don’t, and despite the deep validation it’s provided, it’s also stung me to my core.

In short, they broke my heart. I sank again.

I haven’t really surfaced since. There were (and more so now) so many people out there sick and struggling, and the sense of guilt for being so unhappy when I’ve been so lucky has permeated everything. But I have never been this unhappy. I never thought these hills could make me sad. I’ve tried to just focus on work and getting through the holidays, but with the new year almost upon me, the obligatory sense of needing to have a plan weighs heavy. With everything going on, and current mental state, my options are limited. I daydream about leaving almost every day, and I hope one day I will. I’m not in a place to make big plans right now, so I’ve decided to focus on other things. What will I do? I will keep working and save as much money as I can, try to live as well as I can to my values, and work on overcoming (or at least slightly taming) my anxiety.

Until then, I’ll keep pouring my heart out to an empty room. It’s the only thing that gives me peace.

#midnight missives #writing #personal #sorry its so long #not that anyone is reading these

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carolunea-matea · 7 years ago

Text

Put Me In Coach

Chapter Three

Lunea pulled her legs up under her and faced the man that she used to know like family.

“What do you need to know, Coach?”

“Coach, is going to take getting fucking used to again. What kind of skills do you have? Other than being fast as lightening and tiny enough to squeeze into small spaces?”

“Oh, I can cook, sew, clean. I ran inventory management at a warehouse before everything went to shit. Set up the protocols and the entire system. Not that that skill does me any fucking good now. But I was damn good at it.”

“Inventory management, huh? Know what my least favorite thing to fucking do here is? Fucking inventory. How about you take a look at our books and see what you can do? If you can handle it, maybe that will be your role here. I’ll get you set up with your own desk and maybe find you a room you can use as an office and living quarters,” Negan seemed excited about the prospect of not having to deal with that shit anymore.

“A desk job? Desk jobs still fucking?” Lunea was stunned.

“Well they fucking do here! We’ve got to keep track of everything we get from the other communities and make sure we haven’t been stiffed. Now I run a tight ship here, sweetheart. I’ve had to bash a few skulls in since this all went down. But my people are safe. As long as no one breaks any rules, me and Lucille here don’t have to get messy.”

Lunea gulped. She had heard of a community where the leader was harsh and violent. That couldn’t be Coach, could it?

“Simon, get some people to bring a desk and furnish the empty room next to my office as living quarters. After that is set up, meet me in my office instead of my room. I’m gonna show Ribbons here the books”

“You got it, boss. Bed, bookshelf, fridge, and radio?”

“Sounds like a start. Deck it the fuck out.”

“Wait. Radio? Are you fucking serious? Well damn. Hope my work is satisfactory, Coach.”

A few minutes later, after Negan gave Lunea slippers to wear since her boots were practically falling apart, they were back in his office.

Lunea was sitting in the desk chair while Negan perched on the desk.

“Coach, this is a fucking mess! I’m going to need to see the actual supplies and re- inventory everything.”

Negan groaned but Lunea was smiling.

“This is going to be so much fun!”

“You and I have very different ideas of fun, Ribbons,” Negan said his voice slightly husky.

She laughed just as Simon and Eugene walked in.

“Got the room started, Boss. Didn’t know what kind of food to put in there so there is just some water and fruit for now.”

“Fan fucking tastic! Boys, this here is Ribbons, she is our new inventory manager. Ribbons, this is Eugene and my right-hand man Simon. Eugene, I want you to give Ribbons the tour. Set her up with whatever she says she needs for her work, a walkie, and some clothes. Simon, I need to talk to you privately.”

“I’ll see you later Coach?”

“Damn right you will! Eugene, bring Ribbons here down to eat when you’re done. Radio me when you are on your way. And don’t worry about how much shit costs. Right now, Ribbons has unlimited credit.”

“Understood, Sir. Right this way, ma’am.”

Lunea clapped her hands like a little kid before jumping up and throwing her arms around Negan.

“Thank you so much, Coach! I’ll make you proud!”

Negan lightly returned the hug, chuckling a little.

“Now, Ribbons, I have a reputation to uphold! You keep acting like that everyone is going to think I’ve gone soft.”

Lunea let go quickly and straightened up.

“Yes, Sir! Sorry, Sir!” She turned and followed Eugene out the door.

“That woman is something else,” Negan shook his head and looked at Simon.

“I need you to keep an eye out for four men…”

Lunea gawked at the mess that was the warehouse.

“How the fuck is anything tracked properly here?!? This is going to take weeks,” Lune dug through some boxes and found a pair of sneakers that fit, a pad of paper and a pen. She then sat down right on the floor and started making lists. She knew they couldn’t have everything she would need, but she’d make due.

She had nearly filled the entire pad by the time Eugene was clearing his throat.

“We need to get down to lunch ma’am”

Lunea looked up shocked.

“Wow, ok, I’ll let coach know we’re on our way.”

She switched her walkie on for the first time, “Negan, Sir?”

“Ribbons?”

“Yes, Sir. We are on our way to go eat.”

“Alright. Meet you there.”

Lunea grabbed her stuff and sprung up ready to go.

Negan was waiting for them in front of the canteen.

“So, Ribbons, how did it go?”

“It’s a fucking nightmare down there! What did you do? Just let them throw shit wherever they want? This is going to take weeks! Fuck I’m excited! But I’m going to need a lot of shit that I’m sure you don’t have.”

“Write me out a list. If it’s out there we will get it. Now let’s eat. I’m fucking starving!”

Negan walked to the front of the line and grabbed two trays of food. He led Lunea over to a table and sat down.

“I passed a Walmart on my way here. Probably a 5-6 hour walk from here. They should have most of what I need and then some. But it’s crawling with the dead.”

“That’s not a fucking problem! I’ll get people on it!”

Lunea nodded her head clearly impressed while eating her soup.

“You ready to see your new quarters, Ribbons? Ribbons?” Negan chuckled. The woman had fallen asleep with her head on her arms.

“Well, Ribbons, looks like it’s time to get you tucked in.”

Negan passed Lucille to Simon and picked up Lunea. He got her into her bed and left her a note.

“Hey Ribbons,

Took the stuff you wrote down. Gonna go over it and get the lists of supplies out. I’ll be right next door in my office. Stop in when you get up.

-Coach”

Lunea rolled over and stretched. When she realized she was in a bed she sat straight up, confused. As she looked around her room it all came back to her. Fucking unbelievable! She walked around checking out her new room when she saw the note from Negan on her desk. She brushed her teeth, fixed her bed head and headed out her door.

She pushed open the slightly ajar door and…

“Oh Jesus! Fucking hell! Sorry Coach! God damn!”

Right there on his desk Negan was fucking a woman. Lunea could hear his laugh while she covered her eyes and exited as fast as possible.

“I’ll come get you when I’m finished, Ribbons!” He called after her still laughing.

She waved a hand in acknowledgment and kept moving.

Holy fuck! But god damn coach had a nice ass.

She shook her head and sat at her desk starting to reorganize the inventory books. She had been at it a while; her vision was getting blurry and her temples hurt. What she wouldn’t give for her reading glasses right now. She walked over to get a glass of water before sitting back down and rubbing her temples.

“Oh, it wasn’t that fucking bad was it, Ribbons?” Negan was leaning against her door frame smirking.

“What? Oh, Fuck. No. I have a fucking migraine from staring at this shit without glasses on. Haven’t thought about needing them in a damn long while.”

“Hmmm. Well I’ll look into finding you some then. Now, about what you walked in on. I have wives, a group of women that are under my protection here. And when I’m finding myself rather…”

“No need to explain. People have their needs. Kinda fucking weird that you have more than one wife, but things are all fucking weird, now aren’t they? I mean I’m not down for the whole ‘sharing my man’ thing. I’m too greedy for that shit. Anyways, I was coming to find you like you asked. Since you were…occupied, I started working on these books. I think the easiest way to do them will be to have to separate systems that work as one. Inventory what comes in from each group and then collaborate it in a master sheet. That way you know what each group brought in and then everything you have together. Separate that into categories in the warehouse. Food, household, personal care, medical, so on and so forth. I started a book for each of the groups and was about to start the master sheet when my eyes went all wonky.” Lunea leaned back in her chair and looked up at her former coach seeming quite pleased with herself.

“Well, fuck, Ribbons! Look at you! Already got shit rolling and not even 24 hours on the job! Let’s go get some food! I’m fucking famished!”

Chapter 2 Chapter 4

Master List

@catlovescat @neganandblake @likearaindropfilledwithgoldust @negans-network @ask-kakashihatake @idk-wtf-is-happening @collette04

#negans network #the walking dead negan #twd negan #negan fic #negan x oc #negan fanfiction #negan #negans thirst squad

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worldbestdiy · 4 years ago

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DIY | Quick Ways to Refresh Your Home on a Budget | Creative DIY Project Ideas

DIY | Easy Ways to Refresh Your Home on a Budget | Homemade DIY Projects

If you’re ready to fall in love with your home all over again, be sure to add the following:

Clean up your kitchen cabinets. Spruce up cabinets with a fresh coat of paint or stain spruce up your front door — things like a fresh coat of paint, a new knocker, or even a shiny knob work wonders.

DIY Project Details: worldbestdiy.com.blog

Give Love to Your Walls. Refresh your walls with vibrant colors. Pick a room in your home and designate it the “summer room.

” Repaint, refresh and rejuvenate the walls with a luscious, incredible hue found in vibrant summer bloom. Muted yellows, soft blues, and vibrant greens are great choices.

Recycle fabrics and textiles. Lighten up any room by trading heavy fabrics for light and airy ones.

In the living room, for example, take down your old drapes and replace them with an open weave such as chiffon or organza.

Change out dark throw pillows and slipcovers by adding crisp white, bright solid, or even modern, floral patterns.

DIY Project Details: worldbestdiy.com.blog

Bring the beach into your home in a simple way. Buy some synthetic coral from your local aquarium or fish store.

It lasts longer than real coral, is more eco-friendly, comes in amazing colors, and costs a lot less.

Try mounting coral on wooden stands, framing them, or using them as centerpieces for your dining room table. Or try a giant clamshell as a decorative bowl.

DIY | Quick Ways to Refresh Your Home on a Budget | Creative DIY Project Ideas

Fix up an old ceiling fan. Have new blades installed, or just clean out and repaint the old ones. Not only will the fan look more attractive, but your air quality will also improve. Let the sunshine in. The strategic placement of a mirror can add an enormous amount of natural light in your home. If possible, hang a large mirror in the living room directly where the sunbeams in. In addition to bouncing light, it creates virtual space and overall appeal to a small room. Replace Your Hardware, Kitchen Cabinets, and Hardware like a new faucet, and even door handle hardware can make on your overall aesthetic. And your options for this are both endless and affordable.

DIY Project Details: worldbestdiy.com.blog

A statement wall is a killer way to make a major change without spending much time or effort to do it. And they have a special knack for making your design look more rich and dynamic.

you can simply paint one wall your favorite color. If you’re worried about making a commitment you might regret, then consider that there are a ton of beautiful removable wallpaper options out there that you can take advantage of without committing too much.

Update Your Window Treatments, Window Treatments in Living Room

If your room is a photo, your window treatments are the frame, so switching these up is a super simple move that can completely transform the look of your space.

Throw Pillows in Living Room. Throw pillows are basically makeup for your living room—you can switch and swap them depending on your mood and the season, and the effect is nothing short of transformative.

If your space is feeling a little dull, consider adding a few pillows in vibrant colors to bring more uplifting vibes. And if you’re moving toward a boho aesthetic, then adding pillows featuring organic hues and textures, like these from Kaekoo Shop, is a great way to go.

DIY Project Details: worldbestdiy.com.blog

Bring in a New Rug. Rugs have a special ability to add warmth and definition to the spaces they’re in. So, if you’re looking to redefine your space, there’s no better way to do it than with a new area rug.

You can artfully arrange a few floating shelves to showcase some of your favorite knick-knacks, add a big piece of statement art, or create a chic and sophisticated gallery wall.

Change Up Your Bedding. Your bed is essentially the centerpiece of your bedroom. Therefore, if you’re looking to bring some more life to your bedroom design, then there’s no better way to do it than by updating your bedding.

DIY Project Details: worldbestdiy.com.blog

DIY | Cheap Redesign Tips | Creative DIY Project Ideas

IKEA sells ridiculously affordable sheepskin rugs that you can use to transform ordinary barstools, chairs, and sofas into luxe, Scandinavian-inspired pieces. We love the look of the wool in contrast with industrial, iron furnishings.

Download Apps…Shop pre-owned furnishings and décor on mobile apps like OfferUp and LetGo. They make finding used pieces at low prices almost too easy.

On the spectrum of home décor styles, eclectic designs are often the easiest to replicate.

Why? The look is all about mixing—and not matching. Since there’s no need to find a specific side table, or that exact shade of blue, shopping for furniture and décor will be much more affordable.

Shop on Craigslist…You can find great deals for pieces on Craigslist for a number of reasons: Sellers don’t know the value, sellers are eager to sell, stores are liquidating, or something is brand new and strategically listed for less than retail.

Update Your Kitchen Hardware…Purchasing and installing stylish hardware is an affordable way to make your kitchen feel brand new overnight. Head to CB2, West Elm, Target, or Home Depot for handles and knobs that will transform your space on a budget.

Install Sconces…Replacing a few lamps with plug-in sconces is a task that’s so much simpler than it sounds. Plus, you’ll be left with a more modern look that you can personalize to your liking.

Stock Up on Candles…Candles are an affordable feature that can seriously shift the mood and atmosphere of space for the better. For a really elevated look, search for candles that come in stylish holders rather than those with loud labels.

DIY Project Details: worldbestdiy.com.blog

Hang a New Shower Curtain…An often underrated piece of décor, the shower curtain is likely the most decorative item in your bathroom. If space is feeling dated, start by searching for a new curtain to hang.

Add a Table Runner to Your Dining Room Table…When a bare dining table feels too minimal but a tablecloth seems too formal, opt for a simple table runner. It’s a small (and usually pretty cheap) accessory that instantly dresses up the dining room for any event.

If you live in an apartment or a small house, it might be worth rethinking how you use your square footage to give yourself as much open space as possible. “Space is the biggest luxury,” she says. “But you can create space, or the illusion of space, by moving things around.”

If there are pieces of furniture or household items that you don’t use and are taking up space, think about moving them out of the way. You could store them in an attic or garage, or put under your bed or in your closet. The same goes for items on countertops and tables—try to clear unnecessary stuff off so you feel like there’s more empty space.

DIY Project Details: worldbestdiy.com.blog

Add Trim to Your Curtains

Instead of buying new curtains, invest in what you already own by adding an iron-on trim to basic curtain panels.

Paint the Floors…A good floor paint won’t cost you much more than any regular interior paint and you can use it to create the look of linoleum or vinyl floors at a fraction of the cost.

Garage and estate sales are great places to score cheap home décor and furniture, but stumbling upon one is a rarity. If you have the time (and energy), you can track down nearby garage sales and map out their locations on a Friday night so you’re prepared for the Saturday morning rush. Don’t forget to bring cash!

Pick Out a New Lamp Shade

This small detail can make a big difference. Treat yourself to a fresh lampshade to give new life to an older piece.

Invest In Chic Kitchen Storage

DIY Project Details: worldbestdiy.com.blog

Keeping your pasta, rice, cereal, and other pantry items in stylish glass or plastic containers are sure to make you feel like you have your life together. Whether tucked away or on display, they look pretty good, too.

Upgrade Your Bedding

You don’t have to replace everything, but even something as simple as a new duvet cover can give your bedroom a contemporary look.

Reorganize Your Bookshelf

If your bookshelf has deteriorated into a place to hold anything and everything you don’t have a designated place for, it’s time to purge. Get rid of the clutter and then have fun with the way you organize what’s left. Perhaps you stack your books according to color or spruce things up with some new bookends.

Add a Rug

While a rug may seem like a major investment, you’d be surprised how many cheap options are hiding at retailers like Target, Wayfair, and Amazon.

Use a Chair as an End Table

If you have an old chair that no longer fits in with the rest of your décor, repurpose it as a nightstand or end table. You can even give it a fresh coat of paint to make it work in the new setting.

DIY Project Details: worldbestdiy.com.blog

Buy Fresh Flowers

Fresh flowers instantly bring a home to life with their vibrant colors, fragrant scent, and sophisticated look. Invest in a nice vase and replenish your bunch with a few extra bucks at the market each week.

Frame Family Photos

Turn your personal memories into art by printing out a few photos on high-quality materials and styling them with nice frames. Make a gallery wall or simply display a few shots on a console table or bookshelf.

#Homemade DIY Projects DIY Handmade Creative DIY Project Ideas

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myaekingheart · 5 years ago

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93. Permission

It was so strange to think his time in this place was limited. Kakashi had never thought much of his apartment—it didn’t seem overly important—but now that he was leaving, his perspective had shifted into something all too nostalgic. He stood in the center of that tiny studio and drank in all of the strange, ethereal memories, some of which he had never expected to cling to in the first place. Simple things like one morning when the sun was especially bright or having accidentally dropped a pen behind his desk only to retrieve it now, months later. At first, he wasn’t sure what it was about this that was making him so emotional but then he thought of her and how her presence changed this place. As he began organizing the rest of his things into boxes, he’d find little reminders of her scattered here and there: a stray hair tie, a bok she had left behind, the chakra plant she had given him. And then there was the most pressing piece of all: that engagement ring.

Kakashi propped open the box to inspect it, ensuring it was still in as good a condition as when he first received it. He studied the iridescence of the mounted pearl in the sunlight and his heart swelled. He had waited so long. Their future was right before them now, just waiting for them to embrace it. How much longer could he stand to procrastinate? He wasn’t sure but the one thing he did know was that he was ready. He was ready to kneel down before her and ask her to spend the rest of her life with him. To become his wife.

He would have to tread carefully, however. Once they had moved in together, it would be significantly harder to hide his plans. As anxious as he was, Kakashi truly did not want to rush this. A proposal was a big deal, it wasn’t something just done on a whim. He needed to ensure the moment would be special. Rei deserved nothing less. As such, this would require careful preparation, perfect timing, and above all else a sense of decorum. Kakashi respected tradition, as did Rei’s family. He hated to think of Rei as anyone’s property but he knew that if he was going to do ths right, he would have to ask for permission. It was a daunting task for sure. Kakashi looked to the ring once more for added strength before snapping the box shut and sliding it into his pouch. He sucked in a deep breath before he stepped outside and made his way to Kaminoki.

The little bell above the door chimed as he slipped inside, Hana standing at the register checking out an elderly man who had nearly wiped the shelf of manuals clean. “My wife always took care of the technical things” the old man explained. “Since she passed on, everything in the house has started to break and I don’t know how to fix it!”

“I’m so sorry for your loss” Hana said softly, reaching a comforting hand out across the counter. Her eyes, however, were glancing to Kakashi as he waved at her quietly and slowly approached. He was not about to interrupt or rush the conversation, though his anxiety was certainly mounting.

The old man seemed completely oblivious to the new customer. He simply shook his head and laughed a bittersweet little laugh. “I think she’s haunting me” he replied. “She knows I can’t fix things for shit and so she’s going around in the afterlife breaking things on purpose just to give me a hard time.”

Hana smiled politely. “Well at least you can take solace in knowing she’s still with you” she said.

Nodding wistfully, Kakashi caught the old man tearing up for a moment before suddenly becoming hyperaware of his surroundings. He glanced back, slightly startled, before nodding to Kakashi and saying quietly, “You youngsters shouldn’t take your youth for granted.” He gathered his books and prepared to leave but not without some parting words to the copy ninja. Placing a hand on his forearm, the old man looked Kakashi in the eyes and said, “If you’ve got a girl, love her like you’re never going to see her again, you understand? Treat her like she’s the best thing that’s ever happened to you. Because one day all that’ll be left of her is her ghost knocking over vases and fucking with the cogs of your alarm clock.” He glanced over his shoulder, thanked Hana for her help, and then disappeared down the street leaving Kaminoki in a strange, ethereal afterglow. How ironic the way his words segued into the exact matter at hand. Kakashi cleared his throat and shuffled forward.

“I wasn’t expecting to see you here this early, Kakashi” Hana greeted politely. She shuffled though the paperwork on the counter, reorganizing the week’s roster of purchases. She seemed mildly frazzled as if Kakashi’s unannounced presence left her anxious abou why he was there. “Can I help you find anything?” she asked.

Kakashi shook his head. “Actually, I was wondering if you had a minute to talk about something” he replied. Hana met his gaze slowly, her curiosity piquing. “It’s kind of important” Kakashi added. His voice wavered ever so slightly, indicating that something was clearly amiss. Hana was not sure she had the strength to deal with this, whatever it was. The morning crowd outside began to thicken.

Her hesitancy was obvious as she skirted around the counter and approached the door, flipping the open sign to closed. Yuruganai would be frustrated but this was far more important. Morning sales were never that crucial, anyway. “I can only give you half an hour” Hana said apologetically. There was a slight tremor in her hands, a softness to her voice.

“That’s fine” Kakashi reassured. “I don’t plan to take up much of your time.” Hana nodded once, then motioned for him to follow her up the stairs. There was no reason to conduct private business in a public space, even if it was temporarily restricted. She always said that books were like people—they listened when you spoke and hoarded your secrets. Kakashi never knew what she meant by that but wasn’t about to infringe on her superstitions. He needed to be as agreeable as possible right now.

Yuruganai was hunched over his desk crunching numbers, biting his lip in concentration. His office was a suffocating concoction of strict organization crammed into what was once Rei’s bedroom. Some of her childhood furniture still remained—a bookshelf now cramped with financial binders, a row of stuffed animals collecting dust on the windowsill. It all felt so strange to see such a childish place outfitted with maturity, like a stack of 7-year olds in a trench coat binging bribes.

Hana hated to disrupt her husband like this but the further they ascened, the higher her anxiety hiked before reaching a fever pitch at the top of the stairs. She had considered Kakashi something of an authority on their daughter’s wellbeing ever since she had joined the ANBU. His mutual presence was really the only thing that kept her sane. The unfortunate side effect was expecting the worst in strange situations such as this. Hana cleared her thoat once, twice, three times before Yuruganai finally looked up. “We have a guest” she said, motioning toward Kakashi. “And he says he has something important he’d like to speak with us about.” Her wringing her hands only emphasized her painfully forced smile.

Yuruganai frowned, glancing from his wife to Kakashi and back over the top of his glasses. He really didn’t have time for this. His only reason for reconsideration was his wife’s palpable paranoia. With that in mind, he supposed he had no other choice. Sighing, Yuruganai laboriously rose from his seat and flung his pen across the desk. “Make it quick” he grumbled, walking past them into the living room. Hana and Kakashi exchanged uncertain glances before following closely behind.

Hana seated herself beside her husband on the couch, rigid with tension. “So, Kakashi, what exactly is all of this about?” she asked. A stream of worst case scenarios flickered through her head. “Is something the matter? Is there something wrong with Rei?”

“No, that’s not it at all!” he frantically assured. He had never intended to make them worry, though it was obvious to him how he had. This was starting off terribly. He searched their faces for a hint of empathy, hoping he had not failed irrevocably yet.

“Then what’s the problem?” Yuruganai spat. “We don’t have all day.”

“Yuri, dear, the numbers can wait” Hana whispered. She rested a gentle hand on his forearm in hopes of halting his departure. “Kakashi, please, you’re scaring us. What is all of this about?”

The panic in her face, and the growing frustration on Yuruganai’s, served as a grave reminder that Kakashi was running out of time. His throat felt tight and his hands were going numb and a part of him wanted to run away and never look back but he could not let fear get the best of him. If he wanted this—really, truly wanted this—he would have to face the situation head-on. It was the only way. And besides: if he couldn’t handle a simple request, then how did he ever expect to make it through the rest of life’s challenges with Rei by his side? To be an admirable husband, and eventually father? And especially a decent son-in-law? Kakashi swallowed back his fear, sucked in a sharp breath, and seated himself in the nearby armchair. He leaned forward, a sign of his determined intent, and then began his spiel.

“I’m sorry for worrying you” he began. “Nothing is wrong—actually, it’s quite the opposite. I need to speak with you about Rei. I…I care about your daughter. More than words can ever say. I know things haven’t always been perfect but I made a promise to protect her and I fully intend to keep that promise for as long as I live.” Yuruganai leaned his head back and rolled his eyes, but his disgust only fueled Kakashi further. “I’ll admit” he continued, “for a long time I held such dark thoughts about life and the future but when I’m with her, she makes me excited. She makes me feel like my life is worth living and I hope I do the same for her. I really can’t imagine my life without her. She’s everything I’ve ever wanted—smart, funny, passionate, even wonderfully weird. She—”

Growing impatient, Yuruganai groaned and swatted the air. “If all you’re going to do is sit here and sing your praises, I don’t need to hear anymore of it” he snapped. “I have work to do.” Kakash could feel himself slowly unravelling as Yuruganai shifted impatiently. He searched the old man’s face for even a morsel of compassion but found none. Kakashi’s heart sped up. His stomach churned. It wasn’t supposed to be this way.

“Mr. Natsuki, please” he begged. “Just give me one more minute of your time.” He needed to make this right. He needed to act fast. The timer was nearing zero.

“And why should I?” Yuruganai asked, his tone edging into mocking territory now. “Why should I waste my time when you’re saying nothing of substance?”

“Because I’m in love with your daughter, sir” Kakashi replied, voice stern and powerful. His words dripped with ingenuity.

Yuruganai scoffed, unimpressed. “You can sit here and tell us how much you love her all day, but it’s nothing but white noise” he replied. Hana yelped his name and clutched her hands to her chest. Yuruganai shot his wife a sharp glare as if warning her not to get involved. Kakashi almost felt bad for her, stuck in the middle of things like this. She appeared so meek and helpless. Yuruganai rose from his seat and she was powerless to stop him. “Now if you’d excuse me…”

As he turned to walk away, Kakash could feel himself lose it completely. The whole world seemed to shift into slow motion as he reached out to grip Yuruganai’s wrist. His hands felt clammy and unsure but he didn’t care. Yuruganai paused and turned to glare at his guest, and in that moment nothing felt real anymore. The words bubbled up into Kakashi’s mouth and burned the back of his throat until he felt like he was going to be sick, and there was a ringing in his ears, and his heart wouldn’t slow down, and the sun was too bright, and everything was just too much and my god, make it stop— “I would like permission to marry your daughter!”

The words spilled out automatically, blurted in desperation. The entire room fell silent and as scared as Kakashi was for the response, a wave of relief washed over him for having finally released it in the first place. The pressure in the pit of his chest began to relieve. His grip on Yuruganai’s wrist loosened as he stared blankly into Kakashi’s eyes. A long stretch of stillness passed and Kakashi began to wonder if this was genjutsu or something else. He could the feel the unnvering electricity pulsing through the air, between their bodies, the warning sign that something irrevocable was about to happen.

And then the silence broke. Hana clasped her hands over her mouth and whimpered, tears blurring her vision. Yuruganai snapped from his daze, blinking as he tried to comprehend the current situation.

“What did you just say…?” he snarled, instigating.

Kakashi released his grip and straightened his back. Now that he had said it once and overcame the initial fear of it, he was inundated with an overwhelming internal strength. He was asking for her hand in marriage and he had every right to do so. He loved her, goddammit, and he was willing to fight for that love with whatever it took. Confidently, he repeated, “I would like permission to marry your daughter.”

Yuruganai blinked and, after a beat of silence, began to laugh. “You want to marry my daughter?” he asked. “You’re really asking me if you can marry my daughter? Unbelievable!”

“Yuri!” Hana exclaimed, her voice cracking. “Yuri, dear, this is a good thing! Our baby…our little Rei…a bride…!” She could hardly contain her emotion. The tears streamed down her face now, her entire body racked with hysterically happy sobs. To think, their daughter was finally going to fulfill the destiny she was always meant to embrace. This was their reassurance, their one comfort in the world. Rei would get married, devote herself to the family, and put away those silly, dangerous shinobi dreams once and for all. Hana would no longer have to cry herself to sleep every night worrying that her daughter would face the same cruel fate as Naru. No, she would finally be safe. This was truly blessed news.

“No” Yuruganai insisted, descending into absolute fury. “No, you don’t get it. You think you can come into my home and ask to take away my daughter? After she’s already given away so much of herself? To you of all people?”

Hana sniffled and gripped her husband’s arm desperately. “Yuri, stop this!” she cried. “Kakashi has loved her for so long! I wouldn’t trust her to anyone else! Honestly! He knows her so well, Yuri, and he loves her so much. Please, just give him the blessing! Let him marry her and we can finally end this nightmare once and for all!”

“This nightmare?” Yuruganai laughed incredulously. “You think she can just mary her way out of this? Absolutely not! She spent her entire life busting her ass to become a ninja, she is not allowed to quit now! This is what she wanted and so this is where she stays! She can only have one or the other?”

Kakashi was drowning in the chaos of this entire interaction. The world around him was crumbling. How could he have possibly imagined this to go well? He felt stupid for being so naïve, for having such childish hopes. “Mr. Natsuki” he begged, though he could tell he was losing momentum. “I’m not going to force Rei out of her career if that’s what you’re insinuating. I am fully committed to supporting her dreams—”

“Where was this support twenty years ago, then?” Yuruganai interrupted. “Where was this support when she came home in tears because you told her to give up? When she’d end up bloody and bruised from pushing herself just so she could earn your approval? After all those years, how the hell do you think I will ever trust you with her? Hmm? How the hell do you expect me to believe you’ll take care of her? What are you going to do when you two fight, hmm? Are you going to rip her eye out, too? Or ignore her for ten years? Tell her she’s not good enough? Rip her heart out with that lightning of yours?” Kakashi clenched his fists at his sides, wincing. “You say you’ve changed but that’s a damn lie, Kakashi. Nobody ever changes. And you sit here and think you can ask me for permission to marry her, as if I don’t already know the way you’ll treat her for the rest of your life if I—”

“Yuruganai” a stern voice barked from the doorway. The whole room went silent except for the steady tapping of an old wooden cane. And then there, like a glowing savior out of the darkness, came Grandma Teiko. The look on her face read fury.

Kakashi watched as Grandma Teiko hobbled into the room, lips taut and eyes narrowed. She rested a hand on Hana’s shoulder, a gesture of comfort, an invitation to sit back and take a much needed breath. Hana graciously obliged. And then Teiko reached Yuruganai, glaring up at him, and smacked him hard wih her cane.

“Stop attacking the boy” she insisted. Yuruganai opened his mouth to protest but Teiko threatened to hit him yet again. Like a defiant child, he huffed and pouted and fell back onto the couch. When the old woman turned to Kakashi, her gaze was filled with nothing but kindness. She took the Copy Ninja’s hand, held it tightly within her own, and smiled. “So, Kakashi” she said softly. “I heard you want to marry Rei. Is that right?” Kakashi swallowed and nodded slowly. He suddenly felt as if he was seven again, newly abandoned by his suicidal father and caught in a rare moment of vulnerability. Teiko looked upon him the same way she had for thirty years now. There was never a hint of malice. She never expected anything of him that he was not equipped to provide. She squeezed his hand gently as she said, “I always knew this day would come. Ever since you and Rei first met, I knew you loved her. You were so young back then but still, so determined. You said you would be her ninja, remember? And protect her? It does my old heart good to know how true that still is.”

Kakashi bowed his head and for a moment, even thought he might cry. An ache grew in the very center of his chest, something nostalgic and hungry and intense. Grandma Teiko always had a way of washing away the grime of the world, creating a shield of empathy in its place. He refused to let himself break down, however. He refused to show such weakness in front of her parents but that pressure within his throat, the lingering sob, still remained. All he could manage to croak was a single, hoarse sentence: “I love her more than anything.”

“I know you do” Grandma Teiko replied, patting his hand. Her eyes sparkled and in that moment, she was magic. Like the fairy godmother summoned by an innate yearning, prepared to wave a wand and ensure that dreams came true. And that was just what she did. As she guided Kakashi lower to plant a kiss upon his masked cheek, she murmured, “And that is why I give you my blessing.”

And there it was: the one sentence Kakashi had been so desperate to hear. A laugh of happy disbelief broke past his lips as he pressed his hand to his forehead, gripped his headband where it overed his secondhand eye. Everything suddenly seemed so much brighter.

“You can’t do that!” Yuruganai protested. “I am the man of the house, I make the decisions, and my answer is no.”

Teiko frowned and swatted at the air. “Don’t be so pretentious” she said. Then, huffing, she added, “Though I do suppose it’s unfair to count my opinion as the only one with any real weight—despite how true it is. The only way to make this truly fair is to approach things diplomatically. Let’s have a vote then. I say yes. Hana, dear?”

Hana forced a shaky smile onto her lips, trying to compose herself. Nodding, she replied, “My answer is yes.”

Teiko then turned to Yuruganai with a smug grin. “That’s two for yes. I already know your answer is no, but it doesn’t really matter. You’re outnumbered, Yuri, and I know that’s language that you can, in fact, understand.” Yuruganai gritted his teeth, glaring back at his mother, but knew he couldn’t get away with saying anything. She hobbled over to him and patted him hard on the back, adding, “Besides, don’t you want your daughter to be happy? Then let her be happy! And don’t be such a stick in the mud or else no one is going to like you very much.”

Kakashi couldn’t help but laugh. God bless Grandma Teiko, this sweet old woman. He took her hands in his, overflowing with gratitude, and thanked her. “You have no idea how much this means to me” he whispered.

“Oh, I have some idea” Grandma Teiko winked. She cupped Kakashi’s cheek warmly and added, “Now go off and give that girl a ring. I’m sure she’ll be just thrilled. This is the way it was always meant to be, I’m sure of it, and I wish you both a lifetime of happiness.”

Overcome with emotion, Kakashi wrapped Grandma Teiko in his arms as a parting gift. Hana couldn’t help but leap in to join them. And then he was off.

The journey home felt unimaginable. Kakashi patted his pouch, the engagement ring tucked neatly inside, and his heart surged. The morning certainly did not go as he had planned, or even as he had hoped, but all that mattered now was that he had gotten the answer he was looking for. Or at least from Grandma Teiko. His interactions with Yuruganai still left him slightly unresolved. There was so much to consider. This was not just a singular isolated incident but the foundation for a new chapter in their lives. Would Yuruganai ever truly accept him as a son-in-law? The sting of rejection hurt but, much like a sunburn, would surely fade with time. And even better was the sweet relief of the aloe: Grandma Teiko’s approval. He trusted her wholly and respected her opinion above all else. It was impossible not to take her words to heart. The old woman had settled it. He was going to ask Rei to marry him, formally and officially. Now it was just a matter of finding the perfect moment.

#kakashi hatake #rei natsuki #the scarecrow and the bell #naruto #naruto oc #fanfiction

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