#the moment this popped up i started laughing really fucking hard because i forgot google had this shit

[skeletalheartattack]

i just wanted that one baki the grappler image man

[eddsworldwritingrequests]

Tordedd please!! Maybe angst? But anything really, I’m just deprived of tordedd content 😫

(How did y’all know I love TordEdd >=0 Also I’m really sorry for how long this took, quarantine caught all of us off guard in my household so I’ve been trying to get back on my feet. AND my girlfriend has been staying over with me and she doesn’t know I run this blog.

But in all seriousness, I hope you forgive me with this request! It was like 9 pages on google docs so aaaa---)

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Quiet was something that Edd had gotten used to. He didn't do it constantly, but staying up was a routine that had gotten a little too familiar for the brunet. So familiar that the dark bags under his eyes showed its prominence. 

Coffee was basically an all time drink now. Of course, it would never overrun the amount of Cola Edd drinks on a daily basis. Hell, he even pours the drink into the actual coffee sometimes. However, it certainly was something that he depended on nowadays, especially for moments like this. 

He didn't mean to stay up. He never usually meant to, but Edd couldn't sleep lately. Everytime he did, he found himself staring at the ceiling for an hour and a half. Which is what happened tonight, which lead to where the tall man was now sitting. 

Edd tilted his foot back and forth, ticking it with the seconds that passed on the hanging clock. Fingernails tapped against the hard surface of the table, the brunet closing his eyes peacefully. His coffee was brewing, and while the man wanted so desperately to fall asleep, he knew he wouldn't be able to. So, might as well stay awake and be productive. 

Tom and Matt were probably dead asleep, which is reasonable considering it was 2:30 in the morning. Matt usually fell asleep early, which was good for midnight shenanigans, but that meant the ginger was usually the first one awake. Tom liked to stay up late as well, but he usually only did so because he was out at some bar. Or in some stranger’s bed. Once he gets home, however, he drops so quickly, sleeping like a log. Edd sometimes wonders if he comes back alive, even.

Edd blinked his eyes open halfway, watching the coffee maker lazily. It was whirring, making a low buzzing sound. He wondered why he was still awake, why he couldn’t sleep when his body so desperately screamed for a rest. The light thrum of the refrigerator, the ice maker rumbling every now and then, the damn coffee maker buzzing. And that was all he heard, the little "vrrrr" from the machine, the occasional wind creaking the windows, and the sound of the kitchen fan turning slowly. 

That's all he should've heard. It was late, and as far as he was concerned, Edd was the only one up. 

Until he heard a crash. 

Glass shattering, the noise disappearing just as quickly as it had sounded. It was just long enough for Edd's tired self to process, however. Mostly because he was suddenly on his feet, chair having been scraped back. 

He stood still, quiet as he listened. The machine was still whirring, the fan slowly turned. He didn't hear anything else. It had gone completely silent again, as if whoever broke the window had just… paused. 

Edd finally moved after a minute of silence. Socked feet tiptoed their way into the living room, staring with wide eyes at the entrance. Down the hall was the front door, where the broken window presumably was. And towards the person who most likely broke it. 

The brunet came another step forward before pausing by the wall, hidden behind the corner of the living room entrance. Another sound broke through the silence, the sound of feet crunching glass. 

It made Edd freeze in his spot, lips held tight. He was scared to breathe, as if whoever had broken in could hear his noise from all the way in front. Whether they were closer now or not, Edd didn't dare to breathe too loudly. He was still in his spot, heartbeat stuck at the base of his throat. 

He could hear the steps coming closer, lightly treading down the hall. They were so light that Edd almost lost track of them, but he managed to keep up. Keep up as he heard them come to a slow stop near him, around the corner of the entrance. 

Fuck. Fuck, the kitchen light was on. It seeped past the living room, glowing on the floor. They could see it from the hall, just lightly, but they could see it nonetheless. 

Edd cursed under his breath, hearing the footsteps quickly retreat. He couldn’t help but spring into action upon hearing a voice, a soft “Shit” coming from the dark. Without thinking, Edd leaped from around the wall, ignoring his every thought that begged him to just let the man leave. That’s what it sounded like he was doing.

Whatever his thoughts, though, Edd couldn’t help but wonder what kind of adrenaline lead him to harshly grab hold of the figure around the corner, eyes adjusting to the sudden lack of brightness.

"Who--" Edd couldn't finish his statement, grip slipping from this random man's clothes. They started to wriggle out of Edd's grip, trying their best to flee, but the brunet just held them tighter. He pulled them back, arms locking around their chest, heavy breathing now sounding as he tried to get the wrestling figure under control. 

Holy fuck, this was easier than Edd thought. Just locking his hands a certain way secured the other, the immense force the cloaked man gave was almost nothing. It also didn’t help how Edd was a whopping 6′4, bigger in size in all ways. He was practically hovering over the shorter man. Not by much, but by way over than enough.

It wasn't until Edd looked down and processed this familiar face that he really loosened his grip. Just enough for the struggling man to notice and pause. 

Edd stared down, and as he did so, the other looked up to meet him with grey colored eyes. Bright, even in the dim setting. 

"Tord?" Edd questioned, voice quiet. He stared at him with such wonder and confusion, arms dropping from him. It took him a second, but Tord eventually regained his composure, stumbling forward and whipping around. He was standing straight in front of Edd. Eyes wide. "What are y… Tord, is that you??"

The other man smiled slightly, giving Edd the stupidest face the brunet's ever seen. It was dorky, that small gap in the Norwegian's front two teeth presenting itself. He raised his hands slightly, looking embarrassed that he had been caught. Especially over the fact that he had pathetically tried to fight Edd off of him. 

"Heeeey, Eeeeeeeeedd…." Tord gave a low chuckle, quickly glancing down the hall behind himself. Edd also took a quick glance behind him, catching eye of the open window and shattered glass. Ah, shit. "Long time no see."

"Y… Tord, what are you doing here?" Edd questioned, coming forward slightly. He raised his hands, waving them slightly. He didn't exactly know what to do with them, didn't know if he should hug Tord or pat him. He was confused. But those nerves didn't disappear. God, no. "I haven't-- You didn't tell me you were coming to visit. It's been years."

"Yeah, I, uhm… I was going to surprise you! I thought I'd pop in last minute, visit since… I had a, uh, dip.. In my schedule." Tord smiled, words lacing over perfectly with a sense of genuine thought. "I, uh, couldn't find the spare key that we used to keep. So I… broke… the window.."

Tord cleared his throat. "Whoops."

The brunet stood there, looking up at the broken window past them. His eyes flickered from Tord to the front door, then back again. He gave the other a smile back. "You didn't bother to check the door?"

"Well, I would've assumed it was locked."

Edd snorted a bit, shaking his head. "Tom got back from a bar about an hour ago. He usually forgets to lock it." Edd pointed past the other, towards the front. 

Tord glanced over his shoulder. And, low and behold, his eyes landed on the handle, door held open a bit and, indeed, unlocked. 

"Oh." Tord stared. He huffed, frowning a bit before looking to Edd. "Well… Shit, aha, surprise! Sorry to wake you up."

"No, no, it's fine. I was already up." Edd waved off, smile slowly forming across his face. 

It was a surprise, it sure as hell was, but Edd couldn’t help that sigh of relief to flutter from him. He was excited, the hands that were raised in the air coming to slowly pat at Tord’s shoulders. 

The other stared at him with a weird look, as if Edd was crazy. And, Edd believed he was. Mostly because it had been so long since Tord had visited from who knows where, and the feelings that whirled in his chest didn’t seem to change. That warmth seeping into his cheeks as his lips parted into an excited grin before pulling Tord in again.

He hugged him. Tightly. Arms wrapping around the other, pulling him in close. He forgot how much he loved feeling Tord tense in his arms. He never really seemed comfortable with big hugs like these anymore, it was clear from the occasional visits, but the Norwegian still returned them nonetheless. Always returned Edd’s big hugs with a tight one of his own.

“You could’ve at least called a couple hours beforehand. The living room looks like shit.” Edd grumbled, a light-hearted annoyance lacing through his words. 

He could almost feel the way Tord’s laugh flowed over his body, shaking a bit as he huffed out loudly in response.

“I used to live here too, you know.” Tord’s low voice droned from the fabric of Edd’s shirt, face pressed into his chest. “You really think I care about a dirty living room? You should see my living room.”

Edd snorted, shaking his head a bit as his arms loosened around the other. He couldn’t help that rush of happiness surge through his arms as he felt Tord look up, not yet stepping back from him. He had the chance to, but he didn’t.

“You’re an idiot.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“Says the one who broke a window to get in even though the door was already open. And unlocked.” Edd piped, shooting the other a prodding stare. “I mean, you could’ve at least--”

“Okay! Okay, I get it, stop teasing me.” Tord complained, finally pushing away from Edd. A small grumble came out, hidden in the midst of Edd’s light chuckles. “God, I forget how annoying you are.”

“Ah, yes. I’m the annoying one.” Edd hummed, grinning at the other before whipping around, leading Tord to the kitchen once more.

The Norwegian followed his footsteps, shooting back another comment, going quiet to listen to Edd’s response. His low grumble, little laughs huffing along his words. Edd was a big man. And in return, that lead to him having a naturally deeper voice. Not by much, but when he’s up in the early hours of the morning, a little like this time, the rumble of his voice box settles at the base of his throat. Too tired to put emotion, but just enough given to make Tord.... feel things.

It was a while since he visited. Ever since he left, Tord made sure to never lose contact completely. He’d visit once every couple years, but it was never more than for a day or two. And he only ever saw Edd. 

Sure, Tord missed Matt and Tom, but it’s not like he really talked to them anymore. He never had Tom’s number to begin with, the little ball of fire blocking Tord whenever they got too angry at each other. Matt and him, no matter how tight they were as friends, just slowly... started drifting apart. Tord wondered why. I mean, Edd mentioned something about that memory erase gun, but the effects of that shouldn’t have lasted so long. Maybe the ginger was just afraid it’d be awkward to try and text him again. 

Matt was anxious sometimes. Sweet and bright as he may be, but a little nervous.

That didn’t matter, though. He’d always have time to chum up with the other two, but it was Edd who he enjoyed spending his time with the most. Sure, he didn’t exactly plan to “visit”, he was actually just ready to pick up his little... toy. 

The thought made his smile droop a bit, eyes flickering back to the hallway that lead to his room. It was locked when he looked at it earlier. He wondered if Edd turned it into a storage room or something.

Thoughts were snapped back into reality as Edd asked him something, the Norwegian blinking for a moment. “W--What? Sorry, I wasn’t, uh..”

“It’s alright. I just asked if you wanted some coffee? Unless you plan to head to sleep, but to be honest, you look as bright and alert as ever.” Edd chirped, picking up the steaming mug from the coffee maker. It was silent now, that buzzing noise it made now gone. 

Now that Tord could see him in better light, the first thing he noticed was the light stubble on the other’s chin. The beginning of a beard on Edd’s face, now hidden behind a mug as it was lifted to those lips of his. 

It made Tord shudder a bit, pulling his eyes up, bright and wide. Observant.

While that peach fuzz the other wore was a sight to see, Tord couldn’t help but lock his eyes on something else. Like the bags under those chocolatey eyes of his. And just how tired Edd actually looked.

Why was he drinking coffee so late? He didn’t plan to actually stay up, was he? And from the looks of it, he was making that before Tord had even broken in. Didn’t he say earlier that he was already up?

“Uh, no, I’m okay.” Tord responded, face kind of slacking at the thought of Edd having sleep troubles. His grey eyes flickered over Edd’s face for no more than a second before staring out the glass doors leading to the yard. “It’s pretty late to be drinking coffee, though. Shouldn’t you be asleep?”

Edd went a bit quiet, bringing his glass cup to his lips, letting it sit there. The void of an answer made Tord shift his eyes back to him, head still tilted towards the grass outside, but eyeing the larger male. All the while sitting down.

“I couldn’t sleep is all.” Edd murmured into his cup, shrugging slightly. “Like always, aha.”

Tord let out an “ah”, slowly nodding his head along before pausing. Pausing because, no, that wasn’t “Like always.” Edd could always sleep without worries, no matter what happened. Back in highschool, he could get into a fight, have a quarrel with somebody, watch some disturbing video and still go out like a light. Edd never took longer than a few minutes to go to sleep. Or, well, that’s how Tord last remembered.

“Oh.”

“Haha, yeah. Don’t worry about it.”

Tord pursed his lips, eyes moving back to the clear view. He eyed the lawn, seeing how it looked untouched and normal like always. He didn’t know why he felt so nervous. From Edd’s happy expression, it was clear that no matter how long Tord had been away, they obviously hadn’t found out about his little secret room yet. They hadn’t discovered anything yet, which was surprising considering they must’ve done something to his room. Maybe while cleaning it out or moving stuff around they found that lever. It was actually quite surprising how they hadn’t seen anything yet.

Tord really wondered how stupid his friends actually were sometimes. “So, I couldn’t help but notice my room was locked. And how we have a second story now?”  Tord blinked his gaze back at the other, watching Edd yawn a bit before settling himself down in front of Tord at the table. 

“Yeah, Matt has a bunch of crap he doesn’t want to throw away so we got an upstairs and stuck him there. He became quite the collector.” Edd rolled his eyes at those words, bringing his coffee mug down to clink loudly on the wooden surface. “Collector my ass. He’s a hoarder. He hoards junk, not collects.”

Tord let out a soft snort, raising a brow as the smile on his face widened. That sure was different too. Matt being a hoarder, having to take up an entire floor to just keep track of all his junk. Tord shouldn’t be thinking that way, though. I mean, he practically had the exact same thing. Except Tord’s stuff wasn’t junk! It was… hmm.

“And my room?”

“Oh, that’s sort of…. Tom’s room now?”

Tord blinked at Edd. The brunet wouldn’t look at him, but the Norwegian waved his hand to try and grab his attention. Edd still didn’t look at him. He continued to stare into his cup, even as he drank from it. “I’m sorry, Edward. Did you just say that my room belongs to Tom now???”

“Maybe?”

“Edd!!!”

“Look! I turned his old room into a swimming pool, he needed a room and the upstairs doesn’t have sections!! It’s one room, I was not about to make him bunk with Matt.” Edd huffed loudly, frowning at the other as he finally looked up. “You’re crazy if you think I can keep Tom alone with Matt. Absolutely insane.”

Tord knitted his brows, looking confused about, well, everything. Did things change that much? Really? I mean, it’s not like he should’ve expected everything to be the same. Afterall, Tord was gone for eight or so years. Things were bound to be different. Even people, he guesses. “Where am I going to sleep then?”

“You’ve lived here, just knock out on the couch for a day or two before you go back, I’m sure you can manage.” Edd scoffed, letting his nails click loudly against his mug. “Or get a hotel room like you did last time. I’m surprised you came straight here to be honest. You haven’t been here since…. Well, since you first left.”

Tord watched Edd for a moment, watched Edd finish up his drink before quickly making his way to the sink. His chair scraped on the tiled floor slightly, the brunet going quiet after his statement. He turned the sink on, faucet spilling water into his now empty cup. Edd licked his lips slightly, feeling how chapped and dry they were. 

He looked uncomfy talking about the subject. Just saying the words “first left” seemed like it made Edd want to quickly direct the conversation another way. It hurt to see that look on his face. Made Tord uncomfortable as well to see just how tired Edd looked. God, why did he look so tired?

Tord fiddled with his thumbs on the table. He had an excuse already made up in his mind, an excuse that he had made up on the car ride here. It wasn’t true, it was really just an excuse to buy him more time, to give him some time to stay here until he got up and left. Tord could spill it now.

Seeing how Edd looked, though, Tord wondered if this was the right choice. He couldn’t take back all he had done but how could he just lie to Edd’s face? Especially if he was bringing his hopes up now only to crush him in the long run. It’s not like Tord can just stop being a leader to an entire damn army, no, he had gone too far. There’s no way he can take it back now.

He was going to hurt Edd in a few days' time, maybe even tomorrow. There was no avoiding it. They would see him come out of the ground with that robot one way or another, it’d take a miracle for them not to notice it. If Tord was lucky, he could get his robot then leave without any of them realizing it was him. He could escape, not say a word. They would never hear from him again and they would never know what happened to him. 

That is, if Tord is lucky. And lucky isn’t really in Tord’s vocabulary. 

“Uh… I mean…” Tord stared harshly at his thumbs. He hated himself for this, but hey, if he was going to break his heart later, then might as well make these last few days worth it. Right? “I was actually thinking about… moving back in?”

Edd twirled around faster than Tord could process, the Norwegian taking a moment to realize that the brunet was stepping back over to him now. He blinked once more, looking up at the other, watching Edd stand beside him with wide eyes.

Wide, beautiful, puppy-like eyes. Edd was so fascinating, wasn’t he? Tord’s favorite person, the only one who really bothered to keep in touch with him. The one who Tord just happened to fall in love with. 

Even after years, seeing that excitement in those eyes of his got Tord melting a bit. Except, he kept his composure. Kept his back straight as that worry in his own eyes crumbled into adoration. Tord couldn’t help but let a wobbly smile form on his lips.

“Really?” Edd questioned, the hopefulness in his voice lighting up Tord’s heart. 

He could feel it thump against his chest a bit faster, the Norwegian wanting so badly to kick his feet with joy. He could watch Edd make that face all day. And to think he was looking positive and happy like that at Tord, wow. God, it was enough to make Tord almost forget about the fact that he really was about to throw their relationship away once he grabbed his robot. That little expression made him almost forget about all he was going to do. 

“Y...Yeah, I came back here because, uh… I’m moving back in.”

“You’re moving back in?”

“Yup.”

“Like…. For real? Real-real?”

“Yes, Edd. For real-real.”

The brunet let out a breathy squeal, doing his best to keep quiet in his excited state. He flailed his hands slightly, waving them around before pulling a laughing Tord up from his seat. “Stop laughing, this is serious!”

“I am being serious, haha. You’re the one flailing like a damn bird.”

“I am not a-- a bird.” Edd scoffed, letting his hands drop. “And can you really blame me for being excited???”

Tord smiled brightly, stumbling as he tried to push in his chair while taking an awfully close step to Edd. He ignored the loud scrape from the chair, ignored how close he was to the brunet. All Tord really focused on was that smile that framed Edd’s face so perfectly. So much so that it made Tord’s heart jumble up in all these mixed feelings of his. “I guess I can’t.”

Edd smiled. That was how it could be simply put. He smiled, and Tord smiled back. And it wasn’t until Tord took another step forward that Edd really took the chance to scoop him up in his arms again. Bringing him so close that Tord had to lean up in the slightest to hug him comfortably.

Big arms around him, Tord smiled. Hugs weren’t his thing, he wasn’t used to being touched and prodded over. Granted, his dads usually liked to smother him, but other than them, no one dared to hug him. Except these idiot friends of his. And Edd.

Edd’s hugs were the best. They made Tord feel safe and he absolutely drowned in the feeling it gave him. He would stand in his arms forever if he could. But Tord’s job didn’t let him do so. He couldn’t have this. And the thought suffocated him.

Edd loosened his grip, prepared to step back, but he paused. Only because Tord’s own hands came around to squeeze him tightly. And he didn’t let go. 

“Not yet.” Tord muttered, voice quiet. He let his head rest on Edd’s shoulder, fingers moving lightly across the back of his shirt. He brought himself close to him again. “Let me just stay here for a bit more.”

Edd bit the inside of his cheek, but he made no objection. He only nodded, a soft little hum escaping him to show his joy before resuming his previous grip.

Tord closed his eyes. He took in a deep breath and stilled his hands, letting them rest around Edd instead of trying to pick and jitter. He wanted to stay here. Enjoy Edd’s hugs until he couldn’t anymore. 

He’d pick up his robot tomorrow. Or maybe the day after that. Tord knew he had to do it soon, but maybe he could delay it. Afterall, it was going to be hard to look into Edd’s face and tell him he never cared about him. That he only came for his equipment. 

Tord was going to miss this. He was going to miss his friends. He was going to miss him, miss Edd. He was going to mess this all up soon and Tord could feel himself grow queasy and the scenarios that piled in his head. God, he was going to break his own heart. He was going to leave Edd behind. 

Just a bit more time in his arms. That’s all Tord asked for, really.

“So… are you going to kick Tom out of my room or what?”

[xmxisxforxmaybe]

Decryption_Error: “Undefined^Behavior”

Summary: Refusing to give up, refusing to shatter the trust she had worked so hard to build, Y/N fights to get Elliot back; only, when she reaches out, she meets someone new. 

Decryption_Error: All Chapters

Word Count: 6200

Tags: @sherlollydramoine @rami-malek-trash @teamwolf2411 @limabein @txmel @alottanothing @ouatlovr @backoftheroomandnotbelonging @moon-stars-soul @free-rami @ramimedley @hopplessdreamer @sweet-charmie @polarcrystall @hah0106 @clumsybookworm18 @diasimar @ramisgirl512​ @aboutthatmelancholystorm​ 

Warnings: Angst and believe it or not, SMUT

I hung up the phone and pushed my chair back from my desk, standing to stretch and shake away the agitations of the day and of my life. Lying for Elliot all week had my mind bouncing between irritation and a desperate, black sadness threatening to swallow me whole if I let myself get too close to it.

As I walked to the panel of windows in my office, I thought back to my conversation with Darlene. When Elliot missed work on Friday, I had texted her that evening to see when she could meet me. Leaning against the cool class of the window, a comforting chill creeping across my arm and my forehead, I was reminded of how she and I watched the people from the coffee shop window as we talked about her brother.

Darlene was not one to get out of bed until double-digits popped up on her alarm clock, so we agreed to meet at a coffee shop about a block from Lafayette and Broome at noon on Saturday.

My eyes swept over the muted beige walls and the dark wooden tables of the small, cozy seating area, and I saw she had snagged a corner stool at the high-table built to look out onto the street. I smiled as I took in her legs as they stretched out across the stool beside her, unapologetically taking up twice the space a person needed. My smile split into a grin as I saw the two extra-large coffees clearly purchased without her even bothering to take off her heart-shaped sunglasses.

Darlene let her legs flop to the underside of her stool as I approached. She spun to face the window, reaching up to slide her sunglasses to the top of her head while I shrugged out of my coat and sat down.

“Thanks for meeting me. And for caffeinating me,” I said as I took a cautious sip, cringing slightly as the scalding coffee washed over my tongue. I longed to guzzle it considering I had barely slept since the incident with Elliot.  

Darlene looked over to give me a flicker of a smile as she twisted her coffee cup between her fingers, her apprehension palpable.

“No big. What’s up?”

I pressed my lips together as I took a breath to buy a moment as Darlene watched me from the corner of her eye.

“Have you talked to Elliot, uhm, since Thursday night?”

I glanced at Darlene’s profile as her big eyes watched the people on the sidewalk scurry by. For once, she was holding back.

“Don’t,” I pressed. “We know each other too well to start holding shit back now.”

Darlene huffed and swirled on her stool. She leaned back into the wall as she looked at me in that same searching way as Elliot, like a child deciding whether or not to reveal their secret for fear of being punished.

“I haven’t talked to him, okay?”

“You know what happened.”

Darlene fidgeted as she plucked at the tights she was wearing under a pair of a stone-washed denim shorts. “He wasn’t answering my texts so I went to see him last night. He was a dick. So I left. We didn’t really chat.”

I took another sip of coffee, formulating what to say next. Any conversation with either of the Aldersons had the potential to turn bad pretty fast. Darlene was always the easiest of the two to be straight with, but if she felt like she needed to protect her brother, I knew I wasn’t going to get very far.

Mostly, I didn’t want her to feel like she was making a choice: me or him. Darlene and I were both on the same side, whether she fully believed it or not.

“He wasn’t himself on Thursday night,” I stated, opting to avoid another question.  

“That’s just it, Y/N. He is himself, right? Isn’t that what’s so fucked up about this whole thing?” Darlene pushed off from the wall and swiveled on her stool again, returning her gaze to the sidewalk. “And he wasn’t, like, the crazy version of himself. He was just . . . a dick. He gets like that sometimes, too.”

“We can all be dicks.”

“Duh. But this was different,” Darlene said, her voice quieting. “I interrupted him.”

A prickle of fear crept down my spine and I tightened my grip on my cup.

“Interrupted what?”

“He was writing a kernel rootkit. When he noticed me looking, that’s when he told me to get the fuck out.”

“And I’m sure you smiled politely and did as he asked,” I said with a huff of a laugh. “I’m guessing there’s no way to swing that it was work-related?”

Darlene chuckled darkly, “Maybe your ship’s gone to shit since you moved up to the big office?”

“Elliot was supposed to be working on new scripts to track WiFi vulnerabilities.”

“Definitely not what he was doing,” she said as exasperation tinged the edges of her words.

I turned away from Darlene’s profile. People were passing quickly by on the sidewalk, tucked into their coats to stop the early-spring wind that always seemed to hold the threat of rain. I watched as cars sat bumper to bumper, waiting for the light at the crosswalk to change.

The longer our silence wore on, the longer I watched such seemingly normal bits of life pass by, the louder my mind repeated the names of the people who had been hacked at my company and at Dad’s.

Colin. Bill. Kurt.

The other anonymous hacks flashed through my mind, the ones I couldn’t assign a name to, and I wondered, really wondered if Elliot was responsible.  

Don’t be crazy.

Elliot and I were together more than we were apart up until a few weeks ago. What could Elliot have even gained from those hacks? They had nothing to do with E Corp, which was the only hack I was really worried about him committing: a vengeance hack.  

“This is such a mess,” I forced myself to say to distract my thoughts before they could spiral. “I need to see him.”

“Give him space. It can be awhile before he’s normal again.”

“He missed work, Darlene. I . . .”

“What?” she said, turning her light blue eyes to my face.

“I lied. Said he had a death in the family.”

“Fuck!” Darlene said too loudly, making me jump and drawing the eyes of other patrons.

“Jesus,” I hissed, “What’s wrong?”

“I fucking hate this!” she said, her voice low again. “We were hanging out more. Having fun. He was . . . happy. I was happy. Things felt normal for fucking once and here we fucking go again. I can’t keep doing this shit.”

My lips turned down in a frown of compassion. Sometimes I forgot how young Darlene really was.

“You aren’t his keeper, Darlene. He should be taking care of you. Actually, you should be taking care of each other.”

She made a little huff of derision.

“Yeah fucking right.”

“I’m serious. You need to prioritize your own well-being.”

“He’s all I have, Y/N. He’s all I’ve ever had,” Darlene said sadly, then with irritation, “But I’m sick of his fucking shit.”

“I wanted to talk to you today because I’m not giving up on him without a damn good fight. I promised you that.”

Darlene took a big gulp of her coffee and without turning to look at me, she linked her arm in mine as it sat on the tabletop and leaned into me, resting her head on my upper arm.

I sighed, “Let me take care of him this time,” and tilted my head so it was resting on top of hers, the slight warmth radiating out to my cheek.

We sat like that for a long time as I reminded myself that all Elliot needed was one more reason to close himself off forever. I started our relationship knowing he had an inability to trust people, an inability to even like people. It was clear he had never let someone in this far before and the appearance of this other told me I was right.

We watched the people outside, feeling like we were actually the outsiders, looking in on something we couldn’t understand. As I breathed in her scent, oddly similar to Elliot’s, I realized that Darlene hadn’t let anyone in this far either, not in a long, long time.

* * * * *

I pushed back from my office window and rubbed at the cool spot on my arm, nibbling at my lower lip as I thought about how I took Darlene’s advice and gave Elliot space.

Except that under the guise of giving him space, I was actually scratching a very selfish itch.

My parents had kept their apartment uptown as they transitioned to permanently living in Greenwich, deciding that it was more convenient to keep it while Dad still sat on the board. Their apartment was close to a library that was open late into the evenings because of the slew of after-school programs it ran for kids with nowhere else to go. So, instead of going home to my empty apartment, I took the 4 uptown and spent most of the evening diving through psychiatric volumes on disorders that fit Elliot’s symptoms. I was smart enough not to so much as google anything slightly related to Elliot’s possible condition; I didn’t trust that he wasn’t keeping tabs on me in the best, safest way he knew how.

I started with the list Jill had ticked off months ago, and after eliminating anxiety and most stress disorders, I was left straddling dissociative identity disorder and schizophrenia.

After spending so much time with Elliot, I couldn’t recall any instances when he seemed to hear or see things that weren’t there. I couldn’t even really recall him being flat or withdrawn, something schizophrenics tended to be as a result of everything that was going on in their minds. Elliot was almost always happy, or at least content and relaxed, when he was with me; if he was distant, it was because he was sad and it almost always had to do with him believing I was unhappy or upset with him.

I also hadn’t noticed any episodes of him losing time aside from the server room incident and Jared’s smashed nose, which both surely qualified as being traumatic enough to trigger a flashback.

According to my research, traumatic experiences didn’t trigger schizophrenia—that was DID. And what I witnessed on the Fourth and on Thursday was someone protecting Elliot. The more I pushed about the cause of his changes or outbursts, the angrier that protective personality got.

Both disorders scared me because I knew neither one could be addressed without psychiatric care. Schizophrenia, at least, could be managed with medication, but DID was a developmental disorder with no medication available to treat it, psychotherapy and behavioral modification being the most practiced options.

After nearly a week had passed with no word from Elliot, I texted Jill. I was armed with my research and ready to seek a medical opinion. Being a PA in an ER had exposed her to a lot of patients with mental health issues. If anyone could discreetly give me some more information, it would be her.

I finally walked away from the window and back to my desk, settling in to answer the cache of emails that never seem to stop growing. I glanced at the clock on my computer five times before I squeezed my eyes shut and willed myself to focus on work until I needed to leave.

I kept all my texts ambiguous, no longer trusting in Elliot’s promise to ask, not hack. My message to Jill was lighthearted, a simple, friendly check-in since I hadn’t seen her much since Christmas.

It was just after 7 when I popped into the hospital cafeteria, my eyes catching the wave of Jill’s hand as I scanned the room.

“Hey, babe! It’s been a minute!”

“A long, long minute,” I said as I sat down in front of her, twisting to hang my tote off the back of my chair.

“What happened?” Jill asked, as she bit into her sandwich wrap.

“I don’t even know where to start.”

“Weren’t things literally rosy on Valentine’s Day?” she asked, her words slightly muffled as she chewed.

“Yeah,” I sighed, “Things were.”

I stopped and bit my lip, surprised by the tears that filled my eyes. Sometimes friends could bring out your vulnerabilities just because you knew they loved you without condition.  

Jill put her wrap down and waited, her face soft, compassionate. It was no wonder she was so damn good at taking care of people.

“I guess … we just stopped communicating. And it built into this weird tension.”

I knew I had to be careful—I trusted Jill, but there was no way I could tell her, or anyone, about E Corp.

“Do you remember the night you met Elliot?” I asked in a rush.

“Hard to forget. Handsome and wounded. Rescued by the one person who’s always trying to save everyone from their worst selves.”

I smiled, a quick upturn of my lips to show my appreciation for her assessment of me.

“You have no idea just how wounded, Jill.”

I took a deep breath and recounted what happened in my apartment a week ago with as much detail as I could. My eyes were fixed on her sandwich as I fought to maintain an even tone.

When I finally lifted my eyes, to meet her serious gaze, I continued, “And he—whoever he is … was—that was the last I saw of him. I’ve tried calling, texting, emailing. And I tried from work, too. I had to lie to HR today so I know I’ve got to go see him. I can’t just let him fall into the void, but I need to know—what the fuck was that?”

“Shit, Y/N,” Jill breathed.

“Any ideas? I know you’re not a psychiatrist, but you see a lot of people in a day.”

“You said it was like he wasn’t himself? Like he was a completely different person?”

“Yes.”

“Did his voice change pitch?”

“No … but the intonation was different. The words he used were different. It wasn’t like Elliot at all.”

“Was he Elliot when you first got home—like for sure?”

I thought for a moment and nodded yes.

“Did anything happen, even something seemingly normal before he changed?”

“What do you mean?

“Well, like a tic. A neck crack, a twitch, body tensing, fluttering eyelids—even a prolonged blink.”

“Yeees,” I said slowly, then excitedly, “Yes! His eyelids fluttered and … and it seemed like he was withdrawing into himself.”

Jill was quiet, her brows furrowed as she thought. With an even voice, one that I recognized as her doctor-voice, she said, “I really think it’s dissociative identity disorder.”

“I do, too,” I replied with a sigh of relief. “I’ve been researching.”

“Unsurprising,” Jill said with a small smile.

“What do I do? Do I tell him—”

“No,” Jill answered quickly. “He needs to see a psychiatrist. DID is an incredibly complex disorder. People who have it spend a lot of time pretending to be normal, and there are parts of Elliot that may believe they are perfectly normal—maybe not normal, but at least in control. It’s all a part of the system’s coping mechanisms. If DID was easy to detect, it wouldn’t serve its purpose of protecting the core from their trauma.”

“So my research was right—DID is the result of severe trauma.”

“Severe, yes. Also, prolonged emotional, physical, or sexual abuse. Because DID usually begins in childhood, most cases involve parental neglect. A child is rarely able to cope with any sort of abuse on their own, so without a parental protector, the mind copes with that abuse anyway it can.”

“From what Elliot’s sister told me, neglect only begins to describe what their mother did to them.”    

“Y/N. You can’t fix everyone who needs fixing.”

“You sound like Franco.”

Jill sighed, a smirk turning up the corners of her lips.

“I just want you to be careful. You absolutely cannot handle this on your own. Elliot needs professional help.”

“Can he—” I struggled to ask the one thing that scared me the most, the one thing never clearly answered in my research, “Can he ever get better?”

Jill frowned, “There’s no definitive answer. Some psychologists believe that if the alters can be integrated, a person with DID can live a normal life. But that doesn’t mean it’s a cure. A person with DID will always run the risk of dissociating. And if more trauma occurs, more alters may be created. It’s—complicated.”  

“I never really knew there was anything wrong until Elliot was triggered. What if he’s not triggered anymore?”

“Well, that’s part of the most effective treatment. He needs to explore his triggers, learn his trauma, and heal. It’s years of therapy,” Jill said as she reached out and squeezed my arm.

“I love him.”

Jill finally smiled, “I know you do. And he loves you. I have no doubt about that, babe. But you have to realize there are no guarantees with this disorder. I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

“He’s worth the risk.”

I was already resigned to fight for Elliot. Every bit of our relationship was one step forward, two steps back, so it came as no surprise that with a leap forward, it was time to damn near fall back off a cliff.

* * * * *

Later that evening, close to 10, I used my key to let myself into Elliot’s apartment.

I was unsurprised to find it empty but surprised to find it in the same state of mess it had been over Memorial Day weekend: Dishes in the sink, unmade bed, clothes scattered, an ashtray near the window almost overflowing, and the trash full.

I took a step toward the garbage bin and realized that it was full of packaging materials and old computer parts.

Why the hell did he need to do a complete scrub?

I walked over to his computer desk and realized everything was new—tower, monitors, all of it had to have been purchased since the last time I had spent the night.

My mind again flashed to the hacks, and there was a gnawing in my stomach that I knew I couldn’t dismiss. Maybe Elliot wasn’t capable of such destruction and manipulation, but whoever he was when he wasn’t Elliot sure as hell might be.

With a sigh of mental exhaustion and because I had no idea how long I’d need to wait, I started fusspotting. I made Elliot’s bed, or at least I started to. As soon as I caught that sweet, citrusy scent of his shampoo mixed in with stale cigarette smoke, I spent the next few minutes sobbing into his pillow. He was broken and I was helpless to put him back together.

But I wasn’t helpless to pull myself together, so I sat up, scrubbed the tears off my cheeks and after a hearty sniff, I finished making his bed.

I glanced at his computer again, and felt a strong pull, like when high tide is coming in and the ocean’s waves are crashing and pulling with a ferocity. I could feel the water rushing past me, sucking me into the abyss.  

I took another step toward his desk, my fingers twitching at my sides. I glanced at the door to his apartment before I slid my hand over the cool wood of the back of the chair.

My mind was at war.

Elliot hacked me.

Because he didn’t trust me yet.

He hacked my ex-boyfriends.

Because he didn’t trust himself.

He hurt me.

I withheld information about his own father.

Elliot loves me.

And I love him.

I backed away from the desk, swallowing thickly, my heart beating fast. I ran a shaky hand through my hair as I made my way into the kitchen and flung open the cupboard where Elliot kept his dish soap. I filled the sink with scalding water and concentrated on getting the few dishes in the sink commercial-clean.  

I cleared the counter of the few take out containers that let me know he had at least eaten something this past week, and I stuffed them into the already full trash. I took the trash out to the dumpster alongside the building, and returned to the apartment, still empty.

I looked around for Elliot’s weed box and contemplated smoking up, but there was nothing inside. He was either too busy to refill or he was smoking that much now.

I scrolled through my phone, blindly reading a few work emails before I stopped and pulled up my messages. I stared at the screen, Elliot’s name already typed, a stupid black heart beside his name which felt achingly symbolic now. I had thought it was funny once—my dark little soul in his dark jeans with his dark hair.

I typed a message telling him I was waiting at his place but I deleted it, realizing that if I spooked him, I had no idea when I’d get another chance to talk to him.

Tossing my phone on his worn couch, I stood up and began pacing. After several laps, I pulled a book off the shelf and settled on Elliot’s mattress to read, my nervous energy slowly giving way to tiredness as the night wore into morning.

My head snapped up when I heard the keys in the lock; it was 2:30 in the morning when he finally came home, backpack on, hood up, my little black heart finally in front of me for the first time in a week.

He started to shrug out of his backpack as he walked further into the room, but he noticed me as I shifted on his bed, my feet sliding off the mattress to ground myself on the floor.

He froze.

His eyes were wide, staring at me like this was the first time he had ever seen me. Then they started to dart all around his apartment. I could see the panic settle across his features, and I tossed the book off my lap as I stood.

“Where the hell have you been?” I said with an anger that startled us both.

Elliot’s eyes washed over my face in a wave of apprehension, but he remained silent, his eyes moving away from my gaze to focus on the book I had dropped on the bed.

The longer he was silent, the more agitated I got. I knew what was going on wasn’t his fault, but it wasn’t fair he got a pass for walking out on me, consciously or not, I really didn’t care at the moment.  

“I lied for you, Elliot. First Ali, then HR. I told them your mother died because you’ve been gone for a fucking week.”

His head snapped up and he fixed his eyes on me for a few seconds before reverting them to the floor. He shrugged the rest of the way out of his backpack, tossing it beside the kitchen table. He glanced up again, his gaze traveling slowly up my face to look at me once more, his eyes a stormy hue as they peered at me from beneath his hood.

Still, he said nothing.

“Well? Where have you been?”

He took a deep breath, his mouth hanging open just a bit as he pulled his hood down and subconsciously fixed his hair.

I froze, my own face twisting into confusion.

There was something different about his movements.

This Elliot was slower, more deliberate, as if he were carrying on a conversation inside of his head before he decided to do anything, even blink.

“You know what—fine,” I said quietly, my mind swirling with a confused anger that I was now using to build a barrier between us. “You win. Everything is always on your terms. Fuck you, Elliot.”

His eyes snapped to mine as I took a few bold steps forward, determined to brush past him and get the fuck out of his apartment.

But he closed the distance between us, moving more swiftly than he had since he walked in the door. He grabbed my shoulders and stilled me. My eyes were burning into his as his searched my face, as he looked at me as if maybe he’d never seen me clearly before.

“How could you do this to us?” I asked, my voice a choked whisper, my eyes bouncing between his as I prayed to whatever god that was listening that he would finally answer me.

“Us?” he questioned in a gruff voice, his brows drawn and his eyes still the dark grey of a sky before a storm, still searching.

“Us,” I repeated, my voice barely audible.

His eyes bore into mine, contemplating, struggling to understand, then suddenly he closed what distance was left between us and kissed me.

When my lips parted with a soft oh of surprise, he pushed his tongue into my mouth as his fingers dug into my shoulders, steadying me.

My mind raced.

Elliot didn’t kiss like this.

Elliot didn’t move like this.

Elliot didn’t burn like this.

I pushed him back and stared at him, wondering if he was the same as he’d been in my apartment, but there was no iciness in his gaze, no boldness: only an unabashed want, a need. He seemed . . . more Elliot than not.

And I missed him.

I stepped closer to him, my hands shaky as they reached up to cradle the back of his head and the side of his face.  

“Is this—is this okay?” he asked, his voice thick with lack of use, as one of his hands circled my waist and flattened against the small of my back while the other moved to tangle in my hair.

“I’ve missed you,” I said in answer, leaning in to kiss him, to get lost in this not-quite-Elliot.

I knew I shouldn’t, but I couldn’t stop myself. Looking back, I should have known in that moment that if I was too weak to resist him, I was going to be powerless when he needed me to stop him—when he needed me to protect him from this part of himself, a part that would prove far more dangerous than his protector.  

His hands were roaming over my body, grasping and kneading as we made quick work of each other’s clothes. He walked me back toward the bed, and I expected him to comment on the fact I made it, but he didn’t.

This Elliot didn’t care.

His hands found my shoulders and pushed me down, my breasts bouncing as they hit the mattress, but he was on top of me before my heart could even hammer out its next beat.

He stopped attacking my mouth long enough to pull back as he dragged his fingers over my body, pressing into my soft flesh and leaving little red lines that seemed to fascinate him until he bent to lick along wherever he left a trail.

His want was palpable, as if he had gone without human contact for far too long.

I tried to push him off so I could settle on top of him and slow things down, but he pushed back, clearly craving control.

His body was heavy on top of mine, pressing into me as he slid his hand between my legs, his fingers becoming slick with my arousal, especially once he pushed two of them inside of me, pumping once … twice, before he replaced his fingers with his cock.

I groaned as I yielded to him, my eyes slipping shut for a moment as I shuddered when he bottomed out.

His eyes were shut tight as he began to move in me, so I reached up and squeezed his shoulders before sliding my hands around the base of his neck, squeezing at his throat until his eyes shot open, his mouth parting in a long sigh of satisfaction.

I couldn’t read him at all as he looked at me, his eyes now making a solid argument for dark blue.

His eyes stayed locked on mine as he bucked his hips into me.

I moved my hands down to his chest, grasping at his pecs before he grabbed one of my wrists and squeezed, shifting as he pinned it above my head. He did the same to my other hand and I clutched onto the edge of the mattress since he didn’t have a headboard.

He stretched out over me, holding my hands in place as he fucked me.

“Control? Is that what you need?” I breathed out.

He said nothing, but he released my wrists and moved onto his haunches, pulling me with him.

Elliot did not have sex like this.

He grasped me around my rib cage as he pushed into me, fucking me slowly until his fingers crawled to the flesh of my breasts. He kneaded them, tweaking my hard nipples before he grasped onto the sides, pushing them together as he started to pound into me.

His fingers dug into the flesh of my tits as he picked up his pace and pounded into me, and I knew there would be tiny bruises in the morning. Air was escaping his mouth in breathy little pants, and still, he didn’t speak.

My fingers clenched around the edge of the mattress as I braced myself against him, wanting to take it all, wishing I could give it back—I wanted to consume his anger and his hurt, but I also wanted to feed him mine.

He pulled out of me with a hiss and scrambled to stand beside the bed. He held his hand out for me and when he yanked me to the edge of the mattress, he reached down and gathered a handful of my hair. He held me still as he pressed his cock against my lips, silently commanding me to open for him.  

He was so quiet as he slid past my lips and onto my tongue; the only noises he emitted were sighs and low moans. He didn’t ask permission to come in my mouth and I added that to the list of reasons this was not-Elliot.

Not-Elliot, who watched with fascination as I swallowed every bitter drop he left in my mouth.

I barely had time to take a breath before I found myself pushed back on the mattress with his face between my legs. His lips immediately wrapped around my clit and sucked with fervor, demanding my orgasm instead of coaxing it. I tried to squirm away, the feeling too much, too soon, and when I firmly told him to stop, he did.

He looked up, his lips still glossy with my arousal, his face a twisted combination of confusion and frustration. It was clear a very strong part of him did not want to obey my request.

“Ease up. Please.”

He lowered his gaze slowly before he dipped his face back between my legs; this time, his tongue worked my clit and the little noises that escaped from his mouth made me impossibly wet.

I felt my orgasm building, my body desperate to clench around something, but he was either denying me intentionally or denying me because he didn’t know my body like Elliot did.

I had to settle for thrusting my hand into his hair and grinding up against his face as I came; he took it, burying his face against my heat as if he couldn’t get enough.

For only a moment, a hummingbird heartbeat, I relaxed into the mattress as my senses returned.

But before I even opened my eyes, he maneuvered my body onto all fours and was sliding into me with a long, low moan.

Elliot and I had a solid, satisfying sexual connection, but tonight, this part of himself was unleashed, like he had been caging some form of an animal-self.

We fucked for well over another hour and by the time he came again, this time while buried deep inside me, we were both spent, sweaty, bruised and scratched.

By the time I came out of the bathroom, he was asleep, passed out on his back, the sheet barely covering his body despite the chill that had crept into the apartment. I laid down and pulled the comforter up over both of us, keeping to myself on one side of his bed and wondering what the fuck just happened.

I didn’t want to fall asleep because I needed to be at work in a few hours, but I must have dozed off because I woke up to Elliot’s fingers ghosting over his handywork on my chest. When I opened my eyes, I startled him, his hand freezing along with his face.

With one long look into his eyes, I knew; whoever he was last night, was gone.

“If you want to keep your job, you’re going to have to come back to work on Monday.”

I knew he was listening, but he couldn’t take his eyes off the fingerprint bruises on my breasts. He swallowed thickly as his fingers brushed across a red scratch on my arm.

“You were a little rough last night.”

“I hurt you.”

“I let you.”  

Elliot’s eyes filled with tears and he began to move away from me, his hand lifting off of my skin like it was poison.

“Do you remember last night? Or the past few days?”

He looked at me, helpless and hopeless, as a tear crested and slid down his face.

“You have to see someone, El. I can’t handle this on my own.”

He swiped at his eyes and at his cheek before he nodded in agreement.

“Come here,” I said softly, opening my arms so he could settle onto my chest.

I held him tightly, refusing to let him put anymore distance between us, and eventually, I felt his body shift and his arms circle around me.

“I—” he croaked and then tightened his grip.

“I’ll go. I’ll do whatever you want because I can’t lose you.”

“That’s the problem, El. You have to want to get better. Not because I want you to—but because you want to.”

“I want to be normal,” he said, his voice a desperate ache.

“At least I finally understand what that means,” I said with a dark, soft chuckle. “I fought you on it, but you’ve been right all along. You hurt so deeply. Until you stop hurting, you’re never going to feel normal.”

“Don’t—please don’t leave me.”

“I don’t want to leave you. But if you can’t stop hurting, you’re not going to stop hurting me. I can’t—I’m not a saint, Elliot. I get angry, depressed, and when you hurt me, it’s the scariest, most empty feeling I’ve ever had.”

I felt his tears start to spill onto my chest, hot and wet, and my own eyes welled up in response.  

“I’m so sorry,” he rasped, his voice thick with tears.

“Oh, El,” I breathed, burying my face in his hair. “I love you.”

“I’ll go. I want to go,” he said with a determined desperation, his voice breaking its characteristic monotone.

“Okay,” I whispered into his hair, not bothering to hide the relief I felt.

* * * * *

Glassy-eyed and in yesterday’s clothes, I texted my secretary to let her know I was running late. I wanted nothing more than to crawl into my bed, my exhaustion a malignance, settled deep, all the way to my bones.

But I had Elliot, my Elliot, back.

And more importantly, he knew he had a problem that was beyond his control and he was finally willing to face it. If we could just get through this next stage, I knew there wouldn’t be anything left that our relationship couldn’t weather.

I snagged a seat on the train and I leaned back, my body gently lurching from side to side as the train sped toward my apartment.

The clatter of the train and the quiet of the early-morning car permitted my mind to drift back to the Fourth of July, and I was assaulted by a deep sense of happiness, by a longing for a real future with Elliot.

I saw him, my little niece sitting on his lap, but slowly, Molly’s hair darkened and instead, there was a little boy, the spitting image of his beautiful father, sitting in Elliot’s lap. The little boy’s face was filled with awe as he watched the fireworks explode overhead.

This imagined Elliot turned to me and smiled with a picture-perfect grin of contentment.

Yes, I thought, my mind flirting with the edges of sleep, falling into a dreamy, dangerous state of half-consciousness, dangerous because my mind was too awake to ever forget the image I had just created.

Yes, I thought. It’s possible.    

[sprnklersplashes]

written in ink (cadnis one-shot)

Ever since Janis could read, she's known one of the biggest plot twists in Harry Potter. Not because she worked it out, but because it's been tattooed on her skin all her life. Her soulmate spoiled Dumbedore's death for her.

The AU where the first words you hear your soulmate say are tattooed on your body, Cadnis style.

Since she was old enough to read, Janis had wondered what her soulmate’s first words to her could mean. It’s pretty scary, especially for a kid, knowing that the first words you ever hear your soulmate saying will be about someone dying. She’s puzzled over who the future death might be even more than she has about who her future soulmate might be. She doesn’t want to ask her parents for fear it’s someone close to them, nor does she think to look it up at her young age and so for the first few years of her life her world is dominated by one, huge, unavoidable question; who in her future dies, and what they are to her soulmate.

But then she’s old enough to know about Harry Potter, and she doesn’t need to wonder any more.

Her soulmate tattoo, etched in black across her ribs, reads I just can’t believe Dumbledore died.

She got two pages into Philosopher’s Stone before she made the connection and flung the book across her bedroom, her eyes popping out of her head and her jaw on the floor. The first question on her mind is “what kind of insane author kills off the main character’s mentor?”, but soon she’ll learn that frankly, that is the least of JK Rowling’s problems. The second question is “so… my soulmate is into Harry Potter?”. And then the third question comes slowly, creeping into her brain with tentative steps and simmering excitement, “so when do I get to meet them?”.

She doesn’t get a quick answer to that last one.

It’s a bit of a pain really, having a major spoiler to everyone’s favourite book series permanently written on her body. For one, there’s always a surge of pity in her chest when she sees people with the books, oblivious to the impending death of a beloved parental figure. Like God’s cursed her with forbidden knowledge that places her above her classmates, where she can watch them live in blissful ignorance until they reach the fated book or movie or just Google it because they’re too impatient. Janis is denied that luxury, her knowing of events yet to come too much for her to even give the books a chance. They’re not worth the way her heart clenches painfully in her chest whenever the wise old wizard comes in.

Okay that was an exaggeration. There are far better books out there that she’s happy to read. But that doesn’t change how the words seem to burn on her skin. No one likes spoilers after all.  So when she changes before PE it’s in half the time it takes the other girls and she covers it up with make-up during the summer. And then kids start to get nosy and what should be an intimate secret is tossed around carelessly, and she starts teaching herself the art of lying.

Regina’s the one who asks first. They’re 12 and it’s a sleepover and she’s sprawled across her bed, her chin resting on her closed fist, her eyes glinting dangerously in the half-light.

“Okay Janis. Truth or dare.”

“Truth,” she chooses. She’s not scared of dares, but she’s smart enough to know better than to take a dare from her.

“Okay,” she says, her lips curling into a sly smirk, one that makes Janis bite on the inside of her cheek and wish she could take it back. Sometimes she forgets how slippery Regina can be, especially on days like today when she’s been nothing but bouncy and fun and kind. She forgot that this side to her best friend even existed, the side that takes jokes too far and tries to pry Janis open like she’s a treasure chest. All that comes back to her when she tosses her perfect hair over her shoulder and raises her eyebrow, and she’s reminded that sometimes she doesn’t actually like hanging out with Regina.

She’s also reminded that she hates Truth or Dare.

“What does your soulmate tattoo say?”

“That’s private,” Janis reminds her, hugging the pillow tighter against her chest. “You’re only meant to tell your soulmate.”

“I know,” she scoffs, rolling off the bed and shuffling towards Janis. “But everyone tells people. And if you can’t tell me, your best friend, who can you tell?” Her tone is like the satin sheets on her bed, soft and comforting and familiar that Janis almost falls for it and tells her. Besides, Regina doesn’t even read Harry Potter, right? So it’s not like she would care… But other people might. And Regina might tell other people. Or Gretchen. Or Karen. Most likely Karen. And Karen could tell who-knows-who, who could tell who-knows-who, and then before she knows it she’s ruined Harry Potter for her entire grade. And then anything could happen to her. Taylor Wedell got her head shoved in a toilet for spoiling the end of Gossip Girl. And Janis really likes her head.

“I’m not telling, Regina,” she says, shrugging. “I’m sorry. That’s private.”

But there’s no word Regina George hates more than ‘no’. Her eyes narrow and her face falls into a pout even as she shrugs it off, telling Janis that she’s making a big deal out of nothing and if she won’t tell her that’s her problem. Janis tries to make it up to her, saying that she can ask anything else, but Regina won’t listen, deciding she wants to braid Karen’s hair instead.

They spend the rest of the night in a prickly silence and it takes a week before Regina returns to normal after that.

Damian is her next friend and he’s far better company than Regina is. He shows her his tattoo of his own volition, proudly extending his arm so she can see the words ‘can you do that again?’ written there in a rushed scribble. He confesses that he’s compared it with every other boy’s notes in their year, trying to see if he’s already met his other half and just forgot.

“I don’t think you can do that,” she tells him as they walk home from school one day, aged fourteen. “My mom said that when my dad first spoke to her it changed everything else. Like the minute she heard those words, nothing else mattered. She described it as some flower opening up in her chest.” She rolls her eyes a little, unsure if she’s inclined to believe all that. “It was really poetic.”

“Sounds beautiful,” he remarks, kicking up a pile of leaves. “Is that why you won’t tell me yours?”

“Sort of,” she sighs. “Hey, do you like Harry Potter?”

“I guess,” he replies. “I mean I’m more of a fan of the lore than of the books itself, what’s your house, I’m a Hufflepuff-”

It’s months later when they watch the sixth movie for the first time. The two of them on the sofa in Damian’s basement, Janis half-paying attention, half-working on a drawing. Damian is on the edge of the couch, his eyes wide and his hand slapping Janis’ leg every ten minutes. Despite telling herself she doesn’t care, she does, but it isn’t in the way Damian thinks she does. Her heart hammers against her ribs through the whole movie and nearly stops in every scene Dumbledore is in as she wonders if this is it, the moment she’s had carved into her skin her whole life.

She lets out a loud, relieved “finally!” when he eventually up and dies, prompting Damian to turn to her with his mouth open and his eyebrows shot up to the ceiling, a silent ‘Janis, what the fuck’ on his face.

And it’s then she tells him, tells him about the words on her chest and the secret she’s kept and how someone she’s never met ruined one of the biggest franchises in pop culture for her.

Damian laughs so hard his cat has to run over and check he’s not dead.

                                                                                                    *****

Janis sits on her desk in the art room, studying her piece from every new angle she can find. Not many people are in, given that it’s only the second week of junior year, which gives her a space to work on her own. Thanks to her spending the better part of her freshman and sophomore lunch periods in here, the art teacher gives her free range over the place and leaves for her cigarette breaks when she comes in, telling her not to touch anything and help herself to the cookies in her drawer but not to tell anyone else. And with just two seniors in and devoted to their work, she sits on the desk, her foot on the chair and a paintbrush between her fingers, trying to find the right colour.

“Good morning starshine!” Damian sings, earning him glares from the seniors. “Ooft, tough crowd.”

“They’re trying to focus,” she tells him, handing him a cookie. Sure Miss Peters said not to give the cookies to anyone, but Damian’s not anyone.

“My apologies to them,” he says in a low voice, leaning against the table and taking in her newest piece, a mermaid with flowing black hair and delicate purple eyes, the little fangs on her mouth the only allusion to the danger she holds. “That’s cool.”

“You think?” she replies, pride thumping in her chest.

“I know,” he says firmly, a smile on his face and the kind of wholesome honesty that only moms, grandmas and Damian Hubbard know how. “Did you hear the tea?”

“What?” She avoids school gossip like the plague, knowing all too well how it feels to be on the receiving end, but if Damian is telling her it’s either important, completely harmless or hilarious.

“There’s a new girl in our grade,” he tells her. So it’s the first one. “The student activities committee was telling me. Apparently she moved here from…. Kenyaaaa…” He drags the ‘a’ out for as long as his mighty lungs will allow, wiggling his eyebrows for dramatic effect.

“That’s neat,” she remarks, secretly getting a kick of Damian’s wounded puppy ‘why aren’t you appreciating my dramatics’ face. It’s a little more than neat, new kids aren’t really common in North Shore, especially ones from Kenya. “What’s her name?”

“Katie Heron, apparently,” he says. He opens his mouth to say more but he’s cut short by the bell ringing, ending their free period. With a sigh, Janis places her picture back in her folder and tucks it under her arm. Damian skips along beside her, filling her in on the whispers of the drama department about the upcoming musical and telling her he’s secured a room for their LGBTQ+ club movie night on Friday. She chats along, suggesting some more movies to add to their list and agrees what snacks to bring and asks him to get a list of dietary requirements from everyone. The normal kind of stuff that she deals with on normal school days.

But in the very very back of her mind, the name ‘Katie Heron’ sticks, and she’s not entirely sure why.

As fate would have it, she sees the new girl at lunch. It’s pure chance, she just happens to look up at the right moment in the right direction and sees an unfamiliar face in the cafeteria. And quite frankly, she’s pretty. She’s tiny, impossibly tiny, as in a kind of tiny that should probably not be legal, with long, caramel-coloured hair, braided at the top and the rest falling past her shoulders. She’s not too far away from her and she can see the wide smile on her face, innocent and excited, dimples in her rosy cheeks, and while she can’t see what colour her eyes are, she can see them lighting up as she looks around the cafeteria. She stands out, even in her cargo shorts and plaid shirt. Like the rest of the cafeteria-including Janis- was drawn in pencil but she was drawn in pen.

There’s something in her gut, something pushing her to go say hi, maybe invite her to sit with them even though that wouldn’t be normal for her. Damian’s the one who does that anyway and she’s just the arm candy. There’s no reason she should single this girl out other than the fact that she’s new. And she looks a little lonely, wandering around tables, her neck craning for an empty seat. Maybe Damian can do the talking and she can just smile.

Janis very nearly does approach her. She pushes herself up and makes to head in her direction. But one thing, one crucial thing, stops her.

Regina. Regina slides up to the new girl with a beaming smile and a no-doubt sweet, breathy voice, touching new girl-Katie’s-shoulder and tugging on her arm, asking her to come have lunch when them at their table, all the way on the other side of the cafeteria. She happily agrees and Regina links arms with her and escorts her away from the art freaks and towards Plastic Land, where Regina’s word is the word of God. She can tell her anything and New Girl will believe her.

Janis slumps back down, a cold, heavy weight in her stomach. She scoffs at herself and shakes her head, no clue why she’s so upset, since she doesn’t even know her. Damian’s eyes meet hers and he pats her shoulder sympathetically, a ‘maybe next time’ said softly to her. But when she spies her at the Plastic’s table amongst the pink and gold, she wonders with a heavy heart if there will be a next time.  

She crosses paths with the new girl three times in the following week. During that week she learns that her name is Cady with a C, a D and a Y, not Katie. She also learns that she’s taking AP calculus, she really likes math and that she used to live with animals. She also works out that she’s in her French class but was sick that day, and that the empty seat captured her attention more than anything their teacher said did.

She’s also learning that she might be becoming a stalker.

“So are you going to talk to her?” Damian asks her during gym.

“Why would I?” she replies, slowing down her pace once she’s out of the coach’s vision.

“Because you like her,” she replies, drawing out the ‘like’ for as long as his lungs will allow, as though the longer he says it the more Janis likes her.

“I don’t even know her,” she reminds him. “You probably know her better than I do.”

“Yes, and I know you better than you know you. So I know you like her.” She rolls her eyes, unable to find it in her to correct him. It’s not untrue. “I also watched you obsessively stalk her Instagram and Facebook accounts for a solid thirty minutes so...”

“Oh stop,” she scoffs, laughter in her voice. “You didn’t stop me so that’s 90% on you.”

“Oh so I have to steer you straight?”

“Well that would be an accomplishment,” she grins. “Considering.”

“Hubbard, Sarkisian!” the coach barks at them from the middle of the field. “Pick up the pace and stop the chatting or it’s two more laps!”

They speed ahead and lower their voices, privately discussing what they think of the coach and his new shorts and what they’d like to do to his head with those dodgeballs.

                                                                                               *****

By Friday, Janis has almost forgotten about her crush-that’s-not-a-crush on Cady. Well, she’s not forgotten it but she’s put it to the side. Well, not to the side, but it’s away for now. Well, not away but… Cady wasn’t the first thing on her mind when she woke up, so she’s calling it progress.

At least the LGBT+ movie night provides a welcome distraction. They only have the hall for the next few hours, just enough time for Pride and Love, Simon and finishing off with a few episodes of One Day At A Time, which is a cheat, since they’re not movies, but they’re the only thing short enough to fill the remaining time.

Janis takes charge of snacks while Sonja and Sophie argue with the IT guy over how to use the projector, Sophie’s hand on her girlfriend’s shoulder, pulling her down when she gets too heated. Janis tries not to wonder if her girlfriend will do that for her one day. She’s trying to banish all thoughts of romance entirely, but Sonja is leaning on Sophie and holding her hand as they look at the computer together and it makes Janis’ chest ache and images of a certain brunette creep into her mind.

The more she tries not to think about Cady, the more she does, so much so that when the doors open and Cady jumps in with the Mathletes and their matching jackets, Janis is half-sure she’s imagining it.

And then she panics.

“Holy crap,” she whispers, slapping Damian’s shoulder again and again until he acknowledges her. “Damian, Damian, Damian!” There’s a knot in her stomach and a familiar feeling of being pulled towards her, like there’s an invisible rope around her waist.

“I see her!” he replies, grabbing her hand both to comfort her and stop her from slapping him again. His hands come around her shoulders, straightening her back and holding her up as Cady wanders over in their direction. Her eyes happen to find them and her face breaks into a smile, and for an insane moment, Janis thinks she’s smiling at her. Which would be ridiculous because they’ve never said one word to each other. The only reason she might smile at her is if she was being extra-friendly or if she was her-

No, she tells herself sternly. Not the S word.

“Oh, Janis, Damian!” Kevin hollers, jumping down the hall to them with the rest of his crew. Janis wipes her hand on her shorts, giving what she hopes is a normal smile. “Hey, what’s up?”

“Hey Kev,” Damian replies, offering a high-five.

“You guys met my girl Cady?” he asks, gesturing to her. Met is a funny word in this scenario. I wish is the response Janis thinks but doesn’t say out loud.

“We haven’t had the pleasure,” Damian replies, eyeing Janis and grinning. “Hubbard comma Damian. This is my amusing sidekick, Sarkisian comma Janis.” His introduction makes Cady laugh and it sounds like a bell ringing or part of a melody being played.

“We’re introducing her to American pop culture,” Marwan adds just as Cady is opening her mouth to speak. She closes it, a pleasant expression on her face but her hand is clenched into a tight fist. “But we need a break from Harry Potter. That’s too dark. We watched Half-Blood Prince and oof” He makes a cutting-your-head-off gesture with his hand, his features twisted into over-dramatic "yikes". Cady nods along enthusiastically and opens her mouth, a sense of urgency in her face, as though one might cut her off, and Janis is almost excited to hear her. Holy crap, is this having it bad?

“I just can’t believe Dumbledore died!” she exclaims. "I mean who does that?"

Holy shit.

Holy fucking shit.

It doesn’t happen the way Janis’ mom described it. Rather than a flower blooming in her chest it’s a truck hitting her at full speed and sending her flying, her mind turning to static at those words and the pieces don’t even have time to connect in her brain before she yells-

“It’s you! You’re the one!” And at that, Cady’s mouth falls open and her eyes bulge as her hand flies to her forearm. For years, this girl has occupied Janis’ mind, and now she’s face to face with her, and in her most dire moment, rational thought has abandoned her. “You ruined Harry Potter for me!”

“Well… that’s not how I thought this was going to go down,” she mumbles, her pale cheeks turning pink.

As she comes back to herself, Janis looks around her, finding a face looking at her everywhere she turns. Some are amused, some shocked, some annoyed, some confused. But they surround her and the room starts closing in on her, making her feel like caged animal in a zoo, a spectacle for people to discuss over lunch. It’s a familiar feeling all right.

Her eyes meet Cady’s, terrified brown meeting bewildered blue and alongside the heavy cloud of embarrassment and the jagged anxiety, she feels a stab of guilt for doing this to her and it all threatens to crush her. So she does what feel most normal for her.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, and she finds herself running towards the doors and out into the hallway.

“Janis, wait!” Cady calls after her, her sneakers squeaking on the polished floors. She catches up to where Janis is standing, taking in deep breaths and pulling herself back together. Cady hovers in front of her, unsure of what to do, which isn’t what Janis expected. Shouldn’t soulmates just know?

“Sorry,” she repeats, straightening up. “Sorry I shouldn’t have flipped out like that.”

“S’okay,” she replies with a shrug, tapping her toe against the floor. She gives her an adorably sheepish look, one that makes Janis want to hold her tight forever. “Sorry I ruined Harry Potter for you.”

“Oh it’s fine,” she scoffs. “Seriously. Percy Jackson’s the superior children’s series. I wasn’t losing sleep over it.”

“I’ll make a note to read those,” she says softly, stepping a little closer to her. When she looks up at her, Janis feels it. The feeling her mom told her about. The flower opens in her chest and her worries begin to fade at the edges. Right now is the moment she begins hoping and daring to be brave, which is new for her. But there’s something, always something, or rather someone that looms over her and threatens it, even when she’s not physically here. She got her claws into Cady first and Janis can’t not be freaked out by that.

“I don’t know what you’ve heard,” she begins.

“I’ve not heard anything,” is what Cady replies in a firm voice. “Not anything worth repeating.”

“You haven’t?” Janis asks. The urge to pick at her nails rises in her. “Because… I know people-”

“Regina?” she says. She stuffs her hands into the back pockets of her jeans, her expression half-smile, half-grimace. “Yeah. She told me stuff. But…”

“But?” That makes her laugh again, and even though it’s soft and more of a breath, it’s beautiful to her.

“But you know… I’m not going to trust someone who uses slurs that freely,” she says, quirking an eyebrow. “Or who keeps a burn book about other people.” It takes a lot of self-control not for Janis not to hug her right now. Her anxiety dissolves almost entirely, replaced by feelings that are new and exciting and safe, above everything else. She feels safe with her. Maybe that’s what a soulmate means. Having someone be your safety net.

“You know…” she begins, sneaking a glance back inside the gym, where the movie has already started playing. “These things are great, but they seem to have it under control. Maybe you and I could go to the diner down the street? Get some milkshakes? Hang out? Talk a little?”

“I’d love that,” Cady replies, her cheeks pink and her eyes sparkling. She bites her lip and after a moment’s hesitation, holds out her hand. Her face is expectant but her fingers wiggle nervously. Her fingernails are painted green and on her wrist is a braided leather bracelet. Her hand looks soft and tiny and perfectly suited to hers, just like Cady herself, she supposes.

After more than a moment’s hesitation, Janis takes it, and nothing before has ever felt so right.

[ahtohallan-calling]

chapter 23 of don’t read the last page is here!

masterpost

[kristanna / m / multichap / modern au with actress!anna and vetstudent!kristoff]

“Now, ah...is that Chinese food on the back of your car?”

“Uh-huh. Double order of egg rolls.”

“Oh, fuck yes,” she groaned, wriggling in his arms until he set her down with a chuckle. “This is why I’m marrying you.”

“Really? I thought it was because it means a lifetime supply of sweatshirts to steal.”

“Oh, I forgot about that,” she said, already rummaging through the bags and cracking open a container of dumplings. “Also how sexy you look in your reading glasses.”

“Can’t believe you’re so hung up on me being a sexy grandpa when I’m not even officially a dad yet.”

a/n: so yes hiatus is over! but this will probably have an erratic update schedule like everything else i do these days, sorryyyyyy

chapter 23: midsummer

“Kris! Kris, thank god you’re finally here!”

He nearly dropped the plastic bags in fright at the sound of Anna’s shout through the open front door. “What’s wrong?” he called, feeling his heart already beginning to pound; there were so many things that could go wrong, things that kept him up half the night, and he’d known this was all too good to be true and--

But then she got close enough he could see she was smiling, and he did drop the bags then-- carefully, though, and not a moment too soon, because she launched herself at him, flinging her arms around his neck as he caught her and hoisted her up so she could wrap her legs around his waist. He couldn’t hold her as close as he used to even a few weeks ago. He’d started to wonder if she was slender enough that she’d ever show at all, and then one day he’d come in to join her in the shower and done a double-take at the sight of her standing there with her hand on the now unmistakable swell of her belly and examining herself in the mirror.

“Kris,” she said breathlessly, bringing him back to the present moment. “Guess what?”

“What, baby?” he asked, knowing he was wearing his dopiest smile as he looked up at her.

“I felt him moving around in there! I thought like-- TMI, sorry-- I thought maybe it was a fart but it kept happening, and I googled it and then I called the doctor’s office and they laughed and were like ‘yeah, Anna, that’s the baby’ and-- and-- and it’s him, Kris! He’s in there!”

“Well-- well, I would hope he’s still in there,” he managed to say, too dazed for a more coherent response. 

Anna giggled. “So you admit it? That he’s a he?”

“What?” 

Her eyes softened when she realized how stunned he still was. “It’s pretty exciting, huh?”

He hadn’t realized his eyes were welling up with tears until she said that. He managed a nod, and she pressed a kiss to his forehead. “And we’re almost halfway there,” she said softly. “Halfway to meeting him.”

“Or her,” Kristoff managed to whisper. 

She laughed and leaned down to kiss him on the lips then, her fingers tightening their hold on his shoulders when he brushed the tip of his tongue just barely over hers. She had just begun to deepen the kiss further when she jerked back. 

“It happened again!”

Kristoff’s eyebrows flew up. “Like, right now?”

“Uh-huh! It feels all wiggly in there!”

He swallowed hard. “Do you, uh, do you think…”

He trailed off, feeling suddenly embarrassed, but she seemed to understand all the same, giving him another soft smile as she brushed his hair back out of his eyes. “I don’t think you can feel it this early. But soon, though. And we can try anyway if you want.”

He kissed her again, softer this time. “I love you. And the baby.”

She winked at him. “We love you too. Now, ah...is that Chinese food on the back of your car?”

“Uh-huh. Double order of egg rolls.”

“Oh, fuck yes,” she groaned, wriggling in his arms until he set her down with a chuckle. “This is why I’m marrying you.”

“Really? I thought it was because it means a lifetime supply of sweatshirts to steal.”

“Oh, I forgot about that,” she said, already rummaging through the bags and cracking open a container of dumplings. “Also how sexy you look in your reading glasses.”

“Can’t believe you’re so hung up on me being a sexy grandpa when I’m not even officially a dad yet.”

She shrugged and popped a dumpling into her mouth. “Official enough for me, Pops,” she said around a mouthful of food. “Want some?”

“Nah. Those are all for you.”

She swallowed and let out a dreamy sigh. “Fuck, I really love you.”

---

“You’re sure this is all you want to do for your birthday?” Kristoff asked from behind the wheel as he turned to her.

“Uh-huh.”

“Even though it’s not until tomorrow, so if you want to, you can have two birthdays? I’m serious, I know tomorrow’s Monday and I’ve got work, but I can still get Sven and your sister and--”

“I’m serious,” she insisted. “Even if it wasn’t for the whole still-hiding-out thing, I’d just want to spend today with you somewhere we both love.”

His cheeks colored slightly at that as he looked away from her and started to drive again. “But you like parties. Or going places. Or--”

“Kristoff, baby, I can’t drink right now, I can’t ride anything good at Disneyland, my old cute clothes don’t fit anymore, and I don’t want to do any of that these days, anyway. All I want to do is eat and sleep and, uh…”

Now she was the one blushing. 

“And what?” he pressed, glancing back at her with a teasing glint in his eye.

“Remember what we did the first time we went to this beach?”

“Played in the rain?”

“No…”

“Splashed in the water even though I told you it was storming?”

“Kris!”

He laughed and reached over to set his hand on her knee, giving it an affectionate squeeze and leaving it there, the way that still made her heart flutter after a year and an engagement and a house and a baby. “Yes, I remember. And if you’re really up for it…”

“You have no idea,” she muttered under her breath, and when she glanced up again his cheeks were even redder than before.

---

Anna’s car was parked in front of the house when he got home, but there was no sign of her once he stepped inside. She was in the kitchen more often than not these days, or napping in the living room otherwise, but when he didn’t even see her in the bathroom turning side to side and examining her reflection, Kristoff began to get worried. “Anna?” he called.

“Out back,” she shouted, and he went to the window and saw her lying on her back on a blanket in the backyard. 

Relieved, he joined her on the blanket, sitting beside her and letting his legs sprawl out. She shifted to rest her head on his lap, giving him a small smile. “How was your day?” she asked.

“Good. Lots of cute kittens. And I took a million pictures for you.”

“Did you cuddle them?”

He chuckled and brushed a stray lock of hair off her forehead. “Yes. All afternoon. And Ryder made sure there’s pictures of that, too.”

Her smile grew just a little. “Good.”

“What about you?”

The smile faded. “It was, uh...I mean, I’ve had worse days.”

Kristoff frowned as he continued stroking her hair. “It was just reshoots, right? Did they not go well?”

“No, no, they were fine. Well, costuming was kind of flustered with how much bigger I managed to get in three weeks, but we made it work.”

He moved his hand to rest on the curve of her stomach, moving gently back and forth in hopes of a response, but he felt nothing. Anna must have seen the disappointment in his face, because she turned and pressed a kiss to the side of his knee. “He’s moving in there right now, I promise. He knows it’s you.”

For a moment, the sudden swell of love in his chest distracted him, and then he saw the droop of her expression once more and frowned. “So what happened, baby?”

She sighed, closing her eyes. “I got papped when I left the set with Adam. There was a whole mob of them, must have known we were doing reshoots there. And Lena texted and said some are already on TMZ, and that Hans already tweeted something else weird and subtweety, and just...I thought it would die down. But it’s not really.”

He nudged her shoulder. “Will you sit up for me?”

“Why?”

“So I can hold you better.”

She let out a resigned huff and complied, though once his arms were around her she nestled close to him, pressing her face against his neck close enough that he could tell she was beginning to smile again.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, dropping a kiss on the top of her head. “That it’s happening, and that I can’t do anything to help except this.”

“This is good,” she replied, giving him a kiss in return against his collarbone. “This is all that matters, anyway.”

---

Sven was nearly beside himself with excitement when he flung open the door. “Did it work this time? Could they see it?”

“Jesus!” Anna yelped, a hand flying instinctively to her stomach. “I thought this was just for the Fourth of July, not a surprise party.”

“Do I need to revoke your key privileges?” Kristoff asked drily.

“You say that now, but when you see the ribs I’ve got waiting for you guys out back--”

“Oh, hell yes,” Anna cheered, pushing past him to go see.

“Well?” Sven asked Kristoff expectantly, tapping his foot. “Did you find out or not?”

“Maybe we did, maybe we didn’t.”

“Okay, you definitely did. Because last time when it didn’t work, you were all mopey about it, but I know that smirk, Bjorgman. So it’s official now, right? I’m getting a godson?”

“No,” called Elsa as she came up behind them with a fruit tray in hand, closely followed by Honey and Ryder. “But I’m getting a niece.”

“Okay, okay, this is a cookout, not a gender reveal party,” Kristoff insisted as he finally managed to squeeze past them all and step into the kitchen. “So maybe we won’t even tell you guys today. Anyone else want a beer?”

“I do,” Anna called cheerfully, the back door slapping shut behind her. “But I’ll settle for tomato juice.”

Ryder gagged. “You’re drinking that without it being mixed with vodka?”

“Yeah. It’s disgusting, isn’t it?” she said, reaching past Kristoff to grab the bottle. “But apparently I’m craving this, and chocolate milk still makes me puke.”

“Shit,” he said with a low whistle. “You’re really taking one for the team, huh? Eating all this gross shit just so we get a cute kid to have around.”

“Just to clarify,” Kristoff said drily as he passed around cans of beer, “that’s not the reason we’re having a baby.”

“Nope,” Anna agreed. “But I’m sure he appreciates you saying that. He’s gonna be spoiled, huh?”

The room was suddenly completely silent apart from the sound of Anna gulping down her glass of tomato juice. When she had finished, she swiped the back of her hand across her mouth and frowned. “What? Is it seriously that gross?”

“I-- did you-- is it-- we were-- oh, shit!” Sven stammered out, for once in his life unable to come up with something clever to say. 

Anna gasped, her hand flying to cover her mouth, while Kristoff laughed and pulled his wallet out of his back pocket. “Well, uh, we were going to announce it in a more, uh, intentional way, but…” 

He pulled a sonogram picture out of the wallet and laid it on the counter. Immediately everyone crowded around for a closer look. “It’s a boy. And yes, Anna was right, and no, Elsa, I don’t have the cash on me right now, so I guess I do have to do the ice bucket thing.”

“It’s a boy?” Elsa squeaked, tears already rolling down her cheeks as she flung herself into Anna’s waiting arms. 

“Yeah,” Anna laughed, holding her sister as close as she could. “About time we had one in our family, huh?”

“I know I said I wanted it to be a girl,” Elsa said, pulling back enough to swipe at her eyes. “But I changed my mind, because-- because oh my god, a little boy, Anna!”

“I know!” 

“And he’s yours. My little sister is having a baby.”

“I promise this is her first beer of the night,” Honey said teasingly, though her eyes were tender as she watched Elsa step back with a watery smile.

“Oh, shit!” Sven said, raising his own. “Let’s like, toast to this. Cheers, everybody, to it being a boy and me and Anna being right and the rest of you--”

“Cheers!” the rest of them called in unison, cutting him off. 

Anna laughed and picked up the sonogram as they all drank. “Not naming names, but I think somebody around here owes me money, too,” she said, turning to the fridge. “Which I need, apparently, to buy some new magnets so I can hang this-- oh, shit!”

She’d chosen the worst magnet to remove from the collage of snapshots they had on the fridge, because most of them came cascading down to the floor. Kristoff bent quickly to scoop them up, but when Anna set a hand on his shoulder, he paused, looking up at her.

“Kris,” she asked, her voice low as she pointed at a polaroid on the floor. “What’s that one?”

He held it up to her. “You and me, when you wore that silver dress...what party was that? Why do I remember that--”

His eyes widened as they landed on the orange date printed in the corner. “Oh, shit.”

“I’m not seeing things, right?” Anna breathed. “Like, it actually says January 1st, and it’s definitely you and me, and-- and anyone who saw that would know that, right?”

“Is, uh, is everything okay?” Ryder asked, peering over at them. “Like, if those are special pictures, I promise none of us are look--”

“Oh, shit!” Sven said yet again, and Anna burst into laughter as she glanced up at him, even as tears started cascading down her cheeks. “So if you put that on Instagram or something--”

“It’s over,” she managed to say at last, flinging her arms around Kristoff’s waist when he stood again. “All the bullshit. Things can-- things can go back to normal.”

[smileyjaeminies]

Love Again

Synopsis: Childhood friends, to strangers, to… Nothing? Jae is quite the puzzle, figuring him out won’t be the easiest thing you do. But you do want to try.

Word Count: 4,2 k

Genre: childhood friends au!, concert au!

Warnings: none

Member: Jae, ft. the rest of Day6

A/N: I had so much fun writing this work. I tried to make the concert experience a lot like my own, although I have never gone to a Day6 concert. I gathered all my information from Google so sorry if anything is different from the actual concert!

         Waking up in yet another chilly morning in Korea, you think of every step that has led you in this dorm, in a country quite literally across the world from your home. The university you attended offered almost all its students the opportunity to study abroad for a whole semester, to learn, see and explore, not only the country and your studies but also one’s self.

         Most students jumped at the opportunity to leave home and travelled within the first year. Not you. You wanted to keep your head in the game, to fall in love with your studies before falling in love with another country.

         So there you were, only a semester away from finishing your studies, in Korea. Why Korea? Well, why not? It was so different from anything you had known back home… You figured if you were going to do this, you would go all in.

         Being completely honest, K-pop definitely helped. You couldn’t lie to your own self, seeing some of your favorite artists would be a pleasure. There was a certain someone… But you brushed off the thought.

         As you got ready for your day, you conversed with your roommate, Haseul, about this and that. You debated about the days agenda, finally settling on a gallery and lunch afterwards. Heading out, you felt excited, you could tell this was going to be a good day.

         When you arrived at the gallery, you were instantly certain you were going to love it. You thoroughly enjoyed each painting and picture, immersed in each of their mysteries and stories. You took photos of your favorites and posted them on your Instagram story.

         You tried to keep as much of this trip’s memories recorded on your Instagram. You only had a couple hundred followers and all of them were more or less people you knew, a friend of a friend and such.

         As you finished walking around the gallery, Haseul grumbled about being hungry. You wanted to stick around for a while longer, a bright painting of a landscape catching all your attention, but your stomach begged to differ. You complied, allowing Haseul to shine in her own element, searching for restaurants around the area. After going back and forth for a little, you settled down at a small seafood restaurant.

         You opened your phone to document yet another moment of your day, when you found yourself trying to bite down a scream at the message that popped up. You checked and checked again to make sure your eyes were not deceiving you.

         The message stared back at you loud and clear: “You’re in Korea?” His username shone in bright black letters.

         “WHAT THE FUCK?” you finally let out, a little too loud for the other customers’ liking.

         “What? What happened?” Haseul asked, concerned. You couldn’t even speak, so you just handed her your phone.

          “He replied? He actually DMed you?” she asked in disbelief.

          He could only be one person of course. Park Jaehyung, Jae, your childhood best friend. You had met him at first grade, both of you a little more than toddlers. You became fast friends with the boy with big framed glasses, who didn’t like toy cars as much as you did but still played with you.

          However, fate had different plans for you. After almost three years of knowing one another, you had become inseparable. A change in your mom’s career would turn that around, making you move to Canada.

          You believed that to be the first time you had known heartbreak. Jae took the news just as hard. When you left, you both vowed to call at least once a week and to never forget each other. The latter was obviously easier, one could hardly forget Jae, his bright nature and big heart making it hard not to love him. The first proved to be harder. First you forgot, then him, then it completely fell out of habit. You were little kids, so he slipped your mind, until one day you didn’t even miss him anymore.

          That changed around a year ago. You had met up with a few friends from uni when someone announced that his best friend would be joining the group. The minute he started walking towards you, you couldn’t mistake him for anyone else. His big glasses had changed a hundred times over, his hair was now dyed a bright yellow, but his easy smile was always the same. He was Jae.

           You thought that meeting would change everything. You talked throughout the course of the night, catching up. You found out he was in a band now, he was singing and playing the guitar. In Korea! You thought you would be reconnected after that night. Apparently not.

           As abruptly he walked back into your life, he walked right out. Although you had exchanged social medias, no message ever came from Jae. He was following you, but he never replied or even read your attempts at reaching out.

           You were disappointed to say the least. You thought you would have a chance to actually discover the man the little boy you knew had become. You were wrong. But while before your meeting, he was a thought that came and went, a part of a funny memory, now he plagued your thoughts more often than not. Especially in the previous days you had spent in Korea.

           You were shocked. After almost a year of being radio silent… This? How on earth were you supposed to react? You had been in Korea for about 10 days, why did he text only now? As all those thoughts raced through your mind, your phone vibrated in your hand.

           “Where are you right now? Let me know, I’m nearby” the message read. Seemingly impossible, your heartbeat sky-rocketed. You almost felt dizzy as you looked at Haseul in disbelief.

           “I’m gonna… go” she said as she saw the new message.

           You looked at her, lost and still unable to speak. She typed the restaurant’s address along with a simple “See you in a bit” and paid for the things she had ordered. After a quick kiss on your cheek and a “Good luck!”, she was out of the door.

           You sat frozen, trying to calm your racing heart. You tried to look in your head, to find where this anxiety came from. Admittedly, since the last time you saw him, Jae has become a regular thought in your mind. You had followed him closely, his music and performances captivating you every time. In the process, you fell in love with K-pop.

          Dowoon was your official bias, but your eyes always drifted to Jae. A crush? On Jae? It would explain a lot… But no. How could you have a crush on him, you barely knew him anymore.

          Just as you managed to calm down, he walked in. The smile he gave you sent your heart on a frenzy again. He was so effortlessly perfect, clad in black jeans, white T-shirt and black hoodie.

          You got up to greet him and he immediately crushed you in a hug, now several inches taller than you.

          “Gosh, Y/N, it’s been too long!” he said letting go.

          “I could say that I tried… Where have you been?” you asked.

          “Sorry about that… The tour was absolutely crazy! What are you doing in Korea?” he asked sitting down.

         As you explained, he placed his order. You conversed over delicious food, him filling you in on his tour and you on your first impressions of Korea and your classes.

         Talking to him was effortless, just as it had been when you were only children. The conversation flowed to different matters entirely as you “argued” about which flavor milkshake was better and which horror movie was actually scary. At some point, his voice got serious as he got a sip of his beer.

         “I saw you were at The Rose’s live Saturday” he said.

         You had to blush. You had uploaded some stories of you screeching at your bias Hajoon (yes you had a thing for drummers, so what?) and badly singing lyrics back to Sammy.

         “I was” you managed “I had a blast too. They are great performers.”

         “Do you listen to a lot of K-pop?” he asked.

         “Yeah actually, a lot of boy groups to be exact.” You replied, not sure where he was trying to get with this conversation.

         “Oh. So do you listen to my music as well?”

         “Of course! I like your band’s music a lot.”

         “I see… Do you have a bias?” he asked. You could see that he was fidgeting, a sign he was nervous. So that hadn’t changed.

         “I… do. But you’re not going to like it” you told him with a laugh, trying to lighten the atmosphere.

         “It’s Wonpil, isn’t it?” he asked.

         “Close enough, it’s Dowoon” you told him.

         You heard him mutter something under his breath, but he brushed it off when you asked him about it. After that weird exchange, he was right back to normal, laughing and teasing.

         Looking at the time, you realized it should be best for you to go if you wanted to get home before Haseul screamed at you for staying out late. You told Jae and he got up.

         “Where are you going? We haven’t paid!” you said.

         “We have, I paid” he told you.

         “No. No Jae sit down, we should split it! You being a K-pop idol doesn’t let you off! It’s not right!” you said.

         “Y/N, calm down! I only did it because I wanted to. My treat, for your welcome in Korea. Please?” he tried, holding your hand.

         “Fine. Ugh, you can still make me do you bidding, I hate you” you said shoving him slightly.

         “Ha! You wish. You love me” he scoffed.

         “Meh, you can’t prove that!” you said, walking out from the restaurant.

         “Y/N! Wait, there’s another thing. Let me walk you to the subway station” Jae offered.

         “Sure, what is it?” you asked.

         As you walked side by side your heart felt like it would jump out of your chest. Every brush of his fingers against yours, every deep breath seemed to hit you like a ton of bricks. You tried to remain calm and not think about how much you would scream if Dowoon were here.

         “Okay so… I want to see you again. I mean I really felt like shit not being able to talk to you all those months, I wish I could change that. Things were hectic and very different back then. My agency… Well, they have let us off a tiny bit now. What I’m trying to say is, I know I was a dick. And I'm sorry. I’d like to make it up to you.” He finished.

         “Jae you don’t have to. Really, I understand. It wasn’t the best feeling when you didn’t reply, but I know how it is. Did it sting a bit? Yes. Did it suck a whole lot? Sure it did, but I get it. I really do.” You told him.

         “Just let me do this one thing…” he started.

         “You already paid for food! It’s fine, really, especially now that you seem to want to make an effort.” You stopped him.

         “Well, let me do another thing” he said, pulling something out of his pockets.

         When you saw what it was, your eyes opened wide. Your mouth dropped to the floor and you had to bite back another scream. Jae was offering VIP tickets and backstage passes to one of their lives in Seoul. You tried not to fangirl too much but judging from Jae’s amused look, you weren’t doing too well. You opened and closed your mouth, trying to come up with something, anything.

         “Just come to the show… Please? If not for me, for Dowoon” he tried, pulling the best puppy eyes you had seen in a while.

         “Jae… I don’t know what to say. Thank you so much you really didn’t have to-” you started.

         “I wanted to.” He said with determination, pushing the tickets and passes in your hand.

         “Thank you… so much. I’ll be there. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” You told him with a smile.

         By then you had gotten to the subway station where he was supposed to drop you off.

         “I’ll look for you. It’s going to be a bit busy right now, but I’ll try to see you for coffee and muffins as soon as I can. You still like chocolate muffins, right?” he asked.

         “Of course I do. I’ll see you soon” you told him, wrapping your arms around his waist.

         He let go first, dropping you a soft smile and turning around. Just as he was leaving you, you called back to him.

         “Jae!” you called, catching his attention. “If you don’t at least drop a haha at my next meme, I’m not coming!” you threatened.

         He laughed lightly, eyes closing and hands going to his stomach. Your heart did several backflips at the sight, a smile growing in your own face. He nodded in you direction and finally disappeared in the backseat of a taxi.

         When you got back, you had a lot of explaining to do. Haseul was basically sitting at the very edge of the couch, ready to jump on you and shower you with questions the second you walked in. You tried to start from the beginning, telling her everything that happened. When you finally got the tickets out of your purse, she squealed with joy.

         “I’m meeting my husband!!! Oh my God, what if Brian actually falls in love with me? Y/N what am I going to do?” she went on and on.

         You laughed at the sight, making plans to go shopping because Haseul apparently hasn’t “Anything remotely decent to wear”. As you tucked in for the night, you thought back on your day. A smile quickly grew on your face and you fell asleep happier than you’d been in a while.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

         The concert day had felt too far away two weeks prior, but between your classes and assignments, exploring Seoul and meeting all kinds of new people, they flew by in a blur. Now it was the morning of the concert and you and Haseul were getting ready to hit the road, listening to a playlist Haseul made called “Day6 jams”. As you screamed the lyrics in each other’s faces, you took some pictures and finally headed to the venue.

         You arrived early so you walked around, meeting fansites and getting free photocards and goodies from the fans that were there. You stood patiently in line to get your lightband and a shirt for Haseul. You talked about this and that, counting down the hours, then the minutes to the concert.

         Walking into the venue, you were amazed by how many people were already there. Taking your seats, you found that Jae had placed you on his side of the stage. Taking a picture and sending it to him, you wished him a good luck and telling him you couldn’t wait to see them.

         During the two weeks between your first outing and the concert, Jae had kept his promise. No matter how late or early in the day, he found time to reply to your texts, even briefly. You had met up for coffee and muffins as promised, spending hours talking and sharing stories from all you had missed in your lives.

         Jae had held your hand as he walked you to the nearest subway station, making you blush like crazy. After dropping you off, he only said that he was really looking forward to seeing you at the concert, finishing up with a peck on your cheek.

         You didn’t really know what to make of anything that had happened that day or otherwise. It was clear that Jae wanted you back in his life, but as what? You tried not to think about it too much, but the thought chased you at all times, unwanted. Jae was again plaguing your thoughts and staying loyal to Dowoon had never been this hard.

         Your thoughts were drowned away from Haseul, jumping up from her seat and screaming.

         “It’s starting, it’s starting, oh my God!” she shouted, pulling you to your feet and holding your hand tightly.

         Excitement rushed through your veins as the lights dimmed down and five familiar figures arrived on the stage. The song started playing, almost shyly, tasting the waters. You recognized ‘Best Part’ and fangirling mode was: on. Screaming the lyrics back to the members, as well as the fanchants had you breathing heavily but the end of the song.

         You continued being energetic and enjoying each song as the concert went on. When Dowoon stepped down from his drum set to join the boys you let out and huge scream, excited to finally catch a good glimpse at him. The ments from the boys were heartwarming, each one bringing their own colours and interacting with the fans.

         You were on cloud nine, magically transformed and led through a way of notes, lyrics and feelings altogether too intense for your body to handle. You tried to stay in the moment, allowing yourself to feel Dowoon singing in ‘Wanna Go Back’, Wonpil’s melodic voice in ‘Like That Sun’ and Sungjin’s honey vocals in ‘I Smile’. Haseul held your hand tightly and cried during Brian’s parts in ‘I Need Somebody’, constantly screaming “WHO HURT YOU?”.

         The boys’ solo stages were sprinkled throughout the concert, making you excited for what was to come next. Everyone was at the top of their game that night and you would be lying if you said you didn’t tear up as well at some songs.

         As the night progressed, the boys took the stage to say some final words before the encore. Jae was the last one to speak up, but judging by the look on his face, he looked as happy to be there as you were. You marveled at all of them, sweaty and still pumped up from the energy the fans were giving them.

         “So you guys, sadly the encore is about to begin which means the end is soon approaching” he said into his mic and the crowd screamed their disappointment, you included.

         “I know, I know, sad times indeed. But I’d like to share with you all a reason why I’m so happy tonight.” He stated and the crowd screamed their support.

         “Well, you see, there’s a very important person in this crowd here today, a person I cherish very much. They were lost to me for a while. But now I got them back. And I thought I’d take this moment right here to say that I love them. And I don’t think I want to let go” he finished and his gaze stayed to where you we sitting.

         His gaze flashed through you, finding its target right into your heart. You were star-struck, tears filling your eyes and blurring your vision. You felt Haseul enveloping you in a hug and trying to calm you down. You could hear ‘Freely’ playing in the background as you realized the truth you were trying to avoid for too long.

         The final songs passed by in a whirlwind of emotions, you trying to come back to the concert, but your mind straying away to one certain boy. You couldn’t take your eyes off of him, his eyes shining as he sang and played his beloved guitar.

         As the last notes of ‘Better Better’ filled the air, the end of a beautiful concert had come at last. Final goodbyes were being said and Jae stuck around to wave to your side of the venue. You were waving back, although you doubted he would see you.

         After the boys went backstage, everyone was up and in a hurry to leave. You and Haseul sat back down to catch your breaths before heading backstage.

         “Are you okay?” she asked, testing the waters.

         You looked back at her, giving her a smile. Since the first time you had met her back home, Haseul had been a very thoughtful friend, always taking good care of you and loving you so much with her big heart. Coming back to her, even in a strange country, felt like coming back home.

         “I think I’m okay” you finally managed, easing her worried stare. “It was an intense concert…”

         “It sure was. You think you’re ready to head back?” she asked, seeing the concert hall emptying.

         “Let’s go meet your future husband” you told her, taking her hand and walking towards the backstage.

         Showing your backstage passes to the guards, you were lead though a narrow corridor with doors on either side. You arrived at a final door that read “Artist” and had the Day6 logo right below it.

         As you were pushed inside, you tried to silence your mind. You needed to be yourself, be genuine. Try to enjoy this. Walking into the room, you called “Hello?” with a small voice.

         All the boys’ attention was now on you and Haseul. You tried hard not to panic and gave them a small smile which spurred them into action. They all got up to greet you together. Jae started walking towards you, a huge smile on his face. You decided to stir the pot a little, walking completely past him and into Dowoon’s arms. He laughed into your hair and your heart soared at the sound. After some hesitation, he wrapped his own arms around you and held you.

         “I’ve been so excited to meet you, you don’t even know. I need you to know that I see the effort you put in. I appreciate you so much, I’m so super proud of you. I can’t wait to hear more from your singing, please keep pursuing it, it suits you so well. You are so amazing, so so talented I swear.” You rambled. You would go on, but judging by his amused stare you’d already said too much.

         You moved on to Wonpil, hugging him tightly. “Hi” he said, half-laughing.

         “Hey. I don’t need to tell you this but please never stop singing. Your voice touches so many people, it’s unreal. So don’t stop okay?” you asked.

         “Okay, I won’t” he cutely answered back with a smile.

         You hugged Sungjin quickly and stepped back to look at him in the eyes.

         “Thank you for putting up with them, I don’t know how you do it. You are always deeply appreciated, I hope you know it. The way you allow every song to live through you is something I’ve never seen before. I’m sorry Jae is the way he is, I think I may have something to do with that.” You admitted

         Sungjin only shook his head. “Jae is just… Jae. Thank you though.”

         You moved on to Brian, hugging him tightly. “Your songs are too fucking real. I swear to God everything you write either comforts me greatly, or touches me in ways I don’t even understand… Thank you and also what the fuck.” You told him and you both burst into laughter.

         “Thank you as well, you guys are the best” he answered.

         “You bet we are!” Haseul said from behind you.

         Jae was purposely left for last. You had done your best not to look at him before greeting the others, afraid he would read right through your gaze and into your heart. Turning to him now, you were faced with his expectant stare. He opened his arms wide.

        “Saving the best for last?” he jokingly asked.

        You walked into his arms, burring your face in his neck.

        “Saving the most special for last” you whispered as you squeezed his waist.

        “Really?” He asked, his tone low. His whole demeanor had shifted, no trace of the joking, playful look he had given you only a second before.

        “Yes really. I heard what you said out there, which was stupid by the way. Now your company is going to be all up in your ass. But I feel the same way. I think I have for a while.” You said, smiling up to him.

        “Really?” he repeated.

        You laughed and buried your face in his neck once more, hugging him even tighter than before.

        “Y/N” Jae started, cupping your face in his hands, thumbs caressing your cheek.

        “If they make out right here, I swear I am going to barf” Brian announced.

        “Nooo, look, it’s so romantic” Haseul cooed.

        Jae placed a kiss on your cheeks between your giggles. “Later” he promised.

        You didn’t know exactly what that promise would entail. Probably an abundance of sleepless nights, face times and texts. But you were willing to find out. For all the hugs and kisses, the smiles and the jokes.

        “We’ll see” you told yourself.

[iamvegorott]

Undercover Love Ch. 40

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Welcome Back

“Anti, what’s in your jeans?” Dark asked when he noticed a strange bulge in the back of Anti’s pants.

“My dick, duh.” Anti tried to walk faster than Dark and head into the library but Dark caught him first.

“Anti, I’ve seen you naked, you don’t have a dick above your ass.” Dark flipped the back of Anti’s shirt up and saw the handle of a gun sticking out of his pants. “I thought we agreed on no guns and do I really need to explain to you the dangers of keeping a gun tucked in like that?” Dark took the gun out and tossed it into a nearby bush.

“Yes, the best hiding spot for a loaded weapon.” Anti scoffed.

“I don’t have much to work with,” Dark muttered and wrapped his arm through Anti’s and walked into the library before Anti could say anything else.

“Hello.” The man behind the reference desk greeted as Dark and Anti went up to it. Anti found himself looking around the room, the bright colors distracting him for a moment.

“We’re looking for a young man, red sweatshirt, green hair.”

“You must be Jackie’s parents.” The man smiled. “He’s usually on the second floor with Alice, I can call-”

“Alice?” Both Anti and Dark said together.

“Well, that answers the question if you knew about his girlfriend.” The man chuckled.

“Girlfriend?” The two spoke together again.

“Do you need me to page him down?”

“No, no, it’s fine.” Dark gave a smile back to the man while Anti looked like he was going to pass out. “We just wanted to know if he was here since he forgot to tell us, we’ll let him be with his girlfriend in peace.”

“Girlfriend?” Anti squeaked out.

“Thank you for your help, have a great day.” Dark was, once again, guiding Anti but this time it was out of the library.  

“He has a girlfriend?” Anti placed a hand on his cheek. “How did I not know? He wears his emotions on his entire body. How could we not tell he was seeing someone every time he went out?”

“Most of you are pretty clueless,” Dark said.

“You Ipliers aren’t any better.” Anti protested.

“You’re right.” Dark shrugged in agreement.

“I should be nice and not tell Chase...right?”

“Probably.”

“Damn.”

x~x~x

Weeks passed and the house was finally starting to look like it did before everything happened. Robbie was sitting in the living room coloring with Dark sitting on the couch behind him, reading the newspaper, while Chase and Marvin were cooking dinner in the kitchen. Marvin was talking again, but he was still a little jumpy when it came to sudden noises. The others were starting to plan their revenge. They were ready to make them pay.

“I’m home!” Jackie called as he came into the building.

“Hi, Jackie.” Robbie greeted with a wave before getting back to his coloring.

“Jackie’s home?” Anti popped his head into the room from the hallway, grin wide and mischief in his eyes. “How was the library?” Anti asked, going over to Jackie. “Did you have fun at the library doing library things, like reading?” Jackie just looked at Anti with wide eyes, weak croaks of protest were caught in his throat.

“Robbie, I got you a book.” Jackie slipped away from Anti, taking off his backpack and reaching into it.

“He got you a book from the library because he was doing library things and nothing else, right?” Anti went next to Jackie and wrapped his arms around his shoulder, grin even larger than before, showing off his teeth.

“Y-Yep.” Jackie squeaked, handing the book to a clueless Robbie, who giggled thanks and immediately opened the book.

“If you were any more obvious, you’d just say it outright,” Dark commented, flipping to the next page and looking over it at Jackie.

“Can I talk to you guys? In private?” Jackie asked.

“Your room or ours?” Anti asked back.

“Mine,” Jackie stated and walked off, Anti waiting for Dark to get up and holding his arm as they followed. Jackie opened his door and as soon as Dark and Anti entered, he closed it and spun around to face them. “How long have you known?”

“Few weeks,” Dark responded, knowing exactly what Jackie was referring to.

“I can’t believe our little Jackie has a girlfriend,” Anti said, using his hands to squish his face.

“You haven’t told anyone, right?” Jackie asked.

“I’m an asshole, not a jerk.” Anti scoffed. “And I’m pretty sure you’d know if the others did. Do you know how hard Henrik was on my ass about Dark before we got together? He’s still on it.”

“Why don’t you want the others to know of Alice?” Dark asked.

“I’m just not ready.” Jackie went over to his desk, unable to look Dark in the eyes.

“Not ready to let everyone know that you’re happy and in love?” Anti put his hands on his hips. “You know everyone would be supportive.”

“It’s not them I’m worried about, it’s Alice.” Jackie slumped down into his desk’s chair, getting Dark and Anti to go over to him, Anti sitting on the desk and Dark standing next to him.

“What’s wrong with Alice?” Dark leaned against the desk.

“She just...she’s shy.” Jackie shrugged.

“Shy?” Anti raised a brow.

“It takes her a while to get used to new people, it took me a week to get her to even say hi.” Jackie sighed. “This is my first girlfriend and I really like her, fuck it, I love her and I don’t want to scare her off by pushing her.”

“You’re a good kid.” Anti patted the top of Jackie’s head, chuckling when he slapped it away.

“Thank you for not telling anyone,” Jackie said softly.

“When you’re ready, you’re ready,” Anti said. “Just don’t get your ass kidnapped with a bomb on your neck.” He added with a wink and a click of his tongue.

“I mean, it makes you skip a few courtship steps.” Dark rubbed his jaw.

“But he’s already courted her,” Anti said.

“Don’t call it that.” Jackie groaned.

“What steps would he be skipping?”

“Straight to marriage,” Dark answered.

“Guys!” Jackie yelped, face going red.

“I’ll go get the bombs.” Anti laughed.

“Guys!” Dark, Anti and Jackie both stopped when it wasn’t Jackie that shouted that time. “Guys, get out here!” It was Chase. Jackie was the first one out the door and the three rushed back to the living room.

“Is everything okay?” Bing asked.

“What’s going on?” Google added as everyone in the house gathered into one room.

“Move.” Anti pushed his way through the small crowd, going stiff when he saw why Chase was calling for everyone. “Blank?”

“Hi, Anti.”

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[sweetnestor]

12 Days | Chapter 5.2

Two guys that lowkey hate each other are forced to walk in each other’s shoes in order to learn a lesson.

***in collaboration with @themarkiplierexperience

lmao soz its not actually x reader we’re just desperate for attention haaaa

previous

After a few slices of pizza, Tom was brought back to LA. The sun was already going down, an indication at how long he was gone, and probably how much trouble he'd get into once he was around friends again. He had been bracing himself as he walked up to Bella’s front door, for she had told him to meet her there. He had to come up with a damn good apology in about ten seconds.

Tom quickly stopped himself from knocking; Just before dropping him off, Ethan had showed him which keys were which. Obviously, the only pink key in the set was the one to Bella’s house. This couple seemed to really be into symbolism and the like. Tom shook his head at the thought as he unlocked the door and stepped inside.

To his surprise, he heard music blaring inside the premises. It was a song he recognized (Kiwi by Harry Styles), but it still threw him off guard. Tom took a slow step inside and closed the door behind him, confused. As he stepped further inside, he saw his lovely girlfriend jumping around the living room, her curled pink hair bouncing everywhere. She was with two other people, who were also jumping and head banging rhythmically. One was a guy with dark green hair and a manly beard and the other was a shorter girl with short, dark brown hair. The three of them turned when Tom walked into the living room, and they all cheered.

“C’mon, let's dance!” Bella said, holding her hands out as she continued doing just that.

“What?” he asked, laughing in disbelief.

“Dancing it out!” replied the guy with green hair. Sean, was it? Or, Jack, as he recalled Ethan telling him.

Tom shrugged and started moving to the beat of the upbeat pop song. He wasn't sure why this was happening, or if it happened regularly. Needless to say, this was not what he was expecting when he walked into this apartment.

After the song ended, proper greetings were in order. Sean came over and gave Tom a hug like he hadn't seen him in a long time. Then, Signe (“see-nuh” - he finally got the right pronunciation!) did the same. He had no idea how long these guys had been friends with Ethan. This whole switch thing was going to be a ‘figure it out as you go’ type of thing, wasn't it?

“I'm sorry I wasn't here sooner,” he began as he sat on the couch. “I had a meeting and a shoot I completely forgot about, and it took ages.”

“Hey, it's fine. Happens to all of us,” Sean told him. “We're spending the night here, anyway, so you can't avoid us forever!”

“You're stuck with us!” Signe jokingly added.

“Lit,” Tom replied with minor hesitation. Was that a thing Ethan would say? It felt like it.

“Anyway,” Bella spoke up, “me and Signe are gonna film a video right now, so…”

“I'll look after little E-tan,” Sean finished for her with a small laugh.

Tom did catch the small moment of tension. Bella was still upset about the previous day, and probably over the fact that her boyfriend basically ignored her all day. Of course she wouldn't want to be in the same room as him.

The two ladies stood and went into a room, probably Bella’s. They were making a video, were they? For YouTube, right? Did they all make videos in their own homes? Did they not have an office space like Mark? Tom had a lot to learn, and he didn't know how long he had.

“And then there were two,” he commented once he was alone with the Irish guy.

He chuckled. “Really, though, how are you? Heard you had a hard time the other day.”

Here we go again. This didn't feel any different to the interviews where Tom was asked the same damn questions over and over. He couldn't help the reluctance in his tone.

“I've had some anxiety lately, I'm fine, I took some time off work. It's nothing.”

“But you're taking time off work,” Sean repeated. “That doesn't seem like you.”

You’ve not the slightest clue, mate.

Tom shrugged, his stomach turning. This guy seemed to be seeing right through him. How long would it be until figured it out? “Yeah, I know. It's just… I think I'm overworking myself. I mean, I did crash and go mental for a bit. Definite sign I should slow down.”

Sean only nodded, watching him. “Yeah, it's always good to do that. You gotta take care of yourself, too. And just know, if you need someone to talk to, I'm here.”

It was something a lot of people said, but hearing it from this particular guy felt reassuring. It felt genuine, and Tom could only tell because he hadn't heard or felt something like that in a very long time. For the first time since the switch, he actually felt somewhat comfortable, and that's what made him say his next sentence.

“Ever since D23...” he began, and then he paused. How was he going to go about this without sounding insane? “I haven't really felt like myself.”

“How so?” Sean asked.

I literally switched bodies with your friend, but you would think I was mental if I said that.

“I… I don’t know. It’s probably nothing,” he said, waving it off.

“Maybe you’re burning yourself out?” Sean suggested. “I know that after a while of doing this, you get pretty exhausted.”

Was he talking about YouTube? Surely, it couldn’t be that hard. Tom was going to try his hand at it tomorrow, and he wasn’t all that worried. How hard could it possibly be?

“Yeah, it's probably that,” Tom said, now wanting to get away from this subject.

Thankfully, Sean did change topics, but it was still an awkward, uncomfortable one.

“Are things okay with you and Baller?”

Tom wanted to laugh at that nickname, but the mood still felt a little serious. He looked at Sean, who was watching him carefully. Almost like he was waiting for Tom to lash out or snap in some way. Again, he couldn’t help but wonder if it was always like this, or if it was just because of the switch.

“Uh…” he trailed off. “What did she say to you?”

“Nothing, she was just a little off when you showed up,” Sean said. “Maybe I’m reading too far into it. I think I’m quick to worry when it comes to Bella.”

Sounds like an ex-boyfriend. Or someone who had way too many feelings for someone else’s girlfriend. Upon his Wikipedia search, Tom learned that Bella and Sean (she prefers to call him Jack) were very close and there was plenty of speculation regarding their relationship. Maybe that was something he should have asked Ethan about before being dropped off.

“I don’t mean to overstep,” Sean continued, seeing the look on Tom’s face. “You know, you’re my friend and she’s my friend… I just wanna know if you guys are okay.”

Are they close enough to the point where Ethan can talk about something like the knife incident? Best to keep that to himself.

“We’re fine,” Tom finally answered. “Thank you, but everything’s fine with me and my girlfriend.”

Sean took the hint.

~

“You're dirty, disgusting But I can't get enough of your loving Boy I hate you, really hate you My momma said I shouldn't date you…”

The high, distinct voice was coming from the bathroom in Bella’s room, where the girl was currently showering. It was well after midnight, Sean and Signe had already gone to bed in the spare room, so the remaining couple followed suit. Tom was nervous about this, to say the least. He would have gone back Ethan’s apartment, but he didn't have a ride there, much less directions to get there.

He had been in the middle of typing out a message to Ethan asking for those directions, until he got distracted by Bella’s singing voice. He had never heard anything like it before, it was so captivating and pretty. He looked at the bathroom door, which was open just a crack, and he couldn't help but smile at the singing.

It moved him, he felt a million things at once. Just when he thought this woman couldn't get any better. She was beautiful, she was motivated and passionate. She was kinky as hell, a little weird, absolutely hilarious. She was also a fucking amazing singer. Very different from the quiet, anxious girl that interviewed Tom only a few days ago.

“You sweet talk me again, yo I don't wanna be friends, no Why am I such a fool When it comes to you A, B, C, D, E-E-E, F, U”

Once that song ended, Tom lost focus on what he had been doing before. He looked down at the phone in his hand, skimmed the text, and then deleted it. Maybe instead of just straight out asking for things, Tom would give Ethan something like a daily report. He was supposed to learn things on his own, right?

“Dude your girlfriend is really fucking talented,” he typed out. “And I'm gonna try to apologize to her about yesterday, I'll let you know how that goes.” Sent. “Oh and I don't know how to get back to your apartment.” Sent again. “Sean and Signe are really cool btw. Ok goodnight.”

Tom put the phone down just as he heard the shower turn off. All he could do was hope that Bella wouldn't try anything like she did the day before. He didn't want to have to reject her twice in a row. Besides, she had barely spoken to him since he arrived, and he really needed to fix that.

He looked around her room, taking in whatever he could in the short amount of time he had. Sure, he had to learn just about everything there is to know about Bella Santiago, but he wasn’t observing just because he had to. He took in the keyboard, obviously connecting it to the singing he heard in the bathroom. He saw the alarming amount of makeup brushes on top of the bureau and the piles of clothes on the floor. He actually had to Google what the large pink, purple, and blue flag hanging above her bed meant.

What was most interesting to him though, were the professional lights and the camera stored in the corner of the room. Was that all Bella needed to make her videos? Tom was overwhelmed at the amount of gadgets Ethan had in his own home. Honestly, it made him a bit more nervous to make videos of his own.

Eventually, the girl opened the door and turned off the bathroom light. Tom was pleasantly surprised to see her wearing a navy blue Midtown High t-shirt and black booty shorts. Her black and pink hair was damp, and she was running a towel through the long locks. But Tom was focused on the shirt. Bella really was a fan, not just an interviewer who pretended to know everything about the Marvel Cinematic Universe.

“Cool shirt,” he told her as he watched her approach the bed.

“I didn't know you were still here,” she replied, disregarding his words. “Thought you left.”

Here we go. Boyfriend time.

“Babe,” he started, sitting up on the mattress and looking directly at her. “Hey, I'm so sorry about yesterday. I'm so, so sorry. I don't know what happened…”

She didn't say anything at first. She busied herself by throwing the towel back into the bathroom and approaching the bed again. Then she returned the eye contact.

“Was it something I did? Brutal honesty.”

“No, of course not!”

“Ethan, come on!”

“I mean it!” He sat up on his knees, trying to get his point across. “You know I've been having a hard time lately. And I took it out on you at the literal worst time, and I'm so sorry.”

Bella looked down, picking at her fingernails. “What kind of a hard time?”

Tom tilted his head to the side. “I… you know. The panic attack.”

“Those last up to forty five minutes.”

“I'm not working right now, either,” he continued, knowing that work was a big thing for this guy. “I just haven't felt like… I don't feel like myself anymore.”

The pink haired girl now sat on the bed. “Do you wanna talk more about it?”

What else could he say? How could he not sound absolutely crazy?

“Maybe another time,” he said. “I just wanted to properly apologize for yesterday. I was out of line.”

“Okay,” Bella said, her tone changing to something more gentle and affectionate. She placed her hand on Tom’s. “Whenever you wanna talk, you know I'm here. If there's anyone who's going to understand the noise in your brain, it'll be me.”

Tom nodded, though he wasn't sure what she meant by noise. Did it have to do with the anxiety thing Ethan had mentioned?

He didn't really think about it that much because Bella leaned in to kiss him. Of course, he returned the gesture but quickly stopped at as he remembered the next point to bring up.

“By the way, is it okay if we… um…” he trailed off.

“What?” she asked as she sat up against the headboard.

Tom saw her shorts ride up, and for some reason he wasn't expecting to see pinkish scars going across her thighs. His heart nearly dropped at the sight, his mind threatening to go to the darkest place. However, he shook it off and continued his sentence.

“Can we… can we be… abstinent?” His voice went softer with every word, bracing himself for any backlash.

“How come?” Bella asked.

“Uh…”

“Oh!” she said in realization. “You're not feeling like yourself, not in the right mind. I get it. It's okay. We'll take as long as you need.”

Tom sighed in relief. That was so much easier than he expected. He smiled when Bella kissed him on the cheek.

“You're a really good girlfriend, you know that?” he told her as he took her hand.

“I just want you to be happy.”

Tom looked down at their intertwined fingers, mildly content. He couldn't help but think that Ethan was pretty lucky to have someone so understanding and empathetic. However, his mind went to the dark place when he saw the more pink scars on Bella’s wrist, eerily similar to the ones on her thighs. Clearly, he had missed a huge detail about this girl. He just wasn't sure if he was supposed to know about it, though.

_____

tag list: @marie-is-in-the-dark @beardedsteveslut

_____

next

[crcnkgameplays-blog]

Hey I'm​ still pretty new to the tumbls so I'm not sure how this works, but I was wondering if i could get a lil' tythan hc? What if Ethan hurt himself because he broke something and freaked out because of surprise and pain so tol bean Tyler came to his rescue? Thx~~

this is so cute not to make a fic iM SORRY I HOPE YOU LIKE IT NONETHELESS (also fun fact: ty and eth actually live together k bye)

Ethan was fixing his tie, fidgeting and figuring out how to loop this mess. It’s been a while since he had gone to a fancy event such as the one he was about to go. It sucked that it was a black tie event but it gave Ethan an excuse to dress up so formally.

Looking at his reflection didn’t help with tying his tie. Neither did WikiHow or YouTube tutorials with old men who did with such skills. He wanted to resort to using a clip-on but he didn’t even have one. 

“Fuck this, fuck you…” He swore under his breath. Taking the unfinished tie off his neck, Ethan tossed it onto his bed and sighed. He sat down next to the tie and looked at it with a newfound disgust. Who knew this would be hard? It seemed so easy! And yet, he attempted so many techniques found online. Nothing. It always came out as a regular knot.

Ethan looked at his bed stand where a beautiful vase with a variety of flowers. Queen Anne’s Lace, lilacs, lilies. All of the white flowers that were accentuated with a pop of purple from the lilacs. Ethan remembered how excited he had been picking out the flowers along with the intricate vase at the local flower shop. He had been with Tyler and most definitely never forgot when they were both mistaken for a couple. Ethan was furiously flustered and Tyler avoided eye contact that lasted for more than two seconds with him for the whole entire day. Though it may have been yesterday, Ethan felt as if that moment was forever ago. For some reason, he wanted to relive it. Feeling how hot his cheeks were. Noticing how Tyler averted his eyes whenever Ethan caught him staring.

That memory put a small smile on Ethan’s face. He went up to his bed stand to look at the flowers along with the vase. It was glass blown, as said by the florist, with wavy features imprinted that made it look like transparent ocean waves. The pops of vivid purple stood out among the pure whites of the flowers. Faint streaks of yellow were on the petals of the lilies. He reached out to touch the petals with such delicacy. They brushed his fingers so gently. 

He smiled again. Something about them was mesmerizing.

Tyler had just gotten home after helping Mark with something, which left him to arrive late to prepare himself for the event. Feeling exhausted, he opened the door to find just the lights to the living room illuminated. It eased Tyler a bit, having a calm environment surrounding him.

“I’m home!” Tyler shouted as he dropped his keys on the kitchen counter. He started to make his way upstairs to get ready right away.

Hearing Tyler’s voice, Ethan jumped a little but later responded, “I’m upstairs!” Ethan let one of the petals slip from his fingers. He quickly went out of his room, leaning on his door frame. “Could you, um, help me with something Ty?” Ethan felt a little embarrassed to ask his best friend but who else could he turn to when they were the only ones in their home at the moment?

As he reached the top stairs, Tyler then made his way to Ethan’s room. He saw his leaning there with a slightly desperate look on his face. “Is there something wrong?” Tyler asked him, leaning on the wall opposite of where Ethan was.

“Lots of things, like how to tie a tie.” Ethan said, feeling the embarrassment creep up on him.

Tyler raised an eyebrow. “Can’t you, like, Google that type of stuff?”

“I tried to!” Ethan exasperated. “Nothing! WikiHows, tutorials on YouTube, texting my dad! You’re all I got man.” He paused. “That sounded more desperate than I thought it would be.”

Tyler chuckled and rested a hand on Ethan’s shoulder. “No worries, I’ll help.” Ethan smiled widely at his friend. Tyler motioned towards his neck, “So, where’s your tie?”

“Oh,” Ethan perked, “it’s in my room. I’ll go get it.” He went to his bed, retrieving the tie he threw on his bed from before and handed it to Tyler, waiting patiently at his doorway.

“Have at it, my dude,” Ethan casually gave him his mess of a tie to Tyler. Tyler took it from his hands, brushing his fingers against Ethan’s. Ethan tensed up a bit from their contact, which was strange. He put the tie around Ethan’s neck and proceeded to lace his tie. 

Ethan realized how unusually close Tyler was to his face. He looked at Tyler out of curiosity and felt the flustered feeling once more. This moment seemed to drag more. Much like what happened at the flower shop. As Tyler finished, he looked up at Ethan with a warm smile. And right into his eyes.

‘You know, your hair looks so much blue when I’m closer to you like this.” Tyler stated.

Ethan blinked in disbelief.

Tyler realized what he had done to Ethan’s state of mind. Tyler stuttered, “Oh, um. I should…get ready.” He swiftly left Ethan alone in the hallway as he went into his room to change.

He was a blushing mess, unlike his tie now.

“Shit!” Ethan yelled. The vase that Ethan had been carrying downstairs had completely shattered into pieces. “Oh my fucking-!” He dashed down the bottom of the stairs, careful to avoid the large shards of the vase. It was completely scattered on the floor and water was puddling the flowers. They were probably soaked by now. 

“This can’t be happening. Oh my god, oh my god.” Ethan started to freak out.

Tyler heard the loud crash from upstairs and got out of his room, halfway buttoning his shirt. He buttoned it up as fast as he could and yelled back at Ethan. “What happened?”

“I’ll tell you what happened! My fucking precious vase broke! The flowers are soaked and there’s glass all over the bottom of the stairs!” Ethan gave a loud and sharp cry to Tyler.

Leaving his black tuxedo jacket behind, Tyler made his way down the stairs to see exactly what Ethan had been screeching about. Ethan looked like he was about to burst from what unfurled. He wasn’t kidding. It really was a mess.

“You should be quick and pick up the flowers and place them on the kitchen counter,” Tyler directed Ethan. “I’ll go pick up the bigger pieces of glass.”

Sighing, Ethan did as Tyler had told him to do. “I’m an idiot,” he muttered under his breath. Picking up the flowers in one hand, he accidentally pricked himself on the finger on a fragment of glass. Hissing at the contact, he whipped his hand away.

“I’m an even bigger idiot than before,” Ethan said much louder. He clutched his bleeding finger close to himself

“Don’t bring yourself down. It isn’t your fault you dropped it,” Tyler reassured him. It hurt to hear his best friend take about himself like that. He made his way around the jagged pieces of glass to examine Ethan’s small wound. “Besides, I believe there’s an extra vase around this house somewhere. I’ll try and check the cabinets as soon as I help you.”

“I’m not a baby, Ty,” Ethan suggested.

“I know,” Tyler stated, “It’s just, you’re so down tonight. I don’t want you to bring that attitude to the party and I really don’t know how to handle you like that.” It was a true confession. Ever since yesterday’s “incident”, the two had been nothing but awkward tension. He knelt next to Ethan, taking his hand into his without even asking what he was going to do.

Ethan rolled his eyes. This guy couldn’t help but to treat him like a child. “It’s just been a hectic night, all right?” He laughed it off to put Tyler at ease, but that didn’t work.

Tyler looked at Ethan quizzically, still holding onto his hand. “If this is about me, then you better speak up about it or else I’ll be shaming you with that turkey costume we still have.”

Oh god, his face was close just like when he was tying his tie. Acting cool, Ethan laughed slightly, recalling the videos they did with Mark, and took his hand away from Tyler. “Okay. Fine. But first, can we please get a ban-aid for my finger? And pick up these things,” Ethan gestured towards the disarray on the floor, “and then we’ll talk about it.”

“All right,” Tyler sighed. “Be glad that cut isn’t deep. I’ll be searching for that vase if you need me.”

‘I’ll always be needing you,’ Ethan thought to himself. He had to admit it. Ethan wouldn’t be able to do anything without the support of Tyler by his side. Everything about the guy was amazing. His unkempt curls, contagious laughter, that smirk.

Was it even possible he was falling for his best friend?

Ethan picked up the flowers from the ground, the thought of falling in love swarming his head. Getting up from the ground, Ethan made his way towards the kitchen counter. Placing the messy bouquet with a thud, he made the other way around the the drawers where the bandages were held. Ethan glanced at Tyler, who was very much occupied with finding that vase he was talking about earlier. He bit his lip, trying to repress a smile. There most definitely was a chance he had feelings for this guy.

He perused around the drawer. Screwdriver, bolts, Chapstick, mints, and finally- the band-aids. Ethan opened the top of the box, avoiding the stinging finger from touching the edges. Placing the band-aid onto his finger, Ethan put away everything.

“Found it!” Tyler exclaimed. “Behold, the primary color vase our very own Amy gave me.”

Ethan turned around to see it. It was mosaic-styled rectangular vase, with blocked of red, yellow, and blue. The vase wouldn’t seem fitting for the flowers Ethan had chosen but at this point in time, he was desperate.

“It’s so…Amy of her.” Ethan admitted, still gawking at it.

“It may not be ‘flower shop’ worthy, but it’s a vase nonetheless.”Tyler waved the thing around but Ethan took it out of his hand. “I don’t want you to break it.” Ethan stated.

“Says the guy who broke down on the floor about a vase he broke himself.” Tyler rebutted, hints of sarcasm traced everywhere.

Rolling his eyes, Ethan made sure to hold on tightly to this one. “For the record, I did not break down. I was simply shook at the sight of my masterpiece in ruins.”

“Okay, blue boy,” Tyler scoffed, “I need to get going with cleaning those shards.” And made his way to the stairwell.

Ethan most definitely needed that guy in his life.

[wellimhavinga3outof10day]

A Roof Over His Head

Description: Jughead asks if he can crash on Archie's couch for the night after the drive-in shuts down. (AKA the obligatory Jughead-gets-adopted fic.)

Read on AO3

Jughead walked down the hallway half-listening to Archie as he rambled on about whatever he was worried about. Jughead knew he’d heard it all before – Archie pretty much hadn’t stopped talking about Miss Grundy since she’d left – so he didn’t feel too bad about tuning him out. He had his own problems to deal with. Like where the hell he was going to sleep that night.

           He hummed in agreement when Archie asked a question about something or other. Apparently not the right course of action because then Archie started to stare at him. “What?” Jughead said.

           “Can I see it?”

           “See what?”

           “The math homework,” Archie said. “You just said I could copy it.”

           “Oh, right. I didn’t do it.”

           Archie gave him a curious look that Jughead did his best to avoid by staring at his feet. The soles of his sneakers were starting to tear off and he’d been having an internal debate with himself all week on whether or not he should buy new ones or just duct tape them back together and save up until he could get another job.

           Archie jostled his shoulder. “You all right, man?”

           “Yeah, sorry. Just... thinking.” Jughead bit his lip, swallowed a sigh, and played a card he really hated to play. Especially since he and Archie had just gotten back on good terms. “Hey, Arch? You think I could crash on your couch tonight?”

           “Sure,” Archie said. “Why?”

           Jughead shrugged. “You know, Jellybean’s got this big solo in her choir concert and ever since she won the part she will not stop singing and I really need to get some sleep tonight before the Bio test tomorrow.”

           Archie smiled. “She got the solo? Really?”

           Jughead rolled his eyes. “Choir director must be fucking deaf, but yeah. She got it.”

           “Can I come?”

           He shrugged, looked away. Panic bubbled in his stomach but he did his best to play it off. “Yeah, of course. Not quite sure when it is, but I’ll check and get back to you.”

           They walked a few more steps in silence and Jughead hoped he could get to class without Archie asking anymore questions. Jughead had never been a bad liar; he just tended to use a lot of details when he lied. And the more details he used, the harder it was to keep track of what he’d said. He made a mental note to write down Jellybean’s supposed choir solo before he forgot about it completely.

           “Is this about the drive-in shutting down?” Archie said out of nowhere.

           Jughead glanced up. Too fast. Too shocked. Fuck. “What? No. Why would you think that?” He forced himself to breathe, to give Archie his most confused look. Archie didn’t know. Archie didn’t know. Archie, for the love of fucking god, did not know.

           Archie shrugged. “Just, when we were kids, you only ever asked to sleep over at my house when you were upset about something. And I know that drive-in meant a lot to you, so... come on. You can tell me. Are you sad it’s gone?”

           Jughead scoffed. “We’re not going to talk about our feelings in the middle of a school hallway.”

           “Whatever, man.” Archie clapped him hard on the shoulder and then stepped away. “I’ll see you at lunch?”

           Jughead nodded and breathed a sigh of relief as soon as Archie turned away. He didn’t know what he’d expected from asking Archie for a place to stay – certainly he hadn’t expected Archie to automatically know something was off or to turn him down – but he had a bad feeling about the whole thing now. He shook it off. He should be feeling better. He didn’t have to worry about where he was going to sleep tonight and Archie wasn’t that suspicious. It had turned out all right.

  Jughead waited for two hours after school ended before heading over to Archie’s. It was under the pretense of “going to grab his stuff from home” but in reality, pretty much everything he owned was currently stuffed in his locker. Once enough time had passed – and really, he’d let too much time pass – he left the school and headed towards Archie’s place.

           He knocked on the door at a little past five and smiled when Fred opened the door. For a few minutes he suffered through adult-teenager small talk – How was school going? How was his dad? What was he spending all his time writing? – before Archie came to the rescue. He excused them both, grabbed the takeout from the kitchen, and pulled Jughead up to his bedroom.

           “Sorry about that,” Archie said as he flopped down on the end of his bed. “I was finishing up some homework.”

           “Bullshit.” Jughead dropped into the desk chair and swung around. Narrowing his eyes, he fixed Archie with his best suspicious look and smirked. “You were wasting time talking to a girl, weren’t you?”

           Archie tossed a bag of food at him. “Shut up.”

           Jughead pulled his legs up so he could sit cross-legged in the chair. Resting the bag between his legs, he opened it and wrapped his hand around a burger. The warmth felt good against his palm and his stomach grumbled in response. “Whatever,” he said. He took a large bite and spoke with his mouth full. “Who are you after now? Betty’s mom? Veronica’s?” Jughead snapped his fingers. “The math teacher. I knew you were trying to impress her by having the homework done.”

           Archie rolled his eyes but he looked slightly uncomfortable as he dug into his food.

           Jughead swallowed, a weight settling in his stomach. “Hey, I didn’t mean... I know Grundy fucked you up. I didn’t mean to... whatever. I’m sorry.”

           “It’s fine,” Archie said. “I just... miss her.”

           “You shouldn’t.”

           “Yeah. That’s what everyone keeps telling me.” Archie shook his head and put his food to the side. “But it’s not like what everyone keeps saying. She didn’t hurt me. She didn’t do anything I didn’t want to do. And anyways, I went after her. Why should she be punished for that?”

           Jughead blinked. “Because she’s an adult, Arch. And whether you went after her or not, she had the responsibility to stop you.”

           Archie sighed. “You don’t get it.”

           “I do. Actually.” Jughead swallowed what was in his mouth and met Archie’s eyes. “I know what you’re feeling. You’ve told me everything that happened, every little detail, right? There’s nothing you left out?”

           Archie shook his head.

           “Then here’s what I know, from an impartial perspective. She manipulated you. She guilted you into keeping your mouth shut. She threatened you with jail time when you did nothing wrong. She’s a grown woman who took advantage of you. And I’m really sorry that happened to you, Arch. I was a really shitty friend.”

           Archie’s forehead wrinkled and he shook his head. “No, you weren’t. You did everything I asked. You protected me.”

           “I did fucking nothing,” Jughead said. “I just let it happen. A good friend would have called the cops the second you said anything about it.”

           “She didn’t do anything wrong!”

           “She raped you.”

           Archie opened his mouth to protest and then closed it abruptly. He looked down at the food in his lap, at his shoes on the floor. “I don’t want to talk about it,” he said, voice pitched low.

           Jughead nodded even though he knew Archie wasn’t looking. He went back to his burger, trying to chew slower, to make the most of the silence. Maybe forcing Archie to come to terms with what had happened wasn’t the best idea. He really had to Google what to do in this situation because he had no fucking clue. He knew Fred had set up an appointment with a therapist and even though Archie really didn’t want to go, he would be forced to one way or another. Jughead took the last bite of his burger and washed it down with a long sip of soda.

           “Have you found a new job yet?” Archie said.

           “Hmm?” Jughead shook his head and pushed the chair so it spun in a circle again. “Not yet. Nowhere seems to be hiring.”

           “I’m sure Pop would hire you in an instant. You’re his best customer.”

           “And I’d prefer to stay that way. Pop’s is like my home away from home. I don’t want to go there to work.”

           “Fair enough.” Archie took a sip of his soda. “You really okay about the drive-in closing?”

           “It is what it is.”

           “Yeah, but, come on. Your family used to go there all the time. I remember when you were little you’d look forward to Friday not because it was the end of the school week, but because it meant your family was going to the drive-in.” Archie laughed. “I remember, with vivid detail, how upset you were when you hit your growth spurt in sixth grade and no longer comfortably fit into the trunk of the car. You just kept crying.”

           “Shut up.” Jughead chucked a fry at him. “I did not.”

           “You did. I was there. Actually, you burst into tears in the middle of a science lesson on rockets and started blubbering about how it just really scared you to think about going to the moon—”

           “Stop!” Jughead couldn’t stop laughing as the memory played in his head. It was probably the most embarrassing thing he’d ever done which meant it was burned into his brain second by second. He could almost remember the exact words he’d said. “Okay, fine. I’m a little upset that the drive-in’s about to be destroyed, but I’ll get over it.”

           “We had a lot of good times there.” Archie smiled as he chewed on his straw. “You had a lot of good times there. A lot of memories.”

           Jughead shrugged. “Not all good memories. I mean, looking back, it’s kind of fucking sad, isn’t it? My parents didn’t have enough money to buy four tickets. I spent a lot of time in the trunk of my dad’s car. All I remember about most of the movies is my mom putting her hands over my eyes when something scandalous happened.” Jughead forced a short laugh. “I’d prefer to not remember.”

           “Yeah, but, it has to be better to remember her like that than—”

           “Like how I found her?” The words came out sharper than Jughead intended them to and Archie quickly retreated from the conversation. Jughead forced himself to breathe, pushed the memory back into the depths of his mind. First his most embarrassing moment and now his most traumatizing one. So far staying at Archie’s had been a bad idea. Jughead whispered, “I don’t want to talk about it.”

           Archie nodded and they sat in relative silence for a long time. Archie finished his food. Jughead sipped at his soda until all he had left was slowly melting ice cubes. He took off the lid and poured a few ice cubs into his mouth, started to chew. Archie balled up his trash and threw it into the trash can across the room. A perfect shot. Jughead snorted.

           “Let’s cut the heavy shit,” Archie said. “You wanna play truth or dare?”

           Jughead gave him a pitying look. “This isn’t a sleepover, Arch. And we’re not junior high school girls.”

           “Humour me.”

           Jughead rolled his eyes. “Fine. Truth or dare?”

           “Dare.”

           “Send a dick pic to Reggie.”

           Archie burst out laughing. “That is not happening.”

           “Why not? It’ll freak him out, which is a win, and then you can tell him it was an accident and meant for someone else and he’ll spend the next month congratulating you on getting some.” Jughead shrugged. “Or, better yet, don’t tell him it was an accident and act all offended that he didn’t like it and he won’t talk to you for the rest of your life.”

           Rolling his eyes, Archie pulled out his phone. “Fine. But I’m not taking a picture of my dick. I’m picking a random one off the internet.” He tapped a few buttons on his phone and then dropped it by his side. “Now we wait.”

           His phone buzzed almost immediately.

           Archie checked it and laughed. “He says, and I quote, ‘What the fuck, Andrews? Tell me you hit the wrong contact or I’ll fucking kill you.’” He smiled down at his phone for a long moment, typed a response, and then waited. He laughed again. “Oh, he did not like that.”

           “What’d you say?”

           “I said of course it was for someone else, but now that you’ve seen it, how’d you like it?” Archie met Jughead’s eyes. “He texted back gibberish in all caps. Bet you he blocked my number.”

           Jughead smiled.

           “Truth or dare?” Archie said.

           “Truth.”

           “You got a crush on anyone?”

           Jughead rolled his eyes. “Seriously? Are you trying to act like a prepubescent girl?”

           “Just a question,” Archie said. “You never tell me about those kinds of things.”

           “Because I don’t have those kinds of things.”

           “What?”

           Jughead shrugged. He popped another fry in his mouth. “I’ve never had a crush. Don’t really see the appeal either.”

           Archie made a face but let it drop. His phone buzzed again and he checked it before getting up and heading over to the window.

           “Betty?” Jughead said.

           “Yeah.” Archie was typing. “She’s been checking up on me every night. I think she’s still worried I hate her after what her mom did.”

           “For once, Alice Cooper did something right,” Jughead said. “Why blame her?”

           Archie ignored that comment. “She wants to know who I’m talking to. You care if she knows you’re here?”

           “Why would I?”

           He shrugged. “You two just seem pretty chummy lately, so—”

           “Fuck off.” Jughead groaned. “Are you really trying to pawn Betty off on me so that you can go after Veronica guilt free? Because, I’m telling you, that’s a pretty shitty thing to do to your best friend.”

           “You mean you or Betty?”

           “Betty. God help the person who dates me.”

           “Person?” Archie arched an eyebrow at him, his eyes only leaving his phone for a second as he leaned back against the window. “You know, you can tell me if you’re gay. I don’t care.”

           “I’m not gay.” Jughead turned away and opened Archie’s laptop which had been left open on Cheryl’s Twitter account. He decided not to comment on that. “Anyways, I’m not the one who tried to kiss me two years ago, so—”

           “Fuck you. You know I’d just had my first beer and—”

           “Beer. Great idea.” Jughead swung around to face Archie again. “Where does your dad keep it?”

           Archie shook his head and flopped down on his bed. “Forget it. He counts them and has lines on all the hard liquor.”

           “You can redraw lines.”

           “He’s also probably sitting like three feet from the liquor cabinet. So if you really want him to call your dad and for them to have a parental talk about drinking habits among fifteen year-old boys, be my guest.”

           “Pass.” Jughead exhaled heavily. “Are we still playing truth or dare?”

           “Truth.”

           “Cheryl’s Twitter?”

           “She was on a rampage. I wanted to know why. Truth or dare?”

           “Dare.”

           “Tell Betty I made a pass at you.”

           Jughead snorted. “She won’t believe me.” He already had his phone out though and sent a quick text to Betty: hey, did I ever tell you about the time Archie tried to kiss me? We should reminisce about how bad he is at it. A second later, she replied: Do you guys not have better things to do than childishly prank people? Jughead said: Nope. Then he looked up at Archie, shrugged. “Told you.”

           Archie frowned.

           “You wanna like actually do your homework or something? It is a school night.”

           Archie smirked. “Because you’re gonna do your homework.”

           “I’m smart,” Jughead said. “I can bullshit it between classes. You? Not so much.”

           Archie threw a pillow at him and got up. He gestured for Jughead to get out of his chair and they switched places. Jughead lay down with his head on Archie’s pillow, stared up at the poster of an Olympic swimmer coming out of the water. He didn’t think too hard about why Archie’d posted that above his bed.

           As the scratch of Archie’s pencil filled the room, Jughead let his eyes close. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d actually laid down on a real mattress. The cot in the drive-in had been his bed for over a year.

           He woke up some time later to the jostling of the bed. Archie was fighting his way under the covers beside him. Jughead mumbled, “Sorry, man. I’ll go sleep on the couch.”

           “Don’t be an idiot,” Archie said. He managed to nestle himself beside Jughead on the narrow mattress. “Go back to sleep.”

           “As long as you don’t try to kiss me again.”

           “Fuck off.” Archie almost pushed Jughead out of the bed as he laughed.

           Silence descended over them, warm and friendly. Jughead wriggled closer to the edge of the mattress to give Archie more room – it was his bed, after all – and let his eyes close again. He could feel Archie’s weight beside him, the gentle lull of his breath. It made it a lot easier to fall asleep.

  The next day at school, about halfway through first period, Archie texted Jughead to tell him he’d left all his shit at his house. Jughead bit his tongue as he reread Archie’s words. Usually when he left things at Archie’s, he’d just pick them up the next time he was over, no rush. But he really needed his toothbrush and other toiletries and the clothes in his bag. With a sigh, he texted back: Can I pick it up after class?

           Yeah, Archie replied. Stay for dinner. Dad’s actually cooking tonight.

           Jughead couldn’t find a reason not to accept, so he agreed and headed home with Archie after school. He gathered his stuff up and set his bag by the front door so he wouldn’t forget it when he left. They ended up laughing and talking with Fred over dinner. Jughead made up lies to cover the awkward questions and nodded along to assumptions the Andrews made about his family. After dinner, Jughead lingered and played video games with Archie. Everything was fine until Jughead started to pack up to leave.

           “If you give me a minute, I’ll drive you home, Jug,” Fred said.

           Jughead froze with his hand on the backpack’s zipper. “Umm,” he said, “don’t worry about it. I can walk.”

           “Yeah, but it’s late.” Fred grabbed his keys from the wall. “I’ll give you a ride.”

           “You really don’t need to.” Jughead fought hard to keep his voice under control as Fred started to put on his shoes. “I don’t live too far away and I like the exercise. I mean, I eat way too much anyways. I need to work off the calories somehow.”

           Fred gave him a look. “Jughead, I appreciate that you don’t want to put me out, but it’s really no trouble. And after what happened to Jason, I just don’t feel right letting you wander around in the dark.”

           Jughead nodded. He was sure the panic must have been clear on his face but years of looking skeptical of absolutely everything must have made any other expression he made hard to read. “Sure,” he said. “You can drop me at the school. I can walk from there.”

           “You live in the opposite direction of the school,” Archie said. He had a confused look on his face like maybe Jughead had lost his mind.

           “We moved.”

           “When?”

           “I don’t know. A while ago?” He knew his voice was too sharp, too annoyed. He shrugged. “We never go to my place so it’s not like I had a reason to tell you.”

           “Give me the address and I’ll drop you off there,” Fred said. He had his jacket on now and was headed for the door. “Don’t want it on my hands if you don’t make it home in one piece.”

           “I really don’t think that’s a good idea.” Jughead knew he was scrambling now but he went with the low blow. “My dad hasn’t really forgiven you for firing him and me in your car, well, it just wouldn’t be the best thing for him to see, you know? I can get home fine from the school. I’ll text Archie when I get there.”

           Fred and Archie both stared at him for a long moment. Fred didn’t look like he believed Jughead’s excuse one bit. After all, while Jughead’s dad had been a little mad, he’d invited Fred to a barbeque not even a week later. Jughead bit his tongue while the Andrews stared at him, tried not to shake or speak or do anything else that might give him away.

           “What’s really going on, Jughead?” Fred said. “There’s no bad blood between me and your dad.”

           “Look, I just don’t want you to drop me off, okay? Is that so fucking hard to understand?”

           “Jug.” Archie’s voice was low, shocked.

           Fred looked like he’d been slapped.

           Jughead swallowed hard, tried not to let the tears escape. With a deep breath, he steadied himself and pushed his bangs back under the brim of his hat. “I’m sorry. That was uncalled for. I’d just... I’d really prefer to walk home. Is that okay?”

           Archie nodded but Fred shook his head. He took a step closer to Jughead, concern in his eyes, and said, “I’m not letting you step foot out that door until you tell me what’s wrong, Jughead. What aren’t you telling us? Is something wrong at home? Are you in some kind of trouble? Do you need help?”

           “I’m fine.”

           “Jug,” Archie started, slow, “you said you wished you’d been a better friend to me. And I didn’t want that from you but... maybe it would’ve been for the best. So, if something’s wrong, if you need help, at the very least, give me the chance to do the right thing?”

           Jughead shook his head. “I don’t need help.”

           “Then why won’t you let me take you home?”

           Jughead met Fred’s eyes and immediately felt like a six year old kid again, trying to explain how, after being told multiple times not to play baseball in the house, he and Archie had managed to break a lamp. Except this was worse. Because Fred wasn’t mad at him, he wasn’t going to be mad at him, and Jughead was backed into a corner, forced to confess this time.

           “I don’t have a home,” Jughead said. His voice cracked on the last word and he looked down at his feet as he rushed through the rest of his explanation. “My dad was in debt to the Southside Serpents which is why he was stealing from you and after he was fired, we lost the house and he joined their ranks and Jellybean ran away and I’ve been sleeping in the drive-in for the last year.”

           Silence covered the room. Silence except for the sound of Jughead’s racing heart.

           “I was going to break into the school and sleep in the student’s lounge,” he whispered. “It’s not that bad. They have a nice couch.”

           Still no one said anything. Jughead couldn’t bring himself to look up. He didn’t want to see what Fred looked like. Did he blame himself? It wasn’t his fault Jughead’s dad had fallen in with a bad crowd. Did he pity him? Jughead had kept this secret because he didn’t want anyone to pity him. And Archie? Jughead couldn’t imagine what his friend must be thinking, feeling. Did Archie blame himself for not seeing it sooner? Jughead wanted to vomit or rewind time or run out the door before either of them could stop him.

           “Archie,” Fred said finally, “can you go make up the spare bedroom?”

           Jughead looked up to see Archie nod and start off. Then he met Fred’s eyes.

           Fred forced a smile so strained at the edges that his lips were a little white at the corners. He gripped Jughead’s shoulder. “I want you to stay here for as long as you need to. I don’t care if that means you stay here all through high school and into college, you hear me? You are always welcome in my home.”

           Jughead nodded, tried not to cry.

           Then Fred pulled him into a hug and slapped him on the back. “Whatever part I played in this happening to you, I’m sorry.”

           “It’s not your fault. Even with a job, my dad couldn’t have kept the house forever.”

           “Is your sister all right?”

           Jughead shrugged. “I got a postcard a couple of months ago but nothing since.”

           “How old is she? Twelve?”

           “Yeah.”

           “She shouldn’t be on her own.”

           Jughead shrugged again, not really sure what to say. He didn’t know what was up with Jellybean but she seemed okay. If he could take care of himself, she could definitely take care of herself. She’d always been smarter than him, more resourceful, definitely wouldn’t have managed to get backed into the corner he’d just been forced into. He smiled a little thinking about her on her own, probably living a lot larger than he was.

           “We’ll find her,” Fred said. “A kid should have a family. A roof over their head.”

           “The school has a roof,” Jughead mumbled.

           Fred smiled at him, kind of sad, and it made Jughead’s innards twist uncomfortably. Fred cleared his throat. “Well, take off your shoes. You’re not going anywhere.”

           Jughead nodded and slipped off his sneakers. Fred started to walk away and, before he could disappear, Jughead blurted out, “Thank you.”

           Fred looked over his shoulder. “You’re family, Jughead. We take care of our family.”

           Jughead nodded and then quickly looked away. He slipped off his jacket, hung it up, and headed for the basement. He reached the door to the spare room just as Archie finished putting on a pillowcase. He leaned in the doorway, scanned the bare walls. “Not really my aesthetic, here,” Jughead said.

           “I’ll try to convince my dad to let you paint it black,” Archie said.

           They stood a few feet away from each other, saying nothing.

           “You could have told me,” Archie said. “We could’ve done something a lot sooner.”

           Jughead shrugged. “I was thirteen. I asked you to get drunk and you tried to kiss me.”

           Archie smiled weakly. “Well, you’re here now.”

           “Yeah. And I guess this makes you a better friend than I am, so.”

           He laughed and clapped Jughead on the shoulder as he wedged past him in the doorway. “I’m sure you’ll figure out how to make it up to me.”

           Jughead nodded but didn’t turn around to watch Archie go. Instead, he stood in the doorway and stared at his new bedroom. It was filled with reject furniture and Archie’s art projects from elementary school. The walls were white, there wasn’t much room, and there was no desk. But, Jughead supposed, it was a warm, safe bed in his best friend’s house. After years without such luxuries, he found it hard not to let a tear escape. Then he collapsed onto the bed and started to cry in earnest.

[yesithoughtthat-blog]

It’s OK to quit your job

Maybe it was when I sat at my desk that I realized it, or in line at Pret and feeling the urge burning in my throat, clouding my mind, numbing my hands. 

“everyone cries -- I’m just an easy crier.” I wasn’t ashamed of crying, crying is in my blood, it’s the first way I usually come to express my (almost always) overwhelming emotions. So when I casually strolled into the bathroom at Pret, which I knew would soon become my safehaven, I immediately burst into tears as a way of relieving all the emotions building up. I wasn’t necessarily overwhelmingly sad, but I knew I could afford a little meltdown before I had to head back into my first day of work, and why not? It would give me relief and then I could pick myself back up and continue on my way. I think it’s funny how whenever I cry, I always look at myself in the mirror during the midst of my breakdown. I’m always surprised by how I look even though I’ve literally seen myself cry a million times. Just like, wow, your really deep in some emotions right now, huh. I was going to type, “this bitch really is ugly af when she cries” but I’m working on reducing my use of self-depricating humor. 

So going back to my breakdown, I’m in the mirror, crying, realizing my foundation is being wiped away with my tears, fuck I didn’t pack my foundation so I’ll just blot my face when I get back to the office and hope there aren’t obvious tear tracks on my face. I don’t exactly remember if I felt relief, maybe just relief that I had a moment to not pretend I was ok, but the sadness was still there. I had had a stressful morning, me and my dad had missed our train, fast-walked to my building, I was exhausted from not sleeping (stress and anxiety, ofc), I had barely ate (because not eating when I’m stressed is a great habit, ofc) and now I couldn’t stop the thoughts coming into my head.

The thoughts. Like I miss being at college, I miss my friends, I can’t believe I’m an adult now. The thing about having OCD is my mind tends to go to extremes, tends to believe in the worst case scenario, tends to make me, or at least try, the most miserable I can be. Thankfully it’s all kind of muted and hazy thanks to my antidepressant, my dear dear antidepressant Viibryd. And reading this now I am remembering I never took it today. 

OK back from that. So, yea, I missed being at college, I was exhausted, I could not believe that I would have to repeat this whole day again tomorrow. That drived me nuts too. I hate waking up early with a passion. Again, stems from staying up late because anxiety then it becomes a habit then it starts to interfere with my life, as do all self-destructive habits that come along with mental illnesses. And on top of that, starting a new job is just stressful in its itself! So I had all of these seemingly nice people welcoming me, I had a promising job, but I was miserable. I was silently crying at my desk, I was barely able to concentrate on my job, but I figured it’s pass, that I needed to give myself time to adjust and that I could push through it like I had everything else. 

And thennnnn the next day came. Let me preface this by interjecting that when I say I have an “anxiety disorder” (because OCD is usually met with a face that I can tell is thinking “well I have no idea what that it is but it sounds unpleasant”), they (anyone I tell), is usually thinking that I am anxious over the standard things. Like, oh, I’m anxious people won’t like me, or I’ll have a lot of work, which yea, I was. But also, OCD gives me alot of other stuff to worry about. So just going through about my usual day, I can list off the top of my head what I’d be worried about. Like, I get out of the car and say bye to my mom, and I think “What if this is the last time I see her,” which is not a fun thing to think. And then I wait for the train and I think “what if I passed out right now and then I fell on the tracks, or I tried to get on the train and I fall through the gap” or then I get on the train and think “what if the train gets stuck AND THEN i pass out on the train or I have an anxiety attack” AND THEN i get to penn and I think “what if i passed out in front of all these people or get an anxiety attack” AND THEN i walk to work and that’s when the vertigo starts, or the dissociation, or the clammy hands or dry mouth or all of the above and I’m thinking “all you have to do is walk in a straight line, just walk to work” and I can feel the fuzziness in my hands, I can feel it all over my fucking skin and I feel like it’s someone else looking through my eyes and I just can’t grasp if it’s me looking out or if it’s me thinking about thinking and if I’m really there and am I losing my mind or am I imagining my vision going slightly shifty, slightly hazy to make me nervous but not to put me in any danger, just uncomfortable enough to put some sweat on the back on my neck and twitch my hands in my pocket, picking at the same piece of skin next to my thumbnail over and over until it’s bleeding and I have to suffocate it. I have to suffocate the thoughts and I have to get to work on time but I’m so stressed I’m so. fucking. stressed.

And then I get to work. And it doesn’t stop. And mind you, this is my second day! And of course, the second day I cried again, silently weeping at my desk. Of course this job involved the two things I hated, public speaking and flying. it was almost laughable. I actually did laugh, me and my therapist later on. My whole job was giving presentations to clients (middle-aged, stoic faced, insurance or investment clients), and FLYING to different states to give these presentations. Maybe by myself, maybe with a coworker. And I knew 100% I couldn’t do that. So why would I stay? Quitting right before I was supposed to give a huge presentation was obviously not a good idea. But to even think about the work I was doing right now, at that moment, at my desk bored as fuck and feeling so inferior to everyone around me working on computer science and business, which is probably not an accurate but yes how I did feel thought, and then to be stressed, to just want to catch my breath. I knew I had to quit. I knew I was pushing myself too hard. My mom knew it, we had looked at each other before I had gotten out of the car and I had known that fuck, this was going to be hard wasn’t it. So on top of all this stress was my good old friend vertigo popping back into my life, and I’m sitting at my bosses desk and were listening in on a meeting and I feel the floor shift. I had felt it before too when I had gone to the bathroom and that sometimes happens when I sit for too long (and meanwhile as I’m peeing my coworker is brushing her teeth because she had forgot to this morning, if anyone wants an idea of what adult life really is like), and anyways, I’m at her desk and I feel the floor shift. Up, down, tilting side to side like I’m on a boat and I start to feel a little uneasy. And I cannot wait for this fucking meeting to be over. For this client to just shut up already the software is fine, do you really need to understand that part Kathy can I please just leave already, so I’m essentially just staring at the desk at this point and then my boss asks me if I have any questions and I :) of course do not have any, I’m great, awesome, thanks! And I get back to my desk and S.S. Anxiety is fast away on its course, taking me up and down and downnnnn and up and I am freaking the fuck out, naturally. This happened to me before, so it’s not a new feeling, it’s probably my birth control (which is another long story) so I of course then begin to realize -- how am I walking back to Penn. And that fills me with dread. A lot of dread. And after about 20 minutes of deliberation I meekly walk into the girl’s office next to mine, HR, because I guess that’s where you ask to leave early? Who knows. And i ask her if i can leave early and I can feel the tears wanting to surface, I’m embarassed and she tells me I have to ask my boss and I do noooot want to do that. So I sit back at my desk and I’m trying to do some deep breaths, trying to calm down and it eventually it passes! Thank god it passes. And thank god it finally becomes 6 and I start walk to back to penn and I get in the first cab i see because i have had a long day and I deserve this thank you very much. And the cab driver is super nice, telling me how to get to penn because he can tell i have no idea where I’m going, poor girl. And i get to penn and I get on a 6:20 train and i close my eyes and almost miss my stop. But it’s ok because I’m finally home. 

Fast forward the next 2 days, I’m home sick with vertigo, I go to a primary doctor and then an ENT and get prescribed medication that helps. I think my boss is mad at me but I’ve got other fish to fry. I go in monday, I try my hardest, and it’s too much. And that’s what I want to get at. Life is not linear. Just because your “supposed” to do something doesn’t mean you have to. I took a year off of college, even though I wasn’t “supposed” to, and I will never regret it, I am so fucking thankful and grateful I did. And when I sent my resignation letter in later that day, I knew I would be grateful I did.

It’s OK to not follow the line people try to paint you. To take a break, to take care of yourself. My happiness and health comes first. I will be OK not having this job, with finding something else, what other job, I do not know as of right now. But for now, I am going to commit to working on things I have wanted to for a whileeeee, like working out! and continuing to improve how I manage my emotions, because that will always be an up and down situation I can work on. I ranted alot to my friends about this, but I also googled “quitting job bc of anxiety” and reading the 3 other blog posts I found made me feel a little less alone, and I’m a huge advocate of speaking out about mental health, so hopefully someone else out there reads this and knows they aren’t alone too. You’ll be ok. Trust me.