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originalhybridloverfics · 3 years ago

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I'll Always Remember You

Summary: [AU Canon Divergence - if Serkan had met his daughter in the wake of a true tragedy]

Serkan's world is turned to shambles with devastating news. Mistakes etched in stone. Consumed with regrets he has to find a way to survive and be the father his daughter needs him to be in the wake of her mother's death when on he wants is Eda, smiling back at him.

[This will break your Edser heart. Consider yourself warned.]

A/N: I apologize in advance if this fic makes this cry but I did warn you. It's Serkan and Kiraz heavy with Edser dreams and flashbacks.Also I am no expert on the legal matters or turkey funerals and I am sure I got it wrong on so many levels and for that I apologize once again in advance.

“Serkan Bey!” Layla rushed into his office with an urgent look. The telephone clutched in her hand.

“Not now, Leyla!” Serkan said sharply. “I am in the middle of a meeting.”

“But Serkan, they say it’s urgent and won’t stop calling until they get in touch with you.” Leyla insisted clutching the phone tight in her hands.

Serkan’s annoyance was high. He had been getting calls all morning from an unknown number and he ignored it because it was more than possible it was reporters and he did not want to deal with those vultures today.

He has been having a bad week ever since he woke up in a cold sweat, his heart hurting. He went to the doctor and was told there was nothing wrong with his heart. Furthermore, he couldn’t explain it but there was an empty feeling inside him. An emptiness he never felt before.

He forced a smile for his clients. “I’m sorry for the interruption.”

He held his hand out for the phone and Layla nearly tripped over her feet in her haste to hand him the phone.

“Hello,” he spoke sharply into the phone.

“Am I speaking with Serkan Bolat?” A woman’s voice echoed down the line. Her tone is professional.

“Yes, you are. What is this about?” Serkan asked.

“My name is Ayla Yavus and I am with Child Protective Services. I am calling on the behalf of a young child. Kiraz-”

“I don’t understand.” Serkan cut her off. “Why are you calling me? I have no children.”

“Well, according to Kiraz’s relatives. You do. You are from their understanding her biological father.”

Serkan pushed his chair out abruptly and walked out onto the terrace. Layla followed, closing the door behind him.

“Explain,” Serkan demanded.

“Kiraz is five years old. She was being raised by her mother in Italy unfortunately, the child’s mother was in a fatal car accident a little over a week ago. We had her in our custody for only a few hours before placing her in the temporary custody of her mother’s aunt.:

Serkan’s heart pounded, fear lancing through him. “And her mother’s name?”

“Eda Yildiz.”

Serkan’s phone clattered to the floor as she spoke the one name he would have given anything for her not to have spoken.

His knees gave way beneath him and he caught himself on the ledge, sinking to the ground, he turned pressing his back against it.

“Serkan Bey!” Leyla called out in alarm. “Are you alright?”

“Tell everyone to go home.” his voice was low barely above a whisper.

“Serkan Bey?” Leyla questioned.

Serkan looked up at her and Leyla fell back a step by the devastation written on his face. “I want everyone out of the building. Now!” His voice was loud, like a clap of thunder causing Leyla to jump.

There was something so terrifying about his demeanor that Leyla immediately rushed to clear the building.

Serkan didn’t move, he felt like the world was falling away and not in the good way he remembers when he was with Eda.

He felt like everything around him was dying while he was left to suffer in agony in a world without light and sunshine, without flowers and kindness. Without his star and the beauty that brought him to life.

“Serkan Bey,” Leyla returned, speaking tentatively. “Everyone is gone.”

“I want you to leave too,” he said not looking up.

“Serkan Bey, I don’t feel comfortable leaving you in this state.” Leyla protested, fighting back her fear of his anger.

Serkan looked up at her. “I don’t care what makes you uncomfortable, Leyla. I want to be left alone,”

Leyla didn’t want to leave him. Especially, after witnessing the devastation in his eyes but if she continued to refuse Serkan’s anger would erupt.

“Okay, if you need anything. I am a call away.” Leyla reluctantly grabbed her things and left the building.

Serkan wasn’t certain how long he stayed there, but he felt the wind pick up as the sky began to rumble.

With an effort he pushed himself up, grabbing his phone from the floor, and headed inside.

Mindlessly, he climbed the stairs to his office, and pulling out a bottle of liquor off the shelf he kept for guests, he grabbed a glass, setting it down on his desk.

He moved to his safe, pulling out a box, not bothering to close the safe he moved back to his desk taking a seat behind it. He sat the box down and opened it.

Side by side incased in the fabric were his and Eda’s engagement ring, his platinum band with her name inscribed into it, and sparkling flower engagement ring.

He reached, his chest tightening as his fingers brushed her ring.

Serkan swallowed hard, the phone call haunting him. Eda was gone, leaving behind a child.

Their child. A child he never even knew about.

How was he supposed to handle this? He could barely hold it together after learning that the only woman he ever loved was gone.

How was he supposed to be strong for a child and raise her? What was he supposed to say to her? How would he look at her and see her mother and not break down every fucking time?

He was on a cliff and he felt like he was going to slip off it at any given moment.

His phone rang again and he reached for it blindly, not checking the caller id. “Hello,” his voice was hoarse.

“Mr. Bolat, this is Ayla Yavus. I’m with-” “I know, we spoke earlier.” Serkan cut her off, he pulled the phone away to clear his voice and sound more presentable.

“I thought I give you some time to deal with the news from earlier. I know this is difficult-”

“Difficult? It’s impossible. You have no idea what this feels like.”

“Maybe so but you need to pull yourself together and gather your strength. You have a little girl who is going to depend on you for everything.” Ms. Ayla replied matter-of-factly.

“How is this going to work?” Serkan asked. “Do you bring her to me? Do I just take custody? Do I come to her?”

“As I said during our first phone call, currently, Kiraz is in the custody of her mother’s Aunt, Ayfer Yildiz. While it is believed you are the father of Kiraz we will need to perform a DNA test and a background check to ensure it is safe for the child to be in your care.”

“It’s my child. Of course, she will be in my care,” What the hell did they take him for?

“After all this is taken care of you will come and take your daughter into your custody. Now, if you do not wish to take responsibility you can sign over your rights and custody will be given to Ms. Ayfer.”

“No, I won’t be giving up my parental rights.” Serkan hadn’t even seen a picture of his daughter but she was the last thing tethering him to Eda. There was no way he would let her go.

He knew absolutely nothing about raising a child but he knew he would do anything to protect her and give her a safe home. He would love her as much as he loved her mother.

“Thank you for your time, Serkan Bey. We will be in touch.” the line clicked.

Serkan dropped his phone onto the desk and he reached for the bottle of liquor and filled the glass in front of him.

He made a few calls after downing the glass. Using his contacts to find out if a funeral has taken place and if not where and when. He needed immediate results.

When he ended the call he poured himself another drink and another.

Later he was awakened to the sound of his phone ringing. It was his contact calling to tell him that the Yildiz family was returning to Istanbul.

It was all Serkan needed to know. Ayfer was having Eda brought back to Instanbul to be buried next to her parents.

He didn’t know how he was going to bring himself to attend the funeral but he owed Eda that much and so much more.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

Two days later his head pounding and feeling like he had the worst hangover of his life, he was pulling up outside the cemetery, sunglasses over his face, dress in his best black suit.

He stepped out of his car and saw a gathering of people. There was a lot. He saw people from his company. Serkan wasn’t surprised. Nearly everyone who ever met Eda became enamored with her. In his eyes, she had to be the most beloved woman in the world.

He scans the crowd and nearly froze, Melo stood next to Ayfer, a little girl in between them, she had her face, buried in Melo’s side, her shoulders shaking as she cried. His heart pounded painfully in his chest, his eyes bounced around and landed on the closed casket and he froze, ice keeping him still.

Then as he locked eyes with Melo, he was moving.

He turned away. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t be here.

A hand landed on his shoulder.

His eyes snapped up and Engin stood before him. A frown on his face. “Leyla called and Ceren told Piril about today’s services. I’m sorry brother.”

“I can’t do this.” Serkan shook his head.

“You have to,” Engin tightened his grip. “For Eda. You will do this. I know it means little right now but I am here. Right beside you.”

For Eda.

The words echoed in his head and he nodded slowly. This wasn’t about him. It was about Eda and the respect she deserved from him.

He moved forward slowly, seeing more people he knew but couldn’t bring himself to greet them. There were art life employees, Eda’s friends, Efe. Her grandmother and so many more people but he ignored them. He ignored everyone.

He walked up to the casket and placed his hand upon the wood, his mind working as an enemy against him as he recalled with perfect clarity what it was like to touch her skin.

His eyes slid shut and he could picture her so clearly, the light shining behind her, her smile bright, eyes shining, her dark hair falling down her back in long luxurious waves, her skin perfectly tanned.

His knees grew weak, an ache in his chest. He couldn’t breathe, his vision darkened.

“Serkan.” Engin was there wrapping his arm around his shoulder, steadying him. “Breathe, brother. Breathe.”

Serkan shook his head. “I can’t! I cannot. What right do I have to breathe when she isn’t.” He shook Engin off and moved back toward his car. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t watch them put his star in the ground.

“Brother!” Engin was hot on his tail.

Others had noticed his pain but it went unnoticed by Serkan. Babanne was angry that a Bolat had come and was being blocked by Efe. Ayfer wanted to make Serkan leave believing he had no right to be there but her path was blocked by Ceren and Fifi wanted to tear into him but was being stopped by Melo who stood in front of her Eda’s little angel holding tightly to her hand.

“You don’t understand, Engin!” Serkan whirled around. “She was my breath and now she’s gone. I cannot be here. It’s too real and I need it not to be.”

Serkan’s fell back against his car, and his breaths came quickly. He recognized he was on the verge of a panic attack.

He slumped leaning against the vehicle heavily.

“Serkan, breathe,” Engin said and tried to show Serkan by taking a breath and releasing it slowly,

Serkan shook his head.

“Serkan,” Melo’s voice appeared suddenly and he froze, his eyes went past her to the little girl just a foot away, her cheeks wet with tears.

Melo crouched in front of Serkan and took his hand in hers. “Son-in-law. You need to breathe,”

Serkan looked at her blankly. “I don’t want to.”

“I know.” Melo saw the pain in his eyes, he looked so lost. She knew him. She never truly understood why he and Eda couldn’t make it work. But what she knew without a doubt was that Serkan and Eda had never stopped loving each other. “But you have to. Eda would want you to.”

“Eda,” Serkan’s voice trembled on her name. “She’s gone.”

“I know but she loved you. She loved you until her last breath and she would want you to be okay and for that to happen you have to breathe.”

Serkan nodded slowly and took a shallow breath and released it, he did it again and again and again until he started breathing normally just as a soft voice penetrated the air, the voice of the little girl.

“Melo,” the child sounded so heartbroken and lost.

His eyes snapped back to the little girl. “Kiraz?”

Kiraz stepped closer to Melo.

Melo’s lips trembled. “I see social services contacted you,”

Serkan nodded, frozen.

“Are you well enough to meet her?” Melo asked.

“I’m never gonna be ok again but I am well enough.” More so Serkan wanted to look in his daughter’s eyes and see Eda. He needed something solid that connected him to her to hold onto.

Melo nodded and gently took the little girl’s hand and urged her forward, “Come, Kiraz, I want you to meet someone very important. This here is Serkan Bolat, he was a very precious friend of your mother.”

The girl sniffled, taking small steps forward until she stood in front of Serkan. “Are you sad, too?” Kiraz asked. “Mom’s gone and she’s not coming back.” the little girl lifted a hand to her heart. “Does your heart hurt like mine?”

Serkan couldn’t keep the sob in even if he wanted to, his child’s heartbreaking words tearing it from his chest.

“Oh, Serkan,” Melo murmured squeezing his hand.

“Do you want a hug?” Kiraz asked as her shoulders shook. “Mom always said hugs were like bandaids for sadness.”

Serkan couldn’t bring himself to respond as he pressed his hand over his heart that was so broken beyond repair he didn’t know how it was still beating.

Kiraz tentatively approached Serkan and wrapped his arms around his neck.

Serkan was shocked and stilled but then this feeling overcame him and he couldn’t explain it. All he knew was he was connected to this girl and even if he hadn’t know the truth he would have felt it.

He wrapped his hands around the girl softly, and he heard her sniffle as her tears drip onto his neck, her shoulders started to shake. “My heart won’t stop hurting.”

“It will be alright,” he found himself trying to comfort his daughter, stroking her hair and rubbing her back. He didn’t think he was going to be alright again but his child, Eda’s child needed to believe that it would be. She needed someone to be strong for her and hold her when she needed it.

Serkan didn’t think it was possible but the pain in his chest became worst. He wanted Eda and he wanted to protect his little girl from the pain she was feeling.

The world was too cruel and he didn’t understand how life could be so brutal and unforgiving to take Eda away from him and especially away from the little girl in his arms.

“Shh, it’s going to be okay. Your heart hurts now but this will pass. In time you will find it won’t hurt as much.” he said and began whispering soothing words, even as his voice choked.

“How do you know?” She pulled back to look at him with a tear-stained face, and devastated eyes.

Serkan wanted more than anything to be able to answer her but he couldn’t. He said the words to comfort her but they were empty. He was certain the pain ripping through him would never stop.

Serkan looked desperately to Melo for help.

Melo moved closer and ran her hand soothingly through Kiraz’s hair. “Because pain like this doesn’t last forever, we live through it, we survive and it makes us stronger.” Melo smiled weakly, a tear sliding down her cheek. “The most important thing you have to remember, love, is that your mother will never truly be gone.” She placed her hand over her heart. “As long as you keep her in your heart she will always be with you.”

Kiraz’s shoulders started shaking again. a fresh wave of tears overtaking her and she reached for Melo.

Melo took her in her arms and stood. “Son-in-law, I know it’s hards but you should be here.”

Serkan stared at the broken girl in her arms and he nodded, forcing himself back to his feet on unsteady legs, he followed Melo back to the proceedings.

Engin kept close to him, ready to be there for him if need be.

During the proceedings, a small hand slipped into his and he clung tightly to it, he looked down at her and her shoulders were shaking as she cried silently.

He ignored Ayfer’s and Babanne’s glares and lowered himself to the ground, offering her a shoulder to cry on and she took it.

It was then as he watched the woman he loved being buried, holding the child created in his arms that he knew with absolute certainty he wasn’t going anywhere. He would do anything to protect his daughter from any more suffering.

He will never be able to make up for his mistakes with her mother but he could, protect her, raise her, love her. Do right by her.

And truth be told he needed her. He needed something to tie him to Eda.

Her small body leaning into his side was the only thing keeping him grounded.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

Melo looked around Kiraz in her arms as she prepared to get in the car and leave. She looked toward Serkan’s car, knowing she needed to talk to him. There was so much that needed to be discussed. Especially regarding Kiraz.

He wasn’t by his car but she saw Engin and Piril, standing next to it.

She looked back to Eda’s fresh grave and her breath hitched. Serkan was there, kneeling in the grass, his head bowed.

“Isn’t mom’s friend going to leave, too?” Kiraz sniffled.

“I don’t think so,” Melo shook her head. “I think he wants to stay awhile with her.”

Kiraz squirmed out of her arms. “I want to stay too. He’s hurting. You’re not supposed to leave someone alone when they’re hurt.”

“This is a different kind of hurt,” Melo reaches to take her hand and usher her in the car but Kiraz was already moving away from her back toward Serkan.

She watched as Kiraz moved in front of her father, her little hands reaching up to wipe his tears before she put her arms around him.

Serkan went rigid but then he was folding forward and she watched as his whole body shook with grief, holding tightly to his daughter.

Melo lifted her hand to her mouth, her hand shaking.

She didn’t know how any of them were supposed to get through this. She was barely holding it together but she had to for Kiraz.

Nothing was ever going to be like before again. It couldn’t.

She only hoped Serkan and Kiraz would make it out on the other side. Together.

A/N: Did you cry? If you did I'm sorry. My muse is evil but I am a slave to her.

#sen cal kapimi #edser #fanfic #eda and serkan #eda yildiz #serkan bolat #serkan x kiraz #kiraz bolat #edserxkiraz fic

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andreils-keys · 4 years ago

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kay so ive been taking prompts from my instagram and

why would you tell me not to kill one and if i do to bring him back please you’re taking all the joy out of writing >:(

anyways lets get into it <3 (tw: small mention of domestic abuse)

(disclaimer yes i am a kandreil shipper :))

andrew is cursed in the same way blue was sort of where if he tells someone that he loves them they’ll die (yes i changed it a bit)

but instead of doing the whole 'you're cursed zap magic' thing (bc i don't think it'd fit very well in the aftgverse) im gonna try something else

andrew had some pretty shitty foster homes when he was young

but the worst one was a small house by a family-owned ice cream shop

he remembers the ice cream shop very vividly. it was where he went when his foster mother was out working or drinking. it was where he went to feel safe.

he was pretty young, maybe 4 ? 5 ? impressionable. in that stage where santa claus and the boogie man were real, where hiding under a blanket protected you from nightmares. (he learned pretty quickly that hiding under the blanket did not protect you from anything.

he was bashed and battered with fists and words, words that cursed his very being and proclaimed that to love him was to die.

he was so young

he was only a child

and he did what children do best

he believed

there was a time when he doubted

another foster parent, a run down house made beautiful with love and mismatched furniture

the road to healing is rocky and dangerous, but easier to traverse when you have someone behind you

finally, he let himself love

he let his foster mother in, little by little, and he thought: maybe im not a curse

and he said: i love you

the day after, she died in a car crash

the car brutalized

her body brutalized

his heart brutalized

coincidence? he says out loud at the entrance of another foster home. because it needs to be said. because lies always become crystal clear when said out loud.

bc of this he's never directly expressed love for anyone and he tends to distance himself from people just to make sure there's 0 risk of him causing someone's death

but if he does care for someone he shows this through actions (no i love yous because that's what he believes caused his foster mothers death)

he's always had people he's cared about, people he's wanted to protect and keep safe

but ever since the car crash, hes never had anyone hes wanted to say i love you to

until

[enter kevin day]

the first person that consumed him was kevin, the boy that sought him out in high school with desperation in his eyes, raving about a sport that had made andrews days in juvie a little more bearable.

the man that always appeared on television with a cardboard smile stamped onto his face, always a step behind riko moriyama, always hiding in his shadow.

the man that inexplicably made yet another appearance in andrews life, this time with a shattered hand and a plea for help.

the man that pushed and pulled andrew just enough to get him through another day, another week.

and then neil, so different from kevin and yet so alike, as sudden as a gunshot, as tantalizing as death.

the boy that's as invested in riko and kevin as andrew is.

the boy that is impenetrable and distrusting, the boy that lets no one in.

at first andrew thinks he's safe. as long as neil doesn't let anyone in, that means andrew won't have to let him in. and kill him.

aha sike. turns out neil is the trusting-no-one-but-andrew-minyard-and-kevin-day type

the three of them form a twisted complicated pyramid; each side leaning against the other two. immovable. strong. inseparable, unless andrew deliberately pushes himself away when the feeling ballooning in his chest is too much.

(although he will always get pulled back in. the gravity of neil and kevin is too strong for andrew to stay away.)

he promises to protect them because that's what he does for the people he cares about.

but falling in love is a whole other ball game.

andrew is so afraid.

afraid to love them, afraid to let them in.

he knows he can't allow it; every time he thinks of how much he feels for them, he remembers the car, the shattered windows, the pieces of glass tipped with blood.

but andrew is only human.

even if he tells himself not to fall in love, the heart and body tend to ignore the mind.

he let’s himself be selfish

the hard press of kevin's lips against his, the gentle tug of neils fingers threaded through his hair, a hand clamped against neils neck and the other gripping kevin's arm.

that is all andrew allows

he doesn't mind if kevin and neil go gallivanting off somewhere on their own (s a f e l y; if those idiots get taken by the yakuza it would be extremely inconvenient for andrew)((andrew: dammit now i have to save them from the mafia nicky: you don't have t- andrew: no im gonna)), even if it prods unpleasantly at a sensitive point in his heart. if they're happy, hes happy.

(well, not quite happy. satisfied is the proper word. and he supposes that's the most he can ask for.)

he doesn't tell them about the nightmares. the dreams of fire and blood and twisted metal, of fists and a curse and a small, dark room. more often than not neil will wake to find andrew sliding out of his bunk and going to the kitchen for a bowl of ice cream.

neil won't pry, but he'll wake kevin and they'll join andrew in the kitchen, standing on the other side of the counter from andrew with their shoulders pressed together, a reminder to each other and andrew that they are there for each other.

and then neil disappears. like a dream. like smoke.

andrew took his eyes off neil for one second, and neil vanished in the crowd of angry fans.

they search and search but neil is gone.

all they find is neils exy racket lying on the ground in pieces, broken from the stampede of fans.

andrew whispers, the words dredged from a desperate, vulnerable place inside him: i love you. neil, i love you. come back to me. come back to kevin. come back to us.

the next day, the fbi tells them that they found neils gym bag. it was covered with tire tracks and spattered with blood.

they couldn’t find neil.

and the pyramid falls.

the grief and guilt and heartbreak andrew feels is unparalleled. never has he felt so broken. never has he felt so dirty. he did this. he did this.

kevin insists neil is still alive. lost and floating, but alive

but andrew knows better.

his nightmares get worse. sprinkled in with the mauled car and heavy fists is a shattered exy stick, a gym bag dripping blood, an unreachable figure with red hair and a slash of a smile.

andrew spirals.

he refuses to speak to anyone. even kevin. he'll stay with kevin and press his palm into the side of kevin's neck, his pulse grounding andrew and keeping him in the here and now, but he will not speak.

cabeswater brought gansey back right and i feel like the one closest to magic would be renee (thank you neils jortventures fairy magic huzzah) except she doesn't use magic.

so remember how she was affiliated with a gang when she was young

there was a member of the gang that continued to reach out to her, especially once they escaped from the gang a little after renee did

renee did respond to their messages, but she tried not to initiate conversation because they were part of her old life and she was living and loving her new one.

essentially she was nice enough not to cut them out completely.

unfortunately the kid got caught up in another gang that was closely associated with the butcher of baltimore

when nathan dies they text renee about how their gang is in pieces because the butcher is dead.

renee isnt there to receive the message right away (she and andrew were sparring, as they were keen to do now that neil was gone and andrew was out of sorts) and kevin is the one to catch the word butcher when the notification pops up

he scrambles for renees phone and sees: the butcher is dead.

he is so relieved because the butcher, the man kevin always had to fear and avoid, is dead

and then he starts to think

neil’s father was the butcher. does this have something to do with neil? was the butcher the one that took neil? if the butcher is dead, does that mean neil is still alive?

it’s a bit of a stretch, but kevin is willing to believe anything if it means that neil is alive

he tells andrew

he doesn't expect andrew to do anything but he still wants to tell him, just so that andrew will know, just so that kevin himself can taste the words.

kevin asks renee if they can reach out and she's like wtf y'all doing going through my phone but she understands how hard it hit them, andrew especially, and if it'll help them she'll go along

they meet up with the kid

renee seems nice enough, but andrew can tell how strained she is by the way she keeps cracking her knuckles one by one

they get the info from the kid about a red haired blue eyed cut up burned kid

kevin is distraught about the cut up burned part

andrew is close to vomiting from a whirlwind of relief (they never said he was dead) and denial and fear for neil

he refuses to get his hopes up; he said the cursed words. he saw the blood on neils’s gym bag. he saw the shattered exy stick. (or was that a dream? his nightmares and reality are so tightly interwoven he can hardly tell what's real)

the kid warns kevin and andrew that the last time they saw neil was in the basement and that the probablity of him still being there is relatively low

kevin makes a sort of impatient gesture at the kid and they bring kevin and andrew to the house (renee stays behind; she made a lame excuse about needing to make a phone call but she just wanted to give them space, either to reunite with neil or grieve their loss a second time)

from the outside, it’s a nice looking house and it doesn’t look threatening in the least, but andrew knows how deceiving appearances can be

once they go inside everything is in shambles. the couch overturned, the tv screen cracked in multiple places, ceiling plaster and pieces of porcelain all over the counters and dining table

the kid points them to the basement

kevin is the first to go down

andrew is surprised mainly because kevin is usually always so careful

andrew follows more warily, afraid to find nothing, afraid to find neil; afraid to have his heart broken all over again, afraid of the prospect that he has wasted his entire life living a lie.

he reaches the basement to find kevin wrapped around a small beat up, bruised, burnt, and shivering lump.

neil is hurt and bloody, and it drives a stake through andrew’s heart, but the fact that neil is breathing and alive alive alive causes a different kind of pain, the unique pain of relief and sorrow and love swirled together.

kevin is stroking neils hair and very obviously trying not to have a panic attack and andrew goes to them

sits down

both kevin and neil look up at him, and andrew watches as some of the fear and pain in their eyes fades.

he can feel the words bubbling up and he wants to say them, to scream them, but they are stuck inside his throat, twisted around his tongue.

it is a language andrew has taught himself to unlearn.

the road to healing is rocky and dangerous, but easier to traverse when you have someone behind you

it’s even easier when you have two people behind you, people who have seen what you have seen, people who make an effort to understand you.

andrew eventually does say it.

the words, no longer cursed, are still clumsy and fall in a messy jumble at his feet

but there they are, light as a cloud, heavy as a storm:

i love you

#aftg #all for the game #aftg hc #aftg headcanon #aftg headcanons #kandreil #kandreil hc #trc #bluesey #this wasnt supposed to be angst #and then it turned into kandreil angst #and honestly im not complaining

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stardancerluv · 4 years ago

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To the Rescue...

Warning...blood...holding Cassandra hostage...language...

This is to @queenofgotham800 I hope you like this!

You were sitting curled up on the sofa reading a book beside Roman, who was reading the paper. You kept on shooting him glances. You were enjoying your book but Roman had been terribly busy all week as he tried to get his hands back on the diamond that Victor had lost.

He finally slid you a look and smiled. “Hi baby.” He tossed the paper onto the coffee table. He beckoned to you. “Come here.”

“I was hoping you would say that.” You put your bookmark in the book, then happily you climbed into his lap.

He was wearing the joke pajama’s that you and Victor had bought him for his birthday. His face was splashed across the soft creamy material.

You sighed as he wrapped an arm around you. He brushed some hair our of your face as he looked down at you. A warm smile was spread across his face. The stress of earlier in the week was not there.

“By tonight’s end, we will have that diamond and we will be unstoppable.” He whispered.

“Finally.” You took his hand and kissed his palm. “We will have to celebrate.”

He smirked. “We will certainly do that.”

The phone rang, the sound disrupting the calm and peaceful silence in the penthouse.

He bent down and kissed you. “I better answer that.”

“Ok.” Moving, you watched as he quickly strode to his private line was.

You don’t know why but something worried you about the sudden call. You stayed close.

****

Roman, was excited. Victor was probably about to give the news he has been wanting all week.

“She betrayed you boss. She betrayed you.” Shock knocked him.

“Are you sure?”

How could she? Her mother had been horribly shot down on the streets. He had come by her her not long after. He raised her as if she was his own. Gave her small jobs around the club till he discovered that she could sing. Then she was headline performer at the club. He also set her up with her own place once she was old enough. He wanted to give her a better apartment when that entire neighborhood went sound but she wouldn’t budge so he had made sure a few of his men would keep an eye on her, make sure she was safe. Victor had to be wrong. Not his little bird. She was the only person he cared about besides you.

“Your little bird’s a fucking rat.”

Uncontrollable sobs over took him. He couldn’t stop the pain this caused in him.

“You want me to kill her?”

“No.” Anger soon filled him, replacing the pain. “No. No.” He swallowing back the tears. Swallowing the pain. “I’ll come to you.”

“You’re the only one who fucking matters.” He barked when be turned and he saw you. He stormed off then without another word. You got dressed. He could not go alone. Not in that state.

*****

As the car pulled up, you saw him jump down from the back of a pickup truck.

“I told you the hang back.” You shook your head.

You watched as he walked over. There was a fluidity to his stride you only saw when he took care of things related to business.

You got out of the car and met him half away.

“Y/N what the fuck are you doing here?” His voice was dark and deep, there was an edge that had never been directed at you.

Tears fell from your eyes before you could stop them. Worry twisted and turned in your stomach. “I...I...” you twisted your fingers. “I didn’t want you to do this alone.”

He came over you. His blue eye only softened a little. “I can’t make you live...but I don’t want them hurting you.”

“I’ll stay safe...I promise.”

“Good.”

*****

“Follow him!”

You demanded, when you saw the Roman’s rolls peel off.

Anxious...you watched as Harley appeared with her roller skates. Fear stuck your heart. The driver slowed and stopped..she went on when she saw it was just you.

“Ok, go after them!”

“Nah, I don’t want to die to day.”

“You son of a bitch!” You screamed. Tearing out of the car, you began running after what you saw. One of the cars flipped and ignited.

*****

Hearing, and turning he watched as if in slow motion one of his cars flipped through the air and exploded.

Cassandra chuckled beside him. “Was that your girl, you bastard?”

“She never hurt anyone!”

“Yeah, but she fucking loved you.”

He had no words. There was so much he could say. But the pain of your death stole his voice. Now all that mattered was he was going to get that fucking diamond from this little bitch.

*****

He swerved at the last minute and the car careened and slammed into a barrier.

*****

You saw as the motorcycle crashed. Out of breath you needed to get there. “Look, are you ok?”

The woman, nodded. “You’re his girl arn’t you?” She dusted herself and stood up.

“Yeah. I am. I love him.” You swallowed. You pulled up the motorcycle to a proper standing. She looked over the bike. At this moment, you didn’t care what role she had in tonight but you needed to get to Roman. “Will this get me to the pier?”

“It should.”

“Good. i need to get there.”

The woman sighed. “Don’t make me regret this. Hop on.”

“Thank you.”

*****

You hopped off. “Thank you.”

You ran off. “Roman..Roman!” You screamed out. You stopped and your balance wavered. This pier was in shambles.

*****

Roman, paused but he didn’t loosen his grip on the girl.

“Sounds like she’s alive.” Casandra whispered.

“That can’t be her. I saw the car.” Sadness and anger consumed him.

*****

“Listen, I should be the one thing they should be afraid of.”

“Harley..Harley stop.” You screamed, you came up behind her.

She turned to you. “You!” Surprise was splashed across her face. “What are you doing here?”

“Because, I love him.” You screamed. And finally reached her.

“Y/N is that you?”Turning, to look in the fog you saw him and the girl materialize.

“Roman.” Tears fell from your eyes, as you saw him. He had a knife to a young girl’s throat. You knew he must have his reasons.

You had never seen his darker side. You only read about it, heard murmurs. But you also saw that he was banged up, blood dripped down his face.

“Y/N, I thought you were killed. I saw the car.”

“I was in the car behind that car.”

“Ok, happy ending. Will you let me go now?” The kid whined.

“Enough!” Harley screeched. “We don’t need another Mr. J.” She pulled out her gun.

You immediately stepped in front of him. “You can’t kill him!” You screamed.

“Y/N, I don’t want to shoot you.”

“Then don’t!” You looked at Roman and the girl and then back at Harley. “Look that fucking diamond has enough of a value for us...for all of us. Can’t we split it?”

Harley, pulled back on the hammer. “Harley, please.” You held out your hands. “Look our only enemy is the Gotham PD and they damn bat.”

“You’re not one of us.”

“Yes, I am the moment I fell in love with Roman.”

“You love him?”

You nodded. “He’s a monster like Mr. J.”

“No, he’s not.”

“I beg to fucking differ.”

You turned to the girl. “Alright, well why did you have to swallow the fucking diamond?” The girl shrugged.

“Roman, will let her go if we can agree now that we split the value.”

Dinah walked up then. Behind her was girl, that gave you a ride to the pier.

Harley put back the hammer.

“Alright, listen I do. I love him more then I ever thought possible. Sure he has his mood swings but he never hit me or forced himself on me. He genuinely cares.”

Harley, looked passed you.

Roman, nodded. “I do. I never thought I’d care for someone like I care for her. But I fucking do. I like waking up to her, and after a long night in the club I like taking her in my arms and falling asleep.”

“You do?”

He grimaced. “Even when you snore while having a bad head-cold.”

“I do not snore.”

“You do.”

“Ok...enough.” Harley screamed. “Roman, if you let her go...a large portion for to Helena then it goes to me, Cassandra, to Dinah and finally you.”

“Fine.” He said flatly, he let go of the girl.

“I guess I won’t need this.” Cassandra threw a grenades over her shoulder. The explosion over the ocean, what there was of a beach shook all of you.

He winced. “You had that the entire time?”

The girl smirked. “One has to be prepared.”

You looked between them and then went over to Roman.

“Roman.” You said, as you looked over the bruises. Grabbing his handkerchief, you wiped away the blood. He grabbed your hand.

“I really thought I lost you.” A soft smile pulled at his lips. He put his knife away.

You smiled. “Not till you tire of me.”

“Never.”

“Romy, you are such a softy.” Cooled Harley.

He gave a look but it softened. “It’s all Y/N’s fault.”

You beamed.

“Good for you, girl.” She winked at you.

You turned to Roman, sometime later after the girls began to walk away. You laid a hand on his cheek. “I thought she was going to kill you. I was so scared.”

“I thought, you were already dead.” He shook his head. “I...I...don’t know what I was going to do.”

He kissed you then. You wrapped your arms around him and you felt his. Never had a kiss felt so right...so needed.

A soft moan came from you as you kissed...it only deepened between the two of you and the rest of the world melted away.

#roman sionis x you #roman sionis imagine #roman sionis x reader #ewan mcgregor #bop #birds of prey #black mask x y/n #black mask fanfiction #black mask x reader

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theonewiththefanfics · 6 years ago

Text

The Pain Of Love (one-shot)

Synopsys: Bucky is a reckless show off when it comes to missions, but when thing go too far, it might lead the Reader and him either broken or closer than ever.

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Genre: angst, fluff

Warnings: swearing, mentions of blood, Bucky feelin down :(

Word count: 2375

In the world of the twenty-first century, Bucky Barnes was known as a lot of things. He was the ruthless Winter Soldier, Hydra’s puppet and their right fist. He was the broken man out of his time with a mind in shambles as he barely held onto sanity. He was the heroic sergeant who gave his life away protecting the country he loved most. He was also Captain America’s best friend from the beginning until the end of the line. But to Y/N Y/L/N he was the insufferable, arrogant always smug and smirking boyfriend. Right now the pair was on a jet flying back to New York while Y/N was crouched on her knees between Bucky’s legs as she stitched up a large gash on his side. He poked her cheek, grabbing the girl’s attention. “You’re adorable when you’re angry.” She could only huff in frustration and had to remind herself not to tug on the string too harshly. “I’m far from angry, James.” “Oh,” he let out a small laugh, “my real name. I must be in trouble.” The cold look he got from Y/N was unnerving. Usually, she went along with his teasing, sometimes even rendering the man speechless with her quick wit, but this was not the case. It made his stomach churn and the smile falter. “Angry is when I get when Sam wakes me up at four AM to go for a run. Angry is how I feel when Natasha takes off on a mission and doesn’t give me a note she won’t be there for our obligatory movie night. Angry is how I become when you just brutally rip my underwear off and don’t think twice that it’s fucking expensive. But right now I’m furious.”

Y/N didn’t elaborate further, wanting to torture the man as much as possible. She pulled the little knot together and snipped off the medical thread. Finally, she stood up and went to the pilot’s seat. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, hoping to calm down her still racing heart. And even though she wanted nothing more than to cry hysterically the Avenger kept her tears at bay. Bucky would immediately wrap his arms around her body, comforting his girl and her composure would crumble to pieces, but it was his fault Y/N was in such a predicament. Reckless, he’d been reckless and because of that, it had almost cost him his life. He’d gotten too cocky, said he could handle everything on his own when a hundred agents swarmed around the ex-Winter Soldier and this time they weren’t there to take him back alive. It was kill or be killed. And that idiot had refused to call for backup. It was only when Y/N had gotten out of the base had she seen the true state of the mission. With his side bleeding, Bucky was still fighting off at least two dozen agents, but the paleness of his face told the girl he was just about to lose. Too much blood had already stained the bright green grass, turning the ground a muddled brown. Precise headshots were delivered to the Hydra goons and Bucky turned to her with a relieved smile before collapsing. Y/N had never felt such fear, such all-consuming despair when using all of her strength the woman hauled her boyfriend's body up, his arm around her shoulder and pulled the barely conscious man towards the jet. His super soldier serum had enhanced the healing rate, but it was still alarming how bad the wound was. “Doll?” Bucky had pulled on a clean shirt, having rid himself of the dirty clothes, contrary to how Y/N looked, still covered in grime. He’d never seen his girl so enraged, never with him. “Look I’m sorry, but I had it covered. Besides, I wasn’t that worried. I know you always have my back, just as I have yours.” Her grip on the handles tightened, so much it turned her knuckles not white, but almost completely translucent to the point Bucky feared either the metal underneath her palms would break or bones would poke out of the skin. But she didn’t reply, instead, the woman kept her gaze fixated onto the orange sky, the sun slowly disappearing down beneath the horizon, little stars already gleaming through, telling them it was going to be a clear night. Y/N didn’t answer to any soft plea, nor did she even grace him with a look. Bucky was becoming desperate to hear at least one word from her, but all he got was the girl's rigid form staring straight out and not seeing anything really. For three hours they flew in an agonising silence before landing in the tower. Y/N swiftly unbuckled the belt and stood up, harshly wrenching her hand away when Bucky tried to grab her wrist. “Doll, talk to me, this is ridiculous.” But she didn’t, only quickened her pace walking towards the laundry room. “Y/N, stop acting like a child. It was just a scrape. I’m fine! It’s already healed!” “Just because your arm is indestructible, doesn’t mean you are! Hell, not even that is true when Tony has to fix bugs in it every other week,” Y/N sighed, pinching her nose before looking up at Bucky. “I’m sleeping in my room tonight. And probably for the rest of the week.” “Come on, doll, don’t be like-“ “Like what, Bucky? Worried? Stressed out of my mind? Completely and utterly petrified when I see the man I’m in love with, bleeding out on a field and he has the nerve to call me adorable while I’m trying to keep his insides from spilling onto the floor?” it was a loud yell, but slowly her voice trailed off, cracking with the last words. “Do I mean that little to you? Does our relationship mean nothing? Did you even think about how I would feel? What losing you would do to me?” The pain in Y/N’s voice shattered Bucky’s heart. He reached out to her, but she just shook her head walking down the hallway towards her own private quarters. That’s when the waterworks started. With her back pressed against the white door, she slid down onto the ground and just cried, didn’t even bother to muffle the sounds with her palm. On her own, she stripped of the tactical uniform, noting how most of her left side was covered by a giant purplish bruise, that seemed to only darken with every passing second. Y/N dragged her body, still raked by sobs to the shower and stepped inside. Usually, she and Bucky would stand under the warm stream and just hold one another, massaging out the knots that had appeared in their back and the tight muscles before releasing stress in a different much pleasurable way, with his lips on her neck and her eyes closed, soft moan slipping from her lips as nails dragged across his perfectly sculpted form. But that night she was alone. Alone she went to bed, alone she cried in her pillows and alone she was dragged under by sleep when two doors down Bucky was the same, only his pain was multiplied by the horrific thought she would never return by his side.

***

“Tony, I need a vacation,” Y/N said entering the kitchen. She felt Bucky’s eyes look up and noted the caution in his words as he spoke. “We’re we going, doll?” a small hopeful smile pulled at the corners of his lips. She had to sigh before facing the man. The girl had given him the silent treatment for the past week, but even after seven days apart, after seven days of not sleeping beside him, without his touch and smell, the vivid image of his bleeding body didn’t leave her. “I said ‘I’ need a vacation. Alone.” Bucky hung his head, eyes watering at her proclamation, but he wasn’t going to let on how much it really hurt. He listened in on Y/N’s and Tony’s quiet conversation, and when they were done, he followed the woman down back to her room. “Y/N, please. What can I do to make it better?” “Nothing, Bucky. There’s nothing you can do right now to change how I feel.” She continued walking away before his next question made her stop dead in the tracks. “Are you breaking up with me?” His voice was so desperate, so full of sorrow and pain her own heart clenched to the point it felt like it would stop beating. “Honestly, Bucky? I don’t know. On one hand, there is nothing more I want to do than wrap my arms around you and kiss you breathless… but on the other… it’s like what we have means jack shit. The way you put yourself in danger without a disregard for me or your safety is worse than a slap to my face. I just need to get away from you, from the compound, from everything before I say or do something I’ll regret.” It was the hardest thing Y/N had done, just turning away once more from Bucky, but she knew that her resolve was crumbling. Her body ached for his touch and her mind screamed to let him hold her. There was nothing she wanted more than to jump in his arm, wrap her legs around his waist and let him carry her to his room and spend the rest of the day ravishing one another. Yet anytime she closed her lids there was Bucky slowly bleeding out on the ground. Her heels echoed in the empty corridor as she left him standing alone.

*** As a kid, Y/N had always wanted to visit the Maldives. To swim in the cerulean water and bathe under the sun, go snorkelling and simply explore the mysteries of the ocean. But now, as the warm evening winds gently made her hair flutter through the air, the peace she thought she would find was overshadowed by the incredible heartache. Two days she had spent in paradise, yet without Bucky, the beauty of the place was lost to her. Until he did arrive. Y/N’s head turned to the side, towards the invading sound of sand rustling underneath someone’s boots. “Was wondering when you’d show up,” she mumbled quietly as he sat down next to her. He kept a little bit of a distance, even though he physically hurt all over without her touch. “You expected me to come?” The girl snorted, looking back to the lapping waves. “You were never one to follow orders.” They remained silent, just watching as the sun slowly disappeared behind the ocean before he couldn’t take the tension anymore and spoke up. “I’m sorry I hurt you. That I didn’t call for backup when you said for me to do so.” Y/N pressed her cheek against her curled up knees and hugged her body, desperately wishing it was Bucky’s warm hold around her. “I’m not mad that you didn’t call for help even in such a dire situation. I’m hurt that you think you mean so little to me. That seeing you in the littlest amount of pain doesn’t devastate me, that it doesn’t rip my heart out and makes me wish I could bear it for you.” Bucky let tears slip down his cheeks at Y/N’s words, at her sincerity and how much she truly loved him. He took a deep breath before he gathered courage and let every thought finally out in the open. “I’ve never thought I was worth much. Not after what I- what the Winter Soldier did… I never thought I would get redemption or even the chance at a normal life, but then you walked in it. With those big Y/E/C eyes and that gorgeous gorgeous smile. Right when we met, you came straight towards me and hugged the living daylights out. I… I had never felt so warm and safe in my life. And I knew I'd never be good enough for you. Darling, you deserve someone so much better... Someone without such a heavy baggage... I feel like I need to prove myself. To you, to the world. That I’m worthy, that I have changed and can do good. I just want you to be proud when standing next to me.” His head fell down, face buried in calloused palms, as violent sobs shook his body. “Buck,” Y/N whispered grasping onto his wrist and went to straddle his lap. “You don’t have to prove anything. Not to me, not to Steve, not to the world. You’re the strongest man I know with the biggest and kindest heart. Yes, you drive me nuts like no one else, but I love you. I love you and your sass, every ounce of this muscle,” she said squeezing his bicep, “that mind of yours, that you keep referring to as broken,” gentle fingers carded through the long locks. “I don’t need you to act like a fool so you can prove you’re a hero. Everyone can see it just because you’re moving on, making friends… falling in love,” Y/N uttered the last three words so quietly the waves by their feet carried them away. “You are a hero just because you broke out from Hydra’s control. You’re not their puppet anymore. You’re a free man. And you’re my reckless, stupid, infuriating boyfriend I can’t imagine my life without. I am proud of you. So so proud. About every single thing you’ve accomplished.” Her touch set Bucky’s body ablaze, but the soothing caress of her palm, as it cupped his cheek and wiped away a stream of tears enveloped him like a warm hug. “I love you, James Buchanan Barnes. And unfortunately, I’ll keep on loving even when I want nothing more than to strangle you, because my life would be so much duller, so much… less… than it is when you’re by my side.” A choked back laugh passed the man’s lips and for the first time in more than a week, the pain in his heart evaporated leaving only remnants of pure love matching that of Y/N’s. "I don't deserve you, doll.'' "You deserve me and so much more," she said before kissing Bucky and remedying all the broken pieces.

Tags (crossed out wouldn't take): @lumelgy @palaiasaurus64 @supernaturalbaesduh @breezy1415 @pizzarollpatrol @crazy--me @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @sea040561 @staryeyedgirl @deathbyarabbit @s-c-a-r-e-d-po-t-t-e-r @reblogger-not-a-blogger @m-a-t-91 @dalilx @i-need-a-hero-i-need-a-loki @maladaptive-ninja-returns @averyrogers83 @in-the-end-im-still-trash @nerissa98 @happyseagrill @asguardiansoftheavengers @crazybutconfidentaf @thunderous-flower @who-cares-rn @projectxhappiness @callmebucky-doll @coal000 @killuaenthusiast @courtneychicken @sophiealiice @raquelbc2003 @watch-out-for-thorns @potentially-kinetic @thatonegirljessy99 @proxinge @bbkenna @buckysclub @ulired @fangirlofeverythingbasically @mrsalh32611 @horrorx570ximagines @the-nargles-made-me-do-it @pooslie @itsisabelanotisabella @httpmcrvel @gallifreyansass

A/N: just wanted to write some sweet fluffy angsty Bucky :)

P.S. please tell me what you think :)

P.S.S. if you wanna be tagged or have any requests, drop a message ;)

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mimik-u · 6 years ago

Text

Flower Child (Chapter 12): Monday

AO3

Monday morning found Yellow Diamond in her study, watching nothing as dawn slowly drew itself around her like a pinkish cape. The shadows under her eyes pooled in the soft light, and the crow’s feet edging them became stark, black, defined. (God, when was the last time she’d had a full night’s sleep? When was the last time she hadn’t stayed awake—fighting and chasing away and courting sordid demons? When was the last time she’d seen a proper bed?) Even still, she was already impeccably dressed for it to not even be seven yet. Her golden hair was swept upwards in a coiffure sharp enough to cut yourself on, and she wore a black suit in the matter-of-fact way that the sky wore the sun. Her heels were perfectly practical (thank you very much), her face meticulously painted on.

Put together but not quite, she stared at nothing.

Maybe the wall.

Maybe the minuscule crack in the door.

And could not bring herself to think about the three meetings she had today, so consumed by the thought of Blue.

Blue was getting out today.

She would assume the stage.

She would get into a town car and not go to the cemetery where their dead daughter lay.

The world would spin on, and for once—for the first time in four years—her wife would spin with it.

It made Yellow so damn happy.

And it made her so damn sad at the same time.

Blue was moving… not on, never on… but forward.

And it wouldn’t be because of Yellow.

She took an impulsive drag of her coffee and half-hoped it would scald her.

(She hadn’t been enough. They hadn’t been.)

When the analog clock on the wall unwillingly dragged her into the next minute, the CEO finally slid her golden gaze from the door to the intercom panel propped next to her lamp. She pressed one of the buttons, eliciting a crackling noise at first, before the line was abruptly snagged by a voice that was equal parts panic and equal parts sleep: “Yes, Mrs. Diamond?!”

“Did I wake you?” Of course, Yellow knew that she had, but she at least had enough courtesy to feign otherwise.

“No, ma’am!” Poppy gamely lied. “What can I do for you?”

“I need you to do a favor for me,” she said, biting her lip. She could have added please to let the maid know that she was serious, but reticence was this particular woman’s both strength and weakness.

“Anything, Mrs. Diamond!”

“You can knock that off now. We’ve already established who I am.”

“Of course, Mrs—” Poppy caught herself with a little squeak. “O-of course.”

Yellow sighed—quite dramatically in proportion to the circumstances really—but pressed on anyway. “I need you to call up to the flower shop and send an arrangement to someone in Empire City Hospital. I’ll leave my credit card on the desk.”

It wasn’t a particularly unusual request. Yellow was sending flowers and champagne bottles to business associates all the time. Even through the staticky transmission, she could hear Poppy scribbling these directions down on paper.

The scratching stopped. “And whom shall I direct the flowers to, ma’am?”

She inhaled sharply.

Oh, hell and shit.

She only knew the kid’s name and approximate age (older than five but certainly younger than twenty).

“His name is Steven,” she sniffed haughtily (to disguise her ignorance, of course). “Young boy. You should be able to locate him.”

“A-ah, yes, ma’am.”

“Good.” Yellow leaned back in her chair and looked quite pleased with herself until she just as suddenly didn’t; with a sudden thought, her dark brow depressed into a frown over her eyes. (When was the last time that her mouth and eyes and chest unbent in a smile? When was the last time worry didn’t transform her entire physiognomy, didn’t make her appear ten years older—ten years more grim and demanding and cold?)

“And, Poppy?”

“Yes, ma’am?”

“Make it anonymous.”

“Yes, ma’am!”

ii.

Monday morning found Poppy on the verge of hysterics as she called three different extensions in Empire City Hospital trying to inquire after a sick boy named Steven.

No, she didn’t know his last name!

No, she couldn’t tell you a room number!

No, she most certainly was not pranking them!

Gah!

iii.

Monday morning found Priyanka Maheswaran nursing her third tumbler of coffee as she surveyed Steven’s guardians from over its rim. In Room 11037, they stood in the empty space where Steven’s bed had once been. The technicians had just taken him down for a couple of scans for UNOS, but even though the five adults in the room objectively knew that, the absence of the boy unnerved the air. Abandoned wires spilled across the scorchingly white floor. The heart monitor on the wall was a flat black, leering at them with its emptiness.

Pearl’s hair seemed to be positively standing on edge.

They were all in shambles—each of them, in their own ways.

The doctor gathered herself into some semblance of professionalism and half-wondered if such posturing was but an exercise in pointlessness. Surely, these people could see through the cracks, the holes in her carefully constructed facade.

Surely, they knew that she cared.

“I’m going to be blunt with you—”

Amethyst cut across her with a wry smile that did not quite reach her eyes. “You always are, Dr. M.”

“True,” Priyanka conceded with a sigh, “and so I see no reason to be anything else with you all.”

She was as sharp as one of her surgical instruments and equally as direct.

Greg’s eyes bore her down, were haunting in their worn sockets.

It was his damn child.

It’d once been his damn girlfriend.

(At the funeral, he pressed Steven against his chest and wept in place of a eulogy.)

“Even with dialysis,” she said, clutching her cup like it was a lifeline, “and even with the extra support we’re giving him here in the hospital, we’re still racing against the clock. His heart is working harder to compensate his kidneys, and his lungs are working harder to compensate his heart.”

He was dying.

That was the cold and hard truth.

Priyanka did not say it, for she didn’t need to—the unspoken words landed in the room anyway, striking precisely, like bullets, the carnage written all over their faces. Pearl’s hands on her stomach were gored with it. There was a third eye on Garnet’s head where her troubled brow met in the middle.

(At the funeral, Pearl had to be lightly pulled away from the casket. She stared at nothing. She said nothing. She stared at Rose.)

(At the funeral, people whispered that Garnet was callous for looking so stoic, so put together, so tearless. They didn’t notice her hands, how they trembled by her sides.)

“Ya gotta say something, Doc,” Amethyst said when the silence got to be too much, when the room started to feel too empty. The air around her was frenetic, charged. She looked liable to be both the predator and the prey trapped in a corner. “That’s what’s wrong. Now what’s the solution?”

(At the funeral, Amethyst cried openly, viscerally, and yet, still found the strength to pull Pearl away from the casket, to squeeze Garnet’s hand, to hold Steven when Greg had to bury his face in his hands.)

(At the funeral, Priyanka made herself notice all of these little things, forced herself to carve them into her memory, one scalpel incision at a time, as both a punishment and a reminder. Somehow, someway, she could have done better, could have been better. Moving forward, she would, dammit. She would never attend another funeral like this.)

“The solution, of course,” she sighed, “is a viable kidney, and I know you don’t want to hear that. I know that it’s the same thing I said last time and the time before that, but dammit, that’s what it’s going to take.”

If anger seared the edge of this proclamation, it was not an anger intended for the broken people standing across from her. It was for the woefully inadequate transplant system where eighteen people across the world died every day because they couldn’t get the organ they so desperately needed. It was for the unfair fact that neither Greg nor Amethyst nor Garnet nor Pearl were matches for the boy they would all give their lives to protect. No hesitation. No blinking. It was for the incredulous idea—ludicrous, absurd, preposterous!—that even if they did find a kidney, that this family wouldn’t have the means to pay for it because health care was so screwed up in this damn country.

If Priyanka was angry, it was for the utter insanity of it all.

The madness.

There was no rationality in a fourteen-year old dying.

“It’s so perverse,” Pearl whispered into the silence, “that we’re here again.”

It was a familiar stage, a familiar scene.

Just someone else in the bed that had once contained a woman with kind eyes and a warm smile—a brilliant, compassionate heart.

Garnet looked away, clenched her fists by her sides.

“It has to end differently, though,” Greg said, a plea in his voice and his eyes. It was scratched across his entire body. It was a scar. “I… I can’t… do that again. I can’t lose him.”

It was wonder that he didn’t shatter where he stood, that they all didn’t. Amethyst reached up and placed a hand on his back.

(This was a familiar image, too.)

(Hell, it was a memory—simply transplanted into the here and now.)

“Greg… all of you—” She began and abruptly stopped. Priyanka Maheswaran was as sharp as one of her surgical instruments and equally as direct, but for once in her life, she didn’t want to be. She wanted to tell this family that their kid was going to make it, that they’d find him a kidney, that the surgery would go well, that love and joy and peace would win at the end of the damn day. She wanted to give them hope; she desperately wanted a modicum of the sensation for herself.

But what could she say?

What could she possibly fucking say?

“I’m so sorry,” she said, her voice cracking, “but this is all I have.”

iv.

Monday morning found Connie Maheswaran unfolded across the backseat of her dad’s cruiser, scrolling through another medical journal, only occasionally stopping to jot down notes in a tab-marked, dog-eared, well-worn, well-loved composition book. When he wasn’t pretending to be interested in his heretofore very boring stakeout, her father’s wire-rimmed glasses peered at her from the rearview mirror.

“You’re sure looking studious for it to be a sunny day in July,” he quipped lightly. Some old alternative band warbled through his ancient cassette deck as he said it, lending him an inadvertent lyricalness. Connie, penciling down donor qualifications in her neat handwriting, mmm’d in distracted reply.

“Oh, I get it,” he shrugged playfully, feigning hurt. “You’re busy. Alas, I’d forgotten the singleminded passions of youth so removed am I by the passage of time. Woe unto me!”

“You’re such a dork, Dad.”

Donors must have a compatible blood type with the patient.

“Oh?” He raised a bushy eyebrow in the mirror. “Is that a polysyllabic response I hear?”

Donors must be in good physical and mental health before consenting to the surgery.

A master of irony, Connie sparred back with a nice and succinct, “Yep.”

Donors must be at least eighteen-years old to qualify for surgery.

These six words were logical, reasonable, were only to be expected—and yet, ice dropped through the twelve-year old’s stomach anyway; a burning sensation pricked the corners of her eyes. She wiped at these feelings furiously, scrubbed them away with the back of her hand.

“Touché,” her dad sighed.

Monday morning found Pearl dragging her feet against the wooden deck, her overnight bag dripping carelessly from her shoulder, a world and a boy and a boy who was her world pressing against the column of her spine. Her fingers shook as they fumbled first with her keys and then with the handle of the screen door.

The hot, July sun taunted her pale neck one last time before she finally escaped into the dark house… only to be immediately swallowed by its emptiness.

God, it was desolate.

So wrong and so vile.

Gray light wept onto the wooden floors.

To her left, there was no Steven in a bed that was left unmade from the last night he’d slept in it. M.C. Bear Bear dangled halfway off the mattress, deserted and derelict without the boy who brought him to life with a smile and a laugh.

To her right, the reading nook in the corner of the room almost looked untouched, betrayed only by a slight crookedness skewing one of the cushions. Steven had knelt there, and Steven had fallen, and now Steven wouldn’t be leaving the hospital for a very long time if… if… if?

(If ever again.)

The dull thud of his fall echoed in her head.

It dropped into the pit of her stomach and ruined her.

(“I’m sorry,” Priyanka Maheswaran had said, and Priyanka Maheswaran never said sorry, "but this is all I have.”)

Pearl clutched her rumpled shirt and tried not to shatter as she limped further into the living room, where a lump on the couch caught the corner of her eye.

The lump, of course, was Peridot, wrapped in a blanket and snoring slightly. Without her glasses on, she looked particularly young—vulnerable. (Though, ferocious as she was, she’d claw someone’s eyes out before ever acquiescing to such gooey epithets.)

Pearl didn’t necessarily want to wake her, but she didn’t want to leave her on the hard couch either, so in the end, she approached quietly and skimmed her knuckles lightly against the girl’s exposed shoulder.

Emerald eyes flew open with a jolt.

A startled cat tore from under the blanket and streaked out of the room.

“Nyeh!”

“Sorry,” Pearl apologized as Peridot scrambled to find her bearings and her glasses and a little shred of dignity, too. Once her frames were adjusted on her pointed nose, she looked positively scandalized—which was fair, of course. “Just wanted to let you know I’m here. I’m going to nap for a few hours before my shift, so you’re welcome to go home for a bit or crash in a bed if you’d like.”

But scandal turned into realization turned into somberness in the other’s face.

Pearl found that she wasn’t ready to face it; her duffel bag slipped slightly on her shoulder.

“Where’s Lapis?” She tried quickly, but Peridot was quicker—intuitive and stubborn, a deadly combination.

“Swim practice. Never mind her.” Peridot waved a flippant hand. “How’s Steven?”

She knew the litany of lies by heart now.

He’s fine.

He’s stable.

He’s resting.

He’s fine.

And she tried to summon one on her lips for Peridot—she tried so damn hard to stay together—but how could she?

How could she fucking do it?

“… Pearl?”

"Peridot, I... I—" Tears leaked from her eyes.

And dripped down her beaky nose.

And splattered her sweater with their ruin.

Something was building in her stomach, in her chest, in the column of her throat.

And she tried splaying her fingers across her mouth, tried damming up the carnage, but—

"Pearl!"

—she was falling apart.

Or she'd already done so.

And this was just the explicit proof:

Pearl collapsed to her knees and wept.

vi.

Monday morning found Greg Universe on his metaphorical knees. He was desperation reconciled, a man not really sitting on a bench, so much as he was a man being supported by one. A phone was in his hand; there was an exhaustion on his shoulders.

“Ya could have called me sooner, y’know,” Greg’s cousin said on the other end of the line. There wasn’t admonition in the sentence, just resignation.

And concern.

And grief.

Andy had just met Steven a couple of months ago, but like all people who came into his son’s orbit, found it impossible not to love him, not to care. Andy had taken him up in his old plane and shown him the stars, and Steven had shown that cantankerous old coot that he didn’t have to roam the world looking for home.

Greg spidered his hand across his forehead and looked down at the concrete between his feet—the minuscule cracks in the pavement, the imperfect rubble. He burned all over; he wanted to burn the world to the ground; he wished the ground would swallow him whole; his son was sick.

“I didn’t want to face it, Andy,” he whispered, his voice strained tight, on the verge of breaking. “I’ve already lost Rose… I didn’t… I couldn’t—”

But his cousin took pity on him and quickly cut him off. “—I know, kiddo… I know. Listen, I’ll go get tested and get back to ya, okay?”

“Okay.” He closed his sagging eyes. “Thanks.”

“Tell Champ that I’m gonna bring him something cool the next time I fly down there.” Andy’s thick Jersey accent was slung with emotion (or whiskey one), all the hard consonants broken and slurred. “Ya got that, ya bald bastard?”

Greg chuckled lifelessly. “Yeah, I hear you loud and clear.”

“Good man,” and the phone clicked off just as warm hand landed quietly on his shoulder, drawing him back from the darkness. Of course, it was Garnet, who had been his companion in exhausting their contact lists and asking friends and family to get tested. Of course, it was Garnet who always knew exactly what he needed in the moment that he did.

She was steady like that, dependable.

Somehow, he found it in himself to wonder who was the same for her? Who was steady? Who was dependable? Who was the shoulder she leaned upon, if she needed to lean at all?

She’d always been so self-sufficient, so contained and in control.

Or was it Steven?

The possibility hit him suddenly, like a train.

(He thought on it; he chewed; he concluded: it was probably Steven.)

“You can’t beat yourself up, Greg,” she murmured. Sunlight glinted across her sunglasses, eradicating even the suggestion of her eyes beneath them. “We didn’t think we’d be here this fast. We thought we’d have more…”

“…time,” he finished quietly and choked a little at the end.

(“I’m sorry,” Priyanka Maheswaran had said. He then waited for the blow, and she promptly delivered. “But this is all I have.”)

There wasn’t any more time.

There was only waiting and hoping and waiting and hoping and—

They’d been waiting and hoping for eight months now.

Garnet’s fingernails dug into his shirt.

“S’not that I want to be hard on myself,” he mumbled, swiping clumsily at his snotting nose. “It’s just that I feel like I’m failing my kid, y’know? He’s in there fighting for his life, and I… I can’t do anything about it!”

The concrete mocked him with its gray, blank face; he wished it would rise up from the ground and strike him; he’d give anything if it would clock him cold; he deserved it; or maybe he didn’t; maybe everything was all screwed up, and he just didn’t really want to feel a damn thing—for hours at a time, for days.

“But, Greg,” Garnet whispered, her voice tight around the edges, her grip on him tighter. “Look at you. Look at that phone in your hand. We’ve been calling people all morning. We’ve been fighting for him for months.” She almost sounded angry, which was a rarity in and of itself for this particular woman who so masterfully boxed all of her emotions down and away. “That isn’t nothing.”

But then, suddenly, without warning, further complicating everything he knew about her, Garnet balled her free hand into a fist and knocked it hard against the bench. Her knuckles came back imprinted with the striations in the wood.

“It can’t be nothing,” she growled. “All of this can’t be for nothing. He can’t just—” But she stopped short, apparently choked, and Greg closed his eyes again.

Steven could just die, and that would be that.

It would be their entire world.

It would all be for nothing.

The sun was so damn bright today; it burned, and it burned, and it burned.

vi.

Monday found Amethyst teetering beneath a hella big flower arrangement as she stumbled into Room 11037.

God, the container was almost as huge as her head and just as full of crap—which was to say, beautiful sunflowers whose golden petals unfurled symmetrically around dark anthers. The strain of carrying it reddened her fingers as she did well to deposit it on the moveable tray Steven ordinarily used as a table when he ate.

(Not that he did eat.)

(Not really.)

The thud of the vase hitting the table jolted Steven from what had been a half-lidded gaze to a well-alert panic.

“Wha—?”

“Sorry, Steven,” she apologized, still panting from the exertion. She then leaned against the foot of his bed, wrapping one of her newly sore arms against the frame. “Didn’t mean for that to be so loud. Stupid thing was just so heavy.”

Encumbered as he was by wires, he couldn’t really move his head to take a closer look at the arrangement, but all the same, panic softened in his eyes—became appreciation and awe in a blink.

It hurt Amethyst to look at him.

(She would never look away.)

“Ohmygosh!” he croaked in one impressive breath. “These are so pretty. Who sent them?”

“Beats me,” Amethyst shrugged, quite unfortunately exacerbating the soreness in her shoulders. “Nurse said that your secret admirer wanted to stay anonymous.”

“Aw,” he grinned, “I have a secret admirer?”

“Ahahaha, somethin’ like that. Could it be the old lady?” Not that anyone was asking, but she thought it was quite admirable of herself to show restraint enough not to go with a more colorful moniker. “She’s rich enough to send something as fancy-schmancy as this.”

Steven thought on it for a moment—lifted his dark eyes towards the ceiling and hummed tentatively. The fluorescents overhead crowned his black hair with a harsh halo and illuminated the deep grooves beneath his eyes, the hollows in his face, the yellowish pallor of his skin.

Jaundice was setting in, making a fine mockery of his youth.

(God, would it hurt to just look away just once?)

“Truuuuuue,” he eventually conceded, “but I don’t know why she just wouldn’t bring them with her.”

Oh, yeah.

That was something that was happening.

It was a hella good thing Pearl was working today.

“Oh, yeah. She’s coming later, isn’t she?”

“Yup. Two o’clock.” Amethyst glanced over her shoulder at the clock on the wall—it was nearly one—and then turned back to him, a small frown puckering at her lips.

“That isn’t a long time from now.”

“And?”

“And, buddy, my pal, my friend,” Amethyst smiled bitterly, “I hope you know what you’re gonna say to her because you look like shit.”

“Rude!” He stuck his tongue out and approximated some semblance of a faux offended expression, but his brow furrowed above his bruised eyes all the same.

These past three days had done their number on Steven, and he was a far cry from the boy who bounced in the elevator ride up to Blue Diamond’s opulent penthouse suite, and he was absolutely the ghost of the kid he was eight months ago.

(He used to pounce on Amethyst’s back and demand that she fake wrestle with him.)

(He used to play on the beach for hours.)

(He’d been so vibrant and alive and present and capable, and God, how was it even fair that he wasn’t anymore?)

“Just tellin’ the truth,” Amethyst sighed. “I dunno much about her, but going off the bathrobe and smudged mascara alone, I wouldn’t guess that she’s got a strong constitution.”

Steven batted back with a worldweary sigh of his own.

“I know,” he murmured, “but, also, like, I dunno, Amethyst—I think strength for her might just be wandering around in a bathrobe, you know?” On top of his blankets, he softly skimmed his thumb across the knuckles of his other hand, careful to avoid all of the intravenous lines. “Honestly, I think… she might struggle with even that.”

The translation was clear in his face: Blue Diamond struggled to even be.

At that very moment, Amethyst was simultaneously irritated and sympathetic, understanding and unkind. She began to pick viciously at one of the loose threads in Steven’s blanket; her long bangs fell unceremoniously over her right eye.

“If that’s true, then she might break just seeing you, Steven.”

He thought on this, too, closing his eyes and settling his thumb across the ridges of his knuckles.

She hated when he did this.

Hated how still he looked.

(And yet, she still couldn’t bring herself look away.)

“Maybe”—he opened his eyes—“but maybe not… I want to help her, Amethyst. I think she needs it.”

You're the one who needs help, she wanted to say.

(He looked so sincere as he said it, so kind and warm and believing in the idea that a broken, old lady could be saved by his smile alone.)

You don’t owe a damn thing to this lady.

(He didn't owe a damn thing to all of the other people he'd helped, but he still did it anyway.)

Take care of yourself.

(What more could he do?)

Fight for yourself.

(What more could any of them do?)

For me.

(I can't lose you, buddy.)

For us.

(We'd be lost.)

But those options would fundamentally be unSteven, and it was so Steven to be so damn selfless, to extend a flower to a grieving woman in a cemetery, a hand and his stupidly big heart to what was clearly a person in need.

“Yeah,” she finally said, her voice thick with emotion, “I gotcha.”

On that tray that he used but didn’t use because he couldn’t hold down solid food anymore, a flower head leaned towards Steven, as though it was itching to say hello.

vii.

Monday found Blue Diamond standing at the threshold of the exit (and the beginning), her long hand pale against the handle that she had been gripping for hours now—weeks, months, years.

(It’d been minutes, but time swallowed her up and spit her out back again. She was here in her penthouse suite preparing to visit a boy in the hospital; she was in that fatal night from all those many years ago, screaming.)

She was coming, Steven Universe.

Her silvery hair swept down her back in its signature braid; a dress, not a bathrobe, unfolded down her curvy frame.

In just a moment or hours from now—weeks, months, maybe years—she would walk out of the door.

(It would be a few minutes; it’d be a near panic attack; it would be bravery.)

She was coming.

#flower child #yellow diamond #priyanka maheswaran #steven universe #blue diamond #connie maheswaran #pearl #garnet #amethyst #greg universe #yellow pearl #s: steven universe #mimik-u #oh boy - i'm whipped

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captainkurosolaire · 6 years ago

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Prompt #8 : The Agreement

Overlooking the pushing tides eye closed and hands clenched before a fallen wry smile befell a Captain of Gold, a seagull cawing and swooping up a smaller fish upon it’s beak, not far from the spot a cliff hungover nearside the Silver Bazaar where the flight of the free savored their delights peace of calmness was felt in the surrounding environment, “Ye gonna stay lurking in those shadows? It’s kinda of hard not to hear the excitement bubbling from the overgrown butterfly.” He lightly rotated and tilted and appearing before him was another Miqo’te with a blindfold but not simple one, this one held more history. For you see this was his biological Father. The man who gave himself to a Doma resistance group and led assassination operations instead of stuck close to true treasure...

A encapsulating figure of marvel and luminous speaking up in a squeaky high-pitched voice floating closely to the mysterious man, <What did you call me? Butterfly!!! I’ll show you.” The Eos getting pulled by two finger digits and held back by a dress. Softer and more gruff with experience and harden pitch, “Son.” He rung. Still coveting that mask of his eyelids. His perception of senses heightened and his trusty companion leading him.

The ruffian pirate retorted, “What brings you out of the shade and into my orbiting Sun? Huh old man? Came to assassinate me or for the better term attempt too? The bounty better be worth a nifty sum of gil to have you step to me reminds me, how’s the arm pops?” His golden amber hue looking towards a damned well limb that was ripped asunder in a battle that took place a few Moons passing now right before the crucible of a War of the Depths. Hoku’s metallic magitek augmentation lifting up lightly no sound slinking from it almost perfectly only to those with the most sensitive hearing. “Seems you’ve but still remained ever the delinquent and unwavering. Should know damn well why I returned to see how you’ve been training and coming along ensuring you haven’t slacked off just because one battle was over... How about we cut it out? He said wisely and seriously atone.” The toothed-fang smirk and arrogance returning back, “Aye? Ye wanna know how I’ve been doing. Absolutely dandy. I’ve got dead crewmates here and there some captured and held, I’m wanted. I’ve never felt more alive! I’m atop of the world. Hell I get a golden ovation every time I step in a room. They always remind me in applause of my upstanding Father and being raised!” Talking with sarcasm towards the ending response.

“Yes well, I didn’t expect you to be fine. You’re already lying to yourself still it seems, you’re miserable. Worse than that aren’t you? A parent knows...” Being cut off by the loudmouth scoundrel, “What the hell exactly do you know what I been through? Were you there! No, I had to do heinous things on the norm to survive. You least can abandon your emotions all behind and ditch what matters to you, NOT ME. When I see a Treasure, They are the object of my World. My closest parent was only one man, he’s in these depths. Leviathan, I can show you t’ spot!” “It’s not wrong, when you become a contract killer you abandon nearly all of you have to forget and be within coldness so it doesn’t dampen your inabilities to see too a well earned victory stricken when another head’s off the list. You’re right I might one day, I’ll be deployed to have to kill you. But it’ll be in pride and at this point... However, It’s not the worst option now either. I was controlled before but I fought you, I saw you. Truly within my Sight. You all but know how special our gift is... In a moment, I saw what you did, became, it was an omen.” The furrowing eyebrow tattooed and battered scarred pirate stood closer in, “What is that?“ An answer simple and held grave. “You sold yourself... To death. Your death or better of the like term for it the Ferryman. Only visited when sought with ambitions bigger. The individual offers to give up his Soul in due time as a bargaining chip but your Soul’s split before he could reap you and ever since then you been on borrowed time. Here is the thing though, no one outruns it. It’ll catch up. You already been experiencing the nightmares? You losing control? Slipping out of balance and touch with yourself waking up in sweats. I know you took the deal because your fighting style. While it’s true an assassin borrows the skills required to administer and serve as the reaper themselves. You instead borrowed it’s luck. Ever since then you been on borrowing. Everything you’ve done has led to this. You already want to cut your own heart out of your torso don’t you? The pain gets worse, that psyche is already acting distorted. You’ve already seen it fallen into shambles. Even THAT beast you chained, is frightened. You’ve brought damnation upon yourself and you.... smile.” He fatherly scolded and also act as a former Mentor of the pirate. That infamous smirk was placed on Kuro as he looked over at Hoku, “What’s the matter worried? You’re correct, I did give in to something bigger than me. Cause ye see that’s what I have to do. You weren’t left with nothing, screw the compass where did it lead me? Getting my ass-kicked and no friends at that shitty orphanage? How about every single thing I’ve stolen to survive in the Lanes? News flash there isn’t much to eat there. You have no where to go, or turn too, be alone with nothing! Even your caretakers don’t give a single shite. I appreciate your sentiment but it’s none of your business mate you’ve but sunken your opportune time for a lecture. Hell maybe it’s not a bad thing to give into what else lies dormant in me, let him have control wreck havoc and then let him get reaped shortly after. Surely, that’ll be any better!” “You’re the exact same as your Mother was stubborn and risky at a fault trying to prove something bigger. You’ll always run into curses but taking that of Death’s is the worst one. You wonder why your crew is dead? Why chaos follows you, because you bring it’s company with you on your adventures, It doesn’t matter at all that you can lead them. It’s the fact by them being around you their luck considerably has diminished. That specter knows no bounds and it’s swiping for your head to cleave it off! Yeah, you dodge it. But look who is with your in the cross-hairs being replaced.Seems you found yourself someone special, I’m happy. Though even she and partially in death’s favor can be disposed of and it’ll come by, you. So you’ve got two options, son. You let me end you right now, which is probably for the better as mercy for the pain you’ll be inflicted. You’d rather prefer any other cruelty. Or you can listen to me and take option two.” Boldly stepping closer and hearing his eye gave thought and looked over at the seas the clouds darkening. He felt ringing truth, “How did you obtain knowledge even of this?” The pirate’s father and guide in life, “My own Mentor you see is a rather unique individual an Immortal but not the type you’re accustomed too. This immortality is but a curse that leaves a man sick, he cannot be killed by any means but he has a fate worse than that. He suffers from Death’s Choke. Where his body becomes encased in the worst pain of any lifetime all at once constantly and causing him to have servants and others to draw upon aether and bring it to them to cope. There’s no telling when he’s allowed to move or do anything but sit on a weakly bed and be tarnished. People have associated him with many titles but lately he’s taken up in the creation of a Sky Pirate crew that you know runs the biggest black market and trade organization a fleet so big that there is Six Tiers too.” Scoffing and sighing lowly, “Seriously we’re going on that again? Flaming Pegasus or aka the ‘Arbiters Line’ It’s a rumor at this point the only people who’ve real contact has been Beast Tribe and a few odd strays. I’ve bought things from them and they helped us with the Sea Lurkers with their devices. But they’re but rumors. They’re a criminal organization in upper-world instead of underworld. Not many people can even reach them or touch them. You want me to go on a goose-chase, buy a sky ship find some sick old timer and just HOPE he can somehow find a solution to fix me? Am I really grasping at straws here with this, I’m cursed situation? This seems like a whole lot of dramatic theater for me, mate.” Lighter steps close in from the older Seeker to the more younger one equally battered and seasoned. “If you want treasures, freedom, to live. This is your only option. You can go return to biding your time out watching for which person is your downfall. You don’t fear death’s but it’ll come and that pain will be so destructive... You thought you knew nothing...” He’d frown, “Go, train. Find Arbiter’s Line. This isn’t something I can push you on. If you don’t do this... I’ll have to let her know. Do not be selfish on this one thing or allow your greed to consume you or be hesitant upon action.” Flicker the fairy strolled up and slapped Kuro with a stinging slap before heading back. “That’s for picking on me more lately!” She’d hide underneath a folded pocket on Hoku’s garb as they begun walking off to once again fade within the shadows. “Hey, old man.” The Cap’n of the Goldbrand spoke, Hoku stopped in tracks not turning but in listens. “Thanks, father... I’ll give it some thought.... I always did relish me some adventure! There’s got to be someone out there who can teach me something new!” He’d return his starry gaze to the seas before turning back and noticing they were gone and causing him splitting a gnarling-fanged curl of his lips.

#FFxivWrite2018 #hoku #kuro #father #son #developement #time to cut the bs #death #curses #pirates #assassins #ffxiv screenshots #ffxiv rp #ffxiv miqo'te

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renna-fyth · 3 years ago

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Journal, I hope you are enjoying this change in scenery! I imagine it must get pretty old being stuffed down in the bottom of my old satchel all the time. The beach is lovely here, and I love this time night where a slight chill just comes in through the ocean breeze, and the reddest sun is consumed by the horizon. As I reflect on my thoughts of past days there is no greater example than this. The waters of life ebb and flow like this shore, sometimes taking away that which we knew. But as the tide returns new changes, and new possibilities can lay just beneath the wake. All I have to do is take the plunge, and see what may be there waiting for me. To start…it finally happened, Journal. Kyni and I talked and…well it’s done. Through so many sorrys and tears I tried to explain myself to Kynikos all that happened. He was patient, and as always understanding of me even though I'm sure all that I hit him with didn't make total sense. He knows me better than anyone else Journal, knows all the terrible things I’ve been through, and has always been a great friend first in listening. But as my words ended, Kynikos made it clear to me that his love for me had waned, and Fifi is his all. The delivery was cold and final, and as I stood there in shambles Kynikos never stepped forward to comfort me, nor showed any remorse in his decision. He was going to make me do this on my own, just as he did when I left him. It was tough, but now I can finally see it for what it was; it was tough love. In my venom I spouted off a prepared bit of nonsense to him of how if this was his choice, then it was a final one. I would not be his back-up plan. Kyni accepted the terms, and then...surprisingly...the two of us did not part ways. With every overdue thing said that needed to be said, we looked at one another with new eyes. Well…old eyes really. The pain, burden, discomfort, mistrust, hurt, and anger had lifted, and our close friendship rebooted almost as if nothing had happened. We spent the entire day together! Kyni naturally became excited when I told him that I went shopping for a new weapon. I bought a lance, Journal! I hadn't used such a weapon since I lived back in Golmore. And guess what? I beat Kyni with it in our first training session! We spent the afternoon out deep in the Twelveswood by a stream and practiced sparring. The training was intense, and Kyni came at me with real attacks, though I can tell he pulled up quite a lot. Maybe he let me beat him so I’d feel better? That day, I found something in me I had forgot. Long dormant skills and a ferocity that I had not shown since being back home in Golmore, came forth. Indeed, Kyni was teaching me to stand on my own, Journal. With night having now fallen I am greeted with wonder as the night’s sky dazzles. Like the ancient mariners of old I look to the stars for new guidance and direction. My thoughts are on Shey…still on Shey! After our amazing trip to Coerthas I’ve kept waiting and hoping she’ll come see me. I want to tell her about my day. Show her my lance! I want to share things with her and laugh and move forward with my life like just like Kyni did months before. Is she too staring out at these same stars? Might they guide her to me? I think I’ll drag an extra chair over just in case she does. I’m not tired yet, so I think I’ll cast my line in the water and see what happens. ~Goodnight for now, Journal

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heebiejbies · 7 years ago

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Limerence - The Final Chapter

Limerence Masterlist

Characters: Sehun, Suho, and OC (Ursula)

Warnings: This series contains mentions of assault, sexual violence, and stalking.

Word Count: 4.3k

Limerence: The state of being infatuated or obsessed with another person, typically experienced involuntarily and characterized by a strong desire for reciprocation of one’s feelings.

Eight months.

Eight months of pure misery.

Eight months of irreversible damage.

It took only eight months to break my heart.

Seeing Sehun’s face sitting at that table across from me with his hands handcuffed behind his back hurt worse than anything he did to me. Despite him being in that position because of me, he didn’t look at me with any trace of malice or hatred. He looked at me with a look of hurt, a look of betrayal. He had lost weight and he had dark circles under his eyes, he looked absolutely miserable and I knew I was the one to blame.

The judge was getting fed up with my silence. He asked me again and again if I’d like to press charges, but I couldn’t find it in my heart to say yes or no. I know that I should, but at the same time, I also know that I could never do something so horrible to the man I love. No matter what he did, I could never hurt him like that. My heart and brain were pulling me apart, and I was at my witts end.

“I-I’m sorry. I can’t do this!” I stood up from my seat and ran out of the courtroom and the courthouse. I ran outside to a pavilion nearby and fell to my knees on the concrete.

“Urs, are you alright?”

“No, I’m not alright! I can’t do this! I know I can’t do this!”

“But you have to! Don’t you understand that?”

“I can’t!” My body shook as I started sobbing. I couldn’t catch my breath, I couldn’t think properly, I couldn’t do anything but sit there in shambles under the pavilion.

They looked into everything in Sehun’s life. They found the software he installed on my phone, the pictures he had of me, the information he collected, they found all sorts of evidence of the crimes he committed. They had a solid case built against him but something was keeping an eye on him and watching out for him.

“He is incompetent to stand trial, so he won’t be sent to prison. He will be sent to a mental institution, though. He isn’t well in the head, Ursula, he needs treatment. I’m just thankful that the judge sees that he needs treatment and not prison.”

“What does that mean for me? Well, us?”

“I’m not sure, it’s still too early to tell the details.”

The day that the judge told Sehun’s fate had to be the worst day up until that point. The only thing that stood out to me that day was Sehun. He cried out to me, he cried out to me and begged me to help him but I couldn’t do anything but sit there and cry.

“N-no wait! Ursula! Please, Ursula, don’t let them take me away! Ursula, help me! Please!” I grasped my chest, feeling the pieces of my heart falling apart as I watched them drag him away.

“I’ll find you, I promise!” That is all I could say. They dragged him and the rest of my heart out that door and I never saw him again, not until three months later.

They wouldn’t allow me to see Sehun for a few months upon him being admitted, but his psychiatrist specifically requested that I be allowed to see him after he saw how much seeing me helped Sehun the first time.

They first let me see him through a two-way mirror. I looked at the man I love in complete shock, he looked completely different than the last time I saw him. His hair had dulled, the dark circles under his eyes had intensified, his skin had paled beyond belief, he looked absolutely miserable. He looked up at his psychiatrist, his eyes were cold and dead and showed no emotion in them.

“Sehun, I have something for you.” His psychiatrist motioned for me to enter the room. Sehun looked from his psychiatrist to me, then back to his psychiatrist. I walked over to the table where he sat, sitting next to him in a chair.

“Sehun, it’s me.” He looked at me as if I were a dream, a sweet dream that at any minute he could wake up from and realize that it was all a lie. He let his fingertips trace along my leg, that’s when he realized I was real. He didn’t say anything, but wrapped his arms around my waist and buried his head in my chest.

“I’m sick, Ursula… I’m so sick, I need help…”

“I know, angel, I know you do.” I rubbed his back to comfort him, he kept repeating over and over again that he was sick and needed help.

“Please, don’t leave me… I need you next to me, please don’t leave me all alone.” I could feel the pain in his words, and to say they hurt me would be an understatement. It felt like knives stabbing into my heart, him begging me not to leave him all alone.

“I won’t leave you, Sehun. I’ll be here with you through everything. The worst is over now, I’m here.”

They transferred him to an institution six hours away from me. For two months I drove three days a week to go see him before I finally moved near the institution. Dr. Scott helped with finding a different Veterinary Clinic I could transfer to. Thankfully, he knew a vet from school who had a place open and he put in a good word for me and I got the job easily.

Both Caspian and our mom didn’t agree with me moving so far away for Sehun. They could never begin to understand what either of us were going through, though, and that caused a rift in our relationships.

“Caspian is right, Ursula! Are you insane? Why would you move six hours away for some psycho?!”

“He is not a psycho, mom! He is ill and he needs me! He needs me now especially and I am going to be there for him no matter what you and Caspian think.”

“He doesn’t need you, Ursula! He kidnapped you for God’s sake, he stalked you and he murdered someone!”

“Neither of you understand, so just stay out of our business!”

I didn’t speak to either of them after that. They can say all they wanted to about me and Sehun, but I couldn’t leave him alone. He needed someone there for him throughout his treatment, and I knew that someone had to be me.

Sehun improved over my visits, he started turning back to the Sehun I fell in love with in the first place. It was around the fourth month after moving that his psychiatrist and I had a discussion about his mental health.

“Do you know what Limerence means, Ursula?”

“I do not, doctor. Does this have something to do with Sehun?”

“Yes, indeed it does.” He laid out Sehun’s file in front of me, filled with pages and pages of his recordings. There, on one of the pages, was the word he asked about—limerence.

Limerence: The state of being infatuated or obsessed with another person, typically experienced involuntarily and characterized by a strong desire for reciprocation of one's feelings but not primarily for a sexual relationship.

“I’m not quite sure what this has to do with Sehun.”

“Alright, let me explain this word a bit more. Some call it lovesickness, infatuation, etc. These feelings are not something Sehun can control, his mind will not stop thinking about you. Specific chemical responses in his brain have caused him to be this way, the responses are much like that of one addicted to drugs. The response that makes them crave more drugs makes him crave your affection. His mind is consumed with the thought of you, and it’s not something he can stop. He’s reminded of you everywhere. To put it simply, he’s addicted to you.

On the subject of the, well, crimes that were committed, Sehun isn’t quite to blame for this. He did things to please you, to make you happy and make your life easier. Such as the murder of your father and the attempted murder of Eric Revlin. What he experiences is so intense that it leaves all other concern in the dark, those are not important to him. He’s not a criminal, rather he is what I would define as mentally ill. I can explain more if you’d like at a later date, but I will say this. He is getting better. I can already see this limerence is slowly dying off. That is mostly thanks to you.”

Hearing that Sehun wasn’t in his right mind when he committed the acts that he did made me feel relieved. I already knew that he didn’t mean to do it, but hearing it from a psychiatrist reassured me. Sehun didn’t have any control over this, and the Sehun that did those horrible things wasn’t really him. Well, it was him, but it wasn’t on his own free-will.

“There are three ways in which Limerence subsides. One of which is called Consummation. This is where the one suffering limerence feels a certain feeling of reciprocation from the one that they are longing for. With what he has told me, I’m not sure why it took so long for the symptoms to start subsiding after you let your feelings for him be known, but it is subsiding and that is something we can be thankful for.”

“Are you sure you are ready to see him after so long?” After receiving a nasty bite from a dog at work, my arm was wrapped up nicely and I needed help putting on my coat. He helped me put it on with my injured arm and then put his on as well.

“He isn’t to blame for what he did, right? He was mentally ill, and he was my best friend. I love him, and I really want to see him again. Hopefully seeing me will help him recover.”

“Do you think we should tell him that we are living together? If what his psychiatrist said is to be believed then-”

“Then Sehun will understand why we are living together and won’t have any problem with it.” Sehun knew nothing of Suho after their last encounter. I wasn’t even sure if Sehun knew that Suho survived, or if he thought he had really killed him. Sehun never spoke about Suho, but hopefully, that would change with them being reunited after so long.

I regained consciousness when the paramedics lifted me up onto a gurney. They were attempting to speak to me, but I had a ringing in my ear that made it impossible to hear what they were saying to me. As they wheeled me into the ambulance, another face appeared beside me on a gurney. Despite being bruised and bloodied, I knew who it was instantly.

“S-Suho?” He reached out and grabbed my hand in his, then laid his head on the pillow and closed his eyes. Our hands stayed connected until we arrived at the hospital and we were taken to separate operating rooms.

Suho saved me that day. Something was looking out for the both of us, and we survived. Suho was the person who knocked Sehun off of me. He hit him over the head with a shovel and tried to help me stay conscious while we both waited for the ambulance. He didn’t tell me just exactly what Sehun did to him, but he told me how he ended up saving me.

“All I remember is one night I was watching TV, and then I blacked out and woke up at that house. I was locked down there and tied up, so I guess Sehun just thought if he tossed me down there I would eventually die. He only came down there a few times, and I pretended to be dead every time. He didn’t even look to see, which I am thankful for.”

The stories about being out of town, that was all Sehun’s doing. He had Suho’s phone and was using it to try and cover his tracks. Despite all of that, though, Suho didn’t hate Sehun. After the first few visits, I told Suho what the psychiatrist said about Sehun, and I think that’s when Suho understood.

“Sehun isn’t this person, he would never do these types of things. I’ve known him for a long time, I know he wouldn’t. He just changed, but if you can change then you can change back. He’s getting the help he needs, and with the doctors and you there I know he will be back to who he was before this all started.”

Upon entering the floor Sehun’s room was on, I could hear the faint sound of a piano being played. Then, I could hear singing. Sehun’s psychiatrist asked us to be quiet as he led us to the room where the music was coming from. He led us to another two-way mirror, there we were both shocked to see that it was Sehun playing the piano and singing. The psychiatrist knocked on the door to the room and entered, the music ceasing immediately. He motioned for us to enter the room, but I stopped Suho before he could enter.

“Maybe it’s… Best if I go first. Don’t you think? Just so it won’t overwhelm him.” Suho nodded in agreement, then handed Vivi to me. I took the bichon inside the room, Sehun jumping up from his seat upon seeing the two of us.

“Oh, Vivi my boy! I missed you so so so much! Thank you for taking care of him, Urs. I know he’s happy that his mommy is taking care of him.” Vivi yipped and licked Sehun’s face, happy to see him after so long. “I missed you so much, when I get out of here I promise you I will give you lots of cuddles and love to make up for the time apart!”

Sehun took Vivi and sat back down at the piano. He had him on his lap as he began mindlessly playing the piano. He pet Vivi with one hand, and his fingers on the other danced across the keys. Despite him not paying attention to what he was playing, he still played beautifully. I walked closer to peek over his shoulder, a piece of music laying on the piano caught my eye.

Scribbled in blue ink was a title. For Life. Then, there was a dedication. For Ursula. I read what lyrics I could make out, and I almost cried on spot. Sehun had poured his heart and soul out into this song, this song he wrote for me. He noticed me reading over his shoulder and laughed shyly.

“Ah, this? Yeah… This helps get my anxiety out. I wrote it for you, would you like to hear it?” I nodded my head vigorously, then sat down beside Sehun. I held it together until the end of the song.

“The storms will come and winds will blow I’ll be your shelter for life. This love, this love, I mean it ‘till the day I die Oh, never gonna let you go Givin’ you my heart and soul I’ll be right here with you for life Oh, baby all I wanna do Is spend my every second with you So look in my eyes, I’ll be by your side Yeah look in my eyes, I’ll be by your side For life”

Watching him perform the song, the song he wrote for me, it made my heart skip a beat. He looked so angelic, he didn’t look like a real person. He was more perfect in this one moment than he had ever been, I couldn’t help but shed a tear as the last note faded.

“This is beautiful… Sehun I… I don’t know what to say...” He sat with his hands by his side for a moment, before turning and wrapping his arms around my waist. He nuzzled his face into my neck and sighed.

“I’ve been thinking for a long time, and being here has helped me clear my thoughts. Urs, it’s okay if you want to go… It’s okay if you want to leave me, I’ll let you go.”

In that moment, I tried to think about a future where I left Sehun. I tried to see my future, my future without him. However, no matter how hard I thought and no matter how hard I imagined, I couldn’t see my future without him.

“But what if I want to stay?”

I couldn’t imagine a future without Sehun. He had become such an important person in my life, and no matter what he did I would never want to be without him. That’s why I sacrificed so much for him when basically everyone else would have left him.

“No, Urs, you… You deserve better than me. I’m not well, you need to be with someone who is normal and, well, sane.” His voice cracked, his tone trailing off and his gaze fell to his lap.

“Sehun,” I grabbed his face and made him look me in the eyes, “Have you ever thought that maybe, just maybe, I need you? That’s what I need, Sehun. You. Not anyone else, you.”

“But-”

“No, no more arguing, angel, I forbid it,” I laughed and kissed his cheek, “I’ll be right back.” I stood up from the piano and smiled at him, he didn’t argue with me further. Instead, he went back to playing the piano while I exited the room to grab Suho. A reunion I hoped would do wonders for his recovery.

Before we knew it, winter came, and with winter comes Christmas. After the first initial visit with Suho, Sehun’s progress sped up more than it had been before. I remember talking to Suho later that night about the visit, and he opened up to me in a way he had never done before.

“He’s really starting to be back to the Sehun I met so many years ago. He’s reverting back to himself, it almost brings tears to my eyes to see how well his progress is going.” Suho had been serious the entire night, more serious than I had seen him in a long time, “Urs, I cannot tell you how thankful I am for you. You’re such an amazing person to do all of this. I know what he did to you must have been difficult to deal with, but the fact that you are still with him and helping him recover says a lot about the type of person you are. Thank you for loving him, he really deserves someone as dedicated as you.”

He had a point, there were months where I cried myself to sleep every night because of what happened. I didn’t sleep a night through for the longest of times, no matter what form of medications they put me on or what methods they tried to aid me. However, no matter what those events did to me I couldn’t bring myself to hate Sehun. I could never hate Sehun.

Sehun’s psychiatrist allowed him to come home for the holidays, he could only be home for a few days but I knew I would make every second of those few days count. On the ride home, he acted as if he were a kid on his way to the candy store. He was bouncing in his seat, all smiles and giggles. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t as excited as he was, though. My love was finally coming home. Only for a few short days, but he was coming home.

“This is home? Our home?” Sehun stared in awe at the entrance of our house. Vivi came running over to him, jumping up at him begging to be picked up. Sehun picked him up and took a few more steps into the house. He entered each room with the same amazed expression that he had the moment he laid eyes on the house.

I showed him our room, and the first thing he did was go jump on the bed and snuggle up with one of the decorative pillows. He hummed to himself and relaxed for a bit, “I’m so happy to be home… I can’t wait until I can be home for good.”

“Me neither, angel, me neither.” I laid down on the bed beside him and couldn’t help but stare in awe. Seeing him laying on our bed, looking so at peace with himself and the world, there are no words that could explain the pure bliss I felt at that moment.

On Sehun’s last day home, he and Suho decided to cook for all of us. The two of them in the kitchen brought back one fond memory in particular.

After dinner, I helped Suho in the kitchen with the dishes. “You have a dishwasher, don’t you?” I asked. “Yeah, but neither of us really like using it,” He said.

“Oh, both of you will make such wonderful housewives one day!” I nudged Suho on the shoulder, teasing him.

“Are you saying I’m spouse material?” Sehun came behind me with a smirk on his face.

“That’s for me to know, and you to find out.”

I helped Suho with the dishes, much like that day, and I couldn’t help but dwell on the comment I made to Sehun. Something about the memory made me feel sentimental, especially when I realized that Sehun never had found out my answer.

Dinner went along smoothly, Sehun kept feeding Vivi meatballs under the table thinking Suho and I weren’t noticing. When Suho made a joke to Sehun, he simply responded with, “Vivi loves his daddy the most because I spoil him. You’re just jealous~” Vivi yipped in response, then begged for another meatball which Sehun gave to him immediately. I smiled bitterly at the sight, knowing that in a few short hours it would all be over.

Later that night, before we were ready to take Sehun back, we had one last moment alone. We were sitting out on the back porch in a swing, I held him in my arms like it would be the last time I would see him. I peppered kisses atop of his head, his cheeks were flushed red the entire time.

“Sehun, do you remember a few months after we met when I joked about you and Suho being housewives? I said you would have to find out if I was saying you would be spouse material?” He looked up at me, silently saying yes, “Well, I’ve thought about it, and I think it’s time you find out. I’m not sure what I was thinking then, but now, you’re the perfect spouse material for me. I... I couldn’t imagine someone better.”

“But Urs-”

“Sehun, no listen, the past doesn’t matter to me now. Nothing that happened matters, what matters is what’s happening now. Right now, that’s what matters. I love you, I love you more than you can ever imagine. Having you here in my arms with me, I couldn’t ask for a better Christmas miracle. I’m here with you until the end, I swear on my life.” He sat up in a sitting position and I wrapped my arms tightly around him. I pet his head with my right hand, the left gently rubbed his back, “I love you, Sehun. Only you.”

“I love you too, Ursula. You make me so happy… I couldn’t ask for a better woman. You’re such an angel, you have to be. Thank you for staying with me, thank you for loving and helping me. You mean the world to me, I couldn’t imagine doing any of this without you.” Sehun sniffled, indicating that he had started crying. I pulled away and used my thumbs to wipe his tears, then I placed a chaste kiss on his forehead.

We held one another for the remaining minutes we had together, then it was time to say goodbye. I helped Sehun gather his things, making sure he had everything he needed before we left to take him back.

Suho wanted to join us, so we waited while he grabbed something from his room. While we were patiently waiting, a knock on the door sounded throughout the house. I checked the clock by the door to see it was almost 11:30pm, curious as to who would be knocking on our door around that time of night. Sehun kept close behind me as I went over to the front door, and when I opened the door his face darkened beyond all belief. In fact, he looked grimmer in that moment than ever before. The softhearted face that I had seen since him being home was gone, now it was replaced with a menacing one.

“Hey, who is at the-” Suho stopped halfway down the staircase. I looked over at him and he looked at Sehun, shocked to see his facial expression as well. Sehun still hadn’t removed his eyes from the person standing in the doorway, that’s when I decided to look at the stranger. I didn’t recognize him, but it seemed like Sehun didn’t like him in the least. He smiled Sehun’s glare off and introduced himself.

“Hi, I apologize that I am here so late. I live next door with my older brother, and I have just now gotten around to come introduce myself to you all,” He smiled at me, his eyes crinkling at the corner, “It’s nice to meet you,” He ignored Sehun and spoke to me directly, taking my hand in his.

“I’m Zitao, but you can call me Tao.”

Author’s Note: Ahh my baby is over 😭 I want to say a big thank you to everyone who tagged along with my first ever series and supported it! It means a lot to me 💜 Also, I hope you all enjoy the ending 😉 I know I did~

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john-is-on-the-rails · 7 years ago

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Fabio, Grooverider & Dusty Waffles

Hangover. Planning is taking a short sabbatical today as I grapple with the consequences of the strong beer I drank last night and those of his old chum tequila, who also made an unwelcome appearance. We went to see Fabio & Grooverider (90′s house legends, not an Italian electro-folk group as I originally assumed), at the Buttermarket in Shrewsbury. The building is grade II listed, from 1835 it was a butter warehouse, and funnily enough, I left well greased last night. See below for actual footage of me opening the curtains this morning.

I am 90% dust. Let me explain. ‘Dust’ is the code name that my friend Rachel and I use to describe the state of being dangerously dehydrated due to the excessive consumption of alcohol and lack of sleep. We coined it last summer during a camping trip. I say camping trip. What I mean is sitting in a tent in the rain getting pissed. After consuming half (whole) a bottle of gin the night before we were woken early by our friends, the Rouse family, in the adjacent tent. I heard the eldest of their daughters, Sadie, enthusiastically say “Daddy, can I go and wake uncle John up?”, to which Daddy’s equally enthusiastic reply was “Yes of course darling, I’m sure he would love that.” Thanks mate.

Little did we know we were waking to what will forever be known to us as ‘the day of dust’. We dragged ourselves on a ‘walk’, more like a gentle shamble on our part. Partway through, the aforementioned Sadie kindly offered a pack of caramel waffles to the group. Possibly the dryest biscuit on earth. To Rachel’s heavily dehydrated mind the very thought of increased dryness on the horizon was too much to bear. She slowly turned to me and simply whispered ‘dust’.

I, however, accepted the offer of a waffle. With immediate regret as it became lodged in the top of my mouth. The total lack of moisture in my body made this sticky situation inevitable. As Rachel and I rounded a corner, I extracted what I could of the waffle and flung it into the fern-covered hillside. Possibly hitting and killing one of the sheep grazing there with the sheer weight of the dusty thing. Seconds later Sadie rounded the corner and asked me if I enjoyed the waffle. “It was lovely”, I said, still trying to dislodge the last remnants of it from my mouth. So, there we have it. The tale of dust.

I also had a craving for pom bears this morning. Inexplicable. I’ve never trusted the king pom bear. He has an air of arrogance about him, dressed up in his finery. Crown and neck-tie, lording it over the ordinary poms. The pom bear itself is a strange creature, the only bear to have an obviously visible belly button and the ability to form their mouths into smiles. Creepy. As with much propaganda, the message as sold does not always live up to reality. I open the bag to reveal a maelstrom of pom bear destruction. Severed limbs and heads, deformities of all kinds. Miles away from the happy image on the packet. As with many things in life, opening the bag and taking a look inside can reveal the truth behind the lie.

#blog travel interrail pombears dust

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cloverdarling · 7 years ago

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okay so i’m going to try and write this post as humanly as possible--currently fighting the urge to edit and write in the poetic way in which i am so naturally inclined to write.

in this first week of october 2017, i’ve made a very clear resolution that i will be working actively on bettering my mental health. i’ve picked up a new hobby of taking long walks and listening to podcasts during the day. this afternoon, i felt like an absolute lunatic walking through the busy suburbs and openly crying while listening to one podcast. my god, the resilience that people have...it’s truly, truly inspiring. it’s a funny thing, really; i think it’s safe to say that most people have an idea of our futility and impending expiration, and yet, we hold fast. ****************i digress.

pursuing art dreams is *hard. it is satisfying in that, regardless of whatever other career i might’ve pursued, i would have been undoubtedly regretting not trying out art for size. so i know i’m in the right place. that’s a good thing. now, just about everything else about it is *difficult.

*just a second: i fully understand that these are, for lack of a better phrase, “first world problems”. yes, 100%. fully. the world is currently in shambles. people don’t eat, sleep; people are sick/dying. i’m lucky to be alive. i’m lucky to have a tool with which i can express my thoughts. i’m privileged. and so so lucky to have the space and time to reflect on my own life. i’m lucky to have even had an education that has helped me form my voice. i’m lucky to have a voice. i’m lucky. in all definitions. at the very same time, the words “hard” and “difficult” are relative terms, and so, with that i continue:

i fall in and out of these depressions. some last a long time and i’m unaware that they’re even happening until i’m fully out of them and can look back at them with clear eyes and take a deep, heavy sigh of relief. and some are short. some might call them funks. i’ve been very aware of these periods of time since having graduated from university. there have been many.

i’m writing this post because i think it is vital that i can read this in the future and remember what it was like to be 23--what my first year out of college was really like.

challenge #1: creating my own schedule. for many months after graduating, i overslept. i didn’t have any real reason to wake up. that sounds dramatic, but at face value, it was true. i did’t have an agenda. as an actor, auditions are sporadic, at best, and one is given very little notice as to when they will happen. even then, for many months after graduating, i didn’t even have a manager. so i didn’t even have auditions. it was hard to wake up. i spent so very much of my time while in school dreaming of how my life would be once i had finally graduated--once i could finally be the thing and do the thing i had always wanted to be/do. and here it was, staring me in the face. the celebrations were over. the vacation period was over. everyone was back to work. and i couldn’t seem to wake up, for fear that now that it finally could happen, it wouldn’t. because maybe it was never meant to be. and maybe it hadn’t happened yet, because it couldn’t. the other thing that is important to mention, is that pursuing art isn’t a “just do it” sort of thing. although it might be encouraging that there are many paths to success in this industry, it’s also daunting that there isn’t a set formula to adhere by. my entire life, i’ve been taught that you can do anything you set your mind to. well, you can bet your ass i’ve been setting my mind to this career...so, now what? it often feels as though i’m swimming in wide, open water, paddling incredibly hard and efficiently but with...no direction. again, that kind of thing is hard to wake up to. i’d sleep through every alarm and wake up just oh-so pissed at myself; pissed at myself for being like “this”.

that kind of thing still happens every now and then. but mostly, i am happy to report that i wake up in the morning these days.

you know, i fully intended on writing a short and sweet excerpt/summary of how my life has been, but as is the trend with me, i’ve gotten up on my soap box. it seems i want to update on my every breath. that’s ridiculous.

social media is so entirely toxic. so toxic, my god. what is wrong with everyone? i’m talking about instagram, more specifically. why are we so bent on perfection? we know that there is no such standard--no real one, with that...and yet, we try to set this unattainable bar. it’s something alien. and you know what’s wild about all of it? everyone you talk to about social media will echo similar sentiments. but here we are! all partaking in such an awful, laughable habit. it’s gross. i’m trying to gain control of my life again. of course, that means letting go of instagram. i’ll get there. the problem is that as time moves on, the ~importance~ of instagram grows in this industry. so i’m stuck straddling this stupid line of “update your instagram & grow your brand/following” and “stay true to you & don’t fall too deep into the falsity”!!! i’m teetering. this is the second challenge.

i’m working on this by spending time with real people during the daytime; going on walks; consuming art; making art; baking; and just generally getting back to me. i used to be afraid of looking in the mirror. i think that started freshman year of college. i think i’m starting to remember that the things that make us unique are the things that make us strong and wonderful and god damned magical.

i should mention that all of these things are not revolutionary. far from revolutionary. but i just constantly need reminders. one day, they’ll cement. and then i’ll be having to remind myself of something else...something else that is so fundamentally human.

i’ve lost my train of thought. on my walk today, i found some gorgeous little homes. and by “found” i think i mean, i really just looked up from my little veronica bubble. and i created these narratives of the people that live in these stunning, quaint, unique homes. and the people that lived there before. i think i just want to build a little unique home. no one cares about the industry. i think i’ve given it too much weight. it will happen when it’s time. until then, i will be so much more than an actor. i’m a fully human being. one with goals outside of the television.

maybe that’s all i really wanted to say when i sat down to type this out. maybe all of this has been just me trying to prove to myself that i’m more than the label i’ve given myself. that’s important to differentiate. it’s me. it’s always been me. i’ve been in my way. the whole time.

okay. here we go. i’m getting out of my own way. que será será. in the meantime, you can find me on a long stroll, taking on too-big canvases, and taking photos of neighborhood homes. i’d like to build my own home.

thank you for listening, universe. (and you, wherever you are.)

ronnie

6 notes · View notes

aviationfiction · 8 years ago

Text

XIX

Autumn Dupont

It’ll get better.

This is a new beginning for you.

Though it may hurt now, ultimately, you will realize that it’s for the better.

Now is the time for your personal growth.

Some people believe that holding on and working on it is what makes you strong; sometimes it’s letting go that is the strongest act that one can do.

I’ve heard it all.

I have pages and pages of a marble notebook filled with the many different quotes and words of advice that I’ve been given in reference to divorce from Dr. Jill, my parents, Issac, and friends. Though I didn’t do it out right, I eventually laughed at every single one of them for loosely offering advice for a circumstance that none of them have gone through. Human beings tend to believe they’re expects on every situation when it has nothing to do with their life and livelihood. There’s an arrogance within that. It often comes into play when life is good on their end. For that reason, they can happily assess your incompetence or shambles of a life, to figure out where not to go wrong in their own, and finally to offer you a charade of advice. It’s always from their perspective; what they would and wouldn’t do if they were in your shoes. It’s rare to have someone step outside of themselves and actually view what’s happening to you from your eyes; to feel the pain and severity of the situation and finally, to understand the hardship. I’ve flipped through those pages endlessly, reading every single piece of advice I decided that a mental note was enough for, and none of it soothes me or has prepared me for what I am facing today. It hasn’t aided in the much needed closure I don’t believe I’m ever going to get. Instead, I’ve been left internally conflicted and confused because I’m not sure if what I’m feeling is the correct way to go about this. I’d love to have the divorce party, where my friends and I cheerfully toss back endless amounts of alcohol, dance to our favorite tunes, and verbally trash every single trait about my husband. If not that, I’d love to sign those papers and walk out of there in my high heels feeling liberated and confident in the decision that I personally made for the betterment of myself. I’ve imagined it all by letting it play out like some heavily directed alternate universe scene out of a dramatic sitcom but my reality is anything but that.

I had a session with Dr. Jill yesterday evening and we discussed the stages of heartbreak that she swears by. Though she admitted there are different therapists and psychological doctors who will pan out anywhere between five and ten stages, she lives by the lucky number seven. We spent nearly three hours discussing these stages with no regard for her paid time or my much needed breath of fresh air from the intensity of her office. First, I’d been desperate for answers. Actually, I still am desperate for the necessary words or even excuses to fill in these holes that I have. The demise of my marriage has been a difficult puzzle to piece together on my own and the other party involved has been no help in bring it all to perspective. According to Andreas, it’s my fault. It’s the only way he’s made sense of our beginning, our middle, and finally, our destructive ending. I’ve yet to truly debate anyone about it; just myself. It’s a conversation that my mind has with itself when I first wake up in the morning and as I lay awake in bed at night tossing and turning with a dire hope to sleep, so the bitter thoughts will temporarily cease. The denial was strong; stronger than I needed it to be. Shane’s death heightened it. The stroke was my wake up call. I don’t know why, but when I hit the wooden floor of my parent’s entry hall clutching my head while my surroundings blackened, I knew right then and there that Andreas wasn’t returning to me. It wasn’t the arguments over the phone that ended in him angrily hanging up on me, my rants about the death of my sibling to guilt him about his neglect, or my deteriorating mental health. It took my mind and body suddenly feeling like I was on the brink of a young and sudden demise to understand we were irrevocably broken.

Bargaining? Oh I did plenty of that. Suggested marriage counseling? Check. Worked on myself? Check. Attempted to figure out what I wasn’t doing right? Check. Hell, I even worked on my appearance. I did my best to tackle every possibility there was to fix us and came up short. We haven’t relapsed. At one point, I wished we did. I desired for us to foolishly allow ourselves to toss our emotional sorrows aside and to get caught up into the physical aspect of our love, so we’d have no choice but to confront what tore us apart at some later point. He didn’t need my body anymore. Amber came into the picture to fill every physical void he was experiencing and seemingly has done a much better job than I ever could have. The anger I feel is beyond what woulds can ever express. It has taken me on this roller coaster ride of mental and physical responses to what’s happened. I scream, yell, cry, and blank out. I’ve punched a few things; knock over plenty of delicates. I’ve ripped pictures and even thrown the rings a couple of times. Dr. Jill has always told me that my anger is empowering because it is within those moments that I step outside of Andreas and realize that what I feel matters just as much. I stop worrying about what wasn’t right for him and acknowledge what hadn’t been right for me and all the hurt he’s inflicted upon me. It’s not victimizing. I don’t want to be a victim. It’s a reminder that I may actually deserve better and possibly more than I was given. Within the anger, somewhere in there, I’m telling myself the truth. I’ve come to accept this. I’ve surrendered. I’ve withheld this divorce for long enough and dragging it along is no longer beneficial for my emotions or childish thoughts of revenge. We’re not meant to be and though it’s taken quite some time for me to come to terms with that; I have. It’s painful to let my connection to my husband go but it’s far more painful to contain it with an idiotic hope that somehow it’ll all work itself out.

It’s over.

We’re over.

Love’s over.

Late last night, I was assured of my choice in a blush toned figure fitting pencil dress that I keep in the back of the closet for those days of necessary professionalism, but the high eighties Miami weather convinced me to leave it lying in my garment bag. Instead, I opted for a fairly new pair of acid washed, blue denim, cut off shorts I purchased from the California based revolutionized brand Runwaydreamz. The holes, rips, and frayed styled could easily scream hipster poser at Coachella, but with my elongated legs and caramel skin, they were a nice choice for the scenery of this beach front hotel. My choice of a top was an ode to my brother. Shane had a love for vintage t-shirts and created arguably the most ridiculous collection of them. He’d lay around his apartment using rags soaked in Clorox to bleach various parts of them and would use razors to intricately cut rips, holes, and fringe type of styles into the material. As his little sister and favorite muse, I reaped the benefits of either stealing them out of the closet that was specifically for them without a verbal lashing or he’d run around the city grabbing shirts for the both of us to create matching masterpieces that we’d go out in. He made this Motley Crue top about four years ago, here in Miami, after we spent the morning running around visiting numerous thrift shops. By that night, I was wearing his bleached, distressed, and slashed up creation while tossing back Jamaican rum and tooting my tail end up towards the ceiling as we danced to reggae, soca, and kompa classics at some little hole in the wall spot in Little Haiti. Now I’m wearing this top as an armor; a piece of him to cling to me and console me through what I wish he was here to hold my hand for. A mixture of tough and soft love; the soft often edged out the tough and he happily basked in his position as my earthly protector from all. Though it’s just threads of fabric, it’s a representation of the embodiment of him being threaded within me; within my soul. Knowing that should be enough to hold me up as I sit before two lawyers and my husband.

“Autumn, it’s mom.” She’s the only person who calls and announces her title and relationship just about every single time as if her name and number aren’t stored in my phone book or her position in my life hasn’t been engraved into my being for twenty six years. Occasionally it’s funny, but today, I am in no mood for my mother or her sometimes intentionally annoying antics.

“Hey.” I glanced between the black and white classic Converse All Stars and the Sophia Webster sandals resting on the bed and opted for the sandals. The black, pink, and orange cameo effect on the knotted cage shoes is a perfect pair with the shorts and vintage tee. Their vertiginous height would further enhance my legs.

“Where are you honey? Lauren and I landed about forty five minutes ago and we’ve checked into the hotel. We’re going to change and I figured we could catch an early brunch. Heather’s bridal shower isn’t until later on and we’re starving. What do think?”

“That sounds nice but I cannot join you. I’m extremely busy. You two go ahead and enjoy yourselves.”

“Surely you can take an hour of your time to spend it with your mother. I’m not negating your time consuming tasks but come on. I feel like I haven’t seen you in weeks. I’d like to have a meal with my child.” I listened to her huff as a bit of guilt slithered through my frame. Between work and this divorce, she’s accurate about us seeing less of one another but this is what she wanted. I’ve been living in her home and under both she and my father’s care for about two years now. After my release from the hospital, I’ve been cooped up in my second floor bedroom, wallowing in depression and boredom, for far too long. Dr. Jill has been my only escape and I had nothing to say to the woman for quite some time. My mother’s been nudging and persuading me to pick up and move on with my life; to let Andreas go and become anew again. Now that I’m officially working towards that, she’s questioned my job, my whereabouts, and now, how I’m using my time. She’s arguably the most backwards person I know.

“I can’t. Maybe another time? Possibly tomorrow if you’ll still be in town.”

“You gave me the same excuse when you came home two days ago.”

“I had to get ready to travel down here. You cannot fault me for that. You’re not being fair.”

“Okay. I apologize. I just miss you that’s all. It’s what us moms do. I worry. I’ll let you go and I’ll see you at the shower. Okay?” The defeat in her tone heightened the guilt within me as I finished pulling up the zipper on my right foot sandal. They older I’ve become, the harder it is to censor myself and cater to her need to shower me with her endless affection and meddling. Maybe it’s not my age but rather my circumstances. Affection is just not what I need right now; it’s not what I want.

“Okay.”

“I love you honey. Lauren says hi.”

“I love you too. I’ll see you later on.”

I tossed my phone on the bed; leaving her to end the call and quickly headed in the bathroom to apply another coat of the gold shimmering and warm peach Yves Saint Laurent lip gloss I grabbed out of Sephora in the city just yesterday afternoon. I went on a last minute and extremely panicked shopping run for a dress appropriate enough for today’s festivities. I thought I’d be able to nab something out of my closet and be satisfied with that. There wasn’t anything that particularly grabbed my attention so Glen happily drove me from store to store until I found an entire ensemble for this afternoon. Sephora was my last stop. I needed to grab another bottle of my favorite Armani Luminous Silk Foundation. The additional lip glosses, tubes of lipstick, and mascara was just me spoiling myself for the hell of it and upgrading the mediocre make up collection I have in my parents home.

While heading in the direction of the suite’s door, I tossed the lip gloss in yet another bag I’ve taken out of my mother’s closet. This time it’s her pink vintage Chanel bag that I’m praying I return back to it’s original place on the wooden shelf before she can ever notice it’s missing. She’s given me permission to borrow whatever I like…unless it’s vintage. I’m sure to earn her infamous glare if she notices that it’s gone.

“Excuse me.” I stepped out of the elevator and picked up my pace as I neared the doors of the Mandarin’s entrance. I bid the doorman a proper thank you as I exited and immediately slid into the already opened back of the awaiting SUV. He’d been waiting for me for about twenty minutes now. I’d taken far more time than needed flat ironing my hair. I thought about it curling it but the Miami humidity would have ruined it as soon as I stepped out into it.

“I’m heading to two six six five South Bayshore Drive.” As the driver closed the driver’s side door behind himself, he glanced at me through the rear view mirror and nodded his head with a small smile.

“That’s about fifteen minutes away from here ma’am. Traffic is down. We should be there shortly.”

“Thank you.”

I was looking forward to him forewarning me about a bit of traffic or even abruptly running into a bit of it on the way there. I’ve stalled myself with the flat ironing and I needed yet another interruption to mentally prepare myself for what’s to come. I’ve rehearsed lines, coached myself into avoiding all possibilities of crying, and mentally beat myself down to a pulp so Andreas wouldn’t be able to do it to me. I’ve run down every possible emotionally insulting, dismissive, and unreasonable comment he could verbally slap me with and I meshed the tears in with the running water immersing from the stainless steel shower head as I cleansed myself. The last time I had a genuine meltdown over that man, I woke up with tubes all over the place and the reddened eyes and distraught expression of my mother’s beautiful face. I will not give him that power once more. More than anything, I will never do that to my mother again. I will never forget my father tensely describing how her piercing screams rang out throughout their entire home as she clutched my body in her arms and wailed to God for my life. She pleaded and offered him all, including her own life, in exchange for mine. My father described what seemed like a shell of himself as he watched the paramedics wheel me out of the house. Though I wish I could have seen it myself, he described a frantic Issac who used his boisterous voice and intimidating demeanor to nearly bully the hospital’s staff and two of it’s board members to make sure the best of the best were in charge of my care. Their promises didn’t stop him from calling friends and friends of friends who could reach out to some of the best neurologists in the country. Even when I was awake and just about completely alert, it didn’t stop him from walking the hall giving orders as if he were recently appointed the Chief of Staff. I don’t live for them but I do take their love into consideration. Enough is enough. I’ve exhausted all of them, including Heather, with this part of my life. I no longer have the will power within me to further it.

I thought of you when I woke up this morning and I’ve contemplated on whether I should send this or not for a couple of hours. My conscious won the battle. I wish you all the best today. Let me know if you’re okay later, please.

My fingers tapped along the screen of my phone and it was my turn to contemplate if I should say anything to him. My pain won the battle as I clicked the lock button and slid it back into my purse. Thoughts of Dante seized my brain as soon as I checked into the Mandarin yesterday. This has become my go to hotel whenever I’m in Miami since meeting him and I’m reminded of the time we spent together together watching the moonlight dance along the Biscayne Bay. Whenever I go to and from the entrance, I cannot refrain from flashing back to the evening he was standing there waiting for me. Because of the incredible time he showed me at Palmeiras, I’ve booked the beach club for Heather’s bachelorette party. We parted on somewhat of a confusing note after such a sublime time in Paris, but it was necessary to minimize any further assumptions or confusion we may form between one another or at least on my end of what has already crossed the line of professionalism. I miss him and that should be forbidden within itself. With every conversation and moments spent exploring some location in the world I’ve never experienced before, I bask in how cultured he is and it heightens my avidity to learn more from him. The glances into his penetrating almond shaped brown eyes and his overall striking countenance entices my body in manners that leave me mentally abashed. His mannerisms and demeanor reek of power, control, and a confidence in who he is that serves as a representation of his masculinity and leadership within his manhood. His allure nearly has me in a choke hold and my internal battle against it has resulted in nothing more than multiple loses.

Issac would not only fire me but he’d verbally rip me to shreds of nothingness if he picked up on even the slightest hint of Dante and I being anything beyond employer and employee. He’d then turn it into yet another example of me being an impulsive, irresponsible, and childish “rebel” and further feed into my family’s quiet thoughts about my lack of self control and responsibility. I’d be the subject of company gossip and never escape the unwavering scrutiny about the perks I am sure to be receiving in exchange for me possibly sleeping with one of the company’s wealthiest clients. Rachel would scold me for having followed in the footsteps that she warned me about. Lastly, I’d have to berate myself for treading into uncharted waters once more. To expect a different result this time would be absurdly foolish.

“Ma’am. Your destination is just one building down.” He interrupted my chain of thought as he pointed towards the window and I nodded my head as I secured my bag over my shoulder.

“You don’t have to get out. I got it. Thank you.”

The warm air was the perfect contrast to the chills running down my spine as I neared the front entrance. Upon my entry, the cool central air blew at me with an unexpected force as soon as I stopped at the wall directory to search for the appointed floor of suite twelve zero four. The elevator ride up was filled with the churning of my stomach and the spinach omelette I forced myself to eat for breakfast began to reappear at the very end of my esophagus. I could barely subside the contents from threatening to completely come up into my mouth. As the ride came to an end and the metal doors slowly pulled themselves apart, my feet began to drag themselves down the hall. The sound of my heels scraping the marble caused a faint ringing in my ears. I could only wonder if my purposeful lagging aggravated the receptionist who leaned over her desk to find the source of the noise. The smile on her face caught my attention but her greeting never registered. As my eyes landed on the woman comfortably waiting in a leather black lounge chair, my stomach suddenly dropped to the heels of my feet and my throat tensed until it was tight enough to bring me to the brink of suffocation.

The future Mrs. Andreas Scott Harrington sat back in her seat staring at the double doors of the conference room with a visible expression of incertitude. As her fingers danced along her extremely protruded belly, a soft sigh slipped past her lips and finally, she turned to find me within her presence. She froze, as her glistening skin suddenly flushed into a hue of pink and her brown eyes widened in unison with her mouth falling agape. My expression remained blank as I glared at a small piece of the puzzle that is my pain. Beyond Andreas’ actions, I’m disappointed in her as a woman. It’s her stubbornness and willful blindness about her participating in the demise of my marriage that urges me to slap the shit out of her on my worse days and leaves me shaking my head on my calm ones. I cannot fathom how she isn’t capable of hypothetically putting herself into my shoes and fearing that she too will be on the other side of this happy life she believes she’s created with him one of these days. Does she believe that the universe and the way this world turns will always work out in her favor? Will their recklessness have no consequence? The bliss clearly isn’t forever; or maybe that’s just my story.

“Mrs. Harrington you’re right on time. Everything is all set up in the conference room. Mr. Harrington arrived just a few minutes ago.” I nearly choked at the sound of my marital name and the grimace on Amber’s face sparked my own. Suddenly I felt like nothing more than a forgotten about possession on Andreas’ memorabilia shelf in his office within our home. We both belong to him. The man has his wife and pregnant mistress within the presence of one another as he sits in a conference room anticipating himself finishing off the shattering of one of our hearts. Though I didn’t expect to see Amber lingering around awaiting this entire process to be over, I am not surprised that she made the decision to attend. What intrigues me about this woman’s presence is her lack of glee. There’s a tension radiating from her dainty frame that wasn’t so apparent when we crossed paths in my kitchen. The confidence has receded and the questioning look her eyes holds a tale that I have no interest in knowing.

“Thank you.” I bid the tiny woman a small smile as I walked ahead and for the first time, I didn’t hesitate. I entered the conference room and closed the door behind myself; ending Amber’s determination to burn a blazing hole into my back.

“Ah. She finally arrives.” I glanced over at Sorrell Trope who held a smirk on his face that I wasn’t expecting to see. He’d been very displeased with my method of handling this divorce ever since our first meeting with one another and I only furthered his aggravation and disappointment whenever he’d plan out new strategies to make sure I left my marriage with a bank account filled with Andreas’ earnings.

“Hello.” I couldn’t force a smile or even muster up the strength to wave at any of them as Mr. Trope pulled out a seat for me on his side of the table. The set of eyes that I’d fallen head over heels in love with were observing my every move as I sat deliberately across from him. My internal challenge to avoid making eye contact with him already failed twice and I’ve only been in the room for less than a minute. He made it no easier by never breaking his gaze and nearly placing his hands towards the tips of my fingers as they rested on the table. The four stacks of papers and the two personalized pens to the right of the table caught my attention as a breath of air slowly flowed past my lips. They’d need my signature about a million times before this would be all over with.

“Hello Autumn. We haven’t met in person but I’m Raymond Rafool, Andreas’ lawyer. I’ve been in constant communication with Mr. Trope about the proceedings and the negotiating between both you and Andreas. You two opted out of continuing to go to the mediating sessions and there were no court appointed sessions that were legally required to attempt to move both you and Andreas towards a final resolution on the issues that stand between the two of you. There were no marriage counselors involved and if there were, they have no standing in this proceeding or any ones prior to this final step. There are no children involved so custody, visitation, or child support is not relevant to this proceeding or the settlement involved. In going back and forth between you two, there have been no issues in which you two absolutely cannot come to an agreement with one another on so there is no need for a trial. Honestly, that’s a good thing, because not only does that prolong this process but it is also costly and the results are less predictable depending upon what the circumstances of both parties are. Mr. Rafool have drawn up the legal paper work necessary to dissolve your marriage and we’ve both carefully looked over each document to assure that everything is absolutely the way you’ve requested.” His words were going into one ear and directly out of the other as I twirled my thumbs around one another endlessly and stared at the window directly behind Andreas. The blind shield my eyes from the world but I took it upon myself to imagine what was happening outside. Thoughts of half naked women cheerily skipping or skating down the sidewalk while immersed into lighthearted conversations about their activities about the night before and young men childishly howling in the direction while walking along in their summer garb; a few with surfboard strapped to their backs; was far more interesting to think about than this.

“Autumn.”

“What?” The harshness in my voice nearly startled me just as much as it did everyone in the room as I gave Andreas the attention he called for. In his usual fashion, he widened his ocean blue eyes at me and slightly shook his head in disdain for me answering him in such a manner. He always hated for me to snap at him or raise my voice though he often did it with me. Our shouting matches often became a competition for the two of us with me working my hardest to win. There were days I’d challenge myself to see just how quickly I could get him to walk away from me or walk out of our home in anger. I had to find the fun in my misery.

“Did you hear what Mr. Trope said?” I hadn’t even noticed he’d slid one of the stacks of paper in the middle of the table and he’d placed a pen in front of both and Andreas and I.

“Autumn. I know what we spoke about many times over our phone conferences and while I do understand how assured you are in your position, Andreas brought a second possibility to the table that he’d like to discuss with you. Well, we all will discuss it. You don’t have to agree to it. It is your legal right to refuse. Mr. Rafool handled every single detail precisely and I spent the last couple of days going over every single detail to make sure it is proper and fair.”

“What the hell did you do?” I turned to look at my husband again. I can’t stand to do another month, week, or even a day of this nonsense. I refuse to. I no longer have the will power to mentally prepare myself for every blow this gut wrenching process forcibly takes on my mind and heart.

“I want to give you twenty million dollars.” He leaned forward, with his elbows resting on the table, and he glared into my eyes in that all too convincing look he’d give me whenever he was either offering me false hope about something I wanted from him, bidding me a promise that he knew he’d break without ever considering it, and lastly convincing me to consider or do something that worked out in his favor far more than it did in mine. With his seniority in age, education, professionalism, and finance, he would always operate in a manner that reeked of him believing that he knew what was best for me without him ever verbally saying so. Initially, I didn’t bite back. I enjoyed having a man taking the lead and making sure I was in a good position without me ever having to request it but it also became my enslavement to his mind and deceptive behaviors.

“Twenty million dollars? You’ve gone from twelve to twenty? Seriously?” I laughed out loud as his jaw tightened. He tosses around these estimates and prices to buy me out of this situation with no regard for what all of this actually means. I’ve heard the commentary from media personalities. I’ve read around about the large sums divorcees have gotten from their significant others and I’ve seen the lavish lifestyles that they’ve living but I can only wonder if that clears their conscious of all of the hurt and anger that had to happen in order for them to attain it. Is that what it all comes to? Is that supposed to be redemption for all the damage on his end? “No.”

“No? What do you mean no? You’re being senseless and you’ve been behaving that way since we began this process.” He knocked his knuckles on the table hard enough to draw three sets of eyes on him and I aloofly sat back in the chair with a shrug of my shoulders in response to what is most likely going to turn into a verbal attack on my intelligence, character, and personality.

“I don’t want your money. What part of that don’t you understand? You had me sign a prenuptial agreement because your obsessive and controlling mother dropped numerous hints into your ear about it and I did so without a fight. I didn’t question it. I even did so without a lawyer which is damn near illegal. I wasn’t thinking about your money before I signed it, when I signed it, and I’m certainly not thinking about it now. Keep it Andreas. You’ve earned it. It’s yours. It’ll be far more beneficial to you than it is to me. You don’t have to pay your way out of this. I’d just like to sign these papers and go. Let’s do what we originally came here for. Fuck all of these extra negotiations. This is a divorce. It’s not a business deal.” As he stood to his feet, his lawyer oddly stood along with him and he bewilderingly stared at Andreas as he walked around to my side of the table and pointed at the double doors.

“Can we have the room please?”

“What?” Mr. Trope questioned him in confusion and Andreas continue to point at the door.

“Can you two step outside. I’d like to speak with my wife in private.” My eyes widened and a sarcastic chuckle followed as the word “wife” echoed in my mind repeatedly. I haven’t heard him use that possessive term in quite some time and if I’m lucky, I’ll never have to hear him or anyone else ever use that word in reference to me again once I exit this building today. I failed at that position. I didn’t live up to the standard of what it means to be a wife and he never gave me the chance to redeem myself. At this point, I don’t even know what it means to be a wife nor do I ever want to know. I don’t ever want to be here, in this position again.

“Okay. Raymond, let’s give them some privacy. We’ll be right outside.”

As the door closed behind the two older men, I hoped Andreas would return to his seat but instead he stood, towering over my frame and roughly breathing over me as if we’d already been fighting for fifteen to twenty minutes like we usually do. Before we could make it past a longer time frame than that, he would have already locked himself in his den or grabbed his car keys and left out for a couple of hours; sometimes even for the rest of the day or night. I’ve spent more nights alone in our bed than I’ve spent cuddling with him because of the team being on the road, him traveling for business, or our feuds. I grew so accustomed to him not being in the bed to the point of it sometimes being uncomfortable when he was along side me. As the distance continued to grow between us and within our marriage, I found myself sleeping on the edge of the bed whenever he’d join me. Though our king size bed was sizable enough to keep a decent extent of space between our bodies, he had the tendency to roll into the middle of the bed and just about on my side, so being on the edge kept me away from him. I don’t sleep in the bed with anyone at all now and yet I still sleep on the very edge because of my habits with him.

“Getting me alone isn’t going to help you convince me to take that settlement. You constantly talk about how stubborn I am but here you are not taking no for an answer. Now who’s the stubborn one?” I purposefully pushed my chair back to garner some space between he and I. As he backed away, I quickly stood up and stepped away from the table.

“Because I want to help you.”

 “Bullshit. You want your conscious clear. That’s really what this is all about. You want to be able to walk out here knowing that you made sure I was alright, so you can move on with your life without guilt tripping over everything that happened to get us to this point. I wasn’t perfect but we’re not going to stand here and play like the blame balances out. Your part in this is far bigger than mine. You think that you can pay me to make this right?” With a sigh, he ran his hand down his face and shook his head in clear frustration. He couldn’t possibly feel any more frustrated than I do.

“This isn’t about me. This is about you. You have to start over and get back on your feet and you cannot do that with nothing. You’re currently residing with your parents. Don’t you want to be able to move out? Do you have a car in New Jersey because if I remember correctly, you don’t. You’re going to have bills to pay. You want to go back to school. Universities aren’t free. Graduate degrees aren’t free. You need the basic necessities and so much more beyond that. Instead of being stubborn, do this for yourself. Do this for the sake of your own happiness.”

“So that you can know and say that you’re responsible for it? This isn’t about me, it’s because you. I don’t care how you try to map this out. If I walk away with that settlement, literally anything that I do you will accredit to yourself and I don’t want that. I want to be able to say and know that I earned it, whether I have to struggle and bust my ass to be able to have it. I don’t want your charity Andreas.” As he took steps towards me, I took more than enough steps backward to leave me nearly on the opposite side of the room. The frown on his face was harsher than my own.

“You’ve been married to me for six years. When the hell have I become that arrogant? I have never thrown anything back in your face. Are you kidding me?”

“You didn’t have to say it. It was your actions. How don’t you understand that? Your demeanor said it all. I am beneath you. You have done and accomplished far more than I ever have. You are the bread winner. I was in a position of dependency which allowed you to damn near run all over me whenever you saw fit to do so. I had to stay in my place on so many decisions that you made for the both of us because I was merely your stay at home wife. That’s not arrogance. It’s control. You had all of the control and I’m not going to allow you to control my subconscious by doing this. I’m tired Andreas. I have fought for you, I have fought for our marriage, and I’ve fought to save myself in the midst of all it and I’m mentally exhausted. I reached the point of physical exhaustion and had a stroke. Stop fighting me. I don’t want to fight you anymore. I’ve given you so much of myself and now I’m giving you one final request. Give me something. Let me walk away with a peace of mind.”

“You don’t feel like I’ve given you anything in these past six years? Nothing?” For the first time in the past couple of years, I saw a glimpse of the kind hearted man I fell in love with during the final teen year of my life. Those beautiful eyes softened, the hardened expression on his face dissipated, and the undeniable charm that I immediately latched myself to on the evening we shared our first cup of coffee together in our favorite little cafe swarmed me and thickened the tension radiating between our souls.

“Lessons. I learned so many in these past six years. Our glory days were beautiful. It’s almost laughable to look back on that timeframe and then to fast forward to where we are now. It’s unbelievable but I should have known better. The signs were there. You didn’t want this. Your hesitance, questions, and fears were all there and I tuned it out; you did too. All of this isn’t on you. As I said, I have my part in it. I became so addicted to you and the love. I couldn’t slow down, turn back, or let it go. I believed you’d continue to give me a never-ending emotional high until the end of my days and I should have never given you that much responsibility. I put too much on you. I pressured you. You just didn’t put a stop to it. You saw all of this coming from the very beginning and you didn’t stop it. Our relationship turned into this speeding train and we finally crashed; leaving fatal damage. I learned a lot about myself. I have some growing up to do; certainly. I don’t have it all together and I need to work on myself for a while. I have quite a bit to figure out. You took care of me. I cannot deny that. I was housed, fed, clothed, and I had the finances necessary for leisurely fun but I don’t think you considered me to be your wife, Andreas. I was a responsibility; a bill. I don’t want to become a twenty million dollar bill. Take the money and put it into a trust fund for your unborn child. Just let this go. Please.”

Silence fell between the two of us as we solemnly stared into one another’s eyes. The minimal strength I’d mustered up earlier gradually began to unravel as my eyes began to ache and fail the battle. The stinging followed with a flush of salty water and the stream began to flow down my face with no sign of halting. A knot formed in my throat at the sight of the sea of blue suddenly being surrounding by a hue of red. As weakness entrapped him, he suddenly glanced away and gave me his back to see. His head seeped lower with eyes panning to the floor and his confidence faded into the abyss.

Without a second of hesitation, I opened the door and signaled for our counsel to return to the room. There was nothing more either one of us needed to say to one that mattered, would change our fate, or would heal the gaping scars we’ve left on one another over the years.

Our fate is sealed.

“We’ve chosen to go with what we originally settled on.” Andreas made the announcement of our final choice as I pulled a piece of tissue out of the box to the left of me and dappled the corners of my eyes. It became a pointless task as my abdomen tightened and another set of parting tears rapidly cascaded down my face.

“Okay. We’ve placed a sticker that says sign here next to every single place that needs your signature. Once you’ve placed your signature on all of the documents, you’re done here.”

My fingers reached for the maroon pen as Mr. Trope slid the packet directly in front of me and I spent just a couple of seconds staring at the first page of our ending before I began to sign page after page until I finally reached the very end. In one final step, I slipped my hand into the silk pocket inside of the Chanel bag and retrieved the two rings I donned on my left hand ring finger the past six years and carefully placed them on top of the packet before sliding it in his direction.

His eyes set on the rings and finally, on me. He then slightly nodded his head as I stood up and used the back of my legs to push the chair away. He opened his mouth to speak but his words remained stuck in his throat while I placed the strap of the bag over my shoulder.

“Goodbye Andreas.”

Those were the final words I said to my ex-husband as I exited the room and his life.

“All of the gifts go right over there on that corner table with the lavender lace.”

My eyes panned over the sea of pastels covering just about the entirety of the villas backyard space and I nodded my head in content of what Janice and I had done to appease Heather on one of her many special days. Though she slyly scolded me every now and then for slacking on my maid of honor duties, little did she know, her mother and I had been going back forth over multiple phone calls, text messages, and e-mails to get this bridal shower together in a timely manner. We already had the color scheme figured out. Heather is by far the most feminine woman I know. She basks in whimsical shades and gleams at all things dainty. What we couldn’t agree upon for a few weeks was the theme. We bounced around from website to website picking apart what has been done before and eventually settled on one of her favorite pastimes as a child: a tea party. The vintage materials and pastels as well as the outdoor setting were my ideas. We envision lacy umbrellas, tons of garland, glitter, personalized desserts and tea bags, tulle table skirts and pastel tissue tassels. Though she’ll tell you it’s cliche, her favorite flower is the rose so we made sure one of the best florists in Miami collaborated with the decorating team to cover every single area of the dreamy garden in peach, yellow, salmon, cream, lavender, and pink roses. The two murals of her childhood to adulthood and of her engagement photos were her mother’s added touch and mine was a table specifically dedicated to cosmetics since that’s her field of work. Whatever touches the guests needed to do to their make up before stepping inside of the photo tent would be at their disposal and if they arrived barefaced, the table would serve as tons of fun. There’s a candy bar, an actual bar for alcoholic and non-alcoholic cocktails, and a station filled with many desserts; my favorite being the cake pops shaped like teapots. We weren’t absolutely sure if we’d be able to pull this off flawlessly but I must say, we’ve been proven wrong. Heather’s been squealing and waltzing around since the event started.

“You look amazing Autumn. I love what you’re wearing. Also, long time no see.” Adrienne wrapped her tiny arms around my waist and I politely pulled her in for a hug. It has been quite some time since I’ve seen her. Usually we’d greet one another at the home games and share a small conversation before heading to our seats. Andreas and I also attended she and Chris’ wedding. At this point, she’s more of Heather’s friend than mine. I never mingled with the wives of the players much but now that she’s becoming one of them, she might as well form a few friendships.

“Thank you and yes, it has been a while. How are Chris and the children?”

“All is well. The kids are sprouting non-stop and don’t get me started on those little personalities. Trinity is five, Jackson is two, and Dylan just turned one.”

“Wow. Trinity is officially in school now.”

“Yes. She’s in the kindergarten and is loving it. How’s everything been with you?”

“All is well.” That’s the only response I could muster up while I silently prayed that she didn’t make this extremely awkward by treading into my personal life. The last person I want to speak about is my ex. You don’t have to hear it from me to be familiar with the story. The details of my divorce settlement are already circulating around the internet and the ink hasn’t even dried on the papers yet.

“Good. I’m glad to hear that. You make sure you keep in touch. You have my number. Whenever you’re in town, lets grab a bite to eat or head out to shop a bit.”

“Will do.” I most likely won’t. Actually, I know I won’t.

“And save that dress for me.” I nodded as we shared a small laugh over my choice of attire. The nude and mahogany Zimmerman dress wasn’t exactly the look I had in mind for this bridal shower but it was the perfect shade of nude to blend in decently with the pastels and most of all, it was cut and created in a manner to be cool enough for the Miami weather. I favor the Christian Louboutin pumps and all of their intricate laser detailing far more. If anything, they’re the stand out piece.

“I’ll do that too. It was great seeing you Adrienne.”

As I jealously eyed the open bar, I took yet another sip of the passion fruit flavored tea I’d been holding in my hand while silently wishing it would give me the side effects of loud giggles, overly done touchiness, and carefree vibes as the alcohol is already doing to the guests. Instead, I’m left with dry mouth; a side effect of the Lipitor I’d taken before I left the hotel. They can care less about the puffed pastries, the strawberry and cream tea sandwiches, the prosciutto crostini with fennel slaw, or the smoked salmon and egg canapés. They’ve been drinking and mingling since their arrivals while showering Heather with alcohol influenced marital advice; most of it being about sex. I even overheard Lauren spilling a bit of gossip about she and Issac’s spicy bedroom life, which nearly left me regurgitating the mixture of salmon, mayonnaise, and herbs. I internally cringed and nearly felt like an adolescent as all the women, including Janice and my ever classy mother, chimed in on intimacy and I took a vow a silence while the yard full of married women bestowed their expertise on Heather. Despite the topic, I’m pleased that she’s having this moment to speak with women who’ve gained more than enough experience to be offering sound advice. I didn’t have that and honestly, I didn’t want it. I dived in head first, believing that I’d figure it out along the way and didn’t need the support or guidance from anyone. I was fooled.

“I sent your father a photo I snuck of you today and he said that you remind him so much of myself when I was around your age. I think so too but you’re just so much more stronger and beautiful.” As she sat along side me, she ran her long fingers through my hair and planted a kiss on my cheek. The glow on her face matched the nude pencil dress she chosen to wear for the afternoon; most likely designed by Victoria Beckham. Our matching wasn’t intentional nor was it surprising. We tend to think alike in the fashion department from time to time. I learned all of what I know from she and Shane.

“He always says that.”

“He does. He knew that you’d be somewhat of another version of myself when I found out I was pregnant with you. I didn’t think I’d ever have a daughter but a blessing came when I least expected it. My little girl.” Another kiss followed her response and I withheld the sigh I so badly wanted to let out. I love her dearly, but the affection isn’t helping. If anything, the hugs and kisses from these guests and my tender mother were breaking me down. I’ve been swallowing knots in my throat, quickly patting my eyes dry, and forcing smiles on my face since I walked out of that lawyers office and the difficulty to keep myself together is worsening.

“Hm.”

A few seconds of silence fell between us as she buried herself into her thoughts and suddenly she solemnly leaned her body toward mine.

“Autumn.”

“Mom, please don’t. Please.” I’ve omitted a lot from her, including my coming down her to finalize my divorce. I left her with the truth that I needed to be here for the preparations of this bridal shower but withheld everything else. I got myself into this alone and I didn’t want to hold anyone’s hand as I got myself out of it. She’s helped me more than enough and I love and cherish her for it. There is nothing she could have done for me earlier today nor did she need to be there to face him or my struggle.

“Okay.”

I left her at the table before she could press the issue again and to distract myself from my inner most thoughts, I began the Bridal Pictionary game Janice and I planned out. We split the guests into the two teams, with myself being on Heather’s and Janice being apart of the opposing one and we nominated one person from each team to be the designated artist. From a bowl, we pulled out phrases related to weddings and spent sixty seconds guessing for each turn. Our team took the lead until a tipsy Heather couldn’t figure out what was supposed to be a picture of her jumping the broom. Luckily, we won the Bridal Shower Bingo. The gift opening portion of the afternoon may have been the best part. To watch the bashful expressions on Heather’s face with each piece of sexy and provocative lingerie she held up for us to see was my highlight. Though I enjoyed watching her nearly fall out of her chair at the sight her most desired Tiffany holiday china my mother and I purchased as a joint gift, it was her facial expression when she held up the flimsy pink Agent Provocateur playsuit and the rose gold pasties I’d gotten to go with it. It was by far the worst of all of the sexy attire she’d been gifted and I took pride in that. It was payback for all of the moments she’s made me uncomfortable around some guys or said something extremely outlandish in front of my mother or brothers.

“So, I want to hug and kiss you and kick your ass all at once. All of this was so incredible. I can’t believe I ever slightly doubted you. You always come through for me. A tea party? Yeah, you’re my soulmate for sure.” Heather wrapped her arms around my waist and tightly hugged my frame from the side as she buried her face into the side of mine.

“I forgot to tell people everyone to wear those ugly hats that the white women wear at their tea parties but overall, I think it all came together well. I’m glad you enjoyed it. I can tell. Your breath reeks of vodka and cake.”

“I wish you had some vodka in your system for the bomb I’m about to drop on you.” As I turned to look at her, she grimaced in preparation for whatever annoying or bad news she had to give me. She’s never been great with bearing bad news. In most cases, she’ll avoid it until she cannot do it anymore and this is most likely yet another one of her cases of doing so.

“Mario invited Andreas to the wedding and you know that the RSVP comes with the option of a plus one, so of course he’s bringing Amber.” I can only imagine the whispers and stares when we’re all in the same room of two hundred guests, who are all familiar with our story whether it’s because they personally know both he and I or because they kept up with it via some credible gossip blog or sports site. I’m going to have to become an actress; outshining the likes of Viola Davis in her craft the entire night while also doing my best to keep my grudge holding mother from verbally lashing him until he combusts into a pillar of dust. We’ll avoid one another of course, or maybe he’ll purposefully greet me and pretend like we’re friendly despite our bitter parting. Either way, though I expected this to happen, I didn’t want or need her to confirm it.

“I figured. That’s his coach. Why wouldn’t he invite him?”

“You’ll be okay?”

“Sure.” No, I won’t, but it’s not my wedding. It’s Heather and Mario’s day and I’m willing to compromise just about anything for her wedding to be perfect. I love her enough for that.

“Oh and one more thing.” I finally let out that sigh I withheld at the table as I sat with my mother and she gave me a reassuring squeeze to let me know that this wouldn’t be as bad as the first.

“Please don’t tell me that he’s the best man.”

“No. He’s not. I was going to tell you that I changed your dress. I didn’t like the other as much, so I got you another one. You’re going to love it.”

“Heather.”

“Oh shut up. You hated the bow on the other dress anyway. This new one is sexy. It’s Elie Saab and it falls right in line with the different shades of pink concept that I wanted for my bridesmaids and maid of honor. Wait until you see it. Actually, why don’t you come and spend the night with me at the house tonight so that you can try the dress on. I’ll have Mario pick up Chinese from that place we love so much when we’re drunk, we’ll actually get drunk, and I’m thinking movies. We’ll do our favorites.”

“We’ll see.”

“Hey! It’s my day and if I want to have a slumber party, then you have to agree to it.” I thought about it for a couple of seconds and eventually nodded my head. She’s somewhat correct.

As quickly as she planted a kiss on my cheek is as quickly as she squealed and ran in the direction of her final surprise of the afternoon; Mario. We invited him to come at the very end of the bridal shower to brighten her day even more while also giving commentary of thanks to both he and Heather’s family and friends for coming out to celebrate their up and coming nuptials. As I looked on at the two, the idea was a brilliant one. The love radiating between the two as they stand wrapped up into one another’s arms and sharing kisses like they’re the only ones in the room is good enough proof that all of this is deserved and worth it. Most would say it’s too soon to tell but those two are going to go the long haul. They’re going to be just as in love when they’re old and grey with children and tons of grandchildren keeping them busy. She deserves this, they both do, but I’ve been on her comical, bumpy, and sometimes stubborn journey to find this kind of love and it’s finally proven to be worth it. A part of me feels like I’m losing her but overall I’m excited to see what comes of this. I’m looking forward to becoming a God mother.

Autumn, are you okay?

As I retrieved my clutch bag from the table, I thought about an answer to Dante’s question as it remained in my inbox unanswered and the trembling of my hands answered for me. Early today, I quickly signed those papers and left out of there because I couldn’t bare to watch him walk away from me again but it didn’t make much of a difference like I thought it would. He’d already done that early on. I thought celebrating Heather would temporarily cease all thoughts of him but being surrounding by everything that represents love and unity only served as a continuous kicks in the back and vicious slaps to my face. Not even the medication is helping this.

“Hey. Are you okay?” Lauren grabbed my shoulder and stepped close enough to close the gab in between us. As she used her hand to gently caress me, I stared at my sister-in-law who I’ve refused to connect with in a manner that neither one of us expected. For the first time ever, I appreciated her.

“Yeah.” She could sense the lie but she didn’t push it. Instead, she nodded her head and finally stepped back.

“Tell my mom I’ll see her later. I’m heading out.”

“Back to the hotel?”

“Yeah. I didn’t sleep much last night and I’ve been up since early this morning. I’m tired.”

“Can I check on you later? Or I can just send your mom if you want.” The hesitance in her tone softened my approach with her yet again.

“Sure.”

“Me?” Her eyes widened as she pointed at herself and I gave her a head nod to reassure what I meant.

“Yeah, sure.”

If I’m going to change, I have to change my approach overall and I’ve taken the wrong steps with Lauren. She’s never done anything wrong to me and yet I’ve sort of used her as an outlet for my unresolved issues with Issac and the ones beyond him. I’m not sure how severely I’ve hurt her or if even hurt her at all but I won’t do it again. She’s family and I need to treat her as such.

While sitting in the back of the chauffeured SUV, I began another session of patting and wiping at the corners of my eyes. This time I wasn’t working hard to preserve my make up. I finally let the tears ago. Now, I just want to keep the stains of mascara off of my dress.

No.

I gave him the honesty that I’ve yet to falter on thus far.

I figured that you wouldn’t be. No one is okay after something like that. Are you still at Heather’s bridal shower?

As the rays of the sun began to slowly disappear into the sky, I glanced out at the beauty of the sunset and did my best to bask in it’s serene nature.

No. It’s over with. I’m heading back to the Mandarin.

Somehow, I could picture him sitting back in his posh office, clothed in a Tom Ford three piece suit, while glancing out of his large windows at the unparalleled New York City skyline. The visual eclipsed the sunset. The sense of tranquillity that rushes through me whenever we’re in one another’s presence or connecting through some means of communication is by far the most confusing and yet addicting feeling I’m currently facing. I barely know this man and yet I’ve already fooled myself into believing that it doesn’t matter.

You want to talk about it?

Well of course you don’t want to talk about it. You probably don’t even want to think about it even though you can’t help but to do so. We always wish the hardest parts of our lives could just erase themselves from our mind once we’re in the midst of the aftermath but it never works out that way.

He’s accurate.

Wishes don’t always come true.

I learned that the hard way.

They don’t because wishes are desires without an attempt. You’re going to be okay. Soon enough, you’ll believe that and knowing you and how much of an intelligent, strong, and hard working person you are, you’ll began to work on actually attaining what you wish for. For now, stop going through this alone and lean on someone. You need that.

I paused and reread all of his words of encouragement, including his accuracy towards the very end.

What makes you so sure that I’m going through this alone?

I never mentioned or even alluded to that when speaking with him.

Because you shut me out. I’m sure I’m not the only one.

I glanced up as the SUV came to a halt. We ran into the traffic that I was wishing for earlier. The city failed me.

I apologize. I just had to get my mind right. You understand that, right?

I’m sure he does. He rubs me as the type of person to do the same thing whenever he needs to figure things out.

I do. There’s no need to apologize. I’m not holding that against you. You can’t get through this on your own and you don’t have to. Start opening up about this beyond Dr. Jill. Everyone may not experience the same hardships but we’re human so we do have the capability of understanding.

This man has become my own personal Buddha or motivational book. Like Shane, he always has a logical answer to everything. I don’t know how he does it.

Lately I’ve been around you far more than anyone else. I think my mother’s slightly jealous and she doesn’t even know you.

I know she’s scolded Issac for giving me that job. She won’t say that she hates it but I know she does.

You want to take some time off?

Absolutely not. I can’t bare sitting up in my bedroom anymore. I’ll go insane.

No.

I kicked off my pumps for comfort and tossed both of my legs up on the backseat. Suddenly, the traffic didn’t matter.

Well, my shoulder’s ready then. I play basketball a lot but I suck at working out so it’s kind of soft. You can talk my ear off, cry, slob, sneeze or whatever else. Now snot is gross but you get one pass for that. Just one.

For the time time today, I let out the most genuine and loudest laugh I could muster up. I don’t think I’ve ever slob, sneezed, or blew snot on anyone but the thought of embarrassing myself by doing it to him tickled me.

I don’t slob or drool. I’m not snotty either. No need to worry about that.

As I imagined doing it, I giggled even more. I’d never.

Well then the shoulder’s yours.

I smiled. I know I’ll cry again today, tomorrow, and for some time to come but it feels so good to just freely smile right now.

Thanks for letting me rent your shoulder.

Now I can see him walking around his office as he texts me, effortlessly turning his charm into words as he types away on his iPhone’s screen. His blazer is most likely resting on the back of his chair and his broad shoulders are standing tall.

Rent? No take backs. It’s yours to lean on whenever you need to. So I guess that means you own it.

My head fell against the window as I read that text three times, prompting the driver to glance back at me through the rear view mirror. He’d officially thrown me off course; off track. Whatever you want to call it.

Okay, well thanks for letting me have your shoulder.

I’m not sure if I’ll actually lean on it, but it’s nice to have the offer extended and it be genuine. He’s a great person and he continues to prove that time and time again despite our differences.

You’re welcome. I’m here if you want to talk. I’m here if you don’t want to do that as well. Alright?

I nodded my head as the thoughts of Dante in his office slowly vanished. I returned my attention to the horizon, allowing the last of the faint rays to illuminate my face before the faintly twinkling stars took over the skyline. Peace surrounded me and suddenly my shoulders didn’t feel as heavy. The weight of my burdens temporarily subsided.

Alright.

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