#this is like the sequel to talk i'm losing my mind | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

bratbarzal · 1 month ago

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The Secret of Us (LH43) 3/3

aka the sequel to let it happen

Pairing: Luke Hughes x Fem!Reader

>PART ONE< / >PART TWO<

the pain of, the reign of, the flame of us

WC: 31k (I need therapy atp)

General Warnings: angst!!! did we expect any less for the final instalment of the epic highs and lows of this criminal situationship? (god bless the anon who sent me that line I think of it daily) cursing probably, inaccurate timeline of events regarding hockey and all but it's fiction just play along lmao, mentions of jack's injury, meddling friends, miscommunication final boss, hypocrisy final boss, jealousy and avoidance final boss and an ending 🙂

A/N: guys I wish I could put into words just how much joy writing this fic has given me, I have so much love and gratitude for the way you all responded to it. writing fic can sometimes be such a lonely and stressful experience in a weird way, especially something as long as this, and you guys turned it into this giant team effort and I felt like you were pushing me along the whole way!! this is such a corny a/n but I really love you all so much - thank you for being so kind to me, thank you for discussing every single element of this fic with me, thank you for loving (or hating lmao) the characters, and making them real enough in my head that they just flew onto the page. thank you to everyone who recommended this fic to anybody else, or who loved it so much that they went through everything else I've written and liked that too!! THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU!!! I hope this final part is loved as much as the rest, and I can't wait to talk to you guys about it!! my ask is always open for lih/tsou discourse!! these two will live with me for the rest of time lmao but I do now feel the need to run and hide because I'm terrified to post this actually so hope you like it lol

You can’t remember the last time you ever felt so lost in your life.

You’ve always been someone that finds your way - lands on your feet, figures things out - because you’ve had no other choice, before. Forced to be independent before you ever needed to be, you can usually work your way out of sticky situations with minimal scarring.

But Luke Hughes has somehow managed to crush you beyond recognition.

You thought things were finally going well, you were taking this monumental leap into something more, kissing him like you’ve been denying yourself for too long, and then all of a sudden you’re struggling to get your words out, letting him assume the worst of you and running with it, because what other option do you have now, knowing that he doesn’t want you back?

You’re a little caught of guard at the initial rejection, but the words that follow make you speechless, entirely, gaping open-mouthed like some dumb-struck idiot as he tells you that he’s moving on, and you only want him because you don’t want to lose him.

And you’re so consumed by this wave of renunciation that you can’t even fight him on it.

And then he’s gone.

The silence that follows Luke’s departure from the porch almost makes your ears pop - pressure building and building to the point of eruption inside your head, and you’re so caught up in your mind that you’re barely functioning otherwise.

It’s below freezing out, a cold wind whipping at your cheeks, and every breath you take feels rough and textured like you’re rubbing coarse sandpaper at your chest cavity - you really shouldn’t be out here, exposed to such harsh conditions, but what does that matter when you would be hurting anyway, no matter where you are.

You don’t even know how you got here.

One second you were running through the house with the best news of your life and only one person in mind to share it with, and the next you were out in the cold - key moments from the night playing in your head like some horror movie sequence.

Ellie’s warning of, he’s gonna crush you when he starts seeing someone and you get left behind.

The way she’s been keeping it to herself that he already is seeing someone, or speaking to her, at least, whatever that entails - because, the two of you speak. You speak every day.

Seeing Victoria with her hands on Luke, sinking her claws into him while he gave her one of those cute, toothy grins - the kind that made his eyes gleam and crinkle in the corners.

And then, I don’t want to be with anybody but you tonight, I promise.

How can anybody possibly hear that and not want to kiss him?

Sure, it was some weird, territorial spur of jealousy that consumed you and forced you to take that final leap, but it’s not like you haven’t thought about doing it before. Sat on your bed watching Wall-E on your birthday, the plush he had bought you tucked into the crook of your elbow and your hand brushing repeatedly against his in the bowl of popcorn. Or when he’d snuck out of your house the morning after, only just managing to evade being caught by your sorority regime and holding you against him with a kiss to the side of your head as the two of you said your goodbyes on the porch.

Does it really matter what the final catalyst was if the finished result was what you’ve both been wanting this entire time? Plus, it’s not like he hasn’t encouraged those feelings before - Mr Tell me that the thought of me even talking to another girl makes your skin crawl.

But that’s the problem. You’re probably too used to acting impulsively with Luke - doing first, thinking later - and he’s starting to realise it, too, growing tired of your stretched out resistance and finally throwing in the towel.

We both have to find a way to move on.

Maybe it’s not what you’ve both wanted the entire time.

Maybe Luke hasn’t wanted it for a while - has wanted to move on and find someone new. See someone else - speak to her, or whatever.

God, you feel pathetic.

A feeling that worsens when Ethan finds you, teary eyed and shaking - too consumed by your own humiliation to feel just how cold it is outside until he shrugs a jacket over you, holds it closed in front of your torso and peers down at you with nothing but concern in his chocolate eyes.

His mouth moves, but all you hear is muffled noise alongside the sound of your racing heartbeat, and you try to read his lips, but it’s hard to see through the blur of tears. His hands start rubbing at your arms, and the friction brings everything back into focus, a little. The cold night air, the cologne rubbed into the collar of the jacket, the voice of the caring boy in front of you.

“You’re shaking like a leaf,” he mutters, “Let’s get you home.”

You nod wordlessly as you accept his help, a guiding arm around you that ushers you off the porch, helps you down the steps and pushes you gently to the edge of the yard until you’re walking side by side down the street. You sniffle, not even realising that you’re crying until you try to remedy the dryness in the corner of your lips and taste the salty tears that have fallen there, and you end up crying the whole walk, trying not to be obvious about it - arms wrapped around yourself and head dipped to watch your feet as they move along the sidewalk.

Ethan doesn’t try to talk it out of you, for once, which you’re grateful for, and he walks you all the way up to the front door, turning away without any prompt so you can fetch the key you hid under one of the plants before you left

“Thanks,” you mutter, once you’ve retrieved it, standing back up and watching as he spins back around. “For walking me back, sorry that I got upset and weird.”

“It’s alright,” he shrugs, hands buried in the pockets of his jeans to maintain some semblance of blood flow, the below freezing temperatures making it almost painful to breathe. “Lot of tears for a guy you’re not into, though.”

“Yeah,” you sigh, because what’s the use in denying it anymore. It hasn’t done you any favours this far. You fumble your key into the lock and shoulder the door open, leading him into the house with a silent invitation, thankful that he follows without any hesitation and seals the heat back in behind him. “Can I ask you something?”

“As long as it’s quick, I got a beer pong championship I need to retain, I’m on for a three-peat, kids in this town will be talking about it for years.”

“Well I wouldn’t want to hold you back from greatness,” you scoff, offering a lighthearted chuckle as you shrug off the jacket he had slung over your shoulders before. Luke’s jacket, you’re pretty sure, that in any other circumstances, you’d keep, but the smell of him is probably going to suffocate you if you inhale it any longer. You hold it out to Ethan, quirking a brow when he frowns down at the garment. “You’re off the hook, it was stupid anyway.”

“No, come on,” he prompts, “I was kidding.”

He blinks slowly at you, dark eyes warm and encouraging as he steps a little further into the foyer, leaning against one of the pillars by the door. He’s settled in, and he’s giving the kind of energy that it’s hard not to reciprocate - open and receptive to whatever it is that you want to talk about.

“Do you guys talk about, like, girls and stuff?” You ask, brows creasing almost immediately at how dumb it sounds to even bring it up. God, you’re starting to hate what he’s turning you into. “I mean, like, if he was into somebody, would he tell you?”

His eyes go darker, somehow, amusement flashing through them as his lips quirk, and he can try all he wants, but it’s so obvious he’s biting back a smile. “He doesn’t have the track record for it since he moved away, no, but Luke’s a pretty private guy. Even when he was here, he was never really big on talking about that kind of stuff.”

“Oh.” You sigh, because great, you’ve just made an idiot out of yourself for no good reason - to Ethan, of all people, who’s been trying to eke information out of you all year.

“Awful poker face, though,” he adds, “Like anybody could see from a mile off that he is into somebody.”

That doesn’t make you feel any better. If he isn’t talking to the boys about any girl he potentially is interested in, why would he tell you? Maybe you had been wrong, when Ellie brought up him speaking to somebody back in Jersey, maybe he wouldn’t have told you. Maybe he’s a pretty private guy, like Ethan said, and that privacy extends to you in the same way it does to the guys - where Luke keeps his cards close to his chest, just like he had back in summer, when the two of you were a thing.

“Ellie told me that he was,” you lament, leaning on the pillar closest to Ethan’s, crossing your arms over your chest, “I didn’t believe her, I thought he’d tell me, but now I don’t know.”

“Is that what you’re upset about?” Ethan’s eyes narrow, “That he didn’t tell you?”

“I guess maybe he did,” You sigh, replaying his words over and over in your head. We both have to find a way to move on. I don’t know how long I’m supposed to wait for you to figure it out. It hadn’t been explicit, but the sentiment was there - like he was laying the foundations of something he’d be more ready to build onto at a later date.

Maybe this thing with Yasmin is early days, still. Maybe you put him so far off the idea of letting anyone else in on what could be a good thing - through fear of it all coming crumbling down, just like his relationship with you had done - that he won’t tell anybody until he knows for sure.

“I feel like an idiot.”

The idea of him letting go of his feelings just as you started to come to terms with your own hurts, but you can hardly be mad at him. He had been right - you’d told him in no uncertain terms that you weren’t willing to take things further again, and even though that was almost 6 months ago, now, it doesn’t change the fact that you’ve withheld your feelings, since. You don’t even remember what you were trying to protect yourself from, because it can’t have been as bad as this.

“Maybe you should talk to him before he leaves again, tomorrow,” Ethan suggests, “I can try talk some sense into him if you want?”

“You’re good,” you decline, figuring you’ve done enough invading his privacy for the time being. You need to let him figure things out on his own, you think, instead of acting out of impulse and making everything explode in your face. “I’ll call him in the morning, thanks though.”

Ethan straightens up as he starts to get ready to leave, but just before you can say goodbye, he turns at the door. “He really cares about you, you know.” He tells you, “In case he didn’t tell you that, either. He can be an idiot, but he cares.”

“I know,” you breathe, smiling softly to try and reassure him - because if you do know one thing about Luke in this whole fiasco, it’s that he cares. Whether it’s too much, or not enough, you’re not sure, but it’s there, nonetheless.

You thank him again, because you really are grateful that he walked you back, and that he was so willing to lend an ear to your stupid questions without making you feel entirely stupid for them, and grins back, boyish and sweet, before he leaves.

The house is unsettlingly quiet - the rest of the girls either in bed or at the party - and you just want to go to bed, yourself to shut out the unbearable silence, but your room doesn’t provide the kind of escape you thought it might.

One of Luke’s sweatshirts is slung over the back of your desk chair, and even without it being there, you think you’d see him in every corner. He’s in your reflection in the bathroom, brushing his teeth by your side and nudging you out the way to spit the residue into the sink. He’s poking and prodding at your skincare on your vanity, reading the bottles and asking what they do. He’s sat at your desk, looking at your little calendar and telling you that you really need to take a break for yourself when he realises just how many spaces are filled in. And he’s in your bed, his scent in the sheets you’re yet to wash since he slept in here on your birthday - and even that isn’t giving you reprieve like it had the night before.

You can’t get to sleep at all.

And it’s probably morbid curiosity that will be the end of you, because as you lay in your bed, tossing and turning and trying to drown out your thoughts so that you can finally drift off - there’s some stupid, sabotaging part of you that thinks it’s a good idea to open up instagram. And then it seems reasonable to check Luke’s profile, knowing that he hardly ever posts, but heading straight to the accounts that he’s following.

You type her name before you can convince yourself how bad the idea is, watching as the results narrow down to just one with only a few letters, and you click straight through to the profile that remains.

It’s unassuming, initially. Her name is Yasmin Keating. Her bio suggests she’s a student, her location says North Carolina, and most of her feed is dedicated to her time spent decked in blue and white playing basketball at UNC. And she’s gorgeous. She’s athletic, and would probably understand all of his weird sports references more than you do, would probably understand his lifestyle, and the stress he’s under. She’s sociable, probably wouldn’t hide him away and make him feel like some dirty secret.

And one of her latest posts is tagged in New York, from a couple weeks ago. A carousel of photos, each as pretty as the last, and you hold your breath as you swipe through them for any sort of sighting of the curly brown hair you know too well.

The sighting doesn’t come, but as you scroll down a little, you find something just as bad.

Liked by lhughes_06.

If you were hesitant to accept Ellie’s word for it, confused by Luke’s own reluctance to let you in, and Ethan’s shifty explanation of his best friend’s privacy, then this is the confirmation you need to finally accept the truth.

Luke is moving on.

And maybe you need to let him.

When Luke wakes up the morning after, his head is pounding. There’s a relentless thud between his ears, and he swears his brain feels loose, like it’s rattling around his skull at even the slightest shake of his head.

He doesn’t think it’s a hangover - he’d had a few drinks, but not that many, and had ended up coming home a lot earlier than anticipated, his party spirit dampening as soon as you left, anyway. He’d fallen asleep with his phone in hand, staring at your message thread and trying to figure out if texting you would be a good idea, so maybe it’s staring at a screen for almost an hour that gave him such a headache, he thinks.

But all his usual remedies aren’t working.

He drinks a full bottle of water straight from the refrigerator, chugging the contents down until the plastic is squeezed to within an inch of its life in his hand, and manages to swallow down some Tylenol with it. He showers, letting the water spray directly onto his neck and shoulders to try and relieve the tension there, and spends a little longer than usual to try and wash the pain away. He even makes himself a decent breakfast to try line his stomach, but by the time 10am rolls around, he still feels like crap.

He is supposed to fly back to Jersey in the late afternoon, and as the hours tick on, there’s a panic that stirs within him - a feeling like he’s forgotten something, already, even though he doesn’t have to leave for a while. His bags were packed yesterday - he had figured he’d get ahead so that he isn’t stressing - and he doesn’t have to worry about returning a rental car, because he’s been driving his dad’s while they’re out of town and is supposed to leave it at the airport, anyway. He’s checked all the windows around the house, and the settings on the heater - there are no dishes in the sink, no clothes left in the washer or dryer, and it’s about as tidy as it was when he arrived last week.

And it’s only when he checks his phone for what is probably the 20th time that he even realises he keeps doing it - realises what he thinks he’s missing.

You.

He probably would have been with you, if things didn’t blow up last night.

He’d have been at your house, or you’d have been at his, and you’d have kept him busy all the way up until the point he needs to leave. He’d have slept by your side, like he’s pathetically getting so used to doing, now, and would have woken up to your pretty eyes slowly blinking back at him. And he figures that’s why he felt off as soon as he opened his own, with the sun peering into his bedroom through the thin curtains, and the slight chill that wracked through his body without yours to keep him warm.

You haven’t even text him - the last message on his phone being from Ethan, last night, after he’d dropped you off, one Luke had seen as he sat in the back of his Uber home, all desire to be around anybody swiftly drained as soon as you were gone.

His hands start to shake the longer he thinks about it, and the more he remembers - pushing you away and watching you leave - and he can’t even rationalise it all, anymore.

Summer might feel like a lifetime ago, but if that’s the case, then it’s a lifetime of Luke still wanting you. It’s months of trying to fan the flames of your affections, trying to keep the spark alive, despite all the ways you had told him it was long blown out.

He knows. He’s always known that there was something left.

But he’s tired of being the only one who believes in it, anymore.

Jack doesn’t support him, his parents are none the wiser, his teammates barely have time for their own relationship dramas, let alone his, and the only person who had ever encouraged him to pursue more with you lives on the other side of the continent.

But right now, the last remedy that comes to mind is a call with his oldest brother - one last ditch attempt to clear his mind before he flies back to Jersey and throws himself back into hockey for the last few months.

He’s found himself calling Quinn much more while he’s been home alone for the past 10 days, with Jack busy with the tournament, and his parents busy watching them - he thinks there’s a common ground there, with Quinn, where he’s sort of detached to the point of novelty when it comes to Luke’s life.

He offers a fresh perspective, gives unbiased advice - helps him make pancakes over FaceTime for the girl in his bed who isn’t his girlfriend, and doesn’t make snarky comments or push him to talk about it.

And so he’s pressing on his contact before he can think better of it - waiting until Quinn’s face pops up on his screen, seemingly propped up while he makes himself a breakfast smoothie all the way over in Vancouver.

“Lukey, what’s up?”

“Hey man, you got a minute?”

“Sure, let me just back away from the blender before I try to multitask and blitz my kitchen.”

He watches with a grateful smile as Quinn makes his way through his apartment, walking into the living room himself and throwing himself down onto the seat in the bay window.

“Surprised you found the time to call me, thought you’d be spending your morning at a certain sorority or something.” His older brother laughs as he lowers himself down onto the couch in his apartment, the view behind him that of a misty Vancouver, the sun barely seeping through the clouds.

It makes him feel a little closer, to see it - peering through the glass at the front of their parent’s house, himself, and looking up at familiar grey skies.

“That’s kind of what I wanted to talk to you about.” Luke frowns, hating the way his gut twists guiltily at the vague memory of last night - of your elation turning into evasion, and the way he still thinks he can taste you if he swipes his tongue across his bottom lip. “I don’t think she wants to see me right now.”

“What did you do?”

“Why do you assume I’m the problem?”

“Are you not?”

“I don’t even know.” He groans, looking back on the evening with a lot more clarity than his beer-goggles had allowed him, before. “I sort of blew up at her last night about something, I had a couple drinks, and I think I was pretty harsh. She left the party early and we’d usually text by now, but I think she’s probably avoiding me.”

“You’re gonna have to quit being so vague if you want me to help you out, man.”

The look Quinn is giving is like the virtual version of a brotherly swat, a blank but bold stare at the screen that’s his own silent way of telling his little brother to just spit it out, already.

And Luke takes little convincing - despite all the months he’s held back from doing so. This is technically a boiling point, and keeping this whole thing between the two of you such a secret has done absolutely nothing to serve him, so far. He could really use the help, he thinks.

“We’re supposed to be friends.” Luke sighs, “Back in summer, we had a thing, like we were sort of, almost together,” he cringes as he says it, unable to think of a better way to lay it out. Sure, he’d spoken to Quinn a little about you, back then - had admitted to having a crush, at least, but he hadn’t shared much past that. And it’s different with his older brother, he thinks, on the other side of the continent, oblivious somewhat to Luke’s day to day, and just how much it probably involved you by now. He needs to explain it for it all to make any kind of sense. “Like we were hanging out together all the time, and sleeping together, and it sounds like a mess but it was perfect when it was just us.”

“Are you waiting for me to be shocked or something?” Quinn queries after a moment’s pause, quirking a brow with narrowed eyes pointed straight at the camera. “Because we all knew you were sort of, almost together, you couldn’t have been any more obvious about it if you tried. Was it supposed to be a secret?”

“I don’t even know anymore,” Luke huffs out an elongated breath, the whole thing feeling like a waste of time, right about now. Keeping you hidden, abiding by your rules of saying nothing about whatever was going on between the two of you. What was the point in kissing you behind closed doors and rushing you back to your bedroom in the mornings if everybody knew, anyway? What could the two of you be, now, if you hadn’t held yourselves back? “I really fell for her, though. Hard. Like the worst hit I’ve ever taken in my life. And I fucked it all up by being stupid, and I said some pretty awful stuff about her that she overheard,” he winces, hating even looking back on that stupid conversation with Cole, not wanting to slip and indulge too much to his oldest brother about it through fear of valid judgement. “And it took her a while to let me back in, and she said that we’d only ever be friends, and obviously I want to be more, obviously I’m still in love with her, but she made it pretty clear we’d never cross that line again, and I can’t spend the rest of my life standing at the wrong end of a bridge I can’t cross, do you know what I mean?”

“No,” Quinn deadpans, “I’ve never heard anything so dumb in my life.”

“She kissed me, last night, Quinn,”

“Sounds horrific.”

“And I pushed her away,”

“Sounds idiotic.”

“You don’t get it,” Luke’s jaw tenses, glaring at his brother through the screen. “She only kissed me ‘cause she didn’t want me to kiss somebody else. She saw me with this girl she hates and I found her after, she was pretty upset.”

“Lukey boy,” Quinn chuckles, giving an amused, crooked smile on the other end of the call, “You’re so full of shit, the hot girl that you like kissed you, it’s hardly the end of the world.”

“Don’t be a dick, Q,” Luke scowls, trying to push past the flare of agitation that lights within him at his brother referring to you as the hot girl. Even he can see how hypocritical it is, but it’s instinct - he can’t exactly fight it.

“No, come on,” his older brother starts, straightening up where he’s seemingly reclining on the couch, a surefire sign that he’s about to give some sort of lecture. “You spend your whole summer obsessed with her, and God-knows how long before that, and you fuck up so monumentally that the girl doesn’t talk to you for like 6 weeks, and then by some miracle she lets you back in and you fuck it up again.”

“Jack said I should move on,” Luke huffs in response, some attempt at trying to rationalise how stupid he had been to push her away last night.

“Jack’s an idiot.”

“He said that she’s probably moving on, and he made out that it was all sort of one-sided, and you know how much him and Ellie talk, I figured it had to have come from somewhere-,”

“It came from him being an idiot,” He repeats, “And it must be contagious, because why would you not just talk to her instead of letting it all blow up like that?”

“I tried,” Luke whines, “We went to a game together last week, I asked her about dating and stuff,”

“And?”

Luke frowns as he tries to remember the crux of the conversation - you’d joked that you wouldn’t go to a hockey game on a date, that you hadn’t been going to games on dates, and it never really expanded further than that, his attempt too specific to the situation and not the wider issue.

“I guess she said she wasn’t, but I probably wasn’t asking the right question.” He admits, blinking slowly as he tries to come up with any other reason why he had acted so irrationally the night before.

“So let me get this straight,” Quinn’s voice brings him back a little, shoulders stiffening in preparation of the verbal lashing he’s no-doubt about to receive. “You two spend a whole week together, like every waking second in her company when she’s not in class or with her friends, she spends valentines and her birthday with you, she tells you that she isn’t dating anybody else, she gets so upset about seeing you with somebody else that you find her almost in tears, and you somehow ignore all of the evidence that she is, in fact, into you, only to push her away because Jack implied she might have moved on?”

Well that sounds fucking stupid, Luke thinks.

“But she-,”

“She what?” Quinn asks, raising an expectant brow. “She snuck you into her house all week, despite the fact we both know how strict those girls can be about having guys over? She spent every day doing things that were important to you, trying to learn about the things you like, hanging around your friends, coming to you when she was upset?”

“You don’t get it,” Luke huffs, regretting all the information he’d been sharing with his brother throughout the last week right about now - not realising the little parts would be pieced together and used against him like this. “She told me she only wanted to be friends, she told me multiple times, and she only ever wants more when she is upset, like I’m just there to comfort her, or something.”

It had been the same back in summer, initially - you only ever sought him out when you were agitated or emotional over something you wouldn’t talk to him about. You followed him up to his bathroom after seeing him with Victoria, you brought him upstairs to his room in the middle of a party after an argument with Jack - and he had been fine with it, at the time - encouraged it, even, trying to flare up your jealousy to prompt you to give in to him, taking whatever scraps of your affections you were willing to give - but this feels different.

He can’t keep carrying on like this.

“Don’t you want to comfort her?”

“Of course I fucking want to comfort her,” he scoffs, because it isn’t about that. He loves you, he’ll always want to comfort you if you’re hurting or upset, but he can’t keep himself on stand by to be available to your methods of avoiding your problems only for you to keep pushing him away, otherwise. “But, I don’t know, there has to be a line, you know?” He sighs, “I have to put a line there before I fall any further and she pulls the rug from under me when she does start dating. Like she just saw me speaking to some girl she doesn’t like, and then she said she doesn’t want to see me with anyone else, but she still wants to be friends! I told her that we both need to move on, I don’t even know why, I don’t even think I want her to.”

“You need to talk to her, man,” Quinn frowns, “You need to tell her that.”

“That’s what last night was-,”

“No, last night was impulse,” he sighs back, “It was you after a few drinks, and both of your emotions at a high, and you blew up at her out of nowhere. Sure, she probably shouldn’t have kissed you, but you’ve got to give her a chance for her to think about what she wants instead of just telling her she needs to move on because she didn’t give you the right answer in the moment, Luke.”

You weren’t there, Luke wants to say, you don’t understand.

But maybe that’s the point. Maybe an outsider’s perspective - someone like Quinn, who is fair and reasonable, who doesn’t let his loyalty to or protectiveness over his little brother cloud his judgement, who always understood the depths of his relationship with you before Luke could ever admit it to anybody - sees more than Luke could, himself.

“Go over, before you head to the airport,” Quinn says, his tone suggestive, but classically authoritative, “You don’t wanna leave it like that, trust me.”

“Yeah,” Luke breathes, “Thanks, man, sorry for dumping all of this on you.”

“It’s fine,” Quinn smiles back, crooked and familiar, bringing the kind of comfort Luke finds himself craving, sometimes, when his other brother is being a dick. “I’d rather you come to me than Jack, he just ends up making a bigger mess that I have to clean.”

Luke gives some attempt at a laugh that doesn’t quite seem right with how heavy everything else feels, and lets his brother carry on with his own morning routine with no more whining from him.

He gets himself ready, loads his bag into the trunk, and makes sure everything is locked up and secure before setting off across town on a route he now knows like the back of his hand. He sits in the car, parked up across the street from your house, for 10 minutes - trying to think of how he can possibly clear everything up before he leaves - when he sees something that makes his breath catch.

You come out of the house, bundled in what looks like a bunch of layers and his sweatshirt on top, your backpack slung over your shoulder, and you’re smiling as you turn back to speak to someone following you out of the house. Even from as far away as Luke is, the sight of your smile calms something within him, but that calm quickly turns frigid as he takes notice of who is coming through the door behind you.

Ethan is wearing the same clothes as last night, his hair is shaggy and unkempt, and Luke recognises the kind of wry grin he’s flashing your way from back when the two of them lived together when he was in college. It’s the kind of smile that follows a phrase Luke can still hear in the back of his mind, as if it were last uttered to him yesterday, and not almost 2 years ago. I don’t kiss and tell.

And that swirl of panic comes back tenfold - fingers clenching against the wheel as he starts the car back up and drives off as quick as he can, not wanting to watch anymore of whatever scene that was between the two of you unfold.

If he hadn’t regretted last night before, he sure does, now - because he understands you more than ever - 8 familiar words ringing around his skull like a siren sound.

I don’t want to watch you move on, you had told him, pupils blown and lips swollen as you spoke, the surface of them still slick and pink from his bruising kiss. And being the idiot he is, he had encouraged you to do just that - had thought it would be what’s best for you both, what’s healthy and right.

But he doesn’t want to watch you move on, either.

And now it seems like he has no choice.

Trying to distract yourself from the fact that Luke is actively avoiding you is harder than you ever thought it would be.

You lived so much of your life before him that it really shouldn’t take a lot of effort to try and reignite some form of your old routine, but as the days pass by - and the conversation lulls, the texts dwindle into short responses, and the FaceTimes cease entirely - you think you might have forgotten what your world was ever like without him.

You throw yourself back into your school work for a couple weeks, but it doesn’t really work the same as it used to, and you find yourself thinking about your future too much - about your grades, about NYU, about all the plans that involved him and now don’t seem as certain as they once did. You get back into the groove with your sorority responsibilities, spend a lot more time with your sisters, helping to plan the activities and events like you did a lot more last year, but you find yourself checking Luke’s game schedule more often than you should, trying to make sure nothing clashes even though he probably doesn’t care by now and he no doubt has Yasmin to support him instead of you.

And then you try to do things for yourself. You get back into your routine at the gym, you pick up swimming again and even volunteer on your one day off a week to teach a few lessons at the rec centre, thankful for those few hours you spend with a bunch of kids who just want to splash around and dive for the random items you throw into the deep end for them.

You manage to find some semblance of balance, but he’s always in the back of your mind, and before you know it, weeks have passed - whatever spark you had left with Luke fading as they do - and the last text you have from him is from 5 days ago. You’d tried to lure him into a movie night, asking about his availability, and he’d said he would let you know. He never did. And that is what led you to tonight - going out to the movies instead of sitting on your bed and thinking Luke should be beside you, and you figured it was the safer option, going somewhere that you never went with him.

You even ran into Ethan while you were out - and where the initial sight of him might have previously made you a little nauseous just from the connection to Luke, the last few weeks have alleviated that, somewhat.

After Ethan had dropped you home that night of the party, you’d left your bedroom to find him hiding behind a corner at the top of the stairs while the rest of your sisters lingered around at the bottom. He had been wearing the same clothes from the night before, and was close enough to your friend Megan’s room to understand that he had spent the night there. And you know Megan well enough to know she probably kicked him out and left him to his own devices, too exhausted to try and sneak him out of the house, herself.

So you did the honours - you figure you’d gotten good at it with the amount of times you had snuck Luke in and out the week prior - and helped him navigate his way out without getting caught, leaving the house with him on your way to class. He’d offered to drive you as repayment, and you’d gladly accepted, and the two of you ended up speaking more often - finding comfort in the way you didn’t really have to hide from him, anymore. He’d seen a vulnerable part of you that you no longer had to cover up, and it had been nice to have someone else that you didn’t really have to pretend around.

The local IMAX was playing The Martian, one of your favourites - so what if it was something you watched with Luke all the way back in summer? And you’d just planned on watching the movie and going home, but bumping into Ethan had stretched out your plans a little.

You’d both been hungry after the movie, despite the copious amounts of popcorn you ate and the giant soda you drank, and he suggested grabbing burgers. And then the burger place he drove out to was right beside an arcade, and he’d wandered in there first, really - you just followed - but you don’t regret it.

You ended up having a lot of fun - the weightless kind, where Luke sort of slipped from the back of your mind. And it wasn’t even just Luke that slipped - it was the stress of school, of your finals coming up, of finding out your dad was going to be on vacation again when you were due to graduate, and you’d gotten into a fight with your mom about NYU and turning down the job you had lined up back in Chicago. It was all the things that you’d been bottling up now that you didn’t really have Luke to talk to, and forgetting them for even just one night was nice.

Ethan had dropped you home after the arcade, and left you at the side of the street in front of the sorority house with the stuffed animal you had won just for Ellie, because she’d seen the little duck in the back of the picture you sent to her of your whereabouts.

And you’re just about to knock on her door when it swings open - Ellie’s eyes red and her cheeks puffy with fresh tears, alarm and panic in her features that immediately elicited the same in your own.

“What’s wrong?” You ask, heart seeming to thud to a dramatic stop as you watch her lips tremble and she ushers you into her bedroom.

“It’s Jack,” Ellie sniffles, “He got hurt, it’s pretty bad.”

“Oh, El,” you reach out to take her into your embrace, rubbing at her back as sobs wrack straight through her spine. “What happened?”

“He took a hit and went straight into the boards, I can’t bring myself to watch the replay, they’re saying on twitter that he passed out, and I can’t get a hold of anybody. Could you watch it for me? Could you tell me if he looks alright?” You hadn’t even realised there was a game on tonight - too consumed in your plans and your determination to have a night off from thinking about Luke to even check.

“Oh, I don’t-,” You break away, trying to think of how best to get out of it. You’re really not the best with injuries, and if it’s bad enough for her to be this upset, you have a feeling it’s going to make you feel sick. “Maybe I should ask Ethan to come over and watch it for you, I-,”

“Please?” She pleads, eyes round and welling with tears, a surefire way to get you to agree. “I just need someone to be honest with me.”

“Yeah,” You resign, holding out your hand for Ellie to give you her phone, seeing the video is already loaded once she’s unlocked it. “Yeah, alright.”

Ellie turns away with her hands covering her ears as you press play, and you watch as Jack skates toward the net, readying himself for the puck to be played towards him, not expecting the way he’s being approached from behind all of a sudden, and can’t bring himself to a stop before he’s colliding straight into the boards, the opposition player bumping straight into the back of him.

You try not to wince at the impact, at the way Jack’s body goes limp and he has to be turned over by the other player. You try to focus on the positives before you assemble your thoughts - he gets up, he can skate on his own, he isn’t bleeding anywhere - but it’s hard when you know him.

It’s hard when, as much as you and Jack don’t really get along, you’re similar in more ways than you’d like to admit, and you know that seeing him express even the slightest bit of pain must mean he’s in absolute agony.

She said that she wants honesty, but you know Ellie - she doesn’t want to worry, you don’t want her to worry, not until she knows all the facts.

“He’s up, he’s skating off,” you tell her, glancing up and offering what you hope is a comforting smile, a slight twist of your lips that does little, probably, to hide your own concern. “I don’t think it’s the same shoulder he hurt last year.” You remember how much she stressed about that at the time - about his surgery, and the aftermath, and you’d been living with him back at the beginning of summer, enough to know which side he previously had in a sling, or which side he avoided doing much activity with in the earlier weeks. “It doesn’t look great, but at least he can take himself off the ice, right?”

Even from clips of the incident, you can tell how much it worries the people around him - players on the ice, fans in the stands, and you wonder for a second about Luke, about how it must feel to watch from the bench and have to carry on without knowing what’s happening.

And now you’re worried about him.

You hand Ellie’s phone back over, watching as she chews nervously at the inside of her cheek, spinning the device in her hand and fidgeting erratically.

“I’ll wait with you until we hear something,” you promise, placing a hand gently on her lap to try and stop her knee from bouncing. You hand the stuffed animal you’re still holding out to her, and she takes it with a limp smile that comes nowhere close to reaching her eyes. “I’ll get you a drink, do you want something warm to calm you down? I can make you a sleepy tea, if you want?”

Ellie nods, eyes glistening as she maintains that weak effort of a smile, and you smile back, an attempt at reassurance before you hand her phone back and head downstairs to the kitchen. You’re thankful it’s empty when you finally walk in, able to wait around while the water boils and try to calm yourself down.

You know it’s selfish as soon as you start to think it - your best friend in pieces upstairs about her boyfriend being hurt - but all that flashes through your mind is Luke. That could have been Luke. How would you feel if Luke was hurt? How do you feel that he’s potentially, probably hurting now, even thought it isn’t him? How are you supposed to help him through this from so far away, with everything going on, afraid to even text him first, anymore? Would he even want you to?

Your cellphone burns a hole in your back pocket, the urge to reach out is practically making your fingers itch, and you cast a glance to the clock that flashes on the little screen on the range. He’s probably back in his hotel, by now. Or he’s with Jack and the medical team.

You could call him. Just so you’ve at least tried. Just so he knows you’re there if he needs you, and that the last few weeks of minimal contact mean nothing if there’s any potential of something happening to him.

Sitting around and dwelling on the fact that he hasn’t tried to call you is pathetic, you think. It’s self-centred and petty, and you need to be better than that. He deserves better than that.

So, as Ellie’s tea is brewing, you reach into your pocket, swipe at your phone with muscle memory and bring it up to your ear, waiting for the beep of his voicemail so that you can leave some sort of message, even if he probably won’t listen.

“Hey,” his voice cuts at your spiralling thoughts, low and tired, more like a sigh than anything else, and your body straightens against the counter as you rush to respond.

“Hi,” you say, a weird flutter in your chest at the mere sound of his voice after so long. “I didn’t think you’d pick up.”

He doesn’t reply other than a little huff, and you’re sort of thankful for it - if he doesn’t reply, he can’t say something you don’t want to hear, like how he doesn’t want to hear from you.

“I just got back to the house and Ellie told me about Jack, I wanted to check on you.”

“Pretty late to be just getting back,” he murmurs, and you hear a little shuffling, like he’s moving around, before you hear the soft clasp of a door in the background. “You overstay your welcome at the library again?”

“No,” you breathe out a little laugh, leaning against the counter as you watch steam rise from the mug of tea sat on top. “I finally followed your advice, actually,” you tell him in the hopes that hearing that might perk him up just a little. “Ditched the books for a day, did a whole lot of not studying.”

For as long as you’ve been stressing about school, Luke has been trying to guide you towards some sort of balance - giving yourself a little grace to actually have a breather - and maybe your main stressor hadn’t been studying, this time, but he doesn’t need to hear that, right now.

“Oh, really?” You can hear his smile through the phone, small but sure, and the sound of it eases a little of the anxiety swelling in the pits of your stomach. “You get up to anything cool?”

“Yeah, actually,” you stir at Ellie’s tea absentmindedly, hoping you’re offering some sort of distraction. “They were playing The Martian at the IMAX, I got all up close and personal with Matt Damon and his shitty potatoes.”

“Sounds like you had fun,” he snorts, and you’d like to think you can hear the soft semblance of a smile, even if his heart isn’t entirely in it.

“It was great, we went to go get burgers and play pinball after, which is why I’m so late home.” You sigh, only just starting to feel the exhaustion from it, hoping this sleepy tea does its wonders on Ellie so that you can both go to bed pretty quick. “I feel like I haven’t done anything fun like that all year.”

“Who’d you go with?”

“Just Ethan,” you scoop the teabag from the water and dispose of it, frowning as you realised you’ve somehow made this whole call about yourself, guilt seeping into your subconscious. “But enough about me, how’s everything with you? How’s Jack? Ellie said she hasn’t been able to reach him, which is why I thought you wouldn’t pick up.”

“Uh, they think they’re gonna send him back to Jersey,” Luke laments, “He’s gonna miss the game in Dallas, he’s convinced his season is over, so he’s pretty down right now. I think he’s about to give El a call and tell her.”

“What about you?” You bite your lip, hoping Ellie is occupied upstairs and you can stay on with Luke a little longer. This feels less charged than the last few times you’ve spoken - easier, despite the heavy topic - and you just want him to know that this sort of stuff is still on the cards. At least, you hope it is. “Can’t have been easy, watching him go down like that.”

“I’m fine.” The way he says it is short, obviously a lie, and you try to tell yourself not to take it personally. Luke never usually lies to you. Sometimes he doesn’t really talk about stuff, but he’s never hidden his feelings from you. But this isn’t the kind of thing the two of you have really had to navigate, before. Maybe it’s even the kind of thing he doesn’t want to navigate with you - maybe it’s something friends don’t navigate together.

“You know you can talk to me if you’re not,” you assure him, in the hopes that he won’t shut you out. “I told Ellie I’d stay with her for a bit, but I can always call you after, even if you don’t want to talk, it’s been a while, I-,”

“I’m fine,” he repeats, even shorter this time, his tone clipped, and the silence that follows feels like it goes on forever.

“Okay,” You croak after a moment, hesitance creeping up on you, again, all joviality from the previous conversation drained.

“I gotta go,”

“Luke, I-,” you don’t even know what you want to say, but there’s this voice inside that’s screaming to say something. To put up some sort of fight, to make sure he knows you want to be there for him. But this sudden reluctance is all consuming. It’s debilitating, even, and it overpowers that meek, unsure voice in a booming, unavoidable roar, that tells you he doesn’t want your help. He wants to move on, and you’re not letting him. And so all you can bring yourself to say, again, is “Okay,” like a whispered resignation.

He mutters out some form of goodbye before he hangs, up, and you find yourself staring at the billowing steam rising from the mug of sleepy tea until a hand on your shoulder shakes you from your reverie.

“Was starting to think you’d knocked yourself out with this stuff,” Ellie huffs out a weak laugh as she steps up to the counter beside you, taking the mug by the handle and bringing it to her lips. You watch as she takes a sip, as the line of frustration between her brows smooths itself out, and her shoulders slump a little, relaxed and soothed. “Just spoke to Jack, he’s flying out to Jersey in the morning for further evaluation, said he’ll update me after.”

“Oh,” you shake yourself out of your own head, feigning ignorance as you cross your arms over your chest. You can’t tell her about your call with Luke, partly because you don’t know what Jack has told her to try and ease her worries, and partly because talking about Luke with Ellie fills you with unyielding dread every time, and it’s the last thing you need. “Does he have any idea what’s wrong?”

“Won’t know until tomorrow,” she sighs, “He thinks he’s gonna need surgery, though.”

“Shit,” you mutter.

“I think if that’s the case, I might ditch spring break and go spend it with him. Help him out while I can, you know?”

You nod, pressing your lips together. The two of you were booked on a trip to Cabo, your last spring break together as seniors, and a few of your sisters were going, too, so you won’t be on your own if she does have to ditch you. You can’t hold any resentment about it.

You’d do the same, if it happened to Luke, you think. Not that he probably would want you to, anymore.

Maybe that’s the problem. Maybe he’s right about boundaries, and blurred lines. Maybe you’re taking things too far.

“Of course,” you try to offer comfort, a reassuring smile that doesn’t feel as authentic as you’d like and a gentle pat to her shoulder, hoping you don’t reek of condescension.

Ellie chews at the corner of her bottom lip, like she wants to say something else, but nods, instead, diverting her gaze as she sips at her tea. “I’m here for you too, you know,” she says, after a few seconds, eyes peering up carefully to meet yours. “If you need me.”

“I’m not the one with the broken boyfriend,” you chuckle softly, thankful for the smile she gives back, a little of the tension eased from your shoulders.

The fact that you’re the one with the breaking bond goes unspoken, but you can tell Ellie is thinking it - it’s why she offered, in the first place, more perceptive of your situation with Luke than you probably give her credit for.

But you don’t want her pity - you don’t deserve it. You made your own bed with Luke, and all you can really do now is lie in it. He doesn’t want you anymore - not in the same capacity he used to, not like summer, whenever he cast a heated glance your way, and you’d feel it all the way through to your bones. You don’t think you’ll ever go back to that, it’s too late to get that back. You need to give him the space he so clearly desires, and maybe the two of you can find your way back to something resembling the friendship you had before you monumentally fucked it all up.

And maybe Ellie can give you the perfect distraction to do just that - focusing on fixing your relationship with her instead of investing all your efforts on a guy that no longer wants you back.

Luke knows it’s a selfish thing to say, but Jack’s injury has been hard on him.

For the second year in a row, his brother has had to end his season early, at the most crucial, cut-throat point as the team battle to make it to the playoffs, and Luke has had to shoulder a lot of the aftermath on his own.

There’s media, who are constantly asking him about it, waiting to trip him up, make him share something he’s not supposed to, or say something he doesn’t want to, and every time there’s a camera or a microphone shoved into his face, he dreads the social media discourse that follows.

There’s commentators and people in the league themselves, providing a constant reminder that the Devils are at some sort of disadvantage, and have to work twice as hard to make up for everyone that’s slowly succumbing to the brutality of the sport as they finally near the peak.

There’s coming home to an empty apartment while Jack’s away getting his surgery, and trying not to worry or overthink what he’s going through.

And then there’s Jack himself, when he returns - a grouchy, bitter mess of a person who can’t see the wood for the trees, can’t focus on anything other than where he’s stuck, watching his team persist in his absence and wishing more than anything in the world he can take someone’s place - that the misfortunes that keep finding him lose track, just once - even though he would never want anyone else to hurt like that.

And trying to juggle accommodating his brother's situation with his own is rough. Back to back losses following Jack’s departure, increased pressure on Luke as he takes on more responsibility within the team, and if you throw all of that in with the loss of his own coping mechanisms, Luke has found himself in a rut.

He isn’t sleeping the best, and he’s distanced from everyone - too in his head about seeing you and Ethan together to reach out to either one of you where he usually would - and he’s losing himself as the weeks blur by, and it isn’t until Jack mentions that Ellie is around that he lets himself think about you - about everything that happened in his bye-week, about how he’s been a pretty shitty friend to you, since.

“It’s spring break,” Jack says as Luke comes home to find him up and dressed for what seems like the first time since he got back from his surgery - struggling to shrug into a jacket while he only really has use of one arm. “She came out to spend it with me, gonna go over to her rental and watch a movie, you’re coming too.”

“Dude, I’m exhausted,” Luke huffs, throwing his keys into the bowl by the door as he watches his brother glare back at him, “I just want to go to bed, you don’t need me around when you’re hanging out with your girlfriend, I really don’t want to be seeing all that.”

“Lucky for you, there’s nothing to see,” Jack scowls back, “Ellie brought hell-spawn over with her, that’s why she isn’t staying here. Need you to work your magic as you seem to be the only one of us she can tolerate and I’m not in the mood for her bullshit.”

You’re in Jersey?

“I thought they were going to Cabo?” Luke frowns, too in his head about the fact that you’re in Jersey without telling him that he doesn’t call Jack out on how stupid he sounds, stopping in place as he watches his brother shrug in response.

“Ellie wanted to come out and see me, I guess she followed.”

And before Luke knows it, he’s driving the two of them over to the condo the two of you have rented for the week, and Ellie is answering the door with a giant grin on her face, cooing at Jack as she ushers them inside.

He’s looking around like a madman until she tells him you’re in the kitchen, and that you’re gonna need some help getting the snacks and drinks together - and despite it only being a few feet away, Luke feels breathless as he barges through the door, like he can’t calm down until he sees you in person.

Your back is to him when he enters, but the commotion he makes is enough to draw your attention, and your eyes are wide when they land on him, and not in the way that he usually likes.

Something about this whole situation makes him uneasy - the weeks of minimal contact, the lack of closure, the way you’re looking at him like you don’t know what to say.

You’ve never not known what to say, not when it comes to him.

“Hi,” he offers, because it’s the easiest thing for you to respond to, and the rest of the problems between the two of you are his own fault, so he may as well be the one to start to fix them.

“Hey,” you give back, the microwave pinging behind you, and you turn back to retrieve the bags from in there before you transfer them to the side. “I didn’t realise you were coming.”

“I didn’t realise you’d be in town,” he frowns, “Last you told me you guys were going to Mexico, your big senior spring break trip.”

That had been last month, and he has been a little distant since he left Michigan, but if you’re around, he would want to know about it. He can’t fathom why you’d be in the same city and not even tell him that you’re around.

He also can’t fathom why you’d give up something you’ve been looking forward to all year.

“Yeah, well, Ellie wanted to be here for Jack,” you shrug, busying yourself by emptying the popcorn out of the bag and into a few bigger bowls. He can’t remember ever having a conversation where you didn’t give him your full attention, and he feels a little nervous as he watches you focus on anything but him. “And I want to be here for Ellie, she shouldn’t have to miss out on her last spring break.”

“You couldn’t have told me?”

“Thought you’d be busy,” you reply, still not looking his way, “You’ve been busy most times I’ve tried to reach out the past few weeks.”

He wants to tell you that’s different, but it isn’t. He’s been avoiding you, and it’s obvious to the both of you that he’s been using the distance as the perfect excuse. He technically has been busy, but it’s no more than he was before that night in Michigan, and he managed to make time for you then. Sure, he’s been on the road, and there’s been a string of some pretty shitty games, but he’d had the same in January, too, and the two of you still kept up texting, at least.

“I mean, I’m playing like every other day this week,” he pouts, “But I’d still want to see you.”

He watches as your brows knit together, your movements coming to a halt as you stand in front of the counter, still not sparing him a glance. You pull your bottom lip between your teeth as you contemplate a response, and he wants to give you the time to think of one - doesn’t want to rush you again into saying something you don’t entirely mean.

He might have ignored Quinn’s instruction to clear up this entire mess before he left Michigan, but the rest of that conversation has still been weighing on his mind - about how he had been impulsive, and unfair, and he hadn’t considered all the ways you showed him things, without necessarily telling him.

“There is this art installation I wanted to visit,” you tell him, hesitantly meeting his eye, “We could go together, if you’re free at all?”

“As friends?” He asks, because he can’t help himself, watching as your eyebrows raise a little, like you’ve just been hit by an unexpected impact.

“Yeah,” you nod, although you don’t look entirely sure. “As friends.”

And he hates how he can’t even withhold the disappointed sigh he gives, your own shoulders slumping as you notice the reaction, and you retreat a little into your previous distance, eyes darting down until he can no longer see your irises.

“Maybe we should do something else,” he mutters, trying to push down the immediate need to backtrack when you don’t even respond, “You could come to a game, or something? An installation sounds cool and all, but that’s the kind of thing you do on a date, and we’re supposed to be moving on, right?”

“Are you?” You ask, peering up at him, again, “Moving on?”

He nods before he even realises he’s doing it, but it’s too late to stop before you notice, and all he can think about is the day he came back to Jersey, when he’d seen you leave your house with Ethan. All he can think about is losing you, and for some stupid reason, he thinks this is the only way to stop that. “I’m trying,” he shrugs, like he isn’t actively saying the most insanely stupid lie he’s ever told, “It’s what we said we’d do.” And he only says that to make himself feel better, he thinks - that you were only ever following the rules that he laid out for you, because it helps him to be delusional like that.

“Oh, okay,” you breathe, stepping back with a pained attempt at a smile and dodging his gaze, again, even quieter in your acceptance of his rejection, and it sort of makes him panic. “Yeah, it was stupid, this was stupid, I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to be sorry,” he frowns, the way he so quickly needs to correct you when you try to shrug him off coming by instinct, now. And he doesn’t like where this is going, now - misses the way you used to just roll your eyes and call him an idiot when he’d act like this, choosing the wrong path at every turn. He doesn’t think he’s ever heard you call yourself stupid, and he has to try to reassure you. “It’s not stupid, it’s cool, it sounds like it would be fun, it’s just-,”

“Not together,” you bite back, “I get it.”

He sighs out your name, regretful and apologetic, “That’s not-,”

“Are you guys almost done in here?” Ellie huffs as she shoulders her way into the kitchen, features curled into a soft scowl as she stomps toward the counter, and Luke bites down on his tongue, fighting the sudden urge to tell her to go away. Her and his brother both have the single worst timing he’s ever known in his life. “Jack won’t shut up about how hungry he is."

“Yeah, sorry,” you mutter, “We’re ready.”

And Luke steps back to let the two of you carry some drinks and snacks through to the living room, holding the door open for the two of you and trying to meet your eye as you slip past, his chest aching all over when you don’t. He grabs whatever’s left and follows the two of you out, watching as you sink down into one of the smaller loveseats,

Jack and Ellie are taking up most of the couch, so he walks straight over to the seat opposite yours, an entire coffee table separating the two of you where you’d usually sit together, and he tries not to think about the last time you watched a movie - your birthday, when you’d been squished up against his side in your bed, the Wall-E plush he got you smushed between you as you watched the film, itself.

The last time things had felt easy - the last time any of it had felt right.

And then he’d gone and ruined it.

Jack tees up Good Will Hunting, huffing and puffing when the remote isn’t working like he wants it to but refusing to accept anyone’s help on the matter, and Luke busies himself with his phone while it starts, trying to sort some tickets for his next game so he doesn’t let you down on that front, either, and every time he peers over at you, he thinks the tension grows, somehow, your jaw set and your eyes focusing only on the screen.

He dips in and out of the movie, waiting for an update so that he can hopefully set about bridging the gap between the two of you tonight, and he only tunes back in at random intervals.

He’s seen it before, it’s one of his favourites, and he probably could quote it back to front without assistance, but certain parts have a new meaning when he really hears them, this time.

Especially when it comes to a certain monologue, the comforting voice of Robin Williams ringing throughout the room as his character sits beside Will in the park, watching the swans and realising just how short Will’s perspective on life is.

“If I ask you about women, you'd probably give me a syllabus about your personal favourites. You may have even been laid a few times. But you can't tell me what it feels like to wake up next to a woman and feel truly happy.”

He tries not to glance your way, his jaw tight as he blinks slow, recollections of waking up by your side flashing in his mind like something out of a dream. A blissful peace he hasn’t quite experienced elsewhere, his eyes flitting around your features as you slept, trying to study every inch of your face to commit it to his memory, never knowing if each time he got to experience it that it might be the last.

“I'd ask you about love, you'd probably quote me a sonnet. But you've never looked at a woman and been totally vulnerable. Known someone that could level you with her eyes, feeling like God put an angel on earth just for you. Who could rescue you from the depths of hell.”

He thinks of all those times he sought you out for his own personal comfort - after back to back games that drained every ounce of his energy, long stretches away from the comfort of his own bed, the constant comparisons to his brothers, and how he’d always come up short - but he was always first, to you.

Even when the two of you were caught up in the in-between, whatever you were before - friends, or something more - he always felt like a priority to you. Always wanted you to feel like a priority to him.

“And you wouldn't know what it's like to be her angel, to have that love for her be there forever, through anything.”

The night of your birthday, the light in your eyes when he gave you those gifts, the soft but beautiful curve of your lips as you told him he was your best friend. The way you were worried he’d get tired of you, and he had promised that he wouldn’t.

“You don't know about real loss, 'cause it only occurs when you've loved something more than you love yourself. And I doubt you've ever dared to love anybody that much.”

He hopes with everything in him that this isn’t the same - that he isn’t losing you. That his own immaturity and impatience hasn’t ruined the best thing he ever had in his life.

Because he does love you. He’s loved you for a long time, now.

Since the night of his cousin’s wedding, he thinks, when you’d opened up to him for the first time. Back when you laid in his arms in the dead of the night, your head on his chest and his arms around your body, and it finally felt like you were equals. Like he could stop chasing you, like you’d stop running.

He’s never felt the way he feels with you about anybody else. He doesn’t want to, doesn’t think he possibly could.

He doesn’t know why he ever made out like he could move on.

But he’s too familiar with saying things he regrets, now. It just keeps happening. Mouthing off to Cole back in summer, agreeing to be just friends in the fall, telling you that he can’t wait around for you at the end of winter, that he’s trying to move on.

Quinn was right, that morning when he called - he keeps doing stupid stuff out of impulse. Keeps letting his emotions get the better of him, and not giving you a chance to figure things out for yourself.

When he finds the courage to glance your way again, he just about catches you before you look away - a blink and you’ll miss it moment where he’s not even sure if he imagined it, but he keeps trying for the rest of the movie, a lot more focused on the ending than he previously was on his phone.

He thinks when it ends, and the credits start to roll, he’ll be able to find a way to ease the tension - to get you alone and talk it out, but his stupid brother opens his stupid mouth, and things escalate before he can even make sense of what’s happening.

“Stuff like that just doesn’t happen in real life,” Jack huffs, giving his thoughts on how Will chose to leave and go after Skylar, despite their mess of a relationship and how much he hurt her before, “These big love confessions, this whole corny, I gotta see about a girl, thing, why wouldn’t he just be honest about his feelings in the first place instead of trying to sabotage himself? Would save them a lot of trouble.”

You scoff from your own corner of the couch, and Luke’s eyes dart over just in time to catch the distinct roll of your eyes, barely even sparing a glance to Jack as you say, “That’s rich coming from you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Jack winces as he straightens up, Ellie frowning from under his good arm as she follows suit, and Luke feels his own shoulders stiffen in anticipation of an argument - Jack’s been riled up to have one since he got injured, and you’re walking straight into a trap without knowing it.

But you can handle yourself, he thinks, especially when it comes to Jack.

Only something in you deflates when he looks again, the usual tenacity dissolving right before his eyes, and he watches as your gaze softens, flicking between the couple at the opposite end of the couch. “Forget it, doesn’t matter,” you mutter, your jaw set and your attention diverted back to the screen as the credits roll.

“That’s what I thought,” Jack grumbles back, accepting the swat Ellie gives to his good side to tell him to reign it in.

Luke doesn’t know why he stays silent, the urge to speak up for you is so strong it’s making his fingers twitch, but you sink into your place against the arm of the seat and fold your arms over yourself, like you’re giving up entirely.

“I was just saying, he’s a smartass, he’s hard work and she isn’t cut out for it, it shouldn’t be such a struggle to get somebody to open up, their relationship probably wouldn’t last a month once the movie’s over, if she even lets him back in when he goes to California, that is.”

Luke can see as clear as anything that Jack’s only using the film to vent his own frustrations - that he’s angry, and he’s exhausted, and he’s upset at everybody and everything - but he only understands that because it’s his brother. Because he’s known him his whole life. Because he gets where he’s coming from as a player - and Luke thinks he would be the same, if his season came to an abrupt end when he was on such a high, and all he’d known for the past month was loss and pain. He’d be angry, he’d snap at people, try to get them to hurt just a little bit so that it means he’s not alone. And it’s shitty, but he gets it - if his words were spoken to hurt Luke, he’d probably just shoulder the blow.

But they aren’t.

They’re meant to hurt you.

And when Luke looks over, and you’re staring at the wall with a distant, glassy look in your eyes, your lips twisted to stop them trembling, and your arms wrapped around yourself so tight that your shoulders are all hunched up, he can’t really bite his tongue anymore.

“You’re such a hypocrite,” he spits, eyes narrowing as they focus in on his brother, “You’re hard work, and you’re lucky Ellie isn’t running for the hills,”

“Whoa,” Jack frowns back, lips pouting as he diverts his attention across the room, “Chill out, man, it’s just a movie, I’m just saying my thoughts on it.”

“No one asked for your thoughts on it,” Luke scowls, “You’re being a dick for no reason, you don’t always have to spout your opinion on every little thing like it’s fact and shut down anyone who tries to argue with it.”

He expects to have caught your attention, seeing you move out of the corner of his eye, but he doesn’t expect for you to push yourself up and leave the room entirely, your feet padding softly against the carpet until the sound of them disappears completely, and the door to the kitchen swings closed behind you.

“Clearly touched a nerve,” Jack mumbles, and even Ellie pushes herself off of him, rolling her eyes until she storms off after you.

Luke almost wishes she hadn’t - wishes that he could be the one to go and comfort you, but after your conversation in the kitchen, before, he’s not sure if that’s what you would want.

And he knows it’s his fault for this wedge that’s between the two of you, after pushing you away and telling you to move on and getting all in his feelings about you potentially doing so, leaving Michigan before the two of you could actually talk about it and neglecting to patch up the now gaping hole in your relationship - but he doesn’t know how to fix it.

He doesn’t know how he can sit around and pretend like everything’s fine.

“You really can be an asshole, you know,” Luke snaps at his brother, using the situation as a cover for the way he wants someone to tell him the same - wants you to say it, for you to tell him that he’s dumb, and an idiot, and that he’s hurting you. He doesn’t want you avoiding eye contact and sitting on the other side of the room and coming to Jersey without even telling him.

“It’s not that deep, Luke-,”

“Seriously?” He scoffs, standing from his own seat and glaring down at Jack, his good arm sprawled across the back of the couch like he’s trying his best to make himself bigger, like Luke can’t see straight through the facade. “I get that you’re having a shitty time of it right now, but you don’t have to take it out on everybody else. You asked me to come with you to try and keep things from blowing up, but all you do is make digs at her for no good reason. I don’t get why you can’t just be nice.”

“I asked you to come with me because I thought you two were friends,” Jack lowers his voice, mindful of the fact that there’s only a wall that separates you and Ellie from the two of them, and he’s obviously on the verge of being in his girlfriend’s bad books after his behaviour. “She was annoyed about something before we even started the movie, it doesn’t take a genius to figure out what when she won’t even look your way, Luke. I’m sick of you blaming me for her pissy attitude and not just having it out with her.”

God, he wishes Jack would just butt out of his business, for once.

Why can’t there be a middle ground between his unrelenting cynicism and Quinn’s blind hope?

If there was just one distinct voice for him to listen to, one clear instruction for him to follow, then he’d be able to make sense of everything swirling around his brain.

He thinks that voice would probably be yours, and he’s going to fall apart if you keep it from him much longer.

“I think you two should go,” Ellie’s voice carries softly over from where she’s come back out of the kitchen, “You have that appointment in the morning, Jack, and you have a game tomorrow,” her eyes are cautious as she casts her gaze toward Luke, raising a brow as if pleading for his help in getting his brother out of the way.

“Yeah,” he mutters, cursing himself for not being the one to go straight after you, instead.

Jack doesn’t put up much of a fight other than his usual huffing and puffing as Ellie helps him into his coat, and Luke gives the two of them a second to say their goodbyes as he stands to the side, keeping an eye on the door you’re yet to reappear through. He wants to give you space - knows that he shouldn’t follow you in there to corner you again, but if you peek your head out, maybe he’ll feel a little less anxious. Maybe then there’s hope.

“Could you let her know I got her a ticket for the game tomorrow?” He asks Ellie before he leaves, “I can get you one, too, a couple of the guys from Michigan are gonna be there, I’d love it if she came.”

“I’ll let her know, Luke,” Ellie’s smile is apologetic, but it just makes him feel worse, and he drives him and Jack back to their apartment in the most uncomfortable silence of his life, his jaw set so hard it aches when he’s home, and he storms straight to his room with a dramatic slam of his door.

He opens up your text thread as he lays awake for what feels like an hour, staring at the keyboard and willing some sort of explanation to come to his head as to why he’s such an idiot.

And that’s how he ends up falling asleep, phone still clutched on his hand, and no further clarification on what the hell is going to happen with the two of you.

When Ellie had told you last night about Luke’s invitation to his game, it had felt like a no brainer at the time that you’d skip this one out.

You don’t really know how many more knock backs you can take from him after telling him about the installation - an exhibit you’d seen online months ago, that would only be in town for a limited time following its success in Europe, and Luke had been the only person in mind you’d have ever wanted to go with.

But he doesn’t want to go with you.

He wants you at a safe distance, with distinct boundaries, and while you’re grateful for his attempt to try and lessen the blow of his rejection, you think foregoing the game entirely is the safest distance you could possibly wedge between the two of you.

As friends? He’d asked, almost immediately, like he was rubbing your face in it - like the mere thought of you wanting to go as anything more wasn’t even worth entertaining, anymore. And agreeing had been your last attempt to save face, because the last thing you were gonna do was put your heart on the line with his dickhead brother only one room away. You’re not that much of an idiot.

Plus, Ellie has taken your place - and she said some of the guys from college would be there, anyway. He probably won’t even notice you’re not there, just like how he’s managed to pretty much ignore your existence since he left Michigan.

And you can enjoy your first night of peace during your spring break, the others so far consumed by Ellie - not that you mind, all that much, it’s been kind of nice for the two of you to be away from everything, even though you’re within dangerous proximity to her demon boyfriend.

The rental she found is nice, too - the kind of place you could see yourself living in when you move over this way - spacious but cozy, with a giant TV that you can’t wait to watch your heart-shredding movie marathon on.

You set the space up as soon as Ellie left for the game, blankets thrown onto the couch, an array of snacks on the table, My Best Friend’s Wedding on the screen, and you’re about to settle in when there’s a harsh knock at the door, shattering your illusion of peace in an instant.

You grumble the whole way to the door, making sure the chain is on before you open it - all too aware you’re on your own in a city you aren’t entirely familiar with, and it would be just your luck to be murdered, probably.

But when you open the door, you almost wish it was a masked killer.

Jack Hughes stands on the porch, eyes narrowing as you peer at him through the crack in the door, his hip popped impatiently and foot tapping against the floor.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

“Are you gonna let me in?” he asks, raising a brow as he huffs out an irritable sigh, “Considering I’m paying for the place, I really shouldn’t have to ask.”

You frown as you move, unlatching the door and giving him enough room to pass you without the risk of bumping your shoulder and agitating his. “I didn’t know that,” you mumble, annoyed even more so now that Ellie had chosen not to tell you that. You suppose it’s your own fault for not asking, but she of all people knows how you are about others paying your way. “That you were paying, I’ll pay you back if it’s a problem.”

“It isn’t.” He rolls his eyes as he stands in the room you thought was actually nice before he arrived, and now you sort of hate it.

“Alright, well you didn’t answer my question,” you glare, “Why are you here?”

“I’m supposed to be checking up on you,” he says, rounding the couch before he throws himself down onto it, kicking off his shoes before he swings his legs up. “Usually when I have a headache so bad I can’t leave the house, watching the TV is the last thing I’d be doing.”

“Yeah, well, some of us are built different,” you scowl, “I’m fine, you can go ahead and crawl back to whatever pit you came from, I’ll let Ellie know you fulfilled your supportive boyfriend duties for the month.”

“Can’t actually,” he shrugs his good shoulder, reaching forward and grabbing the remote from where you left it. “Game’s starting in ten minutes, I won’t make it back to my place in time so you’re stuck with me for the next few hours.”

“Great.”

“Plus, Ellie didn’t send me, Luke did.”

You don’t exactly know how to feel about that. Jack couldn’t be more obvious in his distain for you, and you couldn’t have made it any clearer that you aren’t his biggest fan either, so why Luke would send him of all people instead of just texting you and asking if you’re alright, you don’t know. Especially after the movie last night - Jack is the last person on Earth you would want checking up on you.

“Sorry he wasted your time, then,” you sigh, “I’m gonna go to bed.”

“We both know you don’t have a headache,” Jack calls over his shoulder, “So you can give up the act. You’d really leave a guy in a sling on his own for hours? What if I need a drink?”

“That’s what your good arm’s for,” you smile, sardonically, a quick flash of sarcasm that drops as soon as Jack rolls his eyes, “So lucky that you have two.”

“Please?” He asks, uncharacteristically, the sudden shock of him actually being polite instead of demanding causing you to still, “I don’t like watching the games on my own, it makes me all tense, which makes everything hurt a whole lot more.”

And the sudden vulnerability from him seems to hypnotise you, huffing out a petulant fine and sitting as far away from him on the couch as you possibly can.

You’re leaning against one arm, and he’s leaning against the other, and the two of you sit through the build up and the first ten minutes in complete silence until he notices that you’re actually watching, unable to help himself from being a dick, apparently, and asking, “Do you even know what’s going on?”

“No, I just watch for the hot guys,” you scoff, “Thank god you’re not there to lower the average anymore.”

The genuine laugh he snorts out in response in unexpected, and you side eye him until you can feel his attention is completely diverted, the two of you settling back into the quiet until a play towards the end of the first period stuns the two of you.

Luke has the puck, and he’s going so fast you can barely focus, gliding in between the opposition seamlessly until he’s advancing on the net, and just as he’s about to shoot, a much bigger body slams into him, knocking him back until he collides with the boards and crumples over, and a sickening sense of deja vu creeps up on you so quick it makes you dizzy.

You watch the aftermath wide eyed, the whole thing blurring together as Luke takes himself off the ice, and disappears down the tunnel.

The game carries on, but you can’t move - you don’t even think you’ve blinked in a minute - and your mouth is still gaped open like an idiot, the inside of it drying so much that you feel it all the way down your throat.

“He’ll be alright,” you hear from the side of you, a hesitant, reassuring tone that you don’t think you’ve heard come from Jack, before. You turn your head to meet his eye, and his body is fully angled towards you, his gaze scrutinising and intense. “It’s just a knock, he’ll be back on after the intermission probably.”

“Reassuring coming from the guy who just had to have surgery after a knock.” You can’t help but snap back, little bite in your own inflection, but you ache from the tip of your tongue all the way down to your stomach. It didn’t look like just a knock - you’ve seen Luke take knocks before and never have to go off for medical attention - it looked way worse. And all they’re gonna do for the next 15 minutes is replay it over and over.

You feel sick.

“Lukey’s made of harder stuff,” Jack responds, the same relaxed lull to his voice. “That’s what my dad’s always said, anyway. Quinn would tell you the same, there’s something about him that always just bounces straight back, pisses me off a little sometimes, if I’m honest.”

You should probably know that better than anyone - for all the times you’ve pushed him away. But you’re starting to lose faith in that fact, a little.

“I just don’t want him to be hurt.” You mutter, trying to swallow past the stinging at the back of your throat, gulp down the growing insecurity that maybe you’ve made him weaker, maybe, somehow, this too is your fault.

“My phone’ll probably go off during the break” Jack sits up a little straighter, gesturing out to his cell that sits on the coffee table in front of the couch. “They’ll text me as soon as they’re done taking a look at him. I promise they’d know by now already if it was anything serious. I’d have gotten a call, our medical team are seriously good, they can tell stuff like that in an instant.”

It might be the fact that you’re relying on Jack Hughes of all people for reassurance that forces the tears to start welling in your eyes, your view of him blurring a little - or maybe the fact that he’s actually wilfully giving the reassurance, but either way, you don’t really want him to see you cry.

You sit in an uncomfortable silence as you watch the rest of the period, fidgeting in your place on the couch and picking painfully at the skin beside your fingernails, and it’s only when the last few seconds tick down that you can see Jack shuffle himself in your peripheral, turning until he’s properly facing you again.

“You really care about him, huh?”

You try to blink away the remaining threat of tears before you turn, yourself, meeting Jack’s eye across the couch and trying to muster up some sort of strength to shrug off this awful feeling that you can’t shake. “I’m not the heartless bitch you think I am, Jack,” you denounce, “Of course I care about him.”

He narrows his eyes in a glare, and you can tell he’s biting his tongue, careful not to goad you into some disastrous argument that neither of you really want. Last night had no doubt scratched his itch to lash out at somebody, and you don’t really think you’ll manage a round two.

The two of you stay locked in a heated, silent exchange for a few extended seconds, his jaw tense and your teeth chewing at the corner of your mouth in anticipation.

“Do you love him?”

“It doesn’t matter,” you sigh, like it’s instinctual at this point, and you wince, even, once the words come out. They feel wrong. They feel like a bare-faced lie. Like some foreign language you have no business even attempting to speak. “I’m hard work, you know that, he knows that, and I think I’m all out of chances to try and convince him otherwise.”

“He doesn’t think you’re hard work,” Jack replies, “Trust me, I’ve been trying to convince him of as much since last summer, and he refuses to listen.”

“He said it himself to Cole,” you huff, hating how quick the memory comes to the forefront of your mind, hearing him say those things about you like it was nothing, replaying them over and over in your head like they were everything. “I heard it, Ellie heard it, he said that I wasn’t the kind of girl that he would date, and that I wasn’t worth the hassle.”

“And I’m sure he told you after that he didn’t mean any of that,” Jack tries to defend, brows furrowing as he thinks of any way to get his point across. “People say stupid things in the heat of the moment, we know that better than anybody, you can’t seriously think he actually believes that stuff,”

“He had to have been thinking it for it to have been said in the heat of the moment, Jack, he didn’t pull all that stuff out of his ass. He always knew it wasn’t gonna work out.”

Jack sighs your name, his free hand rising to rub at his temple in exasperation, and you wait as he winces, your eyes darting to check for any uncomfortable movements with his shoulder - but it’s something else that’s bothering him.

“I put those thoughts into his head.”

The concept isn’t surprising - you’ve always known Jack hadn’t liked you, always knew he was badmouthing you to whoever would listen, and snarking at you for the entire house to see. It’s what he’d done last night, using the movie as some sort of metaphor for just how fucked up you are, and everybody in the room could see it.

“I told him every opportunity I could get that you weren’t gonna work out, and that you were bad news, and you’d just mess him around until you got bored.” Jack admits, and again, you’re not shocked. He’d said as much to your face. You even thought you’d resolved this whole thing with him last summer, before everything went to shit, but he’s been off with you since then, so you have no doubt his sentiments have picked straight back up where they left off all those months ago. “And every time I did, he’d just tell me to go fuck myself. Still does. I tell him all the time you’re not good for him, and he just tells me I don’t know you. You’re like the only thing we fight about, and we live together for God’s sake, he’s messy as all hell and I don’t give him half as much grief about that as he gives me about being a dick to you.”

“You’re just proving my point,” you huff, “If I’m causing arguments between the two of you, I’m hardly the kind of person he should be keeping around.”

“He loves you too, you know,” Jack offers as rebuttal, raising a brow as if pushing you to fight back on the fact when you zero in on him. “He told Quinn when he was in Michigan. I got this huge lecture off of him about butting in on your business where I’m not wanted.”

You chew a little at the corner of your mouth, the sudden, inappropriate urge to laugh rising within you at the thought of Jack getting a telling off from his big brother.

“I’ve been angry this whole time that he doesn’t talk to me about stuff when it comes to you, but I guess I’ve been giving him a good reason not to.”

And as much as you don’t get along with Jack, the thought of driving a wedge between them - between all of them - makes you feel like crap, so all you can do is carry on fighting him.

“He wants to move on,” you shrug, “And he said some pretty shitty stuff about me back in summer when Cole said he wanted to take me out, he doesn’t think as highly of me as he makes out.”

“You’re gonna sit there and tell me that if a girl came up to you and said they were gonna ask him out, you wouldn’t try and talk them out of it?” Like you didn’t storm off at the mere sight of him with Victoria at that party. Like you haven’t been spiralling for weeks over him liking some girl’s post on instagram. “That you wouldn’t feel like someone was trying to take something from you?”

Of course you’d feel that way, you think.

Luke Hughes might be the only person you’ve ever let all the way in, and if someone were to swoop in and snatch him from your clutches, you’d probably go insane.

You’d do anything you could to deter them - including using Luke’s flaws and self-doubts against him. You’d even stretch them to fit your agenda, exaggerating the depth of them to make sure you really put them off.

You’d tell them he can be really insecure - that he gets in his head about stuff, especially anything that can be considered a comparison to his brothers - and that sometimes it brings out something avoidant and petty within him. You’d tell them that he isn’t serious when he needs to be, and that, 9 times out of 10, he’s going to crack some awkward joke that doesn’t land and he doesn’t really know how to properly resolve tension. You’d tell them that he craves validation, and it can be a minefield sometimes to navigate his need for attention.

You wouldn’t tell them that you love all those things - that he gives you this look when you stroke his ego that makes your heart stop, and that your sense of humour matches his like two perfectly placed pieces of a puzzle, and that he somehow manages to creep under your thick skin when you’re trying to stay mad or upset for no reason other than you think you need to. You wouldn’t tell them that he fills the exact same validation-void in yourself, and that the two of you balance each other out like two sides of the same coin.

And as much as the things he had said last summer crushed you - and for as many times as you’ve replayed them in your head over and over for the past several months since hearing them - you think you finally get it.

Jack Hughes is going to be the last person that you admit that to, though.

“We’re not each other’s property,” you protest weakly, instead.

“Oh don’t come at me with that bullshit,” he exasperates, rolling his eyes and shaking his head, “I’m not saying he owned you, or that you own him, I’m saying the two of you put in way too much fucking work for someone else to reap the benefits of it.”

“You have a lot to say, all of a sudden, for someone who’s been trying to put him off of me for God-knows how long.”

“Yeah, well, maybe I was wrong about you.” He huffs, like it pains him to say it, “And maybe last night I was angry about something else entirely, and I took it out on you because I didn’t want to feel that way on my own.”

Oh.

If that’s as close to an apology as you’re gonna get, you don’t think you entirely mind it.

It makes sense, after all, you think. The two of you have always had this incessant need to rile the other up, and you were the easiest bait he had to make himself feel better.

If you’d had a month like Jack just had, you’d probably do the same.

“Why didn’t you go to the game?” He asks, and just as your lips part to respond, he adds, “And don’t insult me with the whole headache thing,” forcing you to press them back together.

You sigh, weighing up in your mind if it’s even worth it to open up to Jack at this point. Sure, he’s making out like he finally sees your true intentions, but does it really matter anymore?

“He doesn’t want me there.”

“Of course he wants you there,” Jack frowns, features curling in confusion. “He got you a ticket, he invited you.”

“It was like a consolation thing,” You huff, thinking back on that conversation in the kitchen, where you’d mustered up the courage to cross some unspoken boundary, and he’d shut you down. “I wanted to do something else together, and he said it was too much, said we should be moving on. Blurring me into a crowd of thousands is the only alternative, apparently.”

Jack snorts out some muffled noise, somewhere between a chuckle and a scoff, and you glare at him as you wait for him to clarify whatever the hell sort of response that was. “You’re both as annoying as each other, you know.”

“Whatever,” you pout, shuffling your body to turn away from him again as you fold your arms over your chest like a petulant child, “He wants to move on, so I’m giving him the space to do that. I’m done with it.”

You don’t know who you’re trying to convince, but you should know better than to think that would ever work on him.

“Right,” Jack snickers, “So done with it that you’re sat here almost crying at the thought of something happening to him.” You scowl, then, because what’s the point in trying to soften your reactions if he’s just going to be an asshole about it. “He’s fine, by the way,” he shakes his phone, then, giving a blurry glimpse of a message thread you can’t even read.

And you thought good news would have lessened the pressure in your chest, this pulsing, swelling feeling that grips at your heart like a vice at the thought of him being hurt - but it doesn’t really go down, at all.

Luke said he wanted to move on. He said he wanted to be friends, and that the two of you should stop blurring the lines.

So why is he sending one brother across the city to check up on you? And why is he telling the other that he loves you?

You weren’t entirely lying, before.

You are done.

And the only way you think you can ease this pain now is to talk it out, with him, once and for all.

Trying to talk to Luke is harder than you ever thought it could be.

Texting him seems out of the question, as stupid as that sounds, but when you open up your messages to try, you’re faced with weeks worth of one-word responses that put you straight off - the thought of him shutting you down one more time almost toppling you over the edge of insanity.

And you could call, but it fills you with the same sort of dread. The last time the two of you spoke on the phone had been when Jack was injured - when you’d offered to be there for him if he needed you and he’d sort of snapped at you.

And sure, emotions were high, but things haven’t really been the same since that conversation. They haven’t been the same since the kiss, but there’s a part of you that doesn’t really want the burden of all the blame on your shoulders for once.

There have been countless opportunities for the you to clear everything up, but there have been chances for him, too, and you’re starting to think that maybe the two of you are far too content to let each other suffer instead of actually communicating your feelings like adults.

And after you spend the whole day after the game you missed dwelling on that fact, you’re grateful for a little reprieve when you get a text from Ethan, in town to talk about his own career, who wants to go out for drinks to toast to everything - to spring break, to your NYU acceptance, his devils contract.

He drops a pin for a bar in Hoboken, and you and Ellie make your way down together, meeting up with him and a few of the other guys to celebrate, and it’s the first night in a while that you feel like you don’t need to stress about anything.

You manage to push Luke to the back of your mind for a while, sat in a booth beside Ethan as he shows you pictures of the apartment he went to look at a couple days ago, his plans to move over here coming a lot sooner than yours, but apparently the building have vacancies coming up in the fall, and the two of you talk about how weird it is that you’re gonna be close, again.

You’re joking with him about his hookup with your sorority sister Megan, threatening to bring her over as your roommate and giggling into your hand through a drunken buzz, when the one person you’re trying to forget for a second appears out of nowhere, standing beside the booth as he looks down at the two of you with an unfamiliar sadness in his eyes. He looks a little run down, dressed in a hoody that stretches across his shoulders, and donning a baseball cap that’s probably supposed to keep his presence lowkey.

“Lukey boy!” Ethan exclaims as he stands to greet him, the two of them doing that brotherly fist bump and hug that all guys do, “Thought you were too beat to come out!”

“Changed my mind,” he shrugs, eyes glancing back at you. “You mind if I sit?”

“Nope,” you shrug, nodding to the opposite side, where he slides in, and his knees knock against yours under the table.

“I’ll get you a drink,” Ethan tells him, winking over at you as he backs away, your eyes wide as you watch him retreat before you look back at Luke, the silence around you almost visible in animated ellipses that dot in the space between the two of you.

“Since when are the two of you so friendly?” He asks, tone surprisingly bitter as his eyes darken, and you feel your defences build despite them usually being so weak in his presence.

“We’ve always been friendly,” you frown, “Since when are you so rude? What happened to hello, how are you?”

“I don’t know, probably since you started avoiding me,” he juts out his bottom lip, leaning into the back of the booth and stretching his hands out on the surface, “Hard to stay nice when you come to town without telling me and send Ellie to a game I specifically invited you to.”

“You told me you didn’t want to hang out with me,” you scoff, uneasy with how quick this entire conversation is escalating. You’re a little tipsy, but there’s no excuse for how he’s so quick to snap at you.

“That’s not what I said and you know it,” he huffs.

“No, I don’t know it, because you’ve been avoiding me too,” you bite back, “Why are you being such a dick all of a sudden?”

“You kissed me,” he leans forward onto his elbows, eyes dark under the shadow of the bill of his cap, and you feel a shudder run through you at the intensity behind his gaze, at the memory the mere mention of it invokes - combined with the rasp in his voice, it’s taking everything in you to fight the urge to do it again. “It was barely 3 weeks ago, and now you’re here, without telling me, and you won’t talk to me, and you’re all buddy-buddy with Ethan all of a sudden-,”

“You pushed me away,” you snap back, eyes narrowing to mirror his, “You told me I was making things harder for you, and that I should move on, and then you started avoiding my calls and sending one word responses to my texts, you don’t get to sit there and be an asshole to me just because I’m hanging out with somebody else.”

“So that’s what this is,” He points over to where Ethan is lingering at the bar, no doubt flashing those puppy-dog eyes to the girl behind it, a charming grin cast her way as you can see her blush from all the way across the room. ”This is you moving on?”

“Ethan and I are just friends,” you frown, watching as Luke’s jaw tenses in response, clenching at either side of his face in a way that would usually turn your mouth dry. “I’m not moving on, we aren’t dating.”

Luke’s eyes are stormy when they meet yours - strained and serious as he weighs up your response. “Neither were we.”

The next breath you take is sharp and jittery, gaze still fixed on his from across the table - and despite the proximity of your bodies, him leaning forward, and you just about doing the same, and the urge you had mere seconds ago to close the gap between you, you couldn’t feel any further apart.

You see his hands shift in your peripheral, long fingers picking at the label on Ethan’s empty beer bottle before his gaze shifts down - guilty and withdrawn. You can’t look away, though - you need to properly look at him, you need to try and see some lifeline you can cling to, here.

He’d pushed you away back in Michigan. He’s been distant, since - too busy for calls, too avoidant for any attempt at a lengthy text conversation. He’s irritated, now - even if he won’t say as much - you can tell by the heavy set of his jaw, and the way his eyes narrow whenever Ethan is too close.

“What were we, then?” You ask before you can think better of it, before some internal part of you convinces yourself that his answer will only serve to hurt you. You’re not going to get anywhere by holding back, anymore.

He’d drank from that cup all those months ago back at that party. Never have I ever been in love. He’d looked you in the eyes as his lips pressed to the red plastic, and he’d watched and waited for you to respond.

And everything that happened after that will never erase the memory of that heated look in his eyes - piercing straight through the flames in the middle of your circle of friends, burning into the very depths of your being and warming you just enough for the months that followed.

All the talk about being only friends, of getting any other feelings out of your systems one last time and pretending to rinse them away - it was that night out in the yard of the hockey house that kept things alive, you think.

Knowing that somewhere down the line, despite everything you put each other through - despite the insecurity, and the jealousy, and the pain - he loved you, and he might possibly be the only guy who ever has. The only guy you ever want to.

“Friends,” He frowns as he continues to pick at the sticky paper, tearing the corner until it starts to peel, briefly glancing up to meet your eye as he asks, “That’s all we’ll ever be, right?”

You gulp, your own gaze dropping to the surface between you, eyes tracing the rings of condensation on the table left behind from the chilled bottles.

“I don’t know if I’m good at being friends,” comes out somewhat instinctively, your brows furrowing as the circles your eyes were mapping seem to hypnotise you into unprompted vulnerability. “I’m having a hard time moving past what happened last summer, I think,” you admit, a rattling breath following, hesitant to do so but needing to get it out, to make him understand that none of this is easy for you - letting him go and moving on isn’t some minor thing he can simply suggest to make things better. It’s not possible. “I feel like it’s always in the back of my mind when I’m with you, like I can’t let it go.”

Spilling secrets by the fountain at the country club, kissing in his car when he’d pick you up from work, pulling over on some deserted side road where no one could see, splashing at him in the lake, the sun rays bouncing off the water and bringing out the sea-glass shade of his irises. Trying on stupid disguises in the thrift store at the mall together, his hands on your waist as you danced together at his cousin’s wedding, defending you to his brother whenever Jack tried to pick some stupid fight with you.

It all plays like flashes from a movie at every given opportunity - the second you give your mind a chance to wander, it travels straight back to those weeks spent in his company, to a time where you’d shared a connection so intense that it permanently altered some deep, previously untouchable part of you.

“I thought that I could just push it down,” you sniffle, “I thought that being friends might help me forget, but I can’t, it just feels harder.”

He mutters your name, softer and quieter than before, but the intention is there to say something as a rebuttal, you can tell by his tone.

You don’t really have much fight left in you, though, not anymore.

“And you were right, back in Ann Arbor, it’s not fair to you.”

“That’s not what I meant-,”

“It is,” you resign, “I don’t know how to be your friend, I don’t know what I want anymore, and I can’t keep pretending and making everything worse for you when it would just be easier if we,”

“If we what?”

“Stopped.” You croak, every muscle in your throat working to resist the words from actually working their way up and coming out. “Whatever it is that we’re trying to be, or trying not to be. So that you can move on, like you want.”

You chance a quick glance up, vision blurred by a thick wall of tears, and meet his startled gaze.

“Is that what you want?” His voice shakes a little as he asks, breathy and reluctant - like he’s bracing himself for your own response to hurt.

It doesn’t really matter what you want, you think. You’ve long lost any right to fight for it - not when it comes to him. You had your chance in summer, to open up about all the things you were starting to feel, and you chose to push them down. You don’t even know why, anymore.

You really thought there would be something left to salvage of your relationship with Luke - something to cling to so that he couldn’t push you away, something that got the two of you back on track, especially after talking to his brother, last night - but now that you’re here, everything just feels wrong. It all feels like a stab in the dark, like you’re no longer familiar with the boundaries of what is or isn’t okay with him, and that leaves you feeling lost, again. Like even the slightest attempt to bridge the gap is one giant wasted effort.

And you know all too well where this feeling gets you - too afraid to put your heart on the line, you hide it away, lock it up and throw away the key so that no one can even attempt to get to it again.

He doesn’t want to hang out one-on-one, away from the safety of using Ellie and Jack as a buffer. He doesn’t want to watch movies like you used to, or talk on the phone, or even be within 5 feet of you, it seems. He’s annoyed that you’re close to his other friends, he’s annoyed that you’re around at all, you think.

He doesn’t want you anymore - he shuts down every thought of being anything more, and he can talk all he wants about blurring lines and still being friends, but you know how this plays out.

He wants to move on, he’s said so too many times now for you to discount it or try and find a work around. And when he moves on, and he finds some other girl, like Yasmin, or even Victoria, who doesn’t push him away, or make his life hard, or knows how to express her feelings without saying or doing the wrong thing, he’ll have no use for you.

His brothers will like her, and he’ll show her off to his teammates, and their relationship will expand beyond a phone screen and the distant, foggy memory of something more. And it will be easy.

And he deserves that.

He deserves so much more than you’ve ever been able to give him. Maybe if you saw that sooner this whole thing wouldn’t be such a mess. Maybe if you’d been more accepting of your blossoming feelings in the summer, and you hadn’t been so insistent on maintaining control, everything wouldn’t have spiralled so far out of reach.

Ellie might have seen your interest, Cole might have turned his attentions elsewhere, and Luke would never have said those things about you to try and deter him. And then these last few months would have been easier, too. Your walls would have long been knocked down, your defences weakened, and you’d have just let him in like you’ve always wanted to.

And Luke wouldn’t have gotten tired of trying, just like you predicted all those months ago.

“I think your brother was right, the other day, about the movie, and people being hard work. I want you be happy, Luke, and you said it yourself, I can’t make you wait around for me to figure shit out, you have enough going on without me making you feel like this.”

You feel a shift when you look at him again, a slump of his shoulders as he leans back into the booth - something like resigned acceptance - and you can’t help but be reminded of the exchange that started this whole ordeal.

Him on the other side of a booth in the restaurant at the country club, a hopeful gleam in his earthy irises and his chest puffed out in what you remember thinking seemed like a facade of arrogance, with something much gentler beneath the surface. Things had been much lighter then. Playful and easy. And you don’t think it’s been like that for a long time.

You did that, you think.

You sank into the dark, murky waters of your own insecurities and you dragged him straight down with you - and now it’s time to set him free.

The silence that follows your words is awkward, maybe for the first time ever with him, in a way that makes your skin itch with a prickly heat. You had been so intent on speaking to him, before, and now all you want to do is leave so that he can’t stretch this out, or leave so you don’t have to sit here and watch him not even try. You want to run. Scream. Cry, even. Do anything but wait around for him to agree.

“I’m sorry,” comes out croaky, and broken, and you blink out the tears that blur your vision, feeling them run their course the whole way down your cheeks until you swipe them away from your jaw.

“Me too.”

You want to tell him he doesn’t have anything to apologise for. You want to tell him that you’re the problem, and that you shouldn’t have led him on for as long as you did - but you don’t really want to keep going in circles with this conversation.

You just want to go.

And you couldn’t be more thankful when Ethan comes back, oblivious to the tension between you and his best friend, pushing another bottle across the table and sliding into the opposite side of the booth, right next to Luke.

“So, Lukey, are you gonna let us in on all your favourite spots around here for when we’re both back in the fall?” He slings an arm over the back of the booth, falling naturally above Luke’s slumped figure, and you straighten up in your own seat.

“I’m gonna go find Ellie,” you say, shuffling out from your own side, smiling meekly when Ethan frowns at you, not even daring to look Luke’s way. “I’ll leave you two to it.”

And then you walk away, because that’s all that’s left to do - and when you find Ellie, she takes one look at you, and she knows.

Eyes welling with tears, lips trembling - a mirror image of the girl she found back in your shared room that afternoon of her party, back in the summer - and she ushers you out of the bar and holds your hand the whole way back to your rental, your head on her shoulder as you try not to sob in the back of a taxi.

For all the times people in his life have called him an idiot, Luke has never felt as stupid as he feels right now.

Watching your teary eyes from across the table, able to do nothing but stare back at them, speechless and spineless as you finally throw in the towel, as you finally admit what you’ve been holding back this entire time.

That you can’t move past what happened in summer.

That this whole time, you’ve been trying to distract yourself from how much he hurt you, how much he fucked up, and all he’s ended up doing is hurting you again.

I feel like it’s always in the back of my mind when I’m with you, you had said, like I can’t let it go.

Like he can never take back all the stupid shit he said to Cole when he was jealous and immature - like he still can’t handle those sort of emotions when he’s around you, and he lashes out when you don’t even deserve it, all because he can’t handle seeing you with anybody else.

He doesn’t even know why he came at you so quick.

All he remembers is seeing a photo on an instagram story of the guys at the bar, of seeing you and Ellie crouched in the front, carefree, giant grins etched into your faces, and all of a sudden he was walking in.

And you were smiling so sweet, your nose scrunching up and your body shaking with laughter as you sat beside Ethan, absolutely no space between you in the booth, and he had felt something ugly consume him before he even had a chance to realise what was happening.

And now you’re gone, and his heart is pounding in his chest, and the sound of your soft voice uttering one final apology is echoing around his head.

“Are you okay?” Ethan asks from beside him, leaning forward until he appears out the corner of his eye, and Luke shakes himself out of the trance you put him under.

He mutters your name, and Ethan’s head tilts in confusion until Luke asks, “Are you into her?”

“Into her?” Ethan’s eyes widen in alarm as he almost chokes on a sip of his beer. “Why would you ask me that?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugs, a pathetic attempt at nonchalance that he can tell doesn’t land as soon as he does it, “You looked close when I came in, and she said you went to the movies together the other week. Got food after, sounded like a date to me.”

“Interesting observation,” he scoffs, “Considering all you two do together is watch movies and eat.”

Luke frowns, especially when he looks over properly, and Ethan is smirking at him. He feels like he could throw up. “She’s my friend,” he says, although he supposes that’s not really true, anymore, but he’s sick of having to explain it to everybody. “I’ve told you like a million times.”

“Mine too,” he snickers, and Luke can feel his blood start to boil a little at the implication that your relationship with Ethan might at all be similar to your relationship with him. “She’s a cool girl.”

“Yeah,” Luke agrees, a nauseating sense of deja vu washing over him, soaking him to the bone in remorse.

She’s a really cool girl, Cole had said, back toward the end of summer, really funny.

He feels the same swirls of panic stirring in his chest, a stutter to his heart rate that has him holding his breath to try and correct it, somehow.

“We’ve just been hanging out a little more the last few weeks, ever since I took her home,” and the mention of that night back in Michigan makes him feel worse - that swirling feeling evolving into something sinister, catastrophic, even. He’d upset you and you’d turned to Ethan for comfort - you’ve continued to turn to him, since. And Luke had really left you no choice but to do so, so upset at the thought of the two of you together that he shut you out, entirely. “I guess we got closer throughout this year, but it’s mostly been in a group, like at parties or whatever. She’s a lot different to how I thought she’d be, especially when it’s just her, we get along.”

“Yeah,” Luke breathes, monotonous and slow, because he can’t really muster much else.

He could probably cry, if he thinks too hard about it. Could probably break out in a sweat and hyperventilate, and all that’s stopping him is the nails digging into his palm to keep him grounded to reality.

He had you, he thinks, back on that porch outside the hockey house, and he let his own fragile ego get in the way, once again. Just like back in the summer, when he had you, and let this panic and jealousy consume him, turn him into something ugly and cruel, saying things he never meant, or never had any right to divulge.

“I think uhh,” his jaw feels tense as he speaks, like something in him doesn’t want to carry on, but he fights past it, “I think a lot of people have the wrong idea about her.”

“How do you mean?”

“People judge her based on what they think she’s like, but they don’t really get to know her.” He relaxes back into his seat, a little, trying to alleviate the growing tension in his spine. “I’d say she doesn’t really let them, but people don’t try hard enough. It’s like you said, she’s really cool.”

“Funny, too.” Ethan smiles a little, and the look in his eyes brings the essence of tears to Luke’s, almost.

“Really funny,” he agrees, pushing through the way his throat feels like it’s closing up, lips twisting up into some attempt at a smile. “Really quick, not even just telling jokes but like, she can just read every situation as it’s happening. I don’t think I’ve ever had a conversation where she hasn’t made me laugh, even if she’s trying to bite my head off or something or I’m not really in the mood to be laughing.”

Ethan nods along, like he could possibly understand what Luke means - but maybe he can, Luke worries. Maybe that’s what you’ve opened his eyes to, while the two of you have been growing closer this year with him being none-the-wiser to your budding relationship.

“And sure, she’s snappy, but she’s like,” he pauses, a breathy chuckle as he fights the swelling of his chest, now, too, “the most caring person I’ve ever met. You feel it, too, even when she is biting your head off or whatever, she’s doing it because she thinks it’s just as much fun for you as it is for her, and she just wants to keep you hooked. And sure, it takes a while for her to warm up, but when she does it’s like, I don’t even know, man, like her smile,” another pause, and Luke smiles a little more, himself, the upturn of his lips coming so naturally that he can’t tell he’s doing it until his field of vision narrows a little, “She has this smile that’s all slow and cute, and I swear it could thaw ice or something corny like that.”

“She’s got a cute smile,” Ethan agrees, but the way he’s looking at Luke makes him feel a little too seen, and so he straightens back up in his seat before he can sink any further. “Not sure it’s worth losing one of my closest friends over, though.”

“You wouldn’t,” Luke gulps, trying to swallow past the growing lump in his throat at the mere thought of you and Ethan together, a feeling that’s achingly reminiscent of how he felt about you and Cole - sick to his stomach. But this had been the problem before - thinking he has any sort of say over how you move forward with anyone that isn’t him. “I just want her to be happy, I know you’d look after her.”

He’d told you to move on. He’d told you he couldn’t wait around for you to figure things out. He’d shut you out, forced you to close yourself off to him, accused you of only wanting him when you think you’re losing him to someone else - and here he is, falling apart from the inside out, once again, at the mere thought of you with anybody else.

He’s a hypocrite, and he hates himself for it - he’s going to lose you because of it. Maybe he already has.

“You’re an idiot,” Ethan scoffs, mouth curving up at one side in amusement. “You’re seriously gonna sit there and say you want me to ask her out? You want me to date the girl you’re very clearly in love with because at least I’d look after her?”

“C’mon, E-,”

“Like she needs looking after?” Ethan’s dark eyes narrow as he levels Luke with an incredulous glare. “You know if she heard you, she’d beat your ass, right? Trying to auction her off like some sort of prize, are you insane? I swear to God, the two of you are borderline painful, you’re as bad as each other.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I honestly thought you were both just being oblivious, or something, but it’s like you’re actively trying to sabotage yourselves, you need to talk to each other, you need to tell each other how you feel.”

“I know that you slept with her,” Luke blurts out, eyes wide as Ethan’s face curls up in horror, “I saw you come out of the house with her the morning after the party,”

“Whoa-,”

“And it’s fine. Not that either of you need my permission,” Luke scoffs, “But I’m not blind, E, she was with you the night Jack got injured, too, she was smiling at you tonight like she hasn’t smiled at me in forever, I just want her to be happy, and if that’s not with me-,”

“I slept with Megan,” Ethan interrupts, “The night of that party, I dropped her off like you asked, I went back to the house, and I hit up Megan because we were hooking up for a while before she got all crazy on me. You remember her, right? The girl with the tattoo of her cat?”

“You were hooking up with a girl who had a tattoo of her cat?” Luke frowns, distracted momentarily until he realises what’s happening.

“She’s in the same sorority,” Ethan scoffs, “What you saw was her sneaking me out of the house because I got stuck upstairs and Megan wouldn’t help me.”

“But the movie, and the pinball,” Luke fades a little, brows furrowing as he tries to piece together whatever the hell he’s managed to fabricate between you and Ethen this entire time - weeks of avoiding you for nothing.

“We just bumped into each other at the IMAX, she seemed a little down, so we hung out after. Like friends do. Like you’d probably know, if you talked to her. You really thought that either of us would do that to you? That girl is crazy about you, Luke, she pretty much cried the whole walk home because you didn’t tell her you liked her.”

“She what?”

“Kept asking me if you’d said anything about being into anyone, she was being all cryptic and weird, I tried to imply you were into her, but clearly it didn’t help.”

“No, no, no,” he shakes his head, muttering repeatedly as he remembers that night, remembers what Quinn had tried to tell him, remembers everything from the past 6 months, all at once. He runs two shaky hands through his hair, trying to squeeze at his skull to stop the influx of regret that’s starting to vibrate in there, incessant and relentless, like it will never go away. “I need to go after her.”

Luke pushes gently at his best friend, frowning when he doesn’t budge.

“E, I need to apologise to her, I need to talk to her,”

“Tomorrow.” Ethan advises, “Her and Ellie knocked back like a whole margarita pitcher together, you don’t want to do this when she isn’t in the right state of mind.”

Wrong.

He wants to do it as soon as he physically can.

And he’ll do it on the hour every hour until you’re sober, he thinks.

“Trust me,” Ethan pats at Luke’s leg, a brotherly gesture that does little to calm his nerves. “Take tonight to think about what you want to say, and say it tomorrow.”

Luke hates that he’s right - just like Quinn had been right all those weeks ago.

He can’t do this out of impulse.

He needs to do it right.

When Ellie knocks on your bedroom door the next morning, she’s merely a fuzzy blur through your puffy eyes, and you can barely muster a smile as she walks in with a cup of green tea and a slice of toast for you.

“Thanks, El,” you croak, voice thick with sleep, and maybe dry from the salty rim of the many cups you drank from last night - or the way you cried for maybe an hour until you eventually drifted off.

Ellie had been your literal shoulder to cry on when you got home, letting you sob and finally release months worth of pent-up frustrations as she listened, taking it all in while she stroked a gentle hand through your hair.

You told her everything - about halloween, and christmas, watching movies over FaceTime and spiralling over them alone in your room after he hung up. You told her about texts that made your knees go weak, and calls that lasted until the early hours of the morning, and sleeping in Luke’s arms when you finally saw him in person. You told her about the gifts, and opening up to Luke about your family, and kissing him on the porch back at the hockey house.

Then you told her about the aftermath. About distancing yourself from him to let him move on, about him distancing himself from you because you’re too much of a mess for him to make sense of, and then about that conversation in the bar - about finally letting him go.

She just let you air it all out until it exhausted you - tucked you into your bed where you sobbed into your pillow for a little longer, and promised to talk more in the morning.

And you suppose that’s what this is - breakfast in bed, a soft smile sent your way as she lowers the tray onto the sheets in front of you, muttering a short, you’re welcome, as she perches herself on the end of the bed.

The two of you make a little small talk as she watches you eat, concern in her eyes and hesitance in her posture, and you figure you must have freaked her out a little too much last night - probably still freaking her out, now your face still swollen from all the crying.

“I’m sorry about last night, El,” you sigh once you’ve swallowed your last bite of toast, pushing the plate away. “I feel like such an idiot, you get a free pass to say I told you so, or whatever.”

“I wouldn’t do that,” her lips twist, unsure and uncomfortable, as she shuffles against the footboard. “It wouldn’t be right after what I did.”

“What you did?” You frown, “What do you mean?”

“Please don’t be mad at me,” Ellie shrinks away a little, face scrunching in anticipation of some poor reaction, and all you can hear is the persistent thudding of your heartbeat - still reeling from last night, a little. “I was just trying to help.”

“Help with what?” You blink slow as you watch her, eyes drawn to the way her lips twist and turn, tugged between her teeth as she tries to work through whatever it is she wants to tell you.

“It was sort of Jack’s idea, initially,” she starts, “I mean, I guess I took it a little too far, but he’s the one who brought it up-,”

“Ellie-,” you warn, the anticipation of it all only making things worse.

“He thought if the two of you felt like you were losing each other to somebody else, you’d realise you actually wanted to be together, and you’d stop forcing the whole friend thing and make the next move.”

“I don’t understand-,”

“He said he tried doing the same thing last summer, when he was being an idiot about asking me out. He took some girl from the club on a date, picked someone that he knew you’d find out about, but I guess you never did, ‘cause you’d have told me about it and I’d still have a dent in my head from where it would have hit the roof.” The nervous chuckle she gives does very little to lighten the mood.

“Right,” you nod along, muttering out the affirmation despite the fact that you’d done the complete opposite.

You never told her about Jack and Jessica, the girl from the club last summer - who you and Luke had spied on in the earlier days of your scheming. It was for her own good, though. You didn’t want to hurt her over something that clearly wasn’t worth her time. Jack was being an idiot, that much was obvious at the time - even without the context you now have that he was trying to get caught - and so you feel less bad about lying about the whole thing.

Although, your eye starts to twitch a little at just how ridiculous this whole thing has started to become.

“So he pushed Luke to date this Yasmin girl for the same reason?”

“Not exactly,” Ellie winces, “I think he tried to get him out of the house one time just to test the waters, but nothing ever came of it. And then Jack got busy with the tournament, and Luke came out to Michigan, and I felt like I had to take the reins a little.”

“Take the reins on what?”

Your tone must unintentionally reflect just how tired you are of this whole thing, because Ellie cowers a little, eyes glassy as she skirts around what it is that she wants to say.

“I need you to understand that I felt really bad about the whole Cole thing, okay?” She says, “And then ever since summer, you haven’t really been yourself, you know? Like you don’t wanna come out anymore, and you’re letting school get to you, and you don’t talk to me about stuff, even when I know that it’s bothering you,”

You look down, your own lips pressing together to try and ease the tension elsewhere in your jaw.

You have been a little more reserved, but it’s not entirely because of how your summer ended. And it’s not like you weren’t coping, entirely - you just weren’t running to Ellie like you normally might have.

Maybe it was unintentional, the way you had shut her out, even since the start of summer, but that doesn’t mean it would have affected her any less. Guilt starts to nip away at you from the inside out, her meek response heightened when you lifted your gaze back to watch her.

“And I just thought maybe you needed someone to look out for you, to give you a little nudge in the right direction, I didn’t realise it would have made things worse.”

A nudge - just like the kind of nudge you and Luke were supposed to be giving her and Jack last year.

You’re starting to get a headache with it all, the way you seem to have come full circle in the worst possible way - where the universe throws you Ellie and Jack of all people to try and gain some semblance of order to your life.

It’s tragic.

“What are you even saying?”

“There is no Yasmin,” she blurts out, “I made her up.”

You blink slow, feeling as your face slowly contorts with confusion - lips turning down, brows scrunching together, little creases forming in the side of your nose. “No,” you mumble, shaking your head as she stares, wide-eyed and panicked, back at you. “I saw her instagram. He liked her pictures.”

“I’d imagine that was just some random girl he follows,” she shakes her head with a grimace, “Dumbass likes every post he sees on his feed, I think.”

You gape back at her, your eyes widened in shock and your heart racing in your chest, because what the fuck?

You’ve been pushing him away this whole time to move onto a girl who doesn’t even exist?

“And I know I should have told you sooner, but I got swept up with all of the Jack stuff, and I,” her lips tremble as she stares back at you, apologetic and regretful. “I didn’t realise how bad it got between the two of you. I didn’t know it would end up like this, I was just trying to make things better again.”

You stare down at the empty plate at the bottom of your bed, and all of a sudden you can feel every swallowed bite swirling around in the pit of your stomach. “I feel sick.” You slur out, pushing yourself up off the bed and stumbling towards the bathroom, slamming the door behind you as you fall down against it, and you can hear the soft patter of feet as Ellie follows behind.

“I’m sorry,” she cries through the wood, “I know that I should have known better than to interfere, but I just-,” she hiccups then, and you resent just how much it affects you, guilt and shame swirling around with the nausea. “I wanted my best friend back. You haven’t been the same since summer.”

And you sob, yourself, because you know that’s true.

You’d admitted it to Luke, last night, when you had told him you didn’t think you could ever get over it.

And now you’ve lost him.

You can’t even blame Ellie, either.

She had planted the seed, but you’d been the one to water it - constantly avoiding having to have a difficult conversation with him until everything boiled over, until it was too late.

You could have talked to him at the party, the night you kissed him. You could have told him there and then that you loved him, because you knew it as sure as anything, but you didn’t. You could have told him at any point since then, and you never did. Because you were scared, and insecure, and weak.

Ellie calls your name from inches behind you, soft and shaky, and the thought of ruining everything with her too is too much for you to handle.

You need to get out of the bathroom, need to get out of the house, need to get away period.

You just need space, and you know exactly where you’re going to find it.

Luke has never been more thankful for a day off in his life.

And he’s never been more proactive in one, either.

One of the biggest joys usually comes from turning off his alarm the night before. No morning skate, no practice, no training, no meetings, no game to prep for.

There’s just you, across town, thinking he doesn’t care enough about you to stop you giving everything the two of you have up.

So his alarm had stayed on, shrilling beside his head at 7am, and he shoots right out of bed, not even putting it on snooze for four times before he gets himself up.

He makes breakfast, eggs and avocados on toast, brain food as his mom might say, and starts to think about what he’s going to say to you - making notes on his phone like it’s some dumb presentation - until he feels satisfied that there’s enough of his heart in it to actually make an impact.

He’s done letting his emotions control him.

The two of you are going to figure this out, and it’s going to work out - he’s sure of it. He has to be.

And just as he’s about to leave, Jack appears from his room, also dressed and ready to face the day, quirking his brow at the abnormal pep in his little brother’s step.

“What the hell’s got you so jumpy this early in the morning?” He asks.

“If I tell you, I don’t want to hear a lecture about it.” Luke huffs, because this is the last parade he would ever let his brother rain on, and he’s kind of worked himself up to the point of delusion. Jack just nods in response, and Luke can’t help the giddy smile that breaks out right before he says, “I gotta go see about a girl.”

Jack’s eyes widen, and Luke feels like he’s been punched in the gut when his lips quirk up, preparing himself for the blow of being laughed at by his own brother.

But what Jack says, instead, is even weirder.

“Let’s go then.”

And Luke practically stumbles over himself to get the two of them to his car, the weight of his brother’s approval pushing him further than he ever wanted to admit that it could, his entire body buzzing as he drives them over to the rental you and Ellie are staying in, and he tells Jack about his plan on the way.

He tells him how he’s gonna get you out of the house, gonna take you on a walk, somewhere, where the two of you can finally talk things out, and he’s gonna tell you how he feels. He’s gonna let you speak, gonna give you the time you need to figure things out - he’s gonna lay his heart on the line, and he’s gonna be a man and let you decide whatever it is you want to do with it.

You say you can’t get over the summer, but you don’t understand how much he regrets it, how much he loves you, how he’d never hurt you like that again. And if you turn around, and you don’t feel the same, then he can do whatever you want, but at least he’ll know he tried - at least you’ll know what you mean to him.

Jack gives him pointers, like he’s ever gonna take love advice from a guy who took like 3 years to ask his girlfriend out, but Luke just nods along with a smile on his face, too in his head with the hope that this could finally be it.

And that hope carries him all the way from one side of Jersey City to the other, airy and light, until he’s knocking on your door and waiting for you to finally open up for him - and all of it drains from him the second he sees Ellie’s teary fave on the other side. He’s too confused by the situation to notice when Jack brushes past him to comfort her, and he finds himself looking around for you again, that light, airy feeling growing heavier by the second.

“Calm down,” he hears Jack coo, “It’s alright, what happened?”

“We got into a fight,” she sniffles, “Or I don’t know, a disagreement, I guess. I was gonna give her a little room to breathe, so I went to my room, and then she left, and she’s not picking up her phone.”

Luke feels the colour drain from his face, a dizzying wash of panic flooding his system that causes his chest to swell. He reaches for his phone before he even realises what he’s doing, fingers knowing the way straight to your contact and pressing on it within seconds, the call reaching voicemail before he even lifts the device to his ear.

“It must be off,” he frowns, the swelling worsening with every second that passes. “She just left? She didn’t say where she was going?”

“She was pretty upset,” Ellie tells him, tears welling in her eyes as her face twists with guilt, “I really, uhm,” she runs a hand through her hair as she turns away from him, taking a few pacing steps to distance herself, “I really fucked things up, I think.”

“Fucked what up?” Luke asks, following by instinct to close the gap, trying to get her to look at him just to get a read on the severity of the situation. He’s witnessed a couple of your arguments with Ellie - mostly minor irritations that you come to him to talk you through, and it’s never been bad enough for you to get seriously upset over it. Not like this. And Luke has known Ellie for a long time, too - had seen all the ups and downs of her relationship with Jack before they ever got together. He’s never seen her like this, and dread pools in the pit of his stomach. “What happened?”

“I uh,” she takes in a trembling breath, staggered and shaky and doing little to make him feel any better as he hears it. “I thought I was helping. I thought she just needed a push, or something, like someone to guide her-,”

Luke can’t imagine a world where you would need guidance on anything. Headstrong and self-assured, he can’t picture what on Earth would make Ellie assume you would need her to push you.

“I swear, I thought I was doing the right thing. I wouldn’t have gotten involved, especially after summer, you know, I felt really bad, and I just wanted to try and fix it somehow, but she never tells me anything, so I didn’t realise she was kind of getting there on her own and I think I just made everything worse.”

The mention of summer makes him wince, Ellie’s words all merging together into one long, confusing blur of excuses that don’t quite make sense, but this has to be about him, somehow, he thinks - because you would have told him about anything else happening in your life, something else that might have happened in the summer.

Ellie felt bad about the whole Cole thing - that much seems obvious. Lending her efforts to him asking you out, being the catalyst to the whole thing blowing apart from the inside, out. But how could she ever possibly fix that? Especially considering he was the master of his own downfall, in the end.

“What did you do?”

When Ellie’s eyes meet his, they’re flooded with remorse, round and watery and it does little to quell the panic continuing to rise within him.

“I told her you were seeing somebody else.”

Luke feels time stop, his heart coming to a screeching halt, and all thoughts wiped from his brain until all he can hear is your voice, soft and small and vulnerable as you tell him, “I don’t want to watch you move on.”

“I just thought she needed a wake up call, or something, like if she thought that there was the potential that you were moving on she might have finally realised that holding back this whole time was doing more harm than good, but I don’t know what happened, she just shut down, after-,”

“After what?” Luke asks, although he doesn’t know why, he’s pretty sure he knows the answer to both questions he poses Ellie’s way. “When did you tell her that?”

“Before the party back in Michigan,” she gulps, “Before you left.”

Luke stumbles back a little, hands finding purchase on the back of the couch, needing something to steady him, to ground him before he spirals out of control.

“Jack told me that he’d been trying to get you to move on, that he took you out with the guys, that you were just flat out rejecting the idea of even speaking to somebody else, and I just thought-,”

“You knew about this?”

“No,” Ellie is quick to defend him, quick to take responsibility, for once, “Well, sort of, but he told me not to do it, and I didn’t tell him that I did, so he’s not to blame, here. I thought if I just said that you were moving on then she wouldn’t have believed me, so I made somebody up, but I guess you’re following some girl with the same name on instagram, and you liked a couple of her pictures, and last night she kept saying that you don’t want her anymore, that all she can think about is how much she loved you back then, but you don’t feel the same,”

I’m having a hard time moving past what happened last summer, I think

He thought you meant the Cole thing. He thought you meant you couldn’t look past his mistake.

I feel like it’s always in the back of my mind when I’m with you, like I can’t let it go.

You weren’t talking about the bad stuff.

You were talking about the rest of it.

And now all Luke can hear in his head is little snippets of conversations from the past few weeks. I want to, which he now sees as an admission of your feelings when he had asked you to let him in. Are you moving on? After he had turned you down for that art installation, wedging an insurmountable gap between the two of you while you assumed he was seeing some other girl. He’s hard work and she isn’t cut out for it, and the way you so quickly gave up when it came to Jack’s stupid outburst.

All of that had been with idea of him already having moved on.

All of that, and you still refused to do so, yourself.

Oh no.

“I was just trying to help, Luke, I swear, I just wanted to help her. She just lets things pass her all the time, for as long as I’ve known her, she gets all in her head, and she doesn’t let people in, and she was doing the same with you, and I just wanted her to take something for herself, I wanted her to win, I didn’t realise it would become this huge mess-,”

“Stop,” he huffs, because he can’t let her blame herself, not entirely - he made a mess of this, too. He’d jumped to conclusions, after the kiss. He hadn’t let you speak, hadn’t let you come to terms with what you were feeling. He’d misunderstood your intentions and jumped down your throat, and let his own hurt in the situation stomp all over yours. He hadn’t talked to you, despite all the times he had been urged to.

“Where would she go?” He asks, trying to shake himself into action. “Does she have any other friends around here, did she mention anywhere to you that she might escape to?”

“No,” Ellie whines, “She only came here for the first time in October, the only places we mentioned were lunch spots, I don’t think she ran off in tears for a bagel. The only person I could think of was you, but you’re here.”

Luke wracks his brain through the last few conversations the two of you had - and all he hears is the multiple opportunities he had to clear everything up. The multiple attempts you made to bring things back to normal - to bridge the gap he had forced between the two of you.

Movie nights, coffee shops, the game the other night, the art installation.

The art installation.

“Did she bring her laptop?”

You can’t really pinpoint where your obsession with space started.

It’s probably somewhere between laying awake at night, staring at the glow-in-the-dark stars your dad had stuck to your ceiling, and a field trip to the Henry Crown Space Center - and the two memories are probably a lot more linked than you care to think about, both providing distractions when you needed them the most in life, but you’ve never experienced anything like this.

You’d found out about this exhibit on TikTok of all places, putting the you in for you page to work when you first started seeing it on your feed, saving every video that came up. Destination Cosmos originated in Amsterdam from what you could find, and you’ve wanted to go for years. It feels like fate, almost, that it would be in New York for one week only while you’re just across the river for spring break, and missing out on it would have been your biggest regret since coming out here - which considering the events you’re actively trying to escape from, is probably saying a lot.

Maybe if you’d have sold it a little better to Luke than just being an art installation, he might have come with you. Maybe if you’d done a lot of things differently, he might have come with you.

As you stand in the centre of the universe, projections of everything you’ve spent your whole life admiring only from afar, chasing something you still don’t understand, you feel smaller than you’ve ever felt in your life.

It’s overwhelming, almost, how lost you feel now.

On your own, in the middle of an exhibit you’ve been dreaming about for years, in a city you don’t really know, but are going to be moving to before you know it, with all other aspects of your life imploding in calamitous fashion around you. The way the images flash across the walls - stars, planets, nebulae, supernovae - make you feel like you barely even exist, and you hate it.

You’ve never felt so alone, so afraid of what comes next, and all you want is for someone to reach out and shake you until you don’t feel it anymore.

And when somebody actually does, when the soft but familiar mutter of your name brings you out of your reverie, and a gentle grip forms around your wrist, you gasp, yanking your hand away like the touch burns.

You have to be dreaming, you think.

There’s no way you haven’t slipped into some sort of coma, or something.

Maybe you missed a low ceiling somewhere on your way into the exhibit, hit your head and knocked yourself out.

Because there’s no other explanation for how Luke Hughes could possibly be standing before you, in front of the most beautiful backdrop of glistening constellations, other than you imagining the whole thing.

“What are you doing here?” You ask, taking in his frantic form - chest heaving with rushed breaths and his baseball cap askew, probably from where he keeps taking it off to run his hands through his hair.

“I uh-,” he pants, blinking slow as if you’re just about coming into focus. “I came to see about a girl.”

You blink back, brows pushing together as he takes another step, “What?”

“Good Will Hunting,” he clarifies, “Declarations of love, I know you hate them but I uhm-,” he frowns, cringes, even, like he’s thinking better of doing this already, and you wait with bated breath for him to string his thoughts together. “I’m doing this wrong, I think.”

“Luke-,”

“I was trying to think the whole way here of some sort of speech, like one giant combination of all the soppy, cheesy movie quotes you love so much. Y’know, like, uhh,” his bottom lip juts out as he takes a second, and all you can do is watch, “Like a megamix or something.”

“A megamix?”

“Yeah, like a little How To Lose A Guy In 10 Days, a pinch of Notting Hill, just this huge shit show of the corniest garbage you’ve ever heard in your life.”

“Sounds great.” You frown, a little lost on how he went from declarations of love to corny garbage in a matter of seconds.

“Probably would be,” he nods as he takes another step, and you fight the urge to retreat, your feet staying firmly in place and your arms wrapping around yourself in some twisted protective stance. “But all I can think about is that one scene in When Harry Met Sally, y’know, when she’s all frizzy and crying on her bed, and he’s there to comfort her?”

“I don’t really remember,” you mutter, although you have a vague recollection. “I only watched it that one time and I was a little distracted.”

“I watched it 8 times.” He tells you, “Could probably talk you through the whole thing.”

“You don’t have to-,”

“So Sally’s just found out her ex is engaged,” he starts, anyway, and you don’t even have time to question why the hell he watched that movie 8 times. Once was enough to scar you for life. “And she’s like sobbing to Harry, and saying all these things about how she was just a transitional person, and she thinks something’s the matter with her, ‘cause her ex never wanted to marry her.”

“Where are you going with this?”

“She says, I’m difficult,” he mimics her voice, somewhat, a soft smile curving at his lips as he recalls the scene, “And Harry tells her, you’re challenging, and every time I watch it, I think of you.”

Ouch.

He must see the way your face drops, because he takes another step, and the distance between the two of you is so small now that you could conceivably touch without reaching - if he stopped making out like you’re a problem, that is.

“‘Cause that’s when they kiss, right?” He asks, and you nod, hesitantly, because you sort of remember it a little better, now. “That’s when he realises how deep he’s into this thing with her, and how right he was that they could never be friends.”

“I guess so,” you pout, your chest clenching at the mere mention of your friendship - the one you had denounced only a day ago, and are still very freshly mourning the loss of.

“And then I think about the other night, about what Jack said.”

You’ve already gone through this whole thing with Jack, you really don’t want to do it, again. Not here, not now, especially. “Luke-,”

“He shouldn’t have said any of that stuff to you, and he was being a world class dick, but he was sort of right,” he tells you, a crooked smile cementing itself into his features as he reaches out to tuck your hair behind your ear as it falls forward, leaving you to watch in confused silence as amusement flashes across his irises, despite the fact that it’s not remotely funny. “You are hard work.”

“Did you seriously come all the way out here and hunt me down just to tell me that?” You scoff, something within you switching as you unfold your arms and reach up to push his hand away. “That all I do is make your life hard, you don’t think I already know that?”

He grabs yours, instead, intertwining your fingers despite your resistance, and smiling even deeper. “When did I ever say I want things to be easy?” He challenges, his other hand rising to the opposite side of your face, cupping at your jaw and lifting your face until your eyes meet, “I love that you’re hard work.” And just as you scoff, just as you try to argue such a ridiculous statement, he continues. “It makes being with you and you letting me in all the more rewarding, like I earned it. I’d like to think that I did, too. I’d like to think we’ve come really far from where we started.”

You gulp down the urge to tell him you agree, still a little confused by this whole speech, where one second he’s comparing you to a sobbing emotional wreck, and the next he’s suggesting you’re sort of a nightmare. Still confused by how he found you in the first place, but it feels too late to ask, now.

“Ellie told me about Yasmin,” he says, and you swear the way your heart skips a beat is wishful thinking, your mind praying that the ground will just swallow you up. You were embarrassed enough without him knowing about it, too - that you got all in your feelings about some girl that never even existed, enough to end up ruining everything with him over what turned out to be nothing. “And Ethan told me about Michigan, about how you were upset that I didn’t tell you how I felt.”

What? You’d been upset he hadn’t told you about Yasmin, who you now know doesn’t exist, not-

Oh, Jesus Christ, you think, too embarrassed to even react. Ethan had been talking about you.

Anybody could see from a mile off that he is into somebody.

“It doesn’t even matter-,”

“Don’t do that,” he pleads, desperation flashing across his eyes, stunning you a little into submission. “Please don’t do that, not about this.”

“Luke-,”

“I love you.” He says, voice sure and steady, a little louder than he’d been speaking before but you can’t really find it in yourself to care. “I’m in love with you. I don’t think I’ll ever not be in love with you. And there’s no Yasmin, there’s no Victoria, there is nobody else and there never will be. That’s what I came all the way out here to say.”

That’s a little better than whatever the hell he was saying about a megamix, you think.

“That there’s only you.” He’s still sure, but quieter now, like a whisper that’s only meant for you to hear. “That I love you, and it matters.”

He’s giving you this heated look, like he can see every single cell of you - like he loves every single cell of you - eyes dark and intense, and you can’t look away, too entranced by whatever hold he now has over you - barely able to even form a cognitive thought, let alone voice one.

“I love that you’re weirdly nerdy about space,” he maintains a hold on your cheek, his touch soft but his presence solid, and uses his other hand to gesture around you, to the spectacle around you - to the vibrant projections of planets on walls that seem to extend light years right around of the two of you. “And that of all the places in New York you’d even want to go during your last spring break, this was the only place on your list. And despite that, somehow I’m the dorky loser out of the two of us.”

You feel your lips quirk up, still gazing up into his eyes, your own wide and watering as you watch him continue.

“I love that you never mind spending time with me, even if it’s just watching movies, or watching hockey, or eating, and you always know what food I like, even though you complain that I eat more than any human should. I love that I never feel too much for you, or too little, or too loud, or like I’m not saying enough. You call me an idiot all the time, sure, but you never make me feel like one.”

Everything around you turns into a blur, now, beyond trying to blink away your tears as they slowly start to trickle from your lower lashes, Luke’s thumb coming to swipe at your lip when one settles there, offering a soft smile that makes your heart melt in place - this warm, sticky sensation spreading between your ribs.

“And I love the way you look at me,” his voice is so soft that it makes you feel boneless, and you think if he didn’t have a hold on your face you might just dissolve into nothing, “Sometimes I feel like you’re the only person who actually sees me.”

You love that about him too, you think - the first tangible thought you can muster as he does his best to turn you into complete mush in the palm of his hand.

“I love that you make the 600 miles between here and Michigan feel like nothing. Like I miss you all the time, but you always make it seem like you’re here, even when you’re not, as stupid as that sounds.”

It doesn’t sound stupid. Not at all. It’s crazy how much comfort Luke has given to you just through a phone screen for the past 5 months, like he’s been with you the whole time, all those worries about your relationship being too weak to withstand the distance that you had at the end of summer dissipating almost instantaneously.

“And I’m sorry I keep giving you reasons to think otherwise, but I’ve never felt this way about anybody before. I love you so much it makes me crazy, and it makes me do stupid things, and say shit that I don’t mean, but I mean this, I need you to know that, as insane as this whole thing is I’ll say it all again and louder if you need me to.”

Your heart is pounding against your ribcage, the trembling breaths you take to try and alleviate it providing very little relief, and Luke watches you with bated breath of his own, wincing a little in anticipation as he waits out some sort of response.

You reach up to the hand that rests on your cheek and peel it from your skin, fingers clasped around his palm and tugging it away carefully until you can bring it down. You step just a little closer - close enough that you’re looking up, close enough that you can place his hand against the rampant thudding in your chest, and hope that the proximity of him now helps calm you - helps build the kind of courage it takes to stand in front of the person you love and lay your heart on the line, like he just had.

“I love that your version of a declaration of love starts out as you calling it a corny garbage megamix,” you tell him, hesitant but hopeful, like you’re testing the waters, watching as his eyes start to well up too and relief wracks through him in a visible shudder. “And that you watch some movie 8 times on your own because it makes you think of me.”

He huffs out a breathy chuckle, the smile that takes over his face is unwavering and it spurs something courageous within you, fingers intertwining with those on his free hand and smiling straight back.

“I love that every text you send me is a triple text,” you snort, “Like you couldn’t possibly just type out a paragraph, you have to send me every single thought as it passes through your brain. Like I’m the first person you want to come to about anything and everything, it makes me feel like you value me, it makes me feel good. And I love that you make everything lighter, and easier, and you never let me sit in my feelings, or let anybody make me feel bad.” You think of all the times he has defended you - to Jack, to yourself, even. He’d been so sure of you getting into your graduate program, more than you had ever been, and the stress around the whole thing seemed to dissolve whenever he was around. He’d backed you up when Jack went on his weird tirade at movie night, and has apparently been doing so the whole time Jack’s tried to sabotage things between the two of you. “Even if you do agree that I’m hard work.” Your lips twist in amusement as he dips his head a little, but you understand what he meant - where he was going with what he said.

“I love that you make me second guess myself,” you tighten your hold on him a little, “And you make me think differently, think better. I don’t feel afraid or unsure when I’m with you, not about the real stuff.”

He tightens his hold, too, readjusts his fingers where you’re clutching at them until he can move your hands to your sides, pulling back until you’re touching, almost, chest to chest.

“And if you asked me a year ago if I ever thought I’d want the boy I love to hunt me down in a dorky space exhibit, I’d have probably curled up and died from embarrassment at the thought,” you snort, “But I wanted to be here because it reminded me of you. Because you call me a dork, but you never make me feel like one, either. And because I used to want to feel like nothing when I thought of this stuff, but now I know that I don’t want to feel small, or insignificant, or unimportant,” you’re so close now that your voice is like a soft hum, stretching up on your toes and untangling your fingers from his for them to find purchase on his chest, helping you balance better. “I want to feel like I matter, and you’re the one who taught me that I do.”

You break eye contact only to watch the slow roll of a tear down his cheek, one he doesn’t even bother to wipe away, not afraid to show just how much it means to him for you to say all of that stuff back.

“I love you, Luke,” you almost-whisper, but the lack of volume does little to lessen the meaning behind the words, and your eyes drift back up to meet his, “I’m sorry it took me so long to tell you.”

“Can’t believe you just outdid my own corny declaration of love.”

“Consider yourself megamixed.”

“Shut up,” he laughs, the sound rumbling all the way from the depths of his chest and into your lips as he presses his own into them, fingers curling around the back of your waist as he pulls your body flush to his, and you think you see the swirling stars even when you close your eyes, a bright burst of colour consuming your brain until it’s all that you feel.

You kiss him without a single care in the world, forgetting that you’re in the middle of an exhibit, and that people might see, or stare, or think that you’re crazy. You love him, and you’re done hiding just how much. He kisses you back the same, with intensity and intention, like he’s trying to cement all those wonderful words he said to you before into the core of your being.

When you pull apart, slow enough that you barely separate at all, you watch as he smiles, swollen lips curved all the way up, the slight flash of teeth, cheeks balling up and his eyes creasing in the corners, and you feel your face mirror his, your noses pressed together and your hands still clutching at the shirt on his chest.

“Y’know,” he breathes, a slight rasp to his voice, “I was kind of right about one other thing.”

“What’s that?” You ask, backing away to give the two of you the slightest bit of breathing room.

“This feels like the perfect place to take somebody on a date.”

Your smile deepens, somehow, big enough to ache a little, and when you rush and stumble out of sheer instinct to kiss him again, his hands are primed to catch you.

And they don’t let you go for the whole 90 minutes you spend exploring the exhibit, where the two of you learn all new things about the universe and everything beyond it, and for the first time in a long time - the first time maybe ever - you let yourself believe that everything is going to be okay from here on out.

School might be hard, but you’ve worked almost the whole way through it with an end in sight, and a you’re building a life for yourself that you’ve never been so excited to live.

Your parents might be shitty, and they might not show up when you need them, but you have other people who do.

You have Ellie, who, for all her faults, has always been there to fall back on. She lets you spend the summer with her, with all intentions to have you stay the whole time, even if the two of you ended up elsewhere, and lets you impose on the holidays - shares all her traditions and never makes you feel like you don’t belong there. She cares so much about you that she goes a little crazy, but you think you’d rather have it that way than not at all.

You have Ethan, and you have Quinn, who both refused to fall for everybody else’s misconceptions of you - who encouraged Luke to persist when you gave him a million reasons to give up, and who were both in your corner without you ever even knowing about it.

And you maybe even slightly have Jack, who was just trying to look out for his little brother, like he’s so used to doing in all other aspects of Luke’s life, and who was willing to admit he was wrong despite how much you know it pained him to do so.

Everything in your life leading up to now might have jaded you a little, might have skewed your perception on what it meant to be loved, but you have Luke, now, to clear it all up.

Luke, who is dorky, and unserious, and loud, and uncoordinated, and acts out of impulse sometimes in ways that hurt you, but cares about you too much to ever leave you behind. And that, yes, he’s someone who doesn’t leave, but he’s also someone who comes back - who keeps showing up for you despite you giving him a million reasons not to.

Luke, who persistently slips in through the cracks of your long-caged heart and cements himself a place so deep in there that you’ll never get him out - you won’t ever want to.

Luke, who you love, and who loves you back, and who tracks you down in the next state over with a bunch of ridiculous movie references and makes you regret ever telling him you were freaked out by declarations like that, because you’ve wasted far too much time now trying to convince yourself you were a cynic.

Luke, who told you all the way back at the beginning of summer exactly who he was - who he was always going to be, and you were just too stubborn to listen.

Luke, who is, and always has been, inevitable.

When spring turns to summer, you find yourself back where it all started, your eyes fluttering open at the familiar sound of tyres rolling across the gravel driveway of the lake house, sun beaming harsh enough through the windshield that you have to squint against it, and your heart hammering in your chest.

It’s been a few weeks since you last saw Luke - when he’d surprised you at your graduation, and had helped you box up all your stuff back at the sorority, and the anticipation of a promise he’d muttered into your lips on your last night together has been the only thing keeping you going while you were back in Chicago with your mom.

The whole summer, he had promised when he invited you to stay, and I’ll even be your chauffeur again.

The thought of coming back to the place you fell in love, with the boy you fell in love with, and getting to experience the beauty of it all through eyes that finally let you truly see it makes your heart do little somersaults in your chest - a feeling that’s only exacerbated when you climb out the car to see Luke sat on the stairs leading up to the front door, waiting for you.

You feel the weight of his crooked grin even from a short distance away, a warm, gooey sensation spreading throughout your entire body as you run straight for him, ditching Ellie to get out the car on her own time and leaping into his arms.

You press frantic kisses wherever you can reach, and he holds you up so that you don’t fall, your legs wrapping securely around him as his glorious laughter rings out into the air around the two of you - your lips against his cheek, and his jaw, and his forehead, his nose, his eyes, even, and finally his mouth, where he matches your enthusiasm like he’s been waiting the whole time to do so.

“You missed me, I take it.” He chuckles, lips moving against yours as the words fall between your lips, and you hum back, kissing him again as a response.

“Get a room, that’s disgusting,” you hear the bitter scoff of Jack as he brushes past the two of you and heads straight for Ellie.

“Don’t listen to him,” Luke mumbles as he carefully lowers you back down until your feet touch the ground, “I got us a room, I even put some things in there for you, do you wanna go see?“

“What about my bags?”

“Your bags can wait,” he smiles coyly as he grabs at your hand - tugging until you’re following him into the house, and up the stairs, a layout you could still follow with your eyes closed. The familiarity of it all makes your heart ache in the best way, a stupid, lovestruck grin taking over your face as he guides you towards his room - your room too, now, apparently, and holds the door open for you to walk in.

It’s pretty much exactly how you remember it, the big window looking out over the pool at the back, the lake in the distance, and a soft breeze causing the curtains to flutter gently.

There’s the bed in the centre of the room, where you slept for the first time beside him, the same navy sheets, and you bet they still have the same soft linen smell to them, the same detergent kept in the laundry room downstairs. There’s the dresser to the side, where he once kissed you so stupid you never thought you’d think straight again. And the en-suite, where you first taken things a little too far with him, not that you regret any of that now.

The summer you’d spent so long trying to squash down is here now, larger than life, impossible to suppress or forget. And the boy beside you is the same.

You can’t fight the smile as you turn to him, his eyes glinting back at you the same way they have ever since that day in the exhibit, a light in them that you don’t think will ever go out.

“What did you put in here for me?”

“Nothing, it was just an excuse to get you up here,” he chuckles, advancing on you before you even realise he’s doing it, hands sneaking around your waist until you’re pressed flush to his body, and he’s dipping his head to kiss you again. “But if you want to go shopping later, we can get you some stuff. Make it feel more like your room, too, add a feminine touch, or whatever.”

“A feminine touch?” You scoff, grabbing at his t-shirt and turning the two of you until you can push him down onto the bed. “You gonna let me paint the walls with rainbow sparkles?”

He scoffs, thighs tensing as you lower yourself onto them, straddling his hips and grabbing at his hands so that they can’t hold onto you like he wants. “If that’s what makes you happy,” he smiles up at you, dorky and adorable.

“I’m happy,” you tell him, leaning in and kissing him slow, and sweet, unable to help when your lips curve up where they are pressed to his. “I will put one feminine thing on the list, although I don’t know anywhere around here that might sell them.”

“What’s that?”

“Pink fuzzy handcuffs,” you smirk, leveraging your hold on his wrists to lift his arms and press them back down into the bed, heart racing at the way he looks up at you - like you’re the entire universe. “So I can tie my pretty boyfriend to our bed.”

And then you lean forward again, pressing the curve of your lips back to his, revelling in the way his laughter ripples out into your mouth - swallowing it down until it swirls like petals in the depths of your stomach, cinematically swept up by a soft breeze, dancing and falling in slow motion.

“You’re gonna make me regret this, aren’t you?”

“Definitely.”

A/N: guys I could hardly warn you above for the cheesiest ending you'll ever read in your life without spoiling the whole thing, but if a guy professed his love to me at destination cosmos, I'd melt into a pile of water slime or something. this is honestly so wild, and probably repetitive, and might feel rushed and insane towards the end, but I feel like it needs to be, because these two are insane.

I hope you guys are happy with this lmao, I've had a lot of fun torturing you the past few months!! a lot of LIH callbacks in this final chapter, if you can pick them out ily, it really feels full circle, and like the right ending for both of them, so I'm praying you guys enjoy it as much as the rest!!

Ending this series is bittersweet, because I truly do adore these two idiots, they have a place in my heart forever, and if they have a place in yours, I would welcome any asks/conversations about them in the future!!

Again, thank you. I don't really know how to end this without being a blubbering mess at how much I love you all for getting me here!!! Being able to finish something like this, and be genuinely proud of it, isn't something I've ever done before I came on this site, and your support of my writing, whether it be LIH or OYS or anything else, brings me so much happiness I can't even describe it.

#luke hughes #luke hughes x reader #luke hughes imagine #luke hughes fanfiction #nhl imagine #nhl fanfiction #luke hughes fluff #luke hughes angst #*writing #shoutout to megs dolls they’re gonna need a good 30 minutes of privacy #I dread to think what sort of shapes they’ve been smushed into

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arc-misadventures · 7 months ago

Note

Can I request for a sequel for A Proper Villain. Like Jaune's day to day and interactions with other heroes and villains.

The Blackcat, And The Stalker

In a dingy lit room, bound to a table, a figure clad in black sat bound to a chair with a hood on their head. Here, bound to the chair was, The Violet Shadow.

One of the few faunas hero's that fought to make the world a better place! Mostly for faunas mind you, but if helping the faunas helped the humans at the end of the day that was alright.

She had been captured after hitting one of the, Crowns, Dust silos that was being made from the labour of faunas slaves. Violet Shadow's goal was the destruction of the silos, while her compatriots freed the slaves. She had sacrificed herself to buy her teammates time to evacuate the slaves. This noble endeavor resulted in her capture, where she was eventually sold off to the worlds major villain, The Cabal to recuperate the Crowns loses.

Now she was here, in one of the, Cabals many interrogation rooms waiting for the fun to begin, and whatever they brought before her, she was ready for...?!

: Bahh! Let's leave them in a dingy lit room, that well be really menacing since they have a bag over their head, and can't see anything?!

: Where's the damn light switch?! We do not have time for this!

: Ahh, there it is... AH?! Since when did maintenance change the light bulbs? They're much brighter than the old ones...

: No! I have no time for this! We must finish this, soon!

Suddenly the bag over, Violet Shadow's face was removed, and she was left staring at the cerulean eyes of her old friend.

VioletShadow: Jaune Arc... It's a pleasure to see you again... traitor...

Jaune: T-Traitor? How precisely am I a traitor?

VioletShadow: After being kicked out of the hero academy, you turn to a life of crime! How could you, you had aspirations of becoming a hero, and when you failed you became a villain, no you couldn't even do that, you became a villains underling! How utterly pathetic...

Jaune: ...

Jaune: Rude. But, I can understand why you see me as a traitor. Going from hero academy to villain henchman, that makes sense. But, you know I didn't flunk out of, Beacon Hero Academy; I was framed, and kicked out because of, Cardin Winchester.

VioletShadow: But, even after you were cleared of wrong doings you refused to come back! Embracing the life of crime, you traitor!

Jaune: Well, that was mostly because of how they 'invited' me back. More, or less absolving themselves of any wrong doing, and made it all seem like an honest mistake on no ones fault that I was expelled. On top of that it took them half a year to prove my innocence when I had proof of my innocence! So yeah, I didn't want to deal with their BS, and quit frankly you don't deal with as much bull shit working with the villains.

Jaune: Also the hero leagues don't have nearly as many benefits as the, Goonuion does. So there's that...

Jaune: No wait! We don't have time for this! Okay, the Cabal paid five tons in raw Dust to get you from, the Crown. Now I need you to give me information that's worth at least five tons of raw Dust so we can let you go. What do you got for me?!

VioletShadow: Ha! I'm not going to tell you anything, traitor!

Jaune: Violet, we don't have time for this...!

VioletShadow: Then make time! Because it doesn't matter what you do to me I won't talk!

Jaune: You seriously don't understand how much of a time crunch we're on, I need information to trade you you're freedom. Right. Now!

VioletShadow: Ha! You won't get any information out of me! You can bind me, gage me, bend my body over the table, and stuff your hot rod in...?!

Jaune: BLAKE?!

Jaune bent down on the table as he spoke, Violet Shadow's true identity in a silent scream.

VioletSadow: H-Hey?! You know the rules: no revealing secret identities! I know it's an unspoken rule, but...?!

Jaune: The Bull is here!

Violet was silent as she registered the words that, Jaune had just spoken as dread filled her veins.

VioletShadow: A-Adam is here...?

Jaune: Yes! We are in the middle of a code: Bull Heart!

VioletShadow: B-Bull Heart?

Jaune: Yes, it's the codename we use when we have you here, and, Adam is here. The code is basically means, 'Get Violet Shadow out of here as fast as possible!'

VioletShadow: It does...?

Jaune: Yes! And, I know that being captured, and tied up is a wet dream for you...

VioletShadow: N-No it isn't...

Jaune: I know what kind of books you're into. Violet, so don't bull shit me!

VioletShadow: Ohh...

Jaune: So give me, something I can trade your freedom for. NOW!

VioletShadow: No.

Jaune: N-No...?

VioletShadow: No. I bet your lying... this is all a lie so you can extract important information from me! To get me to talk without resorting to torture of... any sorts... Hehehe~! Ahem! No! No, I will not talk, do your worst, Jaune because even knowing that, Adam could possibly be here, I will not...

Jaune: The Chameleon is also here...!

VioletShadow: T-The Cameleon is here... I-Ilia is here?

Jaune: Yep.

VioletShadow: ...

VioletShadow: Would the location of, Kings Vault be enough?

Jaune: No, only one villain cares about that.

VioletShadow: The location of, Atlas hidden weapons vaults?

Jaune: Which one?

VioletShadow: There's more than one?

Jaune: That's a no.

VioletShadow: Shit! Uhhh... I know about shipment of, Rainbow Dust being shipped by the, SDC; how about that?

Jaune: Rainbow Dust? That could work... How much, Dust are we working with here?

VioletShadow: I don't know the exact amount... But, the report said around 50 pounds worth of, Rainbow Dust was going to be transferred on, SDC train from the South Hill Dust Depot on the 18th.

Jaune: Hmmm... Even if it's not fifty pounds worth of, Rainbow Dust, if we hit that train we can also recoup the lost, Dust we used to buy you from, the Crown... Yes, this is a good deal. Congratulations, Violet Shadow, you just bought your freedom.

VioletShadow: That's great! Now what?

Jaune: Stage Two.

VioletShadow: Stage two; what's stage two?

Jaune swiftly opened the door, and ushered in several goons.

Jaune: Alright guys, we're moving on to, Stage Two! Let's get this going, now, now, now!

Several goons entered the room, two carrying a gurney, and what appeared to be a body bag on top, as well as several other goons with industrial cleaner levels of equipment.

VioletShadow: What's with the body bag?

Goon#1: We's smuggling you out 'ere in the body bag.

VioletShadow: Okay? And, the cleaner products?

Goon#2: Da freaking, Bull knows your scent!

VioletShadow: He knows my scent?!

Jaune: Yes, we have to sterilize the whole room to get ride of your smell! Now quit squawking, and get in the body bag!

VioletShadow: Okay, okay, I'm going!

Violet Shadow's bands were undone, and she swiftly got into the body bag,put on the gurney.

Jaune: Alright, get rid of the body! Go! Gogogogo!

Jaune ushered the pair pushing the gurney away as fast as possible, before he turned to the man holding the cords that were previously bound Violet Shadow to the chair.

Jaune: Burn those at once!

The henchmen nodded his head as he put the cords in a bag, and sprinted out of the room.

Jaune: Sterilize the chair first, she was sitting on it! And, clean the table, she had blood dripping down her chin, she may have spat blood on the table. Go!

Jaune watched as the cleaning crew swiftly got to work, they had shut the door, and made sure no one would come in, that was until the door was suddenly opened. They all turned around, as fear filled their veins, had they been caught.

: Ahh there you are, Jaune. I need... Is everything okay, Jaune?

Jaune: Ohh... thank gods it's you, Cinder... Get back to work!

Cinder Fall, the second highest ranked member of the, Cabal. Jaune. and the rest of the henchmen breathed a sigh of relief, before jumping back to work.

Cinder: Everything alright, Jaune?

Jaune: Violet Shadow was here.

Cinder: Ohh... Code: Bull Heart. Did you get rid of her?

Jaune: Yeah. Her traded her freedom for knowledge about a, Dust shipment from the SDC that contains fifty pounds of, Rainbow Dust.

Cinder: Fifty pounds? That's good, even if there isn't that much, Rainbow Dust on the train we can recoup our losses from the trade deal.

Jaune: My thoughts exactly as well. As much as I wanted a good deal, I wanted her out of here more so.

Cinder: Understandable. But, for what it was, it is a good enough deal.

Jaune: Hopefully the higherups are okay with it.

Cinder: I'll make sure they do.

Jaune: My thanks. Now then, did you need something, Cinder.

Cinder: Yes, the Boss wants to see you.

Jaune: Roman? Alright, I'll go, and see him when I'm done here.

Cinder: No, The Boss wants to see you.

Jaune: Oh... I best get going then.

Jaune: Alright guys, when you're done here, clean up the rest of the interrogation cells after, they'll get suspicious if we only clean one of them.

Goon#3: We're on it, Jaune!

Goon#4: We get a bonus for this right?

Goon#1: Hazard pay.

Goon#4: Hell yeah!

Jaune: Good luck boys. Alright then, time to go see, The Boss...

///

Bahh! This has been stuck in my drafts as a title for months! Now, I am free of it!

FREE!

#rwby #jaune arc #blake belladonna #adam taurus #ilia amitola #cinder fall #roman torchwick

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decembermidnight · 11 months ago

Text

Ner Mesh'la Jetii

Summary: After you've been assigned to your first ever mission alone as a Padawan with Clone Force 99, you explore your "secret" relationship with Hunter, completely oblivious to the fact that everyone around you knows the two of you share a special bond.

Pairing: Hunter x Jedi!fem!reader

Word count: 8.7k

Warnings: a LOT of smut, 18+ MDNI, shameless flirting, use of pet names (sweetheart), heavy making out, voice kink, authority and competency kink, masculinity kink, oral (m and f receiving), Dom!Hunter, dirty talk, body worship, hair pulling, biting, nipple play, glove kink, praise kink, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, a hint of overstimulation, creampie, Hunter being so in love it's almost pathetic

A/N: This is a sequel to Don't lose your focus! I highly suggest you go read it if you haven't already. I loved the idea of bringing these two back! This is like 85% smut it's insane I know but I'm a horny bitch what can I say As always, a massive thank you to @thefrogdalorian for being my beta and editor! I love you so much! Divider by @saradika-graphics Comments are reblogs are so appreciated! I hope you enjoy!

Masterlist - Read on Ao3

You’ve been looking forward to the moment you’d be reunited with him far more than you’d be proud to admit. In the aftermath of the unforgettable night you spent with Sergeant Hunter, you didn’t feel as guilty as perhaps would be expected for a Jedi. The guilt comes more from the fact that you’ve been craving his touch and fantasising about all the things you want to do to him... Oh, yes, your mind has wandered down a sinful path.

No matter how much meditation and training you had during the day, you’d always end up in the same place: splayed out on your bunk late at night in the solitude of your room, fingers busy giving yourself pleasure, remembering the words Hunter whispered in your ear as he held you tight in his arms.

Seeing him again as he climbed down the Marauder’s steps, fully dressed in his armour, awoke all the feelings you desperately tried to bury, especially in front of your Master. You had been worried that things would feel different, that time and space may have lessened his feelings towards you.

That was until he took off his helmet and you saw his brown eyes lighten up when your gazes met. You knew immediately that he still felt the same about you.

You were standing there alone, your Master was busy having a restricted meeting with the Jedi Council in the briefing room. Hunter greeted you by taking your hand in his, looking at you adoringly, with a hinted smile on his face. The tension between the two of you was palpable, the lust in your gazes unmistakable. Your hand lingered in his far more than it would have been appropriate for a friendly reunion.

Stars above, the quizzical looks on the faces of the other members of the Bad Batch should have told something to you, but you both didn't care.

Hunter lost no time in luring you to the barracks with an excuse – an urgent matter to discuss with you… privately.

You wanted – no, you needed to be alone; to celebrate your reunion and the feelings you still bear for one another…

The mere thought of being alone with him after so much time fantasising about it makes your heart thunder in your chest. Hunter can sense how fast your heart is beating, and you can feel the burning desire radiating from him.

The tension keeps building as the two of you walk across the barracks side by side. The thrill of having to appear nonchalant as you meet the soldiers you fight alongside everyday, who know you so well, makes it even more exciting. Hunter looks as handsome and confident as ever on the outside, but you can feel how impatient he is for the two of you to be finally alone. You know his enhanced senses are highly attuned to every single imperceptible signal of your body that would betray your arousal. His aura is permeated with lust and desire for you, and merely feeling it is making you throb with need.

You barely have time to enter your quarters before Hunter's large, gloved hands are already cupping your face. He is so desperate to kiss you, that he cannot even wait for the door to fully close behind you.

You immediately melt into him when you finally feel his lips on yours once again. The hunger behind each frenzied kiss is apparent as your lips meet over and over. Hunter is desperate to show you how much he missed you, how much he needs you. You smile contentedly at how frantic it is, so unlike the composure you both showed until a few moments ago.

Now that you’re passionately kissing in the secrecy of the barracks, the immense guilt you were feeling is gone. There’s only him. Him and his lips, lavishing you with the attention you desperately craved all this time.

Your arms instinctively wrap around his broad shoulders as he pushes you against the wall. You desperately want to make up for all the time you spent apart from each other.

Hunter covers your neck in kisses as his hands roam across your body, before they eventually come to a halt around your waist, caging you firmly in his embrace. He kisses you with such passion and sweetness that you are powerless to help the breathy moan that escapes from your lips.

"Oh, you have no idea how much I missed you, sweetheart," he rasps in your neck, "You have no idea."

"Missed you too, Hunter," you sigh, tone belying your arousal as your hands tangle in his hair.

When he hears those words and the sensual way you pronounce his name, Hunter presses his lips on yours with renewed desire. His mouth is a hot furnace enveloping you with its heat, and you swear your mind goes blank when his lips slowly part so that his tongue can make its way into your mouth.

It's this. This is the moment you have been yearning for. This thrill, this perfect stolen moment when you are reunited at last after so much time spent apart from each other.

He stops only so that he can look at you, at how beautiful you are. His hand goes on the small of your back, pulling you closer to him as the other cups your cheek delicately, in a gesture so soft and devoted that explains far more than words ever could. His piercing brown eyes roam between your eyes and mouth, before he captures your lips with his once more.

Hunter’s greedy hands roam across your body, trailing a path underneath your cape, and eventually under your clothes, too. It is as though he is desperate to remember the way your soft body feels under his touch. You feel shivers wherever his hands and lips roam on your naked skin.

You missed his strong hands wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer to him, the warmth of his body, the way his lips could never get enough of yours, but most of all, you missed how safe you felt in his arms.

You hear a rapping against the door which starts off gently at first. You know it’s the other members of The Bad Batch letting you know that your Master has come out of the briefing room.

You reluctantly place your hands on Hunter’s chest in a rather unconvincing attempt to push him away, certain that he must have heard the noise too. It seems like Hunter is ignoring it, though. He’s entirely focused on lavishing your neck with attention.

"We have to go… W–we have to go… we have t–to…" you repeat mindlessly, more to yourself than to him, as he keeps kissing your neck while inhaling your intoxicating scent that he missed so much.

Hunter shushes you by kissing you on the lips again. You feel yourself clenching around nothing, a sensation that makes you groan against his lips. You grip handfuls of his thick hair, fingers digging into his dark locks. Your tongues explore each other's mouths and you pull him closer to you, wanting to feel his strong, armoured body against yours.

"You're so beautiful, sweetheart," he rasps before your lips immediately meet again.

Even though there is a nagging voice deep down reminding you both that you have to leave, you are unable to tear yourselves away from each other.

Hunter’s adoring lips go on worshipping the delicate skin of your throat, covering it in kisses trailing down to your collarbones.

“Your skin is so soft…” he murmurs against your chest as he goes on covering it in sweet kisses.

His fingers are gently pulling the fabric of your top down, until his gloved hand brushes against one of your hardened nipples. The sudden contact of leather with your sensitive bud elicits a small moan out of you.

Hunter does not miss your reaction, humming low in his throat at the realisation, and starts drawing circles on it with his gloved finger.

You are getting lost in his touch, so affectionate yet erotic at the same time. It’s driving you aflame with lust, turning you into a desperate mess under his feather-like touch. You sigh deeply as you throw your head back and push your chest forward to offer yourself to him even more.

“Mmmh? You like this, sweetheart?” he coos as he keeps playing with your nipple, pleased at the way your body reacts to his gloved touch, eager for more.

“Oh, you do. Your heart is racing,” he answers himself, smirking against your skin as his lips trail up your neck to kiss your pulse point.

“Maker above, Hunter…” you whimper, heavily aroused.

Hunter lifts his head up to look at you. His brown eyes are darkened by lust at the sight of you writhing under his touch. His lips are mere inches apart from yours, curved up in a pleased smirk. He's not making an effort to come closer just yet, no. He wants to tease you and enjoy the way you're looking at him, adoring and begging for more.

That perfect moment of tension is interrupted by the return of the knocking against the door, this time more insistent than earlier.

You take advantage of Hunter’s split-second distraction to launch yourself back into kissing him with renewed fervour, completely ignoring it. He hums low in his throat, pleased by the lust that compelled your body forward, and welcomes you in his arms once again.

Your bodies grind against one another as your tongues greedily search each other’s mouths. Feeling Hunter’s body against yours sets you aflame with lust. Your throbbing, drenched pussy is desperate for relief. You are sure Hunter can smell how aroused you are and that your scent is driving him insane. You can feel it in the way his kisses grow more and more eager. You bite Hunter’s lip in a frenzied gesture of your desire which draws a low growl from his throat and causes him to further push you against the wall.

At this point, the banging on the door becomes so loud that it becomes impossible to ignore.

Hunter grunts in disappointment when you have to reluctantly end the kiss. He presses his forehead against yours, as his hands cup your face. You permit yourselves a few moments to regain your composure. He gives you one last regretful look before he pulls away. You know it’s a difficult step for Hunter, given the way your eyes are aflame for him; lips swollen and parted as your chest heaves after making out so intensely.

Hunter takes your hand in his and you head towards the exit together. You open the door to see a rather annoyed Crosshair, who nods toward your Master. Tech and Wrecker are not far behind.

You see your Master instructing other clone soldiers outside the briefing room, not too far from where you are. You immediately head towards him, not paying attention to the way the other members of the Bad Batch are looking at Hunter.

Crosshair catches the unmistakable adoration in Hunter’s eyes as he looks at you walking away.

“Discussing…” he hisses, taunting his brother before following you.

Wrecker follows him next, pushing Hunter with his shoulder, letting out a scoff.

"Wait – you know about us?" Hunter then asks Tech.

"Of course we do, Hunter. You're not exactly subtle with that," Tech spits, evidently annoyed at how little faith Hunter has in his brothers’ ability to read such an obvious situation.

Hunter lets out a defeated sigh, then follows you and the others towards the General. So much for discretion. He always prides himself on being a cool and collected leader, completing his objective in cold blood, being meticulous and precise. Seeing you again, though, caused him to falter. He can’t help it when it comes to you, especially after he hasn’t seen you in a while.

You take a deep, calming breath, hoping it hides the toll that the brief, yet intense, encounter has had on your body. With your nerves steadied and an apparently confident strut, you go to greet your Master, accompanied by all the members of The Bad Batch right behind you.

"Clone Force 99, it’s a pleasure to see you again," your Master says as his eyes roam across all the members of the squad.

"General, we're glad to be working with you once again," Hunter says confidently, having regained all of his martial composure. "What kind of mission do you have for us this time?"

Stars above, the way his voice becomes even deeper when he switches to Sergeant mode causes you to feel a tingle between your legs every time.

Regretfully, now is not the time for this. You have to focus on your Master, on the mission, and absolutely not on the handsome man you’ve just passionately made out with. You can’t mess this up, not when your Master encourages you to think of a plan and he’s listening to you carefully. After all this time following him, battle after battle, he is starting to give you more independence, to hear your voice and trust your judgement.

It is difficult to focus after you notice the way Hunter is looking at you, though. He is entranced by how secure and confident you look as you draw up a strategy.

You decide to act on his desire for you, to render him a desperate, flustered mess.

So, with a quick, casual gesture of your hand, you flip your hair behind your shoulder to offer him a better view of your neck. The small movement causes a hint of your scent to waft over to him. You catch out the corner of your eye as he closes his eyes for a fraction of a second when he inhales it. He clenches his hands into fists, longing for the moment when he will bury his face in your neck again. Maker above, he wants you.

You wish you could send him a fleeting, mischievous look, but your gaze is focused on your Master's observant eyes. You figure that ignoring Hunter as he's struggling with his desire for you would make you even more irresistible. You feel an immense power at the realisation. You, a Jedi, can cause this man to crumble in front of your eyes, all while you are merely conversing with your Master. He is watching you do something so simple, yet he would drop to his knees to worship the literal ground you walk on, should you only give the order…

Once the plan is all set and you’re about to climb the steps of the Marauder, ready to take off for this new exciting mission with The Bad Batch, your Master calls your name and you stop in your tracks.

“Yes?” you turn around to face him.

“A word?”

“Of course, Master.”

"The Council wants me to go on a diplomatic mission," he confesses as he crosses his arms looking at you.

"A diplomatic mission? Was that the reason for your meeting earlier? When are we leaving?"

"I’ll be going alone. You're not coming with me this time. It’s a very delicate negotiation," he explains in a cold voice.

You're conflicted. On one hand, there's your duty as a Jedi, to insist and follow your Master. On the other, you'd be disappointed to leave just now that you've reunited with Hunter. The perspective of having another mission together was incredibly exciting, and the thought of having just another moment alone with him, was fueling you with fire.

In the end, though, you decide to do the right thing. Your Jedi duties come before anything else.

"What?! I’m your Padawan, I should be by your side. What if you need me? What if I need you?"

"You will go with Clone Force 99. No further discussion,” he replies, ignoring your protests.

You sigh deeply as you try to think of an answer. He can sense the turmoil in you and decides to reassure you.

“That plan you drew up is good,” he says, and then pauses briefly to look into your eyes. “I trust you."

He is not exactly what you would define as a talkative person, so you know every word counts. You certainly cannot refuse after he just told you he trusts you so much he has assigned you to your first mission alone. No, not now that your Master thinks you’re ready, not now that he said those words to you.

“Thank you, Master. I will make you proud,” you smile back at him, sincerely comforted by his words.

"Come on, let's go now. If you succeed, you'll have plenty of time to celebrate with your Sergeant," he teases you as he turns around to get back on the ship.

"Master?!" you can only reply.

He briefly turns around and you see him stifle a laugh at your reaction. That’s unusual of him.

He knows. He knows, you're sure. No matter how much you try to hide it – at least when you're in front of him – you feel like there's nothing you can ever hide from your Master. He can read you like a book, after all these years spent together. Maybe it's because he, too, had experienced a forbidden attachment like this, many years ago, before taking you as a Padawan, before becoming a Jedi knight…

As the adrenaline slowly wears out after your first, successful battle without your Master’s supervision, you can’t help but think how different the Bad Batch's approach is from your battalion. You worked as a team and it was a pleasure to assist in the flawless, coordinated way they eliminated an entire battalion of droids before your eyes. Hunter gave the orders and effortlessly slayed droids with his vibroknife. He knew he looked incredibly attractive while doing so. He played along with his blade, making it dramatically twirl in his hands way more than necessary. It was so obvious that he wanted to act cool in front of your eyes. You decided to do the same and to look elegant and precise while using your lightsabers. You felt his gaze locked on you, and you hoped he was enjoying it and smiling underneath his helmet.

As you walk back toward the Marauder, you hear Wrecker bragging to Crosshair about how many droids he had eliminated. He groans loudly in defeat when he hears that his brother surpassed him, again. He groans even louder when he hears you’ve slayed more than double his total.

You let out a small laugh at his reaction as you walk with Hunter by your side.

“It’s hard to compete with a Jedi,” his voice sounds even deeper and huskier when it’s distorted by the modulator in his helmet.

You turn and face him, the both of you stopping in your tracks. Hunter places a hand on your cheek and caresses your face tenderly, looking at you leaning into his touch so sweetly. You feel his gaze trained on you from behind the dark visor. His helmet tilts slightly, taking in your beauty. Grateful for the gift of an unexpected, fleeting moment alone.

You shyly trail your hands up his armoured chest to try and reach the sides of his helmet to lift it from his face. You want nothing more than to see his deep, brown eyes looking at you. Just as your fingers make contact with his helmet, a distant sound interrupts you.

“Get a room!” Wrecker impatiently yells at the two of you from the Marauder’s ramp.

You can’t help the laugh that escapes from your lips.

Hunter looks at the big grin that spreads on your face, at you being so genuinely happy in this perfect moment. He’s grateful to the helmet he’s still wearing, so that you can’t witness how lovestruck he looks at the sight of you smiling.

He gives you an apologetic shrug of his shoulders and you follow the others up the Marauder’s ramp.

Armours and weapons now long discarded, you have an amazing time with The Bad Batch on your way back. Journeying through hyperspace is a quiet time dedicated to silence and meditation when you travel with your quiet, reserved Master. This time, however, you spend quite a few hours conversing and laughing with the squad, all while sending mischievous looks to Hunter from time to time. Hunter can't take his eyes off you. You feel them shamelessly roaming across the feminine curves of your body, this time not hidden by the baggy Jedi cape. The carnal desire in his eyes is a silent promise to pick up where you left off earlier.

When all the other members of the Bad Batch are finally asleep after all those hours spent drinking and joking, you finally sneak away, locking yourselves alone in the cockpit. Hunter loses no time in pushing you against the door behind you with his strong, masculine body. He immediately starts to kiss your neck and to inhale your intoxicating scent.

“You’ve been incredible today, Sergeant.” you whisper in his hair.

Hunter lifts his head to meet his gaze with yours. He takes in your beauty, the way your eyes glimmer in admiration for him. He then joins your lips in a passionate kiss that makes your knees tremble.

“Have I, Commander?” he rasps against your lips, before grazing your neck with his teeth and placing tender kisses along your delicate skin.

Maker, he loves your neck. He knows all the sweet spots where to concentrate his ministrations to elicit the prettiest whimpers out of you. You gasp as you tangle your hand in his hair.

“Y-yes. Absolutely. Oh, Stars, Hunter…” you can barely whisper before your vision gets blurry, your head swimming in pleasure.

Hunter buries his face in your neck and in your hair, wishing to be as close as possible to you. He is addicted to your scent.

He starts to undress you with care and devotion, touching you like the most precious thing in the galaxy. You sigh when you feel his warm hands roaming under your shirt, touching your soft, naked skin as he slowly peels your clothes away from your body. His adoring gaze is fixed between your feminine body and your eyes, glimmering for him. He caresses your body, worshipping every single inch of your skin. His mouth starts planting kisses across your collarbones and chest, leaving marks here and there, kissing the gentle curve of your shoulder.

You can feel his erection brushing against your lower belly. He’s insanely hard, still encased in his thin, black suit. His cock is throbbing for you already, and the mere idea of having that effect on him makes you dizzy with want. You pull him closer, the kisses becoming even more passionate as you look for friction. You desperately try to keep your moans low, muffling them in each other's mouths.

You hold on tight to his strong, muscular biceps before pushing him to sit on the pilot chair. You immediately kneel in front of him, your eyes darkened by lust at the sight before your eyes. You can clearly see the outline of his thick cock and it’s making you dizzy with want. You’re impatient to feel it inside of you, thinking how pleasurable it will be. Before that, though, you want to please him. You want him to know how much you missed him, how much you worship him, to give him something to dream of in his lonely nights.

“What are you doing, eh?” he asks, smirking when he sees you acting like that.

“Hunter, I want you to enjoy my mouth,” you smile provocatively, feeling brazen now that you can finally give into one of your many late-night fantasies.

He watches in awe as you kiss his erection from outside his thin suit, choking a moan at the sight of you down there, so eager to give him pleasure.

“Mesh’la…” he murmurs. It’s a word coming from a language you’ve never heard, but you love the sound of it coming from his lips.

You start to slowly undo his pants, careful not to inadvertently brush your hands against his cock. You only want him to feel the warmth and softness of your loving mouth.

Once you free his rock-hard, throbbing length, you look back at Hunter with a mischievous grin on your face. You slowly trail your tongue from the base to the tip while keeping eye contact. Hunter’s whole body goes rigid at that, and you hear him suppressing a moan in his throat. His fingers are digging into the armrest of the pilot chair, the veins in his hands popping out.

You have barely started, but Hunter is already a mess beneath you. The touch of your velvety, hot tongue is driving him insane and he can already tell he’ll be addicted to your beautiful mouth.

You decide to let him slowly simmer, building up pleasure until he’ll be crying out your name in a strangled moan. The mere idea sets you aflame with lust.

You start by giving small, kitten licks to the head of his cock. Hunter throws his head back, offering you a sinful view of his throat as he exhales in ecstasy.

“Eyes on me, Sergeant,” you point out teasingly, pleased at the way you’re reducing him.

As soon as Hunter looks back at you, you sensually lick your lips to dampen them before enveloping them around the head of his cock. Hunter is mesmerised by the view and feeling of something so warm and beautiful, all for him to enjoy.

Your tongue twirls around the head of his cock as you go down, massaging his shaft with your lips. Hunter clenches his jaw to suppress a moan when you let his cock glide into your throat.

You start to bob your head up and down his shaft and that’s when he loses it completely. He stifles a desperate laugh at how good it feels.

“Oh, sweetheart. Doing so good for me…” he praises you.

You love reducing him to this. You’re so damn wet and turned on, but you don't want to touch yourself just yet, no. This is all about him. You only want to focus on him, on his cock and the way his body reacts to your mouth.

"Oh, fuck…" he whimpers, trying his best not to come in your mouth as you look so provocative and sensual for him only.

Hunter looks stunning as he slouches into the pilot chair in just his black suit, trying to muffle his own moans of pleasure. The only source of light comes from the windshield of the Marauder in hyperspace. The blue hues highlight the muscles of his broad chest as it heaves up and down. His lips are curved up in a pleased smirk as his gaze is locked on you, completely entranced by the way your lips wrap around his cock.

You feel your arousal starting to drip down your inner thighs at that sight. Your clit is swollen and needy, begging for relief as you drive Hunter insane with your sweet mouth.

You can tell he’s getting dangerously close to the edge by the way his breathing becomes more shallow and frantic, the muscles of his strong body tensing up in preparation. That blissful sight of him, a cool and collected soldier desperately trying to keep it all under control, makes you want to push it even further.

“M-mesh’la, stop. S-stop. You’re gonna make me—an–and I want to fuck you. I want to fuck you, mesh’la. I want to fu–fuck y–”

"Come in my mouth, Hunter. I want to taste you," you interrupt him by sending a message through the Force, not wanting to stop just now that he's right on the edge.

Hunter can’t do anything but surrender when he sees the sheer lust in your eyes, the desire to taste him. The mere vision of you, the object of his desires ever since he laid eyes upon you, acting so filthy for him, sends him over the edge. His whole body tenses up even more until you feel his cock spurting his cum in your mouth, filling it with his delicious release. You swallow it as you go, savouring the salty, slightly bitter taste of his release. He can’t help the way his hips thrust to push his cock further into your throat, while simultaneously clenching his jaw to avoid moaning your name out loud and waking up the rest of the Batch.

Hunter is in a state of unadulterated bliss as he catches his breath. There's a grin on his face as he looks down at you between his legs, his spent cock still in your mouth.

You let it out in a loud pop and lick your lips provocatively. Hunter grabs your jaw in his hand, bringing you closer to him and kisses you passionately, tasting himself on your tongue. He's ravenous like a hungry beast. He moans in your mouth and you think you can't be any more turned on, but then Hunter surprises you again.

His strong arms lift you up as he kisses you, walking until the back of your thighs hit the command panel.

"My turn now," he smirks.

He kneels in front of you and spreads your legs, taking your drenched panties off.

Hunter takes in the heavenly view of your glistening core just right before his eyes. You're so eager for his touch, you bury your hands in his hair in an attempt to pull him closer.

Despite how tempting and luscious you look, Hunter does not give in just yet. He starts to kiss your inner thighs, licking all the drops of arousal coating them, making you shudder with need.

"Hunter…" you plead, your legs are already shaking but his strong grip keeps them spread open for him.

“Look at you. You were so hot on your knees, with my cock in your mouth, but this… This is even better. I love hearing you beg for me, sweetheart.”

This man can make you lose your Jedi composure, especially when his mouth is so close to your pussy and you can feel his hot breath on it as he whispers those words.

“Oh, Hunter, please…” you beg for him once again, your grip on his hair tightens and you wish you could just push your cunt into his mouth. His strong arms are keeping you still as you’re pathetically grinding your hips in front of his face, without the possibility of reaching it unless he allows it.

Hunter smirks at how desperate you are for relief. The sweet, intoxicating scent of your arousal is the most addicting thing he’s ever smelled. Despite how much he loves seeing you like this and how beautiful you look, he cannot wait any longer, he has to bury his tongue in your folds and taste you. It’s been so long, he missed it so much.

He digs his face between your legs and his tongue starts to run along your folds. He savours you, humming contendently when your sweet taste fills his mouth. You arch your back and sigh deeply as Hunter’s tongue masterfully licks your clit, committed to offering you the highest pleasure.

“You taste so fucking good, damn,” he pants as he briefly gasps for breath, before returning to where you want him the most.

“All for you,” you manage to whisper while looking at the sight below you, at the Sergeant that just a few hours ago was so authoritative and killed his enemies mercilessly, but now he is on his knees, worshipping you with his mouth and every inch of his body.

You clench at the sight below you, tugging on his hair harder as you start to grind your hips, rubbing your cunt in his face.

You can feel Hunter’s fingers digging harder into the flesh of your thighs, a low hum coming from his throat.

"That’s it. Ride my fucking face, mesh'la," he rasps authoritatively.

He’s loving it. He loves it when you use his body for your pleasure. He loves hearing your sweet moans for him and looking at your blissed-out face.

"Yes, Sergeant," you moan as you obey his order.

Your hips keep grinding to rub your cunt on his face, the pleasure quickly building up. You tug on his hair, riding his face in chase of your own orgasm.

“Hunter, Hunter, I’m–” you pant.

Hunter purrs into your cunt and his tongue licks your clit even faster, pushing you over the edge.

You thread your fingers through his soft brown curls and tug on them as a white-hot wave of pure bliss traverses your body. As you come, Hunter’s tongue keeps that devastating rhythm that makes your eyes roll backwards and your jaw drop open. You strangle the moan in your throat, preventing you from screaming his name and making everyone in the Marauder aware of what is happening in the cockpit.

Hunter keeps masterfully licking and sucking your clit until you come down from your high. He only stops once you finally release your tight grip on his hair.

“Could go on like this for hours, sweetheart. You taste so good, I can’t ever get enough of you,” he murmurs in between kisses to your inner thighs.

“Oh, Hunter, you have no idea how much I would adore that,” you say with a blissful smile on your face, thinking of how many orgasms he could draw out of you before turning you into a writhing, desperate mess. The mere thought sparks another fire of lust within you.

“Come here, Sergeant,” you call him with an urge to feel his body against yours once again.

Hunter is more than pleased to oblige. As he stands up in front of you, you are struck by how tall and handsome he is. You take a look at his face, still glistening in your arousal. You tug on his hair and trail your tongue along his lips, tasting the faint salty taste of your orgasm. He cups your face in his hands and kisses you on your mouth passionately. Your tongues taste each other’s pleasure, an addictive, lustful blend.

"We taste so good together, Hunter," you pant once your lips part.

“We do, sweetheart,” he growls as he pulls you to sit back down in the chair, making you straddle him. A proud smirk forms on his face when you notice he's hard and ready for you, again.

You immediately start grinding your wet, hot cunt all over the length of his thick cock, getting yourself off, drenching his cock and moaning softly in his ear. You trail your tongue along his neck, tasting his masculine scent, before softly biting on his earlobe.

“Take it off,” you whisper sensually in his ear, letting your hand roam down his abdomen, hinting at his tight, black shirt.

Hunter's whole body jerks under your touch as he suppresses a whimper. You can't believe you've reduced this fierce man into this whimpering mess; begging for you to ride his dick. The mere thought sends you another spark of desire between your legs.

Hunter obeys and strips immediately, offering you the tempting view of his strong, masculine body. His golden skin is hot to the touch, muscles rippling wherever your hand roams. You follow the contours of his chest tattoo - half rib cage that matches the half-skull tattooed on his face. The touch of your fingers is feather-like as you trace the ink decorating that stunning body. Hunter looks at you carefully, at the pleased expression on your face as your hand slowly trails down his abdomen. A mischievous smile forms on your lips as you align his cock to your entrance. You let the head slip inside of you and stop to look at his eyes. He has such a desperate expression on his face that makes you want to tease him even further.

"Mesh'la…" the way he says it, low in his throat, needy and firm at the same time, makes you clench around him.

"Quiet, Sergeant," you whisper against his lips, your hands cupping his face, fingers gently tracing the contours of his half-skull tattoo, before kissing him on his lips.

As your tongues explore each other's mouths, you slowly sink down on him, enjoying every single ridge and vein of his throbbing erection as he splits you open. He moans in your mouth and you swallow it greedily, kissing him with even more passion. You look at his deep, brown eyes as you keep going. His brow furrows slightly, overwhelmed by the feeling of your tight, wet cunt around his cock.

You have seen his fierce eyes, how tough he looks when he's in charge, when he has to be a soldier and slay his enemies, but this... This is different. He's looking at you with nothing but reverence and desperation. You have reduced Sergeant Hunter to this needy man panting beneath you. The power surge you feel at the sight below you is making you bold and confident. You feel like the most beautiful woman in the galaxy as you look at him staring at you, at his worshipful brown eyes. The thought drives you insane with lust.

Just as you bury his cock inside of you to the hilt, you stop. You feel each other clenching and throbbing in turns, getting used to the pleasurable sensation when your bodies join together as one.

You're both out of breath. Your fingers dig into his thick, wavy hair while his hands wrap around your waist. His touch is delicate and reverential. You're nothing like he's used to. He's used to battle and weapons, not the warm softness of your body. He's looking at you like you're the most precious thing he's ever laid eyes upon. His hands are callous after so many battles, and he rejoices in feeling how your skin is soft in contrast.

You lift your hips slowly, your tight cunt gripping his length in its grasp as it leaves your warmth, soaking wet already. You leave just the tip in, enjoying the desperate expression on his face. His brown eyes are filled with lust as he silently begs for you to resume your movement.

You sink back down on it slowly, wanting to enjoy every single inch of his length. You both moan and sigh in turns, until you have his cock buried to the hilt inside of you once again.

“I missed you so much…” you whisper against his lips as you start riding him sensually.

“You have no idea. Every – every f–fucking day I thought about you," he whimpers "thought of this," he adds as his arms wrap around your body, pulling you closer to him.

You know it should feel wrong to be so attached to a man, to smile at the tender words he says while you’re making love. This is not the Jedi way, after all. But how can it be wrong when looking into his eyes feels so perfect?

A wide grin forms on your face as you look at the man below you, worshipping you like a goddess.

Hunter is mesmerised by the view of your breasts bouncing right in front of his face. He can’t resist and just starts to kiss one of them, sucking on the soft skin. He then takes your nipple between his lips, making his tongue twirl around it, eliciting a pleased moan out of you. His thumb rubs your lips possessively and you welcome it into your mouth, sucking it provocatively, turning him on even more.

"How in the galaxy do I fucking deserve this? How do I fucking deserve you?" he whimpers as he looks at you being so sensually beautiful.

You capture his lips in yet another passionate kiss, as if you were unable to have your lips parted from one another. Hunter's fingers then dig into your hair and gently pull your head to the side so that he can cover your neck in kisses as he gets lost in your scent.

He breathes you in as if your scent was oxygen. He's addicted to it – soft, feminine, comforting yet so sensual it drives him insane and can barely restrain himself from fucking you every time he catches it.

Your scent lingered in his bunk after you spent your first night together. The days following your encounter, any time he went to rest, he smelled you and a bittersweet smile appeared on his face. Hunter was nostalgic of that night you spent together, and was determined not to let you slip away from him another time, if he ever met you again.

"Your scent drives me insane, mesh'la," he confesses, his hot breath washing against your skin.

That word, again.

Your hands cup the sides of his neck as your thumbs rub his throat possessively. He lifts his chin to face you, looking at you with his adoring brown eyes.

"Hunter," you let out in an aroused sigh "W–what does mesh'la mean?"

He cups your face in his hands and tilts it towards him so you can look in his eyes – deep, sincere, devoted.

"Beautiful. You're beautiful, sweetheart," he says before stealing another passionate kiss that makes you flutter around him.

Hunter hums in his throat and deepens the kiss even further, tangling his fingers in your hair, caressing you as if you were the most fragile and precious thing he's ever touched.

“Ner mesh'la jetii," he whispers in your ear sweetly. "My beautiful, beautiful Jedi. You looked so good – brave, strong, powerful, fighting with your lightsabers. I couldn’t take my eyes off you, sweetheart,” he says before his lips are back on your neck, lavishing it in sweet kisses.

Hunter can’t resist biting the soft flesh of your neck, yet he is careful to only leave marks on your skin where he knows your body will be covered by clothes. He is so attentive and careful even when he's possessed by lust. He wouldn't want anything more than to mark your neck, so that you could show everyone who you belong to, but he understands – you're a Jedi, he's a Clone Trooper. He wouldn't want to jeopardise the brilliant future you have ahead due to his own selfishness. It's a silent agreement you respect and understand, too.

His lips keep adoringly tracing the sensual curve of your shoulder as you keep riding him, as you gradually increase your rhythm to grant the highest pleasure for you both, your panting hot against his neck. Your clit is pleasurably rubbing against his shaft, driving you closer and closer to the edge.

Your body starts trembling, your breathing gets shallower and you can’t help letting out whimpers. Hunter grabs your hair and pulls so that he can look at you getting off on his dick. He can feel you're close, his senses are highly attuned to every signal your body gives out.

"Use your words," he orders.

"I'm coming, Hunter," you say in a desperate, pleading voice.

"Don't you love coming on my cock, sweetheart?" his voice is dark and lustful, giving you goosebumps all over your body.

You smile and nod in response, but that's when he grabs your throat to force you to look at him, and you see that flame in his eyes again.

"Answer me," he rasps authoritatively, drawing you even closer to your orgasm.

"Y–yes, I–I do," your voice is shaky, jaw trembling in his hand and breathing getting even more shallow.

"Say it."

"I – oh, fuck – I love coming on your cock, Hunter," your voice sounds so sweet and shaky when you pronounce those words. You can clearly feel his cock throbbing and hear a low, pleased growl in his throat.

"Then come on my fucking cock, Commander," he orders.

You finally let go as soon as you hear his order and just as your eyes roll backwards. Your lips part in ecstasy and he's quick to capture them in a kiss to muffle your moans. Hunter grunts low in his throat as he feels your cunt clamping erratically around his cock, his hand keeping your jaw in place for him as he sticks his tongue inside your mouth. He swallows every single moan of yours as he rides you through your high.

As the orgasm slowly fades out, you find yourself panting against his mouth, your foreheads are touching and notice his brown eyes are still looking at you adoringly. You're blissfully smiling, being reminded just how much pleasure Sergeant Hunter can bring you. A pleasure you can't reach late at night, alone in your bed with your fingers only.

Hunter lets you catch your breath like that, cradled by his strong arms as he keeps shallowly thrusting into your sensitive cunt.

"I want to fuck you, sweetheart," he whispers, his nose brushing against your hairline.

"You are," you giggle.

"No, sweetheart, I want to fuck you," he articulates, the grip of his hands on the back of your thighs turning to steel, lifting you as he stands up from the pilot chair.

You barely have time to register what’s happening, when his cock slips out of you and your back suddenly feels the coldness of the floor against its flustered skin, making you gasp. Hunter’s hands cradle your head and the small of your back, to shield you.

“I got you,” he smiles reassuringly before he enters back into you in one thrust. The combination of those actions makes you clamp around his cock, and a small whimper escapes your lips.

Hunter immediately covers your mouth with his to muffle your desperate moans as you feel his cock stretching your sensitive cunt even further.

And there you are, giving into your animalistic desire for each other on the cold, metallic floor of the cockpit.

Oh, it's so good. You love riding him, but having him on top of you, pumping his hard cock inside of you is even better. Hunter's grip on your body tightens as he feels how hard your walls clench around his cock when he acts so dominant. Your eyes roll backwards each time he hits that spot inside of you, making you see stars.

"S–so good, so, so fucking g–good," he whimpers as he keeps thrusting into you pleasurably slowly. He wants to enjoy every single inch of your hot, wet cunt.

His voice is so low and desperate that your walls clench hard around him. The sensation is so pleasurable that he has to stop abruptly, a grunt escaping from his lips. He doesn't want to come inside of you just yet.

"Damn, sweetheart, you're killing me," he pants in your ear.

He takes your lobe between his teeth and softly bites it, growling like a rabid, hungry beast. You let out a whimper at that.

"Oh, I know, I know," he purrs. "I know you can take it. You're such a good girl for me."

You swear his voice alone could make you come.

Your eyes shut in bliss, getting lost in the feeling of being so full of him once again.

"Look at me, mesh'la," he whispers softly, yet authoritatively.

When you open your eyes for him again, a smug smirk forms on his lips.

"Yes, like this. Damn, you're so fucking pretty," he growls in between violent thrusts that make you see stars.

"Been wanting to bury my dick inside of you since we were in your barracks earlier. If they didn't stop us, I'd–" he pauses. The hand covering your mouth goes into your hair, delicately caressing it. "Damn, sweetheart, I'm losing my mind. Missed fucking you so much," he whispers against your neck and you feel his hot breath against your already flustered skin.

“Me too, Hunter, me too,” you can barely mumble, a blissful smile on your face as his cock keeps hitting that perfect spot inside of you.

But Hunter doesn’t stop there, no. He continues worshipping you with his mouth, with his hands and with his body as he thrusts into you.

You grab a handful of his hair and pull it, so you can have access to his neck to sensually trail your tongue along it and then bite it. Hunter moans in surprise, heavily aroused by your gesture, and buries his cock inside of you to the hilt, then stops and grunts in your neck.

"Fuck. Fuck, sweetheart. It's a dangerous game you're playing," he growls.

You giggle in his neck before biting him even harder.

"Not gonna last if you – if you–" his dark voice betrays a hint of desperation which turns you on even more.

Hunter grabs a handful of your hair in response, planting his elbow on the floor and covers your mouth with his other hand before starting to thrust into you so hard you can't help rolling your eyes.

The way he's giving it to you is so raw and feral, it's driving you insane as you drag your nails across his muscular back. Hunter bites back into your neck and growls wildly, determined to give it to you until he fucks every trace of sanity away from your body.

"Oh, is this what you wanted, sweetheart?" he grits darkly against your neck. "You like it rough, mh? Stars, I can feel how much you like this," he smirks.

Hunter's hand leaves the back of your head and goes between your legs, his thumb starting to rub your clit. A whimper escapes from your throat.

"Quiet. Quiet, pretty girl, or they're gonna hear us," he whispers in your ear.

You clench hard at that, making Hunter choke a grunt in his throat in response.

"Give me one more. One more, sweetheart," he murmurs softly, yet with an air of authoritativeness.

You love it when his more dominant side comes out when he fucks you, giving you orders like the natural born leader he is. It’s a role that fits him perfectly. You gladly follow his lead as he tames your fiery personality in a way no one ever did.

His thick fingers are rubbing your swollen clit in the most delicious, yet devastating way. His touch drives you towards another orgasm, embarrassingly soon after he ripped the previous one from your weary body. Hunter can sense your heart thundering in your chest, the irregular way you're breathing, your body tensing in preparation.

"Yeah. Let me see how beautiful you are when you come on my cock," he says in his deep, husky voice, encouraging you to let go.

His words give you the final push and you come hard around him. It's an overwhelming hot blaze of bliss starting at your core and ripping your whole body and soul apart. Hunter's large hand muffles the desperate moans that shouldn't escape your mouth.

"Yes, yes, there it is. Good girl. You're my good girl," he encourages you as he keeps rubbing circles on your swollen clit, your walls fluttering around his thick cock as he keeps thrusting into you.

Your eyes roll backwards, unable to stay focused on his gaze. Seeing the way you're enjoying this, the immense pleasure you're feeling, drives Hunter close to the edge too.

"You're so fucking beautiful. Oh, I'm gonna come inside of you. You belong to me. To me. You are mine," he growls.

His thrusts lose that merciless rhythm and grow slower and deeper. He eventually comes with a ragged groan in your ear, making you clench even harder around him when you hear that desperate sound. He tightens his grip around your waist, as if he was afraid you might slip away from him again. Hunter buries his cock deep in your cunt as the warmth of his release spreads inside of you. He kisses you desperately, like he never wants this to end. You’re enveloped in the warm embrace of his strong, masculine body. His warm breath washes across your skin as he whispers tender words about how much he missed you and how perfect you are. Your hands are tenderly cupping the sides of his face as you reciprocate his kisses, smiling against his lips as his thrusts slowly come to an end.

Taglist: @sonicrainbooms

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susiephone · 3 months ago

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i think part of why some people have a knee-jerk negative reaction to any attempt to understand the motives of fascists is because if you acknowledge that anyone can be radicalized, you have to acknowledge that anyone includes you.

we know humans are very, very suspect to groupthink, pack mentality, tribalism, and learned helplessness - an individual is smart and empathetic, a group is... not. but we also need to be in groups to survive, not just practically but emotionally. we generally don't do well on our own. so you see how this can lead to problems, especially if no one's working to keep their worst impulses in check.

i think a lot of people think they'd never fall into fascist thinking because of who they are, because they're good people, because they're built different - but it likely has more to do with who raised you, what social groups you spend your time with, how educated you are, how much exposure you got to other perspectives, and whether or not you were preyed on by someone with an agenda when you were vulnerable. it's the same with people who share that "you are not immune to propaganda" meme... while clearly thinking that they, themselves, are in fact immune to propaganda.

i don't mean to say that individuals hold no responsibility - your actions are your own, and ultimately it's up to you to not become your worst self. and it is definitely true that fascism appeals especially to people who were already bullies. but i do think we need to keep in mind why people become their worst selves, and how it is unfortunately very, very easy compared to the alternative.

anyway! if you want to learn more about how people become radicalized, i'd recommend:

Hey, Hun: Sales, Sisterhood, Supremacy, and the Other Lies Behind Multilevel Marketing by Emily Lynn Paulson (okay okay I know saying multilevel marketing companies are in any way comparable to fascism is a bit much - but the book does a great job illustrating how someone smart and empathetic, someone who by all rights should "know better" can get sucked into a cult-like environment, and why they might stick around even after realizing the situation is fucked. the book also examines the relationship between these companies and the american right.)

You're Wrong About: "Losing Your Relatives to Fox News" (does a great job explaining why people who have been radicalized are so resistant to learning any information that contradicts their worldview)

A Bit Fruity: "How Did Elon Musk Get Like This?" (has a really comprehensive timeline of Elon's journey down the alt-right pipeline)

Hype: How Scammers, Grifters, and Con Artists Are Taking Over the Internet--And Why We're Following by Gabrielle Bluestone (specifically talks about the spread of false information and scams on the internet, and touches on how this can lead to radicalization)

Who's Afraid of Gender? by Judith Butler (talks about the "anti-gender" movement, and how the movement can operate despite - or because of - all the contradictions in its messaging, and how it picks up new members)

TikTok vs Democracy (just the entire video, but there's an especially chilling bit near the end where it's demonstrated exactly how easy it is to slip into fascist rhetoric without even realizing it)

Girl Math & Girl Power: The Conservative Politics of 'Girl World' (examines the "I'm just a girl!!!" thing through the lens of its connections to conservative ideology and the tradwife thing)

White Supremacists and the Tradwives Who Love Them and its sequel 'Oppressed' by Choice: Tradwives Against Feminism (a deep dive into the tradwife movement and its intersection with white supremacy and other fascist ideology)

A Man Plagiarized My Work: Women, Money, and the Nation (a deep dive into how women's work has always been undervalued, and the reason some women are drawn to fascism)

A Bit Fruity: "How Conservatism Infiltrated Pop Culture" (an examination into why so many young people are attracted to the alt-right, and how the fuck we got here)

A Bit Fruity: "The Crunchy to Far Right Pipeline" (a deep dive into how people who consider themselves liberal and progressive can still fall down the alt-right pipeline)

there are loads more resources, so please share them in the comments!!

#politics cw

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mars-ipan · 10 months ago

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HEY FOLKS!

sooooo. remember when i was posting about being up way too late for a powerpoint thing i was doing with friends? yeah i'm posting that final powerpoint now.

allow me to introduce you all to...

THE KOMAHINA BIBLE

(aka a demonstration in unmedicated ADHD)

120 slides. 163 MB. somewhere between 14 and 22 hours of work. sleep deprivation. influence from @anonzentimes , respected komahina scholar. this bad baby has it all this is a powerpoint presentation summarizing and analyzing just about everything you need to know about komahina in sdr2 (and a bit from adjacent media as well). we go in-depth and we prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that komahina real and love wins (loses?)

WARNING: THIS CONTAINS MAJOR END-GAME SPOILERS FOR SDR2 (AS WELL AS DR1). IF YOU WISH TO REMAIN SPOILER-FREE (OR YOU ARE SOMEONE WHO I HAVE BEEN TRYING TO KEEP SPOILER FREE (YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE)) THEN DO NOT VIEW THIS POWERPOINT PRESENTATION UNTIL YOU KNOW. I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR YOU HAVING BEEN SPOILED

ok cool! some other things to keep in mind under the cut:

THIS IS LIGHTHEARTED THIS IS LIGHTHEARTED THIS IS LIGHTHEARTED. IF YOU DO NOT SHIP KOMAHINA THAT'S LITERALLY SO FINE I KNOW THERE IS KOMAEDA SEXUALITY DISCOURSE GOING ON RN FOR SOME GODFORSAKEN REASON KNOW THAT I DO NOT THINK EVERYONE HAS TO SHIP KOMAHINA PLEASE I'M LITERALLY A MULTISHIPPER PLEASE. PLEASE DO NOT CRUCIFY ME FOR FUNNY YAOI POWERPOINT

i made this powerpoint in two sittings across 2 days, each sitting about 8-12 hours long

i got about 7 total hours of sleep in that time. not for each day- total. i was mad scientist delirious by the end of this

originally, i wanted to include far more- i wanted to analyze other media in depth (like the stageplays, the drama CD, komaeda's official songs, and even official art and materials) but i did not have the time for it. maybe i will make a new testament powerpoint detailing these as well as fandom analysis but that is not currently in the works

this is a presentation! as such the intended way to consume it is As A Presentation! unfortunately i am not someone who records videos so i cannot present it to you. if you would like to present it to you feel free. if you would like to present it to your friends feel free. if you would like to present it to the internet i'm honored but would like for you to talk to me about it first. cool

the original target audience for this was my friends and not all of them are anime people so. i am using the more english-friendly terms (as well as first names). i don't think this will bug any of you but i'm making it clear anyways

all art included in the presentation is credited with a caption linking back directly to the original artist's account. if you see your art in here and you do not want your art in here: let me know! i will take it down immediately and without question.

i may have missed some details/glossed over some things! if you think i've made a mistake somewhere or have missed something important, talk to me about it! i'd love to discuss it and if i make the new testament sequel powerpoint then i will include your corrections at the beginning :)

a lot of the jokes i make happen in the transitions of this powerpoint. some of them use audio- click on the little speaker icon to play the audio and time the animations yourself i suppose. i'd recommend playing it as a slideshow ^-^

have any questions about a particular point i make? ask me! i will elaborate for you

ok that's all i can think of!! have fun folks :]

#marzi speaks #danganronpa #sdr2 #komahina #nagito komaeda #hajime hinata #<- i put so much energy into this thing best believe i am maintagging it #OH ALSO. the link is a shared google drive link that takes you to the powerpoint so you can download it. it is safe i prommy #ANYWAYS i really loved making and giving this presentation. have a powerpoint night with your friends it's a blast #komahiners i hope you like this beast. it took a piece of my soul with it i'm pretty sure. i learned a thing or two as well which is crazy!#bc i thought i knew them like the back of my hand. but actually there's even more i don't know. i need to find a translation of the drama C #ok that's it!#rejoice! komahina bible be upon ye!

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wirewitchviolet · 6 months ago

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I miss games conveying a sense of Bigness

As you know if you watch my twitch streams, I play a lot of games, and games from a lot of eras, and there's a whole bunch of industry trends you pick up on from certain time periods. The one I really feel like talking about was a definite thing from oh... 1998 through... 2010 or thereabouts? Basically the aughts, give or take a couple years. Or if you prefer, the first two Playstations' run and a bit of the third. It was a period where games in general were really committed to feeling Big.

It feels a little weird to say that when major releases are priding themselves on stuff like measuring how much disk space they need in terrabytes and maps that sprawl out everywhere, but that's not what I'm talking about here. Games trying to feel Big is more of an attitude thing, and ironically enough I'd say it fell out of fashion almost immediately when Open Worlds became the new big thing. We hit a point where people actually made the maps for their games super big (even if most of that space was just kinda vast stretches of unremarkable rocks) so there's no more need to fake it, right? But faking it was kinda great.

I was thinking about this a lot playing the Resident Evil 2 remake, and comparing it to the original PSX game. See the original Resident Evil was set in a spooky mansion out in the middle of nowhere, but RE2 was the Bigger Better Sequel. So now we have a zombie outbreak happening in a whole major city, not just this single mansion. And how do we accomplish that? Do we actually model hundreds of buildings and have a big meandering adventure through all of them, or even a good swath? No not at all. Let's compare the actual maps side by side...

[There WAS a full map of RE2 here it was causing the post button to bug out. Look it up on your own?]

It's a little bigger. There's maybe a dozen more total rooms? But mostly, it's a smoke and mirrors thing. We've still got one big primary location, an animal-filled hike to a side location and back, and an underground science facility, but it feels like we've increased the scope to an entire city. The first playable moments have us out on the streets of the city, objectively in a few quick hallways, but presented as streets packed with dozens of crashed cars, raging fires everywhere, dead bodies littering the streets, and what again feels like innumerable zombies feasting in scattered packs. Once inside, arms of several zombies outside will reach in clawing at you, or later in the game finally breaching through. The remake completely loses that feeling. It feels like there's maybe a dozen zombies out on the streets.

Not to focus on just the one game though. How about GTA3? Remember how even when you're just on the first island, it feels like you're exploring this vast sprawling city?

Here's a more elevated angle from about the same point. I'm looking at this with noclip.website by the way, it's a really cool little toy.

The actual map is LAUGHABLY small. But it FEELS huge. They were really careful to avoid straight roads, and place a couple big vision blocking buildings, even if they're basically just a cube or two so that when you're actually on the ground, it always feels like there's so much more around you. Have another side by side, and a rough estimate of what's visible on the ground in the bird's eye.

RPGs around this time were also having a lot of fun playing with scale comparisons. FF7 is the obvious go-to. The world map is on par with any other in the series, but Big Cities are presented as such, making it very clear that you're just seeing parts of a single district in Midgar, really just the main street in Junon. Dragon Quest 8 had this very bold idea to keep the same visual scale on the world map as in the streets of the towns, with forests made of actual individual trees.

And I'm not even getting into the biggest elephants in the room. Are you old enough to remember how mind-bogglingly sprawling Hyrule Field felt? Maybe a bad example when sequels have kept that focus on selling their worlds as staggeringly Big. Shenmue? Objectively, looking at this map, there's not much there, but damn if I don't feel like this was a real town I lived in for a while 20 years ago. It's the way the detailing gets finer and finer the closer you get to Ryo's bedroom, where you can open every drawer, turn on every light, turn that orange in your hand, you know? I believe that bus you take to the docks has to stop in several other neighborhoods like this one.

And of course, then there's the one other series, maybe worth mentioning, perhaps.

Years later I'm still just speechless.

Again though, I don't actually WANT games with worlds as big as some of these feel. There just isn't the time and the money and the ability for a creative team not to burn out to fully realize that in a handcrafted caring way. I want some kind of inverted Plato's Cave, where it feels like there's a vast breathing world out there, but I'm really in a small cozy space watching masters of the craft put on a shadow puppet show.

#game design #resident evil 2 #ocarina of time #final fantasy 7 #final fantasy vii #zelda #ico #shadow of the colossus #shenmue #dragon quest 8 #grand theft auto 3

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lyricalt · 1 month ago

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happy wip wednesday! got tagged last week but totally forgot, lol. :')

Here's a preview for foresight that I've been noodling at since/during hindsight, which is probably necessary to read first, the time travel fic that is constantly making me pull my hair out. I'm hesitant to call it a strict sequel. More like a follow up? We'll see!

=======

Sniper is in the middle of relocating to a different post when Spy passes him by with a nod. From the corner of his eye, Sniper sees Spy halt midstep, turn back to look at him, and dart over.

The next thing Sniper knows, his arm is being grabbed. Abrupt, sure, but not as alarming as Spy cupping his hand under Sniper’s jaw.

“Did you know your scar is gone?” Spy asks, surprised. He turns Sniper’s face, his grip gentle but firm.

Sniper slaps him.

Spy lets go of his face. It’s hard to say who looks more shocked. Spy puts a hand to his own cheek, like he’s offended that Sniper even hit him.

“What scar?” Sniper takes a step back, staring like Spy’s gone completely insane. What kind of guy just grabs other people’s faces without asking? Or maybe he’d been doing an enemy spy check but what a bloody weird way to go about it. Sniper would’ve rather had Spy stab him instead.

“The one-” and Spy stops speaking. He looks at his watch and proceeds to stare down at it for a long time. His brow furrows. “... Never mind.”

Sniper waits for what he feels is an appropriate amount—five even seconds of polite silence—and rolls his eyes. “I don’t got time for this,” Sniper says, impatiently. The sounds of gunfire and explosions are getting close to the base. Not a good sign. The team is losing, faster now that both he and Spy are wasting precious minutes gaping at each other. “You need anything from me or not?”

Spy mutters to himself, brushing past Sniper. “Time.”

Cryptic. Figures.

“Oi,” Sniper calls out before Spy has the chance to disappear around the corner. “We still meetin’ up after hours? Still a go with the job?”

Spy has a cigarette in his mouth. It’s already down to the filter. Sniper didn’t think anyone could smoke that fast, but apparently Spy’s full of mysterious skills other than grabbing people by their faces.

“The job? Oh, yes. Probably,” Spy says.

“Probably?”

“Most likely.”

“We leave tomorrow,” Sniper reminds, frowning. Just yesterday Spy had been dropping snide comments about prep work, pre-prep meeting, prep checklist, prep prep prep. Their meetup later today had been his idea. “Now would be a good time to call it off if you think there’s gonna be a problem.”

Spy gives him a blank stare. It sure does imply there might be a problem. Maybe even more than one problem. There’s a bullshit meter that Sniper has developed over the years. Spy is usually a little better at going under the radar, but now it’s abundantly clear that Spy is unsure of what Sniper is even talking about.

“You hit your head or something?” Sniper raises an eyebrow. “Need a trip back to respawn?

Spy gives a short, disparaging laugh. “If you don’t mind.”

Sniper stops. He’d meant it sarcastically, but Spy looks like he actually wants to take him up on the offer. “Come again?”

“If you have the bullet to spare.” Spy adds, “The kukri will work, if not.”

Sniper holds up a hand, stopping Spy from coming any closer, and fumbles for his rifle. He’d rather not waste the bullet on his own teammate but neither does he want Spy any nearer. There’s something off about him, and not in a might-be-the-enemy-spy kind of way. Besides, the kukri is messy and painful work. He might not particularly find Spy the easiest bloke to get along with, but there’s no need to give him a slow death. A bullet will be quicker.

Sniper goes through the practiced motions of loading up while his mind whirls. This is all just bizarre.

Spy waits, not even flinching when Sniper aims the rifle. Through the scope, Sniper can see the worried pinch to Spy’s brow, and the way Spy stares back at him is… strange. Expectant and oddly calm. Not the type of look someone gives when waiting to be shot through the head.

“You really want me to do this?” Sniper asks, just to be sure.

“Please,” Spy says, and he’s never sounded so polite, up until the moment he points to the middle of his own forehead when Sniper hesitates for a second too long. “Right here, in case you’ve forgotten.”

“Alright, no need to be an arse,” Sniper mutters.

That gets him another laugh. Sniper’s finger almost twitches a hair too soon from the sound.

“Oh,” Spy says suddenly, and Sniper lets off on the trigger for a second time. “Yes. We’ll meet up after work. The Fugazzi job is still a go, but there will be some minor changes.”

“How minor?” Sniper asks suspiciously.

“Find out tonight,” Spy says with the kind of smirk that feels like it specifically has the purpose of making Sniper annoyed enough to finally pull the trigger.

He sends Spy back to respawn in a bloody spray.

+++

“You notice anything funny ‘bout Spy?” Engineer asks, not too long after.

Sniper looks up from his rifle. They’re hanging by the dispenser. He hasn’t seen Spy since that strange run-in at the hallway.

“He’s always been an odd fellow,” Sniper says, noncommittally. “But yeah. Maybe he’s called it for the day. It’s Friday, after all.”

Engineer lets out a doubtful noise. “Well, I’ve been keeping an eye on the teleporter usage. Thirty minutes ago he spent at least ten minutes hurling himself back and forth through it.”

If Spy had been suffering from a concussion or head injury, it looks like the trip back to respawn didn’t help anything. Likely made it worse from the sound of it. Sniper grunts. Great. A useless teammate for the rest of the day.

They lapse into silence. Under normal circumstances, it would suit Sniper just fine, but now he’s getting the mild anxiety of having a potentially unreliable and unstable partner for an off-grounds mission. “He still at it?”

“Hrm… no,” Engineer says, frowning. He fiddles around with a secondary PDA, a cumbersome boxy thing with a bunch of scores and statistics flashing on the screen. He holds it over. “But take a look at this.”

Sniper doesn’t much like taking his eyes off from the scope but the BLUs have been strangely quiet for the past couple of minutes. He takes a look at the PDA.

Spy’s kill count is higher than usual. It’s also steadily ticking up, past nine bodies. He’s killing a couple of BLUs twice over. Sniper’s brow goes up. That might explain why the BLUs haven’t been around their neck of the woods. They haven’t had the chance.

“Is he…” Sniper says, blinking. He flips the PDA over, thinking the numbers might right themselves to a more believable amount. “Is that correct?”

“Don’t know.” Engineer scratches under his helmet. He takes the PDA back.

A minute later, they hear the Announcer declare that RED has taken the Intelligence. It’s one thing to have a faulty scoreboard. Quite another to have the Announcer back it up.

“Hoo-wee.” Engineer whistles, low. “Spy must’ve eaten his wheaties this morning.”

“We’re meeting up after work to do some spot checks on our duo job,” Sniper says, finally lowering his rifle in disbelief. “Guess I can ask.”

“If he keeps this up, I’d say you two are golden for the mission.”

Sniper shrugs, very much doubting the sentiment. “We’ll see.”

+++

Things are so far from golden, they might as well be smoke-gray ashes with how Sniper’s mind nearly implodes when Spy tells him the minor changes.

“Why on earth do we need a bloody teleporter?” he blurts out, even before Spy finishes explaining. “The mission ain’t complicated. Hell, I’ll go and do it myself.”

“No. I need one,” Spy says, cigarette smoke wafting out of his mouth. He smells like a minimum of three tire fires. The entire workshop is covered in a haze.

Sniper is pretty sure Spy has been chain smoking all day, and while he doesn’t give a damn about Spy’s daily cigarette intake, the slight change in behavior is concerning. Sniper had pegged Spy as an efficient and collected type of fellow, maybe a bit snobby, but it’s as if a dial had been slightly tweaked in him—like Spy’s habits have turned up by a few notches. It makes him look completely neurotic, which doesn’t seem in line with what Sniper had gathered from the few months of working with the guy.

“Listen,” Sniper begins to say, and would’ve resorted to calling Spy nuts and several other rude things, including unprofessional, if only Spy hadn’t completely demolished the BLU team just hours before. He snaps his mouth shut. Spy’s performance scores are off the charts. Sniper has seen the reports. They all show that Spy had infiltrated the BLU base and made off with their intelligence four times. All by himself.

Calling Spy nutty might be a compliment.

Sniper rubs his temples. While Spy has always been competent on the field, today he’d been a monster. Even when, in the last two hours of the shift, he’d fucked right off. Disappeared for two hours until it was time to punch out. No one had the stones to bring up his disappearance, and by then RED had such an immense lead the BLUs were more or less demoralized enough that the rest of the team managed fine without him.

At the risk of pissing off their newest MVP, Sniper throws up his hands. “Why?”

“I have a secondary objective,” Spy replies, continuing to smoke like nothing’s happened. Like he hadn’t just blown his previous records and kill count out the water. He brushes some ash off from his jacket.

Sniper tracks the whisp of ash. It’s hard to say if it’d been from the cigarettes or battle. Despite all appearances, Spy is more rumpled than usual. His tie is loose. The cuffs of his sleeves are charred. His shoes have dirt and old blood underneath, meaning he hadn’t respawned at all or found time to change into cleaner clothes. Thus far, Sniper has only seen Spy in nothing less than impeccably pressed clothes during their off hours.

He frowns. Spy is eerily frazzled. He looks like a man preparing himself for one hell of a bender while already in one.

Sniper attempts to reel in his irritation. A secondary objective, and telling him this late in the game? He had thought Miss Pauling more courteous than that. “Which is?”

“A secret,” Spy says, throwing him a winsome smile that Sniper looks twice it.

Spy has never smiled at him like that. Doesn’t seem the type to give a smile that looks anything other than smug or self-satisfied.

Sniper has a sudden concerning thought about his contract, and a possible untimely termination.

“Mate,” Sniper says, eyes darting to the nearest window out the workshop, “if RED wants to you to take me out, I’d pay you double to not to do it.”

If someone had asked yesterday about fighting one on one with Spy, he would’ve said his chances of winning—or at least escaping—were decent. Now? After Spy’s casual rampage against the BLUs? Less than he likes.

“What? No. Nothing like that,” Spy says, and then he snorts. “Take you out? No. Maybe. Hm.”

Sniper gives him a look. “...You alright?”

“Fine. Perfectly fine. It’s within our budget. You won’t have to take a pay cut.”

Sniper is unnerved that, on top of everything else, Spy seems to have worked out one of his main concerns about the teleporter.

Sniper sighs. He doesn’t know what else to say, what with Spy so fixated, but for the sake of professional integrity, he offers up his opinion.

“I don't like this new plan of yours. We had a good one. I don't understand why you have to change everything. Especially with the teleporter,” he says. He wants a cigarette for himself, but it seems like Spy is smoking enough to give him a secondhand hit. “It's not like we can plug it into the outlet and have it work.”

“You were saying the job was too easy,” Spy says, grinning, “I'm making it more challenging.”

“What? I've said no such thing. That'd be unprofessional,” Sniper says, baffled, before adding, “And bad luck.”

Spy frowns, deep in thought.

“You haven't said it yet,” he mumbles, rubbing his forehead. The balaclava slips a bit, revealing strands of dark hair, flecked with gray.

Distracted, Sniper stares then glances up at the ceiling, trying to be polite. “Uh. Your mask.”

Spy quickly pulls it back in place. He shakes his head and finally crushes the cigarette filter into the ashtray. He’s either run clean out or is ending his night. Probably both.

“I’m turning in,” Spy says, shrugging off his jacket. He looks down at the fabric, realizing the dirt for the first time. His eyes narrow the more he inspects himself. “I’ll need to prepare some things before leaving.”

“Yeah, no kiddn’,” Sniper says. He pinches the bridge of his nose. “Alright. I’m still not sayin’ yes to this new plan, but once we get to the rendezvous point I want the details. Numbers.”

“Of course,” Spy says, a bit too readily for Sniper’s comfort. “Oh, and I will not be leaving with you. We’ll meet at the hotel.”

“How’re you gettin’ there?”

Spy’s returning smile is now neither winsome nor sly. Just tired and fully rueful. “I suggest getting used to this word; secret.”

Sniper rolls his eyes and leaves the workshop without saying good night.

+++

The hotel is the standard fare for a three-star, except for it’s many stories and windows, near perfect if one needed to spy or snipe into a different building. It’s not as glamorous as Sniper feared it would be. The hotel clerk barely gives him a second look as he hauls his rifle-length suitcases up to the elevators. To his credit, one of the suitcases contains a saxophone, just in case. He waves off the bellhops. Also just in case.

Their shared room is on the fifth floor. Sniper’s briefing had said something about the third floor. He assumes Spy might’ve had a hand in changing it up.

His assumption is correct. When he opens the door to the room, Spy is already inside. Sniper blinks, surprised, but drags the rest of his things in before he shuts the door. He shoots a peeved look Spy’s way. He should really get used to spies suddenly appearing in places where they aren’t expected by now.

As if sensing his annoyance, Spy glances up from the desk. He has a stack of papers sitting in front of him, a pen in hand, and is in the middle of reaching for one of two mugs at the table.

“Coffee?” he asks, holding the mug out for Sniper.

“Oh.” Sniper gives the hotel room a quick once-over. Two double beds. Single bathroom. Desk, apparently already claimed. And lastly, a great window with a very important view. He looks back at Spy. “No thanks, mate. I only drink-”

“It's decaffeinated.”

“Crikey,” Sniper says, a little mollified despite himself. The drive into the city had not been bad, just long. “RED’s dossier on me must be extensive.”

The mug tips as Spy shrugs. “Or I've just happen to notice.”

“Since when?” Sniper reaches over, if only to not have the coffee spill. It seems like Spy hadn’t slept a wink.

Spy’s expression does something complicated—exasperation, mostly—then a flash of surprise when Sniper’s fingers touch his around the mug. “...Not long.”

Sniper grunts. Spy remains silent, which would be a rare blessing, but the mug is making his fingers burn, seeing as Spy has the handle part of it.

“Got it,” Sniper prompts, meaning the coffee, and Spy lets go belatedly. He takes a sip, finds it decent enough, and turns back around to organize his things. “Gonna take a couple of hours to get the lay of the land. You got that teleporter problem of yours sorted yet?”

Spy’s hand flexes into a fist before he reaches into his front pocket. When he brings it out again there’s a pen spinning between his fingers. He sits back down at the desk. “Not yet.”

Sniper holds up three fingers. Three days until the mark shows up then it’s go-time, whether Spy likes it or not. “Don’t know how much time I’m willing to give you.”

“You’ll have to give it,” Spy says and doesn’t offer up any more than that.

Unbelievable. This mission was supposed to be easy money. And, until yesterday, Spy seemed to be alike in thinking the same and hadn’t been too insistent on anything in particular. Certainly not the use of a teleporter. Sniper hadn’t anticipated on Spy being this much of a pain in the arse to work with.

“Listen, I’m not agreeing to this new plan until you give me the paperwork,” Sniper says, sitting on the one empty bed Spy left for him, the one furthest from the window. Thankfully, it suits him fine. “Inventory. Updated timeframes. Split costs.”

Spy looks like he is running a mental list of all the possible things he wants say, none of them polite or agreeable. His lips press into a thin line.

“You have a stick up your ass about this entire thing,” he eventually says, as if that’d been the mildest reply he could give. “The plan remains the same. I will lead the mark to the point, and you will shoot. Not complicated.”

“Me? Stick up my arse? Take a look in the mirror, mate, you-” Sniper halts mid-sentence.

Spy is in his usual button up shirt, minus the jacket, tie, and gloves. He is sipping coffee from a mug, somehow abandoning his careful appearance for something more relaxed. Meanwhile, Sniper is still in his full uniform, hat included, arguing about contract logistics.

Spy laughs, not mentioning the how hypocritical Sniper’s remark had been.

“Go do your reconnaissance,” he says with a sharp smile that says he’s got a winning bet under his belt. He takes a long slurp of coffee. “Take your time. You’ll have your numbers when you come back.”

#wip #tf2 #sniperspy #fic: hindsight #delete later #maybe i've written myself in a corner with this one but i think i will soon simply not care and just finish it off anyway #hindsight is a bit of my sweet baby.. foresight is like my teen son smoking doing drugs in the parking lot of burger king at 3am past curfe

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nightingaelic · 1 year ago

Text

Things that are Now Fallout Canon

(according to the Special LIVE Report from Galaxy News that preceded the Fallout TV series' teaser trailer release on December 2, 2023)

Vault 33, the focus vault of the Fallout television series, is located beneath Santa Monica, California. It's also implied to be very, very expensive to get into.

Bottle and Cappy, the mascots for Nuka-Cola and its theme park, Nuka-World, were about to embark on a seventeen-movie-long series of animated films before the bombs fell.

The sinking of the RMS Titanic happened in Fallout's alternate universe. The news announcer jokes about the world going down like the infamous ship, including the deadly lack of lifeboats.

Camels exist in this universe, too! The news announcer actually fucks this one up, because he says dromedary camels have two humps - dromedary camels have one hump, while Bactrian camels have two. Or maybe we'll get a sound bite from Todd Howard in a few months where he claims the camel breed names are swapped in Fallout, who knows.

Pets were not allowed in the commercially-advertised vaults. The news announcer regrettably informs listeners that they can't bring their cats, dogs, or even fish with them due to logistical concerns and safety hazards, but they are more than welcome to purchase Vault-Tec-branded gravestones and hold pet funerals before they move underground. Hypothetically-speaking, it wouldn't surprise me if people tried to smuggle their animals in, anyway.

Someone stole the Fallout universe's original moon landing flag from the Museum of Technology in Washington, D.C. - another headline report, with no further details. It was in the same exhibit as the Virgo II lunar lander, which stayed put for at least 200 years.

Vault Boy was named "World's Sexiest Man" in 2077 (when the report is being aired) - no word about which publication or organization bestowed this title upon an animated mascot.

Vault-Tec trademarked the thumbs-up emoji in the Fallout universe - which is very much in character for the company, but something about there being emojis in the world at all hit me wrong.

Vault-Tec instituted a "breeder search program" alongside vault placement purchases, and encouraged polyamory to get people to procreate (and buy more vault spots). I'll admit that this one seems plausible but shaky, because by this point in the report the news announcer is losing his mind while stalling for the vault door to open, and he might just be making shit up.

Nuka-Cola ran its own version of the Pizza Hut "BOOK IT!" reading program, called "ZAP IT!" Kids were required to read over 10,000 books to win rewards. If we use picture books for the math, and allow for five minutes to read each book, that's about 833 hours (34 straight days) of reading to get some soda.

Moby-Dick by Herman Melville and the ancient Greek myth of Daedalus and Icarus both exist in the Fallout universe.

Resulting Thoughts

"The ghoul" in the show is possibly named Howard - unsure if that's a first or last name. In the teaser trailer, Walton Goggins (who plays the ghoul) is shown dressed like a Hollywood cowboy on the day of the Great War, riding a horse to try to escape the nuclear bombs that hit Los Angeles with an unidentified child. Meanwhile, the Galaxy News headlines report that a box office hit called "The Man From Deadhorse" is getting a sequel, which is currently filming at California Crest Studios, and the news announcer says the film is "Howard-led." Whether the ghoul is the lead actor, we don't know, but it seems like a solid enough hint at his origins.

I'm glad that the show is going to delve more into the idea of the haves and have-nots, what with vault entrance being both selective and expensive. The most recent games in the series don't talk about this enough, in my opinion.

This isn't specific to the show adaptation, but it's becoming more noticeable to me that the Fallout series is crawling forward in terms of relating to modernity. I'm not sure how to feel about this - for example, I don't really mind if the soundtrack of Fallout 76 features the Beach Boys and other 1960s songs when it used to be strictly limited to 1930s and 40s music. On the other hand, I thought that using a news announcer that sounds more like a modern podcast host than a Transatlantic-accented journalist was an odd choice, and as I said above, I really did not like the idea that pre-war America knows what an emoji is. I'll get over it, but I'm anticipating that there will be some more artistic choices in the adaptation (and future games) that rub me and others the wrong way because they don't fit our definition of what Fallout "is." I'm not saying anything new, people have been arguing about that forever.

Overall, I'm excited. We're probably not getting a new Fallout game until 2030, so I might as well try to enjoy this. I will be keeping my bingo cards handy, though.

Anyway, I transcribed the damn report because I'm very normal. Feel free to use!

Fallout - A Special LIVE Report from Galaxy News

with occasional commentary from yours truly

[An upbeat, strings-led orchestral jingle plays, and black-and-white picture focuses on a spinning, silver globe. The globe is being circled by a vintage toy rocket. The words "GALAXY NEWS" fly in, and are quickly wiped and replaced by script declaring "Vault-Tec Presents..." The picture is circle-wiped and transitions to a high view of a vault entrance, with no visible script or markings to indicate which vault it is. The large, circular vault door is closed, and the access bridge to the door is not connected. A timer counting down from 60 minutes is overlaid in the bottom left corner, just above the Galaxy News globe logo and a signal tower graphic next to the word "LIVE." News headlines scroll along the bottom of the screen, the first of which reads "GALAXY NEWS SIGNS 10-YEAR PARTNERSHIP DEAL WITH VAULT-TEC." The headlines are separated by small lightning bolt graphics. The music continues throughout, and a male news announcer's voice cuts in.]

Good morning! Or, afternoon! Or evening, depending on where in the world you are. If you're just tuning in with us now, you're in for a treat. Welcome to the unveiling of Vault 33, one of the flagship vaults of Vault-Tec's arsenal of vaults.

[The second scrolling headline reads "VAULT-TEC VOTED AMERICAN COMPANY WITH BRIGHTEST FUTURE."]

Galaxy News is here live with an exclusive look at the next generation of apocalypse-proof, purpose-built luxury housing, sponsored by our friends at Vault-Tec. Vault-Tec: Revolutionizing safety for an uncertain future.

[The third scrolling headline reads "ROBCO INTERPLANETARY PROBE PROBES DEEPER INTO SPACE THAN ANY PROBE HAS PROBED BEFORE."]

If you're a regular viewer of our programming, we consider you an astute, engaged citizen, doing your part to stay informed on the latest news impacting this beautiful country of ours, and so it will be no surprise to you that we are on the precipice of a nuclear armageddon. But, fear not, Vault-Tec is building the ultimate shelter-in-place solution for the more doomsday-savvy customer: A veritable ark meticulously designed to weather the geopolitical storm surely headed our way any day now. And for the first time on live broadcast, the fine folks at Vault-Tec will be giving you a tour of their newest product unveiling, from the comfort of your home.

[The announcer takes a break, and the music swells. The vault remains closed, and no activity whatsoever is visible around it. It might as well be a static image. The fourth scrolling headline reads "NUKA-WORLD BREAKS ATTENDANCE RECORD FOR FOURTH STRAIGHT YEAR. GALACTIC ZONE GIVEN CREDIT FOR INCREASED NUMBERS." The initial song ends, and a new strings song with a more staccato rhythm begins. The news announcer returns.]

Welcome, once again, to Vault 33, nestled in the coastal west side of sunny Los Angeles County, and minutes from the yet-to-be-destroyed, bustling downtown promenade. Should nuclear annihilation one day come for this quiet beach-side town, you can take comfort in knowing you are safely buried deep, deep below what numerous trade publications once called "one of the best places to live." Right now, ladies and gentlemen, what you're looking at is peace of mind. Billions and billions of dollars and decades of R&D funneled into the high-grade protection engineering that only Vault-Tec can bring you.

[The fifth scrolling headline reads "WE ASKED OUR VIEWERS TO ANSWER A SIMPLE QUESTION: WHAT IS THE GREATEST NATION ON EARTH AND WHY IS IT AMERICA? HEAR THE RESULTS TONIGHT AT 10PM EST." At this point, the news announcer starts to sound less formal and more excited.]

Aren't we a bunch of lucky ducks! Vault-Tec has tapped us into their closed loop security feed to bring you a sneak peek behind a vault entrance airlock. That large, fortified steel blast door you see there is the only thing standing between you and the rads.

[The sixth scrolling headline reads "UNITED STATES AGAIN ACCUSED OF ATMOSPHERIC COUNTER-ESPIONAGE BY THE REDS."]

Very soon - very soon, I'm told - Arnold? Are we - yeah - and we're very soon, and we're very soon. Very, very soon, I'm told, that gear door will open, and Galaxy News will be on the ground to give you all a walking tour of the facilities! Including the accommodations one might expect in a state-of-the-art, modern residence thanks to a partnership with RobCo Industries and some of your shelf-stable forever favorites like BlamCo and Sugar Bombs! There's nowhere to hide from explosive good taste! Boom!

[The news announcer disappears again, and the strings conclude and are replaced with a meandering clarinet-led number. Several scrolling headlines go by: "U.S. RENEWS DEFENSE CONTRACT WITH WEST TEK, HERALDS VALUE OF POWER ARMOR IN ALL THEATERS OF WAR." "ESPIONAGE THREAT SUBDUED IN DOMESTIC URANIUM MINES." "PRESIDENT DECLARES NUCLEAR STOCKPILE 'SAFE ENOUGH.'" "BULLETIN OF THE ATOMIC SCIENCES SETS DOOMSDAY CLOCK TO HALF A NANOSECOND TO MIDNIGHT." "ATLAS OBSERVATORY CHRISTENS NEW TELESCOPE, RE-COMMITTING TO A NON-VIOLENT PURSUIT OF KNOWLEDGE." The song ends, a new one begins, and the news announcer returns. The vault still hasn't opened, and he's dropped what was left of his professional tone.]

And we are... stalled out. We're still... having technical difficulties. You know, sometimes things go bad and there's just no way you can plan. It's kind of like what's happening with the world right now, there's no way you could've been born into the world and know how you were going to end - know how the world would end. How will the world end, in fire or in ice? Well, it turns out -

[laughter]

It turns out it's gonna be fire...

[The twelfth scrolling headline reads "CHRISTMAS TOY TRENDS: RETAILERS REPORT SHORTAGE OF POWER ARMOR FIGURINES."]

Arnold! What's that? Okay. Yes.

[sound of paper pages being flipped through]

Okay. Arnold just handed me a fun fact. We're gonna do fun facts, fun facts.

[The thirteenth scrolling headline reads "NUKA-COLA QUANTUM GETS FDA APPROVAL, FOUND TO CONTAIN 'HEALTHY AMOUNT OF RADIATION."]

Fun fact about the construction of these massive vaults: They use concrete. Hm. That hardly counts as a fun fact, Arnold. Now is there an update on when the door... the door's gonna be open? Arnold? I'm sorry, is there an update on the door? Is there an update on the crane? Is it a crane problem, or a door problem? Is it a pr- is it a crane problem, or a door problem? Arnold? Arnold! Arnie!

[sigh]

Okay...

[The news announcer gives up, and a song with a lot of muted trumpet comes in to serenade more scrolling headlines. "NO ONE'S BEATING THIS DEADHORSE. 'THE MAN FROM DEADHORSE' TOPS BOX OFFICE. A SEQUEL IS ALREADY IN THE WORKS AT CALIFORNIA CREST STUDIOS." "ATLAS WEATHER EXPERIMENT BELIEVED TO BE THE CAUSE OF UNEXPECTED SNOW FLURRY IN LOS ANGELES." "DEVELOPING: REDS CONTINUES TO DENY EXISTENCE OF STEALTH SUBMARINES, US INTELLIGENCE SUGGESTS OTHERWISE." Woodwinds replace the trumpet, and the news announcer returns, pivoting to an unrehearsed sales pitch for his sponsor.]

If you have the money, please - please, guys - get a Vault-Tec vault. Get in there! Think of it as a life raft, a bit. Our country is the Titanic, and these vaults are the life rafts - right? - attached to the side of it.

[The seventeenth scrolling headline reads "NUKA-COLA MASCOTS 'BOTTLE AND CAPPY' TO APPEAR IN ANIMATED FILM FROM CALIFORNIA CREST STUDIOS. WILL BE THE FIRST IN A SEVENTEEN PICTURE DEAL BETWEEN THE COMPANIES."]

Now, were there enough life rafts on the Titanic? If you remember - no, no there weren't enough, and so many, many people died, and so, it's a nice allegory actually, because they're not going to die in the freezing ocean, which would be - actually, it's a little faster to die by fire than it is by drowning in the cold, so it is kind of an advantage to be dying now, th- rather than on the Titanic, the RMS Titanic.

[The eighteenth scrolling headline reads "SUPPLY LINES FOR RED FORCES BREAKING DOWN." Sort of like this announcer. He pivots again.]

Now - can you call a survivor of a nuclear holocaust a person, anymore? I don't know. Their brain is going to be cottage cheese, and they will be crawling... crawling on the ground, stuffing sand in their mouth, their blind eyes melted out, like the white of an egg, just dripping and dribbling out of their eye sockets.

[The nineteenth scrolling headline reads "VAULT-TEC ANNOUNCES COMPLETION OF VAULT 33 UNDER SANTA MONICA, CA."]

They raise their face towards their... god... and scream, "Nooooo! Whyyyyyy! What did it all mean?" It turns out it didn't mean much if you didn't get a spot in a Vault-Tec vault."

[The twentieth scrolling headline reads "MILITARY UNITS SENT TO QUELL UNREST IN SEVERAL STATES."]

"Now, let's talk about the luxury interiors of Vault-Tec vaults. We have camel leather. You've heard of cow leather. Probably. Camel leather is a great deal softer, isn't it? It comes from the camel, who keep their water on their backs in a hump. Sometimes two, if they're a dromedary. Now, let's talk about camel leather and why it is more supple, and why it is cooler to the touch, and we can talk about it forever but what you want is luxury, what you need is safety: Where you go is Vault-Tec. That's it.

[I feel like I need to point out that dromedary camels only have one hump, and no camels store water in their humps: It's actually just fat up there that they can live off of while traversing deserts. Regardless, the announcer is gone again. The scrolling headlines remain. "NUKA CORP SPINS OFF ATOMIC RESEARCH ARM INTO SEPARATE CORPORATE ENTITY AFTER SEC APPROV." "SUPER DUPER MART ANNOUNCES RECALL OF BLAMCO MAC & CHEESE FOR TRACE AMOUNTS OF DAIRY." "VAULT-TEC STOCKS SOAR AS US ECONOMY BECOMES FEAR-BASED." "BUREAU OF ALCOHOL, TOBACCO, FIREARMS AND LASERS TAKE DOWN NATIONWIDE WEAPONS SMUGGLING RING." Another woodwind-heavy song starts up, and so does our announcer.]

Um... Arnold?

[throat clearing]

Arnie! Can we- do- do we have a- can we start a clock? Can we - is there, like, anything we can do? I feel like people need something to hold onto, there's a lot of empty air. There's a lot of dead air, here. People need something to hold onto, people are freaking out, and I'm freaking out because I like to have - I like to bring people comfort - uh, in, in this crazy time. There's, there's only a few things you can predict -

[laughter]

In - in the world, and uh, I thought that opening the vault on time would be one of those things.

[The twenty-fifth scrolling headline reads "MILITARY SETS THREAT LEVEL OF POSSIBLE BIOLOGICAL WEAPON ATTACK FROM REDS TO HIGH."]

I was kind of counting on it as a - a thing that would bring some amount of normalcy, some amount of comfort. Something happening the way it's supposed to in a world that feels like it has been turned upside down by evil. But, unfortunately that is not the case. Here we are. Another thing we don't know. Another thing we have to grapple with.

[The twenty-sixth scrolling headline reads "TEDDY FEAR MANUFACTURER SETTLES CLASS ACTION LAWSUIT, DENIES TOY BEAR CAUSES SLEEP PARALYSIS NIGHTMARES IN CHILDREN."]

This particular vault and these technical difficulties that we're having right now have absolutely nothing to do with the product that you will buy when you buy a Vault-Tec vault. Now, Vault-Tec vault living is living the dream, and it's the only way to safety unless you're... the President of the United States, or something like that, and you have a mountain in Colorado to go under and direct the events of the world. Not many of us are that, there's only one of those... uh, and his various and sundry advisors, I'm sure they'll be fine, but you won't! You won't be fine!

[The twenty-seventh scrolling headline reads "WERE TEDDY FEAR BEARS MISUNDERSTOOD? ONE PSYCHOLOGIST THINKS SO."]

If a vault is out of your price range, there are lower-cost alternatives to purchasing a spot with Vault-Tec. They don't sound... good, if you ask me. Anti-radiation pills? Good luck with that. Not sure how anti-radiation pills will hold up against temperatures rivaling the surface of the sun, for example. But maybe that's just me!

[He's gone again. We're 15 minutes into the countdown, and the woodwinds have really started to outdo their own whimsy, at this point. Headlines continue. "TEDDY FEARS SKYROCKET IN POPULARITY AND PRICE DUE TO SCARCITY CAUSED BY RECALL." "VAULT-TEC ANNOUNCES NEWLY AVAILABLE SINGLE VAULT SPACES FOR SALE." "THIS YEAR'S FALLOUT SUIT DESIGN FEATURES ENHANCED PROTECTION, 20% MORE ZIPPERS." The whimsical woodwinds finish up and a bouncy, brassy horn piece takes over. This summons the announcer.]

When you see that vault, it's all gonna be worth it, fellas. It's all gonna be worth it when you see that vault. Now kids, you're probably wondering: Can I bring my pet doggy, or my pet kitty, into the vault? You can't. Unfortunately... it's a hazard in so many different ways. Uh... tch, uh, their hair can get caught in the ventilation system, you'll have endless problems, where do you put their waste? Where do you put... their food? So many, so many problems, so... we have specially-made Vault-Tec gravestones.

[The thirty-first scrolling headline reads "VIRGO II LUNAR LANDER NOW ON DISPLAY AT MUSEUM OF TECHNOLOGY IN WASHINGTON, D.C."]

We have specially-made Vault-Tec pet gravestones for your children to have many funerals for their pets before you go into your Vault-Tec vault. Memorialize your pets now with Vault-Tec mini pet gravestones! Dig a hole in the sand, put the pet in there, and put that gravestone - and it's got a space where you can write the pet's name - right before you go in the vault, no pets in the vault. Not even fish. No, not even fish.

[The thirty-second scrolling headline reads "FLAG FROM VIRGO II LUNAR LANDING STOLEN FROM MUSEUM OF TECHNOLOGY." The news announcer is really getting aggravated.]

What is happening? What is - Arnie! What is - what is happening? Okay - okay! Alright!

[The music and the headlines fill the space again. "NUKA-WORLD TO RAISE TICKET PRICES FOR UPCOMING SEASON, EXPECTING AN 'EXPLOSIVE' YEAR." "GWINNETT ANNOUNCES NEW PALE ALE SO PALE IT'S TRANSPARENT." "HAPPY NATIONAL SOCK HOP DAY!" "VAULT BOY NAMED WORLD'S SEXIEST MAN." The news announcer tries again, attempting to play up the complete inactivity happening onscreen.]

So much is happening here, we've got... the crane, as you can see, it's - it's about to be lowered, and I'm told - and I'm told... the weather. The inclement weather is - keep - I think the weather... there's a pressure cha- it needs to be - yes, of course. The pressure needs to be right to open the vault, or else the differential pressure between underground and overground will cause... a, uh... uh, the furniture to, uh...

[The thirty-seventh scrolling headline reads "VAULT-TEC REGISTERS TRADEMARK ON THE THUMBS UP EMOJI." This one made me physically recoil.]

L- Look... get a Vault-Tec vault. If you can't afford a whole vault for your family, that's fine. Buy time in a timeshare, one of our timeshares. And it's not the kind of timeshare you're going to regret, this is one that's not a scam, because you can look down at your intact body in a Vault-Tec vault and say, "Look at me! I'm whole!"

[The thirty-eighth scrolling headline reads "NUKA-COLA PATRIOTICALLY SALUTES SUCCESS OF NEWEST FLAVOR LAUNCH - NUKA-COLA VICTORY. EXCLUSIVE REDESIGN COMING NEXT YEAR WITH 'A TASTE AS SWEET AS FREEDOM.'"]

Stay whole in a Vault-Tec vault! Keep it together, meaning your corporeal form! Keep it together in a Vault-Tec vault! You'll be skipping around in a workout area, and... check out those barbells! Why not work those biceps while you're down here? What if there's an emergency, and somebody breaches your Vault-Tec vault door? Well, you're gonna want to be in shape to fight off that rageful beast!

[At this point the scrolling headlines loop back to the beginning.]

Now, is it a human? If you kill it, will its soul go to heaven or hell? Don't worry about it! Just get it out, because even its presence in your Vault-Tec vault could kill you and your entire family! These people are irradiated. It's not healthy, right? It's like putting your hand on a radiator. Don't do it.

[Music break. That vault still isn't opening. The song ends, and the news announcer clears his throat.]

We don't... have the exact scoop yet, ladies and gentlemen, so Arnie, why don't we put some music on while we wait for the skinny?

[noticeable pause]

I- I- I- I- don't know what song, put on anything, I'm dying up here.

[The next song opens with energetic trumpets that sound like they're charging through a movie theater snack stand. It's followed by a big band track that seems to re-energize the announcer.]

And, if you're just joining us, we're preparing to head inside the latest and greatest product offering from Vault-Tec. Vault 33, a pristine subterranean society purpose-built for America's best and brightest to wait out the nuclear fallout. There's no telling what will remain once this global conflict reaches its inevitable conclusion: That's why it's important for patriots like you to purchase a guaranteed spot in America's future. It's up to you to keep our golden society going, propagating forth until we have the ranks to repopulate the world outside.

"What if I don't have a partner or family right now?" you may be asking. "Don't give up on love so soon!" I say. Where better to meet eligible partners than in a cherry-picked community of like-minded individuals? If you find you need a bit more assistance, Vault-Tec has breeder search programs to help you find the one, or the two, or the three, four, five! Vault-Tec is a very open society, so go ahead and purchase that single vault space, and that single may become a double before you know it! And what better place to find someone to love, than safe underground?

Please stay tuned as we prepare to bring the crew, and the world at large, inside our Vault-Tec facility.

"But what if I don't have the money for a vault right now?" you may be thinking. You should never let not having the funds today stop you from reaching your dreams. You can always pay tomorrow, into perpetuity. Vault-Tec is reportedly constructing financial packages that allow for customers to continue payments on select economy vaults, in the event of total societal extinction. So don't worry, purchase away! Vault-Tec upholds traditional American values, and they believe no one should be excluded from the pursuit of life, liberty, and debt.

[Music break, wherein the song concludes and switches to something more pensive and staccato.]

A- Alright? Yes? Arnold is telling me - yes? We are moments away! Moments away - from having some kind of movement here. I'll believe that when I see it. Sorry Arnie, but your credibility with me could not be any lower at this point.

Let's talk about the amenities in these concrete miracles. Radiation King will be providing television sets, modern kitchen appliances.

[throat clearing]

The sofas will be... I'm sorry, do we know who makes the sofas? I'm sorry, do we - do we know who makes the sofas? Do we know who makes the sofas? Arnold, do we know who makes the sofas?

[Arnold does not reply. The announcer is miffed.]

What else is new. Yeah.

[Dejection turns to anger immediately.]

If you could please just give me something? If you could please just give me something to update? I'm sitting here with nothing! I'm sitting here... with nothing! This isn't my job! I'm a journalist! I report things, I don't... vamp! Is there even a - is, is there a clue? Is there, do the crane people - have the crane people chimed in? Have the door people chimed in? Is it all one person?

[Arnold presumably says some inaudible form of "I don't know." This does not please the news announcer.]

Well maybe con- maybe connect yourself to them. You should get yourself a radio. Get yourself a radio, Arnold. That's your job, to communicate with me the facts about what's going on, and it's my job to communicate to the people who are watching - we're trying to save their lives - you know, and this isn't advertising for me. This is a product I believe in!

Arnold, what do you do? What skills do you - are you somebody's son? Are you - are you somebody's kid, or something?

[Arnold can finally be heard, somewhat garbled from distance or technology: "My uncle is, uh, is the general manager of Galaxy News, your employer." The news announcer considers this.]

Your uncle is the manager of Galaxy New - mmm. Well, that explains how you got this internship. I'm sorry for everything I said, but... you can understand my frustration, here.

[The music concludes, but the announcer keeps going.]

The, uh, vault foreman is out here, and he is, uh, uh, doing hand signals. Ooh, yes, it's going to be a while, let's play some music for the people, Arnie.

[A new song starts. We're nearly 30 minutes into the countdown before the song switches over and the news announcer starts up again.]

All right folks, we have an update! They've got eyes on the gatekeeper out walking the grounds. It appears he was attempting to retrace his steps after misplacing the key and his wallet - still no word on the key itself, please stand by for more on the wallet, as this story continues to unfold.

Still on standby as we wait for the situation in the vault to resolve, but folks, there is plenty to get the American public up to speed on in the meantime. World news stories! Breaking, breaking news from the international desk. Peace negotiations between America and her adversaries crumbled in Anchorage, Alaska, this past weekend, a city recently liberated from foreign occupation, leading experts to believe nuclear war is indeed on the horizon. One more reason, America, to tune into the presentation Vault-Tec has for us today. Preparation, resilience, and smart spending are the only way our precious republic makes it through that long, dark night.

[This revelation approximates the date of the broadcast, which is happening not long after the Battle of Anchorage. The clash in Alaska officially ended on January 10, 2077: This news bulletin proves that attempted peace negotiations followed, then failed.]

Going the way of the dinosaurs has never felt this fun! If only the dinosaurs had Vault-Tec technology. Now, the dinosaurs died because... a meteor came from space, right? They had nothing to do with it. We have everything to do with our own demise. It's almost like… people are a virus that is destroying the Earth, we're a planet-killing virus. And people do say, "Oh, well, you know, well, the cockroaches... will outlive us and the the aardvarks or whatever will outlive us." Well, they won't. They're going to die too, because this is the real deal, guys. This is the end. So if you're not underground, I don't know what you're doing.

I wonder how we'll evolve. Will we develop a different kind of skin, some kind of leathery, plastic skin to fight off the nuclear fire? Who knows, but the only way to find out is to purchase a Vault-Tec vault, or a space in one of our timeshares.

[Music break again. It's a rather lively waltz.]

For those gathered around their Radiation King TV sets today, thank you for your patience. Rome wasn't built in a day!

[laughter]

Very soon you will witness… one of the greatest modern advances since the Virgo II moon landing - you won't want to miss this, the future of you and your future children depends on it.

[Exasperation sets in.]

Honestly, who wrote this copy?

[Arnold presumably raises his hand.]

You did, Arnold? Well, that's not surprising. It leaves… yes, well, it leaves a lot to be desired. They couldn't hire a professional writer? You look like you're 15 years old.

[Arnold inaudibly corrects him.]

You're 23? Yeah, well, 23-year-olds look like they're 15 now, still too young. What could you know about the - what could you possibly know about the written word, Arnold? Goddamn it. What could you - what do you know about writing and oratory? Nothing, I'll answer y- for you, nothing. The lack of professionalism - myself not included - disgusts me. The lack of professionalism disgusts me, Arnold!

Speaking of nuclear fire, you should see the muffin tray they left out for me. People want a blueberry mu- you want a muffin, okay? A muffin. Not a little squirt of dough, with a little powdered su- give me a muffin, give me a real thing, okay? Give me some snacks! You're going to give me some coffee? Good. I need a snack, to balance it. I'm not the only person in the world who needs a little bit of fat in their stomach when they eat a... big haul of caffeine.

[throat clearing]

Stand by as we wait for the situation in the vault to resolve.

[The music does some flourishes, then finishes.]

Ladies and gentlemen, it's official: We're experiencing some technical difficulties. And before we can open the vault - Vault 33, our flagship vault, full of the, uh, finest luxury items available to mankind, a- as of now - maybe we could put something on to keep people company while we figure out the technical difficulties. Sorry, these difficulties of course have nothing to do with Vault-Tec's vault tech. In- in- indeed…

Look, I need to have a whole cigarette right now. Just put on the song. Where are my smokes?

[The music starts up again while the announcer burns through a cigarette at the speed of a Corvega.]

Well, well, well! Here we are again! Ladies and gentlemen, we're dealing with a hiccup. Now, hiccups... might seem like a momentary stoppage, but this is a big hiccup. It's like God is hiccuping.

Vault-Tec is reporting that there's only one gatekeeper and one key on this vault model. The keys for these vaults are one of one, it fits like a glove, but it's - it's - these - these locks are very, very complicated.

God, it's so good to be on the other side of this. I don't think people know. People really don't know what's coming, and that's probably good. If you haven't watched… if you haven't watched the news up to this point, don't pick it up. Don't… just try and stay ignorant, uh, really don't find out what's going to happen because… it's bad, um, it's over.

[laughter]

The Earth is a slaughterhouse, and we are cattle!

[laughter]

We- we'll go back into, uh, a society resembling Bronze Age Mesopotamia. That's where we're going. It's not fun. Um... disease is… really prominent, um… we don't treat women well - let's just face it, it's - they - we don't treat them well now, but back then… oof. Rough. Rough treatment of women. You think we're racist now?

It's going to get bad. Where you want to be is underground. Vault-Tec vaults.

[A really tinny muted trumpet rises to its occasion as he disappears again for a bit.]

You know what else is great about Vault-Tec vaults? The air purification system. Let's talk about air. You need air to breathe, I need air to breathe, we need air to breathe. Vault-Tec's got it in spades! We've got oxygen candles straight from our finest nuclear submarines that you can burn, that turn nitrogen and carbon dioxide into oxygen molecules. Perfectly breathable, perfectly safe for your children, and your children's children, and your children's children's children in case we're there for three sweaty generations of sweaty living underground! In a fresh vault!

In fact, we put a family in a vault for 10 years and let them out just to see how it would go… and here they are now! "We loved it, uh… We loved it! That was great!" Uh… that's - I'm making it up! I'm making that up. I am imagining what could happen if I had more information about the vaults, but I don't have that information, so I'm making it up! Ha! Vault-Tec vaults, yes. Say yes to the tech!

[The music saves us for a bit.]

Unfortunately, we are back, the vault hasn't opened, and we have had absolutely no movement towards the vault opening, so! Hope you enjoyed that music. I know I was tapping my feet. Let's get back into it, where are we?

The US government has been quietly testing T-60 power armor suits as part of their long-standing defense contract with West Tek, following up the T-45 and T-51 efforts in the ongoing war with the People's Liberation Army.

[hisses through teeth]

How about that? How about that. The Man from Deadhorse gallops to a fast start at the box office! The Howard-led western is said to be the next smash for California Crest Studios.

[So the ghoul's name is probably Howard Something, or Something Howard. Interesting, but the announcer doesn't care and decides to throw another tantrum.]

Am I crazy or is this taking forever? I don't think I'm crazy, but I feel crazy! In fact, I might be the only person involved in this whole production who hasn't lost his mind! I'm looking at you, Arnie, I'm looking at you!

[Looking at Arnie yields nothing, again.]

"You don't know what to do, you don't know what to do." You idiot! I can't even get the word- I can't even get the information from you. Worthless!

[grunt of rage]

It's just me and Arnie here, I'm in hell, he's sitting there smiling at me, I'm in absolute hell!

Do you have a spot, Arnie? Do you have a spot in a vault? Oh! You do! What vault is that?

[long pause]

Oh, that's the one I'm in. Oh. Dear God.

[deep breath]

I guess we should get to know each other.

Ladies and gentlemen, we don't even know what's wrong here… but I can assure you that what isn't wrong is Vault-Tec technology, this has nothing to do with Vault-Tec's patented lock technology and everything to do with stupid people and human error. If you're this inefficient at work, what is home li- do - how do you wipe yourself?

[Uncalled-for, news announcer man.]

Ladies and gentlemen, please enjoy this music while we figure out what's going on.

[Musical break number who knows. Just over 11 minutes remain on the countdown.]

In other sponsored news, Nuka-Cola is celebrating the success of one of their newest flavor launches, Nuka-Cola Victory, with an exclusive redesign release later next year. Students that read over 10,000 books can be part of the ZAP IT! Program, rewarding literacy with sugar!

[deep breath]

I don't like Nuka-Cola. Personally... I don't like Nuka-Cola. Too sweet. I don't drink it. But it's popular, I have stocks in it, I invest - I invest in it. I don't drink it. It's the way the world is. Just because it's popular, doesn't mean it's good, just because it's good, doesn't mean it's popular. A can of Nuka-Cola, what is that, it's energy slowed down, right? It's the energy of the universe slowed down, right? What are we, what am I? We are energy slowed down into the form of a human being. All that's about to stop.

[laughter]

All that's about to stop! All that's about to go away! Maybe there's life on other planets. Maybe there's not. Are they going to come save us, no! If I were on another planet, and I came here, I would have an endless belly laugh at our folly, I mean, the folly of man! It's funny, there's so much written about the "folly of man." I mean, read Moby-Dick. Read… uh… what di- what happened with the - the wax wings, the wax wing guy? Wax wing man, Mr. Wax Wings, Daedalus. What's his name?

[Arnold hazards a guess we can hear: "Shakespeare?"]

Arnold, Shakespeare? Arnold, Arnold, good god… Shakespeare? Where did you go - you went to one of these hippie schools...

[Arnold tries again: "I think it was Icarus?" The announcer is ecstatic.]

Icarus! Icarus. Wow! You are good for something. Wow, Arnie!

Now, Icarus, he was close to the sun. In a Vault-Tec vault, you'll be as far from it as possible. You will be up to 50 feet underground, in a Vault-Tec vault, safe and sound in the knowledge that the wax on your wings will not be anywhere close to anything that will make it melt, except our new Vault-Tec oven!

[The horns come in again.]

Where are you f- what's your family situation? Do you have kids or…

[Arnold probably shakes his head.]

No kids? Good for you.

[laughter]

Are you single?

[Arnold: "Yeah."]

Ahh, yeah. I wouldn't recommend going into a vault single. You might want to lock someone down and take you in there - if only to help you fight - and, uh, survive, it's good to have a partner. Yeah… oof!

Anyway, glad I'm safe and secure in my vault! Um… I'm in the tax bracket that kind of... automatically gets a vault, so, sorry everybody. Uh… I'll be, uh, doing this thing called surviving, while you are all burning.

[deep breath]

What's the point of any of this? What's the point of any of this? Nobody - nobody listening to this can afford one of these things. Everybody listening to this is about to turn into an idea!

[laughter]

Instead of a being! But, here we are! Let's whoop it up! Let's whoop it up! It's a big parade… for the end of mankind! It's a big parade! Here's the final celebration, Arnie! Here we are!

Let's stake our claim in a dying planet! Let's plant our flag in a dead rock, and see how we feel. Let's see how we feel after the flag is planted, Arnie.

[a deep sigh]

I don't know how much longer I can do this, man.

[another deep breath]

My voice hurts, I'm thirsty, we're out of water, the muffins they laid out at the top of the day are dry and old, I feel dry and I feel old.

I give up! I give up.

[chuckles]

What's the point of this? I mean, what's the point of anything? I'm... I'm broken.

[Emotion creeps in.]

I'm broken. I'm changed. I am broken and I have changed. I…

[one more deep breath]

Thanks to you, Arnie. Thanks to you, man. Thanks, you're the best, yeah, thanks to you, pal. Thanks to you, buddy boy. You are just awful. You disgust me. Yeah, I'm just - I'm sorry. I'm - I'm just… I'm fried, man. I'm - I'm fried, pal. I'm fried. Dead. Gravestone, dead. Oh yeah, that's, okay.

Oh, god. Where are we in the process of the door opening?

[Arnold: "Yeah, it's over."]

What?

[A record scratch stops the music. Two minutes remain on the countdown.]

What's that? Oh!

[The announcer clears his throat, and the music changes to a triumphant fanfare.]

Ladies and gentlemen, I'm getting word. Ladies and gentlemen... I've gotten word that we are star- we are starting, ladies and gentlemen. It's happening! Here we are! Here we are, we got it, we got it, and now…

N- and now, this afternoon is unlike any other afternoon, ladies and gentlemen. It was the morning, now it's the afternoon - here we go! The crane is loweri- Here we go!

[relieved laughter]

Okay! Really close to the time where I can go, and get out of here! The crane is lowering, it is happening, the tumblers are tumbling! The crane is lowering, the tumblers are tumbling, we are… go! We're going! It's opening! It's opening!

[The static image of the vault has not changed in the slightest bit.]

You try doing this! You try doing this, Arnie! You try filling the time! Next time we'll switch places, Arnie, and you can try it! Oh boy, oh boy, here we go, thank god we're doing it and it's happening. I see motion, I see- I see Vault-Tec… I am convinced! Guys, this is great, it's been great, Arnie? It's been great. Arnie, it's been great. You know, I hope we are in the same vault. I'd like to spend the rest of my life with you, Arnie.

[slightly unhinged laughter]

As long as this happens right now, I am fine with spending the rest of my life with you! As long as the vault opens right now. The fact that nuclear fire could fall from the sky at any moment has made this broadcast that much more important. Thank you, thank you so much for joining us!

#fallout #fallout tv show #fotv #the ghoul #galaxy news #prime video #amazon

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