#their arms straight out of a months-long coma are what mine wish they were after a pump sesh

[ct-hardcase]

ceret is hot. to me.

[samanthalightning]

She's Got A Date-EoWells X Allen!reader- Part I

*The GIF is not mine. All rights belongs to the owner*

Summary: You decided to cook for your secret boyfriend, but things did not go accordingly.

Warnings: Smut. Oral (fem!receiving)

***

Just a month ago, your brother woke up from a 9-month coma he was in. Everything has changed since December. The city mourned it's losses. Joe became more heavily into work, Iris is dating behind his back with Eddie. You graduated from school, you became an employee at S.T.A.R Labs despite of it's downfall. And you were also dating someone behind their backs.

5 more minutes before you're done for the day, you find yourself in the cortex, head laid back on the leather chair, spinning it while you stare at the ceiling. The boredom is not what's bothering you, it's the sweet torture of waiting. You've been excited since the day started, you managed to get through the whole day and a few more minutes is killing you.

Cisco entered the room, holding a tablet in his hand. He took a seat beside you and typed something on the computer.

"You okay, Y/N?" He asked.

"Yeah, just can't wait for this day to over,"

His head slowly turning his head to you, craning it to the side with narrowed eyes at you. "Miss Y/N Allen hurrying out of work? That's suspicious. You got a date?"

Your eyes went wide and jolted upright in your seat. "No!" You blurted loudly.

A perplexed look crossed his face, slightly taken a back with your reaction, as he was only teasing, but you actually thought he was onto you.

You blinked, the blood drained from your cheeks upon the realization of what you've done. You have to throw him off guard or else he'd be actually onto you, and all of the ridiculous excuses you've made will be all gone to waste. And he will kill you for actually spilling the beans without his consent.

You fiddled with the edge of the white sweater that Barry got for your graduation that he missed, as you rack your brain for a decent excuse. You stared at him for far too long, it was just seconds really, but you panicked and went along with whatever comes out of your mouth.

"I mean, I don't have a date, I'm not going out tonight or meet someone, or have dinner with anyone— I don't have a date!" You snapped.

"Okay, chill." He raised his hands up. "I was only teasing,"

You laughed nervously. "Cool,"

He turned back to whatever was he doing on the computer, still wholly confused on whatever was going on with you. You didn't say anything; you didn't trust yourself and your mouth. You checked your watch for time, and your shift officially ended. You picked your shoulder bag from the floor and slung it over your shoulder.

"Hey, I gotta go, Cisco. Bye, good night!" You jumped out of your seat, and picked up the messenger bag you have, slinging it over your shoulder.

"Good night." He watched you as hurriedly left the cortex, he can even hear you running down the hallway . He shakes his head and chuckles to himself; you were very obvious.

Just as you left, Dr. Wells wheeled into the cortex.

"Y/N already left, Cisco?" He asked.

Cisco nodded. "Yup. She got a date,"

You decided that you will cook tonight. You and your love haven't had a decent date night ever since Barry woke up from the coma with a newfound speed. And you never really went out for dinner like normal couples do. So if you can't go to a restaurant, you'll bring the restaurant to you.

Compared to Iris' cooking, you're basically a master chef, but compared to normal people's cooking, you weren't actually that good. But you decided that you will cook for dinner anyway. What's a little steak compared to a mechanical engineer who works for a team that kicks meta-humans' butts? If things go awry, pizza's the back-up plan.

With a steak that's overcooked, the potatoes and the salad barely even done, and you have spent an hour trying to make things go accordingly and you were on the verge of a mental breakdown, but on the bright side, the soufflé are done. Maybe you should've ordered pizza. It's not too late, he isn't here yet.

Abruptly, there was a knock coming from your door.

"No, no, no," you whispered, hurrying out of the kitchen to head for the door.

You opened the door, wishing that it wasn't him, only to be disappointed once you laid your eyes on him. He had a small smile on his face, looking at yourself. He did really take the whole dinner thing seriously, because you're cooking. In a fancy suit, he ditched the tie, and the two buttons were undone. He held a bottle of wine on his lap.

Your boyfriend, Dr. Harrison Wells.

"Hello,"

"Hey babe," you leaned down and gave him a peck on the lips, before stepping aside to let him in your small apartment.

You took the wine and placed it on your coffee table, slightly anxious as you stood behind him.

"You're early,"

He merely shrugged. "What's for dinner?" He asked, heading straight to the kitchen, eyeing everything on the counter.

Your face scrunched up, pressing your lips together, following behind him. "About that..." You watched, as his confusion settled on his face, his head tilted to the side, when he saw the food.

Your cheeks were warm in embarrassment, mentally cursing yourself for ruining everything.

"I may have slightly overcooked it. And I haven't cooked the sides," you explained, scratching your head.

You expected a reaction from him, dreaded it, actually, but he glanced up to you with this stoic, blank expression on his face. You can't read it; you don't know what's on his mind, is he disappointed? You have no idea, and it's infuriating, honestly.

Your shoulder slumped with a weary sigh and frowned, "Look, I'm sorry. I really tried, but I don't know what happened," you spoke softly. You still got no reaction from him, he only watched you intently, so you took it as a sign to continue, "I really want this to go perfectly, and it just... I'm sorry I disappointed you,"

That's when he took your hand, his thumb brushing against your knuckles, then planted his lips on it. "Come here." He patted his lap, gesturing you to sit on his lap.

You obliged. He rubbed his hands on your arms soothingly, comforting almost, as if he can sense the disappointment and frustration you feel for yourself.

"I'm not disappointed," he assured you, "I'm amused, actually,"

You whirled your head, facing him. You were surprised by his confession.

You blinked. "What?"

Now, his lips turned up a little bit. And you start to wonder how botching dinner and failing at doing a basic life skill is amusing as this doctor said.

"Well, I appreciated the gesture, even though it did not end well. You didn't have to do this, but thank you,"

You adjusted yourself on his lap, you put your head on his shoulder, you wrapped your arms around his neck. And he kissed your forehead, cradled your neck, coddling you protectively like you were a baby. Well, his baby.

"I really did want to make this special, you know? With all of what's happening— Barry, the metas— and the whole secret relationship is not helping. It's all happening so fast, and we didn't have time for ourselves," you rambled on.

"I know." His chest heaved. "It's okay. You tried,”

Silence seeped through the room. You felt safe and comfortable in his arms. You ran your thoughts, thinking how far you've come in your secret relationship and how intimate he'd become. He wasn't always like this, the kisses were awkward, so was holding hands. He was weird with affection; he wasn't used to it, exactly. You were like high schoolers dating. That built up a lot of tension, which paid off later.

Only 10 months ago, you were just an intern at S.T.A.R Labs. He's just the guy you worked for, he didn't know you existed, hell, you weren't even on his research team for the particle accelerator. Then Barry got struck by lightning and was in a coma, then he offered to help him, bringing him to S.T.A.R Labs. He was nice, he was assuring— he was there.

Although, you admit that you always had a crush on him, you considered it as merely admiring his works. Then something happened, something sparked between you two, and you realize that you're starting to have feelings for the man.

You pursued him. Man, he was hard to crack. He had a bunch of excuses. First, it was the 28 years age gap between you two; then it was his current condition; then ultimately, his new reputation in the city. It was like he's immune to temptation, but even steel can be bent. Two months of pining after him, he gave in. You may have snapped and confronted him and annoyed him in the process, but he gave in.

"Imagine, 6 months of dating and I never cooked for you," you said randomly.

"It was probably for the best," he quipped.

You both shared a laugh. Although you were a bit flushed. You started fiddling with the hem of your sweater again. As much as you want to stop, because you might ruin it, but it just feels nice when it brushes against the skin of your fingers.

"My mom was great in the kitchen," you began. Memories played on your head— memories of family dinners every night. It's a blur, but you remember how it felt; warm, inviting, happy— whole.

"Really?" You nodded.

"If she was here she'd be wondering how on earth am I her daughter." You chuckled.

"If she's here, she would be very proud of how incredible and smart you are,"

"Yeah?"

Wells exhaled. "Not with what you've done with the steak, but—" you didn't let him finish and swat his chest. He laughed a bit, much to your already abashed self.

"No, I meant it. She would have been very proud. It's a shame she never gets to see the woman you become," he said, as he tuck a strands of hair behind your ear.

You rolled your eyes, but you blushed. You admit, it was nice to hear it. If she can see you right now, you really wish she's proud.

He cupped your chin, lifting it to meet your eyes. "I love you," he said it like the first he said it: stern, yet with such emotions and meaning with it, it makes your heart sink. Only him can do that.

"I love you too," you replied, leaning into him.

You kissed him sweetly and tenderly. Even now, kisses from him make your stomach flips.

Moments like this in your relationship is what makes you all warm and fuzzy inside, it makes your heart flutter. He's a man of logic, of course his words and gestures were often minimal. But when he shows them, it's meaningful and beautiful and just sweet.

You pulled away, grinning ear-to-ear like an idiot.

"Do you want me to order some pizza?"

"I think we should skip dinner and head straight for desserts," you saw the smirk on his face, the glint in his eyes: dark and mischievous.

He leaned closer, slowly, inch by inch, as if torturing you, making your breath hitch. His breath fanned against your lips, his own was hair breadth away from you.

You knew exactly what this is leading to, but it wouldn't hurt to mess with him.

You tilted your head slightly, staring at his thin, pink lips, leading him to believe you're going for it, then pulled away, raising your eyebrows.

"The soufflé?" You inquired, pretending to be clueless. "I can get them if you want,"

You got off his lap, not even fully standing when his hands grabbed your waist and yanked you back down, and you let out a squeal in the process. He wrapped his arms around you locking you in. His hand cupped your cheek, before clashing his lips against yours.

Hungrily, he kissed you. You put your hand on his chest, as your lips moved against his, fighting his dominance, he moved his lips searingly, deepening the kiss that sends chills down your spine. His tongue brushes against your bottom lip, and you open up your lips, allowing him entrance. It was the battle of tongue, which you lost, melting into him.

His hands roamed your back, then your waist, the edge of your curves, alighting a spark in your stomach. Your hands flew to his neck, clutching it.

You broke the kiss to catch your breath. Your heavy breath was seemingly dramatic compared to his. He didn't even break a sweat. You giggled, your head felt light and the room was spinning around, heart was racing. Damn. He's such a good kisser.

You shifted, straddling his lap, you put arms around your neck, reeling him back into the heated kiss. Your hips flicked, groans spilled from your lips. His lips moved to the nape of your neck, vigorously sucking on your sweet spot right there. You tried to suppress the moan in your throat, as his lips lowered down, nipping the skin of your collarbone. The last time you screamed, the neighbor slammed on the wall, complaining. Not having that again.

The need for him builds up in the pit of your stomach minute by minute, rocking your hips faster and faster against him, your own wetness growing. He untied the knot of your apron. He took it off your neck, throwing it to the side, before grabbing your face and capturing his lips again, not getting enough of it.

You took his jacket off of him, without breaking your lips, then your dainty fingers started unbuttoning his shirt skillfully. It was clearly unfair, so he started getting rid of your blouse as well. You discarded each other's top, until you were down to your bra, which he unclasped later on.

You gasped, as you felt your breasts were finally freed. The chilly air inside made your nipples harden. He admired your perky breasts, appreciatively, planting a kiss in between, you hummed involuntarily. His lips trailed closer and closer, he swirled his tongue around the nub teasingly and torturously. A hum wouldn't do anymore, you moaned in pleasure. Then suddenly, he ravished your nipples in his mouth, sucking on the nub, like fingers toyed with the other one.

Your fingers ran across the naked chest, to the taut of his shoulder, before delving in the bed of his locks, gripping them tightly, as he continued on, moving to the breast to give the same attention. He pinched it, bit it; he drove you wild with what he's doing with your nipples.

It's like someone started a fire in your bones; you're all hot and bothered.

He stopped kissing them, which made you whine for the loss of attention. He tugged your short, basically saying you needed to take them off, and you did, leaving you with only your panties on you.

His lustful eyes raked your naked body, as you stood before him, breathless. Your heart pounded in your ears, adrenaline rushing through your veins in excitement. You felt the ache between your legs, slowly feeling your panties dampening. God, you really need him.

He ran his hands on hips, trailing hot, open-mouth, wet kisses down your stomach, it made you bite your lip.

"Stunning. Just stunning," he whispered softly against your warm skin.

You blushed lightly at his comment. He liked making you blush. You realized that pattern back when Barry was in a coma. You'd stay and help out, he would just compliment you for whatever you tackled that day.

You let out a gasp, when he gripped your hips, lifting you off the floor, and placed you on top of the kitchen counter. You didn't expect such force from him. His fingers slipped through the bands of your panties, tugging them down antagonizing slowly. Such a tease.

He lowered his head in between your legs, as he spread them opening. His lips curved at the sight of your wetness, he took your leg and put over his shoulder, and began sucking on the soft skin of your leg, trailing up to your inner thigh. You felt his warm breath ghosting your inner thigh, kissing it, as his lips moved up and up to your womanhood, his fingers lightly trailed against it.

"Harry, please," you cried, screwing your eyes shut and bit your lips harshly.

Hearing your plea, he slowly licked a stripe, then closed his mouth over the sensitive bundle of nerves. Your mouth hung open and you arched your back. Pleased with his work, he hummed, sending vibrations through your body.

"Oh, don't stop," you whined.

"Oh darling, I don't intend to," he said huskily, it ran shivers down your spine.

His tongue thrusted in and out of you, swirling around your clit, driving you to sweet ecstasy. You clampled the edge of the counter and mewled loudly, your hips locked up at the sensation.

Abruptly, a ring cut through the moment. Wells stopped, but upon realizing that it wasn't his phone, he carried on. Breathless, you pat the counter behind you, looking for your phone. Once you took a hold of it, you were going to reject it, seeing the caller ID, you turned to Wells.

"It's Cisco," you informed him.

You thought he didn't just hear you, distracted, so you told him again.

"Answer it,"

Your lips parted, "Wha—"

"Answer it," he repeated nonchalantly.

You can't believe that he's risking being caught. For someone who would scold you to keep your hands to yourself when you're out, this is surprising.

Extremely bewildered and aroused, and worried that something might have happened to Barry, you didn't argue and clicked to answer.

"Hey Cisco," you tried to steady your voice, but it wavered at the end, when he sucked your clit with vigor.

"Hey Y/N. You busy?"

Yup.

"Not so much. What's up?" you reply, panting.

Your breath stopped in your throat, you weren't able to register the next sentence Cisco said, when you felt Wells inserted a finger inside of you. His finger went in out of you, before adding another finger in. He scissored his digits inside, pumping in and out, looking for the sweet spot, while his thumb rubbed your clit roughly. If he keeps doing this you're not going to last.

You looked at him, mouth hung open. He gave a smug smirk, and licked your clit.

"Y/N? Can you hear me?" You almost forgot he was there.

Your arm fling to your face. Your teeth dug on your arm, squirming quietly, unable to handle the pleasure.

"Y/N!" Cisco yelled in your ears.

There's something arousing and bothering with this; the idea of getting caught while doing it, it's thrilling. But it's weird and you have embarrassed yourself enough.

"I'll call you back!" You gasped, pressing the button and basically threw your phone behind you.

Your hips quivered, locking him up in between. You felt the orgasm bubbling inside of you. You were so close.

"Harry, I need to—"

"No, not yet," he cut you off, his tone authoritative.

You whimpered in return, in need for release. He patted your thigh, gesturing you get off the counter. You hesitated, for you actually thought you would crumble if you got on your feet.

"Come on." His fingers flicked in gesture.

You know you can't sit on the counter forever; you haven't even cleaned it. You have to get off eventually, and slowly you planted your feet on the hardwood floor. You wobbled for a bit, but you grabbed onto him for support.

Your eyes met his dark ones. His hands reached for his belt, unbuckling it and threw it to the side. His pants and underwear followed suit, pooling at his feet. Your eyes wandered to his hardened member and you watched as he stroked it.

"Turn around," he ordered.

That ran chills through your body. You did what you were told. He guided your hands towards the counter, and placed it there. He held your waist, slowly bringing you down on his lap. Anxious to get him inside of you, you tried to sink down, he held you in place, growling at your impatience. He has a thing for taking time slow and being dominant, which you really didn't mind, but with high nearing, you were eager.

He lined himself up in your entrance, you even felt the tip of his length teasing you.

“Stop teasing,” you half-moaned and groaned.

"Say please,"

"Please, Harrison— I can't take it anymore. I need you," you cried.

“More,” he demanded.

“Please, I need you inside me. Please, babe. Please, I can't take it anymore,”

You felt him slowly entering inside. You let out shaky breath and you heard a raspy grunt from him. He stretched your walls, pain was present. You winced. It has been weeks since you’ve been this intimate, you almost forgot how it felt like.

“You okay?”

You nodded, biting your lips.

“Use your words,”

“Yes,” you panted.

He gave you a few moments to get accustomed to his member, before lifting you up to test the waters, starting a slow and gentle pace. You moaned loudly. It felt so good, he filled you up so good. Damn, you missed this. You clenched your walls, a guttural groan escaped his lips. His hand finds it's way to your breast, fondling with it.

“Harry, faster!”

He started picking up the pace, and finding the rhythm that suited him. He thrusted faster and harder, rocking your hips against his, hitting all the good spots, your toes curled in the process. You clamped the counter, knuckles turning white. You held on for dear life, as he took you from behind.

You couldn't keep the voices down anymore, and you couldn't care less about the neighbors anymore— grunts, moans, screams and pleads filled the room. You were a whimpering mess, crying his name and begging for more.

The overwhelming intensity of the pleasure washes over you. You were close, so, so close. You need to come.

“Harrison, please,” you begged weakly.

“Please what?” His voice is deep and raspy.

“Please, let me come,” you whimpered.

“Then come,”

He thrusted in you deeper. Tears pricking the corner of your eyes, desperate for your high. Then you felt it. Your clit pulses and walls clenched again. Eyes are closed, you arched your back and screamed. You screamed, as you came undone.

You thought he would stop, but he didn't. Instead, he gripped your hips tighter, pretty sure that's going to leave an imprint behind. He slammed your hips down on him, thrusting deeply and roughly.

He took you from behind with, until he met his high he felt his own pleasure washing over him. You felt spurts of warm liquid inside of you. Thank God for your pills or else Joe would kill you. Being an adult doesn't make being pregnant less scarier. Especially if your adoptive father is a cop, and your brother is a superhero.

His pace started getting sloppy and slow. You lean back to him, your back meets the skin of his chest, warm and sticky with sweat. Your bodies glistened with sweat.

Short breaths escaped from your parted lips. He trailed sloppy kisses on your shoulder, wrapped his arms around your waist, still not pulling out of you.

You were so dizzy, exhausted, overwhelmed and just happy. You truly missed being with just him and right now, you couldn't be more content in his arms.

"Round 2?” You challenged, panting with a grin plastered on your face.

He didn't reply, but you saw the corner of his lips tugged up. Next thing you know, the wheelchair was moving, heading to the direction of your bedroom.

Part II

[a-weeb-named-emi]

Chapter One: “Never Forget”

I’ve never really been able to deal with crowds. Ever since I was little, I’ve always tried to avoid the spotlight, and I almost left my future in the palm of that fear. My parents both worked quite a bit, but my father ended up leaving us for another woman at the ripe old age of 4. My 7th birthday was spent at the hospital, my mother hadn’t been taking the divorce well as expected. “Pro Hero Redirect splits with wife, Pro Hero Nova” had been all over the news for a few months. I never knew how much my mother was hurting, she always hid the pain until that day. I came home from school as usual, my small fingers gripping my backpack over my shoulder. My memory of finding her splayed out in the bathroom is quite clear. Her head was over the toilet, empty bottles of alcohol and pills lining her shaking body. It felt like a scene out of a movie; my chest rose and fell slowly trying to take in what was happening. She was pale, sickly looking. Had she looked this sick when I left? I couldn’t think straight. She kept gurgling out a few words before sliding her cellphone over to me. 

“I’m sorry (Y/N), call for help.” 

Shaky fingers dialed the number, and an equally shaky voice explained the situation to the operator. Within minutes men came barging into the house to help, one ushering me along with them. Camera clicks and yelling sent the neighborhood into an uproar. I was used to the paparazzi following us around since the news broke of my parents splitting; seeing the flashing photos in a frenzy as the paramedics wheeled my mother into the ambulance left quite the impact. I was already in distress, my child mind not fully registering the severity of my mothers condition. It gets fuzzy during the ride to the hospital, but I can distinctly remember the paramedics whispering about “a hero’s downfall”. Everything gets extremely clear the moment we exit the ambulance, more flashes and shouts about my mother start filling my senses. I felt like we were being attacked. Energy rushed through my small form, making my hands hot it felt like hot coals were pressed in my palms. Up until then, I hadn’t experienced having a quirk before... A terrible moment to get it now. 

My eyes screwed shut, and I could feel my heart rate climbing. Small whimpers came from my lips as the burning sensation got worse; then all at once, all the flashing stopped. I opened my eyes finally, noticing the green glow coming from around my body. Just as I let out shaky breath the nurses took me inside and tried to calm me down. News of my mothers condition fell on deaf ears, none of it registering in my 6 year old mind. I didn’t know what any of it meant. Coma? Overdose?  I didn’t understand. I did however, understand that she wouldn’t be coming home with me anytime soon. A few days of sleeping at the hospital left me feeling alone. My mother looked beautiful as she was sleeping peacefully in her hospital bed, the dull beep of monitors lulling the room into a calm. The third day I was there just so happened to be my birthday, and the day my life changed... Because I had to live with the man that didn’t want me in the first place, my father.

I was shipped to his new home in Musutafu. He sent a car to pick me up from the hospital, my guess is due to the high volume of press. I remember sitting dead silent in the backseat, watching the buildings grow bigger and bigger the farther into the city we went. I had never seen so many windows on a building before. The driver had tried his best to keep me comfortable by playing some soft music, but my ears were still ringing from the yelling of the paparazzi and couldn’t really hear it. We drove for a short while longer before pulling into a neighborhood one can only describe as “the rich side of town”. My old home was in a nice place as well, but it wasn’t anything like this place. Houses that looked like museums lined either side of the road, beautifully colored flowers and shrubbery decorating the entrances at every home. I thought back to my mother, sleeping in her hospital bed...my chest felt tight. We finally pulled into a driveway after what felt like forever. The front of the house looked immaculate, white pillars decorating the front. It was beautiful, but the man standing in the driveway with his arm looped around a woman I only knew as “homewrecker” was not.

“Please follow me miss, your father is waiting.” The driver finally spoke, exiting the car and running around to my side. 

The door opened and light spilled in, illuminating the dress I was wearing. A gift from my mother for my birthday, and the only thing I had brought with me. I scooted myself out of the car, gravel crunching under my feet as I followed the driver towards my father. The man bowed and retreated to the car as he presented me.

“Miss (Y/N) has arrived safely Master.” He reported.

I watched as the woman draped over my father untangled herself from him and bent down to my level. Up close, she was a true beauty. Eyes as black as the night sky without stars, skin a beautiful shade of caramel. Her hair was short and a dark brown, but she had a small streak of blonde in the front. I stared at the woman as she smiled at me. Her eyes scanned over my form as mine did hers. 

“Hi there sweetie, my name is Maya.” She held out her hand for me to shake, but I only had negative connotations about this woman; I just stared at it.

“Darling, be a good girl and shake Maya’s hand. Didn’t your mother teach you respect?” My fathers voice came off gruff. I tilted my head to the side and gave him a confused look, locking eyes with him. 

“Momma taught me to give respect when it’s been earned.” I replied softly.

He didn’t like that too much, Maya seemed hurt by it as well. She retreated to my fathers side as the two of them led me inside the massive place I would call home now. The soft click-clack of Maya’s heals against the marbled floor filled my ears. 

“This way to your new room, it’s been stocked with clothing and school supplies. Your uniform is hanging in the closet. I expect you to get settled in by tonight.” He grunted slightly as I stared at him with emotionless eyes. “Dinner is at 8, I’ll have a servant come to collect you when the time comes.” 

“Am I aloud to explore?” I asked, running my fingers along the bed.

“Do as you wish, but don’t go into my study. it’s the door with my name on it.” I nodded in response, hopping on to the bed. He began closing the door behind him, but stopped briefly.

“I know this isn’t the ideal situation, but you are my daughter and I expect nothing but greatness from you. I hope you learn to move on from your mother and follow in my footsteps.” His words stung my ears.

“I’ll never forget momma, she’s my hero.” My voice came out a little more angry than I meant, but he didn’t seem to care. He didn’t respond, instead closing the door behind him as he left. 

“I’ll never forget her, not ever.”

—————————

/// AN: I have no clue how long to make these. I don’t wanna make them drag on but I also know that a lot of people get into it and hate for it to end too soon. Ahhh what should I do? Any thoughts?

@crackhead1-800

As requested lol

[blakeyxholland]

He’s Dead | S.M

Word Count: 1.4K

Every scent, every sound, every place. It all reminded you of him. It all reminded you of what you and Shawn used to have. Whenever a song of his came on the radio, sadness filled you. Whenever you laid in bed, the empty space reminded you of him. The darkness that surrounded you reminded you of him and your late-night conversations. The smell of hot chocolate reminded you of when you’d spend nights curled up on the sofa, blankets surrounding you as you watched Netflix.

It has been 6 months since it ended, since you lost it all. You wished you weren’t alone in your once shared apartment. You wished you weren’t putting on a fake face for the paparazzi or your Instagram followers. All the fans were devastated, they thought your relationship was fine and that you were happy, yet you couldn't find happiness. There were so many loving messages, yet you still felt empty.

*FLASHBACK*

“Wow Shawn, that’s real classy, kissing another girl in front of your ex-girlfriend.” You raised your voice at the innocent looking man who stood across from you. His wavy brunette hair and his dark brown eyes that you once knew and loved seemed foreign. The strong smell of another girl’s perfume radiated from his body that was clad in smart clothes.

“Ex? Y/N, you’re still my girlfriend.” He spoke, fear evident in his voice. He loved you with his whole entire heart and he couldn’t deal with the idea of losing you.

“No Shawn, you can’t mess with me like that and still expect me to stick around. You did it once before and I accepted that as an accident but a second time? Get your act together Mendes.”

“But babe, it was an accident. She came onto me, you know that she did.” He pleaded with you, praying that you would forgive him.

“No Shawn. I think you need to leave.” You lowered your voice, looking at the ground as to not make it any harder for yourself.

“But I c-“ He started to speak but you cut him off.

“Leave, NOW!” You shouted the last part.

You watched his body pass yours as he walked towards the front door. He turned around to look at you before closing the door behind him. That was not the Shawn you had started to love. That Shawn was dead and replaced by this new, famous Shawn who went around kissing other girls and you didn’t want that in your life.

*END OF FLASHBACK*

Today would be your 3-year anniversary. So, to cheer you up, your best friends decided to take you to a concert. They came over to your flat to get ready to go and see The Vamps (Change this if you want) perform. You felt lonely still, knowing today you would be spending it with Shawn had he not messed things up.

You all arrived at the concert and collected your backstage passes, you guessed that was a bonus of having a lot of followers on Instagram. When you found your area, you all sat down and got ready for the opening act. The stage lit up, a very familiar face appeared on the huge screens. Shawn Mendes. You felt tears prickling in your eyes. You thought you were here to have a good time without thinking about him but no.

"This," a voice familiar sounded in the arena yet he was nowhere to be seen. "is a song I wrote for a very special girl in my life.". Tears pricked in your eyes as your hands started to shake and vision went blurry. Videos and images flashed up of your ex-boyfriend on the screen.

"This song is for the girl sat in seat 8 row D." That's when you realised it was you, the confusion on your face must have been clear. "Yes Y/N, that's you.”

“I think it’s time that I be honest, should’ve told you not to go. Thought I knew just what I wanted. I didn’t know myself at all.” The song started playing, silencing the arena due to it being a new song and being an emotional moment.

Pictures of you and Shawn flashed up on the screens followed by videos of one or the other of you doing something stupid or cute. Occasionally, the audience would erupt into “awes” at the cute photos of you and Shawn being happy together. Your cheeks were now wet and salty from the tears that had uncontrollable started streaming from your eyes.

The song familiar singing voice stopped and there were a few seconds of silence before it spoke again. "You'll always be mine"

You missed taking photos for your snapchat. You missed having him singing snippets of his new songs to you. You missed his strong arms holding you when you felt as if your world was falling apart. You missed stroking his hair when he felt the same.

The rest of the concert was amazing, but you couldn’t get the images out of your mind. Nor could you remove the curiosity as to why Shawn wasn’t on stage.

After the concert you went backstage and met up with the boys. You knew them quite well through a friend who was touring with them, so it was a chilled conversation for a while. They ordered a few pizzas which you all shared and had a conversation.

“Y/N, could I talk to you alone for a second?” Brad asked as he got up onto his feet and you nodded.

He held the door to the dressing room open for you to walk out of the room. He took you through some winding corridors and eventually you reached some stairs.

“Brad, you better not be murdering me. I have a family. People will search for me!” You joked as Brad looked at you with a serious expression. “What’s the matter?”

"Y/N, Shawn wrote that song for you 2 months ago." Brad spoke, swallowing loudly.

“Okay…” You urged him to continue.

“Well, last month, Shawn got into a bad car accident.” Brad’s voice was shaking as he broke the news to you. You felt all the blood rush from your body. Your heart started beating fast, your vision cloudy from the tears that started to rise.

“He’s dead?” You asked, tears ready to roll down your cheeks. You had not signed up for this kind of emotional trauma today.

“No, God no! He was in a coma for two weeks and he’s still recovering but he’s okay. He’s actually here. Did you want to see him?” Relief flushed over you but was then replaced by fear. Did you want to see Shawn? Were you ready?

“Uhhhhh, okay.” You agreed with a smile. As he grabbed your hand and pulled you towards a small room.

“He’s in there. I’ll be back in our dressing room. If anything happens, I’m ready to kick his broken ass.” Brad smiled as he pulled you into a hug.

You pulled the door to the dressing room open to reveal a boy who was sat there, scrolling through his phone. His leg was in a cast and rested on a small black chair in front of him. You hated seeing him hurt.

“Shawn?” You asked as his head whipped around.

“Y/N oh my God!” Shawn turned to you and attempted to get up.

“Stay right where you are Mendes. Don’t move with that broke leg of yours.” You replied, trying to take care of him.

“I’ve missed you so much. Happy what would be three years baby!” He smiled.

“You remembered?” You gasped, remembering all of the feelings that you used to possess and still did.

“Of course I did, I loved you. Love you so much Y/N. I am so annoyed with what happened, and I know you can’t forgive me straight away but I can make it up to you Y/N, I promise.” He rambled.

“Shawn Peter Raul Mendes, I still love you and I am willing to give you a second chance, but this is your second and last chance. I swear if you mess with me again, that’s it.”

“I missed you Y/N baby!” He smiled as you placed yourself on his lap, placing a small kiss on his lips.

“Last chance.” You spoke in a warning tone before he smiled and wrapped his arms around your waist.

“YES, THEY’RE BACK!” Your best friends burst through the door screaming together. You smiled at the crazy people and hugged closer into Shawn.

IM BACK AND I’VE GOT A NEW USERNAME. I took a long break from writing but I am back now and apparently Tumblr has decided that links in these will mean they don’t show up? 

My requests are open and my prompts list and fandoms list can be found on my profile.

[you-a-southpaw-doll]

Another One Bites The Dust (AOBTD) ~ Chapter 18

Warning(s): FLUFF!!! Language. Angst. Pregnancy. Mentions of miscarriage. Soft side to Negan shows.

Taglist: @negans-network , @thamberlina , @prettyboynegan , @mychemicalimagines

Previous Chapters: One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten. Eleven. Twelve. Thirteen. Fourteen. Fifteen. Sixteen. Seventeen. 

Chapter 18 ~ In Case You Didn’t Know

I smile as soon as I walk into my bedroom. Tim’s finally up and moving ‘round. He still has some trouble walking long distances, but he’s gotten better in the three weeks since he woke up from the coma he was in. Jeffrey’s got one arm wrapped ‘round Tim’s waist as the two walk ‘round. 

Jeffrey helps him turn ‘round so they can face me. Their faces both light up once they see me.

“Hey, sweetheart.” Tim says.

“Hey, doll.” Jeffrey says, grinning.

“Hi, boys.” I say.

They both chuckle.

“In case you didn’t know, doll, we’re not exactly boys. We’re men.” Jeffrey teases.

I laugh. “I’m well aware of the fact that you’re both men. But, you’re still my boys.”

This has both of ‘em blushing, and grinning from ear-to-ear. Jeffrey helps Tim walk over to the bed, where they both settle down. I sit in front ‘em, crossing my legs under me. I reach one hand out to each of ‘em. They both willingly lace their fingers with mine. 

They both stare at our hands.

“You know we’re men, don’t you?” Tim asks, teasingly.

I giggle. “Of course I know. Besides…I have somethin’ to tell y’all that further solidifies that you’re both men.”

This has their attention. They both look up at me, curious as to what I’m ‘bout to say, but they also look worried.

“You’re ok, right, doll?” Jeffrey asks.

I grin and nod. “I’m actually better than ok.”

He cocks an eyebrow. “Yeah?”

“Yeah!”

Tim chuckles. “That’s good. You wanna let us in on what’s got you so good, baby?”

I bite my lip and glance down. “I’m pregnant.”

I hear Jeffrey cough and Tim suck in a deep breath. I look up at ‘em. They both look really happy, but also shocked.

“You wanna say that again, sweetie?” Jeffrey asks, quietly. “I’m not quite sure I heard you right.”

I giggle. “You heard just fuckin’ fine and you know it.”

He smirks. “Maybe so. But, I wanna hear you say it again.”

“Me too.” Tim agrees.

“I said, ‘I’m pregnant’.” I repeat.

They both grin from ear-to-ear, their eyes lighting up.

“So…we’re gonna be actual dads?” Tim asks.

I grin and nod. “Yep! Now don’t ask me which one of you two knocked me up, ‘cause I don’t know.”

Jeffrey laughs and reaches forward to place a hand on my tummy. Tim does the same. Their fingers overlap each other’s.

“That doesn’t matter, doll. That’s still our kid. It doesn’t matter which one of us knocked you up. We’re both still gonna take care of you and the baby.” Jeffrey says.

I smile. “I know. That’s why I love you both.”

“We fuckin’ love you too, baby. Ain’t that right, hubby?”

Tim chuckles. “Fuck yeah it’s right.”

I giggle. “Goofballs.”

“Your goofballs.”

I smile and nod. Jeffrey looks up at me.

“When’d you find out?” He asks.

“This mornin’. I stopped by to see Doc to get some more pain meds for Tim, and he noticed somethin’ was off with me. Then, I got sick in his office. He asked me when my last cycle was, and after I told him, he had me take a pregnancy test to double check. When it came back positive, he knew there wasn’t anythin’ else wrong with me. I came straight here to tell y’all.” I say.

My boys both smile, letting their dimples show. I lean forward and kiss ‘em both on the forehead.

“Have you told Alyss or Negan yet?” Jeffrey asks.

I shake my head. “I wanted y’all to be the first people I told. You know, seeing as this is y’all’s child too.”

Tim chuckles. “You’re right ‘bout that. When do you wanna tell the rest of the family?”

I shrug. “Maybe later tonight.”

They both nod, giving me the all clear that they’re ok with me telling Negan and Alyss the good news later.

“How far along do you think you are, doll?” Jeffrey asks.

“Doc guessed ‘round two and a half to three months. It’s kinda hard to know for sure these days.” I say.

“That makes sense. I guess we’ll need to start lookin’ for baby items when we go out on runs.”

I nod. “I was thinkin’ ‘bout that.”

Tim looks at Jeffrey and whispers something to him quietly. Jeffrey takes a deep breath in and replies just as quietly. I wish I knew what they were talkin’ ‘bout. There’s a set of three heavy knocks on our bedroom door.

“C’mon in.” I call out.

The door opens. My best friend and my brother-in-law walk in. Alyss grins as soon as she sees me and rushes over to hug me. Negan chuckles and sits down beside his brother and brother-in-law. I hug Alyss back before she settles down next to me. 

She glances down at the hands on my belly and looks up at me, questioningly.

“You ok, kid?” She asks.

I nod. “Fuck yeah!”

She laughs. I always say “Fuck Yeah!” in response to her questions that warrant an answer like that. It’s an inside joke between us that we’ve had since before the apocalypse started. One of our favorite magicians, who was known for being silent, once said it and it stuck with us.

“You boys just can’t seem to keep your hands off your wife, can y’all?” Negan teases.

Tim and Jeffrey both laugh before pulling their hands away from my tummy. I miss the warmth as soon as they do. They both look at me, grinning. Negan looks between them and I.

“Alright. What the fuck am I missing here?” He asks.

Jeffrey chuckles. “How do you feel ‘bout bein’ an Uncle?”

Negan’s brow furrows. “I’m already an Uncle. To Angel.”

I giggle. “Well, yea…but how ‘bout to another kid?”

“What are you getting’ at, Half Pint? Are you sayin’ what I think you’re sayin’?”

I smirk. “What do you think I’m sayin’, Tank?”

“You got a little munchkin on the way?”

I laugh. “Fuck yeah!”

Negan’s face switches from confusion to pure happiness. He starts to say somethin’ but he can’t get the words out. He just stops sputtering and grins. Alyss lets out a happy noise from beside me. Next thing I know, she’s got her arms ‘round me and is hugging me tightly. 

She lays her head on my shoulder.

“This mean I get to be an Aunt?” She asks, excitedly.

I place both my hands on her forearm, giggling. I rest my head against hers.

“Yes, bud. You get to be an Aunt.” I reply, smiling.

She hugs me tighter. “I’m so excited. This is gonna be fun.”

I nod. It really is. I look at the boys. They’re all grinning from ear-to-ear.

“I’m gonna be an Uncle!” Negan says, chuckling. “There’s gonna be a new Savior in the makin’!”

I groan. “My kid is not going to be a Savior, Tank.”

“Why not? He’d be the best Savior ever. I just know it.”

“We don’t even know if we’re havin’ a boy or girl. But, regardless, I don’t want to think ‘bout my child goin’ out on runs, fightin’ dead’uns, and potentially gettin’ hurt.”

Negan’s face softens. “Ok. I can understand that. Who knows…maybe by the time the little squirt’s grown up, things’ll be back to the way they were before, and there won’t be any dead’uns roamin’ ‘round.”

“That’d be a miracle. Who knows?”

“I can’t believe you’re gonna have a kid, Leigh!” Alyss says, dragging my attention to her.

I giggle. “I know. It’s gonna be great.”

She nods her head against my shoulder. “Damn straight it is.”

“Any idea whose youngin it is?” Negan asks, jokingly.

“Mine!” Both of my boys say at the same time.

Negan, Alyss, and I all laugh. Negan looks at my husbands.

“Last I checked…it only takes one man to get a woman pregnant.” He teases.

“Nah fuckin’ dip, Sherlock.” Jeffrey retorts. “As far as Tim and I are concerned, it doesn’t matter which one of us got Leigh pregnant. That kid is both of ours. We’ll both be its fathers.”

I smile. I know we’d always talked ‘bout settling down, getting married, and having kids, but that was before the world ended. Plus, we never had the chance to discuss what we’d actually do if we had kids. At least…as far which one would want to be the father or how we’d handle it. 

It makes my heart swell with love to know that my husbands are both so accepting of the fact that I’m pregnant. And, that it doesn’t really matter to either of ‘em when it comes to which one of ‘em knocked me up.

“Leigh?”

I look up at Negan. “Hmmm?”

He chuckles. “I was just askin’ if I could um … shit … you know … um …”

“Just spit it out, Tank.” I tease.

He blushes slightly. “Can I touch your belly?”

He sounds so nervous to ask me that. I smile and nod. His face lights up as he slowly reaches a hand out to touch my tummy. His hand pretty much covers my entire lower stomach. Negan bites his lip, as he gets lost in his thoughts. A look of sadness fills his eyes. 

I know that look. It’s one of loss. I gently place my hand over his. He looks up at me with tear-filled eyes.

“This kid’s gonna be loved every single day.” He mumbles, his voice cracking slightly. “They’re gonna be ok.”

“Of course they are. They have two lovin’ fathers, a lovin’ mum, a lovin’ uncle, and a lovin’ aunt.” I reply, softly.

He nods. He suddenly turns his head, but not before I catch a tear rolling down his cheek. He gets up and excuses himself from the room. I look at my husbands, who both look confused.

“I’ll be right back.” I say.

They nod and Alyss shifts, leaning off me. I get up and head after Negan. I find him in his room. He’s curled up in the corner, holding Lucille softly, along with something else. I make my way over to him and sit down beside him. I lay my head on his shoulder, just being there for him as he cries. 

I realize that the something in his hand is a worn-out photograph. Looking at it, I realize it’s an ultrasound. My heart breaks as I realize what this means. I wrap my arms ‘round my very broken hearted brother-in-law. His sobs get louder as I hold onto him.

I don’t say a word, but just comfort him as he mourns the loss of his unborn child. I know the kid was unborn ‘cause Negan has the ultrasound picture. If the kid had been born, then Negan would most likely have an actual photo.

“He’d be three now.” He mumbles. “We had everything picked out. Colors. A name. Clothes. Furniture. Everything. I even picked up this bat for him the day we found out we were havin’ a boy.”

He runs his fingers up and down the handle of Lucille. The meaning of how much the barbed wire baseball bat means to him hits me like a freight train. It’s not just some bat with a name. The bat’s named after his late wife who meant the world to him, and whom he misses dearly every single day. 

It represents the life he could’ve had with his son. It’s all he has left of his own family from before, aside from Jeffrey. I tighten my arms ‘round him, but don’t say anything.

He continues talking, quietly. “We lost him in an accident. I was late comin’ home from the school one day. Lucy…she’d tried callin’ me, but I didn’t answer ‘cause I was busy. I should’ve answered that damn phone call. I figured I’d just surprise her when I got home. I got to the house right as my phone started ringing. I didn’t recognize the number, but I just had this feeling that I had to answer it.

He pauses. “It was the hospital, calling me since I was listed as Lucille’s emergency contact, and she was mine. They told me she was there and asked me to come immediately. I turned the car ‘round and sped to the hospital. I don’t think I’ve ever driven that fast. By the time I’d gotten there, my baby boy…he was already gone. I didn’t even get the chance to hold him in my arms.

His voice cracks. “Apparently Lucy had fallen, gettin’ outta the shower. The force from the fall killed him. We found out two weeks later, just after we’d buried our son, that Lucille had cancer and was only given nine months to live. In less than a year, I lost my son, my wife, and the fuckin’ world ended.”

My heart breaks. He lost everything that mattered to him. He lifts the photo up so I can see it better.

“He had my nose and her eyes. I know you can’t really tell from this photo, but I’m tellin’ you, Half Pint, he did. He was gonna be so fuckin’ cute. I just knew it.” He says, proudly.

I lift my head to look at him. He glances down at me. The tears have stopped, but his cheeks are still wet. I cup his cheek.

“I’m so sorry, Negan. I can’t even imagine the pain you felt, still feel even, from losing ‘em both. I know you’d have made a damn good father.” I assure him.

He sniffles and nods. “I’ve always wanted to be a dad. I was so fuckin’ excited when we found out that we were gonna have a kid.”

“I kinda figured based on your reaction when you found out I was pregnant. If you got that excited ‘bout bein’ an uncle, I can only imagine how happy you’d be if you found out you were gonna be a dad.”

He gives me a small smile. “I miss ‘em both. ‘Specially my little boy that I never got to meet. Is that fucked up? I miss a baby I never got to see, never got to hold. I loved him more than anything, but I never got to meet him.”

I shake my head. “Honey – ah ah. Don’t look at me like that. You’re family, which means you’re subjected to a few sweet terms of endearment. And you know that I mean it in a platonic, family way. Not the way in which I refer to my husbands when I call ‘em ‘honey’.”

Negan chuckles. “Yes, ma’am. Continue.”

“Thank you. Now, as I was saying, honey, it’s not fucked up to miss your unborn child. It’s not fucked up to love him. Even though you never got to see him, hold him, or meet him, he was still your child. I love my unborn child that I just found out ‘bout this mornin’. Once you find out that you’re gonna be a parent, it’s like there’s this part of you that just fills with love for this little human being. It’s like your heart gets filled with something that you didn’t realize you were missing. You know?”

He nods. “I do know. When Lucille told me that she was pregnant, I felt like I’d finally done something right in my life. Like everything was gonna be alright. Like, my life was complete. I had something to look forward to every day. Somethin’ that made me want to keep on living. To be a better person, husband, and hopefully father.”

“Exactly. It’s just part of being a parent. And, quite frankly if it’s fucked up to love and miss your unborn child, then I’m perfectly ok with being fucked up.”

He lets out a quiet laugh. “Me too, Half Pint. Me too.”

I shift so that I can hug my brother-in-law better. He gently sets Lucille and the ultrasound photo down on the ground beside him before wrapping his arms ‘round me.

“Thank you, Leigh. This means a lot to me. I’m sorry if I put a damper on your announcement.” He apologizes.

I shake my head and tighten my arms ‘round him. “Non-fuckin’-sense, Negan. You don’t have to apologize, ok? ‘Cause you didn’t do a damned thing wrong. You were hit with the sudden emotions of mournin’ your son and wife. I get it. Or at least, I can kinda understand it since I’ve never gone through that myself. There’s no need to apologize. ‘Sides, the boys kinda already celebrated the announcement before you walked in. So, you don’t have to apologize. Ok?”

He nods. “Yes, ma’am.”

“As for you thankin’ me, brother, you don’t have to. You’re my family. You might be a stubborn, brutal asshole at times, but when it’s just you and me, or you, me, the boys, or you, me, and Alyss hangin’ out, you’re a total sweetheart. You’re human. You’re allowed to feel emotions, and everyone deserves someone that they can turn to and trust. I’m just glad that I can be that person for you.”

“Me too. I’m glad my brother met you. You’re too sweet, even when you have to beat someone to death, you still have your reasons, and you’re respectable. Plus, now that you’re married to my brother, that means you’re my sister-in-law, and I’m grateful for that.”

He tightens his arms ‘round me.

“I love you like the older brother I never had.” I tell him.

He chuckles. “And I love you like the little sister I never had.”

I smile. “What do you say we head back to the rest of the family? I think Angel should be getting back from her class here soon.”

“Angel! I gotta go see my sweet little niece!”

I chuckle and pull away from Negan. He stands up before reaching down to pick up the photo and Lucille. He walks over to his desk, tucking the photo away, and placing Lucille in the chair by his desk. I stand up and make my way to the door once I know Negan’s ready to follow me.

[beginwith-u]

Let go.

“Life is almost overwhelmingly beautiful but that it is also tragically short.“

Pairing: Park Jimin x Y/N

Genre: Angst (Mentions of death)

A/N: This is my first attempt in writing fanfiction. I got inspired to write when I first listened to let go by bts. I know its crappy and the there’s a lot of plot holes and stuff but please be good to me. I tried my best. Thank you.

Word Count: 2,855  words

“Jimin, Wake up! It’s spring! Look outside!” You jumped beside his bed as you shake him to wake up. Jimin groaned at your actions, wanting to sleep more. “Jesus, Y/N let me sleep more.” He rolled over and cover his face with his blanket. You stood up and walked over at the end of his bed to pull the blanket off. That will wake him up. You thought as you cross your arms and watch him bolt upwards ready to attack you. Realizing this, you immediately ran outside, screaming for help to the other boys. You are in the boy’s dorm early in the morning to ask Jimin to see the newly sprung cherry blossoms in the area with you. Cherry Blossoms was always your favorite flower. It reminds you that life is almost overwhelmingly beautiful but is also tragically short. Jin was going in the dining room to eat some breakfast when you suddenly grab him to use him as a shield to Jimin. “Guys, what are you doing?” Jin said irritably at the two of you. He’s not having any of this early in the morning so he grab you and basically give you to Jimin. “You two should stop doing this lovey dovey running in the morning.” You realized that Jimin is holding you to closely that made jumped out of his grasp, making him startled. Your cheeks got hot and followed Jin in the dining room not knowing what to do. Jimin followed behind you, thinking he should also get some breakfast as well.

The two of them started eating while you sat beside Jin quietly. “Are you not going to eat, Y/N?” Jin asked as he munch his toast bread. “I already ate before coming here.” You flashed a smile to the both of them whilst they eat. “What are you even doing here?” Jimin asked, irritatingly. That doesn’t bother you though as you know he’s like that because you disturbed his sleep. “Let’s see the Cherry Blossoms together!” you replied excitedly. “That’s a romantic date.” Namjoon blurted out as he make his way next to Jimin to eat. “Good morning to you too, Joon. It’s not a date, okay?” You said as a matter of fact. Namjoon just let out a chuckle to you reply. The boys sometimes tease you about Jimin and you being a couple as the two of you are seemingly close compared to others. Jimin has been your friend the longest so it’s not shocking that the two of you are very close. However, you can’t deny the fact that you’ve caught a liking to him. You don’t do anything though; in fear of ruining your friendship so you just kept it and wished that one day it will all go away. You avert your attention back to Jimin who’s finishing his coffee. “Jimin, come on. It will be fun. Hm?” He looks at you and you showed him your best puppy dogs eyes; wishing that it will work. “Fine.”

The two of you are walking on the path full of cherry blossom trees, taking photos every now and them. Eventually, both of you got tired and decided to rest in one of the benches. Jimin look around the area until his eyes landed on you. You look so beautiful appreciating every person, couples, and family that takes photo in the cherry blossom tree that your eyes landed on. He can’t help but smile and stare at you. You might be annoying and acts like a child sometimes but you’ve been there for him in his ups and downs. You support him no matter what and doesn’t forget to care for him. He can’t imagine his life without you in it. He loves you so much that he wants you in his life forever.

“Jimin?” you said looking at him intensely wondering what his thinking. “huh?” “Don’t look at me like that.” You pushed him softly as you chuckled. “Like what?” He looked straight at your eyes causing your heart to jump. You contemplate if you would answer that. Like you’re eyes shoot out hearts to me? Like you adore me? Like you like me? You decided that you will not answer that and so you stood up and started walking. He followed you behind and started teasing you. “Like what, Y/N? Why can’t you answer- Are you blushing?” He asked smiling as he poke your cheeks. He finds it fun teasing you it’s like one way of showing you that he likes you. “Stop it, Park.” He was baffled for a second. You never called him by his surname unless you’re serious. You don’t even know why you did that. Maybe it’s the fear that he will find out your feelings for him and ruined it all. That’s the last thing you wanted to happen between the two of you. He awkwardly chuckled to ease the tension his feeling. “I think you’re hungry. Calling me by my surname.” He suggested that the both of you had lunch in a nearby fast food to chill you out. You happily complied as eating is your favorite thing in the world. “You’re treat, ok?”

The air between the two of you came back to normal. Both of you happily eat the food you order and you also happily eat Jimin’s food. “Why are you eating mine? You have yours, Y/N!” He said pouting. You just laughed at him because of how cute he is whining like that to you. “It’s not even funny.” You slightly stood up from your seat and pinch his cheeks; a wide smile spread across your face. “Whatever” He said as he continued to eat his food faster this time afraid that you eat all his food. This sends you laughing and gave some of your food to him. “We’re like a couple. Sharing food like this.” He laughed at the end of his statement. This made your cheeks blush in bright red again. You can’t look at him anymore after that and just finish your food in silence not bothering in eating his food again.

You guys walked back to where his car was parked after eating. Feeling satisfied you pat his back muttering a simple thank you before yawning. All the food you ate really put you ready to bed. Jimin chuckled at you. “Sleep in the car.” You nodded enthusiastically and went inside the car. Jimin looks at your sleeping form every stop light that you guys run into and smile to himself. Moments like this is what he wanted to treasure forever. You look so peaceful while sleeping that he can’t contain his feelings anymore. There was another stop light and this time he decided to give you a quick kiss on your forehead. “I love you” he whispered before kissing your forehead. The car behind you honk so loud that startled you from your sleep. Jimin immediately drove off before other drivers get angry at him. “Jimin drive properly.” You said before going back to sleep. He sighed, relieved that you didn’t notice what he did or said. He continued driving carefully when suddenly another car which is fast approaching was coming your way. Jimin tried to avoid it but it was too late. The only thing that you heard while your sleeping are glass shattering and Jimin calling out your name. You thought everything is a dream as you were sucked by the darkness not long after. Jimin was badly hurt. Blood was dripping at the side of his head, his hands are cut by the shards of glass and his body is giving up. “Y/N…” He kept on whispering as he tried to grab you before he fell asleep.

 “Jimin, Wake up-” Your voice jolted him awake, he put his hands on his forehead as he wince in pain from the sudden rush. “Jimin, you shouldn’t stand up. Just lie down. I’m gonna call the doctor.” Jin who was sitting beside his bed nagged him and stood up. He didn’t listen though he’s still sitting up eyebrows scrunched together. Before Jin approached the door Jimin asked in panic. “Where’s Y/N? What happened to, Y/N?” He keep on shouting at Jin when he didn’t answer. He just went out, leaving Jimin in a desperate state. The doctor arrived after some time checking Jimin his status. “You’re stable now but you might get headache here and then because of the impact so we have to keep you here for a few days” The doctor said with a simple smile to Jimin. Before the doctor left  he asked again. “Y/N… She came with me. Where is she?” The doctor only sigh and looked at Jin but he just lowered his head. Jimin who was confused and know nothing what is going on, shouted again. “Tell me! where is she? Please. I need to know she’s alright.” He sobbed the last words. He needs you to be alright. That you’re just in some room waiting for him to visit you there. Jin walked over to him and pat his back. He doesn’t know how to tell his best friend on what happened. “Jimin… Y/N…” Jimin lift his head to look at his hyung waiting for him to continue. “She’s in a Coma.” And just like that Jimin’s world crumbles down. He started crying intensely while Jin hugged him.

After a few weeks, Jimin got discharged from the hospital but he didn’t went straight home, instead he goes to you and watch you until visiting time is over. He can’t help but feel guilty on what happened. If only he was more careful this wouldn’t happen. He still have a lot of things he needs to tell you. You still have a long way to go in your life. You can’t just leave him like that. He believes that you will wake up one day. He promised to himself that he will not let go off you. You are strong and he knows that you will fight in order to be back.

But as the days went by and you’re still not waking up your family started to panic, that maybe you’ll never wake up. They asked the doctor about your state, if you will ever wake up. He told them that there’s still hope and they shouldn’t give up. Jimin never missed a day to be with you. Even in busy schedules he finds a way to see you, to hold your hand and tell you that he loves you and he’s waiting for you to wake up.

It’s been 9 months since the accident when all of a sudden you flat lined. Jimin was sent to a panic state he didn’t know what to do. He kept yelling your name, shaking you, trying to wake you up. The boys just arrived and was welcomed by the scene. Half of them rushed to call a doctor when half of them tried to calm Jimin down. “Y/N… No! You can’t! Y/N!” he kept on shouting as he was trying to free himself from his best friends’ grasp. The doctor and some nurse immediately arrived. The nurses pushed everyone out but Jimin didn’t backed down. “She needs me! No! Let me stay!” He kept on insisting. He didn’t want to leave your side. He can’t. Jin called your family to tell them what happened while the other guys hug him tight, telling him that everything will be alright, that you’re stronger than this. He wanted to believed them at first but as time goes he’s not sure anymore. He can’t do anything but wait outside and it’s killing him. The doctor walked outside and searched for a guardian. Realizing that your family’s not there yet Jimin stood up immediately. “Me! I’m his…. Boyfriend.” He said in a whisper. He could be your boyfriend if this didn’t happen. He will eventually confess to you and maybe you tell him you like him too. “okay… she suffered in a cardiac arrest. We are afraid that this might lead to brain death. We’ll perform some tests to make sure.” His eyes went wide. He can’t process anything after that. All that’s in his mind are the words brain death. He’s no medical person but he knows that the percentage of you waking up is getting lower.

When the results arrived, your family and Jimin went to see the doctor to know how it went. He wished time would stop. He wished he could bring time back. To do it all over again, to prevent this from happening. A tear fell from his eyes and another, until it just flows like a waterfall. Your mother was bawling beside him as your father hug her. The three of them goes out of the doctor’s office and while your parents sat at the nearby chairs and cry their hearts out, Jimin walked to your room. The doctor’s words kept on repeating inside his head even though he tells it to stop. “I’m sorry to tell you this but Y/N is now brain death. The chance of her waking up is so small. There’s also a huge possibility that she might not wake up anymore. The machines are helping her live but without it she might not last long. You have the choice to let her remain here and keep on fighting or you can also let her go. It’s all your choice. Again, I’m very sorry.”

Looking at you sleeping so peacefully like you did inside his car made his heart ached than ever. You shouldn’t be here. It’s all his fault. After all those times he still blame himself. He cried and cried until sleep consume him. He was awakened the next day by your mom. She wanted to talk to him about you and their decision. “You can’t. She’ll wake up!” He said standing up. Your parents decided to not let you suffer anymore and this made Jimin frantic. Your mom started crying again. Nobody wanted this, but they have to let you go. “Jimin… we already decided. We can’t let her suffer anymore.” Your father stated, fighting back sobs. “You can’t…” he whispered as he sat back down, losing all his strength as he think about you leaving him.

“Jimin, Wake up! It’s spring! Look outside!” He slowly opened his eyes. The sun rays outside beams his room welcoming a new day. It’s been 3 months since your family let you go and a year since the accident. Its spring again. You favorite time of the year. The cherry blossoms are out you must be so excited. You always love them. He thought. He make his way to the dining room to eat breakfast. Jin who’s already there look at him with a worry expression. “I’m fine hyung. Don’t worry.” He said as he sat down and started eating. No words were exchanged after that. He decided to visit the cherry blossoms this year because he knows you love seeing them. He walked on the same path the two of you walked a year ago, he took pictures where you guys took pictures together, he sat on the same bench you sat on, he even eat at the same fast food. He ordered the same meals you guys ate. The only difference is that you’re not there anymore with him. You’re not there to wake him up early in the morning, annoy him in taking pictures, and nobody to share his food with. He fought back the his sobs as he finish his food and your supposedly food. After all of that, instead of heading back to your apartment, he headed to your grave but before that he made sure to buy you some cherry blossoms for yourself.

“Hi, Y/N! I’m back.” He sat down and put cherry blossoms on top of your grave stone. “It’s been a year since you last saw the cherry blossoms with me. You must be sad that I’m not with you this season, huh?” he chuckled at his statement because you’re not the one who’s sad it was him. He wanted for you to be with him. “I hope you have a cherry blossoms there all year round so you won’t be sad any bit.” He smiled a painful smile. “The guys told me that holding onto you is not healthy. I still act like you’re here with me.” He started crying now as he realize that he needs to let go of her already to finally move on. “I never forgotten about you, Y/N. I still love you. And I promise I will forever.” He’s crying loudly now in a fatal position. Just the thought of letting go of you pains him so much but he have to do it. It’s the only way for him to move on.

He stand up as he wipes his tears away. “I love you, Y/N. I did fail to tell you when you’re alive but I hope you felt it. I’ll visit again soon, don’t worry.” He walked away with heavy footsteps but glanced back just one more time.

“Goodbye Y/N.”

Thank you for reading!

(P.s. i might delete this soon idk.) 

[aggresivelyfriendly]

~Meet Me In The Hallway~

Chapter 22-Turbulence

“Get up!” Michael kicked the end of my bed and the shake was enough to rouse me from my slumber. I’d stayed up late, hoping that Harry would call me. But, just like all the nights this week, my phone had not rang, and the lack of that sound was deafening. His texting had fallen away too; it had been several days since we had had any form of communication at all. His answers to my mundane questions, a line with a dead worm on the end for all their usefulness as bait, were one word often, and his most common sentiment was that he was tired, not that he missed me. When I first made it home, after my two day coma, he was full of rings and tings. My phone went off a lot I thought, so much that my mom actually seemed really irritated by its interruptions of family dinners. “You two have been running around the world for months, the least you could give me is a few meals with your cell phones safely away in your bloody rooms!” She’d griped as she loaded up my plate with grilled meat. I could tell she had went to trouble with this meal. The pineapple salsa she had on the side was my favorite. So I didn’t answer the phone. It pained me, but it was one of the few calls that I missed. Harry, I tried to understand, had to press the shady button more often. With the time zones and their scheduled I got it. Then the calls started to dwindle. And self doubt crept in. As time wore me out, I wasn’t sure if he was avoiding me, or just didn’t really want to talk to me. Over the weeks, my urge to press his contact name and hear his voice was overrun with anxiety. When I stopped calling, he did too. Or maybe I had done most of the calling and was just too excited and enamored to notice it. He did text me back, though I was sick to death of waiting until he could send me short responses. I was sick to death of waiting. I just, I missed him. And he didn’t seem to miss me.

I sat in my room with an empty journal on my lap the night before my rude awakening and just wondered if I had imagined his interest. He had all but said it. And he had shown me that he cared for me, wanted me, implied he loved me. A world away though all I could ask was why. He had the world, and its female population, with a hearty dose of the male too, at his feet. What would he want with one girl? What would he want with me? The seesaw we were on was as dizzying as the tilt a whirl, and I had promised myself that if I didn’t hear from him soon, I’d let it go. I’d let him go. I didn’t want to be a burden. I must be, if the weight of calling me was too heavy, how would all of the massive things that I dreamed about feel across his shoulders, no matter how broad. I wanted more than morning cuddles. I wanted more than him calling me baby. I wanted more than shared meals. I wanted the shared life he had mentioned. I wanted more. I wanted. But maybe he didn’t. In the moments where he had a willing girl, increasingly naked and eager in his bed, no wonder he had imagined his interest in me. Or worse feigned it. And he, a very red blooded male, who was very active I knew for a fact before I invaded his bed, of course availed himself of my offer. Though in the waning hours of the night, when the world and my thoughts were darkest I wished he had been a little more selfless and given a care before he took–before he took me. I felt like I’d been taken. Like he owned me, body and soul, and I had been a distraction at best. A warm body at worst. It was wretched. So, in the interest of self preservation and fear, I decided I’d make myself scarce. Stay away for this final little leg of Oceania, and resurrect all those plans I had for my life before I was monogrammed HS. I’d made a plan. I’d written it all down last night. Hair at the hotel, come home and sleep here when possible. Do not watch the concerts, avoid all mentions of Harry Styles. Make a female friend. Learn to date boys who didn’t set me and the world on fire. Actually find a boy to who wanted to date me, instead of have me secretly warm his bed. This list became very useful when I actually implemented it years later, though it went to waste upon its initial creation, because my brother had other ideas for my day and the Aus section of the tour. "Wake up Melly!” This time he was not having my grogginess as he yelled at me. “Jeezus!” I kicked at him as he started pulling the blankets off the bed. “What do you want, ass face?” “I want you to come with me! The boys asked for you and you have been even more of a hermit than usual, so you are going to come with me and act like a human and see people!” He widened his eyes at me. “Now, go shower, you look like shit!” “Stop trying to pull my blankets off! I’m naked under here!” I squealed when I threw myself over the blanket about to be coldly removed from my body. My bare ass on display was better than a full frontal shot I figured. And he was a irritation I wanted gone. Maybe I’d fall back to sleep. “Since when do you sleep naked, prude?” he questioned. Since Harry I thought. It simplified things in the mornings. And I loved those mornings in LA. I’d adopted the habit and learned to love the feeling of crisp sheets over my bare body. The few times a video chat had happened, my naked state had been expedient. Maybe I did it out of hope. I figured I was safe then as he’d stopped pulling my shelter away. But he ripped it off me this time. “I don’t care about your ass, I’ve seen it before, though it as a lot smaller then! You are coming with! If I have to drag you! So make yourself presentable.” Looking back maybe Michael wasn’t as clueless as Harry and I thought. He was dead set on me going with and it was Harry who had asked for me, I guess. I was so wrapped in my thoughts I had missed a few key facts in my stripping though. "Oi,” I called  after him, “where are we going!” Making my way with a towel wrapped around me to the shower. Michael came out of nowhere then, and shoved me into the bathroom. “The 1D boys have made it! I want to see everybody, and they asked for you, lord knows why, so shower, stank!” “Don’t call me that!” I shouted. I’d hated that when I was little. He gave me such a complex about the way I smelled at one point that I developed a rash from too frequent bathing. I lingered so long over my ablutions trying to put off the inevitable and squelch my hope in the face of expected heartbreak, that Michael basically banged in the door until I came out and kept juggling my door knob until I got dressed. “Fuck off, I’m ready now, ass!” I seethed! I had no idea how I was going to handle being in a car with him for half hour at least. “Finally!” He about faced and expected me to trail after him. I did. “No idea why Harry asked for you! Unpleasant snatch!” “Language!”’ my mom said while Michael grabbed the keys to his brand new car. “Don’t talk to your sister like that. "Thank Mummy,” I played my baby sister role up while my brother apologized, to mum, not me, and we headed down the drive. The ride was not as bad as it could have been. My brother immediately put on a playlist and turned it up. So I was free to go over all of my mistakes with Harry and personal flaws in peace.  I even nodded off once we got past the traffic and I was shaken awake, though this time more gently. Another beautiful hotel, made plain by comparison to so many others, greeted us. The lobby was expansive and I felt like we were in a convention center type place by the time we reached the damask wallpapered elevator. My feet were aching even in my trainers, but not as much as my belly. With each floor up, my heart sunk a little deeper. It was surely in the subterranean parking garage by the time we got off the elevator, to Niall riding a segue down the hallway with a beer in each hand. “Nialler!” Michael shouted and Niall stood straight up and hit a button with his elbow without spilling a drink. The momentary distraction from my downward spiral was welcome. I partook in the high fives he doled out at our awe. He’d handed us each a beer. I handed mine back. “Michael and Melly! I love that you all make me say mmmmm!! Come on,“ he lead us away, "everybody but Harry is in here,” he shoved open a door and music floated out. “Let me text him, he made a big stink about me letting him know when the big red dogs arrived!” He drunkenly laughed at his own joke and pulled the hair on Michael’s head I had dyed red recently. I loved how merry he was. It was hard to be angsty around Niall. I figured I’d have to bask in sunshine if Harry shut me in the dark. It might be the only way I was gonna survive this party, and apparently it was a party. There were drinks flowing and I made my way over to where Niall had plopped down and grabbed an acoustic guitar with yet another beer by his side. He hugged my head. A couple people had wandered over to say hello and I was chatting with Lottie about a new strobing technique she had learned when I felt him come in. All the hairs on my arms were stood up and I wasn’t sure if I was in the middle of a romance novel or horror film. I kept myself turned away, I wasn’t eager to find out what tropes I’d be party to. Would I my find myself watching the sunset from a balcony or have my heart ripped out? Would Harry be my romantic lead or my nightmare? When I heard his voice nearby me, saying Michael’s name, I couldn’t help but look up. He was locked in some bro hug type thing with my brother. But he was looking at me. He looked like shit. His eyes were red and bleary and his nose was swollen and his skin was pasty, patchy and pale. I’d never seen him look so unhealthy. “Harry!” I called before I got ahold of myself. Even if I was hurt by his casual disregard, I was so concerned about how miserable he looked I just couldn’t keep the edge out of my voice. No one seemed to notice my solicitude, save Niall who gave me a curious look. And Harry, whose face brightened and tried to smile before he grimaced and had a coughing fit. Once he was done hacking up a lung, he came over to me and I nearly tripped over my own feet to stand when he got close enough. I leaned forward immediately and his hand caught my shoulder before I could wrap my arms around him. My face must have fallen. “Don’t hug me, I’m poorly!” he cautioned. I threw that caution at the wind and wound my arms around his neck and buried my nose into his neck and sniffed until I could smell him under the Mentholatum and tea. “You let Michael hug you,” I chided into his neck. “I don’t care if Michael gets sick.” He clinched me a little tighter and whispered “missed you,” before pulling back mouthing ‘so much’ at me. My belly warmed, and I smiled big at him. He grinned back at me and I was willing to forgive his silence, so soon, forgive him even indifference if he stayed near me. Our staring contest was going a little long and I’m sure my eyes had stars in them. Harry seemed to catch himself, and he averted his gaze and sent a knee in Niall’s direction and they started to talk about plans. “You going to the beach?” Harry scraped out over the gravel in his throat while Niall pretended to be a Jedi for having blocked his knee. “Yeah, sounds like good craic and Ashton insists you can’t come to Australia and not do beach stuff. That true?” He directed at me and it took me a moment to realize he was addressing me. He was looking at me, but I was looking at Harry. “What?” I glanced at Niall. “I asked if you were coming to the beach with us?” That didn’t sound quite right, but I could see a knowledge around the edges of his smile that I didn’t like. Niall either suspected us or thought I, like so many others, had developed a bit of a crush on Mr. Styles. Which I guess had a grain of truth in it at least. But, even someone’s uninformed opinion qualifying our relationship in such a simplistic way was insulting to me. I didn’t have a crush and whatever it was that I had was requited. I thought. I hoped. “Um, no yeah?” I answered and the distraction in my voice was so obvious I might as well have been a small child licking an ice cream instead of listening to a calling parent. I shook myself slightly. “Yeah, I’m always up for the beach,” kind of a lie. “When are we going?” I looked at both of them. “Whenever this arseface gets better!” Niall mock punched Harry’s stomach. “You are the weakest wanker, been sick for at least a week and almost didn’t make the plane here.” “Heeeey!” Harry whined. “How sick are you?” I looked at his red rimmed eyes while he picked his chapped lower lip. “I’m better!” He protested and Niall coughed. “Yeah, in that you are upright, doc almost didn’t let him on the plane. Never seen you raise hell like that before Harry! Guess you really wanted to make it to Oz.” Niall looked at both of us and I wanted to be embarrassed, but I was so hopeful that I was why he wanted to make it on that plane and he was so sick he couldn’t get ahold of me, or didn’t want to worry me, or…. I needed to stop making excuses for him, but I just wanted to wrap him up in blankets and make him tea and toast. “I need another beer,” Niall got up and I noticed his glass was half full and quirked a brow, but Harry just smiled and shook his head before taking Niall’s spot, moving like a man of 80 not a boy not yet 20. “Ughhh,” he blew out and rested his head against the back of the couch. I raked my eyes over him, I’d missed looking at him, and I knew my gaze lingered entirely to long, someone would notice, but I wanted to drink him in from a fire hydrant, even when he looked like- “You look like shit!” I said and was surprised by the tinge of anger present in my voice. Good, I still had a backbone somewhere. He rolled his head my way, “Yeah, cheers, feel like it too.” He coughed suddenly. “What’s wrong with you?” I started to move my idle hands from my lap, but caught them and looked around the crowded hotel room. “You should be in bed.” “Have been, for days, I think I slept most of this week. Doctor said flu,” he looked at me regretfully and I wondered if words of apology would cross his downturned mouth too. “Go back to bed, Harry.” I decided to flex my vertebrae and went to stand, but he caught my hand, quickly, and I looked back at him. His mouth was pursed, lips thin and he looked peaky and pitiful, and my spine compressed. “Will you come with me? Meet me?” He inclined his head to the hallway. “Missed you, um, would really like a cuddle.” He forced a dimple and dissolved into another coughing fit. I sat back down and angled my body to hide the hands we still had joined. “Were you too sick to call me?” Slipped out weakly and I wanted to bite my tongue off and spit it out, traitorous slip. He nodded, “I have been, before that, we were just so crazy just, with the movie and like interviews—” “Too busy to even say hi?” I stared at our hands where he was rubbing my knuckles. “Please come back to our room,” my head jumped up, “and let me explain! I feel shit and just could, look,” he coughed again, “please, cuddle me.” God, I hated that I loved him right then. But, I nodded and raised my eyebrows. His lips quirked gratefully, maybe in triumph and I wanted to leave him alone in that hallway, but I knew I wouldn’t. “Five minutes?” I hated how little it took for me to give in, just the happy look on his poor little face turned me inside out. I was a jellyfish, no bones to speak of at all. I nodded and bit my lip and he got up, looking at me for a long moment before he left me alone on the couch, trusting that I would follow. The last time I had followed him out of a hotel room congregation had been with light feet and a hopeful heart. This time, I could feel a seed of resentment sprouting in my heart, but I went, because i was only aware the thing was beating when he helped me remember it was present in my chest. After some furtive glances and a surety that no one was watching, I made it to the door, and down the corridor, this one with more of the textured wall paper from the lobby. The walls were red and black and lush. As overwrought and baroque as my little feelings. Big feelings, really. All of my feeling surrounding Harry were huge-tidal, and weighty, apparently even my disappointment. This time, he wasn’t hiding out in a room to pull me into his arms and a celebratory kiss. Harry was waiting in the hallway, proverbial hat in his hands. He’d even clasped them together in front of him, like he was waiting for the rap of my ruler over his knuckles. If that had made me feel better, I might have done it, if it were on the table. He would have let me. I could tell he felt guilty just looking at his snotty face. But I didn’t want him hurting, which he clearly was with his sickness, and I had no desire to do the hurting. “Baby–” he started and I held up my hand. “Baby? Really?” I scoffed a little, some sass was left in me yet. He narrowed his eyes a moment, “I’m not allowed to call you baby when you are mad at me? I’m also not allowed to say your name I think, when I’ve hurt you, if I remember correctly. So what am I supposed to call you?” People in New Zealand could hear my eye roll. "don’t be petulant, Harry. Let’s go back to your room, unless you want to do this in the hallway?” “Do what? Are you breaking up with me?” He extended his hand and flashed them out, like magician showing he didn’t have a magical object. “Breaking up what? We aren’t together, even!” My voice went up an octave on that one. He drew his neck back and squinted at me, “We’re not? You sleep with boys you aren’t with, Mel?” Oh I was gonna kill him. “Not your business if I do.” His jaw expanded at that and he started walking and all the air went out of me faster than an unplugged bounce house. He caught my hand on his way and pulled me, quickly swiping his key across the sensor until it said go and he pushed in with me trailing behind him. He turned then, his face a little red, not from rough tissue. “We!” He motioned between us. “Are together, ok?” It was somewhere between a question and a command and my head spun like a top. “Huh?” I stared at him slack jawed. “Melody,” his voice softened considerably, but he still has a tinge of red in his voice. “I’m sorry I didn’t call, but like, I was overwhelmed, and tired, and then sick. I got on that plane, um, even though the doctor said my eardrum may burst, because I couldn’t go another day without seeing your face.”He cupped my jaw then and pressed his forehead to me. “We, baby,” he said in capitals letters, “are together. I only sleep with you and you only sleep with me! Ok?” He looked at me like he was convincing a jury against falsified evidence. “Ok, Melody can we be ok?” All the fight was going out of him. "Ok,” I agreed and he deflated against me. “But, H,” he sighed. “People who are together call

each other.”

“Ok, I’ll be better Melly, I’ll get better, ok?” he sighed and wrapped his arms around my waist so I was supporting more of his weight. “Can I please have my cuddles now?” He said against my lips but still not kissing me hello.

“No!” I shook my head, effectively rubbing our lips together. “No?” He pulled back to look at me. “Gotta pay the toll.” I tapped my lips. “Baby, I’m sick!” He half heartedly protested, pressing lips to mine and walking backwards to the bedroom. So was I, I thought, lovesick.

All The Love as always to my darling beta @nocontrolforlouis and to my readers and responders!!

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[andromeda---galaxy]

routine procedure (chapter two)

Philip stares out the window on the journey to Tivoli and feels like he’s working himself up. Hospitals already make him nervous because of everything that happened with Lukas, everything that happened after Ryan was killed, and he knows that’s affecting the way he thinks about this. He’s trying not to panic. He knows that’s the last thing Helen needs to see.

 He feels Lukas reach over and start massaging his shoulder. There’s only the stretch of road ahead of them, the single red Honda they’d been contending with a while back so far ahead of them now that they can’t see it anymore.

 “Got like half an hour,” Lukas says. “Gonna swing by mine real quick, leave Iz with Dad, then we’ll head straight to the hospital.”

 Philip looks down at his phone.

 “She said anything yet?” Lukas asks, clearly tracking Philip’s every move.

 “No,” Philip says, trying to hide his dejection over that fact even though he knows Lukas can probably sense it anyway. He sighs, reaching up and taking Lukas’s hand, holding it in his lap. “It’s just his appendix.”

 “Exactly,” Lukas says, squeezing his hand.

 “He’s gonna be fine,” Philip says, eyes intent on Lukas.

 “He’s gonna be absolutely fine,” Lukas says.

Izzy lets out a rumbling snore from the backseat that sounds like an affirmation, and Philip smiles a little bit, glancing back at her.

 “Let me know if you need your hand back,” Philip says, bringing it up to his mouth and kissing Lukas’s knuckles.

 “You can have it,” Lukas says. “You know all of this belongs to you.” His eyes trace down over his own body briefly and then he raises his eyebrows, smiling a little bit.

 Philip holds Lukas’s hand tight, taking comfort in the deeply familiar thing between them. “My favorite thing,” he mutters, a little bit to Lukas and mostly to himself. “You.”

 Lukas rubs his thumb along Philip’s skin.

 ~

 They don’t spend much time with Bo and Sarah because almost as soon as they get there Philip gets a text from Helen, very brief, saying Gabe is out of surgery. He gets put in a room when they’re driving over to the hospital. Once they’re on the third floor and heading to see him Philip holds tight to Lukas’s hand, his head going dizzy.

 He clears his throat as they’re walking and Lukas looks back at him, stopping in the middle of the hallway for a second.

 “You okay?” Lukas asks.

 Philip nods, but all of it is giving him a bad feeling. He feels like he’s trained himself to expect the worst, has only recently started breaking himself of it. He swallows hard, Lukas’s eyes still on him, and he nods again. They keep walking and Philip tries to chill out as they approach room 310, Gabe’s room. Lukas knocks, giving Philip another worried look.

 “Come in,” Helen’s voice says, from inside.

 Philip lets Lukas lead him inside even though he knows he should be the one leading. He’s sorta terrified to see Gabe like this.

 It’s pretty dark inside and Philip’s eyes immediately go straight to the bed, which doesn’t assuage his fears at all, even though he’d been hoping it would. Gabe is in the hospital gown, his face pale and his eyes closed. It hits Philip hard, like a punch to the gut, instantly reminding him of Lukas in the coma. His mom dead a day later. The worst time of his life.

 Gabe opens his eyes as they close the door and a small smile appears on his face. “Hi boys,” he says.

 “Come on in,” Helen says, from beside him, closest to the window. “Don’t just stand there.”

 Her voice sounds pinched and Philip recognizes the tone, though he knows it’s more than mild irritation now. It makes him worry even more, like even though the surgery is done and Gabe is here that something is still wrong.

 “It’s okay, babe,” Gabe says, slowly looking at her. “We know hospitals suck, right guys?”

 Philip knows Helen knows too. He swallows hard, worried about everything that’s in the air here, and he disentangles his hand from Lukas’s and approaches the bed, sitting down in the chair there. “How are you?” he asks, his voice going a little high. “How’re you feeling?”

 “Oh, just fine,” Gabe says, managing a smile, but Philip can tell there’s a strain behind it. “It’s nice to see you two, just wish it was under different circumstances.”

 “Gabe, you should have just told us you wanted us to visit,” Lukas says, going for levity as he hovers behind Philip, hand on his shoulder.

 “Guess I wanted to try out your flair for the dramatic,” Gabe says, smiling at him.

 Philip snorts as Lukas scoffs, tapping his hand on the back of Philip’s chair. “Alright, sharp as ever,” Lukas says.

 “We’re a little bit off,” Helen says, her chair making a little squealing noise as she scoots closer to the bed. “Though he won’t admit it.”

 “I didn’t expect to feel amazing after surgery,” Gabe says. His voice is raspy and he sounds tired.

 Philip’s heart is beating really loud in his ears.

 “You think things are abnormal?” Lukas asks, directing the question at Helen. Philip looks at the IV in Gabe’s arm, the paleness of his skin. He’s sweating and he looks a little out of it. Philip had looked online how the patient would be after an appendectomy and this wasn’t what he was expecting, even though he was worried about something like this. Everything feels off, and he’s even more convinced of it because Helen clearly feels the same way. He wonders if they’re both just being overly clingy, terrified because of their past experiences, their way of seeing the world.

 “I’m sure it’s fine,” Gabe says, but he sounds weak. Philip chews on his lower lip.

 “Philip,” Helen says, meeting his eyes. “Can you come outside with me for two minutes?”

 “We’re keeping secrets now?” Gabe asks, coughing a little bit.

 “Just wanna talk to my kid,” Helen says, getting out of her seat. “I’m well aware he’ll tell Lukas everything later on anyway.”

 Philip swallows hard and reaches out, squeezing Gabe’s wrist before getting up too. He briefly catches Lukas’s eye as he moves around the chair, grazes his arm with his fingertips before following Helen out of the room.

 She’s stands there in the hallway and Philip has never thought she looked small before, but she does now. She’s got her arms wrapped around herself and she glances at the door, her eyes a little wild. “I don’t think things went right,” she says.

 “How come?” Philip asks.

 “Well maybe they did but I—I just don’t know, I feel strange.”

 “Well, why?” Philip asks, shifting a little from foot to foot.

 “I just know him,” she says, shaking her head. “I’ve seen him in pain before, I’ve seen him recovering, normal and just—there’s something else wrong. I know it. Something they didn’t catch, something that stemmed from the procedure—I don’t know.”

 Philip feels like he’s right on the edge of a panic attack but he has to stay strong for her, level-headed. “Has he said something?”

 She shakes her head again. “I’m sure he just wants to get out of here, start recovering at home, but I just—I looked up this whole thing when it was happening and possible complications and I’m just—I’m just worried there were complications and we don’t know yet. Things can happen, easily.”

 “You’re just basing this off how he’s acting?” Philip asks, trying to keep his voice from wavering.

 A couple nurses walk by them and Helen steps a little closer to him. “You think I’m being paranoid?” She doesn’t sound mean or accusatory. She almost sounds nervous.

 “No,” Philip says, fast, because he knows he’s freaking out too, that Gabe doesn’t look good, and if it was Lukas he’d be assuming the worst until things were absolutely perfect again. Fuck, that’s—that’s what he did. After the coma, after the kidnapping, after the hospital stay. He remembers the day when he’d finally been distracted enough from his fears about Lukas’s wellbeing for a solid twelve hours—it was July fourth, which Lukas had used as a day to take Philip around town, getting burgers and hot dogs and ice cream before they watched the fireworks in the park.

 It had taken that long.

 Philip can imagine what Helen is feeling. He knows her relationship with Gabe is deep, all encompassing, and he isn’t the type of man to get sick often. Philip has heard about the great flu two months after they were married and how Helen dealt back then. This is ten times worse.

 “No,” Philip says again. “But maybe we should just—give it some time, see what the doctors say and then we can come to conclusions.”

 She nods, wetting her lips. “He did just get out of surgery. I keep trying to remind myself of that but it just—I don’t know.” She shakes her head again and Philip hates seeing her like this.

 “You have a feeling,” Philip says.

 “Yeah,” Helen says, her voice hitching.

 “I get it,” Philip says, his throat tight. He knows what that kind of love feels like. How they nearly read each other’s minds. How they can touch the curve of each other’s feelings in the air, can get all of it with one look even if the other is trying to hide behind a mask. He never could have even imagined what soulmates felt like before he met his own—and it strikes him then, the threads of connection here between the hallway and the hospital room, two sets of soulmates and the small family they’d made together. It’s steel, strong, and fuck, Philip understands her worries. He loves Gabe. Gabe is the father he never had. But seeing it from her point of view—the love of her life, the person who makes every day brighter—if he ever lost Lukas, he knows he wouldn’t be able to go on without him.

 “It’s just…it’s Gabe,” Helen says. “I just—I don’t know. I didn’t expect it to be sunshine and rainbows when he had his damn appendix pulled out of his body but—I’m probably just overreacting. Worrying. Just—not used to anything happening to him and I guess I’m—falling into that trap of expecting the worst.”

 “Can’t blame you,” Philip says, worry straining behind his own eyes.

 She smiles a little sadly and reaches out, cupping his cheek. “Thank you for coming, sweetheart,” she says. “Hopefully we get him home fast, I know you two have class. You probably can’t miss too many days.”

 “Mine’s mostly online and not til the end of the week,” Philip says. “Lukas called in—anyways, we’ll—we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”

 She nods at him, tugging him into a hug. He buries his face in her shoulder and prays it’s all gonna be fine. It’s just his appendix.

 It’s gotta be fine. It just has to be.

 ~

 “When did he fall asleep?” Philip asks, in the car with Lukas half an hour later.

 “Pretty fast,” Lukas says, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. “We talked a little bit, he said Helen was worried but he didn’t want you to be.”

 “Did he say how he felt?” Philip asks, and he doesn’t want to sound like he’s interrogating him but he sorta feels like he is.

 Lukas shifts his lips to the side. “He didn’t feel good—”

 “Did he say that?” Philip asks, his heart hammering against his ribcage.

 “Not exactly,” Lukas says. “It’s just—I don’t know. It’s hard to gauge it. I remember what it felt like when I woke up. You remember me?”

 “Yeah,” Philip says, slowly. He tries not to think about those times but it’s been coming up more and more lately with everything that’s going on, potential therapy for Lukas and now all this with Gabe. Philip feels like his head is spinning.

 “It’s hard to measure it, for real, like, how somebody is gonna look or feel or whatever after going through a surgery,” Lukas says. “I think we just need to like—maybe chill a little bit. I know it’s shitty and it makes us all worry but tomorrow we should have a better idea of what’s—what’s going on.”

 “That’s pretty much what I said to her but I was just trying to make her feel better,” Philip says.

 Lukas shrugs. “It makes sense, though.”

 Philip nods. He doesn’t know what to think. He doesn’t want to wait, doesn’t like how this makes him feel. His stomach is twisting and that old feeling of being utterly trapped in his helplessness is sinking into his bones.

 “It’ll be okay,” Lukas says, in that tone that he knows soothes Philip’s soul.

 Philip chews on his lower lip and isn’t convinced. They pull into the driveway of Lukas’s place, and Philip kinda hates calling it that in his head because it’s really Bo’s place, not Lukas’s. They have an apartment together now. They live together, they’re getting married. Philip can’t let himself fall into the past because his anxiety is trying to choke him to death.

 Lukas turns the car off and shifts a little bit so he’s looking at Philip. “Want me to do the thing?”

 Philip brightens up a little bit. “Yes,” he says, probably too fast. But he’s desperate.

 They shift more in their seats and square up facing each other, and Philip closes his eyes. He feels Lukas reach out, putting his fingers on Philip’s temples. He begins massaging gently, starting up the accompanying humming they’d came up with in a fit of laughter two weeks ago.

 “Cheer up sleepy jean,” Lukas sing-whispers, still massaging, “oh what can it mean—to a daydream believer and a—homecoming queen….” He leans in, pressing his lips to both of Philip’s cheeks, then the tip of his nose, then his mouth. Once, twice, and again, and then he stops, sliding his hands down Philip’s face, thumbs over his eyelids.

 “Better?” Lukas asks.

 They come up with it for panic attacks, when Philip was getting a little overwhelmed looking at the details of his case against Dour. Lukas had heard the song on a commercial earlier in the day and it just came out, a soundtrack to his soothing massaging and touching, and it’s turned into a sort-of ritual they trade back and forth, same hand motions, each trying to mimic the other. Philip loves it.

 “Yes,” Philip says, nuzzling their noses together. “Thank you.”

 “Of course, babycakes,” Lukas says, giving him another brief kiss before pulling back again.

 ~

 It still feels a little funny sleeping in Lukas’s bed here, considering how much things have changed since they used to do it every other night. They usually stay with Helen and Gabe, considering Lukas is still pretty awkward around Sarah and his dad when they’re together. He’s slowly getting better. Slowly being the key word.

 Izzy is down at the foot of the bed, laying on her back and snoring away like she usually does. Philip had left his phone off silent all night just in case Helen called, but he’s yet to get any kind of call or message.

 He watches Lukas sleep, knows he’s on the edges of a dream and close to waking, his eyelids fluttering. The fan fills the room with white noise and Philip thinks about his conversation with Helen yesterday. Her weird feeling about Gabe—Philip knows he’s gotten feelings like that about Lukas before with hardly any warning, just like a texture in the air or Lukas moving a little differently.

 It sure is something, the connection between certain people. He wishes it was explainable, put down in some kind of scientific quadratic formula he wouldn’t understand anyway if he saw it, but it might make more sense knowing it’s there.

 “Thinking too hard,” Lukas mumbles.

 A small smile spreads across Philip’s face. “Maybe,” he says.

 “’bout what?” Lukas asks, eyes still closed.

 “Do you, uh—believe in magic?” It’s not really what he wants to say, but it’s what his mind narrows it down to in the moment.

 Lukas’s eyes slowly open. “Magic?” he asks.

 Philip shrugs a little bit.

 “You mean like—between us?” Lukas asks.

 Magic. “Yeah,” Philip says. “Like—people—soulmates.” He blushes when he says the word. “Stuff between them.”

 “Kinda like Helen’s feeling, right?” Lukas asks. “With Gabe?”

 “You think people involved like we are can like—sense that kinda shit?” Philip asks. “Like we’re so in tune with each other that we’re like—”

 “On the same wavelength?” Lukas asks, raising an eyebrow.

 On one hand it almost confirms Philip’s crack theory and on the other it makes him feel a little embarrassed at how stupid he must sound.

 “Yeah,” Lukas says, before Philip can say another word. He blinks a couple times, drawing Philip closer by pressing a hand to his lower back. “I think it’s a mix of you’re together so often with the person you love that you sorta subconsciously memorize everything about them and like—cosmic shit. Soulmates are soulmates, we’re dragged together because we’re meant to be together, and that’s the universe working right there. Magic.”

 Philip finds himself smiling hard. He loves when Lukas gets like this.

 “Like that whole shit with Dour,” Lukas says, spitting out the word like it’s toxic in his mouth. “Even not being with you, even with you trying to hide it from me—I knew something was off, I could tell. I just—I could feel it, and I know you.”

 Philip touches Lukas’s face, nodding. “I know, I—I’m the same way with you. And that’s exactly why I believe her.”

 Lukas shifts his lips a little bit, eyes briefly glancing down to where Izzy is moving around, trying not to fall off the end of the bed. “Yeah,” he says. “Hopefully the doctors are keeping an eye on shit. You’d think they’d know if there were any complications.”

 “Yeah,” Philip says. “You’d think.”

 ~

 They have breakfast with Bo and Sarah, which mostly consists of Sarah feeding Izzy bacon under the table and monopolizing all of her attention. Bo seems concerned about Gabe, overly so, but makes no move to try and visit the hospital. It confuses Philip for a little bit, knowing how close Bo and Gabe have gotten lately, until he really thinks about it. Then he realizes that between Lukas’s mom and Lukas himself, Bo probably has his own perfectly understandable dislike of hospitals.

 When they’re five minutes down the road Philip’s phone starts ringing, Helen’s picture flashing on the screen. His heart lurches and he picks it up fast as he can.

 “Hello?”

 “He has a fever but they’re just giving him goddamn Advil and acting like they’re gonna let him go tomorrow,” Helen says. “I think these people are being goddamn negligent.”

 “What does he say?” Philip asks, rubbing his hand over his chest, trying to calm his heart.

 “He’s admitting he doesn’t feel the best,” Helen says, and that worries Philip the most. “I think they’re getting like this because the insurance might not cover a longer stay.”

 “Jesus Christ,” Philip says.

 “I don’t even care about that, we’ll deal with it,” Helen says. “I don’t want them forcing him out if he’s not ready to go, and the fact that he’s admitting he’s not ready to leave really means he’s not ready. I still think something else is going on but they’re not even looking into it. Just acting as if this is how it is, like it’s normal.”

 Philip swallows hard. “We’re on our way right now.”

 “Okay,” Helen sighs. “See you soon.”

 They hang up a moment later and Philip stares straight ahead, holding his phone tight.

 “What’s going on?” Lukas asks, tentatively.

 “Nothing good,” Philip says.

 ~

 When they get up into the room and open the door both Helen and Gabe are standing there, struggling to make it over to the bathroom. Lukas quickly moves to Gabe’s other side, wrapping his arm around his neck before any words are exchanged. Philip shuts the door, his heart in his throat, and he feels like he can’t breathe. This isn’t the scene he was expecting.

 Gabe is even paler than before, but he manages a smile for Philip. “So Helen just screamed at a nurse,” he says.

 “Really?” Philip asks, raising his eyebrows at her.

 The three of them take a few uncertain steps.

 “I wouldn’t say screamed,” Helen says.

 “It was close to screaming,” Gabe says, and he grimaces.

 “He’s supposed to be able to be up and around twelve hours after the surgery,” Helen says. “Does this look like up and around? He can barely walk. Everything that’s going on isn’t right, they’re not doing their jobs.”

 “You think something else is happening?” Lukas asks Gabe, as they slowly maneuver towards the bathroom.

 “Unfortunately, I think so,” Gabe says, clearly his throat. “It, uh, well—”

 “He’s having trouble going to the bathroom,” Helen says. “Meaning it’s impossible—”

 “Alright,” Gabe says, laughing a little bit. “They don’t need—”

 “What?” Helen asks. “They’re family.”

 Gabe sighs, shaking his head.

 “Feels woozy too,” Helen says. “Fatigued, lots of tenderness and pain in his abdomen.”

 “Thinking it might not just be the aftermath of the surgery,” Gabe says.

 Philip doesn’t know what the hell to say. He wants this resolved like yesterday. He needs Gabe to be better. He snaps himself out of his head and rushes over when they get close to the door. He opens it fast, watching Helen nod at Lukas.

 “Okay, I’ve got him,” Helen says.

 “You sure?”

 “Yeah—”

 “I’m sorry, boys,” Gabe says, giving Philip a sad look over his shoulder.

 “No,” Philip says, fast. “No, no, it’s fine.”

 “One second,” Helen says, maneuvering around and closing the door behind them.

 It feels strangely silent, the air heavy and thick all around them. Lukas heaves a sigh and walks over to Philip, brushing his hair out of his face. Philip leans into his hand, closing his eyes.

 “We should all raise hell,” Lukas says, his other hand on Philip’s hip. “Then they’ll have to do something.”

 “Or they’ll have us arrested,” Philip says.

 “Yeah right,” Lukas says. “Helen’s a sheriff. She’ll arrest them fir—”

 They both turn around when they hear Gabe throwing up. Philip’s heart lurches again and he hears Helen murmuring to him, and the sound of it almost makes him feel like he’s gonna start crying. He can’t imagine anything permanent happening to Gabe. It would fucking destroy Helen, which would destroy him.

 They’re his parents.

 Lukas leans in, kissing Philip’s forehead. “I love you,” he whispers.

 “Love you too,” Philip mutters, his voice breaking.

 The bathroom door opens but they don’t come out, everything silent for a couple seconds. There’s a high pitched sound in Philip’s ears—he and Lukas walk over, see them standing there in the brightness of the bathroom, Helen with a firm grip on Gabe’s waist.

 “What’s wrong?” Philip asks, his hand on the door handle, pulling it open a little wider. He feels Lukas walk up behind him. His chest is going tight and he bites down hard on his lower lip.

 Gabe is sweating, breathing hard and leaning on Helen heavily.

 “Gabe,” Helen says, her eyes intent and focused on him. “Gabe, can you—”

 He’s trembling, blinking slowly, looking like he wants to say something. And then he drops, crumpling in her arms. The high pitched sound in Philip’s ears reaches its peak and he can’t hear anything, the hair on his arms standing up as both he and Lukas move in without thinking, trying to help Helen ease Gabe to the floor. Both Helen and Lukas are saying Gabe’s name, trying to talk to him, but Philip can’t hear anything, can’t see, his vision blurry with tears. Gabe is limp, his eyes closed and Philip can’t breathe, can only fear the worst, the worst that’s been clawing at his heels his whole goddamn life.

 Now it’s Gabe.

[matildainmotion]

What if Self-Love is Not About the Self? By Natasha Fowler and Matilda Leyser

This blog is a collage.

A collaboration

A conversation between my words -Matilda’s- and….

….Mine, Natasha’s

It’s a blog about looking after yourself, ourselves, and how I, you, we go about doing that.

It is in two parts. You can also listen to the blog if you go HERE:

PART ONE:

First, to introduce ourselves:

Matilda: I am a mother, writer, theatre-maker, co-director of Mothers Who Make, wife, daughter, insomniac.

Natasha: I am a friend, a lover, a guardian, a wounded human. I am a White woman, descendant from my ancestors. I make art, share what I know and raise children.

We met at an international MWM meeting.

I’m trying to finish a draft of my novel by Christmas, so I am not writing any blogs. Instead, I send an email to Natasha, in Amsterdam….

Hi Natasha, Please let me know if you wish to write a MWM blog for the month of November. The only requirement is that it ends with a question, relevant to the theme of mothering and making, that can become the focus for the month’s meetings should people wish to take it up. Let me know….. Matilda

Thank you, Matilda, yes. I started work on the self-care article yesterday. I’m going to edit today and share with a few friends. I can commit to having it to you by Wednesday. I hope you have a good steady day of eating, working, caring and resting. I have stretched, washed and consciously dressed but my teeth are not cleaned yet (3/4 of my morning routine). Time to get off emails! Natasha

Late Wednesday, I receive Natasha’s first draft. I see it come into my inbox at nine pm, as I am about to read bedtime stories to my daughter – I think, ‘I won’t read that now, or I won’t sleep.’ I close down my laptop.

I don’t sleep anyway. One of the worst things about insomnia is the radical loneliness – an irrational sense that no one else in the world is still awake.

The next day, tired, wired, I read Natasha’s blog. I know I am a word control freak -I have been known to edit, and re-edit, a text message - but I feel uncertain about publishing Natasha’s draft in the MWM blog spot. I want more mothering and making in it. This also seems a very dubious response- to invite new, diverse people to write a blog and, when they don’t sound like me, to want to edit them to make them sound more so…..and yet, at the same time, I think there is something valid in wanting to look after the particular space that MWM holds, in meetings, online, in writings. After dithering for a few days, I email Natasha –

Hi Natasha, first a disclaimer: I am not in a great place right now. My chronic insomnia has become acute and I am not functioning well, so my critical faculties are pretty ropey! …But would you be willing, to include a little more about your mothering and making in the writing….?

Hi Matilda, It makes sense to me that my approaches and the boundaries of the blog are having a conversation. I am curious about why I don’t talk about mothering and making in a way that meets the criteria. I have an imaginative block for what that’d look like - which tells me I’m categorising the requirement differently to you. It’s a familiar thought cul-de-sac that comes with this Neurodiverse mind I operate in.

Neurodiverse. It’s a term that is relatively new to me and suddenly tremendously potent: at the end of September my son at last received an autism diagnosis. “I get it,” he said when my husband and I told him, “My brain does this” – he drew a detailed picture in the air of different, curved and diagonal connections between invisible points of meaning– “And other peoples’ do this,” he said, drawing a series of straight, right-angled lines.

Hi Natasha, as part of my learning in this area I would be very interested to hear a little more about how you name and describe your neurodiversity. Please send me a few lines articulating your sense of it - why does our exchange feel like ‘a familiar cul-de-sac’ to you? Tell me more about the cul-de-sac and the other streets and highways of your mind :-) Thank you again for your openness, integrity, and all your work on this. Matilda xxx

The cul-de-sac I talk about is a place I get stuck when I've been given a task and I have no imaginable concept of what that would look like. With a long conversation and lots of back and forth clarification, I would probably discover that I do know what you're talking about but I learned a long time ago not to try and clarify everything so precisely, it was not practical/ possible and probably led to people being annoyed by my questions.

Part of my response to the task is to think "but I made the writing - that's the making" and "I am a mother, so if I speak, I'm speaking from the experience of mothering".

In the end I understand the labels autism/ADHD/dyslexia/neurodiversity to be bureaucratic necessities in a world obsessed with 'normal'. The necessary diversity of human experience is medicalised, categorised in order for us to get the money from the system that is needed to exist in the system. I am disabled by what I live in and my race/class/gender identity have protected me from that disabling being far more consequential.

I can’t and don’t want to argue with any of this. I feel dismayed at the idea that my requirements for the MWM blog might actually in themselves be exclusive. I don’t feel good about wading in and making Natasha’s voice more acceptable within my idea of what the text should sound like. So, I think instead I will be transparent – I will leave her words as they are and add some of mine – put in the mothering and the making that I feel the need to include. As it happens, Natasha’s chosen theme, of the need for self-care to be a process that takes place as a collective, community act, could not be more relevant to my experience of mothering and making this month.

Here we go then….

PART TWO:

Natasha: I ran out of self-love this summer, overwhelmed by stories of all my faults, what I’d lost and not done. I spent too much time subject to a cruel inner tyranny. I held onto the idea that I could take care of the situation alone. That I could create the self-love I needed. I could not. I needed to depend on something beyond my self. Although I had vowed to love myself first only two years ago, I was now raising questions about this individualised ideal of self-love.

Matilda: Take care, people say. I still struggle to do this. I sit on the stairs at 3am. My husband is asleep. My son and daughter are asleep. They are 8 and 4. I am 46. I ought to be able to rest too - how can I possibly take care of them, if I cannot take care of myself in this fundamental way? Self-soothing is a skill that babies, some say, are meant to have learnt after only a few months. I tell myself this when I get to the sobbing stage at 4am. I fantasize about a mother figure– not my real mother who is 79 now, also in my care, also asleep – but some great giant of a mother coming walking through the woods outside. She is coming to take me up in her arms, hold me against her, above the trees, hold me, grown as I am, until I fall asleep. Because tomorrow I have other people to take care of– the children, my mother. And I have another chapter of my novel to write. I know I cannot write when I haven’t slept.

Natasha: I finally gave up the idea that self-love is my sole responsibility. I began to accept the dependence that exists, the vulnerability of my well being. My self-love became communal. Just like the child raising that I do along with my partner, our friends and family; just like the neighbourhood garden my wee boy and I joined in preparing for winter last week.

But how did I end up believing self-love is something I have to do by myself? Born in 1978, independence and individuality were highly prized values when I was growing up. To be able to do things yourself without help was a given. To be free of the demands of a group was important. The myth of singular heroes was all over the culture, from lonesome superheroes to introvert inventors and brave explorers. The heroes saved the vulnerable, and the vulnerable were symbolised as young, straight, thin, white women. The stories of everyone around the inventor and all that they did were edited out. The people who were there before the explorer even set his foot down were erased. The values of independence of individuality, invulnerability are seeped into my bones.

Matilda: Did you sleep? My husband asks me in the morning. I shake my head. He is worried. I am worried. I don’t know what to do. I have tried so many things. I tell him I might put a post about it on the Mothers Who Make Facebook group– “You should,” he says. “That’s what it’s for.” True. I started it, but I find it hard to reach out for support. I have a kind of pride, almost a snobbery, that has often stopped me sharing. ‘What’s on your mind?’ FB asks me – so many things, but I don’t want to place them in that white public space. It feels immodest to do so, to turn my life into a headline. But the truth is, I am afraid.

I recognise this. It is also why I find it hard to share my work. I hold onto it. I have been working on this novel for ten years, and hardly anyone has read it. It is the same reason I edit, re-edit text messages. I do not let people see the mess. The missed comas. The words out of place. I feel safest when sealed off, private, when only carefully crafted images of vulnerability are revealed. And yet, when I am sobbing at 4am, all I want is company. A giant mother. Someone, anyone, to see me, to see the mess of me.

Natasha: I am communally made. My ideas of who I am, what I do, what is the value in me are made during my relationships. Maybe I always knew that like the self-hate I was carrying, my self-love was a communal responsibility. I suspect there is something about the experience of being a mother in my culture that helped me forget. It seems to be an experience that isolates and calcifies our individual sense of responsibility. The International mothers who make calls were part of my communal self-love recovery. Getting to turn up to a new group and hear me tell my story and listen to so much good company. I hope we might all give and receive the love that we need to maintain a sense of our self being loved. I hope we are all learning what we need to learn to be able to do that.

Matilda: So I did it – I put the post on Facebook. I need some help, I wrote, I don’t sleep and I can no longer blame my children for this. My children are sleeping – I am not. Many of you reading this, may have seen it and responded. It was extraordinary for me to see such a huge number of compassionate, wise, responses so fast. Humbling. Profoundly helpful – not just the resources, but the act itself of reaching out and finding so many hands writing back. After only an hour, I went online to look and I could see the wavy line that appears when someone, somewhere is in the process of typing something. A real person out there, taking care. Not just one. Over a hundred. A giant number of mothers.

I wrote back to Natasha:

P.s. The amazing response I received to my insomnia post rather wonderfully proves your point - we don’t have to do this self-care thing on our own. Xxxxx

Don’t have to – can’t even – whoever you are, how ever your mind works, however brilliant you are, however vulnerable, however divergent, however alone you feel.

It sounds so simple. So obvious. We are interconnected. All the streets link up, even the cul-de-sacs have passages leading onto one another. There is no such thing as social distancing. Physical distancing, yes, but social – two metres apart between your thoughts and mine, your experience and mine, your words and mine – is just not possible.

Here then is Natasha’s, my, your, our question for the month:

How do you understand self-love, is it clearly something you must do for yourself? Or something you share? or maybe you practise other ideals of compassion? Maybe you carry some communally made self-hate too? How do you sustain yourself when overwhelmed?

[babylon-bitch]

Just Friends ~ Until We Die; Together (part 50)

A/N: I love this gif, and it’s perfect for this chapter because it’s looking back on memories

Harper White is best friends with Luke Hemmings, they always have been. Not only is she friends with the rockstar, but with the rest of 5 Seconds Of Summer, as well as a really nice girl named Erika.

Harper has a few secrets, she can play all the instruments the boys play and many more. It’s a talent she has kept hidden, only very few people know.

What will happen to the six teens, wondering around the world together?

Warnings: mentions of suicide, language, and a load of sadness

***

Dr Melvin leads us through the halls that will always give me goosebumps. After lots of turns, going on different floors, we finally end up outside of her door, a curtain on the window of her door is separating us from seeing her.

“I advise that one person goes in at a time.” He says.

“Okay.” Sarah nods and we all look at each other.

“Who’s going in first?” Erika asks.

“Luke?” Sarah offers.

“Uh, sure.” I say.

Dr Melvin gestures for me to go in, and I take a big inhale, before turning the handle and keeping my head down, not daring to look at her just yet, closing the door behind me. I close my eyes and hesitantly turn around, once I finally open up eyes again, my breathing hitches.

“Baby.” I whisper, taking her all in.

Loads of wires connecting machines surrounding her, her arms all bandaged up, some slight bruising on her jaw, half of the left side of her head is all shaved and and several stitches have replaced it. That’s all I can see as of right now.

I make my way to sit on the chair next to her bed, gingerly holding her hand, being careful of her broken fingers.

“I just wanna say I didn’t mean what I said, you were the best thing that ever happened to me, so to tell you that I regret dating you would be a complete lie. I caused all this mess between us, you can’t take the blame at all.”

I stare at our hands, how they look and feel so right together. Although I can’t help but feel a bit of guilt and hurt, because if she was awake and well, she’d pull her hand away in a heartbeat, whether that’s because she doesn’t want to see me again and hates me or it just hurts too much and can’t handle the heartbreak.

“How did it end up like this?”

It kills me everyday to think- no, to know I caused all her hurt. As far as I can tell, she was as in love with me as I was in love with her, so she must be feeling the same way as I am.

Probably slightly differently though, you see, I’m drowning in regret and guilt, where she is probably suffering from heartbreak, but knowing Harper, she’s probably blaming herself too.

“I love you, baby girl.”

Pressing my lips to her middle knuckle and sigh, seeing a tear fall onto her hand and rolls down her arm until it meets her elbow and it drops onto the white sheets.

“I’m sorry.” I say and put her hand back down.

Wiping my tears away, and sorting myself out, I can’t stand to look at her anymore.

She looks so peaceful but in so much pain, physically and mentally.

Placing such a tender kiss on her forehead before glancing at her one more time, and making my towards the door.

“I guess sometimes things just don’t have a happy ending.” I whisper.

I open the door and step outside, closing the door behind me, I’m met with tired, worried, and sad eyes.

“How is she?” Calum is the first one to speak up.

“Go and look for yourself.” I say and purse my lips,

The image of her in that state is gonna scar and haunt me for life.

“Can I?” He asks.

“Sure.”

***

“How did Harper get hit?” Michael asks a professional.

“Faulty breaks, she just happend to be at the wrong place at the wrong time.” She says.

Wrong place at the wrong time because of me.

“How are the other people that were in the accident?” Erika asks the doctor.

“They’re in the same position as Harper, although the youngest that was in the back has been put in a medically induced coma. Unfortunately there isn’t much hope for the driver, thankfully the front passenger is doing okay so far, broke a couple bones, she has scraped by with the least amount of injuries.”

“We’ve actually got dash cam footage that people are looking at, to see what actually happened that night. It’s surprising that it survived the crash, because the car, well what’s left of it, was a complete wreck.” She admits.

“Really? When will they tell us about it?” Ashton asks.

“Yeah, uh, either today or tomorrow.” She answers and he nods.

It’s been a few days since Harper’s first been admitted to the hospital, we’ve all been here, some of us have gone home to sleep, and some of us have stayed.

I haven’t been by her side in the sense of being physically next to her, I’ve just been in the corner on the opposite side of the room, I only sit next to her when there is no one in the room.

Not because I give that seat up for other people, not because I don’t want to be here, not because I feel bad, there is no real reason.

I guess I just enjoy the quiet moments between us, because that’s the closest I’ll get to being where we were a couple months back. After the peaceful moment, I feel bad because I’m taking advantage of her, when if she was awake she’d run a mile away from me.

I haven’t gone home, I’ve stayed with her, and I’ll continue to until she wakes up. Whether she likes it or not.

I like to think she can hear me, only because I can say what I want, without her not listening to me or before she storms away. She can listen to my apologies, not just read them.

“Have you told Harp’s university?” I ask Sarah.

“Yeah, I called last night and they just wished her a speedy recovery and stuff like that.” She explains.

“Okay.” I nod.

“Is Harper going to wake up?” Maddie asks the Dr Melvin.

“It’s a high possibility, but you just don’t know, she had a very serious head injury. We don’t even know if she’s gonna be okay when she wakes up, she might not remember anything about the accident or she might remember every single detail.”

“When she wakes up, how long will it take for her to recover and get discharged and all that jazz?” Ashton asks.

“It depends how long she’s in the coma, all of her bones could heal and she’s okay, then she’d be in for a couple more days so we can watch her, but I doubt that will happen.” He explains.

“Ho-”

Erika gets interrupted by the professionals phone ringing.

“Hello? Mhmm. Okay. Right. Really? Oh my goodness. Okay, I’ll tell them now.”

She continues her call for another five minutes, before she ends and puts her phone back in her pocket, and we look at her expectantly.

“I’m not really sure how to say this, but, uh, it i-is believed that Harper tried to commit suicide.”

The room falls silent and everyone’s eyes widen, including mine, my heart pounds in my chest, and a whole load of different emotions run through me.

“Are you sure?” I ask, my voice all shaky.

“Yeah, um, people back at the department looked at the footage of the dash cam, and she just stood there facing the car until it hit her. I’m so sorry.” She says.

As soon as she says that, I can picture the scene, headlights coming at her, tires screeching, her emotionless eyes staring straight through the car, and she just stands there.

“She’s got a history of depression, correct?” Dr Melvin asks.

“Yeah, ever since she was 16.” Sarah answers.

“Is there anything that’s triggered this recently?” He asks and I just pretend to stare into space.

“I didn’t even know she was that bad. She recently broke up with her boyfriend, that’s the only thing I can think of.” Sarah answers.

“Were they serious?” He asks.

“Yeah, very.” She nods.

I glance at Harper for a moment, and every special moments, every small moments, all the kisses we’ve shared, every time we’ve fought, every time we’ve made up with a hug, which then procrastinate into other things.

It’s the little moments in life that matter, sure, the big moments are special and eventful, but the little chaste kisses she’d give me if she was leaving the room or I was talking too much, the tight hugs when I leave her house to go to mine that is just down the road, the way it feels so right hen we hold hands, whether its when we’re out and about, or we’re just chilling in bed. It’s the little things that make my day.

If you take life day by day, it’s those things that’ll make your day just the tiniest bit better.

The big events like actually getting together, moving in together, getting married, having kids, they will always be present and will put a smile on your face, but the small things in between those are the things that really get me.

“How long were they to-,”

I glance back at harper one more time before shaking my head and storming out the room.

Walking out the hospital doors, I make my way towards Boulevard View, a part of me is telling me I should go there and another part is telling me to not go.

After a while I reach the place where the accident took place, and I just stare, not actually believing that my childhood bestfriend, teenage bestfriend, and ex girlfriend, tried to commit suicide the other night, right here.

She was actually in that state of mind, and I, for the first time, didn’t have a clue.

Glancing at a stray piece of debris that’s been left, I glare at it and continue my walk to a place that holds so many memories.

Sitting down on the dusty ground, I rest my hands on my legs, fiddling with my bracelets.

Looking to the spot Harper would always sit, I’d always be on the left and she’d be on the right. There’s actually footprints of where she’s stood, if you look closely you can make out the shape of a hand print.

I miss holding her hand, sure, I hold it when she’s lying unconcious on a bed, but there’s no welcome feeling, we’re so close, yet she feels so far away.

I don’t know how I’d be able to live without this place, I may not go here as often as I used to anymore, but I still like to know it’s here. It’s like it’s sucking my problems out of me with its happy aura, this place has many purposes.

A place for some peace and quiet, to think about things, a place for me and Harper to hang out, it’s also a place in the middle of my problems, I’ll have a problem, I find my solution here, then I solve it.

There isn’t a problem right now, there’s just emotions, and I don’t know how to deal with them because I’ve never felt these in such a deep manner.

I just miss her, her presence in general, I haven’t felt happy since we broke up, I only feel happy once we’ve done a great show, and I’m coming down from the ten minute high after the show.

That isn’t enough time to concrete happiness in my day.

I can’t even imagine a future with someone else, I’ve always pictured her in my future, even since I was a kid, though when I was a kid I thought it’d be just friends, but I still pictured her with me till we die; together.

I don’t want a future with anybody else but her, if that means I die alone, then so be it, but I just need Harper in my life again, I miss the stupid silly texts we’d have daily, brushing shoulders when we’re standing still and I’m bored, the little smile that graces her face when she hears a specific album or one of her favourite songs comes on the radio.  

***

Inserting the key I haven’t used in ages, and walk in to the all too familiar house. Walking through until I reach the utility room, and I open the cupboards under the sink and take out a box, filled with pictures.

Holding the box in my arms, I walk up the stairs, and kick open her door, ignoring all the emotions and memories flooding my mind.

Taking a seat on the floor, placing the box next to me, I lean against her bed and shut my eyes, letting her familiar scent take over me, and a wave of comfort rushes over me.

Opening my eyes again, I rub them and glance at the pile of nostalgia.

If you couldn’t tell, I’m at Harper’s house, the night of the crash, she told me about these pictures, and I thought why not have a little bit of happiness for 15 minutes, then make my life even more sadder by realizing that those times don’t exist anymore.

Isn’t that sad?

To think I’m never gonna have the same relationship with Harper ever again.

Pulling out a single picture, I can’t remember when it was taken, and I can’t work out if we were dating or not at that time, but Harper and I are sitting on a deck chair, she is sitting on my lap, with my arms around her, she’s talking to someone who’s not in frame - probably one of the boys - with a smile on her face, I’m looking at her with a slight smirk and love filling my eyes, a fire is lighting it all up, giving it an orange tinge.  

“Fuck.” I whisper as a few tears fall.

Pulling my phone out, I go to her contact and scroll past the most recent texts, which are very one sided, and stop when I get to our last normal conversation.

Luke: hey  

Harper hi

Luke: when we have a child, can we name it Luke Jr?

Harper: wtf? No! More like Whiskers or Mr Fluffington

Luke: they’re cat names, babe

Harper: exactly

Luke: I hate you

Harper: right back at you, you little shit. You’re cute little shit though

Luke: isn’t it weird how the person you are gonna marry is out there living on this planet?

Harper: yeah, I guess

Luke: do you ever wonder what they’re doing?

Harper: no, I already know what he’s doing, texting me

Luke: awww, babe

Harper: he just went out, so now I’m texting you

Luke: …

Harper: jk, you’re the one for meeeeeee

Luke: love you xx  

Harper: you idiot, I love you too xx

Luke: I forgot to turn the oven on for my dinner, sometimes I think I’m an idiot

Harper: yeah, I do that a lot

Luke: forget to turn the oven on?

Harper: no, think you are an idiot

Luke: you’re so mean to me :(

Harper: you wanna go out as an apology and so you don’t have to cook?

Luke: sure, I’ll be over in a sec

Harper: you wanna eat what my mum made after?

Luke: what did she make?

Harper: me

She’s one of a kind that girl.

And I love her.

Even if we’re not together anymore.

And I’ll continue to love her, because I told her I’d never stop.

I pick the picture up and fold it a little until it fits into my wallet, placing my wallet back in my pocket. I put my face in my hands, and wonder how just one person can make me such a mess.

But I wouldn’t want it to be anyone else.

Because to get here, I had to make all these great memories, and those memories are with the one person I love the most.

[lighthouseofthewanderess]

Death

Did I tell you I was supposed to die at 10? My stars stated it. Then it became 20. My universe swore by it. My grandma fretted about it every year. She used to tell me secretly whenever she visited me. Said that the minute she found problems in my mother’s marriage, she checked out my kundli too. And it wasn’t good news. It stated I’ll be living on borrowed time in an interval of 10 years, throughout my life. Every decade the time will come when I either just brush past death, or submit to the design of the cosmos. I am not a bit religious, but this is a thought I was invested in. Not because it was about my time running out. Just because it made me realize how I feel about it inside and how I go about its counterpart, life, knowing that bit. Death wasn’t a big scary monster to me, it was always right around the corner. I see people take time to get where I am, and that’s okay. Maybe they’ve been scarred, maybe it is a distant worry. But I’m very aware of it. You just know, that when it’s time, it’s time. Kind of like Final Destination.

Mala Mami was a friend of my mothers. We met at a bajan party; they were more about networking than the music. I would tag along as well. Her family had been living in the US for about 10 years. In that stretch of time, they had bought a beautiful house at the end of a cul-de-sac. Here is where I first learnt to fold a saree -- in the basement with Mala Mami in one end instructing me with yards of cloth in between. Here is where I was awestruck by solar lanterns.They way they saved up light to shine in the dark. I want to be a solar lantern. Every time we visited, I would pay special attention to the walkway, saying hello to the lanterns on the way in.   Mala Mami’s husband could be a hero in a movie. He scrapped bits to make his education work here. He put his mind to it, pushed on, and on. At the end of that struggle, he made it into Boeing and gave the life he wanted to his wife and two kids. I still remember how his wife spoke about him, doted on what an amazing life they’ve built. Through the long introduction, I found uncle stand on the backyard porch, watering the garden with a hose. One arm was locked on his hip and he scrutinized the flowers in the afternoon light. Hmpf he used to go when the flow of water was interrupted. His belly would stick out more at that. He didn’t like a single thing to go differently than expected. And when he laughed it sounded like it was coming from a distant place, heaven maybe. This was a Friday.

The next Friday we met them, I couldn’t see uncle on the porch. He was like clock-work, it seemed unusual. Mala Mami opened the door and ran off to finish off some chores. Inside sat uncle, wrapped up in a blanket. He had been diagnosed with cancer. His wife waited on him at all hours, and his two children tried to process that their perfect life would now have a wrinkle. The third Friday, Mala Mami’s face looked like she had tanned horribly. Her little eyes had lost the spark and her frizzy hair framed her into a look of dissonance. She smiled too wide - Thank god you’re here. Come see my husband. I didn’t know if she was relieved, or happy that we made it in time to see him. It looked like both. Uncle was on the bed, he couldn’t even get up a little to see who had come visiting. And the fourth Friday, well, they weren’t even home. The solar lanterns came on while we waited, and then we left. He had gone into coma. Mom called up to find out and Mala Mami was barely keeping herself together. She said her kids weren’t with her and she felt alone for the first time in her life. She cried over the phone that God didn’t give her enough strength for this part. The next Friday, was the last time we would see him. We went to the hospital, my mom holding my hand and tightening it every now at then. I could see the apprehension on her face. I was too young to see this, but what was she going to say instead? That people just switch to a new world? It was always tough love with her, always the bitter truth. It was better finding out years later that the stork never delivers the baby. That death isn’t the last stop on the bus ride.

The doctors were counting minutes. A group of 6-7 people were with him. All the painkillers had been given to make sure he was in no pain. The amount of weight he lost was shocking. The bed looked too big for him. His dark, frail body was just the same as a breathing corpse. Mala Mami still searched for her kids but they were nowhere to be found. He died without knowing. His wife returned home. Only now, it was a big scary building. The garden was browning, the weeds had grown out over the 2 weeks. The solar lanterns were the only things that looked like they had life. We were with her then. Inside, the house felt cold. Mala Mami sat down beside the table lamp. Her daughter walked in, said hello to us and walked right off to her room. She didn’t even look at her mother. The long silence that followed was broken by her son. As he crossed us he mumbled to her ‘get drunk, it will help’. Those last words got to Mala Mami who was holding herself strong for this whole time. She wallowed in memories, of how her kids had no heart, how there’s no place for her in their life anymore. In all of a month, her life had taken a sudden turn. We saw the woman before us curl into a child and cry night after night. Others saw a rich widow who could live out her days without having to work a single day. They were oblivious to the cold-carpeted floors, children who became strangers, and a dead garden. All they saw were the solar lanterns that lit up cheerfully. I have seen what time can do. It heals, it breaks, it teaches. I see it in the stories  the people I’ve crossed paths with, I see it. The 4-year old twin who was bitten by a snake and couldn’t reach the hospital in the right time. The boy who crossed a pumpkin patch at the wrong time. The life of a suicide survivor. Of a simple slip in the bathroom ending up in organ failure. An existence that lasted all of 12 minutes. In all of it, I see how wrong we are about time. It isn’t a human-invented thing. Sure, days, years, and minutes could be. But a moment to the universe is the same as any other moment and if something is meant to happen, it just will.

Towards the death of my first relationship, I was standing on my balcony with a phone in hand. Crying to a boy I thought was my life. And if he wasn’t mine, I didn’t want my life either. No, I’m not that person anymore, that girl was plain stupid. Anyways, I stood near the railing, half climbing as I waited for him to say something, anything. The midnight air was cool on my tears as I started shivering. I tried to imagine my body hitting the gate below, or getting scratched by the rose thorns on the 3rd floor first. Would I just be a broken body or would I die? Who would find me first, the watchman or my mom? What would others say about my selfish decision? I was nearing 20, it didn’t mean anything. But if I were do to it, I knew it would work. My mom heard my sobbing, got the door open and pulled me in. She tried to save the relationship for me and then after the call ended she looked at me dead in the eye and said ‘this isn’t the boy you’ll marry. I won’t allow it.’ It wasn’t anything unexpected but the shame of having her find out, of seeing me in the balcony all made me wish I could disappear at wish. Borrowed time ticks from now. The next year, I was on my bike in front of my gate. I was fishing out my phone from the bag when my earphones fell out. I heard a grumble and saw that a truck with iron rods was reversing straight into my back. I quickly accelerated and at the same time the truck braked. I sent a prayer up to whoever made my earphones fall out. Not a long time from then, I took the stairs up because the lift wasn’t working. It was when I left home, odd. I had gone to buy eggs to make myself some nice breakfast. Mom wasn’t at home, I was free to do whatever I wanted. I misplaced my left foot. The floor was wet from the morning cleaning. I slipped and fell 4 steps backward, hitting my skull on another stair. I saw stars, gathered myself up and felt my head. It was perfectly fine. The eggs however, had broken. Borrowed time. Everything started feeling like it could be the end of me. Doing ballet in the bathroom, well that’s risky. Me standing on a chair putting up mango leaves for festivities. Why go that far, even crossing the road is a potential suicide mission. What can anyone do? You certainly can’t live in fear, within 4 padded walls and bright light. Well, my way was to accept it. Yes, I might just die today. What’s my next plan of action. Live today like there’s no tomorrow? Not particularly. In case I do die, when they find me, let me wear my Sunday best. The days I put effort into my outfit are the days I feel a funny bone go ‘tick-tock’. Then the face people remember seeing the last wouldn’t be that bad as me on a normal day with zero cares given. Yes, I dream of dying very often. My grandpa butchering me with an axe in the backyard, in the moonlight. Blood draining into the clean chlorine water from a cannonball gone wrong. And yes, sometimes in the middle of what I’m doing I look up and check the time. Maybe it’s that one vulnerable moment where something could happen. I try being alert and true enough an odd thing would occur. Someone randomly handing me a peanut shake when they knew I was allergic. A coconut crashing and splitting open right after I take a pause.

The good side of borrowed time is that it is true to everyone. You’re never singled out -- for good or worse -- in the eyes of the universe. And embracing it has made me grateful for people, things, and feelings almost every day. To sit at a bus stop and see the city run about. To step out when the first drops of rain hit. To just look at the person in front of you and take them in your memory. What if this is the last thing I see, worth seeing? It makes me leave a note on someone’s desk just to tell them I miss them, that they’re pretty, that it’s going to get better. It makes me send that text without overthinking how I’ll face them the next day. What if I don’t get to tell them? Multiply that into 100 and that’s a good enough reason to haunt people after my unexpected yet inevitable death.