#something about buck always being left behind and tommy being kind of forced to leave

[rosetterer]

Tommy had to leave for army to get away from his father.

Tommy had to leave the army because he was gay.

Tommy had to leave the 118 to truly move on from Gerrard.

[certifiedbisexualdisaster]

Oh my god that last fic is making me feral. Because what if Lucy and Tommy could have what Buck and Eddie have. Give me that queerplatonic vibe with those two.

Give me Tommy who has a complicated relationship with women because of his history. Lucy who has a complicated relationship with men because of her brothers and her dad and the male-dominated space that she's found herself in.

Tommy who has never been attracted to women but pretended to be and Lucy who has always been attracted to men but it's burned her time and time and time and time again no matter what she does.

Lucy who left the 118 because she didn't see a place for herself in that family. Lucy who comes to Harbor because she's always felt like she's been chasing after something. Lucy who kissed Buck because she felt a kindred spirit in him, like two flames rising and rising and rising in search of some desperately needed oxygen.

Lucy who meets Tommy, who is open and confident and suave and handsome. Who she finds out is actually kind of closed off emotionally. He's really humble, to a fault, really. Self-deprecating, almost. Who uses humor and smooth little one-liners as a shield.

Lucy who clicks with him instantly, feels settled around him in a way she never has before. Harbor isn't a family like the 118, but she can feel this in her bones: it could be. If only the people there, those at the heart of this station, would just let it happen.

So she pokes and she prods and she plans. She learns everything she can about these people. She coaxes Tommy into drinks after shifts, jokes about the men she finds on Tinder, commiserates about being a first responder trying to find something and not quite knowing what (except she does know what, and she keeps dropping little hints like breadcrumbs on the trails they fly over to rescue missing hikers).

And Buck comes crashing in. That kindred spirit she had thought she'd found. The one she had to leave behind because she knew she didn't quite fit. The one she knows now fits with her, but on a different side of the puzzle. She'd been trying to force two edges together that looked like they should fit but didn't, not quite, only to realize she was holding the pieces upside down and backwards.

And she can see that Tommy is so gone on him. That Buck maybe feels the same way, but is maybe having a hard time reconciling that. And she gets it. God, does she get it. But she hopes and she pokes a little harder and starts to nuzzle herself a little deeper under Tommy's shadow and he's starting to look back, she can tell, he's starting to see what he could have if he just lets it happen.

And then something... shatters. And he rebuilds. And he shutters the windows and shuts the blinds and locks the doors and throws away the key. So she has to start digging, again. She breaks out her rusty spoon and claws her way through, just enough to make a hole to slip through.

And Tommy... he finally lets it happen.

[izzielizzie]

could u do a short Rosalind and Tommy fic?

This is by no means short and also it’s not that great but enjoy anyway! Also? the football coach? Definitely took some inspiration from my soccer coach. 

Tommy was having, to put it plainly, a terrible day.

It had started that morning, when he awoke to the most obnoxious bang he had ever heard. Not fully awake yet, Tommy jumped, falling out of his bed.

"Where's the canon?" Tommy mumbled, running his fingers through his rumpled dark hair. It took him a moment to realize that he wasn't talking to anyone. Tommy made the effort to scramble off the floor and venture out of his room, calling for his parents as he looked into the rooms of his house. Empty. He glanced out of the kitchen window and saw his older brother Nick in the driveway. "Nick?"

"Out here Kid!" Nick called back from the driveway.

"Obviously," Tommy mumbled. Nick was back from the military for a two month long vacation, something that had been as much of a surprise to Nick as it had been to his loved ones, and in the past three days Nick had managed to cause general chaos on their beloved Gardam Street.

Tommy pushed through the side door, bypassing the coat rack on his way out. This was his first mistake.

He stepped into the frigid early December air to see Nick staring into the hood of his car.

"What was that noise?" Tommy asked, stepping up next to his brother.

"The car, I -"

"Hello," a voice called from across the street, interrupting Nick. The brothers turned to see Rosalind, Skye, and Jane Penderwick trekking across the frost covered street to their house, Jane in the lead, waving at them. "Whoops," she said as she nearly slipped. Tommy saw Skye roll her eyes at Jane, but he looked past her at Rosalind. Tommy smiled at her, despite the intense shivering that overtook him. She looked adorable in her beige peacoat and black cap that looked a little like a beret, sitting jauntily atop her curls. Rosalind raised a hand to wave at him, and Tommy waved back.

"You're going to get a cold," Rosalind said as a way of greeting when the sisters reached Tommy and Nick.

"No I'm not," Tommy responded, pulling her into him for warmth anyway. She giggled and rested her head on his chest, her arms around his waist.

"So what happened to the car Geiger?" Skye asked, punching Nick in the shoulder gently.

"Not sure," Nick says truthfully.

"Maybe the battery was stolen. We know how to put it back," Jane said, peering into the car, mimicking Nick's stance.

"No we don't banana head," Skye said, kicking at Jane's slippers with her own. Unlike their older sister, Jane and Skye were still wearing pajamas underneath their heavy sweaters. "We know how to remove one though," Skye added as an afterthought.

"Maybe not mention that out loud," Tommy joked as the rest of the Penderwick family approached them, Batty and Ben in the lead, Ben holding his sister's hand.

Nick instantly turned to swing Ben high above his head. "How are you doing on this fine morning Bravo-Echo-November?"

"Golf-Oscar-Oscar-Delta," the boy giggled as Nick placed him on his shoulders.

"Ugh Nick, don't encourage him," Rosalind said from her place in her boyfriend's arms. "He's been using that alphabet for the past two days."

"Buck up Rosy, Ben's learning how to spell," Mr. Penderwick said, clapping Tommy on the shoulder.

"Car trouble?" Iantha asked pleasantly, the last one to arrive. Like her step-daughter, she was dressed in her day clothes.

"It would seem so Iantha," Nick said solemnly. He brightened instantly though. "How's the baby?"

Iantha smiled like she did every time Nick asked that question. "Very good at sapping my energy," she said with a smile as she put a hand on her stomach.

"My brother's gonna be as cool as you!" Ben informed Nick with a little clap.

"Ben dear, the baby might be a girl," Rosalind said, shaking Ben's little foot from his high perch.

"No," Ben said in his stubborn voice. Rosalind rolled her eyes, but Tommy knew she was not actually upset. She loved Ben too much for that.

"Well, how will you get to school Tommy?" Batty asked, speaking for the first time. Both Geiger brothers looked at each other, not considering Tommy's options for getting to school.

"Are your parents at work?" Mr. Penderwick asked. He was dressed for work too, and Tommy noticed the car keys dangling from his hand. Both boys nodded. Tommy turned to Rosalind.

"Can I go with you Rosy?"

Rosalind's face fell. "Oh Tommy I'm sorry, but I'm not going to school remember?"

Oh. Rosy had taken the day before winter vacation off to drive to Rhode Island to take a self-guided tour of Brown, a college on her list for years.

"I remember. It's okay."

"Tommy if you're ready Iantha and I can take you on our way to the university," Mr. Penderwick said.

"It'll have to be right now though," Iantha added. "We have to go to the kindergarten and the elementary school first to drop off Ben and Batty."

Tommy looked down to his pajamas and his bare feet, which were becoming numb. "I might not be ready in time," he said.

"Why you can walk with us!" Jane said brightly. “And tell us about Russian class and your football team!”

Skye rolled her eyes again. As a freshman, Jane was still too excited about being in high school, and her excitement oozed into everything she said and did. 

“But we need to leave soon too. I have a question for my physics teacher,” Skye added.

Tommy agreed, and the two families dispersed, leaving Tommy to quickly pull on his warmest clothes and brush his teeth. He decided to forego breakfast, since Skye was ringing their doorbell incessantly. 

“Hey Nick, where’s my hat?” Tommy called to his brother, who was getting ready to go back to bed after calling the towing company. 

“Mom sent it to the cleaners!” Nick called back over the doorbell. 

Right, Mrs. Geiger - fed up with the mud Tommy got on his winter clothes - decided to send all of his outerwear to the cleaner, forcing Tommy to wear one of Mr. Geiger’s old jackets. Tommy - after realizing that he could search for the hat and annoy Skye and himself or just leave - called goodbye to his brother and stepped out. It somehow had become even colder than it had been earlier. 

Tommy walked to school behind the sisters, letting their conversations drift towards him as he shivered violently. As they neared the school, Jane looked back at him. 

“Are you alright?”

“Just cold.”

“Shall I bathe your forehead?”

“Jane stop with the forehead bathing. Not all ailments need you and your cold washcloths,” Skye said giving Tommy an apologetic look. 

“Why do you always ask?” Tommy asked, genuinely curious.

“Because no one ever said yes,” Jane said irritably. 

Tommy shook his head at Jane as his stomach rumbled. He ignored it.

He spent the next three and a half hours ignoring his stomach until his lunch block. 

“I have never seen you walk so fast,” Brendan - one of his football teammates - said as they headed to the cafeteria. 

“I haven’t eaten all day,” Tommy responded.

“Why?”

“Long story,” Tommy responded as he fished around in his school bag for his wallet. Tommy searched for a few moments, growing more and more panicked until he realized that his wallet was always in his gym bag which was always swung over his left sh-

Wait.

“Brendan have you seen my gym bag?” Tommy asked frantically as they stepped forward in the lunch line.

“No, you didn’t have it with you in class.”

“Oh no,” Tommy said, realizing that he had put his gym bag in Nick’s car. 

“What?”

“It’s in Nick’s car.”

“Can’t you go to the main office and call him? I mean he remembers how scary Coach is. He’ll drive it over.”

“Yes he would, except his car was towed since a pipe burst or something.”

Brendan nodded wisely. “Always the pipe.”

Tommy shook his head in exasperation. “What do I do?”

Brendan put a placating hand on Tommy’s shoulder. “The team will pool our money, don’t worry, and we’ll deal with Coach when we cross that bridge.”

Between Brendan and their teammates, they managed enough money for an apple, a bag of pretzels, and a carton of milk, which Tommy only managed to eat before the bell rang for their next class.

“Alright students, pull out your group projects, we’re presenting today,” their history teacher was saying as Tommy and another of his teammates - Jackson - entered the room.

“Group projects?” Tommy asked Jackson as they sat in their seats in the middle of the room. Tommy usually sat in the back, but Rosalind was in the class and she liked to sit in the front, so they compromised. 

“Yeah. About the Silk Road? Remember? You worked with Rosalind.”

“And she’s not here,” Tommy whispered harshly, briefly wondering how his day could have gotten this bad. 

Jackson made a face of comprehension. “Sorry Geiger, you’re on your own.”

They turned to their teacher as he started speaking. “Going alphabetically, Tommy Geiger and Rosalind Penderwick are first to present.”

With a sigh, Tommy raised his hand. “Yes?”

“Sir, Rosy - that is, Rosalind isn’t here today.”

Their teacher sighed. “Then present on your own please.”

“But, Rosalind has the project.”

“Why didn’t she give it to you?”

“She must have... I mean, I must have forgotten.”

“You forgot?” The look Tommy was receiving was worse than any of Rosy’s withering looks. Tommy sank down in in his seat a little as Jackson flinched sympathetically next to him.

“Yes sir.”

“Well, I hope you understand this will be reflected in both of your grades.”

“Yes sir, I know sir,” Tommy said, mentally kicking himself. He didn’t care much for his grade but Rosy had worked so hard, and he hated for her to not get the marks she deserved. 

Tommy passed the next two classes in a blur tired hungry, cold, and more importantly, incredibly angry at himself for letting Rosy’s grade slip. 

He let himself wallow in self pity until he stepped out into the football field and realized - to his dismay - that it was snowing. And not the delicate flurries that had been falling on the walk to school. No, this was the heavy, wet snow, the kind that could block roads and make passing drills rather difficult. 

“Alright boys, into your workout clothes. Snow never stopped football players!”

“Have fun telling Coach,” Jackson said, referencing Tommy’s missing gym bag.

“We’ll wait for you in the locker room,” Brendan added more kindly. 

“Thanks,” Tommy mumbled as he headed towards his coach. “Coach?”

“Geiger! Into the locker room!”

“Yes sir, I will sir, but um...” Tommy trailed off, shaking his hands to get the cold numb feeling out of them. 

“Speak up!”

“I don’t have my gym bag.”

“Why?”

“It’s um, in Nick’s car? And it broke down?”

“Is that a question?”

“No? I mean... no.” Tommy kicked at the snow with his sneakers, not meeting his coach’s eye. 

“Well then, you can run laps.” 

Tommy looked up. “What?”

“You’re not getting a free pass Geiger.” Coach looked down at Tommy menacingly, as if he thought very little of people who tried to get out of football games. Not many things scared Tommy, but Coach was most definitely on the short list. 

“No sir. But what should I wear?”

“Jeans are fine.”

Tommy opened his mouth to ask another question, but his coach was already walking away. With a sigh, he went to the locker room to put his bag away. Thankfully, Brandon offered him one of his sweaters so Tommy would have only a slightly less chance of getting pneumonia. 

“Coach was brutal today,” Brandon announced three hours later as the boys headed to the parking lot. Tommy, trailing after them, shivering so violently his teeth were chattering. 

“At least you’re not Geiger,” a team member said, doubling back to clap Tommy on the shoulder. His knees nearly locked. “Sorry!”

“It’s f-f-fine,” Tommy responded as they neared the line of parked cars. 

“Want a ride home?” Brandon asked.

“He doesn’t need one,” Jackson said. 

“What?”

Jackson pointed to an old blue car at the edge of the parking lot, where a figure in a beige peacoat and a black cap was sitting on the hood of the car. Upon seeing the group of boys, the figure slid off the car. 

“But Rosy is in R-r-rhode Island,” Tommy said in disbelief. 

“Apparently not,” Jackson said with a grin.

“S-s-see you later,” Tommy said suddenly, breaking into a run despite his protesting legs. He barreled towards the car at full force, stopping only to grab Rosalind in a hug and swing her around, despite his screaming muscles. He could hear his teammates cheering somewhere behind them, but he was too busy hugging Rosalind as tight as he could. 

“What are you doing here?” he asked into her hair.

“The roads were closed so I cam back home. No point in being stranded in the middle of nowhere.”

“I missed you.”

“Gosh Tommy you’re so cold,” Rosalind said in response, pulling away.

“It’s been a long day Rosy,” Tommy said, brushing snow out of his girlfriend’s hair.

“Wait, tell me in a moment, let me grab something.” Rosalind reached into the car and pulled out a garment bag from the Cameron Dry Cleaners. She unzipped it to reveal Tommy’s jacket, hat, and gloves.

“How did you -”

“I remembered your mother brought them in last week and I needed to pick up some stuff for Batty and Jane. I thought you might be cold without them so I got yours too.”

With a laugh, Tommy reached forward and kissed Rosalind, long and hard. “Thank you. But did you pay?”

“Yes but don’t worry about it.”

Tommy nodded, secretly resolving to pay her back. He knew her family’s finances worried her. Unfortunately, Rosy knew him enough to know what he was thinking.”

“Stop worrying Tommy, really. Here, put these on you’re going to get sick.”

Rosalind helped him into his jacket. He pulled his gloves on, and with a giggle, Rosy pushed his hat onto his head. It didn’t fully sit on his head properly, but she looked so adorable standing on her toes to reach his head that he had to pull her in for another kiss, forgetting about the cold and the snow.

“Thanks beautiful,” he whispered to her.

“Any time. Come on, I’ll drive you home.”

Tommy took his usual spot in the passenger’s side, and Rosalind slid behind the wheel. “Oh, one more thing.” Rosalind pulled a thermos out from the back seat cupholder. “I made hot chocolate. I didn’t get to taste it but-”

Tommy cut her off by pulling her into him in a tight hug. “Thank you, thank you, thank you Rosy.”

Rosalind pulled away, laughing. “Of course. I knew you’d be cold. Especially since I heard about your disastrous day.”

“You did? How?” Tommy asked, surprised, as Rosalind started the car and backed out of the lot. 

“Skye and Jane told me. Apparently you got yelled at during history?”

“It was project presentation day,” Tommy supplied. Rosalind glanced over at him. 

“Don’t worry about the grade. I’ll talk with him.”

“I feel so bad,” Tommy admitted.

“No, it was my job to remember to give it to you. Anyway, it’s winter vacation. Just enjoy the time off with your brother, okay?”

“And you,” Tommy said emphatically.

“And me,” Rosalind agreed. She cut a glance over to him as they turned into the chaos of Gardam street. “I love you Tommy.”

“I love you so much more. You have no idea.” 

Rosalind smiled. 

[ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes]

Field of Poppies Part 25

Summary: After being apart for six years, childhood friends Tommy and Amelia reunite under odd circumstances. Tommy is an outspoken young man and Amelia is pregnant and out on the streets. The bond of family can be unbreakable but it is tested often. Especially when Europe descends into war.

Part 25: Some have trouble adapting to home again. Some are gearing up for trouble they’re going to cause.

           By August of that year, Barney was locked away in the asylum. It happened so suddenly. Although he certainly hadn’t been himself since his last gunshot wound in the trenches, everyone had hoped that he would reacclimate as time went on. But his behavior only got worse. He was prone to violent outbursts that he didn’t even remember seconds after.

           Tommy and the rest of the 179th did their best to try and keep him calm and out of trouble. But there was only so much they could do. A few episodes at the Garrison was one thing. Harry could accept that the man was clearly out of his mind and not doing it on purpose. But the rest of the public world couldn’t understand.

           Barney was arrested a few times. But his was committed after he bit a cop and tried to escape jail. He was deemed insane soon after.

           Amelia knew Tommy took it very hard. They all did. These men who were parts of their lives were suddenly changed beyond a point of return. And there was nothing they could do about it. They couldn’t visit Barney and they couldn’t get Danny’s fits under control either.

           Rosie was at her wit's end and relied heavily on support from Amelia. Consequently, this allowed Tommy to slip back into his habits of working all hours of the day.

           Amelia noticed this a few months in, but she wasn’t sure what to say. Before the war, she had no problem laying into him about working himself to death. But after? Well, she didn’t know what to even say. She felt guilty about being strict about anything. In her mind, he had been through enough. Why should she scold him on something that was small compared to the grand scheme of things?

           But she wasn’t blind either. Amelia was aware that he never slept more than a few hours at a time. She couldn’t find the warmth in his eyes anymore. He was less outspoken than before and had a habit of sitting in stony silence instead of speaking out. He was energetic with the kids, at least as much as he could be on the amount of sleep he was getting.

           Amelia was grateful for that. Although it hurt to know Tommy had changed so much, at least the kids wouldn’t realize.

~~~~~~~~~~

           Amelia went into the betting shop one sweltering afternoon to bring Tommy lunch. He hadn’t eaten that morning and had been absent during dinner the night before. But there was no sign of him. She went into Arthur’s office to see where he was.

           “He came in early this morning, was here before everyone else.” Her brother-in-law answered. “He left ‘bout an hour ago saying he would be back later.”            

           “He didn’t say where he would be?” Amelia asked, her concern growing.

           Arthur shook his head. “I asked but he never answered.”

           She chewed on her lip. “Okay…well.” She considered waiting but figured her nerves would get the better of her. “Here, you can have this.” She gave Arthur the lunch before leaving the shop.

~~~~~~~~~~

           Small Heath wasn’t particularly large, but that didn’t mean he was even there. He could’ve gone beyond the neighborhood. She started with Charlie’s Yard. That’s where Annie and Max were for the day. They were cranky inside because of the heat so she sent them to both Charlie for the morning.

           “Haven’t seen him,” Charlie said, sitting on a stool in the shade while he watched the kids. Curly was showing them a grasshopper he’d found in one of the horse stalls. The kids were so taken by the discovery that they didn’t even notice their mother arriving.

           “Do you know where he might’ve gone?” Amelia asked hopefully.

           “Whenever he’d get in a mood, he’d go to the graveyard to visit his mum,” Charlie replied. “I’d look there.”

           “Thank you,” Amelia said gratefully, hoping Tommy’s uncle was right.

           Across the yard, Annie squealed. The grasshopper had jumped out of Curly’s cupped hand and was on the loose. Max ran to try and catch it again. They were both so caught up in the summer fun, that she wasn’t going to interrupt it with her nerves.

           “I’ll be back to take them off your hands,” Amelia promised Charlie.

           “S’alright. They’re not hurting anyone.” He nodded before she went off toward the graveyard.

~~~~~~~~~~

           Charlie was right. Amelia found Tommy among the overgrown grass and crooked headstones. But he wasn’t standing in front of his mother’s grave. Hers was a few rows down. No, he was standing in the newer section in front of a newer plot.

           “Tom.” Amelia hated interrupting him while he was in deep thought, but she was just thankful she’d found him.

           He glanced over his shoulder. Without saying anything, he reached for her hand. She took it as she stood beside him. That’s when she noticed they were in front of Greta Jurossi’s grave.

           “When I got the letter from you, the one where you said she had died, I didn’t believe it.” He spoke in a quiet voice, just loud enough to hear over the sound of cicadas in the grass. “I dunno, I just thought she was going to be the one to upset the system. One of those historical figures that people talk about.”

           Amelia knew that he and Greta shared the same ideologies. Aspirations that she was afraid of but Greta wasn’t. He had respect for her.

           “I know.” She said gently. “She would come by sometimes to the shop. She and Polly would always get worked up about the rights of women and the working class.” She smiled weakly.

           Tommy nodded, his eyes staring into space. “You were right, though.”

           “About what?”

           “When you came back, I was telling you about the communist group. You didn’t think it was enough to change the world.” He recalled. “And you were right.”

           “Tom…”

           “You don’t have to say anything.” He shook his head. “There’s nothing more to say.”

           Young Tommy Shelby had so many dreams and a drive to change everything he saw as unjust. But the world had taken him in its fist and squeezed the convictions out of him. It had forced him into the mold of a soldier. Forced him to comply. Killed off Greta, killed her message.

           But Tommy wasn’t dead yet. There was a new fire lit inside of him. “Politics, laws, parties. It doesn’t matter. You can’t win if you play by their rules.”

           “So, what are you-”

           He began to walk back down the path, still holding her hand. “Everything will be alright.” He promised her. “You won’t have to worry about a thing.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

           The two went back to the Yard to bring the children home with them. Charlie was still taking refuge in the shade, smoking a pipe and watching Annie running around in the mud.

           “You found him then.” He commented as Amelia and Tommy came up to him.

           “Not a lot of places you can hide in Small Heath,” Tommy replied to his uncle.

           “I hope they weren’t a fuss, Charlie.” Amelia ignored her husband’s glib response.

           “I’ll tell you what, that boy of yours is just like you, Tom,” Charlie remarked. “Full of energy but once he’s around a horse, he’s quiet as a mouse.”

           “I’m sure you taught him well then.”

           “I didn’t teach him anything.” He shook his head. “Must be the Traveler blood in him.”  

           “He doesn’t have Traveler blood, Charlie,” Tommy muttered in reply.

           “Well, then it’s fucking intuition, hell if I know.” His uncle rolled his eyes, his pipe still tucked between his lips as he spoke.

           “Hell, if you know.” Tommy shook his head. “You better not have been teaching him that kind of fucking language.” He warned before heading toward the horse stalls to find Max.

           “That one has Traveler blood in her.” Charlie pointed his pipe toward Annie. The little girl had ruined her skirt by stomping around in the mud by the canal. She had a loose hold on her teddy bear that seemed just as filthy from the morning’s play.

           “You think?”

           “Reminds me of Pol when she was little. An absolute terror but you’d be happy to see her come around. Max will be a gifted rider, like Tom. But Annie won’t back down from a challenge, no matter how many times she’s bucked off.”

           The thought of her precious daughter being bucked off a horse was a nightmare to Amelia. But she knew that there was no forcing Annie into being someone she wasn’t. Amelia knew that all too well. Her family wanted her to be a lady of high society. They wanted her to be proper, educated but not too educated, and a million miles beyond Small Heath. But she was aware that she was a girl of lower class. Her upbringing was nothing compared to the socialites in London. She ran the streets with the Shelbys much to her parents’ discontent. And while she wasn’t as fierce and feisty as Tommy and Arthur, she didn’t mind living in Small Heath. She loved the people there.

           The more her parents pushed, the more she rebelled. In London, she felt empty. She had no friends because all the girls her age were boring to her. London felt cold and desolate to her. Sure, the place they lived in was nicer, but it didn’t matter.

           So, if Annie wanted to be a wild girl who flocked to dangerous horses, then there really wasn’t a thing Amelia could do about it. Not with Tommy’s blood in her.

~~~~~~~~~~

           “Not even half a year since he’s come back and you’re already up the duff, again.”

           Martha and Amelia snickered behind their hands. It was true. Martha was pregnant again and Polly was bewildered by the revelation.

           “Oh, Pol, it’s okay.” Amelia smiled. "It was bound to happen once John came back."

           “You and John are getting your own flat, or I'll get my own. I’ve had more than enough newborns in this house at one time.” Polly replied firmly.

           “I suppose that’s only fair.” Martha agreed. Six Watery Lane had become quite the den of rascals. “At least John is home and can help me with the other two."

           “And make sure he does. Those three have been working themselves to death.” Polly shook her head in disapproval. “And it’s all Tommy’s doing.” She glanced at Amelia.

           “I think they’re just trying to find their place in the world again.” Amelia shrugged. “Remember when they were gone? We had to adapt to the world. Now they do too.”

           Polly didn’t look convinced. “When a Shelby man is working like the devil, that means there’s going to be trouble.” She warned.

           It did speak to the conversation she and Tommy had earlier in the graveyard. “He did seem to have some plans.” She admitted. “But he didn’t say what.”

           Polly continued to smoke by the kitchen table where Amelia and Martha were sitting. “One can only guess what goes on in that head of his.”

           Amelia looked down at her lap. As his wife, she thought she would be the one to know. But she felt just as blind as the rest of them.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

           It was a rare night, but one that Amelia rejoiced in having. After dinner, she got the kids washed up and put in bed. After Tommy kissed them each goodnight, he returned to the master bedroom and caught Amelia before she even made it to her vanity.

           Without a word, he kissed her deeply. He pressed her up against the door as he locked it to avoid any awkward situations if one of the children wandered in unannounced.

           It was so easy for Amelia to forget everything when Tommy held her. She could rejoice in the fact that in those brief moments, she was taken care of. There was nothing to interrupt them, nothing to cause them harm, it was just the two of them. They were the moments Amelia yearned for when he was in France. The moments where she could keep him close and cast aside the ugliness of the world.      

           But the feeling couldn’t last and they were brought back to Earth as the night wore on. Still, they enjoyed each other’s company in the dead hours of the night. Amelia curled up in the crook of his arm, tracing the new scars on his chest that he’d obtained in the trenches. He held her close as he smoked.

           Eventually, he broke the silence and uttered a rare confession to her. “I’m going to do bad things, Mel.”

           The admission sent a chill up her spine. Yet, it was something she already knew. Something she’d known even in childhood when adults would comment on Tommy’s proclivity for mischief. When they remarked how his father was nothing but a waste of space. When they speculated how Tommy would live up to the Shelby name. A name cursed.

           “I know.” She whispered. From then on, she was complicit. Her wish to stay in Small Heath as a child had brought her to that point. Her wishes for Tommy to stay out of danger had fallen upon deaf ears as she should’ve realized. But if she wanted a quiet, polite, bland husband, she would’ve stayed in London to marry one. Instead, she was with someone who was destined to be one of the most dangerous men in Britain.

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For @ummmm-no-thanks​ and the koalas, my second Harringrove for Australia fic. Thanks for letting me write for you! Hope you enjoy!

~*~

Billy’s tripped Harrington up one too many times on the court, apparently. The elbow in the gut out of nowhere is what clues him in.

And Harrington’s grabbing out at Billy’s arm with one splayed slipping hand; has got a fistful of Billy’s sweat-damp hair in the other and he’s taking Billy down with him as he tumbles to the floor.

Which is bullshit.

Billy’d barely even pushed the guy. Fucker never plants his feet.

But it’s fine. It’s great. Because Stevie-boy rolls up to his knees and does something fucking fantastic next. He carries that momentum from the floor into a punch. And the punch is nothing. The punch gets Harrington nothing but this triumphant grin that Billy can’t contain—and the look of confusion on the guy’s face is—just this big ol’ toothy grin, and the fire in Billy’s jaw is about beautiful.

Because finally, finally, Billy’s got King Steve’s attention.

Been leaving the guy be (more or less) for over a week now. Been quiet like Max had demanded, his family jewels on the line. Just watching her. Her stupid geeked-out friends. Watching Harrington.

Wondering what the hell they’re up to.

Now, without even trying, there’s this anger. This formal invitation to get up in Pretty-Boy’s shit. This punch. This dialogue started between them.

They run laps together after practice. Silent. Alone. Coach apparently fed up with their bullshit and leaving them to it. That’s why they’re the only two amigos left in the showers—in the locker room—in the whole goddamn school for all Billy knows, now. Why there’re no other assholes around to make being naked and sudsy in a room together socially acceptable. And Billy has nothing to stare at but all the fading bruises he’d given Stevie-boy last time they’d danced. Nothing to see here but Harrington. Not that Billy’s looking—shit.

“The fuck were you all doing that night, anyway?” he asks—and Harrington knows which night—because it forces Billy to watch Harrington’s face for an answer, except then there’s those goddamn pink—

Water cascades over Harrington’s face, rinsing away his rich-boy sweet shampoo foam. And those dark eyes open. Look too hard at Billy who’s just standing there—Jesus—who grabs a bar of soap to occupy his hands.

“It’s none of your business, Man,” Steve says. “Leave it.”

To which Billy pitches the bar of soap off into a corner. Crowds up on Harrington. None of his business. Tch.

“None of my—the hell it isn’t! That’s my sister you’re—” Not his sister, though, right?

Fuck.

Shoves Harrington out of the shower stream instead of continuing with the talking. Screw the talking. And little icebergs of suds run down the guy’s body as he regains his balance and Billy pointedly doesn’t follow them with his eyes.

Fuck.

He closes on Harrington again. Only now, there’s this mean light in Harrington’s eyes like the guy’s had it up to here and the Pretty boy’s closing the distance to match him.

Their fists meet in the middle. First Harrington’s—oh and that shit’s cute—then Billy’s hard retaliation. And Harrington stumbles back. Slips on the tile. He doesn’t fall, though. Charges Billy instead.

Soon enough they’ve knocked themselves to the floor and are grappling. Elbowing. Rolling and bucking, punching and kneeing and sliding, bare skin slipping across the floor and cut up by the stupid fucking tiles. Tumbling through cold puddles. Scraped raw. And Harrington’s on top of him now, holding Billy down—how the fuck had that happened? Big brown eyes stare down, bright. That flushed victorious face and those pink fucking fuck-me lips are way too close to Billy’s mouth and Billy can’t move. Can’t get away. And he needs to. Like now. Like yesterday.

So he leans up and catches the stupid fucker’s mouth with his mouth—soft lips God God shit. Pushes hard when the idiot inevitably jumps back. Manages to get out from under the guy. Get up to his feet.

And screw showering, you know what? He’s done here.

He hides his softening erection.

Billy punches a dent in his locker and leaves his fist there, leaning in, hanging his head, pressing his raw knuckles deeper to let the pain of it ground him. He tries to get his chest to quit fucking heaving. Lets out a shaky long breath.

“You won’t believe me,” Harrington says, quiet voice from the shower room doorway. Billy looks. Stands. Lowers his stinging fist.

“Try me.”

Billy can believe a lot. In this whole goddamn world there’s nothing that’s what it seems—he knows that much.

He leans back into the locker, cradling his hand. Closes his eyes. For the moment, doesn’t give a shit that he’s naked. That Harrington’s naked. That they’re both here naked together.

And by the time he opens them, Harrington’s too close. Again. Like the fucker knows what it does to Billy and is trying to—

“This came off when we were— Just— Here, okay?”

Guy’s way too close, arms circling Billy’s neck, and Billy feels cold metal settle onto his chest. Looks down. And when he does, their foreheads are almost touching—guy really needs to back off. Billy swallows.

“I think I fixed the clasp thing,” Harrington says, and Billy can feel breath puffing his shoulder when he says it.

Billy closes his eyes and turns his face away. Reaches up to his chest. Feels the medal his mom had— Feels it back where it belongs. Feels the warm circle of Harrington’s arms break and fall to the guy’s sides, one palm skipping over Billy’s chest on the way down and Billy stifles a gasp. Opens his eyes on the disgusting orange walls. Thinks of repetitive chores and algebra. Anything. And his dick behaves.

“The fuck are you so nice for?” he asks, because it bothers him. It’s always bothered him. “I don’t get it. The way Tommy talks—”

“Tommy’s a prick,” Harrington says, quick, and he’s still not backing off. What the hell, Harrington? Back off.

But Billy can’t argue with the sentiment. Puffs a not-quite laugh.

“I dunno,” Harrington goes on, still right there. “Guess I just needed a change—people change.”

Billy puts a hand on Harrington’s chest and it’s a little too long before he can make himself push the guy away.

“No.” Billy shakes his head once. “They fucking don’t.”

He turns. Opens his locker loud enough to end the conversation. Needs to separate himself from Harrington with some goddamn clothes already. Can feel the guy milling around behind him. And why hasn’t the bastard mentioned the kiss? Billy’s ready to lie his ass off about that kiss. The fuck kind of game’s Harrington playing, not mentioning it?

“I’m starving,” the guy says instead, startling Billy out of a patch of unbroken silence. Both of them are dressed and Harrington’s locker closes with a click.

“Tell you what,” he says, hands on his hips and hair somehow fucking perfect already when Billy turns to look. “Fuck the government. Come get a burger with me and I’ll tell you all about what’s really been going on in Hawkins so you can prove me right by laughing in my face when you don’t believe me like I said you wouldn’t.”

Billy considers. He is hungry.

“You buyin, Princess?”

Harrington smiles. Pats the wallet in his fat pocket. Fucker.

“Fine,” Billy says. Slams his locker shut.

Harrington chuckles. Turns to go. Looks back with a wicked grin.

“Promise to be nice and I might even share my malt with you.”

Billy freezes a beat, fist clenched. Thinks of repetitive chores. Of algebra. When Harrington turns and starts walking away, he follows.

But God, does he hate the guy.

God.

~*~

Still have 3800 words left to bid on, but let’s call it an even 4k. Hit up my Harringrove for Australia post and I’ll write you some real pretty shit. Honest.

[silverhands-etcetera]

After Midnight.

I’m the first one to wake up today. This is a rare thing in any house. The ticking of the clock and the tapping of the letters on my keyboard are the only sounds. Rain is coming down steadily outside, but the sky is still bright, it’s easy to be in the kitchen without any lights on.

Every morning when I walk to this kitchen, I half expect Tommy to be in here -reading his book, pot of coffee started. Tommy being the designated early riser of Joy Mills band tours, his was often the task of putting the first kettle on. Today it’s me. I’ve got the press stewing on the table in front of me, waiting for the big hand to get to the 4, so I can drop the plunger & strain out a cup of precious elixir.

We’re at a place in our travels that doesn’t particularly coincide with what is happening on stage. I’ve reached that point in a trip where the most accessible feeling of normalcy is in the van. There’s a nagging fatigue in all of the days, -nothing strong enough to dull the edge of the the excitement of just being on the road, and nothing even coming close to lethargy, but more of an awareness of always being slightly hungry, always slightly too full, running in a cycle of consumption that squeezes every last drop of enjoyment out of each part of every day. We’re all drinking a lot of coffee.

Our day-to-day is in an easy flow, we know the drill when packing up the van, all of the things and the order in which they go. We’ve long forgotten the origin of the catchphrases & inside jokes we tell, but we keep saying them and they keep cracking us up. Sometimes it’s a little difficult to remember where we were yesterday, but then sometimes it’s the same at home, so maybe that’s not strange at all.

Life itself is currently a well-oiled and streamlined operation, -the difference right now is that on stage we’re starting up a brand new show. I have to crawl out of the shadows and be the face of the band for the next couple weeks. An abrupt shift happens in my mind when I come from basically any other task into singing my own songs. I have been enjoying just playing the bass -not “just” playing the bass as if it is an element of little consequence, but the singular focus and purpose behind doing something that I feel I’m good at, and more importantly, something that allows me to find my feet beneath me quickly when I go astray.

When I am singing, there are more variables, some of which I’m not as good at reigning in -which is why it’s important to have a band that can roll with anything I toss out. If I have any rule at all in my band, it’s that we play everything the way it comes to us naturally. If something doesn’t work, that’s probably a sign that it’s not a thing that’s meant for us to do. I’ve spent a lot of energy in former times trying to duplicate a phrase or a pocket from songs that are special to me, only to eventually realize that the most captivating part of it is how very different it is from my self.

I don’t know where the influence comes from, and what synapses between my memory and my hands are firing or missing to make things happen the way they do. It’s not just what you listen to, it’s how you have processed it. My favorite players are the people that appear as though the music is just happening to them -being a conduit for something bigger than themselves. The way Jack’s riffs can freak you out while simultaneously tucking you into the fluffiest, most comfortable resolutions you’ve ever heard. Or how Esme can play rests like Danko on the bass, while she dangles vocal melodies over both ends of a measure as though she’s got two people on the job.

I’m not someone who is good at directing musicians, but I think I’m smart enough to know something that works when I hear it. Silverhands in this incarnation is not a wall of sound, we’re a vessel for the songs. I’m playing the guitar, and sometimes I like to leave holes in the guitar part, or just let a particular chord finish what it has to say for several measures. This is where the rhythm section keeps things glued together. I don’t try to analyze it too much, it just works.

—

We rolled back into Lovenich, the serene low rolls of the hills and lazy windmills beautiful now in their comforting familiarity more so than in any feeling of exotic landscape. It was still early afternoon, and it was a clear day, so we opted to postpone rehearsal and head out for a bike ride through Rurich & Baal and through the woods back to the house. Our bodies were feeling the constriction of a day in the van, and a little bit of air & exploration was in order. In the end, we managed to put off any kind of rehearsal until the next day, about two hours before the first gig. We wrote out a rough set list & ran through a few of the fresher numbers -all in all, about 100% more rehearsing than we did when the 2016 tour came over here.

The first gig was back at the scene of the first Del Vox show, two weeks and several lifetimes ago, at the Kultus cafe in Grevenbroich. Veronika was waiting for us -actually since 6 pm, due to a lapse in communication somewhere, but I made it up to her by not asking for any kölsh beers all night. Hien was ready for us with the sound, and I was itching to bust the rented Fender Twin amplifier out of its case. The room was starting to fill in, so we busted out a quick verse of soundcheck and laid down our instruments until showtime.

When we finally went on, the place was full up. I had the expected variables of playing a borrowed guitar through an unknown amp, but any jitters cleared up quickly. We were solid right out of the gate, busting through our openers and feeling the warm approval of the room at our first pause. The amp sounds great, a lot like my Music Man twin back home, with a little more of a bark, but also with a really great functional vibrato. Having this at my disposal while I’m here is gonna make me really want to get the vibrato fixed (redesigned) on my own amp when I get home.

At the break we ran into our Irish friend John, who came down from Rees to see the show. The gig went by like several blinks, and we were hanging out in a room full of friends that we had acquired in just the last two weeks. Veronika made me promise that we’ll come back next year, -there’s a lot of talk like this.

—

At Nagelhaus, breakfast turns into conversation that burns through no less than 4 pots of coffee every morning, and often runs straight through to lunchtime. Saturday was a morning much like this. (I enjoy the times when I notice that I have been in Europe long enough for the English spoken by the locals to impact my phrases as I write) It was another brisk fall day, but free of precipitation. The gig is only an hour away, so the band headed to the stable and saddled up the bicycles for a ride up to Erkelenz. We can only go roughly 45 minutes at a time without eating or having coffee at this point, so the 30 minute ride was safely within our window.

It was chilly, only Aimee was wise enough to pack a pair of gloves on this trip, so when we locked up the bikes our interest was first drawn to any store that might have some handwear to sell us. First up was a fancy clothes joint that offered some really nice leather gloves, -which I considered, even at an asking price of 80 bucks. As it happened, a drugstore-looking establishment down the street sold me on a pair of $2 garden gloves.

What I find amusing (about myself) is that both glove options had an almost identical chance of being what I went home with. Ultimately it’s not that I ain’t prone to drop a chunk of money on a random accessory that I didn’t know I needed, it was more that I just can’t be trusted with gloves and things that get stuffed into pockets and lost before I even get home. Whichever direction I go, I go all out -I’m riding with a pair of bright green, plastic-dipped knit gloves, the cheapest and ugliest in the store. Sherri opted for the $5 mechanic’s gloves, in a stylish black & grey. Aimee bought a can of wine.

Back in the square we met our daily soup needs, and broke the seal on lagers, before heading down the street for coffees at a little bakery with a familiar-looking poster in the front window. By the time we’d topped off our tanks, it was time to get back home & get ourselves to work.

—

Maartje and Ronnie are two of the longest-held friendships I have in the Netherlands. We shared a gig in Landgraaf on my first visit here in 2013. The bands have changed a bit, but tonight we are back at the Theater Landgraaf, where we all first met.

We rolled up right on time. Ronnie had his many Gretsches all out on display, framing a persian-style rug front & center on the stage. There was much discussion with Wick, our engineer for the evening, over how to set up and backline the drums & bass amp. Eventually we settled on drums at stage left, forcing me & my guitar to the center. Not my favorite place to be, but I can roll with it.

Right about then, a woman in a red felt cloak walked in carrying two pans of lasagne and about a dozen jars of custard. She introduced herself & said “I have made your food for tonight, but I am going out for supper, so make of that what you will.” I appreciated her sense of humor, and in the end, I appreciated her cooking as well. We all took a break for supper & made ourselves comfortable at the bar, serving ourselves and hanging around on both sides, staff & artists alike. The room had an easy vibe of camaraderie to it. We took an interview for a local radio program, and I was still behind the bar talking with the DJ when a white-haired fellow with a collared shirt under his sweater turned the corner, speaking almost a full paragraph of Dutch to me as he slowly stepped closer & closer until he was right at my shoulder, looking at me sternly.

At a bit of a loss, I said “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch most of what you said there”

“oh” he said, & his face turned a bit. “you stay on the other side with your friends and not on this side of the bar”

It was only then that I noticed he had a sticker nametag on his sweater. Good thing he doesn’t have a badge…

—

Maartje & Ronnie soundchecked first, the venue has a new mixing desk & much time was spent in squaring up the monitor mix -which I appreciated when we got up to check ourselves & I walked right up to the lead vocal mic and immediately had a perfect balance -which never happens. Maartje & I are the same height, apparently, as I didn’t even need to adjust the mic stand. I was feeling pretty good about things when I saw Wick coming over to me with another mic & stand, reaching for the one I was singing into.

“You can’t use that mic, it’s the one I have checked for Maartje”

“but it’s perfect”

“it is EQ’d for her”

“but it sounds great. I’m really happy with it like it is. You can leave it exactly how it is”

“…”

I don’t like telling people how to do their job, but I also don’t like creating needless variables, especially when there’s new technology in play, and lots of options for producing more chaos than necessary. The fact was that it sounded great & I didn’t feel like taking the time to start again from zero to get a different mic to sound exactly like this one already did. In the end, I was able to convince Wick to just leave the same mic up. It was pushing 8pm, doors were in just a few minutes.

Both bands would play around 45 minutes, but there were no rules. We could play whatever length of set we wanted. Ronnie told me that the only important thing that was that we need to be out of the theater by midnight. I told him that wouldn’t be a problem.

—

They’ve got a nice new batch of songs, and a new album in the works. Ronnie’s got some great new folk rock numbers & Maartje keeps producing beautiful songs with universal truth and timeless settings. Her voice sounds like it comes straight out of the american experience, I don’t know how she does it.

Silverhands up on that big stage,.. we had a lot space between us. I felt a bit like I was on an island in the center, but the sonic support came in from both ends. I reckon I was in the sweet spot. There’s a couple of small differences between my electric guitar at home & Sherri’s guitar that I’m playing on this tour. The tone is coming from the same location on the spectrum, it doesn’t do anything unexpected. The things that I need to adapt to are purely architectural -the bridge doesn't lay down as low as my G&L does, and I find that the volume knob is a lot higher up the body, leading me to punch it when my downstroke gets too animated. As usual, the band held it down while I was cracking myself up over my unexpected antics.

We closed the night joined by Maartje & Ronnie for a couple numbers, and just like that another show was over. It was one of those gigs where you are in no hurry to tear down & pack up. Ronnie was doing an interview with the radio guy. Sherri, Aimee, Maartje & I were chatting with Wick & the equally jovial light tech on the stage, while we all casually wrapped up our business.

The crowd finished their beers & we had a round of photos on the stage, eventually talking about our influences & the paths we took to get here, standing around our piles of gear when Wick tapped me on the shoulder.

“Can you bring the van & begin loading? The staff would like to go home”

I looked at the time. It was after 12. How did this happen?

Hugs all around. Let’s do it again.

—

We were starving when we got home. Aimee made us popcorn & we cracked a couple of crispy Jupilers from the fridge. The nights get so long, even when they aren’t. The story keeps going, I’m sure I’ve missed a lot, but this brings us back to the beginning of this chapter.

[n4lentertainmentltd]

Chapter IV

1 City, Many Fallbacks, Unnecessary Rush

“Shit you never know with him bro.” Young replied.

Just as they were talking they all got a notification of a text on their phone. 

Recipients: BrisQuo, Russ, Young

Theo: Fuck yall niggas. All yall some ho ass niggas. Y’all just gonna leave me? Bitch ass niggas. My granny bringing me anyway. Don’t say shit to me when you see me.

None of them knew what to expect from him when they saw him, but they didn’t care. They needed to get to Orientation. They couldn’t wait all day on him. Besides, he had found a way there anyhow. He’d be aight.

The first time Young met Russ, he thought he was funny; he didn’t talk funny or walk funny. He was just a nice guy. Super nice. The nicest guy Young had ever met before. He was the kind of guy you did something wrong to, and he would end up apologizing for it. He had a kind soul.

Russ was closer to Young’s height. He was about 6’3”, dark skinned, built from his years of playing high school defensive end and tennis, and he had one dimple on the left side of his face that he often flashed at any chick willing to give a glance. Young did not know at that time, but they were going to end up being best-friends. Inseparable.

Text Messages

F: Angelica

T: Young

Angelica: Hey babe what’s up? I haven’t heard from you since you got off last night. 

Young: Sorry babe. I got off at like 1 then came home and packed for Orientation.

Angelica: Its okay I understand. I was sleep anyway. Are y’all in Austin yet?

Young: Naw not yet. I almost didn’t respond to your text.

Angelica: What?! Why not? 

Young: I thought you were Theo! We left his ass in Dallas and he been talking shit ever since.

Angelica: Ugh. That sounds just like that nigga. He so angry to be so light-skinned.

Young: Exactly! Lmao

Angelica: I’m so proud of you baby. I know you are going to do great things. Try not to forget me along the way. 

Young: Never.

Everyone can’t be as lucky as Young to have known love at such a young age. The moment his eyes rested on Angelica he knew she would be his. They went from acquaintances (she did not care for him at first), to friends, to bestfriends, and then there was the kiss that started it all. They both knew when their lips touched on that day things would never be the same. 

Every time she giggled. 

Every time she batted those big beautiful brown eyes. 

Every.

Single. 

Time. 

He was powerless.

Angelica and Young started dating the summer of his senior year before he headed off to college. They figured his school was close by since it was only a 3-hour drive. They agreed he would come home on the weekends and the two of them would be just fine. Everything seemed like it would work out.  

She expected to still be treated like and to feel like his Queen. He intended to give her just that...

After 3 hours on the road and talking extensively about what it would be like when they saw Theo, they finally arrived on campus. When they arrived, there were Student Guides all over the campus, dressed in official school colors with the mascot displayed proudly across their chests’. They were all pretty much giving the same speech.

“Hello! Welcome to the University. We’re so happy to see you.”

BrisQuo rolled up to the Student Guide standing closest to the car on the nearby street corner. After the initial speech mentioned above, the Student Guide said, “Please go to the annex to pick up your agenda and keys. If y’all need anything feel free to give me a holler.” 

“When do we have to pay by?” Russ asked as he pressed the automatic window button down so the Student Guide could see through the tint. 

“Great question! You have until the end of the Orientation to pay your fee. That will be 250.00. Cash, check, and all major credit cards are accepted.”

“Oh ok. Thank you.” Russ responded as he rolled the window back up.

They parked at the annex then everyone got out and did their long car ride stretches and yawns. Young was surprised Russ hadn’t paid for Orientation yet. He had a job and was sensible with his money.

“Russ?” Young said.

“What’s good bro?” He replied.

“Why haven’t you paid yet?”

“Nigga I ain’t paying for this shit. 250 bucks for something they made mandatory? Naw nigga. I aint paying a dime. I’mma just do whatever y’all do and tell them to write me down as present.” He said as he wrote an imaginary check in the air.

Young definitely felt where he was coming from. Since it was mandatory, Young felt the exact same way as him. 

Why do I have to pay for something I am being forced to do? 

Russ’ plan was ingenious. 

“So where you gonna stay?” BrisQuo asked.

“I’m staying in y’all room.” Russ replied.

“Bro its only two beds in there.” Young said. “How you gonna manage to do that?” 

“Yeah nigga! And you always snore loud than a bitch. Nigga you wasn’t gonna tell us you was staying?” BrisQuo interjected.

“I’ll be fine on the floor. I’ll make a pallet on the floor AND BrisQuo leave me, and my snoring, out of this. You know I gotta condition!”

When they got to the annex, the line had already extended out past the front door. Everyone and they Mama was at Orientation. Each Orientation was held for incoming students. 6 or 7 generally were held throughout the summer, depending on the number of incoming freshman. They decided to go to the 4th one because that one worked best with each of their work schedules. 

The annex was huge. The building had high ceilings; lots of windows, and people were packed in like sardines. It was a hot day outside, in the 100’s once again. The air was being blasted full power but that didn’t matter. It was too hot and too many bodies in that one building.

When they walked in they got in line behind the other people waiting for keys and agendas. 

“Hey Young?” BrisQuo said in a low whisper.

“Yeah what’s up?” He replied.

“Don’t that look like them Niggas from that dinner that was sitting with them bad chicks?”

“What y’all talking about?” Russ asked.

“Shhhhh Nigga damn!” BrisQuo said in an excited utterance. “Look.” BrisQuo said as he nodded his head in the semi-familiar crowds general direction.

“Yeah I think that is them.” Russ whispered. “What y’all tryna do?”

“What you mean what we tryna do? I’m tryna get these keys so I can go lay down. They not flexing on us so we shouldn’t flex on them.” Young said sounding irritated.

“Relax nigga. We just got here so we don’t have no time to be making enemies. Trust though, if we see them acting weird out in public we gonna handle that.” BrisQuo said triumphantly.

“Hell yeah.” Russ replied bouncing his shoulders and rubbing his hands together like was putting on too much hand sanitizer on.

You could tell the University prepared for the event because it took them less than 30 minutes to get to the front of the line. When they got to the front, none of them could believe who was up there waiting to get a roommate. Young recognized that voice from over a thousand Chick & Strip drive-thru orders...

“Which one of these guys is your roomie?” The student helper asked Theo.

“Shit not these niggas.” Theo shot back. He wouldn’t even look at them when he said it he just waved in their general direction.

The student helper looked at Theo with a puzzled expression on her face. 

“So wait, you aren’t with these guys?”

“Naw man. I don’t know them. They don’t know me. This my roommate right here. This guy right here. Uhhhhh, what’s your name?” Theo asked as he wrapped his arm around the stranger’s shoulder.

It was clear that Theo just grabbed the closest person to him that wasn’t one of the fellas he was supposed to ride with. The kid he grabbed was a small white guy with plaid shorts, a white tee, and flip-flops. He looked absolutely terrified when Theo touched him. The guy could tell Theo looked angry though and didn’t want to get on his bad side. 

“My name is Tommy.” The stranger mumbled.

“Is this gentleman really your roommate?” the student assistant asked. 

The guy looked at the Dallas Troop. Then looked at Theo. Then looked back to the woman. Then gave everyone a once over one more time, and finally replied, “Yeah. This is my roommate.”

“Here are your keys. Here are your agendas.” The woman said as she handed them their items. “If you need anything or have any questions feel free to ask myself or any of the other student assistants.” Theo and Tommy thanked her for her help and then walked off together rolling their luggage behind them.

BrisQuo and Young were next up. Russ, sensing it would be awkward when he was the only one not getting a agenda and key, got ghost until they came out. He was leaning on a pillar outside texting when BrisQuo, Soulful, and Young walked out of the building.