#this is my last week on their study and they are royal fucking pricks

[littlemourningstarr]

Wanna work on my fic- have to go to this stupid meeting instead 💀

[eleanorbloom]

When You’re Ready Ch. 10

Pairing: Bryce Lahela x f! MC (Eleanor Bloom) x Ethan Ramsey.

Word Count: 5.3k (Sorry!!!)

Warning: Innuendos at the beginning, then, just angst and a bit of cursing.

A/N: Yes, I’m sorry. Today’s chapter is the longest I’ve done so far, but it’s worth it (at least to me) because is about my babyyyy. Things are going to get harder from now on, so I’m excited for the upcoming chapters!! I hope you enjoy the angst because there’s more to come. Hehe.

A/N2: I’m gonna post some One Shots for Kinktober, so I was wondering if anyone wants to be tagged? It will be BrycexEleanor and DrakexMC from The Royal Romance. I’ve never published anything for TRR but I’m planning to write something in the future. Meanwhile, I’ll exercise with some smut muahaha. So let me know if you wanna be tagged 😏

Taglist @utterlyinevitable @binny1985 @shanzay44 @choicesficwriterscreations @laiba-the-person @starrystarrytrouble @lahellacute @lucy-268​ @aylamreads @cinnamonspongecake @romewritingshop @angela8756

_______

Chapter 10: Stay.

Funny you’re the broken one

But I’m the only one who needed saving.

 “Is that Raf?”—Eleanor raised her head from Bryce’s chest and stared at the ceiling, trying to prick up her ear.

At the distance, it was heard a deep voice in the middle of a mix of laughter.

“Yeah, that’s totally him.”

“What is he doing here so early?”

“Early?”—He chuckled—"It’s midday, babe.”

“Midday?!”—She grabbed her phone from the nightstand and checked. It was 12.10.—"And how we slept through all morning?”

“We stayed up late, don’t you remember? I think we got here like 3 am and then you just couldn’t shut up about how mad you were because Ramsey is being irrational about the influencer girl.”

“Oh, right. Drunken rant.”—Her cheeks blushed—“I’m sorry”

“Why are you sorry?”

“For making you hear all this crap when probably I ranted all night at Donahue’s about it.”

“Actually, you were just pissed off that Ramsey was mad at you, but when we got here you said the real stuff.”

“Like what?”

“Like you think that Ramsey is suspecting about your relationship with me and he’s taking it on you. He’s mad because you went behind his back with the Gwyneth thing, obviously, but he has contained his rage for weeks, and now he’s just… exploding.”

“Oh, fuck, you’re right, I did say that—She covered her face with both hands—"God, I’m so stupid.”

“Why? I think you’re right. He’s been acting like an ass with me this whole time too, he looks at me like I’m a piece of garbage or something.”

“But it’s really unprofessional that he is taking a work issue to an extreme just because he is what? Jealous? Mad that I’m getting over him? It’s very inconsistent of him.”

“Yes, it is. Are you going to do something about it?”

“Like what?”

“Like talk to him, tell him to stop,, that he shouldn’t take it on you at work just because he’s jealous.”

“I… I don’t know, I wouldn’t like to mix things, maybe I’m wrong.”

“You’re not wrong, Elle. You can’t let him be this ass with you, much less affect your work.”

Bryce saw how her head inside was spinning around, and her hands tensed over his rib cage.

“Just think about it.”—He added, stroking her hair comfortingly—"Don’t think for a second this is your fault, ‘cause it’s not. He made his choice in the first place.”

“I know…”

Eleanor leaned on her elbow to look at him in the eyes, smiling faintly at him.

“Thank you for being so understanding”

Bryce smiled back and then caressed her cheek while his eyes were expressing tenderness and protection.

She nuzzled into his soft chest losing herself into the sweet scent from his neck.

“Let’s focus on something less stressing and boring instead”—She whispered, lovingly.

“Like what?”—He asked tantalizingly roaming his hands through her back.

“Like the fact that I’m finally waking up with you.”

“Aw, you woke up really sugary today, uh?”

“Don’t you like it?”—She asked seriously.

“I have sweet tooth just because of you.”

“Awwww”—Eleanor encircled her arms around his neck pulling him down to her lips.—“You’re saying I’m sugary, but you just gave me a diabetic coma.”

“And I am having constipation ‘cause you, Eleanor Bloom, are being too cheesy.”

She burst out laughing, resonating in the whole apartment.

“Bryce! You’re impossible.”

“And you are impopsicle, babe.”—Before she could retort anything, he caught her lips into his, his hands travelling slowly down her bum. He deepened the kiss the moment she opened her mouth in a sigh.

“Do we have time for a quickie before getting ready for the concert?”

“Is it me or you’re doubting about your timing skills?”

“No, I’m just asking for consent.”

“We are wasting precious seconds, Dr. Lahela.”

Both chuckled before Eleanor pushed him against the bed and climbed on top of him, the sheets falling and pooling behind her, exposing her bare body.

“Sweet, sweet cowgirl ride me till the end of the world if you want”

Eleanor laughed hard again.

“Yeehaw!”—She joked between laughs.

This time it took like two minutes to make her stop. It would have been more if it weren’t for Bryce, who replaced her laughs for other more improper exclamations  that soon had to be hushed too.

By the time Bryce and Eleanor appeared in the living room, all their friends were ready for the Music Festival Eleanor had invited them, courtesy of her patient, Gwyneth Monroe. After a quick chat, they all headed to Cambridge, excited for the new adventure.

The group spent the afternoon eating, drinking, playing lawn games and, of course, enjoying the music. At some point, they split when Eleanor, Kyra, and Aurora decided to see an art exposition while Bryce, Elijah, and Jackie joined Sienna to see an indie band she had been fangirling all afternoon.

Once the group met again, an hour later, it didn’t take long for Bryce and Eleanor to get lost in the crowd, enjoying the music while savoring the moment alone in the open air.

The sun was about to set when Bryce felt his phone buzzing. As he pulled it out of his pocket the letters froze him. He ended the call and saw 10 missing calls and a lot of messages in the notification bar.

“Bryce, where are you?”

“I’m outside your apartment.”

“Bryce, please answer me! Are you at work?”

Eleanor stared at him worried, sensing his nervousness.

“Is everything alright?”

“I… I have to go.”

“Why? What happened?”

“Nothing, I just remembered tomorrow I have a really difficult surgery and I need to study up.”

“Okay.”—Her brows knitted, suspicious.

He kissed her quickly and turned to leave, but she caught his wrist before he could get lost in the crowd.

“Bryce!”

“What?”—He replied, trying to hide the fear that was invading him just right.

“If something wrong you can tell me, you know that, right?”

“Yeah.”

He smiled faintly and gave her one last kiss before walking out of the crowd.

He didn’t know how he reached the parking lot and got in the car, his hands were trembling and a knot of anxious had settled in his stomach. He pulled the phone out and called back.

“Bryce!”—He heard on the other end of the line—"God, I’ve been trying to reach you for hours, where are you?!”

“Keiki, what’s going on? How is that that you’re in Boston?”

“I’ll explain later, are you coming?”

“Yeah, I’ll be there in forty.”

“Hurry up, I’m bored to death here.”

When he got to his floor, she found a tall girl in a red leather jacket sitting against his door, a backpack between her legs. He barely recognized her, even if he had seen dozens of pictures of her on her social networks. She was a teenager now, not the little girl that said goodbye to him with tears in her eyes when he left for college.

“Keiki”

“Bryce”—She said getting up from the floor. He opened the door a few moments later and both got in.

“Can you explain to me now what you are doing here?”

“Hey, bro, I’m glad to see you too.”—She ironized—“Thanks for the kind welcoming.”

“Keiki, please.”

“I ran away from home, okay?”

“You what?”

“I don’t wanna live there anymore.”

“Keiki, you can’t do that”

“Why not? You did it.”

“I went for college…”—He replied, feeling the guilt sharpening inside him.

“Yes, and then you never came back because you couldn’t stand our parents. It’s the same with me.”

“That doesn’t excuse that you escaped from home and underage. Do you have a plan? Or you’ll just wait until they come here to take you back and maybe they will report me for child kidnap?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Bryce. They wouldn’t that.”

“Still this isn’t right, Keiki. It could’ve happened something to you on your way here.”

“Yeah, but it would have been worth it if it means not spend another second in Maui.”

Bryce looked at her, intrigued. He couldn’t understand how things were bad for her if she had everything she wanted back in Hawai. A room the size of his apartment, all the clothes she wanted, and millions of things to do. But that was enough? He knew well it wasn’t.

“Can I stay with you?”

“Of course, Keiki, but you’ll go back tomorrow. Call mom to know if she can buy you a ticket flight back, I’m not sure I have the money for that.”

“Don’t you understand? I’m not coming back there, Bryce. Period.”

He shook his head and sighed. It was impossible to reason with her, and he knew it wouldn’t get anything by pushing her even more.

“Call her to let her know you’re here, then.”

“I bet she already knows.”

She seated on the couch, looking at him defiantly. He just ignored her act.

“Have you eaten something?”

“Some Doritos I bought around the corner.”

“What do you want to eat? I’m calling a delivery.”

“You don’t cook? I want real food, Bryce.”

“I’m a surgeon, not a chef, Keiki”

“Either way, you should know how to feed yourself by now, how you have survived all these years?”

“Take out.”

“Unbelievable”

Bryce didn’t know what to do. Maybe he could just watch a video on Youtube and cook something basic to save the day. Eleanor’s face popped in his mind, but he shook off the idea as soon as it emerged. Calling her would implicate to tell her the truth about his family and he wasn’t ready for that.

“Okay.”—He said after some deliberation—"I’ll go to the grocery store, so you have food for breakfast tomorrow and all that. Do you wanna go with me?”

“Nah, I’m tired, I think I’m gonna lay down a bit.”

“Yeah, sure. I’ll be back in a bit.”

The moment he was out of the apartment, Bryce rubbed his hand across his face in exasperation. He didn’t know what to do, how to deal with his sister, and with the mistake he had been making all those years.

He always knew he shouldn’t have left her sister just like he did; never go back to Maui; call her just once in a while to finally only for her birthday. The guilt that has been accompanying him for ten years was materializing now in one of his worst fears: face his sister and deal with the consequences of his abandonment, the rage and the loneliness she might be feeling, all without prior notice.

He tried to clear his mind. At that moment he needed to stay calm to give Keiki the stability she had come to look for with him. He was the adult there, so he couldn’t let the feelings overwhelm him and make Keiki feel worse than she already was. 

Once he regained calmness, Bryce made his way to the grocery store where he collected all the ingredients for a spaghetti recipe he read on the internet, plus some vegetables, fruits, bread, butter, bacon, eggs, cookies, Doritos, so Keiki would have something to have breakfast and eat while she was at his place.

When the doors of the elevator opened again on his floor, she found the silhouette of a woman with a black and golden dress on, talking to Keiki. He froze for a moment until both directed to him.

“Elle”

“Hi Bryce”—She looked at him surprised, while Keiki just eyed them, leaning in the door frame, arms crossed.—“What’s happening?”

“Let’s get inside and talk, okay?”

Keiki moved backwars to let Bryce and Eleanor in. He went straight to the kitchen and set the bags over the counter meticulously, like trying to gain some time before facing her. After a few moments, Bryce turned to Eleanor.  

“Elle, this is my sister Keiki. She arrived today from Maui. She’s visiting.”

“Like hell. I told you I’m not planning to go back there, Bryce.”—She barked while she was flopping on the couch with the remote control in her hand.

“Hi Keiki, I’m Eleanor, nice to meet you”—She replied, giving a smile, even if she wasn’t looking at her.

“Yeah”—The girl just said, her eyes not moving from the TV.

Bryce just sighed, making evident his frustration. Eleanor looked at him worried and then pulled him to the kitchen.

“Can you explain to me now what’s happening? Why your sister ran away from home? Hell, I didn’t even know you had a sister, Bryce.”

Even if he wasn’t ready to talk about it, Bryce knew it wasn’t fair Eleanor didn’t know he had a sister, while she had talked about her family countless times.

“Elle, I…”—Now another fear was materializing: telling the truth about his family to someone from Boston. To the woman he loved, no less.—“To make a long story short, my family was a big deal in Hawaii. When I was in high school my dad went to jail for insider trading, and my mom only got off by testifying against him even though she was right there helping him the whole time.”

Eleanor gazed thoughtfully at him until she realized.

“Oh my god, Bryce… Your parents are The Lahelas? As in property tycoons turned white collars criminals The Lahelas?”

“That’s my family, and Keiki lives with them back in Hawaii. Dad got paroled a while ago for good behavior.”

Bryce saw as she remained in silence, surprise in her eyes. He couldn’t help but wince, waiting for the disappointed look, the disgust, the judgment. But nothing of it came. She instead tried to understand why Keiki was running away from home, what could have triggered that. She tried to convince him that this was not a simple rebellion as he was thinking. There was no judgment in her eyes or words. She just focused on Keiki and how to help him to deal with her.

Once Bryce felt less tense, he asked Eleanor to help him with dinner, which she accepted gladly. Half an hour later, the three of them enjoyed a plate of pasta that felt tastier as it was a result of collaborative work. 

Even if Keiki was hesitant to talk at first, the food put her in such a good mood that Eleanor got her to chat a bit with her, Bryce observing the exchange with admiration. From the answers, Eleanor could tell Keiki was a smart girl and mature for her age; she had a hot temper but the same self-assurance Bryce had, even the same smirks and looks.

“Thanks for dinner, Eleanor. .”—Keiki said before going to sleep.—"Good to know I won’t starve to death my first night here.”

“You’re welcome. It was nice to meet you, Keiki.”

She smiled at her and then got to the room.

Eleanor and Bryce stood in silence for a bit, none of then sure who had to speak first.

“Bryce, why you never told me? This is big.”—Eleanor finally said, standing in front of him, concerned.

“I know… I just…I was afraid.”

“Afraid of what?”

“Of you judging me.”

“Judge you? How could I judge you, Bryce?”

“Because it has always been like this. People know me and it’s okay at first, but then, when they know that I’m the son of a criminal, they assure me it’s okay but they never look at me the same, never treat me the same. They look at me like I’m about to do something, or like I’m a professional liar and I’m trying to cheat on them.”

“Bryce..”—She whispered, cupping his cheeks, her eyes full of sadness.

“I wanted to start from scratch here, no one knowing about my parents, no one judging me for that, just focusing on what I am, on how hard I worked to be at Edenbrook and be known for that.”

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry this happened to you.”—She said as he took him in her arms, embracing him tightly.

They stayed in silence for a while.

“How could you ever think that I would judge you, that I would treat you like that? I would never, Bryce. Never.”

“I know but some part of me thought you would.”

“Now I understand why you always changed the topic when I asked you.”

He nodded.

“But now you know you can trust me, right? Whatever you need, I’ll have your back.”

“I know, but… it’s not that simple, Eleanor. Since high school, people have seen me as a disease the moment they know I’m a Lahela, so I’ve never had anyone to trust about what I felt or just tell…stuff… the stress, the sadness… the things friends share. I never needed anyone to deal with problems, I could do it on my own until… until I met you, but I’ve ignored the feeling because I don’t wanna hold on to you, I’m scared that you’ll go away and I’ll lose the one person I trusted.”

“Why would I go?”

“Because nothing’s settled between us. There’s still the possibility that you’ll go with Ramsey or simply break up with me because you don’t want me anymore.”

“Bryce, we’ve been together for two whole months, I’m not planning to go anywhere.”

“Yeah, that’s what you say now, but you still want our relationship to be a secret because you don’t want Ramsey to know and make it a reality, because some part of you don’t want it to be true.”

“How can you say that?”

“Don’t be hypocrite Eleanor, please. I’m not stupid.”—Bryce retorted, hurt. She had never seen him this serious and cold.

“It’s not like that. And I don’t get where you’re going with this.”

“My point is, Eleanor, that I want to trust you, I really do want to tell you what is happening inside my head, but I can’t if the one person I can trust maybe won’t be here with me in two months or in a year. It doesn’t work like that with me. I have to keep on my own as always.”

“Bryce, no matter what, I’ll always be here for you, even if things turn out different-”

“No, Eleanor”—He interrupted—“Please don’t do this. Don’t be this selfish, thinking that if we end up things, we could go back to what we were. If I hold on you, I don’t know how I’ll deal with losing you or be away from you while I heal.”

“Bryce… Don’t be afraid, sometimes you have to take a leap of faith…”

“Don’t you think I haven’t taken enough leaps, Eleanor? I showed my feelings for you, I told you I loved you even before we were dating. You’re the only person I’ve done that with, and yet there is always a possibility that you won’t feel the same ever. And what about you? Yeah, you took a leap when you started dating me, but you can’t take a leap in leaving Ramsey in the past, tell him the truth, scrub all over his face that you moved on, because your ego is terrified that you weren’t enough to heal him. So, don’t dare to tell me that I should take a leap.”

He turned around and sat on the couch, both hands over his hair.

Eleanor looked at him, seeing the real Bryce for the first time. The Bryce that feels in pain, angry, annoyed, frustrated. Vulnerable. Human. The side she had never seen in him and she always wanted to know.

She took a few steps towards him and squatted down to face him.

“I’m sorry. I’m not trying to push you —She murmured—”I just want you to know that I’m here for you if you need me, okay?”

“I know, but I don’t think I’m ready for this, Eleanor. This is too much, and I need to deal with this on my own, that’s how I know best.”

“I understand.—She said softly, while taking his hands on hers.

The moment he felt his touch, his eyes threatened with tears and a knot ached in his throat. He pulled away from her grip.

“I… uh… I need you to go, Eleanor. I want to be alone.”

“Of course”—She replied, standing up.  

Once she collected her things she went to the door.

“Whatever you decide, just remember that I want the best for you, Bryce. I know we are in a complicated situation right now, but I’m doing my best to end this hell soon.”

And she left.

Bryce stood unmoved on the couch recounting the events of the past hours as the tears streamed down his face.

His biggest fears had occurred, and now he was feeling the incessant need of trusting Eleanor, tell her all the pain that was buried in his heart, but he just couldn’t. Just like his issues about his parents,  he had been burying the thoughts about Eleanor not wanting to confront Ethan about their relationship. He knew she still loved him and couldn’t blame her for that, but it was hurting him more than he thought, and he had just ignored his feelings and not said anything to her because if he opened up to Eleanor, even for one single thing, it would be like to open the pandora box, and he wasn’t ready to let all go.

Things were difficult in the next days. Keiki was absolutely decided to stay with him, especially since his parents didn’t reach him or Keiki to make her come back to Maui, and he still didn’t know how to deal with Keiki, because at any try of conversation, they ended up fighting or she ignoring his tries to be friendly.

The frustration and guilty were getting bigger and bigger.

He didn’t speak to Eleanor, and barely spend time with the rest of his friends. He just locked in on himself, focusing on working hard, and go straight home to be with Keiki even if they didn’t say anything or just argued. She was alone all day so she needed some company, and he really wanted to understand her, bonding with her and be like they were before, o maybe not like before, but he wanted to be her brother again.

However, soon he realized that he had been too harsh with Eleanor. Even if she was still in love with Ethan and didn’t want to make it official, it was all within their agreement. And more importantly, she had always been very respectful of their relationship, because she had only eyes and time for Bryce, and even if she wasn’t ready to commit, to tell the truth to Ethan and stop loving him, she was all in the relationship with him. He was her priority, he sensed that. He knew it.  Because she had been refusing any contact with Ethan since he was back.  When Bryce assumed that Eleanor had kissed him the night she stayed at Donahue’s, the reality was different.  And Ethan’s behavior the past weeks was proof of that. So, he felt bad for reacting that way. She didn’t deserve it when she only wanted to help.

*

Bryce was walking by the fourth floor, expecting to find Eleanor there, when he heard heated voices inside an empty room.

“This anger you have against me is about something else and I won’t allow it, Ethan.”

“What do you mean by ‘something else’?”

“Not work-related. You have been an ass to me for weeks, and whatever might be your reason, you’re being unprofessional and you’re exactly what you wanted to avoid.”

Then, absolute silence.

If Bryce was right, Eleanor was confronting Ethan about his behavior in the past weeks. She didn’t address the problem openly, but it was clearly a step he thought she wouldn’t take so soon.

“Oh, I’m sorry.”—She said when she ran into him, not cathing it was him at first.—"Bryce? Hi”

“Eleanor”—They stared in silence for a moment—"I was looking for you. What time does your shift end?”

Bryce saw the brief moment Ethan passed behind Eleanor, his face impassive and cold as steel, ignoring their existence completely.

“Half an hour, I’m doing my final round. Why?”

“I need to speak to you, meet me in the atrium as always?”

“Okay, yeah.”—Her cheeks flushed and couldn’t help but look at him with hope.

“See ya later, then.”

He waited in their usual spot and finally, fifteen minutes later, she appeared.

“I’m so sorry, I had to run new tests for a patient, and it took me ages.”

“Don’t worry, I’m glad you’re here.”

“So…”

“Let’s go to my car, we can talk there.”

“Okay.

Once both got in the car, they looked at each other until Bryce broke the silence.

“Elle, I want to apologize. I realized I was too unfair with you the other day. I know you were trying to help and I just took it on you, because I was frustrated with the situation and I didn’t know how to deal with it, let alone with another person offering help.”

“It’s okay, Bryce, it’s me who should apologize. I shouldn’t have pushed you like that.”

“No, you were trying to help me, and I thank you for that. But I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that about Ramsey. You have been very respectful to our relationship, I want you to know that. I really appreciate it, babe. It’s just that sometimes this is… hard.”

“Bryce, listen, you were right, you don’t have to apologize for telling me the truth. I am afraid, and sadly I still have feelings for Ethan and I don’t want to hurt him, but I don’t want to hurt you either, so it’s all so complicated.”

“I know, Elle, I know, that’s why I shouldn’t have been so rude. By no means you have been unfair or mean to me. It’s just that this is getting a bit hard for me, that’s all, especially now that I’m dealing with something big in my life and I want to hold on to you… But I’m terrified to do so.”

Eleanor rested her hands over his. 

“Look, I know I can’t promise you we will be together forever, but I want you to know that our relationship it’s the most important thing to me now, and I’ll do whatever I can to take care of us. We are still in this difficult process until things are clear inside my head, but right now I want to be here for you, I want to help you with your sister and with whatever you need. Just say the word, okay?”

He smiled thankfully and then nodded.

“Truce?”—She said, offering her hand.

“Truce”—He agreed, but instead of taking her hand, he kissed her sweetly in the lips.

Eleanor giggled against him.

“God, I missed you so much.”—He sighed, parting from her just a brief moment, to keep kissing her for another couple of seconds.

“Me too. These days have been a real nightmare without you. How are you dealing with Keiki?”

“Not so well, actually. That’s why I wanted to ask you if you would like to go home with me tonight. I haven’t been able to talk with Keiki, and if you there with me, maybe I’ll understand her better. I don’t wanna fight with her anymore.”

Eleanor smiled warmly at him.

“This means that you’re letting me in?”

Bryce had made his decision but couldn’t help but feel a bit nervous.

“Yes. I want you with me in all this, Elle.”

“You won’t regret it. I promise.”

When they get home a delicious smell invaded their nostrils. Keiki was in the kitchen apparently frying some beef.

“Hey Keiki”—They both greeted.

“Hey. Eleanor, I didn’t know you were coming. I hope I’m doing enough food for the three of us.”

“We’ll make it work”—Bryce said, hopeful.

“If not, Bryce, you can call a delivery just as you like.”

“Haha, always so loving, sis. Whatcha doing?”

“Mongolian beef, I found an easy recipe on Instagram and here I am.”

“You need any help?”

“Umh, maybe with the rice, I have to chop the scallions and then have an eye on the beef.”

“Sure.”

They both washed their hands and then Eleanor taught Bryce how to cook rice while suggesting topics to talk. Some were delicate and Keiki reacted badly, but after every scowl Eleanor gave to Bryce, he tried to act more empathetic, listening to her before judging.

Once the dinner was served, the three seated with smiled on her faces.

“Keiki, this is great!”—Eleanor praised after giving the first taste to her plate.—“You had cooked before?”

“Yeah, a couple of times, but it’s not that I have the chance to do it often when you have people who cook for you”—She replied, a bit embarrassed.

“And what do you like to do? Reading? Singing? Playing an instrument? Skateboarding?”

“I like drawing, reading, and sometimes taking pictures.”

“That’s great. Boston has such beautiful places to do it.”

“Yeah, that’s true. I’ve took some really nice. ”

“You must show me them after dinner, okay?”

“Sure”

“ And what about your friends? You are not missing them now that you’re here?”

“Nah, I don’t have actual friends there, they all hate me.”

“Why they hate you?”—Bryce asked, brows furrowed.

That was the moment Bryce had been waiting since her sister got there, because with that question, Keiki let everything out. 

Bryce finally knew the motives that made her leave home and fly all over the Pacific Ocean and to the other side of the country to be with him, even if they hadn’t seen each other in ten years.

And it happened that her sister was living the same hell he lived. Her classmates hated her for what his parents did, and of course, they hadn’t done anything to protect her. They only cared about their reputation.

The mistake he kept making for ten years had led to this. Her sister suffering from loneliness, abandonment, bullying. Just like he did.

“Keiki I’m …. I’m sorry I didn’t call more. I should have been looking out for you.”—Bryce finally said.

“It’s not like you could have done anything from all the way over here.”

“I could, Keiki. I should have tried, I should have done better, I should have stood in front of mom and dad if you needed me to. And I didn’t. I let this happened. But I’m gonna do better, starting from today.”

Bryce got up from the chair and opened his arms, inviting her sister to do the same. After a few moments of staring at him, she finally stood up and threw herself into his arms.

“I’m sorry I was a jerk when I turned up. And like… every day since.”—She apologized, complete sincerity in her eyes.

“The only jerk here is me. You can stay with me for as long as you need, okay? We’ll figure it out.”

“Thanks, Bryce.”

“I’m sorry, Keiki. Truly.”

“Bryce, it’s okay. I’m happy that I can count on you.”

“Always.”

The three chatted on the couch until Eleanor started to feel sleepy. She and Bryce said goodnight to Keiki, who had given his bed back a couple days ago as she found out the couch really comfy and his brother needed proper rest more than her.  When they locked in the room, Bryce pulled Eleanor to his chest gently, resting his forehead into hers.

“Thank you for doing this.”

“I didn’t do anything.”

“All the right questions, and all those scowls and deadly glares that meant ‘stop screwing it up, Bryce’ is doing nothing? Really?”

“Ah, well. It was minimal. You did the hard job here, you get your sister to talk, and you listened to her and empathized with her. You apologized. You were the support she was looking for. You did it amazing, Bryce. Not me.  I’m so proud of you.”

“This wouldn’t have been possible without you.”—He kissed her in the lips, giving her the sweetest smile she had even seen in him, it made her stomach flutter.

“Good things happen when you trust people, you see?”

“Only with you.”

“I know. And I won’t let you down.”

___

[oh-sweet-mama]

Lonely (VI)

T.W - talk of self harm, talk of suicide

3 weeks later 7 days until the full moon Remus

The feeling of my shoulder blades cutting into my ribs, just added to the feeling of the dulcet ache that seemed to consume me.

3 weeks. 3 fucking weeks. Y/n can't stand to be in the same room as me. Let alone my D.A.D.A partner, but she somehow tolerates it.

Fully cooperating with the work we have to do, like a royal servant. Matching purple under eye bags adorned both of our faces, but somehow made her more eternal.

Over the weeks she had slowly stopped coming to the meals at the great hall, and the effects were starting to show. Her cheek bones were becoming more prominent on her face, and her usually rosy color, long faded away.

The usual radiant y/c/e's faded away to leave a monotone grey. She seemed so fragile, like a Porcelain doll, if only I had treated her that way.

So fuckin' stupid Remus.

A note hit my forehead and landed in front of me.

Keep staring at her like that she'll end up with two holes In the side of her head.

S.B

Recognizing the messy handwriting, before even finishing the note, I immediately knew who it was.

The feeling of tears pricked the sides of the eyes, but I ran out of tears to cry long ago. Instead the feeling of a dulcet ache in the chest replaced the physical show of emotions.

6 days until the full moon Y/n

My shitty diet consisted of Tea, cigarettes, and what ever my friends brought me back to the dorm. Of course I tell them that I'm not their responsibility, but they still bring me the occasional muffin or biscuit.

James brought me entire meals, of which I could barely consume the entire thing.

You have to do it you have to tell him.

No. No I couldn't. I can't risk losing someone else. He would hate me if I ever told him. Send me to the ministry, report me to Dumbledore, hell I'd get kicked out of Hogwarts.

I still maintain physical hygiene and grades. The two most important things. Can't smell and can't fail.

The ache in my chest was never there, maybe it had to do with the fact that I'm always high enough to fend it off.

First tip, the best way to get over someone, get all the emotions out, get numb, act like it never happened.

Easy, right? No. You can't just act like it never happened, he was all I had, all I'll ever have.

I just wasn't good enough.

I stopped going to parties, instead focused on my studies. One of the best in my class.

'Y/n what's your secret?'

'I don't know, uh drugs? Heartbreak? Both?'

5 days until the full moon Remus

The increasing uncomfortable pressure on my joints was almost enough to distract me from her. Almost.

I just want to run up to her and tell her everything, drag Sirius, and make him confess too. Maybe we'll all be happy together.

The imagine of the three of us happy together and in love. Clouded my head. I thought about it so much it was almost tangible.

Her daily routine trips to Madam Pompfrey had me assuming the worse. I had my fare share of bandaging up Sirius' forearms and upper thighs.

I tried to think, her period maybe? No, she's had hers for years, she would just excuse herself to the toilet.

My mind just defaulted into the worse case possible.

Suicide?

My heart thumped in an uneven painful rhythm. Swallowing a lump in my throat I hadn't even known formed I continued to attempt to let my teacher teach me the material of today's lesson.

Please be ok y/n, please, I love you to much to lose you, even though I've already have

4 days until the full moon

Tell him, tell him, he'll help you. The pain is too much, please it hurts.

I took a deep breath calming the clamoring thoughts in my head. A very dangerous place to be at this time of the month.

James was sitting next to me on my bed, the way he usually does, reading something. I noticed the title of his cover.

Lycanthropy: Everything you need to know and why their still human

"Didn't know we were learning about Lycan's in D.A.D.A." I murmured, focusing back on my own book.

"We're not, personal purpose." James answered back.

"What's your opinion on them?" I asked getting more nervous for James' answer.

Tell him, tell him, he'll help you. James loves you, he'll help you.

"There people, humans, witch or wizard, just with a condition. Doesn't make them dangerous, just misunderstood." James answered, "why do you ask?"

My eyes went wide, my pulse sky rocketing, the sudden awareness of the blood rushing through my veins.

"N-no reason." I desperately hid behind the small potions handbook from the library.

"Y/n/n?"

"Hmm? Very interesting potion here yes-"

"Wolves bane potion? How ironic, oh and your little wolves bane garden?"

My face paled, all of the blood rushing from my head into my toes.

Oh why can't I just sink to the bed and disappear?

"Very lovely flowers yes?"

"Do you, have, anything you want to tell me?" James asked causally not looking away from his book.

Oh what the hell.

"Fine! Fine!" I got up from the bed, tossing my book in the process, "I'm a werewolf!"

James froze in his spot. Before slowly lower his book so his eyes could peek above.

"What?"

"I contracted Lycanthropy ok?"

"Y/n sit down, and tell me everything, ok?" A sweet tone, of compassion and understanding, allowed me to sit and tell him everything.

3 days until the full moon

Remus

Nearing the summed of the month, a deep pit of anxiety took place, along with the increasing pain across my body. Sleep easily overcome me at any point possible, but restlessness at any other time.

Dozens of old scars, reminded me of the painful transformation. I pondered the lonely pain, that radiated through my diaphragm. Even being with one of the loves of my life, the immense feeling of being alone, was over clouding my mind.

Though James had been acting different, skittish, more than usual. He was usually found escorting Y/n.  

Again in D.A.D.A, We were granted a study hall period, in the Great hall. Books open, parchments being scratched on, quills moving from their ink pots, and light chatter amongst the tables. The table segment of which I sat was mostly empty, Sirius lightly leaning on my left side. A soft voice came by and stopped right in front of me.

Glancing up for a moment, my eyes glued to the figure in front of me. Y/n. oh shit oh shit, keep it cool Remus, don't scare her away now. Though a few seconds later James adorned her side, as usual.

2 days until the full moon Y/n

The secret was out, at least a little, an invisible weight was lifted off of my chest. Granting less anxiety about the first shift of the school year.

Actively avoiding the conversation, about where I go, or how it happened, I seemed to feel free. I guess I hadn't seemed to notice the weight of the secret I had been keeping.

It had become second nature, to harbor such a deadly illness, no harm shall come to them. I promised myself. Even if it meant lying to them.

It's better to not have them know, than having them risk their lives for something I can handle.

1 day until the full moon Remus

Y/n seemed to be getting healthier with the promotion and consolation of James. Every one needs someone to lean on.

I just wish I had been me. Maybe if I had told her, told her about my illness that seemed to consume me at times. Hell, my best friends and boyfriend knew about me long before we even started dating.

Yet 2 years had gone by and I couldn't bring myself to tell her, I was afraid of losing her. But I still did.

The day of the full moon 3rd person

"Y/n, please come with me, trust me please!" James begged to the girl, that refused any type of help. "You've already taken the wolves bane potion, and you can't hurt me. You know why? Because Lycans don't attack Animagus'"

"You're an Animagus?" Y/n whispered, just above her breath.

"Yes. Now please." James held his hand out to her, in a silent last offer of help. Y/n laced her fingers with James' and he sped off with her close in tow.

James pulled a seemingly blank piece of paper from His hoodie pocket, and let go of her hand.

"James, what are you doing?" Y/n asked in a hush tone.

A wild grin played out on James' face, "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good." The Incantation, followed through the tip of James' wand and caused ink to spread around the parchment. Names moved across through what looked like halls.

"What is that?"

"Marauders map, shows what every one is doing, every minute of everyday, see, there Dumbledore, in his office. I was just making sure the rest of the marauders were on their way and was no one coming."

"Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs?"

"Yea you'll see, come on now." James snatched Y/n's wrist and ran, taking her out of the castle and towards the shrieking shack.

"James the willow! Be careful!"

He continued to tug the girl behind him.

"James!"

"Hurry, there almost there." Reaching the edge of the field where the whomping willow resided, James stuffed the map back into his pocket.

"James? What the hell, where were you?" The rest of the marauders came out from behind a group of trees, "and what the fuck is she doing here?" Sirius snapped

"Can I tell them, Y/n?" James asked.

"I will," y/n replied in a hushed tone.

"Tell us what! You're dating?" Sirius scoffed.

"No, I-I'm a werewolf, a Lycan, a lycanthrope, whatever you want to call it! James said you could help me, last time I went to my usual spot, I fractured both of my legs and laid in the middle of the forbidden forest for 3 days"

Sirius paled out, and looked back to Remus.

"If you want me to go, tell me now, I've taken the Wolves bane potion, it's only a couple hours hike into the forbidden forest."

Remus felt his heart drop, then a deep ache. How long? I guess she also had no right to tell me, just as I never told her.

"No, Y/n stay, let's go inside." Remus said, sincerity laced into his voice. Her face softened.

"Where?" She asked.

Remus pointed to the willow. Her face paled.

James headed over to Peter to discuss who would stay outside in case anything went south. Sirius looked to Remus.

Remus took a few hesitant steps toward her. Before reaching his hand out offering her safe passage. Instead she swooped in gently under his arm.

Remus' heart swelled, maybe she does still love me after all.

1888 words

Ahhhahahahhah

It's finally coming together baiwbsiaiensl

-Kal

[watchingtheroad]

Be Your Run-To

Damen struggles in the aftermath of his injury and the reality of losing his remaining family. Laurent helps him cope. 

Post-Canon | Hurt/Comfort | Mourning | First Time Bottoming | 

POV Switches:  Damen >> Laurent >> Nikandros >> Damen

+

Damen watched as Laurent dissected another letter from Arles over his makeshift desk at Ios, a table and chair he had dragged into what was now Damen’s office space. Laurent loved it for the massive library attached. He had already brought in an entire new shelf on which he would display the books he planned to read separately from the ones he did not. It was very charmingly involved. 

Damen loved it for the memories of his childhood—sitting on the King’s lap and reading as a boy, growing and studying alongside him as he worked at his desk—and hated it for the exact same reason. 

Reality was strange to think about, stranger for it to be so. That was his father’s desk. His father’s books. His father’s rooms. His father’s throne. His father’s crown. His father’s city. His father’s kingdom. 

His father was dead. His brother was dead, buried in the royal crypt with family rather than treated as the gullible traitor he proved himself to be. 

Damen had thought he could save them both, will them to life and reason. 

He had been wrong. 

Grief crashed over him in inconvenient waves in the weeks immediately after his own injury and Kastor’s bitter end. It was different without the constant drama of plotting against the Regent and running around the continent with Laurent. Forced to endlessly sit and heal, Damen had time to dwell in his misery—entirely too much, arguably, that drained him to exhaustion in moments meant for rest—all while continuing plans to stabilize his own government and attempting to solidify an official unity with Vere. 

It was quite a lot of work, investigation and tedious conversation: drafting documents, arguing more treason and laws, deciding which policies would be adopted kingdom-wide or remain independent to either Akielos or Vere. The matter of slavery was the most pressing to attend to, and one on which Damen and Laurent vehemently agreed. Total abolishment was the goal. It was a matter of implementation, and not every kyros in Akielos was as amenable to change as Nikandros. 

They spent the majority of their days in grueling meetings once Damen was lucid, which began at his bedside, then expanded to common rooms as Damen grew stronger. Laurent had done an invaluable job at handling things when he was not, but there was still substantial progress to be made. He had named Nikadros Kyros in Ios, summoned the few, trustworthy members of the Veretian Council, new appointments included. 

It added another layer of difficulty on both sides, given Vere’s chaotic political climate and Kastor’s treason. It was hard to know exactly all the places evil had touched their kingdom, and Laurent’s extended stay in Ios was a disadvantage in finding out and achieving true peace for Vere. None of the Veretians in Ios liked it there, and none of the Veretians in Vere liked that their future King was still away. Laurent’s focus should have been that, not shouldering Damen’s burdens beyond necessity.

As it was, Laurent refused to be parted from him until he was well again. Damen had been adamant for some time that he was well again, despite some moderate discomfort during his deep breathing exercises and soreness that lingered with certain movements. He seemed to be singularly convinced of that. Even Nikandros was on Laurent’s side, a rarity of astronomical proportion. 

Under different circumstances, Damen would’ve already progressed his training to more rigorous levels, used physical exertion and pain as a distraction for everything else, then pushed through until it became tolerable. The lack thereof was making him incredibly irritable, but Laurent insisted he take it torturously easy, fretting about him every step. 

From the look on Laurent’s face, it appeared whoever wrote the latest letter from Vere was returning the favor in making one irritable. 

“What’s the matter?” Damen asked. 

With reluctance, Laurent said, “I have to leave for Vere. The people have started congregating outside Arles, which I suspect is diplomatic phrasing for rioting. Resistance from the Regent’s leftover filth. Fucking brilliant.” 

Innocently enough, Damen noted, “Going back sooner would have eliminated that.” 

“Just what I wanted to hear, Damianos,” Laurent said, voice like the edge of a knife. “Thank you for your helpful counsel.” 

“Laurent, I didn’t mean—” Damen started, then stopped, closing his mouth with an internally audible clack of teeth. He took a deep breath, blew it out. “I only meant that Vere needs to see its King. They’ll settle as soon as you enter the city.” 

“Do you want me to go so badly?” Laurent asked. “If it will help, you can say it. Let us not pretend I haven’t been worrying you mad.” 

“You haven’t,” Damen fibbed. 

He had, at times, but only regarding certain things. Being fussed over had never been something Damen was particularly keen on.

Damen said, “You’re the best part of every day I live.” 

The former did not make the latter untrue. Their stolen moments were the only thing that kept Damen holding himself together. The source of his foul mood wasn’t Laurent; his concern came from a place of love, Damen knew well enough. It was the circumstances, a result of sadness and lethargy and days and days of complete uselessness that Damen was unaccustomed to and despised to his core. It wasn’t fair to lay his frustrations on Laurent simply because he had nowhere else to aim them, but it’s what he had done. 

“Am I?” Laurent asked, the prick self-deprecation clear and sharp. “You haven’t even pretended you want me to stay to spare my feelings.” 

Laurent was talking nonsense. Damen ached to erase the doubt in his voice. He went to him, yielding before crossing completely into Laurent’s space where he sat at his table. It was clear when Damen needed to tread more carefully, when Laurent’s defenses were momentarily raised. Damen fancied himself safely inside them, not out in the cold. Still, he waited, until a nearly-imperceptible nod and a softening of eyes gave him the permission he sought. 

He slid Laurent’s chair away from the table to better get at him, kneeling in front of him on the floor. Laurent looked at him as though he might break during the mere act of kneeling, but thankfully, held his tongue. 

“Laurent, I don’t want you to go,” Damen explained. “These cuffs on our wrists?” He held Laurent’s hand in one of his, and with the other, let his fingers trail across gold. “Everything they stand for, I want. You, I want. But I don’t want you to stay here to the detriment of Vere because you think I need to be watched like an invalid. I am fi—” 

“Don’t. Don’t say you’re fine,” Laurent stopped him. “You’ve said that since the moment you very nearly bled to death under my hand, through every complication. Are you so stubborn you cannot see you’re the least reliable regarding your own condition? Your physical state is not my only concern—” Laurent took his face in both hands, his touch gentle as he leaned forward to press his lips to Damen’s forehead, murmuring, “You’ve not been yourself, Damianos. I’m worried about your mind, your spirit.” 

Damen clutched Laurent’s wrists, letting out a ragged breath. The whole truth spoken aloud unsettled him to the bone, made everything he fought to bury swell up inside, threatening to burst through his skin. His voice was strained, on the verge of disproportionate emotion, “It’s not you, Laurent. I swear it. It’s me. I’m—”

Broken.

He thought he had been managing, that the moments of shared happiness between them would disguise the torment in his heart. 

Laurent cradled Damen’s head to his chest, and Damen’s arms found their way around him. 

“You’re grieving, Damen. Your opportunity was stolen from you after your father was killed. It’s perfectly normal to need that time now, after everything. When Auguste died, I—” Damen sensed Laurent hit a wall and bear through it in the next breath. “It took months for the agony to subside enough that I felt I could breathe again.” 

It only added to Damen’s guilt. 

“Your brother was good, Laurent—” And I took him from you, Damen thought. “Mine tried to kill me more times than I’m likely aware of to accurately count. And my father— You hated my father. He was a ruthless conqueror, and I worshipped him in blissful ignorance.” 

“My opinions about Theomedes are irrelevant. He was your father, your only living parent, your King,” Laurent listed, pressing a kiss to his hair, then another. “What you feel is acceptable, no matter how conflicting…There’s no proper strategy in mourning, my love, but you do not have to do it alone in silence. I am here.” 

Damen felt his cheeks wet with tears he hadn’t known were trickling free. He buried his face in Laurent’s chest, a choked sob escaping with his words. “It’s impossible to be here, Laurent. Everywhere I look, I see them. I feel like—”

An imposter. 

Laurent was the last person who needed to hear that from him. Damen had been groomed for kingship his entire life and felt fraudulent when faced with it now amidst his sadness, particularly having evolved so drastically from who he last was in Ios. Even so, he couldn’t fathom having it thrust upon him as a boy as Laurent did, his grief unimaginable and obstacles unnumbered, the unspeakable abuse he endured. 

“Tell me,” Laurent coaxed, his fingers moving in soothing strokes against his scalp. “Let me inside this head of yours.” 

A deep, steadying breath. 

“There are times I feel Ios doesn’t belong to me. It’s as though my father’s still here, alive in every hall and chamber. I’m so far from the Prince Akielos once knew,” Damen confessed. 

Laurent lifted Damen’s head to meet his eyes, delicately wiping beneath them with his thumbs. His smile was soft, compassionate. His eyes shone with love Damen felt unworthy of receiving. 

“Damianos, my King,” Laurent said, with a reverence in his voice that throbbed in Damen’s chest and ached through his ribs. “You are twice the leader and ten times the man your father and brother were. Not all change is unwelcome. If you stepped onto the balcony now, Ios would chant your name in the streets. Not your father’s. Not Kastor’s. They adore you. I adore you. Your effortless confidence, the power you hold in your body and words… I aspire to it. Your brother played at ruling. You were born to it. Akielos is yours. These ghosts won’t haunt you forever.” 

His words were fleeting warmth wrapped around Damen’s body. He longed to feel it deeper, for them to speak to something solid inside him and hold.

“You’re kinder than I deserve,” Damen said. Then, eager to shift the conversation away from himself, split open as he was, he returned, “It was born in you, too. You’re brilliant, Laurent. I’ve never known a mind like yours. Arles will receive you with open arms, whenever you choose to return. I’ve seen how your people look at you.” 

They had lined the streets of every town in Vere, ecstatic to catch a mere glimpse of Laurent as he rode through on their journey to Akielos. If there was residual unrest in the capital due to the Regent, Damen imagined the faction was small. 

“If it hasn’t been ripped apart brick by brick before I arrive,” Laurent mused, with an exaggerated sigh. He caressed Damen’s face from brow to jaw. “You look exhausted. Let’s have a hot bath, shall we? Wait for me in your chambers, and I’ll attend you? I have one thing left to do here.”

Damen nodded. That did sound nice. 

He shifted to stand, pausing to kiss Laurent on his way. His breath caught, lips trembling as the kiss deepened. His emotions were all out of sorts. Nothing meant more to him than making Laurent happy, merging their lives into one as Damen felt bound to him. He wished to feel better, and he wished to do it beside Laurent. 

“Thank you, Laurent… Hurry to me,” Damen said, and because it was all he could muster while keeping his composure, he hoped it conveyed everything he meant.

+

[THE REST IS HERE]

[choiceswreckedme]

Kiss

@choicesnovemberchallenge Day 1: Kiss

Book: The Royal Romance

Today was a crazy day, and I wanted to get this done sooner (and better, TBH), but here we are. 

Riley sat on the cold, stone bench at the maze entrance, so completely lost in thought that she didn’t hear the man until he spoke.

“So you’re going to be queen. Congratulations.” He held up his crystal champagne flute in a mock toast.

Riley jumped at the sound of his voice, then narrowed her eyes at his tone. “I am. But I won’t thank you since I doubt your well wishes are genuine.”

He smirked and dropped down next to her.

“Astute as ever, Riley.”

The pair looked ahead, each refusing to meet the other’s eyes, each too stubborn to admit what had been brewing between them since the start of the social season. He’d come to visit one weekend, a whirlwind trip through Cordonia before embarking on his next adventure. Liam had been happy to see his brother, already overwhelmed with the demands of being king-to-be, and encouraged Leo to get to know the suitors in an effort to help Liam narrow the field.

Riley had been miserable. She missed New York, she missed her friends. Completely out of her element, she hated playing dress up only to be ignored by the men and degraded by the women. She’d found an out-of-the-way study with a well-stocked bar cart and sat nursing a bottle of whiskey, the clink of the ice cubes the only sound in the room. 

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t know anyone was here.” 

Leo stepped back from the door, ready to leave. He was looking for a drink, not a conversation with the American who had no business being there. The woman looked up, surprised. Clear blue eyes locked on his and Leo felt the air escape his lungs. 

“Please stay. I haven’t had a conversation with anyone in two days.” Riley grabbed the whisky bottle and held it out to him. “Care for a drink?”

His body moving toward her before his brain could tell him it was a bad idea, Leo found himself sitting on the opposite end of the couch, reaching out to slip the bottle from her slim fingers. Raising it to his lips, he took a long pull of the burning liquid, his gaze never leaving her face. 

“Why are you hiding in here?” Leo sucked his upper lip, removing the traces of liquor there. Transfixed by the sight, Riley felt a stirring deep in her belly. Liam was attractive, there was no doubt about that, but Riley saw his imperfections: a slightly chipped incisor, cheekbones slightly too angular, shoulders slightly too rounded. She saw nothing wrong with the man in front of her. Sandy blond hair haphazardly brushed back from his ocean blue eyes. A dazzling smile, the dimple in his left cheek mesmerizing. Riley thought he was the most beautiful man she’d ever seen. 

She shrugged her shoulders, the messy blonde bun on top or her head wobbling with the motion. “I guess I just didn’t feel like impressing people tonight.” 

“Well, you’re in good company, then.” Leo gently knocked the bottle against Riley’s tumbler. “I never feel like impressing those assholes.”

The pair talked into the early morning, finally parting ways when Riley gave a jaw-cracking yawn. “I guess I should get to bed. I won’t be impressing any princes with dark circles under my eyes.” She snickered self-deprecatingly as she rose. “Thanks for hanging out with me, Leo. It was nice talking to you.” 

He rose from the couch, wracking his brain for a reason to keep their conversation going, for once actually wanting to talk to a woman, not fuck her. 

“You’re impressing everyone, Riley.” Leo gently touched her elbow, electricity bouncing between their skin. “Liam would be lucky to have you as his Queen.”

She smiled softly up at him. “Thank you, Leo. Good night.” 

“Riley?” Leo stopped her before she could slip out the door. She turned and raised her eyes questioningly, hoping beyond hope that he wanted to see her again.

“Yes?”

He cleared his throat nervously, unsure why he felt so unsettled by this girl. There was something disarming about her, something so genuine that Leo couldn’t help but want to be around her. To talk to her. Make her smile. Kiss her. 

“I leave tomorrow, but . . . I know how this place can get to you. If you ever need to talk, I’m here. I get it.”

Riley grinned. “I would like that. Thanks.” 

Over the next few weeks, the two corresponded frequently, each of them finding comfort in the other, taking well into the night. Their blossoming friendship was complicated by Liam’s growing feelings for Riley and, overcome with guilt, Leo tried to back off. They swore each call was their last yet couldn’t make it through the day without speaking to one another.

“You know, I never thanked you,” Riley’s voice broke Leo out of his reverie. He turned his eyes to the woman who’d slowly become his friend over the last few weeks, had maybe become more. The pain of knowing his brother was going to announce to the court in mere minutes that Riley was to be his Queen thrummed through his body. He tilted his head back and let the champagne in his glass flow down his throat, hoping it would soothe his aching heart. Leo cocked an eyebrow. 

“Thanked me? If I recall, you told me I had no fucking right to tell you what to do with your life.” He stood and rolled his shoulders, trying to release some of the tension tightening his muscles. “So I don’t need your thanks, Riley. I don’t need anything from you.” 

A flash of pure rage shot through her, pulling her to her feet next to him. 

“Fuck you, Leo! Fuck you for trying to tell me how I feel. I know how I feel. Liam loves me. I’m marrying him, and he loves me, and I love him!” 

Riley drew a deep, shuddering breath. Leo was wrong. He was wrong about her, about everything. 

Staring down at her, at her beautiful face surrounded by that blonde halo of hair, a small tiara perched on her head, billows of chiffon wrapped around her body, Leo made a desperate decision. 

“You love Liam?” 

Riley crossed her arms, hating the prick of tears behind her eyes. “Yes. Of course I do. I told you that.” 

Leo took a step closer. “Look me dead in the eye and tell me that, Riley. Tell me it’s him.”

She tilted her chin up defiantly, looking Leo in the eye, but she couldn’t make the words come. “I - I - of course I do! I just said that! I don’t have to justify myself to --”

Leo pulled her to him, plunging a hand in her thick blond hair and crashing his lips to hers. He felt Riley pause for a whisper of a second before she opened her mouth to him, soft and sweet. He let his tongue slowly collide with hers, twisting intimately together, their bodies finally learning what their hearts already knew.

Riley moaned softly against his mouth, her own hands coming up to tangle in his unruly curls. Gripping her against him, Leo picked Riley up so their bodies were pressed together, the passion between them released. 

After what seemed like only seconds, Riley slid down Leo’s body. He felt the loss instantly, as though the sun had gone behind a cloud. They stared at each other breathlessly. 

“What now?” Riley whispered. Leo brushed his thumb gently across her kiss-swollen lips. 

“Now we come clean. Finally.”

[a-tardis-at-downton]

A/N: It’s two in the morning and I don’t have the gumption to do any more editing. Inspired by REO Speedwagon and Nicholas Rush, the prickliest teddy bear in the world.

In which Belle French deejays for the university radio station and enjoys REO Speedwagon way too much, Rush is her grumpy college professor who just wants her to succeed and encourages her in his own way. Belle, as always, sees the best in him because really, Rush did mean well. He’s just awful at emotions.

Belle French was nose deep into Steinbeck’s To A God Unknown, a personal favorite and occasional re-read of hers. The headphones were looped around her neck, the bulky earpieces providing a perfect perch for her chin as she passed time in the silence of the radio station. The sound box was to her left, within arms reach, and the computer awaited her next queue up, blinking steadily as the final strains of U2 faded out. Belle’s focus was pulled away from her book and she popped her headphones on, patching the mic through.

“This is Belle French, the only lonely DJ here at ZZUX, and here we have our next request. Bob, if you’re listening, U2 is the band for ultimate broken-hearted jam, so, well chosen, my friend.”

She was tired, and if it was unprofessional to clear her throat on air, there was no one around to say otherwise. All she had for company is Joseph the fortunate farmer and the steady flurry of snow outside the studio windows.

“Up next is a personal favorite of mine. Let’s take a moment to appreciate REO Speedwagon’s Keep On Loving You,” Belle nearly grinned at that. It was something of a personal joke of hers, considering her and three other people listened to the university’s station at three in the morning. What’s the harm in playing the same song five nights in a row?

Kevin Cronin’s vocals, high and smooth, filled the air, and Belle shifted in the ridiculously uncomfortable office chair she’d roped from her boss’ office. What Keith didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. Returning to her novel, she pressed on, eager to discover the fate of Joseph and his paramour, as if she hadn’t read it a thousand times. The words began to blur in front of her, and she blinked blearily. Belle rubbed her eyes, and at that, nearly missed the blinking light of the telephone, and sighed.

Slipping off her headphones, Richrath’s amazing guitar solo faded as she answered the phone. 

“Hello,” her voice chirped, saccharine and kind, despite her annoyance at being interrupting.

“You know, I’ve been listening to this station for some time, and quite honestly I enjoy it. What I don’t enjoy is hearing REO Speedwagon five nights in row,” A unfamiliar brogue grunted out over the crackling line, shaking and unclear. Belle cast a look towards the window, mind drifting to her early morning walk back to her apartment.

“I’m— sorry?” she said after a moment, brows knitted together in confusion.

“Yes, well, see to that, if you will.” Click.

“I— Oh, my god, he hung up on me.” Belle glowered at the phone, jamming it down on the receiver and scowling at it as if the inanimate object were at fault. Her mood had been sullied by this mysterious caller, and she ground her teeth, jaw jumping with irritation.

“It’s three in the morning, prick!” Belle shouted. To absolutely no one. Because she was alone.

God, she was tired.

Heat suffused her cheeks, and a blush of shame erupted across her features.

“Fuck.”

Her head dropped to her hands, and she frustratedly rubbed at her temple. Her physics final was next week, when class resumed after break, and she had no idea where to start, she’d offered to take Mulan’s shifts for the next month, and she was royally screwed after the disastrous Thanksgiving row she and Gaston had gotten into. He’d been a bit awful, honestly, as far as boyfriends went, but she’d thought that perhaps, with a little attention and some more of her time, he might see that they could be well-suited. That hadn’t gone over well.

Instead, she’d been bulldozed by every class she’d had this semester, and her only hope of passing her physics course was by the grace of God Almighty, or Doctor Nicholas Rush, as it were. Rush was everything Belle despised in professors; arrogant, too casual, and cruel to those he perceived as beneath him, which apparently was everyone, he annoyed Belle and she could not wait to pass his exam, though with her luck in that course, she’d have to dredge through it for one last semester until he pitied her and passed her through simply for the joy of never needing to see one Belle French again.

Belle French was an utter failure, and she felt very little joy in passing off the headphones and studio duty to a bright-eyed Fred later, who, bless him, had thought to bring Starbucks. Belle’s walk home was slow and meandering, her eyes squinting at the dappled rays of sunshine that burned through the slate of grey clouds above. Her bag was heavy, and she stopped to readjust the straps a time or two. Augusta was a small town, with a main road blinking out advertisements from shop windows that boasted New Tech! IPA here! Town meeting at four!; it was certainly smaller than Portland, Maine, and as such, the sleepy town was rarely witness to her morning journey home. Today, more than ever, she thanked the unknowing residents, because she had slipped on the unsalted sidewalk no less than three times in the three block walk to her apartment, the snow and ice making travel difficult, and her heels, chosen prior to the unexpected weather, making travel impossible.

A good twenty minutes later, Belle stumbled noisily into her home, hissing out a no as her keys clattered on the table far too loudly for— she studied the clock— six in the morning.

A door squeaked, and Ruby poked her head out from behind, her long hair tangled with sleep and her eyes still shut.

“’S okay?”

“Yes, Ruby, I’m sorry, everything’s fine. Go back to bed.”

Belle plopped onto the couch, staring forlornly at her backpack, it’s keychain winking in the pale morning light. She groaned, guttural and long, and reached for the remote instead.

The next night found her similarly busied, and she thought very little of the caller who had demanded so callously that she stop playing REO Speedwagon. Classic, she thought, and anyone who says otherwise is a complete idiot.

Complete Idiot did, in fact, call again when the opening strains of Don’t Let Him Go played, the steady, staccato drumbeats filling the air.

“Please, stop playing REO Speedwagon. Maybe Def Leppard, Journey, or if you like trite favorites, and you seem to have taste limited by that, try Aerosmith.”

This time is was Belle who hung up.

She played Take It On the Run next.    

By the time dead week was over, she’d run the station’s entire music selection through twice, and not a single person was the wiser for it.

The morning of her final dawned dark and gloomy, and Belle thought wryly, that it was fitting really. The physics study session she’d had with Ruby had been largely unsuccessful, especially since Ruby had taken the course over three years prior. Belle tried not to think about how she’d wished she’d done the same.

Pulling on her leggings and a crisp, blue pencil skirt to match her blue buttoned blouse, she shoved her boots on before lumbering out of her room. The clatter of a plate on the counter had her furrowing her brow.

“Ruby?”

Belle cocked her head, watching as her friend pointed to the clock.

“I thought you left, like, an hour ago. Dude, you’d better grovel now.”

8:45.

Her physics final was supposed to start at—

No.

“Nononononononononono!” Belle shouted as she sped down the stairs, swaying wildly as she peeled out onto the street, running as fast as her boots could take her.

Eight and a half long minutes later and out of breath, she tugged nervously at her hair, scuffing her boots on the shiny marble tile outside of Doctor Rush’s office. She was fully prepared to prostrate herself at his feet, offering up whatever she could— which wasn’t much at all, she knew— in exchange for a chance at the final. Without it, there was zero chance of her passing Rush’s class. An hour had gone by, and rather than bore herself to tears when she was so close to them already, she opened her novel and immersed herself in the dusty California farmlands.

A grunt interrupted her, and she looked up to see Rush fishing in his pocket, his keys jangling as he stuffed one into the lock on his office door. Her book snapped shut, almost of it’s own accord, and Belle sprung to attention, her full height drawn up the length of her spine. She stood straight as he walked into his office, unbothered, it seemed, by her presence. She may walk away defeated, but she could still be pro— no, no, there was no pride to be had here. Not when her entire future lay on the temperament of an ill-mannered professor.

His office door was ajar, and the soft light from the single lamp beckoned her. Still unsure, she gave a tentative knock at the doorjamb.

“Enter,” came his voice, and he was quieter today, less firm, somehow, and though she’d never say it aloud, and certainly not to him, he sounded soft. Bristles of silver stood out on his cheeks, and he sucked in a breath and let it out in a long suffering sigh.

“I s’pose you’ve come to grovel now, aye?” His glasses glinted in the warm light of his reading lamp, even as he sat, the leather of the chair groaning as he settled. Belle gulped. Bravery, that is key.

“Y-yes. I— really… I had a late shift, and…”

“I’ve not got all day. Out with it, or you can leave and see me next semester.” Rush leafed through the sheaf of papers on his lap, pulling a few out here and there, seemingly at random, his dark gaze focusing on his task.

“You’re a horrible professor, you know.” She hadn’t meant to say it, really, but she was running on three hours of sleep and no coffee and dear god, if the earth could just open up and swallow her now, that would be amazing.

His long hair fell forward limply as his head snapped up, and Belle’s eyes widened, her mouth open to offer any apology for her gross misstep. Instead, a sharp noise jolted her from her stupor, a loud crack filling the air, and then another, and another.

He was— clapping?

“I’m—”

“Miss French, you astound me. Not only do you fail to grasp the most simple of concepts, but you manage to insult me and tell the truth at once. Well, half-truth,” he leaned forward, his lips pressing tightly together as he studied her, and she had never felt more exposed, “You see, I’m not horrible at teaching. You are horrible at retaining what I’ve taught, however,” he considered her once more, “however, I’m not a complete bastard, as some in the rumor mill would suggest. As such, I will let you take my final. I want to see how much you’ve learned.”

Belle’s eyes blistered with tears of thanks, but before she could offer a watery gasp of contented and heartfelt apology, his eyes traced her knotted and mussed hair, her disheveled clothing, and bid her sit. Any further arguments from her would wait until her grade had been submitted and she was out of his class.

“But that final will be taken here and now, Miss French.”

Dread crept up her spine and she dropped into the seat across from him. Rummaging in his bag a moment, he brandished a copy of the final in front her, before handing it over.

“I assume you came prepared?”

Belle searched her bag, but it was with a heavy heart that she remembered lending Ruby her last pencil before heading out for her late night shift the night before. Flushing, she couldn’t bear to see the smug grimace on Rush’s face, instead taking her time selecting a pencil from his proffered canister.

The clock ticked away the time, and an hour and thirteen minutes after she’d begun the exam and fifty-seven questions into the blasted things, she noticed. A gentle hum of a tune had begun, struck up by the man across from her. He had barely moved, except to cross the short distance to his small coffee maker and pour two cups earlier, one of which he had quietly placed next to Belle— unexpected, the coffee filled her warmth. At least, she told herself that it was the coffee and not the act of kindness itself that made her grin. But now, his foot tapped out a beat, soft against the plush carpet of his small, cramped office, and the beat was vaguely familiar.

The bassline for REO Speedwagon’s Keep On Loving You. Suddenly, realization crashed in around her, as though she’d been doused with cold water.

“Yes, well, see to that, if you will.” The snide tone, the deep brogue that demanded so much of her. A brilliant blush of scarlet bloomed across her cheeks, and she was thankful that Rush didn’t look up. Her heart seemed to beat out a thunderous dance in her chest, and she swallowed her nerves. Surely he knew who she was, of course he had. He had to! Belle studied him then, perhaps seeing him for the first time. His blazer was crumpled where it lay on his sidetable and his navy teeshirt had a few snags, and a slight stain, she assumed from coffee, even as he absently lifted his mug to his lips and let a drop dribble from the corner of his mouth.

“Shit!” he hissed, scrambling for the box of tissues that was perched very haphazardly at the edge of his desk, “sorry,” he placated, as though remembering he had company as he blotted at his stubble. His brown eyes found hers, and she allowed a grateful smile to brighten her face, and Rush attempted one, it seemed. His lips quirked into something of a half-grin, loose and unnatural, and for a brief moment, Belle wondered if Rush had many reasons to smile often in his life.

She busied herself with the last of her final then, and with only two questions left, Rush’s voice was clear and pronounced as he called, “Time!”

Belle set the final in his outstretched hand, and Rush nodded.

“Go.”

Though she’d been dismissed, Belle took her time gathering her things, and offered a last smile.

“Thank you, Doctor Rush, really. Thank you.”

She pulled the door shut and went on her way.

Three weeks later and well into her last semester, she spotted him crossing campus, coffee thermos in his hand and files balanced in the crook of his opposite hand. Belle grinned, and started for him.

“So,” she caught up to him, and Rush startled, “why do you hate REO Speedwagon so much?”

Rush paled, and the way his skin drained of color almost had Belle laughing, but she grinned good naturedly instead, and his cheeks soon pinked.

“I—”

“No half-truths this time, Doctor Rush.”

“I don’t, not really. You,” he straightened, drawing to his full height, and his glasses perched awkwardly at the tip of his nose, reddened with the January air, and he coughed, “you were lonely. I thought maybe I would call. You said you—”

Belle’s heart flew to her throat, and her lips parted. Her lungs squeezed out her last breath in a puff of white, and her hands found purchase at the lapels of his blazer. His lips were soft beneath hers, pliant and unsuspecting, and his stubble scratched into her chin and lips and cheeks as he moved with her, pressing close, as if he wanted to be as near to her as he could.

He tasted of coffee.

A shuddering gasp for air parted them, and Belle was unsure which of them had broken their embrace.

“Call me Nicholas, please.”

“You’re an idiot, Nicholas.”

Belle grinned.

Three and a half months later, Belle’s last shift at the university radio station had begun with Nicholas plying her with a new book and a very large coffee, earning him an eager kiss.

Sometime later, nose deep in her novel and with the beat of Seven Bridges Road fading out, the phone rang.

“I’d like to hear Can’t Fight this Feeling,” the caller requested, Nicholas’ voice soft and low over the crackle of the phone line.

“By?” Belle nearly laughed at the long suffering sigh, audible over the line.

“REO Speedwagon.”

[dannissa13]

Shut up and drive

Here is the version for reading on Tumblr. Enjoy.

Things change and life goes by but sometimes meeting the right person can turn everything upside down. Rich boy and his driver find each other and shenanigans ensue. Love, sex, drugs, drag queens and one crazy aunt are on our heroes path. Will they? Yes! Won’t they? Maybe. 

He was never a person to hate his job, nothing was able to break his spirit, not even years of police academy training and that subsequent gross termination from the force, huge drug scandal he had gotten himself into like a complete moron. But shit just kept getting weirder and weirder as years went by. And as far as he knew this one promised to be the most difficult and shitty of all. Driving some wealthy prick around who’s barely legal to drive himself, and probably getting him outta trouble over and over again. Promised payment was good though, the first time in forever he’d have extra money after paying for everything and living on a budget won’t be a problem anymore. Is it worth all the trouble in the end - he’ll see.

He cursed his mother’s “exquisite” taste not once or twice in his life, both adult and not because when it came to picking a name for him she really pulled a good one on everybody. Choosing the fancy “Percival” over hundreds of others, she might have been blinded by vanity or trying too much to look like a rich lady but ended up screwing said Percival’s childhood in a big way. He didn’t blame her, not in the slightest. People have whims, and Mum was always drawn to extravagance. He sighed. All this recalling of the past didn’t help his cause, especially not today, on his first day of a new job. He had a few before, random and scattered in amounts of income and trouble he had to go through to complete given tasks but this type of thing was entirely new. After getting kicked out of the police, when he was still young and ambitious, trying to do the right thing, speak up in the situation he then deemed wrong, life gave him not even lemons, it gave him nothing. So, after piecing together what’s had left of his dignity he went on to do anything to keep himself afloat.

And now he’s supposed to just sit here, smoking, even though the new contract specifically forbids him from doing so in client’s car, waiting for said silver spoon fed, spoiled, rich kid, he read so much about in spare time before work started. Heir to the richest family in this goddamn city, lucky little bastard, had his fair share of fun in early days, before the “tragic and sudden death” of his parents, “poor thing, orphaned at such a young age”. Newspapers were full of ripe headlines when that happened, pouring more and more pointless condolences towards the kid and his new caregiver, boy’s aunt, a conservative politician with two daughters of her own. Now a senator, the woman held everyone in an iron fist, especially her children, but the rotten brat was still kicking, fits of his “heroic” benders almost a stuff of legends. That’s why Percy was here - not really a bodyguard, but close. Legally bound from actually disclosing true nature of his work to the client but obligated to take care of him and make sure “no one gets into trouble”. They’ve hired a wrong guy for this. Percy grinned. This is going to be interesting.

The mansion he had parked next to was glorious, all marble, columns, and statues, ivory colored facade with huge windows, in some overly fancy style the name of which he could never remember, with gargantuan wooden front doors adorned in ornate metalwork, polished so well you could see yourself in it. The definition of luxury, over-the-top wealth, and a bit tacky for his own taste. Something more modern would look so much better. There was more to estate than just the main building - opulent looking glass arboretum full of exotic flowers, a pool, the size of a small lake, servant’s shed, guest house, a parking garage, tennis court, and a huge field of perfectly manicured grass lawn, surrounded by high hedge fence, enclosed in a real, stone fence, with gates, guards, dogs and cameras. What did he get himself into this time around?

Last drag of the cigarette burned tips of his fingers and next one was in his mouth even before he could consciously think about pulling it out of the pack. Waiting sucked, chainsmoking was bad for him, but so was the unbearable boredom of simply sitting on his ass and Percy knew so much more of this would come later. The first thing he’ll buy gonna be a smartphone, maybe even the fancy one. Finally, something good will come from working for rich assholes.

Huge doors of the mansion flew open with a bang that startled birds on all of the surrounding trees and made Percy jump a little. With that noise came others, even less pleasant sounds - people were loudly and angrily fighting on a subject matter that wasn’t new at all for both of them. Yelling insults at each other, two voices Graves couldn’t identify were getting louder and a fight was coming to an end. With triumphant “Leave me the fuck alone and get the fuck out of my business!” tall and slim figure, dressed in all black slammed the doors shut and marched towards the car with a focused determination of a very pissed off person.

After taking a closer look of the cloud of black angry angst heading his direction, Percy realized that he got royally screwed over - this was his client and now he was supposed to deal with an attitude like that. This better pay off, because Lord above know Graves needs a stable job now more than ever, but if this little shit would try something like that with him, Percival definitely can’t guarantee politeness and flexibility around problems. Ain’t nobody got time for that.

When only a few steps separated them boy stopped, still not looking at Graves, sighed deeply and then, like a magic trick, untensed and unfurled, like dropping an act or changing a mask. This sudden metamorphosis was a bit creepy, to say the least, but seemed genuine, like something he was doing not for the first time. A new smile lights up the young fresh face and shining eyes were on Percy, studying him up and down. After waiving his hand lightly kid greeted him

- “Hi. You must be my new driver, right?”

- “Hello. Yes, I think I am exactly that.”

- “I’m so terribly sorry for what you just had to witness. My aunt and I have way too different points of view and our outlooks on life certainly collide from time to time. I promise you I’m way more well mannered with people who I don’t personally disdain.”

- “Okay, I’ll remember to not get on your bad side then.”

- “And we’ll have a grand ole time. Speaking of manners, I’ve completely forgotten mine. I’m Credence, Credence Barebone, nice to meet you. Yes, yes, I know what you’re thinking - what in the hell kind of name is that. Truth is, my parents were not only rich but also weird. I know, right, eccentric wealthy people calling their spawn an unusual name. Who calls their child something so bizarre in the twenty-first century, ha?”

- “You are not the only one wondering about that. Percival Graves at your service.”

He did a joke curtsy, flourish and a bow. The young man chuckled.

- “Nice to meet you, Mister Graves. We’ll definitely find a common ground, with names like that.”

- “Just Percival, please. I don’t really like being a “Mister”, makes me think about my age quite a lot.”

- “Then you should call me by my name too. Just Credence, no misters here either.”

- “It’s a deal!”

Kid grinned and shook Percy’s hand vigorously, maybe too excited for his own good. Thankfully this all went smoothly and this Credence wasn’t such a stuck up dick Graves imagined him to be after all. That’s a win in his book one hundred percent.

The boy climbed into the backseat of the car and Percy sat behind the wheel. It was action time, finally. After fastening his seatbelt and fixing rear view mirror Graves started the engine and slowly drove to the mansion’s main gate. Before leaving the grounds completely he turned to a kid and firmly insisted

- “Belt. I won’t go around with my passenger not following the safety rules.”

- “Alright, alright, I’ll buckle up. But only for you.”

Wait, was that a wink? Is this little bastard is flirting or something?

And they went to the city. The ride wasn’t really that long and Percy always found the radio to be boring and somewhat annoying so they drove in near silence and there was a comforting quality to that. Credence looked at the window, forehead pressed against the glass, seemingly so deep inside his thoughts he won’t be able to support any meaningful conversation even if he’d tried to. Graves didn’t mind though. They both were just enjoying the view.

When the destination was close his passenger left trancelike state of overthinking something and spoke

- “It has GPS, you know?”

- “What does?”

- “The car. Tablet and a mount for it are probably both in a glove compartment somewhere. At least they were the last time, but I don’t think that previous guy could have stolen it. Our security is really vigilante.”

Percival laughed softly

- “Well, thanks for the heads up, now I’ve changed my mind about stealing all of your earthly possessions and getting easy money. I’ll have to earn them the old fashioned way - by honesty working my ass off.”

- “You better do that. Where else I’ll find such a charmer with a sense of humor matching mine.”

- “You won’t be able to, I’m unique in that, even my brother doesn’t get my jokes half of the time.”

- “What to say about mine, then? Aunt Mary thinks I’m an asshole for trying to prank her so many times. But let’s be honest, she’s kind walked into some of those herself, I just tweaked the stuff a little bit.”

This version of Credence he definitely liked more, not the yelling angsty one from the morning encounter. Hopefully, he’ll continue to be more like this and this endeavor will be fruitful.

*A few weeks later*

He’s nice, this kid. Polite, sweet, caring, great sense of humor, huge personality, charisma, and charm just roll off him in waves but there is something about him that’s wrong. Percy is not able to pinpoint what’s exactly going on with the boy, but he knew trouble when he saw it. Credence was hiding from something and said something haunted him day and night. Yes, on a surface level everything seemed okay, all smiles and laughter, but at times, you could see the real boy, that emptiness behind his eyes, that dark despair in his actions, that unbearable desire to just run away from all of it. Kid acted out on those urges constantly - Percival knew all too well the tendencies of self-destructive behavior.

They met a few times a week and Graves drove him around to a plethora of different places - business meetings, lunches, social events, huge shopping malls and clubs, restaurants - you name it. Kid seemed to be fine, not really getting in trouble, except a few small ones, like drinking himself silly on some occasions or going out somewhere high as fuck, but mostly things went smoothly.

This day promised to be no different - drive him to a club, pick him up later, go through the closest drive-thru and get greasiest, grossest fast food, chow down on it and bring the kid back home. Easy-peasy, right? He’ll have some free time with Credence is partying and a meal afterward, pretty sweet deal.

Pulling up to some hot spot, all flashy lights and blaring music, security guards with stone faces, huge bulky dudes that can knock anyone out with just one punch, guest list, overpriced drinks and a crowd both out and in the facility - yeah, not surprising at all, boy loves places like this, Percy climbs out of the car and opens a door for his passenger, who is already a bit high on weed after pregaming with his pals.

Kid stretches his long limbs before getting out and shoots Graves an interesting look, half sided smirk indicating that he’s up to no good. Oh, that is a familiar expression, mischief written over his features in big bold letters. This deserves a sigh. What is he planning and what kind of problems they will get into? The boy starts talking which makes everything clear - two places in a list for only one person because his friend flaked out and it would be such a pity to let so much money go to waste.

- “Cmon, let’s go in! Better than just sit there and wait for me like a dog. It’ll be fun! You should have more fun, with me!”

Kid is basically whining all while pulling at his sleeve. Graves sighs again and reluctantly agrees.

- “Okay, okay, please leave my arm alone. I’ll go with you, but promise you’ll behave. It’s important.”

- “Whatever you say, daddy!”

- “Don’t call me that, goddamnit. I’m old, yeah, but not that old.”

Percival locks the car and puts on the alarm, only then following Credence, who’s long gone, chatting up the guy with a tablet in hand, talking about the guest list. The ease of getting into a party when you are loaded is fascinating. Securities part and tablet guy leads the way, into the small dark hallway leading up to even darker but bigger room. Some EDM is playing, crowd jumps up and down under the strobing lights and lasers, the smoke machine works it’s hardest and there even bubbles in the air. Well, that’s definitely overdoing it.

There is a bar with some stools but otherwise seating space is scarce, leathery couches beside the walls are jam-packed some people even sitting on a floor next to them. Credence says, more like yells to overpower the music, that he’s going to go say hello to a party’s host, whose birthday it is and he’ll be back soon. Percival signals to the bar and to his best abilities pantomimes that he’ll wait there, sitting his behind onto the first free space available. Bartender gestures to a gloving menu with rather inventive cocktail names, all of which are overpriced for the amount of booze they’re containing. Graves points to a water and gets a shrug and a glass of it with ice a little lemon and a straw, how fancy.

The place is loud, as he’d expected, flaring lights and all that smoke obscure the vision, his water is more expensive than a good meal and people surrounding him are superficial, stupid and shallow. Maybe coming inside wasn’t such a good idea. Getting a headache isn’t a priority right now. Time is put on hold, so he drifts away to his thoughts and goes through a few of the waters while waiting.

Boy jumps on him unexpectedly, long arms snaking around Percy’s chest, warm breathing on the back of his neck.

- “I’m back, darling! Are you having a good time without me?”

He’s happy, aloof and cheery. That means uppers, but not a lot of ‘em. Credence is rubbing his cheek into Graves’s, skin a little damp, eyes shining in the dark, irises are blown out and blush strong. Not the worst feeling, to be honest.

- “Not really. Are you ready to go? It’s kinda late.”

Kid starts to whine, pouting and dragging his voice

- “No, I wanna stay! We haven’t danced yet! I want a drink! My friends are still here!”

- “A drink you can have, but we’re going afterward, you’ve had enough for one night.”

Most of the people are actually left, maybe some of the aforementioned friends too, but boy was high and overly excited.

- “Give me Red Bull Vodka! And my friend’s gonna have it too!”

- “No, I’m not going to. Driving, remember?”

Another pout. This is kinda endearing but mostly annoying.

- “Then I’ll drink both! Maybe some E-s to go faster? We’ll come home in no time!”

So amphetamines it is. Goddamnit, this is going to be a disaster.

- “No. Sorry, kiddo, I always ride sober.”

- “Is that a challenge?”

- “No, that’s the way of living a long life with as little bones broken in the car crashes as possible.”

Credence looks like he’s going to cry. Lucky the liquor comes and boy downs it like water, one after the other, grabs Percy’s wrist and marches towards the exit in almost a straight line. When the doors of the establishment are in the view and fresh air is only a step away, kid stops fully, turns around and slams Graves into the wall full force, lips suddenly on his, soft mouth half open, running long fingers through man’s hair. He is taller, not by much, yet it’s noticeable. Percival has no idea how to react to that but it ends as quickly as it’s started. Whispering so close to his face that every breath tickles the skin, Credence explains

- “My petty ex, sorry for that. If he would have seen me here he would’ve told my aunt. I’m not supposed to be in this place. You were my only chance for cover.”

- “Understandable. Let’s go home before some other tattletale asshole recognizes you.”

A brisk walk in chilly night air almost erases the feeling of damp warmth from Graves’s lips although memory will be there forever. He has to hold the stumbling boy upright, latter crushing hard after adrenaline wave faded off. Laying him down is a hard piece of work, lanky limbs tangling and body not cooperating whatsoever. He’s conscious thought, able to speak, think and assert his will. Also for somebody who’s both high and drunk Credence is very talkative

- “You know what we should do? Shrooms! Like, right now. I know a guy, he’ll hook us up. It’s less than a twenty-minute drive from here, let’s go!”

- “This is a bad idea. I’m not taking you there.”

- “But I wanna be fucked up! Really fucked up, tripping balls. Aunt Mary will be so pissed anyways so I might just get the best of it and spend her rant watching rainbows riding each other.”

- “You are already fucked up enough and gonna feel like shit tomorrow’s morning, trust me.”

- “Who gives a damn about tomorrow? It’s not gonna be my problem, I’ll be out cold.”

- “And afterward, you’ll vomit all over the place, cry and wish to be dead.”

- “Yeah, that’s exactly how you know you had a good time last night.”

- “Sounds good when you are in the moment, but I know from experience how actually disgusting you’ll feel. Been there, done that, doesn’t recommend this to anyone.”

Kid laughs that stares in disbelief

- “You did some? Really? Don’t seem like a person who would, exactly, all adult and boring, no offense.”

- “I did. Stopped after that garbage wrecked my life. You should too before it’s too late.”

- “It’s already too late. She won’t let me live in peace or live at all, that’s probably my last years so I wanna go out with a bang!”

What is he talking about?

- “Care to elaborate, maybe?”

- “My parents. I think you know what I’m talking about.”

Yeah, that. Fuck, this is not a territory Graves wanted to thread even if he could manage to be careful and respectful.

- “Yes, I’m sorry. I’ve read about the tragedy.”

- “Oh, you most definitely had, it was all over the news: “Courageous senator takes the orphaned nephew, the only heir to the combined wealth of his parents, under her wing, giving him a new home and two sisters to play with.” I’m sure, Ma’s and Pa’s money wasn’t the main reason. She’s my actual aunt, of course, on the father’s side, his younger sister, mother had no real family that I know of, but as much as Pa was rich she was smart. They made an excellent business duo, the Investor, and the Inventor. Father’s money quadrupled in the first two years of their marriage. Match made in Heaven, people said. Aunt Mary wasn’t convinced though. She always thought my mom wasn’t trustworthy. When I was little, I’ve heard them fight, my parents and her, and, for a few months though my mother was a witch, because of my aunt’s words. Only after I’ve become a little older I understood that she used the different word, the one that starts with the “b”. She probably hated them both, her brother for being older and inheriting all of the money and my mom, for taking the control of my dad over, being an intruder, an outsider. She took his last name, she named me according to a family tradition but that wasn’t enough. For those five years, I’ve spent in her house, living alongside their family the only thing I’ve dreamed of is to get out as soon as I can. No, she never did anything bad to me per say, but she’d never hesitated with the reminders of her kindness.”

That was a truth bomb of a century. Damn, this kid is screwed. Percival has no idea what to say or how to handle this and the rest of the ride is grim and silent. They arrived at the mansion somewhere between late night and early morning, when everything is dead asleep and sun isn’t even thinking about rising, only living souls not in their beds are last security shift, who lets them through the gates. Credence is still silent, seemingly upset with Graves’s lack of tact and discretion around the painful subject but Percy still has no idea what to say

- “Listen, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked. It’s not like I don’t give a shit, I just don’t know how to say this. So yeah, sorry.”

- “I’m okay. Good night. I’ll call you when I need your services.”

Oh, that was cold. Boy disappears inside the house and from his life for a little. There is no calls or texts on his new phone, only some bits and pieces from servants group chat about Lady being angry and grounding the kid. Chief of guard spills a little more, telling that Credence got a big whooping and recovering from that, which doesn’t sound right. The situation is shitty from every perspective.

Percival comes by the servants quarters once in awhile trying to get any news, making friends with everyone who can tell him anything useful but people are definitely scared of the Lady Mary whom Graves haven’t seen yet. Who even has servants and calls herself Lady these days, good God.

Everything goes back to normal suddenly, much like it went south before. He wakes up one morning to a phone call and comes to pick up Credence like nothing’s happened. Boy definitely hides something but after the last time, Percy’s not touching this with a ten foot pole. This is not his problem.

*Two months later*

Their next outing is to another club in Brooklyn, how predictable now. When they went to gay clubs it was in the low and never to the same ones. Well, this tactic was working in their favor for now.

Boy always asked not to wait for him in front of a building, for hours on end, and to pick him up after he’d texted. That worked out for them both. Killing time isn’t that hard and there are some coffee shops to hang out in and maybe hit on cute baristas, or just read something like an actual person. Nightlife isn’t for him no more.  

Text he receives is pretty concise

“Wait for me outside in ten minutes. Don’t come out.”

Okay, it’s working time. Parking near the club’s well-lit entrance Percival checks his watch - one minute left, good job, and prepares to wait some more.The person approaching the car is definitely not who Percy was expecting. Long lean legs in some kind of designer shoes, heels high and soles blood red, shiny skimpy skirt, he wasn’t sure of the material but it looked like a translucent leathery condom, so probably latex, and a top, made of the same thing over a small, almost nonexistent bosom, covered with a contraption made entirely out of thin straps and metal rings, like a cage snugly fitted over the stranger’s upper body, fingerless gloves and a small hat on top of huge mane of raven hair - the whole getup is black, see through and scandalous. Nice.

This wasn’t a first time he drove some of the Credence’s friends around, part of them young, pretty and kinda stupid socialites, fun, drunk and a bit petty, part - weirdos, bohemian fancy fucks who were high on some shit, yelled nonsense and asked dumb questions. This one was probably both, beautiful and weird so ride promised to be a handful. Maybe boy’s aunt will finally leave him alone about getting a girlfriend when he shows up with this one here, but probably bringing home the lady, who’s dressed like an expensive fetish prostitute will result in even more scrutiny.

The girl opens a car door and not really that gracefully plops herself in the backseat. For such a young woman she’s wearing quite a lot of makeup, features dark but skin so pale it was almost white. He hadn’t expected her to start undressing either. Was this some sort of prank, or did Credence actually ordered him a hooker?

Her long red nails went first, one by one as she presses fingertips to them and watches colored plastic fly away. Next to go were gloves, then the hat, shoes and the leather body holster. She wasn’t looking at him at all, minding her own business and Percival was a little confused, to say the least. When the skirt and the top started to come off he decided to take the situation into his own hands.

- “Hi, there! I have a quick question if you don’t mind: what in the actual fuck are you doing and who are you for God’s sake? Why are you almost naked in a stranger’s car?!”

- “What are you talking about, Percy? You definitely know me, c’mon.”

With those words, the last pieces of clothing were gone revealing smooth pale skin, complete absence of breasts and shiny tape covering the genitals. Wig went off, cap too, and there was Credence in just ridiculous amount of makeup staring back at him.

- “Wait, are you secretly a drag queen?”

- “No, actually, but some of my friends are. It was a themed night and I’ve decided to try it. On a more important note, though l didn’t pin you as a type who’s aware of gay culture, you know.”

- “We all got our secrets.”

- “Now I’m interested. Spill it!”

- “Ugh, okay. I had a different life before rehab and met people from different places. Is that enough information?”

- “Of course not! But I’ll wait until you’ll be ready to talk more.”

This kid. Rummaging through a purse he whips out a package of wet wipes and starts rubbing his face, peeling lashes off and smearing black and red all over. That’s a mess. The whole packet is barely enough to remove everything and boy’s skin looks inflamed, some lipstick residue left behind. When it’s time to peel the tape of his junk Credence shoots Percy a sharp look which makes the man averted his gaze to the road ahead, glancing in interest while kiddo shimmies tight jeans on up to the knees and rips sticky bonds with a hiss. Going commando is brave idea after all of that. After putting the t-shirt on boy leaves the car to return borrowed garments to a tall tanned queen waiting him out. They chat for a little, painted blonde bursts into laughter a few times while looking at Percy and then back to the kid. That little shit. They hug before parting and then she waves you both goodbye as the car drives away.

Credence is surprisingly timid now, trying not to look in Percival’s general direction and twirling his fingers, fidgeting in his seat, checking the belt and doing all the stuff people usually do when they’re worried.

- “What’s wrong? You’re kinda jittery, kiddo.”

He freezes completely with a look on his face of a bunny who just saw a snake unhinge its jaws to devour him. Truth comes out of him in a few minutes, almost a whisper

- “Can you keep a secret? This secret. Please. She’ll freak the fuck out if I show up looking like I was before. And I couldn’t do it inside. Please don’t rat me out.”

- “I won’t. Also, why should I? Nothing good will come of it if I do that.”

- “It’s just I can’t trust anyone my aunt hires. She makes them spy on me and tell her everything. There’s no one inside that house to support me.”

- “Your aunt didn’t hire me, main security guy did. And I’m not from your house, right. This is safe with me.”

Credence’s voice is soft and it sounds like he’s sobbing

- “Thank you. I’m sorry I’ve acted like ass before. I’m such a dick to you.”

- “Stop it. It’s okay. Let’s get food and go home. What would you fancy this time of evening.”

He is laughing now and it’s so much better seeing him smile than cry.

- “Taco Bell! Let diarrhea come, I’m ready.”

Now both chucking, they go into the drive-thru and eat tacos in the night. It’s the most peaceful after party in Percival’s memory. When he drops the boy off latter still smiles and that’s warming man’s heart to the very bottom.

*Next week*

Past several days are packed to the brim with activities, meetings, and plans. Kid’s birthday is coming and he is busy as ever. One night that he gets off, after supervising all the preparations, is the night of fun for him and a horror show for Graves. They go to some friend’s house, then to a liquor store, then to another friend to pick up five people - it’s insane. When the gaggle of tipsy youngsters finally get off at the destination he asks the boy to stay for a little

- “Hey. Be safe there, okay. Don’t do anything stupid.”

- “Yes, daddy. Can I go now?”

- “Oh God, don’t call me that. But in all seriousness, keep yourself in check. And one more thing. Credence, please, stay out of trouble this time around.”

- “Aww, you really care about me”

- “Somebody has to, you know.”

- “Alright, okay, I promise I’ll try my best. Bye-bye, I’ll text you.”

He blows a kiss a runs off into the crowd. That deserves a deep sigh. After the few hours of mindless driving and visiting numerous cafes for a cup of coffee Percival finally hears the phone chime. Text appears on the screen

“Pick me up.”

He pays quickly and rushes out of the building, while chiming resumes, one text after another

“I’m outside”

“Take me home”

“Now”

“Percy, I don’t feel so good”

“Please come and get me”

Fuck, what did the kid do? Graves speeds up, ignoring few road signs to be there for the boy as soon as he can. It’s a record time, but he could have been arrested for reckless driving. When Percival pulls up to a club Credence is nowhere to be seen. Shit. He’s trying to find the kiddo behind the building, in the alley where people smoke, take drugs and fuck, sometimes simultaneously. Thankfully, Credence is there, back against the wall, eyes glassy. That’s bad, really really bad. Percy jumps out and hurries up to his precious passenger.

- “What did I said about staying out of trouble?”

His response is slow, voice weak and raspy

- “Leave me alone. I know I fucked it up, let me wallow in my misery.”

- “Fuck no! You’re coming with me. Right! NOW! Move it, young man.”

Graves has to drag the kid into the back seat and put seat belt over almost non-responsive body. Goddamnit, both of them are so fucked. Boy is blabbering nonsense at this point

- “Just drop me off at some hotel, I’ll be alright, she won’t even notice I’m missing. I’ve done it before, quite successfully, actually. Just lie to the old bitch in the morning and everything will be fine.”

- “Listen, I don’t really want to be a part of this.”

- “Oh, me neither, buddy. She’ll go ballistic. Totally not looking forward to that”

- “This can cost me a good paying job, you know. The job that I really need. I’ve helped you as much as I could, but this you’ll have to face alone.”

- “I always face her alone.”

- “I don’t think you have a choice here. We can do this the easy way or the hard way and you are the one who has to choose which way it’ll be. I’m not really a fan of the second option and it might cost me this job and some other things, but you know that I’m bound by contract and can’t really do anything about that. And I’m also the man of my word. Plenty of things I’ve fucked up in this life, but promises - never. If you can’t keep your word you can’t be a decent man.”

Percy waits for response but gets no answer. Fucking brat has decided to give him a silent treatment. When the sound of an opening car window distracts Graves from driving it’s already too late - Credence is already vomiting copiously out of the full speed driving car. Goddamn little pig. The rattling of the door handle is the last thing Percival wants to hear at the moment. Is that idiot for real? Does he really want to just walk out of the moving vehicle?

Pulling over near some dingy alleyway, as far from the street lights as possible, Percy jumps out of the car first, to help out. The younger man is heaving, face red, puffy and sweaty, capillaries in his eyes busted from forcefully hurling over and over again. This is incredibly shitty. He helps the boy stumble into the privacy of the alley and rubs circles on his back, whilst the latter pukes his little heart out, last few spasms just empty dry heaving, the kind that will only make you feel worse. Shit. Coming back now, looking like this isn’t a good idea.

Something from not so recent memory surfaces and Percy is ready to act on it. Grabbing Credence tightly he marches back, shoves him in and floors the gas pedal. Closest 24-hour pharmacy is five minutes away but they got there in two. After gathering the supplies and paying Graves storms out just in time to catch that goddamn idiot boy falling out of the car. After even more dry heaving and tears they finally go to a place Percival wasn’t ready to show to anyone yet - his home.

Juggling keys and a plastic bag with all the medical things in one hand and trying to pull essentially passed out Credence up the stairs man basically fell inside his shitty apartment. Oh, this is gonna be one long long night. Dragging lanky body, even though kid was freakishly thin, was difficult especially when trying not to bang him up too much. Percy’s bed, this time thankfully made, was the only choice of surface to lay an unconscious body on. Digging into the bag, Graves produced out an I.V. unit, tubing, and a needle. Being out of practice could’ve hurt this idea but man focused all the mental capabilities he owned and pierced boy’s vein giving him much needed fluids and medication to make Credence better. Turning him on a side and leaving a bucket for any mishaps Percy left to make himself coffee. So that’s how his friends felt when he was like that. Shitty kind of feeling, he’s not gonna lie.

In a few hours and two more packets of I.V. fluid kid was better, not so ghoulishly green in the face and less choking on his own breath. It was time to talk some sense into him. Walking into a room with a sick person in it is always hard so some psyching up was needed. Graves slapped himself in a face a few times and entered. Boy was laying there, on his bed, in his home, suddenly so miserable and distressed and small looking, curled like a fetus on his side, face wet with tears. Like a punch in a gut, that is heart-wrenching. Percy tries to be understanding and gentle

- “Hi, sweetie. Are you feeling any better?”

Soft murmur is almost inaudible

- “A bit. Thank you.”

That’s probably bullshit but at least he’s trying to be polite, so some progress was made.

- “Do you want anything? A glass of water maybe?”

Boy whispers something Graves can’t hear. Dammit. Now for even more pointless asking.

- “I can do anything you want, really. I know full well how bad you feel right now, kiddo. Let me help you.”

Credence coughs a few times and rasps out an answer Percival was dreading

- “I would like to stay here, with you for a while. Maybe even longer. It’s nice, your place, it’s real and lived in and so homey, you know. Feels like someone actually lives here, not like a fucking dollhouse I exist in.”

Oh, here we go. That’s why Graves doesn’t help people. Fuck, how to lay him off now, when he found himself a “knight in shining armor”, a savior from his horrible life. Damnit!

- “Listen, kid, you might think that your life is the shittiest, worst life in the whole wide world, that you were robbed of your happy childhood with your loving parents in your pretty mansion with awesome toys but you’re wrong. You are privileged and pampered and don’t have any clue what outside life is like. You’ve never worked for anything, never really struggled and you never will because you’re rich. That woman won’t have any power over you when you’ll turn of age and on your merry way you go, all parties and no worries, until the end of your days. This is not your life and this life is not for you. There is not a single goddamn chance you could survive on your own.”

- “So I’m just some kind of spoiled rotten brat for you, ha? I’ve expected that, kinda predictable, really.”

- “Can’t fucking deny what’s there. Money corrupts people. I get it, okay. You’re bored. Having everything doesn’t satisfy you no more, so it’s time to mess with other people’s lives. Now, lemme tell you something - I don’t wanna be messed with. At all. I have my shit to deal with, so please, can you not add to that pile. It’s kinda huge as is.”

Credence starts crying for real now. Huge tears, sobs, and snot coming out of his nose. Fuck, it’s only got worse. Percy needs to do something quickly, so, in a state of complete and unfiltered panic he leans over a boy and gives him a full body hug, pressing wet face into a fabric of his shirt. Kid is wailing, grabbing him like he’s drowning. Graves clumsily pets his head and back and tries to murmur something soothing. Crying stops in a few minutes and Credence just lays there, pressed into him and breathing heavily.

- “Listen, I didn’t mean to hurt you like that. You’re not a complete stranger to me and I care about you but that’s not something I have a lot of experience with. Suff like that is hard for me, I don’t know what to say or how to feel. I want to help but I don’t think I’ll be helpful.”

- “This is all her fault! That disgusting, vile, worthless bitch ruined my life. She’s always onto me and it’s hard for to be genuinely disinterested and unenthusiastic about things I like and she knows that and uses that knowledge to get to me every single time. Concealing my true feelings, my real identity, being fully aware of how I act, how I talk, how I move is a fucking torture. That repulsive scum of the Earth is always ready to strike and always happy to do so. I hate her, I’m tired of this and I just want to be myself, to be accepted. It’s so draining not only emotionally but physically too.”

- “Well, I’m sorry for you, kid, but there’s nothing I personally can do about it. It’s your life and the power is yours. Tell her to piss off, take the situation into your own hands and do whatever you like. And whatever she does to you isn’t your fault. You are stronger than this and you can fight her back. Take what’s yours   and leave.”

- “As soon as I turn twenty-one. Next week. I’ll do it! Thank you, Percy.”

- “That’s the spirit! I’ll support you as much as I can, but, ultimately, you are the one to do it. And I believe you can.”

- “Thank you.”

His eyes are glimmering and he’s smiling beautifully. Fuck, Percy is so screwed. Boy leans in and parts his lips a little. Oh no, Graves feeling the huge mistake coming yet still goes with it. The kiss is soft and chaste, Credence’s hands all around him and gentleness of this encounter melt the rest of coldness inside Percy’s soul. They sit calmly, still hugging and kid finally drifts off. The man decides not to leave his side and falls asleep next to the boy. It’s the best night of sleep he had in years.

Morning is hazy, they hurry back to the mansion but before leaving the apartment Credence kisses him again, morning breath and all, still that doesn’t bother Percival even a bit. They drive in nice silence, holding hands, boy now sitting in a front seat and it’s magnificent. He’s probably falling in love, fuck. Before leaving the car kid turns around and with a serious look tells Percy something that both comes as a shock but also as an old news

- “I’ve liked you from the first day we met.”

- “You know, I kinda got that from all of your flirting.”

Boy blushes heavily.

- “No, you weren’t sneaky at all. But that was sweet. I like you too. Now go before we get in trouble.”

Credence squeezes man’s palm before climbing out and going inside. Oh good God, what did Percival got himself into?

*Credence’s Birthday*

So, the day has come. Twenty-first birthday of Credence Barebone, the single richest miserable boy in the world. Percival was ready, he bought the present and cleaned his apartment, leaving beautifully packaged box in the middle of the bed. Champagne, strawberries and chocolate cake in the fridge, pressed suit on, few spritzes of cologne - he was prepared as fuck.

Driving up to a highly decorated front gate Percy spotted the man of the hour himself, dressed more casually than Graves expected. Tight leather pants, plaid shirt, and a mesh tank top. Yes, sure, he looked incredible in the getup but how about the fancy party they were supposed to head to? Something definitely went wrong, kid never came this far to meet him.

Credence almost ran to a car wasting no time on climbing in, close to Percival. They both smile

- “Hello to you, birthday boy! So what’s all of this is about?”

- “Hi, handsome! Well, we discussed my party with aunt Mary and I’ve decided to spend my day the way I actually wanted to. So we’re going to a club my friends booked up and we gonna party ‘till we drop! Cool, ha?”

- “You had a fight, right?”

- “Yes, we had one. But I’m a legal adult now and I can do what I want to. So let’s go!”

- “Are you sure that it’s a good idea?”

- “Oh come on, old man, don’t be such a grouch, just join me for a bit of harmless fun. We’ll have everything - drinks, drugs, food. Let’s go, you really need something like this just about now. I personally know how big of a cunt my dearest aunt can be, so, for putting up with Auntie Cuntie’s bullshit you need a good reward. Forget about her and let’s roll!”

- “Okay, but I’ve warned you, just by the way. If we’re gonna get into something you’ll bail us out, it’s kinda your turn.”

- “Fine! And don’t be so grumpy, you’ll like it, it’ll be fine, you just need some molly and life will get peachy!”

- “That’s not the best idea you’ve had. Let’s not get high at all, okay. It’s bad for you!”

- “So why’d you smoke then? It’s bad for the health too, you know, it’ll destroy your body eventually.”

- “Oh yes, I’m well aware of that. But tell me, sweetness, what’s not gonna kill you these days? The air we breathe is polluted, the things we eat are highly processed, everything around us slowly goes extinct, diseases becoming more and more potent and garbage litters our habitats, even going into space. We’re fucked as a civilization and as a species, we’re doomed as a society. Why should I care about lung cancer or heart attacks when I have a bigger chance of dying even before that can happen to me. And, then, why do people who live “healthy” lifestyles are still dying of the same things. Yeah, I don’t really give a fuck anymore, if it’s doing nothing to help or harm me really, why stop.”

- “Well, fuck. That kind of life philosophy is deeply flawed and quite depressing.”

- “I don’t really care much about that.”

- “Maybe you should, and things in your life won’t suck as much!”

Percival chuckles

- “ And maybe I want something to finally suck me off.”

Boy’s face flushes in pink so fast upon hearing those words. It’s delightful seeing him flustered and hiding his eyes. So cute.

- “The rant about smoking was sarcastic actually. I wanted to quit for a long time now. Who knows, maybe you’ll help me.”

Credence is even cuter now, hopeful and happy and so adorably helplessly sheepish with affection. You can feel the waves of adoration rolling off him. Such a sweetie.

They parked next to the club and Percy recognized the place.

- “Is that the same place you did a drag night in?”

- “You’ve remembered it? Yes, my best friend works here and he’s, sorry, she’s booked for today.”

- “Tall, tanned blonde? She made a great girl out of you. But don’t worry, I prefer you as a boy hundred times more.”

He’s blushing again. This is so fun. They get in and place is decorated with every possible thing in the party store, bright colors and crinkling plastic everywhere. A huge group of people waits for them and cheers when Credence walks in. All those people are his friends. And he deserves each and every one of them.

People surround kid’s and congratulate him, wishing a ton of things and filling his hands with presents. Percival hopes boy is having a good and excuses himself to a bar. Well, he just can’t skip a celebration like this, so they are Ubering home tonight because he’s drinking.

Six Long Island iced teas and five White Russians later Percy is pretty shitfaced, relaxed and happy. The show in the background isn’t as obnoxious as he’d expected but maybe alcohol gave him more tolerance to that kind of bullshit. Music starts playing and everyone storms to a dance floor leaving him alone with bartender. Gesturing for a refill he hears footsteps approaching

- “Make that two, Candy. And put it on gentlemen’s tab. No lady should pay for her drink.”

Percival turns to find that drag queen from before sitting next to him, dressed in sparkly rhinestoned black leotard, insanely high heels and bunny ears, tail is probably somewhere there too

- “Hi! Did you want to speak to Credence? Unfortunately, I can’t find him in the crowd, but you might be able to do that from the stage.”

She’s laughing

- “No, deary, I wanted to speak to you. But first, the treat.”

And downs her drink in one gulp. Impressive.

- “You seem like a nice guy, I’ll give you that. And the benefit of a doubt. But our dear, sweet Credence has been through hell and back and I don’t want nobody hurting him, you get me? So, in case you don’t actually have feelings for him, stay the fuck away. Is that clear?”

- “More than clear, Ma'am. I do actually have feelings for him, and think that’s none of your business but, considering that Credence likes your company so much I won’t tell you to piss off right away. We can try to be friendly to each other at least.”

- “Well, I like your style. He chose right this time. Don’t break his heart or I’ll break your face. Bye.”

And she downs his drink too before leaving. What a bitch. Strong, confident, cool bitch. The bartender puts three shots before him, on the house. Graves waists no time and takes them one after the other. Oh Jesus, was that a moonshine? While he’s trying to remember how to breathe, kid jumps onto his back and squeals from glee

- “Best. Party. Ever. This is so awesome!”

He seems off, though, movements twitchy and weird, excitement clearly chemically amplified. This is worrying.

- “We gotta go, Credence, it’s time for you to get home. I don’t want it to be like the last time.”

- “I don’t wanna do that. Not now, not ever. That place is not my home, it never was. It’s just the house I live in. I don’t have a home since Ma and Pa died.”

This again. Dammit, Percy hoped not to provoke that type of conversation on the boy’s special night.

- “I’m talking about my home, kiddo. I have something there for you. That was supposed to be a surprise but I just couldn’t help myself. So, whatcha think? Let’s ditch them and go?”

Boy smiles so widely his cheeks probably hurt.

- “Okay, but gimme a kiss first!”

And they do kiss, boy’s tongue inside his mouth and weird taste with it. Graves notices the effects only when it hits him. That’s uppers. Credence shoved a bunch of molly in his mouth. Goddamnit. Alcohol and drugs hit him hard, all inhibitions lost and mind open to anything. Everything’s a blur, faces, shapes, lights. It’s all so bright and bizarre and loud. He remembers only fragments: dancing, kissing, drinking some more, singing, contests and doing coke of off Credence’s stomach. How they end up in the bathroom is a mystery yet the door’s closed and no one is there to interrupt them passionately making out.

When thin long legs cross behind Percy’s hips and pull him flush against kid’s crotch a brief moment of lucidity brakes through all of the substances bringing one sober thought - this isn’t right.

“Graves, what the fuck are you getting yourself into? He’s barely an adult, he’s technically your employer and his mental aunt will eat you with shit for breakfast. You are so fucked. Why are you doing this? Just say no. Politely decline his advances, go home, masturbate for a few hours and the next day it will be like nothing ever happened. He’ll forget everything, he’s so high. And you are high too. This is such a bad idea.”

The voice in his head, that annoying subconscious worm who ate his hopes and dreams, that piece of shit, was drilling his brains again with the usual. Although Credence’s advances were a good distraction, especially when he starts palming Percival’s cock through the fabric of his pants and moans softly.

Ah, fuck it. What did the kid yell the other day? YOLO? So be it, you really only live once, it’s time for him to live again. Maybe that’s drugs talking or maybe it’s just the years and years of suppressed desires coming back to him, but Percy was ready to party like he did long long long time ago and there was nothing to stop him. Finally.

And his lean beautiful body promised infinite pleasure, the most sensual good time on this earth. Goddamnit stop thinking about him this way. Fucking poet all of the sudden, this always happens when he’s high.

But all of the words in the world can’t describe the way Credence rubs himself against Percival’s body and how hard, hot and bothered he is. Oh, how strong is the desire to just devour him whole. They kiss aggressively, biting and wrestling their tongues, hands palming one another greedily. Boy is panting already, eyes dark with want and lips bright from kissing and moist with saliva. Percy’s dress shirt goes first, suit jacket and tie he cautiously left in the car before entering the club. Kid’s top follows, leaving him in mesh only which spikes man’s interest even more. Biting a pink nipple through the fabric, squeezing his ass and rutting into boy’s hardness with his own is intoxicating.

Credence is moaning louder and louder as less and less clothing separates them. Percival pulls his own trousers and boy’s leather pants to expose them both and rub themselves together. Kid’s jaw goes slack as he bucks into the hand pleasuring him and digs fingers into Graves’s back. The sting of pain only makes him hotter and now aforementioned leather garment is pulled down to Credence’s ankles and Percival is firmly between them, petting the soft skin on the back of boy’s thighs. Only thing latter can choke up is a desperate plea  

- “Back pocket, there’s lube. You’ll tear me with that thing of yours without it.”

Another wild kiss. Another breathless moan

- “Stretch me first, please. You’re fingers, I want them inside me. Hurry! I can’t handle myself no more!”

So Graves is lifting Credence’s whole body up into the air and propping him on a sink counter, boy’s knees squeezing Percival’s ribs while latter’s hands ran across untouched buttocks and loin. Prying said lube is a task in on itself and Percy has to open the package with his teeth, spitting chunk of wrapper on a floor. Lathering his fingers quickly he gently traces middle one between boy’s cheeks before teasing the tight ring of muscle with barely a tip. Kid shivers and pushes himself forwards seeking penetration.

- “Hold your horses sweetie. You wanted to be ready, right? So let me help you.”

- “Don’t tease me, please. I want you so badly. Percy, fuck me!”

- “Your word is my command, baby.”

And with that one finger is inside boy’s body. His hole flutters when Graves curves a fingertip upwards upon thrusting in, picking up pace. Credence moans every time Percival moves and soon he’s ready for more. The second finger goes in smoothly, joining the first, stretching hot, velvety tightness. A perfect litany of sighs moans and gasps leaves boy’s lips when his mouth isn’t occupied by Graves’s.

Leaving a trail of bite marks and hickeys, bright purplish-red against almost white skin Percy showers boy’s neck and collarbones in attention while adding the third finger in. Kid writhes and gasps trying to find purchase and to sink more on digits pumping in and out of his body. Wet sounds fill the room, boy is begging for more with his movements and noises and Graves complies.

Pulling out completely Percy gives Credence a soft kiss and before kid is able to say anything else opens up a condom he found in the same pocket lube was in. Just touching himself right now is too much, the head of his cock swollen and slick with pre-come. Unrolling the rubber slowly Graves hisses at the feeling. He hopes Credence is ready because he can’t wait anymore.

Pushing in slowly he looks into boy’s eyes intently, watching his expression, gentle not to hurt the kid. Surprisingly it easy, sliding inside to the hilt while Credence is tensing completely before going slack and moaning. He is tight, hot and trembling, delirious with raw want. As Percy’s trying to steady himself before going any farther boy starts rocking forwards, impaling his body on a hard cock, letting out soft sobs. When they change the angle kid goes ballistic, clenching around Percival, clutching his neck, clawing the back of man’s head. Graves repeatedly thrust into that sweet spot, grinding it some more.

All those drugs are messing with his ability to last and he is already getting closer than he would have liked to. Every friction sends a red-hot wave up the pit of Percival’s stomach and when they pick up the pace it becomes almost unbearable. Sharp jolts of pleasure make his head swim and hands shake. Boy’s breath, hot and damp against his skin makes him prickle with goosebumps, makes his nipples hard as he rubs their bodies together, chasing kid’s warmth, pressing Credence’s rock hard cock better them.

Throaty whimpers boy makes go higher in pitch, he quivers and trembles and rubs himself back against Percy’s skin. Rhythm is punishing, bodies move in perfect sync, everything else completely fades. Only them and sweet pleasure ahead. Kid’s shaking rasp voice in his ear begs for more

- “Don’t stop, please! I’m so close! Cum inside me! Please! Feels so good!”

Broken moans and gasps leave boy’s mouth while Percy earnestly thrusts into him, hard and fast, rocking the thin form underneath him, making Credence arch like a bow opening pale throat for further assault. They both are so unbelievably close, kid’s body clenching hard, core tight with anticipation and Percy can’t take it anymore, hoarsely moaning

- “Now be a good boy and come for me!”

And Credence unravels completely, almost shouting, convulsing, squirting cum all over their bodies, his body spasming chaotically, muscles fluttering, milking Percival’s cock. Graves climaxes hard, rocking himself into his sweet boy, grunting, and moaning. Aftershocks are exquisite, warmth and relaxed calm happiness fill them both. Embracing each other they pant for air and kid giggles. After a slow and gentle kiss, Percy pulls out and takes the condom off, tying it and tossing into a trash can. Credence pulls his pants up, face scrunching as the material touches his ass. Then chuckles softly when Graves gives him a concerned look

- “I’ve never been fucked like this before. Good God, I can barely stand. You’ll probably have to carry me to our car like a bride now.”

- “And I will. Do you need time to recover?”

- “Not really. I’m still very much high. Let’s go, we should come out if we wanna go anywhere.”

- “Did you plan this, by the way?”

- “Birthday sex? Yes. The best gift in the world! What else did you get me?”

- “Round two, if you’re a good boy.”

Credence most definitely is expected by that proposition and after hasty fixing their clothing both men walk out only to be ambushed by a cheering crowd. Fuck, they heard everything. Percival has no idea where to hide his face and how to avoid stares so the first drink in his proximity ends up in his mouth before he can even collect himself. And another one, and another one. It’s a bliss, being so hammered that nothing bothers you anymore.

He doesn’t remember how exactly did they get home, but they are in his bed, nude and cuddling, boy’s head on his shoulder, legs tangled together, hands wrapped around each other and for the first time in forever Percival feels complete. He’s loved and he’s loving back, all thanks to this disaster of a man lying beside him. Credence is amazing and deserves happiness and Percy will do anything to make his dear beloved boy happy.

The end.

P.S. Oh, hi there. Thanks for reading, please leave me a comment or like and reblog if you’d enjoyed it. Ask me stuff here on Tumblr and my other fics are here and here. Go bother me, I’ll be happy to talk to you. Bye.