#until he shows up and realizes it's even worse: guitar tutoring

[the-cookie-of-doom]

Not for the first time, Kim wishes he had been born an only child. 

“Wik is too well known,” Kinn had said, logical as always. “It’ll raise too many questions if he suddenly disappears.” 

“And it’s your fault!” adds Tankhun with an imperious huff. “If those thugs hadn’t thought he was you, they wouldn’t have taken him!” 

“I wouldn’t have been taken,” Kim says, because he’s an asshole, and he really, really hates his brother. All of them, really, but especially Wik. “Maybe if Wik wasn’t so—”

“Kimhan.” Their father, this time. “Had you completed your mission, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. Consider this your penance. You will act in your brother's place to ensure he is not missed, while we attempt to find him, before he’s killed.” Because of my mistake, Kim thinks.,

And that’s the end of it, really. Kim may hate his brother the way you can only hate yourself, but that doesn’t mean Kim wants him to suffer for his mistakes. 

And now he’s here, strutting into Anantremeka university with a guitar across his back that he barely remembers how to play, and way too many eyes on him. 

Kim tells himself it’s going to be fine. He only has to go to class for a few hours. This isn’t the first time he’s impersonated his twin. It’s been years, sure, but he slips into character… not easily, but with a kind of familiarity that makes it feel like ease. 

Only a few hours. 

He can do this. 

***

“P’Wik! PWik!” 

Kim’s face hurts from smiling. Still, he turns around to face the boy shouting his name, and once again engages a practiced, disarming smile. He knows he looks sweet, harmless, and endlessly patient for the thousandth person to come running up to him today. 

“Hello,” he greets warmly. The boy comes to a crashing stop before him. His hair is messy and wild around his face—cheeks flushed, of course, embarrassed and exerted—and he’s carrying a guitar. Kim gave up on his own half-way throughout the day; he didn’t seem to need it, and he certainly wasn’t going to play it otherwise, so he’d abandoned the prop to his car during lunch. 

“P’Wik,” the boy gasps. “Are you okay?”

What? 

“You missed our session, and when I tried to call, you didn’t answer—” the boy twists his hands in his sleeves. Offers a sheepish smile, shyly meeting his eyes. “I—uh—I got worried? It’s okay if you were busy! I know stuff comes up, I was just…” he finishes lamely, shrugging, his smile never once wavering in the face of Kim’s stunned silence. 

What, exactly, is the kind of session he apparently missed? Since when does Wik willingly spend one-on-one time with his fans? 

What the fuck is going on? 

“I’m sorry,” Kim says, when he realizes the silence has stretched too far, and the boy is starting to look the wrong kind of nervous. “I did. Have something come up. I would have called, but I broke my phone—I don’t have your number.”

The lie comes easily. The boy relaxes, his entire body going soft in a way that makes the predator in Kim want to bite, and he makes some confusing gestures that Kim doesn’t try to follow. 

“Oh! That’s okay. As long as you’re okay, I mean, if everything is okay.”

My brother is probably being tortured because he was too incompetent to keep himself from getting kidnapped, and it’s my fault because I failed to kill the people that did it, but otherwise…

“It is.” 

“Okay. Good. Cool.” 

The boy—Kim really needs to find out his name, if this is someone his brother knows, and therefore Kim will be expected to spend time with—fiddles again with his sleeve. Kim slips his phone out of his pocket, unlocks it, and hands it to the boy. 

“Give me your number?”

“Sure!” The boy takes it, eagerly typing in his contact information. Kim eyes the name when he passes it back—Porchay—and fires off a quick text so that Porchay will have his number, too. He doesn’t like it, doesn’t want this boy having access to him like that, but it’s the kind of thing Wik would do. That a normal person would do, exchanging this information like it was nothing. “Do you—I mean, we don’t have to reschedule if you’re busy—”

“I’m not. Anymore.”

“O-oh. Great! That’s great. When do you…?”

Kim mentally reviews the schedule he memorized last night. He has classes until this evening. He was going to spend the remaining hours of the day digging into his brother’s disappearance, even though Kinn assured him it was being handled by their own staff. 

He could just… skip his afternoon class. It would serve his brother right, tarnishing his perfect reputation just a little bit. Tankhun would never forgive him, though. 

“This evening,” Kim sighs. “Five o’clock?” 

“That works! Do you want to meet in the studio again?”

“Yes.” Kim will need to find out which studio, exactly, they’ve been using. His brother has access to several. 

“Okay. I’ll see you, then! Thank you, P’Wik!” 

Then just as quickly as Porchay collided with Kim, he’s bouncing away again, and Kim finally registers he isn’t wearing the university uniform. Instead he was dressed in a light blue shirt with BOC International emblazoned on the chest. Kim waits until he’s out of sight to google the emblem; it’s a high school. 

What are you doing, Wik? 

[divineecelestial]

I'm Going To Ruin You, Eddie Munson | Eddie Munson x F!Reader

| Word Count — 6.3k |

| Summary — Eddie Munson has had a huge crush on you since the sixth grade and with the help of your "adopted" kids, you realize you might like him back. You make a move because Eddie clearly isn't going to. |

| Warnings — Graphic depictions of s*xual activity, Virgin!Eddie, slight Sub!Eddie, slight dom!reader, female reader, oral (m receiving) Please let me know if I missed anything! |

18+ Readers Only! Minors DNI

A/N — Just a disclaimer, both Eddie and the reader are over the age of 18, about to graduate so around 18-19 and they are in the same grade (Pretend he wasn't held back) Eddie is literally the biggest simp for you lmao

Eddie Munson was, quite painfully and embarrassingly, in love with you. And you were, quite painfully and embarrassingly, oblivious. The summer of seventh grade, when his nimble hands would ache from the metal strings of his polished guitar, he began playing with his small and unremarkable band with faded leather pants and studded jewelry. His deafening music would reverberate through the venue until his ears would ring and the conservative adults would usher him off the dirtied stage. He learned about his soul-shattering love for blaring music during the sweltering heat of that summer and the overwhelming wonder of one particular girl. He shouldn’t have missed a chord, shouldn’t have experienced that daunting nervousness when you stepped inside the crowded room. His performance was going well, something he was doing almost every night until his restless and thrilled eyes landed on you. You stood within the dull crowd with a glittering smile and his sweaty hands missed the chords as his thumping heart skipped. Your eyes glowed with the low lighting and your smile widened as you nodded encouragingly and he was a goner.

High school wasn’t a pleasant time for him. He had a small group of friends with poorly-made matching t-shirts, began selling a variety of low-leveled drugs, and despised the popular jocks with his entire being. He used his money on his extensive tabletop game and his guitar. He might have listened to his teacher’s lessons if you didn’t sit near him in every class you had with him. It was as if his teachers knew about his huge crush on you and purposely arranged their seating chart for his failure. 

And things might have been easier, simpler even, for him if you were only pretty and had no substance. He could think you were pretty and move on with his teenage youth, but you were the total package. You were strangely intelligent—the type of intelligence he had only seen in movies and you were top of your class. He was almost certain your IQ was unnaturally high and he could’ve sworn you knew archaic Latin and he didn’t even know that was something a person could learn. 

He may have been able to disregard your existence and label you as another popular know-it-all, but you were abnormally kind and didn’t speak with scornful or repulsed glares to anyone outside of the social norm. You tutored the underclassmen and brought them small and thoughtful gifts when they passed their finals. You joined the search parties for missing teenagers and brought extra flashlights. You even cleaned the gym after the pep rallies with the cheer squad. It might have been easier for Eddie if you were shallow and cold-hearted, but you were hellbent on ruining his life with your unwavering perfection.

To make matters worse for him, you were outrageously and unnaturally pretty. It shouldn’t have been possible, he often thought, for someone to look like you. He couldn’t focus on class and the lessons when he did show up because you would walk inside with your pink dresses and skirts that were too short but he didn’t mind in the slightest. You should have been on the cover of magazines and on the big screens. He could stare at you for hours and never be bored.

His pathetic crush on you remained one-sided, unknown, and buried until three unsuspecting freshmen were recruited for his Dungeons & Dragons club and his unreciprocated crush blossomed. 

Eddie Munson’s life was simple and uneventful, unbearably unornamented and he was okay with his simplistic lifestyle. He was certain his senior year was going to be brimming with forgettable experiences. That was until you walked inside the overcrowded corridor alongside the three freshmen that joined his club a few weeks prior. Dustin, Mike, and Lucas casually strolled beside you with their freshly-washed and wrinkled t-shirts for the Hellfire club and Eddie was convinced this was some illusion. He watched with wide and disbelieving eyes as the old metallic door closed with an echoing thud and the clamoring voices of the students faded into hazy nothingness. The morning sunlight poured into the crowded corridor and warmed your widening smile as someone made a joke and Eddie could’ve sworn this was a chick-flick slow-motion scene unfolding before him; you were moving through the crowd with golden sunlight across your soft face and a few of the students greeted you. He recognized Robin, a band student, playfully shove you with her shoulder and began speaking to you as if she knew you her entire life. 

You rubbed the light brown curls of Dustin Henderson with a teasing smile, chuckling as he shooed your hand away before you stepped inside your classroom with Robin. Eddie closed his decorated locker with a reverberating echo before stomping on the disappearing group of young boys. “Why the hell didn’t you tell me you were friends with [Your Name]?” The question fell from his tight mouth before he could even process what he was asking. The group of boys jumped at the sudden arrival and they began glancing between each other, stuttering as they struggled to choose an appropriate answer. 

Dustin nervously shrugged as his wide eyes moved to his Dungeon Master’s. “We were supposed to?” 

There was a moment of brief silence as Eddie analyzed them. “How long have you known her?” He tried asking the question casually, clearing his throat as he loosened his tense muscles. 

Lucas hesitantly inched closer. “Two years or so?” He answered, slightly confused. You occasionally babysat for them when they were younger, mostly gossiped with Nancy on the duvets of her bed, and endured every unfortunate event with the Upside Down and the Russians alongside everyone. “She used to babysit us.” The answer wasn’t a lie, just not the entire truth.

Eddie clapped his jeweled hands together. “Great,” He declared and the young boys couldn’t dismiss the glimmer of undiluted elation swirling within his dark eyes. “You’re going to put in a good word for me.” He was convinced his five-year plan of making you gradually fall in love with him was going absolutely nowhere—which was it was because he couldn’t even speak to you without becoming a stuttering mess. But, these endearingly annoying freshmen were his chance to make something happen.

Mike furrowed his eyebrows together with thick confusion. “Good word?” 

“Yeah, tell her all about my wonderful qualities.” There was another silence as the three of the freshmen exchanged knowing glances. There wasn’t much they could tell you. Eddie rolled his eyes. “Think of something!” 

Dustin quirked an eyebrow. “And why can’t you just talk to her yourself?” Eddie simply provided an exasperated look that said, ‘Are you seriously asking that question? “Yeah, makes sense. All right.”

The cafeteria was brimming with clamors of thundering voices as everyone dispersed to their designated tables. Some of the jocks idly threw basketballs and cheerleaders fumbled with their green and yellow pom-poms, there were some random musical notes echoing from the practicing band kids, and the laughter from the Hellfire Club traveled through the crowds. Eddie spoke with some of his friends, casually munching on a small bag of chips as they discussed their ongoing campaign. It had been developing for weeks and the end was nearing. He was immersed in the conversation, far too submerged with the intensity of his story-telling to have noticed your approaching figure. You were speaking with Dustin, who was attempting to convince you that you didn’t know what you were talking about. “You’re crazy if you think pizza is better than burgers.” He exclaimed and you rolled your eyes, placing your tray across from him. 

You opened your soda and didn’t notice as the conversation dissipated, slowly fading as the members of the club looked at you with wide eyes. “What do you know? You’re, like, ten.” You joked as you took a bite of your food.

Dustin raised his eyebrows as if he heard the most insanely stupid remark, which to him it was. “Fourteen!”

You waved your soft hand dismissively. Your cheeks were full, extending outward as you chewed on your jampacked sandwich. Your eyes glanced from your tray to the gobsmacked Eddie Munson, who was staring at you as if you were some movie star. You smiled as you tried to swallow your food and wiped the crumbs from the corners of your mouth. The table was unbearably silent as your inquisitive eyes moved around, furrowing your eyebrows together. Everyone seated around and beside you, the boys wearing faux leather and studded jewelry with their Hellfire t-shirts, all knew about Eddie’s pathetic crush on you and they were waiting for something to happen. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude.” You glared accusingly at Dustin. “Dustin said it was cool if I joined.” The boys were uncharacteristically enthusiastic when discussing their upcoming club meeting. You were well acquainted with the typical male teenage excitement about board games, but today had been different. Their dungeon master was revered among them and you would be lying if you said you didn’t have a small crush on him your freshmen year.

Eddie swallowed the lump lodged within his throat as he hurriedly shook his head. “N-No, that’s completely fine.” He reassured, his voice somewhat hoarse. He cleared his throat, composing himself. “We were just talking about our campaign.” He braced himself for the immediate disinterest you were inevitably going to express, maybe even disgust or fear. The newspapers and popular magazines were labeling the game as ‘satanic’ and for cultists, which wasn’t favored in the small and conservative town of Hawkins. 

Unexpectedly, your eyes brightened as you leaned forward. “Oh, for Dungeons & Dragons, right?” You questioned, your beckoning eyes glittered with genuine curiosity. “I’ve watched the boys play. Actually seems like fun.” His heart lurched and he was surprised it didn’t tear through his shirt and land right on your manicured hands.

Dustin smiled brightly. “It is! You should join us the next time we play.” 

Eddie was moments from unleashing a painful kick to the boy’s shin before your eyes widened. “Really?” You almost seemed hopeful? “I mean, I would, but I don’t know how to play.” 

“Eddie can teach you!” Eddie was surely going to strangle him until his eyes bulged out. 

Your smile was enough to make a grown man fall to their knees. “You have time in your schedule to teach me with all your devil-worshipping and cult activities?” You asked teasingly.

With the way you were looking into his eyes with a blithe softness, he would have thrown away all his responsibilities to make time for you. “I can postpone my ritualistic sacrifice for another day.” 

“Perfect.”

Eddie gathered his belongings from his locker, which wasn’t much, and sloppily stuffed his bookbag and chose to ignore the crumpling and tearing sounds of his loose papers. He slammed the metallic door and released an oddly high-pitched shriek as you appeared beside him. Your temple rested against the wall of lockers as you clutched your textbook between your crossed arms. The few remaining students roaming the corridor glanced at where you both stood with perplexed expressions. Your eyes widened as you laughed, gently placing your palm on his exposed forearm. “Oh, my God, I didn’t mean to scare you,” You exclaimed as your boisterous laughter filled his ears. “But, I will admit, that was hilarious.” The world despised him and he didn’t know what he did to deserve this. His cheeks flushed but he couldn’t be too mad when you looked so pretty smiling at him like that.

He forced himself to keep his dark eyes on you, painfully ignoring your soft hand touching his skin. “Hilarious, I’m sure.” He feigned an annoyed eye roll but his small smile was still visible. “Did you need something other than giving me a heart attack?”

You smiled sweetly. “Yes, actually. I need a favor. Can you give me a ride home?” Now, he certainly didn’t know what he did to deserve this, but he wasn’t going to complain. Before he could answer, you continued. “It’s just my car is getting fixed and Steve usually is the one who I can count on for last-minute rides, but he picked up a shift and I would totally owe you one.” 

He didn’t even have to think before his mouth began moving. “Yeah, no problem.” You released a relieved sigh. He motioned for you to move forward. “After you, m’lady.” He cringed as soon as he said it but you grinned. As he opened the school’s doors for you, he thought about what he had just agreed to. You were going to be inches away from him and he was going to be smelling your florid perfume and it was just going to be just you two within the small confines of his car. What the hell was he even going to talk about without seeming like an idiot? “Is it true you know archaic Latin?” He asked, unlocking and opening the passenger door for you. He was relieved that he dumped most of his trash away that morning.

When he entered the driver’s side, your eyes were already on him. “Partially true. I’m still learning.” You answered, buckling your seatbelt as he turned the ignition. “Is it true you’re still in a band?” You watched as the verdant trees surrounding the small town slowly blurred. 

He chuckled nervously. “Completely true. We play at The Hideout.” He chanced a small glimpse at your distracted figure. This was something he thought would only happen within his daydreams. You were peering outside the clear glass of his window, the smooth skin of your neck on display, and the fragrance of your expensive perfume filled his nose. “Is it true you’re dating Jason Carver?” He regretted the words as soon as he heard them. He had heard the rumors, everyone had, but there was a small hopeful part of him that didn’t believe them. You weren’t invested with high school popularity like Jason and his clique was. They were obsessed with maintaining an immaculate image and you didn’t really care. That’s why almost everyone liked you.

You turned and your eyes narrowed, cocking your head almost tauntingly. “Is it true you’re hooking up with Chrissy Cunningham?” You asked. The question was a challenge and if he didn’t know better, he was sure you were almost too curious about his potential answer. 

His eyebrows furrowed together and he immediately shook his head. “No! She just wants to buy from me.” He reassured quickly. “She’s nice, but I don’t like her like that.” 

You loomed closer, the leather of his seats moaned beneath you. “Oh, so you do like someone?” Your skirt moved upward as you leaned, the fabric shifted and the smoothness of your thighs became exposed. 

His grasp on the steering wheel tightened until his knuckles blanched. “I mean, doesn’t everyone?” He replied. 

“I suppose you’re right.” There was a thoughtful pause. “Does she know?” 

He swallowed the threatening words. “No, and I think I’m going to keep it that way.” He chuckled, though there was nothing comical about this situation for him. “You know, spare myself from the undoubtedly embarrassing rejection.” He tried to make the joke casual and nonchalant, but the words hurt as he said them. 

You rolled your eyes. “How will you ever know if you don’t even try?” 

“That’s easy for you to say.” The yellow beams of afternoon sunlight warmed your exposed skin as your fingers brushed against the cool metal of the window. He was supposed to be centralizing his focus on the empty road, but he couldn’t concentrate on anything other than you. He watched as the sunbeams illuminated the shadows of your face and you were drowning within a wave of golden sunshine. He would have taken a polaroid photograph of you if he could. You raised an inquisitive brow and a teasing smile rose on your lips. He was a goner. “Oh, come on, [Your Name], you’re you! The Queen of Hawkins. I don’t think you realize just how many people want to date you.”

You laughed as if the mere idea was ridiculous. “None of that stuff matters, Eddie. It’s just high school shit. Any girl would be lucky to have a chance with you.” 

There was a nervous chuckle as he slowed the car for the upcoming red light. “In case you somehow forgot, I’m the freak that plays D&D and sells weed.” As he said the words aloud as you stared at him with an inquisitive gaze, he realized how much you were out of his league. The difference between you two was monumental. He was nobody and you were somebody. “Not a lot of girls are lining up to out with me.” 

You playfully slapped his shoulder. “Oh, come on. That is so not true!” 

He raised his eyebrows. “Really? Name one girl.” He said, completely unbelieving your words.

You hesitated. “Margaret from fifth period.” You were seconds from revealing your slight crush on him—a crush you thought you had gotten over, but those young kids you practically adopted brought every interest you had in him back. 

Eddie laughed loudly, an unexpected but pleasant sound. “You are so full of shit, [Your Name].” 

You couldn’t refrain from laughing beside him. “I’m telling you the truth,” You said, your cheeks aching from how much you were smiling. “You would notice if you just paid a little bit more attention.” 

His cheeks blushed as he shifted on his cushions. “And you notice?” 

You rolled your eyes. “Kind of hard not to when she’s doodling Mrs. Margaret Munson and drooling.” She had used every color of her multi-colored pens to draw around her notebook. 

He cleared his throat, chancing a small and tentative glance towards you. “No, I meant you noticed me?” He wanted so desperately to hear that you, the idolized and worshipped queen of Hawkins, noticed him. 

Your gaze softened as the corner of your glossed lips rose. “Of course, I noticed you.” There was something definitive about your voice, like the mere idea of not noticing him was ridiculous. “I notice everything about you.” 

He had to force himself to disregard the fluttering inside his stomach. “Is that so?” He asked, his round eyes lighting up. “Like what?” 

Your expression brightened. “You stare at me a lot.”

He scoffed, his face scrunching. “What? No, I don’t.” He lied, but there wasn’t anything believable about his words.

“Eddie, it’s kind of hard to miss those big brown eyes.” You knew he stared at you, almost any chance he got when he thought you wouldn’t notice, but you thought it was cute. His eyes would widen with embarrassment before he would scribble indecipherable notes on his notebook, pretending he wasn’t just caught with heart eyes. “It’s okay to admit it.”

There was a moment of silence as Eddie attempted to refocus on the empty street, his flushed cheeks deepening. “I can’t help it,” He reluctantly admitted, his palms dampening on the steering wheel. “No one should be that pretty.”

You straightened as your golden expression softened as the words fell from his blush-pink lips and your slightly shocked eyes fluttered away from him, glimpsing at your baby pink nail polish. He must’ve been drowning inside his own imagination because he could have sworn you looked almost…flustered? No, that couldn’t be right. You were Hawkins’ ‘It-Girl’ and sinking with constant compliments. He had seen you receive them daily. There was a routine with you when you received another compliment; you beamed brightly and provided them a dazzling smile, genuinely thank them, and give them one in return. The good-looking jocks constantly kiss your ass and the pretty cheerleaders praise you for almost everything you did and wore. But he had never once seen you appear flustered. 

You hesitantly returned your timid gaze to him. “You’re just saying that.”

Eddie stopped at another stop sign and fiddled with the silver band of his ring. “Definitely not,” He glanced at you and he was overwhelmed with how pretty you looked. “[Your Name], you are easily the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.” There was no coming back from his sincere admission. He knew it as soon as your eyes sparkled before you tore them away from him, examining your manicured nails as if they were the most interesting thing you’d seen. 

You opened your mouth before closing it again. Your mouth felt dry. “You see? You can woo any girl if you just tried.” You joked, desperate to diminish the feeling of anxious butterflies flooding your stomach. “How the hell did you manage to get girlfriends before?” 

The embarrassment burned through him like a wave of crashing lava. “I’ve never actually seriously dated anyone before.” He talked to a few girls before, nothing worth any significance and they usually ended up as them remaining friends. And it wasn’t completely his fault. He would like a girl, try and fail at making a move, they would flirt and talk, and then any chances of a romantic relationship crumbled every time you unknowingly walked back into his life. 

You raised your eyebrows. “Oh, my god? Really?” There was nothing teasing or snotty about your remark. You sounded genuinely shocked that he hadn’t dated anyone before. 

He groaned with an adorable shyness. “This is the one conversation I don’t wanna have,” He playfully whined. “It’s embarrassing.” Which it was. Telling the one girl he’s had a crush on for as long as he can remember that he had no game was the worst thing that could’ve happened during this car ride. 

You raised your hands in a surrendering motion. “Okay, okay. If it’ll make you feel better, I’ll tell you something embarrassing about myself.” You breathed out slowly, closing your eyes tightly. You couldn’t believe you were going to admit this. “I’m so gonna regret this, but I used to have a crush on you—OH, MY GOD, EDDIE!”

The car swerved and your head nearly smashed into the passenger window before Eddie quickly regained control over the steering wheel. His eyes were wide as you screamed beside him. “I’M SORRY, I FREAKED OUT!” Another car honked wildly at you both.

You gripped the handle beside the glass panel, panting. “WHY?”

“BECAUSE YOU SAID YOU LIKED ME!”

Your house slowly appeared across the road and you clutched your chest, closing your eyes as you sighed. “Holy shit, remind me to never get in a car with you again.”

He was silent as he pulled up to your empty driveway. “You know, my brain is kind of just repeating the part where you had a crush on me.” He said, pointing to his head with a confused expression.

You nodded, grabbing your belongings. “Let’s talk about it inside.” You said, opening the car door. “My parents aren’t home.” He didn’t know how to string a sentence together to explain the wide array of emotions he was experiencing. Swallowing the lump lodged uncomfortably in his throat, he nodded wordlessly. He didn’t trust his voice not to crack. You gently grabbed his hand and pulled him inside. You closed the door behind him, the wooden frame rattled from the sudden force.

Eddie, with a delicate glimmer of wonder, glanced around the house. He looked out of place. His trailer was gloomy and dreary, lifeless. He wasn’t used to seeing a house filled with color and liveliness. You both moved through the emptiness of your home and soon you were in your room. You would peer over your shoulder, making sure that he was really there and not some figment of your imagination. You had fantasized about bringing him to your room and what you both would do if given the chance. Shaking your thoughts, you tossed your bookbag beside the doorway and kicked off your shoes. He examined your belongings placed throughout your room with slight delight. A small smile rose on the edges of his lips as he saw the framed photograph of you, Robin, Steve, Nancy, the young boys, and two kids he slightly recognized. You all looked so happy, unbothered. 

The afternoon sunlight poured into your room and landed on you like a wave of stellar luminosity. “Can’t believe I’m in your room.” He mumbled, looking at your bright wallpaper. This was something he thought of often but knew was never going to happen. But now here he was.

You sat on the edge of your bed. “Yeah, me neither.” You pat the spot beside you. “Sit next to me.” You said, your eyes resembling lavish gemstones.

He complied. “Explain now, please, because I’m freaking out.” 

You chuckled before inhaling deeply. “Okay, it was freshmen year and we had English together. We were partners and we had to write love poems and read them out to each other. Remember that?” You asked him, nervously plucking at the loose thread of your sheets. He nodded. “The way you read your poem kinda had me crushing on you after. And you were in a band and had the tattoos and had the whole ‘bad-boy’ vibe and I was a goner.” And the pathetic truth was that he wrote that poem for you. He was experimenting with his lyrics on one particular night and there was a surge of inspiration when he thought of you. As he read the poem to you, it was an admission of how he really felt. 

“My God,” He exhaled sharply. “And how long did that crush last?” 

You grimaced, covering your face as you laughed. “Until sophomore year ended—”

His dark eyes nearly bulged from his head. “What the fuck?” He practically yelled. He was pissed at himself for not even noticing. “You had a crush on me for an entire year?” 

You peeked from behind your hands. “I know!” You exclaimed, “I tried, you know, making a move, but you brushed me off. I tried asking what Hellfire was about, maybe even sit in during one of your meetings, but all your friends said no and you just kind of agreed before leaving. Then summer break came and I didn’t see you for awhile.” 

He shook his head before pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’m going to kick all their asses.” 

You couldn’t help but laugh loudly. “I just figured you didn’t like me back.” You said, casually placing your hands within his own, interlocking your fingers with his.  His eyes were on you, flickering from your eyes to the plumpness of your lips, then the nail polish of your nails.  He looked like he was lost in thought. “Why are you looking at me like that?” 

“Give me a second. I’m trying to hype myself up for what I’m about to say.” 

You giggled. “Your hands are really sweaty.” 

He chuckled breathlessly. “Yeah, happens when I’m really nervous.” 

You gazed upward at him through the thick rim of your lashes. “Why are you nervous?”

His mouth opened, then closed before he found the right words. “Because you’re really pretty and I’ve had a crush on you since the sixth grade.” 

And there it was; the subtle yet undeniable shift in the atmosphere. You blinked. “That’s seven years.”

Eddie pressed his lips together. “Trust me, I know.” He knew it like the back of his hand. Every year he was thrown into the downward spiral of being a ‘freak’ and every year you only got smarter and sweeter and prettier. 

You twisted the silver band of his ring, failing to restrain the threatening smile. “This whole time?” You asked.

His cheeks darkened as he nodded. “Every time I thought I was getting over it, you’d walk into class on the first day back from summer break and I was done for.” He was trudging through thick embarrassment. “Every time.” He muttered, mostly to himself.

You inched closer. “You never said or did anything.” 

His laugh was small. “I was sparing myself from the undoubtedly humiliating rejection.” 

You could smell his cheap cologne as you licked your lips. “Well, say or do something now.” 

His breathing hitched. “[Your Name], I’ve had a crush on you since the sixth grade and I remember practicing this speech for this exact moment in front of a mirror but I can’t even think straight with how pretty you’re smiling at me right now.”

You were giving him huge heart eyes. You reached forward, placing your palm against his chest. “Your heart is beating so fast right now.” The erratic rhythm skipped as your fingertips grazed his necklaces. 

He glanced at your hand touching him. “I’m pretty sure it’s gonna stop.” 

Pulling your hand away, you leaned forward. “I can’t have you dying before I can tell you that I like you back.” 

Eddie was certain his heart stopped right then and there. It had to and he was dead and this was all some twisted figment of his succumbing mind. This couldn’t be real. “You like me?” He was breathless.

You smiled brightly and that sight was enough to hang in museums. “Yeah, the crush came back when the boys started talking about you all the time. How you were so cool and funny, and before I knew it, I was crushing on you again.” The feeling was gradual, slow and unsuspecting until he smiled a cocky grin while being lectured by the teacher. He remained indifferent, disregarding the teacher’s harsh glares and repeated lectures, strived on being the freak and troublemaker, but blushed with a faint redness whenever you smiled at him. 

Eddie nodded, swallowing deeply. “Me? As in…me?”

You laughed at his disbelief. “Yes, Eddie Munson, I have a big and stupid crush on you.” There were very few things Eddie wanted to memorize; the lyrics of his favorite album, the upcoming schedule for his club meetings, and the laugh you made when it was because of him.

He wiped at his forehead. “I feel like I’m dreaming. This has got to be a dream.” You loomed closer and he could smell your perfume. His eyebrows furrowed together as he glanced at the sheen of your mouth. “Your lips are getting really close to mine.” His voice was a breathless whisper as he wiped his damp palms on his thighs. 

You gave him a ghostly smile. “That normally happens when someone is trying to kiss you.” Your hand caressed the stubble of his cheek, your thumb softly grazing his bottom lip with a tenderness he’d never experienced. He leaned into your touch and relished the feeling of being held lovingly. He didn’t realize how starved he was for you until he was sighing into your hand. Your teasing breath brushed against his skin as you inched closer, the warmth of your mouth radiating. 

Every inch and aching cell of him became yours when you closed the distance, the sweetness of your lips coursing through him. And as you kissed him, he knew that he was done for. He belonged to you for eternity. He didn’t know how was living without ever having felt you against him, to taste you and smell the fragrance of your perfume as he deepened the kiss. Your body curved into him, your hands tangling in his hair as you pulled him into you. His hand moved against the softness of your exposed thigh, his fingertips gently squeezing. You moaned into his mouth as you desperately kissed him and he was certain that was the prettiest noise he’d ever heard. You reluctantly pulled away, inhaling deeply as his eyes remained closed for a few seconds. “Don’t stop,” He mumbled, giving in to the surge of confidence as he pulled you back. “Not yet.” His calloused hand moved higher, the fabric of your skirt tickling his hand. 

He kissed you as if he needed you and you could feel the lace of your underwear dampening. He withdrew his lips and pecked you one more time. “That was better than I ever dreamed of.” And he had dreamed of this exact scenario multiple times, wondering how you would taste and sound as he touched you. 

You smirked, your eyes glittering with sinful mischief. “You fantasize about me, Munson?” Your finger dragged against the fabric of his ripped jeans. You stopped at his silver zipper, lingering as you watched him fall apart. 

He swallowed, glimpsing down as you drew teasing circles around his hardening crotch. “I-I, um—” 

You softly kissed his jaw, pressing your lips against the softness of his neck as he exhaled shakily. “Answer me, Eddie.” He hadn’t expected you to confess your feelings and kiss him and he definitely didn’t think he was going to lose his virginity to you. In your room. On your bed.

His eyes fluttered as you palmed him. “Yes, all the time.” His voice was hoarse, his knuckles blanching as he squeezed your bedsheets. And that wasn’t a lie. He thought of you in compromising situations almost every night, his hand wrapped around himself as he wondered about your moans, the way your face contorted as you came, and how your bare skin felt. 

Eddie could feel your lips spread with a satisfied smile. “Good boy,” The nickname wasn’t something he had ever thought about being called but he became painfully hard as you cooed at him. You backed away, retracting your hand from his crotch and he almost whined. “You can tell me about your fantasies and we make them happen,” You said as your wicked gaze narrowed. “Or we can stop now. No hard feelings.” 

He shook his head, his answer immediate. “I want to so bad, but I’ve never done anything like this before.” 

You smiled reassuringly, easing all his embarrassment. “And that is more than okay. That isn’t something to be embarrassed about. We can take it slow.” Your hand squeezed his cock and he moaned pathetically, completely at your mercy. “I’ll take care of you. Is that something you want, baby?” 

His hips bucked as your pressed down. He nodded frantically, a needy sound escaping his flushed lips. “More than anything.” 

You marked his neck, a soft pale lilac bruise forming. “Good boy,” Oh, God, he was going to cum if you called him that one more time. “Do you touch yourself thinking about me?” 

Eddie moaned softly, his eyes half-lidded in a lustful daze. “Every night.” There weren’t any coherent thoughts flooding his mind as you unbuckled his leather belt, tossing it aside before unzipping his jeans. “It’s harder for me when you wear skirts and dresses. You just look so good—fuck, just like that.” Your hand gripped his cock and he couldn’t control his movements as he jerked. 

You brought your palm to his mouth, cocking your head tauntingly. “Spit,” You demanded and he complied, releasing an embarrassing moan as you wrapped your wet hand around him, moving slowly. “You can touch me, baby.” 

If there were some Godly entity out there, he thanked them. He pulled your blouse upward and you raised your arms, giggling as his expression broke when he saw your bare chest. “Fuck, they’re so pretty.” He reached forward, squeezing your breasts with a boyish grin. He moved forward, licking your nipples and sucking them, his broken moans muffled against your wet skin. He plucked at the bottom of your skirt. “You wore this skirt one time, and God, it’s so short and tight and you bent over to tell Robin something and you were wearing some pink underwear. I jerked off to that for weeks, just thinking about bending you over.”

You fastened your pace, the wet and filthy sounds of you jerking him filled the quiet air. “I thought about you, too. I thought about sitting right here, kissing your neck and hearing you moan my name, wrapping your hand with these damn rings around my neck.”

He gripped your wrist. “If you keep talking and moving like that, I’m gonna cum.”

You smirked and retracted your hand and he did whine that time. “Not yet,” You gently pushed him onto his back, and his eyebrows pressed together with confusion. You lowered your head and filled your mouth with his cock and the sinful moan that escaped his lips was enough to fuel your late-night sessions for weeks. “You’re coming in my mouth.” His hands gripped your bedsheets and he was certain you were quite literally sucking the soul out of him. There was no way he was going to last for much longer as you fondled his balls, licking them softly before going back to shoving him entirely back inside your mouth. 

He forced his eyes to remain open, engraving the spectacle of you deep-throating his cock into his memory. “There’s no way you’re real. You’re way too good at this.” He could barely speak—could barely think or function. 

Your eyes watered as you kept your siren-like gaze on him. He tensed, his hand gripping your hair. “You’re gonna make me cum.” 

You pulled off him, spitting before jerking him off. “Where do you want it?” 

He couldn’t think, blinded by the overwhelming pleasure. “What do you mean?” 

“Where you want to cum, baby?” 

His eyes widened. “Oh, fuck, in your mouth, please.” In an instant, your lips were wrapped on him again and he was ruined. “Holy shit—” He came by himself before, he wasn’t lying when he told you he did every night, but even his best jerk off sessions were nothing compared to coming inside your mouth. There was nothing but blinding pleasure, enough to steal the words and breath from him. You kept going, determined to make him feel like he was floating, and hollowed your cheeks. His breathing hitched as you swallowed his load, desperate to taste him. 

His body jolted as you slowly removed your lips from him, pressing two small kisses against his exposed hip bones. “You did so good for me, Eddie.” He eventually gathered his composure and could finally breathe properly. You wiped the sweat beading around his hairline. “You looked so pretty coming in my mouth.” 

And there were those damn butterflies again. He didn’t know what to say. “Thank you so much.” His voice was hoarse, breathless. 

You raised an eyebrow as you unzipped your skirt. “We’re not done yet,” You said and his eyes widened. “I’m going to ruin you, Eddie Munson.” 

You were going to be the death of him, but Eddie Munson would’ve died a happy man.

[mca-attack21]

Riverdale: Deadly Definitions 6

Here we go again, I hope you guys are enjoying this series. Let me know if you want to be tagged. Feedback is always appreciated. @l4life  

Find the other parts here:    Part 1    Part 2    Part 3    Part 4   Part 5

The next morning Betty came over to apologize to Archie. The two of them walked to school together and were good again. Veronica had decided to call a truce with Cheryl and was also befriending Josie. Jughead had continued to piece clues together about what really happened the night of Jason’s murder.

That day during Lunch, you and Archie decided that you would work on music before school starting the next day. You were both excited and nervous. You 100% would do anything to help Archie no questions asked. But it was undeniably nerve racking for you to share something like this with anyone. 

After school, you went to Andrew’s construction and Mr. Andrews explained in better detail what he needed done. You spent the majority of the time just trying to organize everything. Occasionally you would answer the phone, it was all easy enough. Afterwards you had him drop you off at Pop’s where you ran into Jughead.

“Hey, whatcha up to?” you ask.

“Just trying to figure out what Jason was running from” 

“I mean if you were a child of the Blossoms, wouldn’t you want to run away too?” you joked.

“Yeah, but why now? What happened to make him choose now to get away?”

“Maybe he wasn’t running away as much as he was running to something” you ponder.

“Maybe. Oh well, I’m done for tonight.” he said as he closed his laptop, “How was your day?”

“Pretty good. How are you and Betty doing?” you wink.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, don’t think I haven’t noticed the  way you two look at each other. And how you too have started doing your own investigations.” 

“We are just friends.” he answered.

“For now” you replied.

“In that case, what’s going on between you and Archie?” he asked.

“Nothing, I’m just helping him with his music”

“Sure. But just remember what happened between him and his last music tutor” Jug laughed.

“That is so not funny” you chime in smacking his arm.

“I’m just saying.”

“I think he likes Veronica anyways” you reply bringing the conversation back down.

“I wouldn’t be so sure.”

When you snuck back into the school (which is where you have been staying since the Drive-In was shut down), it was around 3 am. You went straight for the music room. As earlier stated, this was both exciting and nerve-racking. You loved music, but you had never performed in front of any of your friends before. So, you sat at the Piano and warmed up with some showtunes. Eventually, you pulled out your songbook, it had been a while since you sat down and just wrote music. You were running through a song that you had written, when you were interrupted.

“Wow, how did I not know that you were this good?” Archie asked.

You were so confused. What was Archie doing here in the middle of the night? But then you looked down at your phone. It was 7:15. 

“I was just screwing around. Anyways, I’m going to grab us waters. I’ll be back in a minute.” you answer.

“Okay, I’ll get warmed up,” he smiled as he set his guitar down. 

You quickly made your way to the closet where you were staying. You fixed your hair, changed shirts, grabbed some gum, and the two waters before heading back to the music room. 

“Sorry that took so long, the vending machine didn’t want to take my money,” you said as you reentered the room, “so Archie, what exactly are you wanting to get out of these sessions?”

“I don’t exactly know. I’d like help taking my lyrics and turning them into actual songs. So I guess I just need feedback, and suggestions.” 

“That works for me, let’s hear what you’ve been working on lately.” you smiled.

So then Archie began to play. You just listened, he had an amazing voice and was already so good on guitar. As he finished his first song you were in awe. It was so refreshing to hear someone sing about something that mattered. 

“Well, what did you think?” he asked shyly as he set down the guitar.

“It was amazing Arch, it needs to be polished and there are a few lyrics that are off rhythm, but it is so good. You really have a talent for this”

“You really think so?” he asked

“Yes I do. Now do me a favor and sing it again but without the guitar” you say as you hope on the piano. You then proceeded to break down the entire song, and then you played/sang it back to Archie. This allowed him to hear first hand which parts sounded slightly awkward. You started writing down his lyrics and bouncing ideas off each other. Before you knew it, the ten minute warning bell for first period sounded. 

“Wow, I can’t believe it’s already time for class. This was amazing Y/n, thank you so much” he said as he stashed his guitar away. 

“It’s no problem Archie, I’m glad I can help”

And this was your life now. You spent your mornings with Archie working on his music. You went to school like a normal student. And then you walked to Andrews’ Construction. After organizing all of the paperwork you started working on a promotions campaign. You redesigned the business cards, created a free website and uploaded a portfolio of the various jobs they had completed. You answered the phones and helped Mr. Andrews create pitches that were customized to target the specific jobs. You also organized the work schedule and did anything else that Mr. Andrews needed help with. For him, you were nothing less than a godsend. You had already got them two bids and it had only been a week.  

You were at lunch with your friends when Cheryl approached you. “Here. My mother has decided that you are all invited to JayJay’s memorial. Even you losers.” she said towards you and Jughead. 

“I get that she is mourning her brother, but does she have to be such a bitch” Veronica said under her breath.

“Agreed” Betty chimed in.

“Well, I don’t know about you guys, but I’m going to have to buy something to wear to Thornhill.” you directed to the two of them, “you guys want to go shopping tomorrow?” 

“I can’t. My mother is still mad about the whole Archie thing” Betty answered.

“Veronica?”

“You know I’m always down for retail therapy.” she smiled.

So the next day you both went to the mall before you went to work. This was the first time that the two of you were hanging out alone.  

“I bet that you saw malls in New York that make this mall look like a dollar store,” you commented.

“That is very true” she laughed.

“So I’m guessing that it is safe to say that you miss it?” you ask as you look through the dresses.

“Parts of it. I miss being a family and I’m not gonna lie the luxury of it all was grand. But I don’t know the people here, while simple, are real. It wasn’t like that in New York” she reminisced.

“What do you think of this one?” you asked holding up a black t-shirt dress. 

“It’s okay, but why don’t you try this one on,” she replied, holding up a simple but beautiful black dress. You grabbed it and held it up in front of you. It was perfect. But then you ventured to the price tag.

“It’s great Veronica, but I can’t afford it.” you reply putting it back on the rack. 

“Nonsense, it’s my treat. I insist.” she said, “Now go try it on” 

As you had learned, you never argue with a Lodge. There is no point, you won’t win. “Are you sure?” you ask.

“Yes, it’s the least I can do after you have extended your friendship to me” she chimed, all but pushing you in the fitting room.

You tried on the dress and were in love. “What do you think?” you asked as you showed Veronica. 

“You look amazing. I have done it once again” she laughed.

Next, she forced you to find a pair of  heels. Her argument was that it would be a crime to wear such a nice dress with average shoes. On the way up to the cash register Veronica had grabbed some other small things. She placed all of it on the counter and pulled out a card.

“Seriously Veronica, you didn’t have to do that” you said as you got into the car.

“It’s fine Y/n, just consider it an early Birthday present.” 

“My birthday isn’t until next month” you laugh, “Seriously though, I owe you one. If there is ever anything you need let me know.”

“Okay, and now moving on. What is between you and Archie?” she asked.

“Nothing, we are just good friends who are working on music together.” you answer.

“Sure. The same way that Betty and Jughead are just friends.”

“I’m serious Veronica, and even if I did have feelings for him, I’m pretty sure he likes someone else.” you add.

“Really? Who?” she asked intrigued. 

“I’ll give you a hint. She is new in town.”

“No way. There is no way Archie Andrews has a thing for me.” she said in disbelief. 

“He hasn’t explicitly told me so, but still it’s kinda obvious.” you say as the car slows to a stop.

“Do you want me to drop off your bags somewhere?” she asked realizing that she still had no idea where you lived. 

“No, I’ll hold on to them. Thanks again Ronnie.”

That night you went to the school and showered. You tried on your dress again, this time with the shoes. You looked through the other bag, Veronica had also bought you a necklace and earrings along with simple make-up palettes and perfume. She was good, you hadn’t even seen her grab half of this stuff and you were right next to her.

The next day you accompanied Mr. Andrews and Archie to the Memorial Service. Archie had decided to give Mrs. Blossom Jason’s old jersey. She was almost in tears over it. Everyone sat down as it was ready to begin. Before Penelope could begin speaking, Cheryl burst in wearing the white outfit she had worn the last time she was Jason. She gave a speech about how she missed him and failed him and then was dragged off by her mother.

And from there things were only going to get worse.

[runningonmarvel]

be my valentine ch. 2

@you-get-to-exhale-now-cyrus second chapter of the Valentine’s Day exchange fic!!

A/N: takes place the two weeks before Valentine’s Day in their junior year. wonah. bandi. tyrus. a few curses. unedited but enjoy!!

Chapter 2: Hey, My Love

You've walked out a hundred times 

How was I supposed to know this time 

Jonah has been to seven concerts in high school, and the only one he really cared about was Harry Styles with Andi freshman year. Last year, during a period of time when he and Andi were actually getting along well, Andi had come to him begging him to accompany her to the King Princess concert. By the time the concert arrived, though, they were “taking a break” again, and Andi took Amber instead. 

Jonah had gotten attached, though, to one song from her: Talia. That was the song stuck in his head while he strummed the guitar on Tuesday afternoon in the Red Rooster. It reminded him of the disaster of his relationship with Andi, but it made him think, more than that, of the new feelings he had.

“Earth to Jonah?” He snapped his neck up, bent over the guitar, and adjusted his fingers in the frets. Bowie was staring across at him, suspicious of his lack of focus.

“Ah, sorry. I’ll try again,” Jonah says, trying to shake the prior thoughts out of his head. He aligns his fingers for the first chord and goes to play, but Bowie shakes his head.

“No, let’s finish for today. You’ve worked hard, and I figure you need a break.”

Jonah nods and puts the guitar up on the stand. A text from his mom tells him that she won’t be there for another half an hour, so Jonah goes to browse through the records. A early memory of a time with Andi flickers in his mind, but he shuts it out. Every place in Shadyside, every school hall and bike path and storefront, has some memory of Andi and him. It’s impossible.

As he drums his fingers over the stacks of records, Jonah allows the new feeling to wash over his mind. A crush, a crush, a crush, is the heartbeat in his head. He feels guilty, even though he and Andi have been permanently apart for four months. Is he allowed to like someone else? After a relationship that lasted nearly four years, on and off?

And what makes it worse is who the person is. Because in a cruel twist of fate, the universe blessed him with feelings for the one person in the world Andi might be truly hurt to see him with.

Freaking Walker Brodsky. 

Walker.

Walker!

The one Andi went on a couple dates with. The one Andi left so she could be completely with Jonah. The one Jonah hung out sporadically over the years until Andi and Buffy basically wrote him out of their friend group. The one Jonah in the past couple months has been hanging out with and texting. The one he now has an unfortunate, overwhelming, obvious crush on. 

Jonah picks up a record and squints at it: a love song. Great. 

“Hey Jonah, do you need a ride home?” Bowie steps into his line of vision and smiles at him. 

“No, thank you my mom’s coming, I’m just going to look at the records for a bit. Maybe shop.”

Bowie nods and returns to the register where he empties the tip jar slowly. It occurs to Jonah suddenly that Bowie has never once acted strange since Andi and Jonah’s final breakup. He’s been the same eclectic, guitar-teaching Bowie the whole time, which is odd. Jonah knows the Macks to be a family where emotions run high.

He walks to the pick shelf, where several higher-end designs stick out to him. His mom would probably say it’s stupid to spend money on a better-looking plastic triangle; but then again, his mom would say a lot of things are stupid. Like Jonah being upset over Andi. Like Jonah having a crush on a boy. 

He glances down at his phone: no new messages from his mom. So he picks out the best-looking pick from the shelf—nine dollars for the unique design—and takes it to the register. Bowie looks up as he places a crumpled twenty on the counter and pushes both items towards him.

“Splurging for a new pick?” Bowie asks, ringing it up.

“Seems worth it.” Bowie wraps the pick and hands him his change, then considers him for a moment.

“Jonah, would you… would you ever be interested in working here?”

Silence engulfs the store for a moment as Jonah processes that. 

“Working here? As in… ringing up customers, organizing records, polishing guitars?” Already, Jonah has an answer in his head: yes. He needs a job if he’s ever going to be able to get out from under his mom’s harsh influence. And he loves the guitar shop because it makes him feel safer than most other places. Andi’s apartment and room used to be his safe space, when they were on good terms. But not anymore.

“Yes, exactly. I mean, you’re almost 17, right. A job would be nice, and we have lots of room for a spot.” Bowie leans back against the wall. “Plus you’d get to clean and fix guitars all day while listening to music. Good music.”

“Thank you! I—I’ll ask my mom about it tonight, and I’ll get back to you tomorrow.” Jonah doesn’t know how he’ll broach the subject with his mother, not without her yelling at him about irresponsibility and disappointment. He takes the packaged pick and slips it in his pocket with the change. A job would be so nice, and it would mean he could escape the house more often. Stay out late after work and hang out with Walker. Avoid his mom.

Jonah hates that that’s the thought in his head, but it is. 

He sits back down on the lesson couch and is about to pick up a music magazine when Bowie sits down across from him. “Jonah, I’ve been meaning to ask. How are things going with you and Andi?”

Jonah stares. He stares, and then he swallows down an outburst. “Bowie, we—we broke up four months ago.” Jonah doesn’t know if Andi didn’t tell Bowie or if Bowie simply forgot, but the shock on his face suggests the former.

“You broke up?” “Yes, sir. We were off and on for a long time and finally she—we both decided it was time to put a final end to it. We’ve always been better off as friends but afraid to acknowledge it,” Jonah says carefully. He fiddles with the pick in his pocket, twisting it over and back four times.

“Jonah, I had no idea,” Bowie says. “Andi, she—“ he cuts off, stands up, and walks to the register. Jonah can see his mind processing as he blinks several times with his whole face and messes with the cash register drawer. 

“Didn’t tell you?” Jonah asks softly, then regrets it. No response from Bowie, who looks like a lost puppy. Jonah starts to feel bad that he’s been left out from this crucial piece of Andi’s life, because Bex surely knows about it. That’s why Jonah has been avoiding Cloud 10 for months: fear of Bex and Cece.

It occurs to Jonah now that Bowie may be angry with him. May not want to give lessons to his daughter’s very permanent ex. May not want to give him a job. That last one is the killer; if Andi loses him this job then her curse on his life in Shadyside will be complete.

“Why did you break up, exactly?” Bowie asks, once he’s regained a bit of composure. Jonah nods, and then tries to explain.

“Andi and I have always been close friends, and while we were dating bad things usually happened because of our feelings for each other. We created drama or hurt ourselves somehow. It wasn’t meant to be, or at least it wasn’t meant to be romantic. We just didn’t work out.” Jonah finishes, feeling like he’s explained it well. He doesn’t add in the part about Andi being distant the last six months of their relationship, and he definitely leaves out the part about Jonah realizing his own bisexuality and dual attraction to boys as he was dating Andi.

Instead of responding, Bowie just nods. And he keeps nodding, obviously upset, until Jonah’s mom arrives in her truck and honks the horn several time. He waves goodbye, but gets nothing in return from the Bowie lost in his thoughts. Before Jonah leaves, though, he walks through the record section one more time and returns back to the section where he found the love song earlier. He searches through the old love songs until he finds Be My Baby by the Ronettes. Dragging his fingers over the rough record slip, Jonah thinks about the various songs he’s written about Andi over the years. The first one was here, on the stage over to the right, back in simpler days.

Jonah slides the record back into the stacks and walks towards the door. It’s time to let past things end; he can’t keep being haunted by the memory of Andi. His feelings have already moved on, leaving only guilt and the finality of breakup behind. How is he supposed to fall for someone else when this entire town used to belong to him and Andi? Still, as he exits the Red Rooster, an idea starts to form in his head. 

An idea that would show his crush and himself that he was over Andi. An idea that would say, with no regrets: I like you, Walker Brodsky. No one else.

That you wouldn't call

That you wouldn't come home

————

On Wednesday morning, Cyrus is tired and already over the week. He was up late last night talking to TJ, then realized he’d forgotten to do his Bio homework. So after scrawling down some answers about mitosis and phases, Cyrus had fallen into a fitful sleep which hadn’t lasted over six hours.

Andi and Buffy are nowhere to be found before homeroom, so Cyrus goes to his locker alone. TJ has math tutoring on Wednesday mornings, so he won’t miss basketball practice in the afternoons, and he usually arrives just in time for homeroom. Meaning Cyrus is alone. He could look for Jonah, but Jonah has been disappearing in the mornings as of late. 

When he arrives at his locker, though, Cyrus stops and blinks twice. Tied between the holes in the blue metal and dangling against the locker is a pair of bright green roller skates.

Roller skates?

Cyrus looks around, thinking maybe someone conveniently dropped their roller derby or Wednesday night skate shoes on his locker. But it’s early, and the hallways are mostly empty. So Cyrus approaches the shoes carefully, lifting one up to inspect it.

Not only are they bright green, his favorite color, but there are tiny dinosaur stickers stuck all across the plastic shoe. He gives the wheels a loose spin, determining that they’re aesthetically pleasing but not necessarily the most supportive nor safe pair of skates. Still, Cyrus stares down at them. They’re clearly for him, but who would leave him roller skates? Andi and Buffy?

“Hello?” Cyrus calls down the hall, just in case anyone left them and tried to run away. Iris looks up and waves at him from where she was gazing at her phone intensely. He nods at her, distracted; it couldn’t have been Iris. They barely speak except in history class, and somehow Iris has become better friends with Andi than Cyrus.

When no one else responds, Cyrus looks back down at the roller skates. Several memories flash in his mind, of skating with the Good Hair Crew when they were younger, of learning to actually skate with TJ, of Andi’s roller-skating birthday a few years ago. Cyrus knows how to skate—right? And if the skates are here, then he should probably wear them—right? Feeling slightly like an idiot, Cyrus unties the skates from his locker and slides his feet into the left, and then the right. He holds onto the locker as he tries not to slip. The hallway is completely empty now; Iris has run off somewhere. So Cyrus gets his balance while gripping the locker, inhales slowly, and remembers when TJ taught him to skate. 

Distribute your weight evenly over the sole so you won’t fall over immediately. Use the brake if you need it, but you need it way less than you think you do. Skate in strides, like walking. Focus, and keep breathing. Your instincts will kick in.

Cyrus focuses, and he steps away from the locker. Stride left, stride right. And then the instincts take over, just like TJ told him they would. Cyrus is flying over the linoleum tiles, and he catches his breath. He can do this. He can do this. He can—

As the wheel catches on a stray book left in the hallway, another memory comes back to Cyrus: Jonah Beck trying to teach him to skateboard.

Cyrus feels his legs flailing beneath him as the wheels slide backwards. His knees hit the floor in a second. The ground has nearly reached his face when he feels an arm around his stomach stop the fall, pull him backwards, and leave him standing straight up.

“Cyrus?” He relaxes, realizing who it is.

“TJ!” Cyrus tries to spin in a circle, but he nearly slips again. TJ puts one steady arm around his waist and the other on his arm so he won’t fall. “Thanks for catching me,” Cyrus says sheepishly.

“I’m always there to catch you, Cy—but what’s with the roller skates? Joining roller derby?” TJ looks genuinely confused, his eyebrows drawn together in concern and his lips slightly pursed.

“Um. I don’t know who left them, but they were there. So yeah, I decided to try them out,” Cyrus says, which sounds like a bad explanation but is the truth.

“Okay, well, are you going to skate to homeroom now?” TJ asks, adjusting his math books under his arm.

“Oh, absolutely not,” Cyrus says. Over TJ’s shoulder he sees Buffy walking down the hallway, without Andi or Jonah. He waves, and she waves back, eyebrows raised at the skates. He leans forward, and feels his knees protest. “Nope, that’s not gonna work. I think I’ve broken my knees.”

Concerned, TJ glances at Cyrus’s legs. “Aw, Cy, you’ve got bruises all over. You’ve got to go the nurse.”

“I’ll take him!” Buffy chirps, reaching out to take Cyrus’s hand.

TJ stops her for a moment, pulls Cyrus back into a kiss, and then pushes him into Buffy’s arms. “Take good care of him, Driscoll.”

Buffy rolls her eyes. “I always do.” She takes Cyrus by the arm, positions him in front of her, and holds tight to his arms. “Let’s go, Goodman.”

Cyrus giggles, then shuts his mouth. “Did you leave these? Did Andi?”

Buffy shakes her head, and Cyrus considers that. She could be pretending, but both she and TJ had seemed genuinely shocked by the appearance of electric green roller skates on his feet. Strange.

Buffy manages to push him all the way to the nurse, then runs off to homeroom once he’s situated soundly in a waiting chair. After unlacing the skates and tying together the laces, Cyrus places them in his lap and settles back into the chair. His knees are bruised and aching as he waits, but he’s still warm inside from TJ’s kiss.

Suddenly, Cyrus hears someone slide into the seat next to him. He looks up to see Walker, who he hasn’t seen in months.

“Cyrus, hey,” Walker says. He rubs the back of his neck, and his eyes look tired. Cyrus waits, but Walker remains on the edge of his seat, meaning he’s here with a purpose. “Listen, I have a strange question.”

“Okay…” Cyrus says, running one hand over the plastic surface of the skates. “First—how are you? We haven’t talked in a while.” Walker nods. “Busy. I’ve got a big studio project due next Friday, and I want it to be part of my portfolio. How’s everyone?”

Swallowing Cyrus tugs on the laces of the skates. He knows that when Buffy ended things with Walker, he basically lost his main friend group. Walker and Amber seem to hang out a lot, but Amber almost never mentions him. There’s Natalie and Archie in Walker’s studio class, who Cyrus thinks he’s friends with. But he doesn’t know how Walker’s doing, not really.

“They’re fine. The usual.” “Yeah. Um, the question is—it’s—“ Walker stops himself, and Cyrus can hear the nervous beat of his foot against the tile. “Do you know if Jonah likes boys?”

Cyrus closes a hand around the knot on the laces. He’s suddenly aware of the heartbeat in his chest—did Walker just come out to him? No. But still—

“I’m not sure. He’s never said he has, you know—“ “Yeah, okay,” Walker says, and Cyrus hears the hitch in his breath as he gets to his feet.

“Walker, wait. He hasn’t said it, but neither had TJ the whole time I knew him. I thought he was the most heterosexual boy on the planet until he randomly came out to me. The point is—we don’t know,” Cyrus says, almost all in one breath.

Walker is silent.

“And,” Cyrus says, “Jonah is one of the most accepting people I know. He’ll be completely chill about it, I promise.”

“Okay.” Walker looks worried, and Cyrus remembers a similar feeling a year and a half ago when he was worrying if TJ would stop being friends with him if Cyrus admitted his crush. The anxiety had been real and consuming; every time Cyrus was with TJ, there was a voice in his head screaming: YOU HAVE A CRUSH YOU HAVE A CRUSH YOU HAVE A CRUSH. Cyrus understands.

“I didn’t know you and Jonah were friends,” Cyrus says carefully. Walker nods slowly.

“We have been for a couple months. We’ve known each other since… you know.”

Since Andi introduced us and then chose Jonah over me. That would be the implied instance.

It occurs to Cyrus that Walker liking Jonah of all people is quite ironic. But he doesn’t say that; he would be a hypocrite, anyway. He was the one dating for TJ Kippen, the boy his best friend used to hate.

“Listen, Walker. I think you should ask him to the dance. See how it goes. Jonah’s kind, and he’d be lucky to have you.”

Walker inhales sharply, and then he nods. Good luck, Cyrus thinks, but he doesn’t say it. Walker Brodsky has always been an enigma, and feelings for Jonah Beck are just another thing to add to the pile. Cyrus has had his suspicions about Jonah possibly liking not only girls, and now, it seems, they’ll all find out.

As Walker stands and walks away, Cyrus thanks his lucky stars that his crush on Jonah Beck went away—it’s kind of boring liking the boy everyone else does, isn’t it?

He gives the green roller skates one last once-over before rising to his battered knees and stumbling into the nurse’s office.

————

A cold wind knocks at Buffy’s window, and she glances out into the darkness. Math homework waits unfinished on her desk, but Buffy is sitting on her bed, legs swinging and mind racing. She plays back a series of moments in her head: the encounter with the Valentine’s Day banner, Cyrus’s text asking for help with TJ, Andi’s purposeful avoidance of her in the mornings and after school.

The wind blows harder, and Buffy grits her teeth. A note from her mom flutters where it is pinned to the bulletin board: a scrawl she left on top of a soup can for Buffy to find a few days after she left. The note reads: You are strong because you are kind, and you are kind because you are strong. I love you. Mom. 

She left a week ago for Japan, and Buffy is alone again. Her father is at work, as usual. Buffy doesn’t know if Andi will answer her calls, and if she does, Buffy doesn’t know how she would act—the feigned normalcy from the past year or the new uncomfortableness? She can count on Cyrus, sure, except that he’s always busy with TJ. 

So instead of reaching out to anyone, Buffy groans and sort of rolls onto the floor. After stretching out her legs sore from track, she flattens herself on her stomach to look under the bed. A minute of digging her hand around yields the scrap of fabric she’s looking for: a slightly battered pride flag, colored with the blue, purple, and pink of bisexuality.

Buffy glares at it.

This is what’s messing up her life right now. Her stupid feelings. And she can’t even show it in public, or rant to her mom about them, or talk to other LGBT people about confusing signals from possibly straight people. Buffy has told both Andi and Cyrus—Cyrus ordered her the flag. But no one else, so the symbol of her identity just sits untouched beneath her bed. 

She runs a hand over the different stripes. When Buffy was ten years old, she wasn’t interested in anyone, girl or boy. Ten year-old Buffy would have thought the flag was made up of lots of pretty colors. When she turned thirteen, she was conscious that who she liked made a difference in who she was, at least for the outside world.

And then she had a tiny crush on Walker, until he tried to ask her to formal with a cult. So Buffy was convinced she was straight even at the beginning of her relationship with Marty, because it was crystal clear in her mind: she liked a boy. Cyrus liked a boy, so he was gay. She liked a boy, so she was straight.

Until the lines weren’t so clear cut anymore. 

Like the colors of the flag, blurring into each other so her contact-less self wouldn’t be able to tell the difference between them. Buffy knew what it was like to like a boy. What she didn’t know—yet—was what it was like to like a girl. Until.

When Buffy talks about Marty now, she thinks of him in flashes. First: tentative friends, running partners again, cross country teammates as freshman year dawned. Next was that one time they held hands in the movies and never mentioned it again. Then came the pining and the realization she liked him. She liked him. Next was stress and worry and texting all night until one day they were sitting on the ground in Buffy’s room, right where she’s sitting now, and Marty leaned all the way in to kiss her. Then was dating bliss, then more worry, then breakdown. Buffy tried not to think about those phases, about which parts were her fault and which were out of her control.

Buffy also tries not to think about what happened two months after she hung up on Marty and ran to his house, crying, because they had to break up. Marty had disappeared from her life once again; only the ghost memory of him remained, haunting her runs. Marty from the party: her first kiss, her first love, her first true breakup: almost every first.

Almost.

What he could never be, though, was the first girl. 

The realization developed starting midway through freshman year, and it just kept coming back to her. Girls. Girls. Girls. It was like running into a wall over and over again, and that wall was the poster of Fifth Harmony pinned across from her bed. That wall was Hayley Kiyoko’s music being constantly stuck in her head. That wall was the stick in her throat when playing ‘Never Have I Ever’ and Cyrus declared ‘Never have I ever been straight.’

Once she realized it fully, and she could say the word with reasonable calm, it was easy to make the same choice Cyrus had. Actually, it was the opposite of easy. But it felt natural, when she said the two words together. She even told Marty, who told her confidentially he was too, and they bonded over it. The flag came along soon after as a gift from Cyrus. Her spirit was all there: she had the right realization, coming out journey, and self-acceptance.

But sophomore year—that was something Buffy could consider later. She flips the flag over between her hands until she feels centered, and then she slides it beneath her bed again. From across the room, her phone dings with a new message, which she steps to her feet to answer.

GHC fools

kingofthebabytaters: yo gays

kingofthebabytaters: guys*

Buffy makes a note to throw something at him at some point.

kingofthebabytaters: do you think the plan for tj is good??

kingofthebabytaters: I feel like it’s too extra but also not extra enough you know

andicrack: okay back up I thought we were set on signs

kingofthebabytaters: we aRe! but like is that special? andicrack: you made homemade signs that a bunch of ppl are gonna hold up. uh, yeah it is cy

notavampireslayer: yo goodman don’t doubt your excellent plan

kingofthebabytaters: excellent plans don’t always work out

andicrack: name one time—oH are we talking about 8th grade

notavampireslayer: this better not be about that freaking CULT

kingofthebabytaters: the point is I really want TJ to love it

andicrack: maybe perhaps I was buffy

andicrack: HE WILL

andicrack: stop stressing cy guy

kingofthebabytaters: you sound like jonah

andicrack: ew

notavampireslayer: your Valentine’s Day will be great Cyrus I assure you

Buffy puts her phone down for a second to consider this. How is Cyrus, of all people, stressed out about Valentine’s Day? He has a boyfriend, and not a recent one either. He basically has a guaranteed good day. The last time Buffy celebrated Valentine’s Day for real was with Marty, and that was on the back half of their relationship. Tension was building. What she wouldn’t give for one good Valentine’s Day, when the person she likes likes her back completely.

She’s not supposed to be jealous of Cyrus having a relationship, but she might be, which sounds needy but might be the truth. Does Andi have a valentine? She thinks of Amber, feeling a pang of—something—and turns her phone over in her hand. She’s doing the Andi thing where she hides her feelings from herself if she doesn’t like that she’s feeling them. She learned it from the best, like maybe if she doesn’t acknowledge them, they’ll go away. Buffy taps the back of her phone with her hand; she knows her feelings won’t go away.

Rolling over on her bed, Buffy opens her phone to Netflix. Since it’s the week before Valentine’s Day, sad hours, and even more specifically sad gay hours, Buffy starts to turn on Love, Simon. Before she can, though, the ringtone of her phone interrupts the logos. It’s not a text but a call from a FaceTime number. Buffy swallows as she stares at the screen, trying to decide if she wants to pick up.

Who is she trying to trick? The phone is in her hand and the accept button pressed within two seconds. 

“Hey, Buffy,” Andi says from the screen. She pushes a piece of bangs back from her eyes and smiles up at Buffy.

“What’s up?” “Just wanted to talk. See how you are,” Andi says, which sounds like a weak reasons anyways but even weaker coming from Andi, who never seems sure of herself anymore.

“I’m good…” Buffy says, then gets mad at herself for being boring. “I’ve just been thinking about freshman and sophomore years, you know. Reminiscing.” Andi nods along, and the two discuss school, friends, food, preferences, and the origins of Valentine’s Day (which happens to be the execution of two men during the Roman Empire). Buffy ends up modeling her two different options for a dragon costume (don’t ask), and Andi brings the phone downstairs so Buffy can say hello to Bex and Bowie. 

An hour and a half later,  Buffy can feel her eyelids drifting closed but doesn’t want to stop talking. It’s been a good several months since they have really talked like this—and it’s been a year since they’ve talked for so long with a comfortable ease. Everything dates back to one year ago, to what Buffy regrets every day and doesn’t regret at all. Her mother would tell her to ignore the regrets and just live, which is exactly what she’s trying to do. But Andi and her complicated feelings always make things hard, just like they did with Jonah. Buffy knows, somewhere, that the complicated feelings aren’t just from Andi; they’re from her too. But it’s easier to blame the problem that’s on the surface rather than the problem deep inside of her.

Because the problem deep inside is related to a word Buffy has only heard therapists say with meaning: commitment. And the second issue has to do with the flag underneath her bed.

But Buffy has her mom and Cyrus and yes, Andi, to worry about, so she doesn’t think about these things.

“So Buffy,” Andi says, slicing through her thoughts. “Is Marty dating someone right now?” “He’s dating Eleanor,” Buffy says as quickly as possible, then stops. Andi’s jealousy of Marty is an idea she can get behind, if it gives her any leverage.

“Yeah? What happened to Ross?”

Buffy laughs, only because Marty’s first boyfriend was a crackhead who he loved too much. Of course Ross broke Marty’s heart. “Ross is long gone.”

Andi nods, slowly. Then she says what Buffy thinks she’s wanted to say all this time: “I think Jonah likes someone else.” I think you like someone else, Buffy thinks, but she shuts herself up. “Who? Amber?”

Andi laughs. “Hopefully not, since she’s definitely a lesbian.”

“Jonah has a history of bad crushes.” Ouch.

“Jonah can like whoever he wants, I don’t care. I hope he has a good Valentine’s Day. WIthout me.” Andi looks very pleased with herself, which she honestly should be. On-again-off again Jonah and Andi had lasted multiple years and in a year alone had undergone seven separate disasters (Buffy counted). And yet, here she is, four months later, still a little caught up on him.

Jealousy stings.

“Good to know you’re being civil about it, Andi,” Buffy replies, not really paying attention. 

“Oh, I am. Libby and I still have plans to form a club: the ex-Jonahs.” “Form that club and I may have to block your number and burn my phone for good measure.” Andi giggles.

“Wow, we’re really bad with boys, huh?” Andi asks, tilting her head to the side.

“Girls too,” Buffy agrees, and Andi smiles a tiny smile. Buffy thinks of the flag and counts to three the different shades until she’s calm again. But when Andi smiles, with that gorgeous smile and brilliant eyes—

Time to shut this down before it got away from her.

“Look at us,” Andi says, her chinks blushing pink. “Single on Valentine’s Day. Maybe we should go to the dance together. After all, Cyrus abandoned us by getting a boyfriend. We’re the same as we’ve always been.” 

As Buffy nods along to agree that yes, they should go to the dance together, yes, it would be extremely fun, and yes, Cyrus is now an official traitor to the Good Hair Crew and they need to hold auditions for a replacement immediately, she turns over that statement in her head like she had the note from her mom and the flag. 

Somewhere around 12:42 am, Andi whispers a goodbye from the relative darkness of her room. Buffy mumbles one back, blinking sleepy tears from her eyes and waving with a slightly glowing hand. Andi waves back, and neither of them hang up until Buffy feels her eyes actually drift shut and finally does. She falls asleep in the next minute with Andi stuck in her mind, playing on repeat next to the words Valentine’s Day and dance.

On the other end, Andi stays awake until an even more ungodly hour, mostly staring at her window and wondering. Wondering how she can have messed up something so badly yet be lucky enough not to have ruined everything. Wondering if Jonah will ever return her third favorite sweatshirt. Wondering if Buffy is asleep now or laying awake thinking. Wondering whether every decision she makes is a massive mistake or a useless choice. Wondering how she’s going to get through this.

We’re the same as we’ve always been.

But they’re not. The unspoken between them is a living, breathing thing: one year old. Andi remembers the day; how could she not? Buffy may think Andi has forgotten it; she hasn’t. The reason sticks in her head every day: the reason for the tension, the reason for the discomfort, the reason for a year of needless separation.

It’s just a reason Andi can never even begin to acknowledge.

And so she doesn’t.

[ridiasfangirlings]

Yeah but... IDOL K Fushimi. Dealing with his dad who's still very much NIKI but he was a really big name in the idol world like 15 years back? And people have a habit of comparing him with that dazzling star of old?

It’s hard to imagine Idol!Niki, he’s too punchable to be an idol XD Maybe Niki and Kisa were like both big stars who married so Fushimi has even more to live up to, like Niki was this super popular rock idol (who did shit like smashing guitars on stage just because and then never offered to pay for them afterward) while Kisa was an elegant idol who both sang and played piano and who in her youth was highly sought after. Her marriage to Niki was actually to avoid a scandal, like there were all these rumors that she and Niki were dating and Kisa had to be careful around him because she was concerned about preserving her ‘brand’ as a pure and unattainable idol. Except then Niki gets her pregnant and she had no choice but to marry him in order to make what would have been a scandal into a huge stardom opportunity instead, rather than it being popular male idol Niki knocks up up and coming idol Kisa instead it was two popular stars getting married in a big fancy star-studded wedding. Due to that Fushimi’s been expected to grow up to join show business as well, like I could totally see Kisa trying to groom him into a star from the beginning because he has more value to her as a prop to increase her own stardom than as a son. By the time Fushimi’s a couple years old Kisa’s already quit the idol business and become a popular manager instead, making all her money signing and managing new talent and she pretty much leaves her kid to Niki and to a variety of tutors and singing coaches.

Then say Niki dies when Fushimi’s in middle school and it’s this huge thing on the news, even though by that time he wasn’t singing anymore and was basically just drinking and partying his way through his money. Fushimi of course was happy that Niki was finally gone and by this time maybe Kisa had given up on him too which is why he’s allowed to live a normal school life (until Yata drags him into being an idol anyway). By the time Fushimi becomes an idol in his own right he figures it’s been long enough that no one even remembers his dad anyway but of course as he gets more popular it starts to come up in interviews and such. Like maybe initially when he and Yata start out as a duo it seems like no one’s realized but by the time they join Homra’s label and debut as solo artists there are a few gossip sites that report it as if it’s something Fushimi tried to hide, that he’s the son of the once famous idol Niki. By the time he joins Scepter 4 the comparisons probably get even stronger, like imagine how the idol world starts buzzing when Fushimi changes his hairstyle to match Niki’s and he probably starts getting all these questions in interviews and such if he did it because he’s trying to pay tribute to his father.

Of course it’s not like Fushimi can say how awful his dad was, because he sure as hell isn’t blasting his trauma to the world (and even if he wanted to it would only make things worse, Niki’s fans would rally around the memory of their idol and slander him as a liar and he’d have to deal with Kisa and her own formidable record label probably trying to silence him too and it just isn’t worth it). I can see where the specter of Niki would continue to hang over him though, like he’s the only one who knows what Niki was really like and meanwhile he also has to live in the shadow of the person that he hates. I could see him trying even harder in that respect too, like he hates all this smiling and having to do interviews and autograph signings and ew handshake events but he’s super professional and does them because he’s determined to outshine Niki (and of course he still probably has this huge complex about it too, that he looks like Niki but he doesn’t have Niki’s charisma or genius and any time he fails it’s just a sign that he won’t ever be able to step out of that man’s shadow).

[wellimhavinga3outof10day]

The Femme Fatale

Description: When Betty realizes she has feelings for Veronica, their upcoming spa weekend becomes a source of anxiety.

Read on AO3

Betty smiled as she saw Veronica headed her way. She closed her locker and waited. Veronica smiled back and Betty felt her heart flip-flop, the way it used to for Archie, the way she wouldn’t quite admit meant something more than friendship. She bit her lip and looked down at Veronica’s shoes – black kitten heels that definitely wouldn’t fly for their Chem lab.

           “Hey, Bets,” Veronica said.

           Betty raised her eyes to meet the other girl’s. “Hey. Good morning?”

           “So far, so good.” Veronica adjusted the coat slung over her arm. “I had fun last night. Even if I got about three hours of sleep after that movie. Remind me again why I let you convince me horror movies are funny?”

           Betty laughed. “Some horror movies are funny. I admit that one was an exception.”

           When Veronica laughed too, Betty felt her cheeks flush under the other girl’s attention. Veronica reached out and touched her arm, her thumb rubbing circles on the inside of Betty’s elbow. “Well, you’ll have to make it up to me. Flowers, maybe? Yellow’s for friendship.”

           Betty wondered what the colour for I have a massive fucking crush on you was. Not that she did. Veronica just... exuded something special that Betty was drawn too. And it was probably nothing. It would go away in a few weeks when she got used to Veronica’s presence, to her smile, to the way she just reached out and touched Betty and immediately made her feel calmer. Yeah. It was a passing phase. A normal reaction to getting used to a new person in your life.

           Veronica was talking – something about massages and a spa just out of town – and Betty nodded along. She didn’t notice that Jughead had stopped beside them until Veronica’s eyes glanced to him. Betty quickly did a double take and tried to smile at him as brightly as she’d smiled at Veronica.

           “Tell me you have the math homework,” Jughead said.

           Betty blinked. “Why?”

           “Because I probably didn’t do it and I’m definitely at risk of failing if I don’t hand in yet another assignment.”

           “You know I don’t like cheating.”

           Jughead saluted. “Sir, yes, sir. But I really don’t have time for you to tutor me and, anyways, I’m not sure you’re actually better at math than I am. You’re just a lot less lazy. So help a guy out? I don’t want to sit through that drivel for another year.”

           Betty stared at him blankly.

           Then Veronica took her hand in both of hers and held it up to her chin. Betty lost her breath momentarily, her eyes flicking to Veronica’s puppy dog eyes. “Please, Bets?” Veronica said. “If only so he leaves us alone.”

           Jughead winked. “Love you too, Ronnie. Don’t forget, Archie will believe me if I say you have crabs.”

           To stop Veronica from murdering Jughead, Betty said, “Okay, fine,” and started to dig in her bag for the math homework. She handed the stapled pages to Jughead. “I need those back at lunch.”

           Jughead saluted again and walked away.

           Betty watched Veronica as she watched him walk away. When she turned back, Betty made a show of looking like she’d been watching Jughead too. Veronica rolled her eyes. “He’s a weird guy, isn’t he?”

           “You’ll get used to him.”

           “I don’t think he likes me very much.”

           Betty shrugged. “Jughead doesn’t really like anyone. Except Archie. And even that’s been off and on for years.”

           “Likes him, likes him?”

           Betty laughed, shook her head. “No. Jughead doesn’t like like anyone. At all. Not even Archie.”

           Veronica shrugged, then grabbed Betty’s hand again. Betty felt a thrill shoot through her at the sudden contact, at the smile on Veronica’s face. “What?” Betty said.

           “It’s a long weekend,” she said. “Tell me you’ll come up to the city with me. We can find a nice spa and spend the weekend naked and pampering ourselves.”

           Betty’s brain short-circuited at the word naked but she managed a nod and a smile. “Sounds great.”

           The bell rang, giving Betty sudden relief from Veronica’s touch and her smile. Veronica backed away with a frown and a childlike wave. Betty waved back, watching until the other girl turned, and then headed the other way, forcing herself to take deep breaths.

           She was lost deep in her thoughts by the time someone bumped into her.

           “Jughead?” Betty frowned and looked around the hallway like maybe he was a hallucination. But, sure enough, he was walking right beside her. “I thought you were going the other way.”

           “I was,” he said. “I came back as per my duty as your friendly neighbourhood asexual to tell you that that wasn’t straight and neither are you. Thank you for your time.”

           Before Betty could open her mouth to respond, Jughead had turned and disappeared into the hallway crowd. She stopped cold, waiting for her brain to catch up to what the hell had just happened. Her mouth open, her eyes over her shoulder, she didn’t move until Kevin laid a hand on her shoulder. She flinched.

           “You all right?” he asked.

           Betty nodded. “Of course. We should get going.”

           Kevin smiled and wrapped his arm around her shoulder. He started to talk about something but Betty couldn’t focus on it. She had a gnawing feeling in the pit of her stomach. Ignoring her own feelings was something she could do. Fighting with herself was easy; she did it every day of her life. But convincing Jughead of something he didn’t believe, that was near impossible.

  At lunch, Betty skirted around her usual table in favour of finding Jughead in the back corner, alone and bent over his laptop. She slammed down her tray across from him and he didn’t even look up.

           “Jughead,” she said in her most serious voice.

           “What’s up, blondie?”

           “You can’t just go around saying things like that to people and then disappearing.” Betty sat down on the bench and fixed her best glare on Jughead’s bent head. “It’s like dropping a bomb and then refusing to accept responsibility for the consequences.”

           “Please. I didn’t tell you anything you didn’t already know.”

           “Yes, you did! Or didn’t.” Betty pressed her lips together and curled her hands into fists. She felt her nails bite into her skin. Shaking her head, she steadied herself with a breath. “What you said wasn’t true.”

           For the first time, Jughead looked up, every inch of his expression doubtful. “While denial is an interesting plot device and an annoying one, too, it doesn’t usually work that well in real life.”

           Betty shrugged. “I don’t have to listen to you. I don’t even know why I would listen to you. It’s not like you know anything about this sort of stuff.”

           “True, but you’ve got to realize that if even I can tell two people have sexual tension, you’re in too deep.”

           Betty opened her mouth to bite back a response, but closed it quickly. She had no good retort to that. As stupid as it might sound, Jughead actually had a point. She sighed. “Fine. Let’s say you’re right. Not, of course, actually admitting that you’re right, but if you were right, then what should I do?”

           Jughead snorted and shook his head. He went back to looking at his laptop. “Sorry, Bets. That is not my department. Go talk to Kevin.”

           Betty slammed the laptop closed and Jughead pulled his fingers out just in time. Keeping her hand on top of the laptop, Betty said, “Listen to me very closely. You got me into this mess, so you’re gonna get me out of it.”

           “Technically Veronica got you into it,” he said. “I accept absolutely no responsibility for other people’s hormones.”

           “Please, Jughead?” Betty didn’t quite know what had caused the break in her voice but it did make Jughead’s expression soften ever so slightly. “I can’t tell Kevin because he’ll just tell the next five people he talks to. And Archie won’t get it and it’s not like I can just tell Veronica—”

           “I’ve never gotten that, actually. Explain. Why when you have a crush on someone can you not just tell them and get it over with?”

           Betty stared at him for a second and then laughed. She covered her face with her hands. After a long moment, she shook her head and looked back at him. “You’re going to be no help at all, are you?”

           “Sorry.”

           Betty nodded and slid off of the bench. “You know you can sit with us, right? Archie’s not mad at you anymore.”

           “Honestly? Archie mooning over Veronica. You mooning over both of them. Kevin talking about Moose?” Jughead shook his head. “I’d much rather be alone with my laptop.”

           “Right. Thanks for talking to me.”

           “Happy to be of no help at any time.”

           Betty laughed and turned away as he reopened his laptop. She threaded back through the tables to find her friends and plopped down beside Kevin. He smiled, she smiled back, he stole a fry. Betty stared at Veronica who stared at Archie who stared down at his guitar. It figured, really. Whether Betty wanted the boy next door or the femme fatale, she ended up the unwanted goody-two-shoes.

  For the rest of the week, Betty suffered more than she had in her whole life. Knowing that she had feelings for Veronica was infinitely worse than denying that she had feelings for Veronica. She smiled through innocent touches, tried not to stare too much during cheer practice – really, those black short shorts were unfair – and stayed completely stoic when Veronica told her Archie had asked her out. Betty didn’t know who she was more jealous over. She didn’t really understand anything she was feeling anymore.

           “He said Friday night and I asked if we could do right after school because we’re going to drive into the city Friday night and he said that worked for him and... Betty. Oh, Betty, tell me if this is too hard for you and I will cancel in an instant. I swear.”

           Betty almost flinched away from Veronica grabbing her hands but forced herself not to. With a smile, she shook her head. “No. You were right. Archie doesn’t like me back and I have to get over that. You two go. Have a good time. I’ll see you afterwards.”

           Veronica squealed and pulled Betty into a tight hug. A hug that Betty didn’t reciprocate all that readily. All she could think of as she pulled Veronica to her was that the last time they had been this close. The last time Veronica had grabbed her unexpectedly, they’d been kissing Faux lesbian kissing. Betty wasn’t sure how fake it had been, not on her part. Veronica, on the other hand, seemed not to remember the incident at all.

           When Veronica pulled away, Betty gave her her best good luck smile. And as soon as she walked away, Betty let her face fall. She gripped the grates of her locker, felt the metal scrape into her skin, and fought to breathe. Fought hard not to cry.

           Soon, Jughead found her and spent several seconds trying to figure out what the hell to do before he pulled her into a hug. She gripped him tight and sobbed into his shoulder, tried to focus on the soothing tones of his voice in her ear.

           Jughead unintentionally became her rock after that. He spent the next two days at her side – even at lunch – and would pull her attention away every time Veronica or Archie or both of them lapsed into anything romantic. Betty relied on Jughead in those moments, probably too much. But it kept her from cutting up her hands with her nails, from breaking down in the middle of class, and outing herself to both of them as not okay. And bisexual.

           Friday came, the last bell rang, and Betty found herself at her locker with Jughead at her side. He had offered to walk her home and watch bad movies with her until the date was over. But now she had other worries.

           “Veronica booked a hotel room with one bed,” Betty said as she shoved books into her locker. “She bought a freaking couples massage package so that they wouldn’t separate us. I don’t know if she’s actually trying to kill me or if she’s just never met a girl who likes girls before or maybe she just doesn’t know how freaking adorable she is, but I can’t do it. I can’t. I thought the hardest thing would be her and Archie going on a date, but no. It’s the fact that they’re going to go on a date and then we’re going to spend a weekend surrounded by roses while she goes on and on and on about every single detail.”

           “Breathe,” Jughead said unhelpfully. “Just tell her you don’t wanna talk about it. Tell her it’s too hard.”

           “But I already told her I was fine with it.”

           “Yeah, I don’t know why you did that.”

           Betty slammed her locker shut. “Because. If Archie doesn’t like me and she doesn’t like me, but they do like each other, then I shouldn’t stand in their way. They shouldn’t not date just because I’m hopelessly in love with both of them.”

           Jughead nodded even though Betty could tell he didn’t quite understand. “Would this be the wrong time to suggest polyamory?”

           Betty laughed. “Yes, it would be.”

           Jughead smirked. “Sorry.”

           Betty pushed him away and they started to walk out of the building. Once outside, Betty caught a glimpse of Archie opening the door of his dad’s car for Veronica. She smiled at him, the same way she smiled at Betty, and he smiled back, in a way that he had never done for Betty. Betty lost her breath at the sight, stopped in the middle of the sidewalk.

           Jughead wrapped his arm around her waist. “No use looking at that.”

           “I can’t do this. I really, really can’t.”

           “Fake sick.”

           “I’m too nice.”

           “Being nice sounds awful.” Jughead pulled her in the opposite direction of Archie and Veronica. “I mean, I get it’s like, your aesthetic and everything, but remind me to never try it. I much prefer to be the bitchy emo friend.”

           Despite herself, Betty laughed and leaned into his side. She let him talk the whole way back to her house and even let him talk straight through the first movie. Her worries changed from being about Archie and Veronica to being about what her mom was going to say when she came home and found Jughead in her bed. And by the time Veronica texted to say that she was on her way to pick her up, Betty almost felt like she could do this.

  In Veronica’s car, Betty sat in the passenger seat and looked out the window at the rapidly passing fields. The sun had gone down a long time ago, leaving the night sparkling with stars. Betty could hear her own breath over the radio crooning out bad pop music that Veronica sang along with under her breath.

           It had been an hour of this. Betty, silent, pressed against the window. Veronica, singing, her hands tight on the steering wheel. And Betty couldn’t take it anymore. She broke the spell with the words, “How was it?”

           Veronica glanced at her, then looked back at the road. “I didn’t think you’d want to know.”

           Betty shrugged, shifted so that she was sitting upright. “I want to be a good friend. I can’t say it’ll be fun to listen to, but... if you’re excited about it, then I’m excited for you. And all I really want is for you two to be happy, so... tell me how it went?”

           “Thanks.” Veronica smiled and her grip on the wheel loosened a little. “But I don’t think me and Archie are going to be happy together anytime soon.”

           Betty frowned. “What do you mean? I thought at Cheryl’s...”

           Veronica shrugged, shook her head. When she looked at Betty, a sad smile lined her crimson lips. “You know how you can have physical chemistry with someone but everything else is just... flat? We spent the entire evening either in awkward silence or disagreeing about politics. It was a disaster.”

           “How?” Betty turned down the volume on the radio and turned in her seat to watch Veronica. “You two are friends. You have plenty to talk about and a lot in common.”

           “Dating’s different, Bets.” Veronica let one hand slide to the bottom of the wheel and she drummed her fingers against the leather. “All of a sudden it’s just you and them. And it either goes really well or falls flat on its face. Rarely is there an in between. Me and Archie, we fell flat on our faces and I kind of wish we had never tried at all.”

           “But you know now. That’s a good thing, isn’t it?”

           “Maybe? But who knows? Monday morning we could be friends again or we could not even be speaking to each other. And on top of all that, we hurt you and we ruined the memory of what happened in that closet. Is any of that worth it just to know we’re not compatible? We could have been happily suffering our mutual pining romance for the rest of our natural lives. Maybe that would have been better.”

           Betty stayed silent. She couldn’t help but apply that speech to herself. Was life better now that she’d told Archie about her feelings? Or had they irreparably ruined something special? And then there was Veronica. If what she was saying was true, then maybe Betty needed to keep her mouth shut. She could break her heart all over again, ruin what she had with Veronica, and destroy the memory of their kiss. All in one fell swoop.

           “Hey,” Veronica said after a minute. Her tone was light, a smile back on her face. “Are you all right? You seem sadder about this than I am.”

           Betty shrugged, forced a happy expression. “I just really wanted you two to be happy.”

           “You’re sweet, Bets.” Veronica reached over and squeezed her hand. “But I’m happy. I’m with you. We’re on our way into the city for a weekend of pampering and I can’t think of anywhere I’d rather be. Can you?”

           Betty watched Veronica’s mouth move around the words like a shifting bloodstain. Her lashes, dark and luscious, closed over brown eyes. Betty shook her head. “No,” she whispered. “There’s nowhere I’d rather be.”

           Veronica raised Betty’s hand to her mouth and kissed her knuckles. Betty smiled, weak, and promised herself she could make it through the weekend without ruining things.

  Three hours later, Betty lay on her back in the queen bed with Veronica at her side. She stared at the ceiling, drummed her fingers against her stomach, and tried not to listen to Veronica moaning at her side. Whatever the other girl was dreaming about, it was far from PG and Betty didn’t have the guts to wake her.

           She’d nearly gone over her texting limit since they’d gotten to the hotel ninety minutes ago. Not that that had helped anything at all as Jughead continued to prove that his greatest skill was being unhelpful in crisis situations. She’d almost broken down and texted Kevin instead, but he knew where she was and would instantly make the connection between her anonymous crush and Veronica.

           Betty let out a deep sigh. She turned her head to the side, watched Veronica shift in her sleep. She faced away from Betty, so all Betty could really see was the rise and fall of her chest, the restlessness of her legs as she kicked off the covers. On a whim, Betty reached out and brushed a strand of hair out of Veronica’s face. Then, unable to stop herself, she continued to brush her fingers through the raven locks.

           Jughead had been right. She was in too deep.

  The next morning, Veronica woke her by whistling. Betty spent a few extra minutes with her eyes half-closed, a smile on her face as Veronica pranced around the room in her tiny black bathrobe. Then Betty yawned, stretched, and sat up on the mattress.

           “Just in time!” Veronica clapped her hands together. “Room service is on its way. Our first treatment of the day is in an hour – I said we preferred to do mani-pedis first, is that okay? – and then we’re off! Just two girls in love.”

           “What?”

           Veronica laughed as she sat down on the end of the bed, inches from Betty’s feet. She reached out and grabbed Betty’s legs. “We’re doing a couples package, remember? That means a lot of people mistaking us for girlfriends and telling us how cute we are together and how they wish they were lesbians.”

           Betty laughed nervously. “Couldn’t we just tell them we booked it as friends?”

           “Where’s the fun in that?”

           Betty shrugged. She didn’t want to admit that the fun in that was her maintaining a thin hold on her sanity. Veronica patted her legs, then got up to pace around the room some more. Betty followed suit. She pulled one of the hotel’s fluffy white bathrobes over her pink pajamas and sat down at the desk, picked up the newspaper.

           Only seconds later, Veronica grabbed the paper from her as a knock sounded on the door. “The news is only going to stress you out,” she said as she headed for the door. She opened it and ushered in the room service cart, helped to set it up on the little table at the side of the room. She thanked the man who had brought it, tipped him, and then closed the door behind him.

           Betty wandered over to take a look at the food and sat down when Veronica pressed down on her shoulders. “This weekend is all about relaxing,” she said. “I know it’s been stressful lately and we’ve been up and down and everything’s been twisted upside down and backwards, but I’m hoping we can get back to normal here.” She pressed a kiss to the top of Betty’s head. “I love you, Betty Cooper.”

           “And I... love you, Veronica Lodge.” Betty fought to keep the words light as Veronica sat down across from her. She dipped her eyes to her food fast, started to shovel it into her mouth. She nodded along to the conversation, let Veronica feed her bits of this or that from her plate. Betty could hear her heartbeat and she wasn’t quite sure how Veronica couldn’t.

           They moved on from breakfast and on to their first treatment. Conversation got easier and soon Betty was laughing, returning Veronica’s light touches, and smiling whenever someone complimented them on what a great couple they made. Okay, so maybe Betty was able to do that because she’d stopped reminding herself that they weren’t a couple. She’d gone with the flow and accepted every word of praise, leaned into Veronica’s touch, and didn’t stop herself from staring at the other girl. She was perfectly aware that the entire illusion would shatter once they got back to their room and that that would break her heart. But she couldn’t stop herself from allowing the dream to be real, if only for a day.

           She faked fatigue when they got back to the room after dinner and Veronica left her alone to change into her pajamas, brush her teeth, and get ready for bed. Looking into the mirror, Betty pursed her lips and swallowed hard. She could hear the soft buzz of the TV in the other room, knew Veronica was sitting on the bed, stretched out. Betty took a deep breath.

           “You can do this,” she whispered to herself. “One more day and then you’ll be home again and everything will go back to normal. One more day.”

           She pushed away from the bathroom sink and headed back to the bedroom. As she took her place on the bed, Veronica headed for the bathroom. Betty glanced at the TV – a rerun of That 70s Show was on – and turned the volume up a bit.

           When Veronica came back, she snuggled under the covers and moved closer to Betty. She rested her head on Betty’s shoulder and let out a deep sigh. “This is what it should be like,” she murmured.

           “What what should be like?” Betty asked, glancing down.

           “Dating. Relationships.” Veronica’s eyes were closed, her lips moving against Betty’s shoulder. “It should all be this easy. Just... you and me and spa weekends and laughing about stupid stuff and watching TV in bed. This is what I want.”

           “Veronica.” Betty had lost her breath. The word came out almost inaudible. “Do you mean that?”

           “Huh?” Veronica raised her head. Her eyes sparkled, maybe with tears and maybe with fatigue. She shook her head and smiled. “Sorry. I’m just... I really thought Archie might be the one. And I know that’s stupid, we’re in high school, but... I didn’t expect it to go so badly so fast.”

           “Right.” Betty felt her heart restart as a weight fell on her chest. She shifted closer to Veronica and started to rub her back. “But there’s no need to worry. You’re going to live a long, fantastic life, and you’re going to do things that you never imagined you would do. And along the way, you’re going to find the right guy. And he’s going to love you more than the sun and the moon and the stars. And it’s going to be just as easy as this.”

           “Or girl,” Veronica said.

           “What?”

           “You said I’d find the right guy. But it might be a girl.”

           “What?”

           Veronica pulled a confused face and looked up at Betty again, rested her chin on her shoulder. “Have I not told you this yet? Sorry, it’s just I was out to everyone in New York and I guess I just forgot that I never told anyone here.” She let out a slight laugh. “Bet that really changes your opinion of sleeping in the same bed as me.”

           “No. Of course not.”

           Veronica pressed a kiss to Betty’s shoulder. “I do love you, Betty. I love you a lot.”

           “Veronica...” Betty bit her bottom lip, suddenly afraid now that she met her friend’s eyes. But if there was ever a time to do this, ever a time when Jughead’s advice might actually make sense, it was now. Betty licked her lips, took a breath. She could be brave. She could do this. “What if it could be this easy?”

           “Of course it can be. I’ve always wanted to fall in love with my best friend, so—”

           “What if your best friend was in love with you?”

           “That would be great, but—”

           Betty sighed and did the one last thing that she could do to make Veronica understand. She pressed their lips together, very briefly, and pulled back to look at her. And when she did, Betty’s heart fell to her feet.

           Veronica, eyes wide, lips parted, looked terrified.

           “I’m sorry,” Betty said. She sat frozen for a split second and then started to move, scrambled to get out of the bed. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know why I did that.”

           “No! No, Betty.” Veronica grabbed her arm and pulled her back down, hard. “I’m not... shit. I’m just surprised. I thought... you love Archie and—”

           “I love you too. More, maybe. I—”

           It was Betty’s turn to get cut off with a kiss. Veronica took her face in her hands and held her gaze right up until their lips touched. Betty moved to cup Veronica’s hands, pressed into the kiss with shaky breath and unsure lips. Veronica coaxed her mouth open, slipped in her tongue, deepening it past what had happened at cheer tryouts, past what Betty had ever done before.

           Veronica pulled back after a minute and rested their foreheads together. She looked up at Betty through dark lashes. “I am so desperately in love with you, Betty Cooper.” She pecked her on the lips, rubbed her bottom lip with her thumb. “I don’t think I’ll ever get over you.”

           “Then don’t.” Betty kissed her again, fervently. She pulled Veronica to her, tangled up their legs under the covers. “You have no idea what it’s been like. Being here with you. Pretending to be a couple.”

           “I know exactly what it’s been like.”

           Betty laughed. “You haven’t been taking advice from Jughead.”

           “Well, maybe I should have been.” Veronica wiped a tear off Betty’s cheek. “He seems to know what he’s talking about.”

           “What happens when the weekend’s over?”

           “Whatever you want. We tell people or we don’t tell people, but no matter what, we don’t forget how easy this is. How right it is.” Veronica gathered Betty’s hands in her own and kissed them. “I love you and I want you to be happy and I will do whatever makes you comfortable for as long as you want.”

           “We can tell people. Maybe not my mom but... everyone else.” Betty smiled and felt a tear drip into her mouth. “God, I just really want everyone to know how happy I am and how much I love you.”

           “Me too.” Veronica kissed her again, soft and sure.

           Slowly, they sunk down into the bed, sharing kisses and letting their hands wander. They fell asleep with their hands in each others’ hair and their lips half an inch apart.

[whenmusicspeaksfl]

Favorite Albums of 2016

**THIS WAS ORIGINALLY POSTED ON MY BLOGGER ACCOUNT IN JANUARY OF 2017**

I feel like there’s some irony in the fact that two of the hardest periods of my life occurred 10 years apart. The first happened in 2006 when I graduated high school. I was the student everyone had high expectations for. Then I found out I couldn’t pass the math part of the SAT if my life depended on it.

I was given a pamphlet about test anxiety and told to just study harder. My scores actually got lower the more I took both the ACT and the SAT. Tutoring didn’t help either. This was the time I realized I might have an issue with anxiety and depression. At the same time, I thought they had to be constant to be a problem (which is so far from the truth, by the way). So I convinced myself I was FINE, even though this was the first long bout I had with suicidal thoughts and self-sabotaging behavior.

I was already going through the typical teenage stuff of ‘are these people really my friends? The hell am I gonna do after I graduate?’ but then, to make matters worse, I was also questioned by my principal as to what happened with my SATs/ACTs and told by my awful guidance counselor that I had nothing going for me because of my crap score in Math and the fact that I’m white didn’t help. Never mind that I was in the National Honor Society and involved in sports.

They say these things like that come in threes. The third thing ended up being that I received rejection letters from nearly every college I applied to because of my math score (well except for Florida International University [FIU], who deferred me). A lot of them told me that I should go to community college and then transfer, which looking back on it now, I wish I had done. Overall, it was cheaper and now having attended two community colleges, I can confidently say you learn more life skill related things in your classes than you do at university.

My Catholic high school had this attitude about community college that I unfortunately listened to: that it was 13th grade, you were a failure if you went there, blah blah blah. Then there was the parental pressure, mostly from my mother, who would constantly say: “Either you work at McDonald’s or you go to school”. I finally did get into FIU after taking the College Placement Test and taking a remedial math class over the summer.

That period of time was the closest, at least until this past summer, that I’d come to seriously thinking about ways I could off myself. I’d grown up thinking college was the be-all, end-all and I was being smacked in the face by something that had always haunted me: a feeling of inadequacy that now surrounded my academic abilities, which I thought at the time was the only thing going for me.

Obviously all of that is flawed thinking that I fought against the older I got, but that doesn’t mean it was easy to do. Mind you, this was all before I realized I might need help with these monsters, if you will, inside my head.

The second period of time, this past year (2016), saw me closing in on a year in my new home of Orlando (originally I’m from Miami). It’s the first time I’ve been truly on my own and, although it’s been a move for the better, to say it’s been difficult would be an understatement. I took some huge steps career wise and also fell into pits deeper than I thought possible. While I was working on pulling myself back up into the light, the following 2016 albums helped get me over the hump and quickly became favorites:

From Ashes To New “Day One” I sought treatment for my anxiety and depression in 2015 after realizing my symptoms, which had evolved to panic attacks three times a day, racing thoughts and heartbeat as well as exhaustion to the point of having to force myself to do things, were worsening instead of getting better. Finding the right combination of medications to control the physical symptoms and brain chemical imbalances was a bumpy road.

The first one I tried ended up messing up my sodium and hormone levels, so I was switched off of that medication. The second one I tried made my depression worse and I became more suicidal than I’d ever been. Unfortunately I didn’t figure this out until the depression started kicking my ass again.

During the two months until I got back into town/had a day off to see my psychiatrist, this album was the only thing that told the tidal wave of sadness that lives in my mind to chill.

Clean vocalist Chris Musser even said in an interview I did with him: “I think we show that we’ve gone through things in our lives and relate to the kids about that. Relate to everyone. ‘Cause I’ve gone through anxiety and depression most of my life but we always try to put a positive spin on everything we do.”

Fans of Papa Roach will likely find a new favorite band in From Ashes To New as there were will be inevitable comparisons between Papa Roach vocalist Jacoby Shaddix and From Ashes To New’s unclean vocalist, Matt Brandyberry. Musser’s vocal range, which goes from soaring to low effortlessly, is one thing that helps From Ashes To New distinguish themselves. The punishing guitars that are punctuated with just the right amount of electronics is another thing.  Yet another is more theatrical as Musser wears contact lenses that make his eyes look alien-like on stage and in music videos.

Some of my favorites from “Day One” are “Breaking Now”, “Farther From Home”, “Shadows”, “Lost and Alone” and my original favorite “Through It All”. These songs all tell a story of struggle, whether that’s with mental illness, people coming into your life and getting close only to leave as soon as they came in or someone you thought was close to you not being able to handle you pursuing an untraditional career path. They also all feature fantastic lyrics and balance between clean vocals and uncleans.

Some of my favorite clean vocals can be found in the chorus of “Shadows”: “you and your shadow just blasting my name…”. The way Musser accentuates “name” in one line but not the other is a wonderful artistic choice.

From Ashes To New has a talent for writing choruses, as these seem to be my favorite part of their songs, like the one in “Breaking Now”: ​“It's hard to care care care/if I'm breaking now!/every single thing I swear/tries to take me down!/It's hard to care care care/If I make it out!/every single thought of despair/tries to take me down!”

The “care care care” part is an unusual writing choice and it works so well for the song. This part of the song as well as lyrics like “I'm keeping myself alive/to just live like this/and force myself to decide/what's my life's purpose/​I'm stuck in back of the line/and behind the mix/still trying to find what is mine/find where I fit” helped me feel better when I was in a dark place more times that I can count.

Musically, it’s the perfect blend of melancholy piano, electronics, and hard rock. The anguished clean vocals from Musser and the impassioned vocals from Brandyberry also make the song for me. “Breaking Now” has become the first song I go to when I’m trying to feel better. It’s also just a good song to jam to.

Like Pacific “Distant Like You Asked” Like Pacific is a band that’s the perfect blend of punk vocals, melodies, and the angst that made me fall in love with pop punk in the first place. I discovered “Asked” at just the right time in my life as I was dealing a guy breaking my heart and this was the perfect mood music. The album is also especially good writing music.

The band has a talent for wordplay as in the track, “Distant”: “Distant like you asked, hang over my head/my ribs bruised not broken from holding it all in…” I also just love angry lyrics, especially in pop punk songs that don’t sound angry: “My guard, fell down, with the walls created weak/I felt your love, your stupid love that you had wasted all on me/taste the bitterness of me/I hope you sob, I hope you weep…”

The music behind the songs on “Distant Like You Asked” is what initially drew me in. The songs all have a wistful sound to them and when they’re combined with singer Jordan Black’s equally nostalgic or pissed off vocals, depending on the song, they’re the perfect complement to the rest of the music.

“Scarred”, the last track on the album, is the perfect example of this. The lyrics deliver as well: “I'd rather bleed to death/than be forgotten/you've seen a side of me that's been scarred, burned beyond recognition/If I give you one more chance, than I'm a sucker for repetition/afraid of blank space, and consistency/you've seen seen a side of me that's been scarred…”

Other favorite songs include lead track “Richmond” (which found a place in my Top Songs of 2016 on Spotify), track five, “22a” and track eight, “Chine Drive”.

I Prevail “Lifelines” I didn’t pay too much attention to I Prevail other than their (seriously badass) cover of “Blank Space” until Octane, one of SiriusXM’s hard rock channels, added “Stuck In Your Head” to its rotation. It’s one of the few songs that I liked the instant I heard it. I thought the concept of the song and the title were clever and I always enjoy stuff like that.

It took on another meaning after this guy I’d been getting close to pulled the rug out from under whatever our relationship was and decided it was cool to talk to everyone but me about a problem he had… with me. And then still acted like he was there for me and that nothing was wrong. I didn’t even find out about any of this from him but from a mutual friend, which is only one of the reasons I’m still steamed at him.

Knowing I didn’t need any of that in my life didn’t make me feel any less sad or angry. “Stuck In Your Head” took my mind off the sad part at least for three minutes and 35 seconds and reminded me I deserved better. Luckily, now that time’s done its thing, at least I’m no longer sad about him.

You know when lyrics hit you so hard, it either takes your breath away or you just start bawling? I wanted to do both the longer “Chaos”, track five, played. It was the staggered opening that hit me: “Home… Home is where you make it/ from a distance I feel lost, you can tell … Feeling so detached from what I know/I’m living the truth, you’re speaking in lies/It’s getting easier to say goodbye/the harder I try, the farther I fall/away from the place I called my own…” The song goes on to talk about someone close to the narrator that turns his or her back on him just when he needs him or her the most.

During that same time as that guy BS, my roommates and I began having issues with our apartment complex. One of my roommates was offered a better position out-of-state and needed to break her lease. The complex refused to let her see the sublessee list, among other things, leading her to file a complaint against the complex. Long story short, we were forced out and so began some of the hardest months of my life.

I found out that this place I thought I had on lock not only hadn’t processed my paperwork but also didn’t approve my guarantor. I bounced from my friend’s futon to renting a room from a physically and emotionally abusive couple (not to me, but holy crap was that terrifying and hard to hear, especially when a child was involved) back to my friend’s futon and finally to a transitional house, where I still am. Some days were better than others emotionally and on the good days, “Chaos” was like the comforting embrace of a friend I so desperately needed at the time.

“Come and Get It”, track four, is so great when you’re pissed off, especially from people talking shit or you just had a bad day at work. Proving people who would talk shit about you or your goals wrong is what the song is about. When it fully kicks in, I feel like it’d be hard not to bang your head along with it.

“Worst Part Of Me”, the final track on “Lifelines”, was another one that hit me when I was still dealing with my emotions concerning the guy situation. I was all kinds of irritated: that I was so wrong about the first guy I’d let in in years, for one thing. Second, that he thought it was cool to get to know basically everything about me, be sweet, emotionally supportive and make me think he was in it only to use my heart as a plaything. He was like a drug and once he did that, it was like I woke up and came back to my senses, something the lyrics also say.

This song made me feel like someone else got how it felt to be so wrong about someone and I felt slightly less stupid for not seeing it with lyrics like: “After all these years, it’s finally crystal clear/you pulled me in with a warm embrace/to drag me down to the darkest place … If we’re being honest/you broke every little promise/that you made to me, I was too blind to see/I was so defenseless now I’m coming to my senses…”

“RISE”, track eight, was a great song to listen to when I was feeling discouraged at how I could have had such a successful summer only to be basically homeless and broke. Eventually I started working a minimum wage job as a matter of survival… even if the stresses of said job did trigger a panic attack, cause me to up my anxiety medication and break out in stress hives. Listening to lyrics like: “You gotta fight through the pain, to get to the top/You gotta push through it all, if it’s what you want/screaming THIS IS a call to the dreamers/dig a little deeper, make ‘em believers…” helped me remember working that job and doing all I’ve done was a means to an end.

Because I have a warped, dark sense of humor, it amused me how angry “Already Dead” is from the music to the lyrics: “I’d pull the trigger, but you’re already dead/ If I could bring you back to life I would kill you again…”; “…cause when it’s all said and done  I’ll fucking spit on your grave…”; and finally ends by telling the person it’s directed at to go fuck themselves.

The first things I said after hearing it was “damn. I’ve found a song angrier than [Brand New’s] ‘Seventy Times Seven’. I didn’t think that was possible” and “I need to know who this song is about and what they did, ‘cause damn.”

“Pull The Plug” is another one that made me feel like someone got it. Although the lyrics are extreme: Wake me up, I’m seconds from the end/I’m dying to feel, I’ve been dying to live/will somebody give me a sign, so I know I’m alive?/it’s time to wake me up, or pull the plug”, they’re an accurate depiction of what I can only imagine is a struggle with depression or something similar. From the references to “snake inside my mind”, to the “screaming but no words come out…” It’s everything I felt when I realized I wanted help in living with my depression and realizing the kind of hold it had on me.

With Confidence “Better Weather” “Better Weather” is one of two albums on this list that isn’t darker than a black band t-shirt. The reason I love this album is because most of it’s so positive, joyful sounding and because With Confidence is such a kickass band live. I got into them after seeing them repeatedly on this year’s Vans Warped Tour. Their vocals were consistently on point, a hard feat on a long tour like Warped Tour, especially for a younger band like With Confidence.

The song that initially drew me in, “Voldemort”, not only has a fantastic Harry Potter reference but also tells a story about wanting to helping a friend struggling with mental illness. “Better Weather” is one of those albums that you can listen to over and over and never get sick of. It’s hard not to be in a good mood after listening to the cheery (and gorgeous) vocals on “We’ll Be Okay” to “Keeper”, which has both a drum intro and a chorus that’ll stick in your head for days… not that you’ll mind.

They also show depth with slow heartbreakers like “Long Night” and “Gravity”. “Gravity” is one of my favorite songs on the record as it’s about the struggle and sacrifices involved in pursuing a career in the arts. Although I’m not a musician, writing is all I’ve ever wanted to do and that comes with its own struggles, especially in doing something like music journalism. As with musicians, it’s difficult to find a paying writing job.

I can’t tell you how many times I’ve said something like this, albeit less poetically: “Could've been a tradesman/I'd work a 6 till 3/Follow my father's footsteps/To work and spend and sleep/But I couldn't stray from embracing melody/And only in the dark times I'll crave normality”.

The music is minimalistic in the best way and allows lead singer Jayden Seeley to show off his powerful vocals.

“Long Night” is about adjusting to being alone after a long-term relationship ends. Sure, it’s a topic that’s been done to death, but the way Seeley sings it will break your heart.

The lyrics also get more specific than songs like this usually do: “I still have your shirt in my dresser drawer/The one with the stripes that you liked in store/Everything has changed, I wanted more” and “But I remember the nights when you'd lie with me/where we'd talk and we'd touch and we'd fall asleep/I wake up in your arms and I'd feel at ease/But now it’s just me and I lie awake/and I toss and I turn and I see your face/When I wake from a dream it won't go away…”

And if none of that did it for you, I’m sure the somber piano and subtle cello will.

They show off their lyric writing skills on “Dinner Bell”: With clouded minds, souls will split/Down the middle of my life where I just stare/At the walls of contempt that stands so bare/Amongst the stars we are just the specks of dust blown/In by the wind and turned to rust”. Keep an eye on With Confidence; they’re poised to explode onto the U.S. pop punk scene.

Pierce The Veil “Misadventures” My favorite thing about Pierce the Veil has always been the figurative and descriptive language they use in their lyrics and then how that comes together with lead singer Vic Fuentes’ voice and how the music almost always matches perfectly. All of that has only evolved on their highly anticipated fourth album, “Misadventures”.  

“Circles”, track six, has been one of my favorites since it was released as a teaser song before “Misadventures” came out. The building guitar and electronics drew me in and I’m kind of obsessed with how good the main rhythm guitar line is. It works so well with the drums and I just can’t get over it. I may or may not air drum that part every time I listen to it. “Circles” also has Fuentes singing closer to his natural range. From that first word, “listen”, you’re compelled to listen to the rest of the story the band is trying to tell.

“Phantom Power and Ludicrous Speed” is about how the pressure that came along with writing and recording this album got to Fuentes. Despite the (awesome) reference to the Mel Brooks satire of “Star Wars”, “Spaceballs”, I hadn’t heard a song this dark by the band since “Yeah Boy and Doll Face” [off 2007’s “A Flair For the Dramatic]. The lyrics say things like: “I'd put a bullet in my head if I lost you now/Never even owned a bed, just a blood-red couch” and “…as you drag the lake and pull me out//Do you feel the shame inside you?/And as my body lays before you now, do you feel my skin/Is cold?” The vocal choice to speak “cold” is unnerving… in a good way.

I can’t tell you how many times this song flowed over me like a favorite blanket when my brain was waging war against me. Same goes for track three off “Misadventures”, “The Divine Zero”.

I loved track two, “Texas Is Forever”, immediately since punk music was one of the things I grew up listening to. I fell in love with it more because it has some downright poetic lyrics (“Your tears they fall/our lips are locked in lemon groves/and I can never let them, never let them grow/on the side of the road/So take a deep breath and chase it with mine/Your southern hospitality won't mind”) and a pretty epic breakdown that softens what’s been called a “mean” sounding song.

“Dive In” took some time to grow on me as the beginning is uncharacteristically slow for Pierce the Veil, but again the lyrics make the song for me: “Dive in, take a breath/blow the smoke through the hole in my chest/still choking on the bed/found your waste while the ember red keeps falling down and burning holes/until the pillow and the mattress glow…” and “So light the fuse inside your brain and we will detonate/You threw your drink at the wall/it started raining wine and glass so/stay and warm me with the Gentlemen Jack…”

Also, if “Gold Medal Ribbon” doesn’t make you cry at least once, I’m not sure you have a soul. The song is about the first girl Fuentes said “I love you” to dying. Gold Medal Ribbon was her favorite ice cream and she and Fuentes would often get ice cream when they were together. The mournful opening guitar will pull your heartstrings and says almost more than the lyrics actually do in terms of emotion.

Set It Off “Upside Down” This is the other album on this list that’s not black band t-shirt dark, although it does have its moments. For the most part, it has a good balance of upbeat songs that’ll help get anyone out of a funk. It’s impossible to be sad listening to “Life Afraid” and “Something New” and “Uncontainable” will motivate you to get off your ass and do what you need to do.

“Upside Down” does have some songs that are straight pissed off also (I’m looking at you, “Hypnotized”). While the upbeat songs are great and well written, nobody writes a better ‘fuck you’ song than Cody Carson, Set It Off’s lead vocalist. From @Reply, off 2011’s “Horrible Kids” to “Wolf In Sheep’s Clothing”, off 2014’s “Duality”, nobody is more eloquent in telling someone to fuck off than Carson.

And he is in fine form on “Hypnotized”, track nine: “You’re only mad about the fact that I put a light to you/Basically tracing paper when all we see is right through you!/Who doesn’t love analogies with a couple meanings/Especially when it makes a prick like you start steaming/I can tell you’re not quite gettin’ what I said before/what I mean by tracing paper’s that you’re see-through and disposable/goodbye”. The drums are especially good on this song as well – they match Carson’s voice perfectly on the chorus.

This album also had songs that helped me process my feelings about the aforementioned guy situation: “Crutch”, “Tug Of War” and “Admit It”. Then there’s the songs that make you go “awwww”: “Diamond Girl” and “Me W/O Us” (which has a lyric that says “babe, if you leave me, you’re stealing my heartbeat”). “Upside Down” has a song for every mood and I think that’s one of the reasons I like it so much.

This year taught me a lot in terms of relationships whether that’s friendship, a job or a romantic relationship. All of this struggle has only fueled me more to go after the life I want. I’m stubborn like that and I’m determined to see everything pay off. Here’s to 10 times more positive vibes and other good things in 2017.