#what if we fired everyone who's ever fumbled Alex huh

[formulatrash]

Why's Alex Lynn the second most iconic Jaguar driver?

I mean it's not going to be Nelson Piquet Jr is it?

[planetsam]

Max couldn’t bring back Rosa but it drained so much of his energy he is in a coma and Liz, Michael, (Alex who was with him), and Isabell all arrive at the same time to help because they felt his pain

“I get it,” Alex says finally.

Michael’s head flies up.

“You do?”

Alex nods.

“Looking I you hurt for a really long time,” he says, his voice dull to his own ears, “it was worse when we were around each other.”

Michael ducks his head.

Alex wonders why their stars never seem to align properly. They’re like a rubiks cube. When you think one side is figured out, another side is completely scrambled. You can’t just fix one side. It doesn’t work like that. Which doesn’t make this any less painful. Everything making sense doesn’t make this better. It just hurts. But Alex gets it. You can love someone and not be able to be around them. He wishes he didn’t understand that. He wishes he could feel the same way Michael always seemed to when he tried to explain. Instead he pushes himself up.

“I’m gonna go,” he says.

“I don’t want you to,” Michael mutters, but he’s more relaxed than he has been this entire conversation.

“I know,” Alex says, “but you need me to.”

He can do this. He can walk away and protect Michael in the way he needs it. For once. He looks back to see Michael rub at his chest uncomfortably and he wants to tell him he feels that too. But the sadness and discomfort is starting to take on a panicked edge. Alex has seen that look only once before. A few days ago at a prison where Michael lost his family. It’s not a look he ever wants to see again. He takes a step back to Michael as Michael bolts up so fast his chair goes flying back. His hand gropes outwards and Alex grabs it, steadying Michael as he struggles to take a breath.

“Max,” he says, “I can’t—I can’t feel him,” his eyes go wet and bright, “I can’t feel him!”

“We’re going to find him,” Alex says, “can Isobel feel him?” He doesn’t want to get a run down on the powers right now, “Michael!”

“Yeah, yeah—“ Alex keeps a grip as Michael fumbles for his phone, his hands shaking so badly he can barely get it out of his pocket. Isobel is already calling, “Iz!”

“It’s the cave,” she says, “I’m on my way.”

“I’ll drive,” Alex says.

Michael looks at him for a moment, about to say no. But then he nods and follows Alex out to where his car is parked. Michael scrambles in and Alex puts the car in gear. Michael thumbs in coordinates and Alex follows them as Michael’s emotional exhaustion crashes over him. He curls into himself on the seat, slumped against the window. For a man who is constantly loud enough to practically signal aliens with his voice, it’s a horrifying sight. Something Alex hasn’t seen Michael look like since he was a punk run away trying not to get sent back to the system that failed him so many times.

“He’s going to be okay,” Alex says, risking becoming the source of Michael’s anger. Hoping against hope that Michael won’t see it that way. Michael doesn’t say anything and Alex hands his phone to him, “call Kyle.”

“Huh?”

“Call Kyle. Max might need a doctor and he’s the best we have.”

Michael looks at him for a moment and then fumbles to call. Alex keeps driving out into the desert as Michael speaks, frowns and then puts the phone on speakerphone.

“Alex?”

“Yeah?” Alex says.

“Look I’m on my way but, uh, heads up. I may have given your father a high dose of barbiturates so he couldn’t shoot me. He’s alive but he’s in a coma. You’re probably going to get a call from one of your brothers soon,” Kyle hesitates, “if you don’t want my help—“

“Kyle it’s fine. Thank you for not shooting him,” he says.

“I’m on my way,” Kyle says and sounds relieved.

Alex glances over at Michael whose staring at him. The abuse they’ve both gone through has always been this uniting thing, unspoken but very real in a depraved way. But Michael has always had the luxury of thinking he may have come from somewhere good. Someone good. The confirmation is now there as best they can tell. Alex comes from rot and evil.  There’s never been any hope there but now it’s laid out even worse. Michael’s would-be family has always been sacred to him. Now it’s just another thing Alex’s family is responsible for taking from him.

“If he’d shot him it wouldn’t have changed anything,” Alex says.

Michael doesn’t respond.

The car is barely parked before he’s bolting out, ignoring the shout of his name that Alex yells. Max has gone dark. The family he’s lost is an indescribable pain, it’s one he literally does not have the ability to comprehend fully. He’s got on frame of reference for a mother who loves him or a father who protects him. Not in a way that doesn’t hurt. But Max. Max is very real. And Michael has a very real frame of reference for losing him. Not in the way where they don’t talk, in the way where Mrs. Evans comes and takes him away. Michael races into the cave and skids to a stop.

Rosa is crumpled by the weird ass altar Noah made for her. Her burns are half healed, but she is very, very dead. Michael remembers the heat of the fire. There’s nothing left of the prison but if there was, they would look like Rosa. He rips his eyes from the sight and looks further into the cave where something far more horrifying waits.

Liz is breathing for Max.

Michael is good at thinking on his feet but for a moment he is paralyzed. His life is laid out in a perfect line. The burned past is behind him, begging for his attention. And in front of him, in front of him are the things that matter in his life. He has a moment where he doesn’t know where to go. What to choose. But some part of him does. Some part of him always, always does. It feels like ripping himself apart each time, but the living always win. He scrambles over to Liz and Max. Liz is focused entirely on him, counting softly. She pinches his nose and seals her lips over his and Michael watches his chest rise with her air.

“I think he tried to save Rosa,” she says, her fingers pressing into Max’s neck, “he’s got a pulse but he was barely breathing—“

“We called Kyle,” Michael says.

She nods. Satisfied with Max’s pulse, she pinches his nose and gives another breath.

“We just found her,” Michael blurts out, “we didn’t know.”

“I believe you,” Liz says, giving him a quick smile before she breathes for Max again. She’s steady but he knows she’s barely holding on. He can’t imagine seeing the body of a family member like that, “Michael I—“

“I’m gonna move her,” he says, realizing what she can’t ask. Relief crumples her features, “I got this, just keep doing that.”

He goes over to the body.

Fuck Noah. Fuck him so hard. Carefully he tucks the blankets around Rosa and covers her. He picks her up and comes out of the cave. When he does step into he light, he realizes where Alex is. Isobel looks frantic and Alex is speaking to her quietly. Isobel is listening and when Alex sees him, he shifts so that Michael can slip out and put Rosa’s body where Liz can’t see it. He comes back and goes over to Isobel and Alex.

“Iz!”

“Michael!” Isobel grabs him in a hug that crushes his ribs, “I almost crashed over here—“ she presses her hand to her forehead, “I felt him—“

“Me too,” Michael says, “he’s in there. He’s alive.”

“I thought I might make it worse,” Isobel admits.

“No, no way. Come on,” he says, guiding her into the creepy ass shrine.

Isobel inhales sharply at the sight of Max. Liz has stopped breathing for him and Michael can see his chest rising and falling. But Liz has propped him up so his head is on her lap. She’s bent over him, whispering something with her hands cradling him. Michael can see she’s got his hand pressed to her chest, the glow on her skin echoing the one in his hand. But Liz hasn’t been hurt as far as he can tell. She’s got nothing to heal. Which can only mean—

“Oh gross,” he mutters. Alex raises an eyebrow, “Max used his powers during sex.”

Isobel’s lips press into a disproving line, but some of the tension on her face eases slightly at the joke. Liz is so focused on Max she doesn’t hear them and Max probably wouldn’t hear them anyway if Liz has his hand that close to her boobs.

“I’m here,” Kyle says, running into the room, “is that hair? Human hair?” He demands looking at the shrine.

“Kyle!”

Kyle pushes past them. He pauses only a moment, taking in the sight of the pod, of Liz with the glowing handprint and of Max laying there.

“He was barely breathing when I found him,” she says, “when I put his hand here he started to breathe again.”

“Let me check him,” he says, “keep his hand there,” he quickly does several checks that Michael vaguely recognizes before he grabs his pen light and pulls open Max’s eyes. He looks at Liz, “take his hand away and let me try again,” he says. Liz looks at him for a moment and then carefully removes his hand from her skin, gripping it tightly as Kyle does the same thing. He’s doctor training takes over and he looks at Michael and Isobel, “he’s comatose, best I can tell. But he’s breathing. He needs a hospital.”

“He can’t,” Isobel speaks up, “he can be at my house,” she says firmly. Then she looks at Michael, “you should come to.”

Michael nods.

He doesn’t have anywhere else to go.

Liz keeps Max close and rides with him in the back of the car, holding him close. Michael can see his own exhaustion mirrored on her face. He doesn’t get how so much can happen, Max can do so much stuff and yet the moment things go south he’s the first person Michael looks for. It’s disconcerting to see him laying there so limp. Max is never limp like that. Especially not after the mania he had earlier. They settle him in the guest room while Isobel gets him sheets for the other couch. No-one wants to go in the master bedroom.

“Thank you,” He says to Alex finally, when everyone’s settled, “you didn’t have to come back like that—“ Alex frowns, “but thank you.”

“I don’t know if this is true,” Alex says, “but the only way it stopped hurting was to face it and be around you.”

Michael shifts his weight uncomfortably and looks up at Alex who knows what he’s going to say, even before he does.

“I’m not ready for more hurt,” he says.

“That doesn’t make you a coward,” Alex offers. Michael chews his lip and looks away, “I’ll be here when you are,” Alex rashly promises.

“Huh?” Michael seems surprised. Alex keeps his face smooth.

“You waited a decade for me to get my shit together,” Alex says, “I’ll wait until you’re ready.”

“But—“ Michael doesn’t seem to know what to do with that. Alex isn’t sure he can ever make up for his part in making Michael feel like he’s not good enough. But fuck if he isn’t going to try, “why?”

“You need it right now,” Alex says, “you gave me what I needed—“

“I wasn’t happy about it,” Michael tells him, looking incredibly nervous to admit it. Alex nods, “oh,” Michael realizes, “but—“

“I’m still going to do it,” Alex says. Michael doesn’t know how they’ve switched with Alex being the vulnerable one and him retreating. But he doesn’t like the feeling, “no matter what happens, I’m okay with waiting for you.” Alex is careful not to put limits on it, he knows that’s what Michael is waiting for. Instead he looks at him, “call me. If you need anything, if you want to talk—I’m here,” he says. Michael is silent so he turns for his car.

“Wait, wait!” Michael grabs his sleeve and gets in front of him, “I hate this. I hate it. You gotta know—“

“I do,” Alex assures him before the messy desperation can continue, “I promise, I know better than anyone.”

“But what if—“ he stops. There’s a million ways this could go wrong and nothing will end the way it should. And then what? He’ll have wasted so much of everyone’s time. If he doesn’t figure this out. Alex grasps his hands and carefully cradles them, “what if I fuck this up?”

“You won’t,” Alex says and Michael doesn’t know how he’s so certain, “I believe in you.”

Michael looks away. The weight of this thing has always been what pushes Alex away. Now he feels the urge to have it do the same to him. Instead he flips his hands and grabs Alex’s in both of his. They’re so close it’s too easy to rest their foreheads together. Michael wants to stay like this forever, but he can’t. The pain is roaring up and he’s going to drown and take Alex with him. All he can do is step back, look at him and give him the best smile he can manage.

“It’s too soon for x-files jokes,” he says.

Alex scoffs, rolls his eyes and smiles back.

It’s the image he’s going to take with him, Michael decides and turns to the house so he doesn’t have to watch Alex leave again.

Alex waits until he’s inside to get in his car and pull away.

[realisationanddoubt]

The binary: realisations and rants

Can we talk about the gender binary a bit? Of course we can. It’s my blog, we can talk about Naruto or the impossibility of clown cars if I wish. So I’ve been thinking a lot about me after my break up as, I suppose, is normal. Thanks to this I’ve stumbled across an identity crisis I’ve been putting off for years. I’m non-binary and that’s a weird thing to just non-chalantly write down for me. See, I’ve spent years talking about how I don’t really care about gender. As a bisexual, I’ve had the conversation numerous times. As a stereotypically effiminate person I’ve spoken many times about how I’m comfortable in myself acting however I want because the gender stereotypes hold no interest to me. But I’ve never really bothered to delve into why.

It’s taken awhile to come to terms with being non-binary. It’s like coming to terms with my sexuality all over again. As usual, I’ve been presented a choice. The sexuality and identity fairy came to me twice now and happily asked “men or women” and I, in classic me style, didn’t really pay attention to the fact that there was a clear binary choice and only half listening just replied “Oh, no thank you!”

It’s difficult to live in a world defined by binaries and then realise you’re not really interested in participating. When I very first realised I might be non-binary a couple of months back, I got lost in a strange narrative. Do I need to start wearing make up? Should I make myself more androgynous, shave my beard? How do I present as non-binary? Of course the answer (For me) is you don’t. I should have really known that from the start because I had to do the same thing with my bisexuality. It took many years to get from “How do I let everyone know I’m bisexual?” to “I don’t really care who knows what my sexuality is and I have no desire to share that information.” I’ve approached being non-binary much the same. I get that people are proud of their sexuality and identity and seriously, good for them. That must be a nice thing to have. Thing is I’m not particularly proud. Let me see if I can put this into words.

So for me, sexuality and identity are both very matter of fact. I’m not proud of either of those aspects of me but don’t get me wrong, I’m not ashamed. The idea of being proud of either of those things is, for me at least, the same as being proud of having curly hair or brown eyes. Sure, there was some emotional turmoil coming to terms with my sexuality and identity but it’s not like these are things I had to strive and work for. They’re just facts. I don’t really care if people call me he or they. They feels a bit more natural I guess but it doesn’t particulalry bother me being called he. And note, I get called he because I have a beard and a masculine build. When I was a teenager with heavy eyeliner and long flowing hair I got called miss and she a lot and that never particularly bothered me either. I’ve never particualraly felt some kind of rage at being misgendered. I don’t really care that people assume I’m straight (I kind of care in that way of, Jesus dude open your mind and stop making assumptions but not enough that I’ve felt the need to correct anyone.)

Though I wonder how much this is a story I tell myself. Just like it’s difficult telling yourself actually, you’re not any of the traditional genders, telling yourself you don’t really care about presenting and pronouns in a community that’s so fired up about them feels weird. 

“Welcome to the queer community! Would you like to be angry about misrepresntation of your sexuality or your identity?” The queer fairy politely but firmly asks.

“Ah, no thank you, I’ve already eaten.” Josh replies, not really paying attention to the climate or the question.

I even considered whether I’m supposed to change my name. Am I supposed to change my name to something a bit more androgynous? Maybe start calling myself Alex or Frankie or any other name that could be either gender? But I don’t want to. I’m just Josh. I’m a bisexual, non binary mess and Josh is my descriptor. 

Should I care more? Should I be fighting some war against ignorance? Am I somehow doing a disservice by not participating?

Not participating is basically my default. “Here lies Josh, they didn’t participate.”

I kind of make life more difficult for myself by not divulging these things. People have asked me before “Are you gay?” and I just reply “nope!”. Then I get annoyed that people just assume I’m straight despite literally never giving any evidence to the contrary. I guess it’s just a problem with the system. My sexuality and identity are improtant to me but they’re personal. I’m not going to talk about them to work colleagues or friends anymore than I’m going to talk about my kinks. 

“Hey Josh are you gay?” My well meaning but misguided colleague asks.

“Oh no, I’m bisexual, non-binary and I like scratching and biting during sex.”

You really going to just out your kinks like that online huh my dude? It should say enough about me that I feel a swell of anxiety to putting a fairly vanilla kink on a personal blog no one I know will ever read. Do I really want Tumblruser420 to know I like biting in bed? Feels like an overshare. 

This really became a bit of a deep dive into gender identity huh? I guess I’m just going through some stuff. 

Quick tangent, whenever I hear a noise in my house, despite having two cats that are always the cause, I need to check every room just in case. I even check the bathroom which only has one very small window next to the door. Just in case some sneak thief broke in through the plughole I guess. Some S’wit. Some N’wah.

God I’m just going through some Stuff y’know? I worry how much of my outlook might be down to internalised shame and not just non-chalant IDGAF attitude. I haven’t put Non-Binary on my tinder profile. I mean I have but I’ve set it not to show. I don’t know if that’s out of fear of being judged for it or simply because I haven’t come to terms with it myself. To be clear, I definitely haven’t come to terms with it myself yet. I have bisexual on my profile but I guess I’m still kind of ashamed of that.

Is it shame? I guess it’s more fear. Not like a fear for myself or my safety or anything. More a fear of people’s perceptions. It’s not even that I’m scared people will be shitty to me because of it. If that’s the kind of person they are, fuck them. I just don’t want to be “That queer one”. Does that make sense? I kind of hate to term cishet because it only seems to be used as derogatory but I need to use it a sec. I think the main reason I’m happy to just pass as cishet is because then I’m allowed to be a person. The second you’re something different that’s it. That defines you. I get it needs to be a conversation so people stop being ignorant and hateful but at the same time even just the discussion about it feels like it’s pushing me into this definition. Like being bi or being non-binary means I’m a certain kind of person. 

I guess it’s the classic tale of any ism. Racism, sexism, homophobia...ism. I am bisexual. I am non-binary. But I don’t want to be the bisexual. Being defined by something like that, something so out of your control... It feels so... dismissive? I’m not a person anymore. I’m not Josh. I’m a bisexual. I’m non binary. I’m white. I present as a man. All that shit. This is starting to become a rant on the construction of society as a whole and the role of privelege and what that means huh?

I’m creative, emotional, witty. That’s what I’m defined by. That’s who I am. I’m not just some pigeon hole word. Define me by my facets, not my facts.

Realisations are a funny thing. I have a lot of realisations in my life and mostly I like them but this one leaves a sour taste in my mouth. It’s not that I don’t care, that much is apparent after this rant. I’m just so tired of it. I avoid all the discourse and conversations about any kind of identity issues because I’m tired of defending myself. It doesn’t matter where you fall on the spectrum. These kind of labels aren’t useful. They’re just a method of pinning something to someone that says “Can I just hate this person out of hand.” and it’s rife. It’s everywhere and it’s all the same. I don’t care if you’re having a rant about black people or a rant about cishets. It’s all just vicious hate. We live in a world where people are so desperate to have someone to hate because they’re different. Whether that difference is in the majority or the minority it doesn’t matter. Hating all men or all straights or all whites is no different from hating all trans people or all queer people or all black people. Hating all millenials because they’re special snowflakes is no different from hating all boomers because they’re not progressive. It’s just pure hatred because they’re different. Just blanket statements attached to something someone can’t control to give you a reason to say “Oh don’t worry, I’m allowed to hate them”.

Maybe keeping my identity or my sexuality to myself makes me a coward. Fine. I refuse to participate in these wars of hatred. I just want to spend time with my cats, fall in love, help people and laugh. 

As always, as will be written on my gravestone one day, I refuse to participate. To all those people who fight for my ideal world on my behalf, thank you. To all those people on either side, progressive or traditional, just to hate one subset of people, go fuck yourselves. I’ll just be over here, trying to make the dying smile and trying to give people a little longer in this world to spend with the people they love.

That’s it. Rant over. I’m going to try and get another hour or two of sleep before work. I know it’s customary to drop the mic after a big speech but know if it felt like I did, I just fumbled putting it back into the mic stand and I’m trying to own it. If you look closely you’ll see that the blood has drained from my face and perspiration is clear on my forehead.

[austonmatthews-34]

Not Another Number Part-10

I’ll just leave this right here.

It’s not that you were excited about leaving the arena but it just meant that you could finally be around a smaller amount of people. Plus you left with Auston, while the rest of his family took the car you rode in with them to the game. You didn’t partake in the conversation Auston began in the car; he kept going on about how they really couldn’t have pulled that game off without Freddie in net. You continued to nod and occasionally agree to whatever he was saying it was going great, until:

“Y/N, hello?” a hand waved in your face.

“I’m sorry what?” you blinked around, focusing on his face.

“Have you heard me at all this whole ride here?” you looked around not realizing you were already at the restaurant Bre suggested before you departed into separate cars.

“Of course I have.” You smirk at him while reaching over to kiss his cheek. As you pulled away his hand lifted up stopping you and pulling your chin back to him as he planted one kiss on your lips. You felt his warm kiss from his lips that were still on fire from the game he just won.

“Ready?” he asked as if that was the phrase for you to open your eyes.

“Always.” You smiled while pulling away to get out of the car.

Dinner was enjoyable for you. You felt more relaxed with his family after the game. Although Bre and Alex were still nudging you every now and then to find out who made the first move, but you didn’t give in. Everyone seemed so hungry but you couldn’t help thinking of the encounter you just had moments ago with that stupid jerk from the Red Wings.

“Y/N dear, are you not hungry?” Mrs. Matthews asked while you twirled your straw for the thousandth time.

“I think my stomach is just a little upset.” You smile as she continued to look concerned,” I think I’m still too excited from the game winning goal.” Speak while looking towards Auston. Mrs. Matthews nodded along and left you to be.

Dinner didn’t go on for much longer as Bre was tired and Mr. Matthews kept looking at his phone due to work. You all said your goodbyes as you left for a moment to let Auston have a more personal moment with them again.

Getting into the car, you didn’t want to make eye contact with him yet. He was still really happy from the game and you didn’t want to bring him down in anyway.

“Are we getting brunch with your family tomorrow?” you ask as he intertwines his fingers in yours.

He looks over to your and smiles before speaking, “No, they’re leaving on an early flight to avoid as much jetlag as they can.”

“Oh I’m so sorry I would’ve stay longer or hugged them more if I would’ve know.” your face tenses up as you hope you made the best impression for the past few days.

“Relax you didn’t know, they’re tired and they like you already.”

Walking into his apartment you turned the lights on one by one. You kicked you shoes off and handed your coat to Austin who hung them up.

“I’m gonna go change. “

“I’ll be in a minute.” He softly mumbled while scrolling on his phone.

Rummaging through your suitcase, you were running out of things to wear. For how late it was you just went into Auston’s top drawer and got out a grey t-shirt to wear to bed. You took off the number 34 jersey and thin long sleeve underneath all at once. Fumbling out of your leggings you threw them back into your suitcase and pulled your hair up into a ponytail. Turning around to get into your side of the bed Auston wrapped his arms around your waist.

“My t-shirt?”

“I’m running out of things to wear, what do you expect?” you snicker.

“Well you’re clearly wearing it better than me right now, Y/N.” There it was, his devilish smile. You’d only seen it once before when you first introduced yourself to him. He leaned down to kiss you but you pushed him back onto the bed.

“Not so fast Matts. You’ve caught me getting dressed twice now, that’s not a very even score is it now?” he sat up a little still wearing his devilish grin but shaking his head no.

“And I’ve always wanted to play a fair game but can’t help to think that you’re cheating here?”

“In my defense, I did say I was coming in, in a minute.”

“Well I can play at this game then.” He wasn’t gonna give up. He always wanted the upper hand and with you having to leave in a few days to get back to college you wanted him to remember what he’ll be missing when you’re back studying.

“Huh?” he slipped out raising an eyebrow. Pushing him back again you climbed on top of him.

“Y/N what ar-,”

“Do not talk. Just remember this, especially when I’m back at college and you’re on the road.” You began placing small kisses on his collarbones and unbutton his light blue dress shirt. Slowly trailing down his body you looked up at him as his gaze was focused on you. He sat up, clutching your face tenderly in his hands and continued to kiss you. It was different for him. He has self-control out there on the ice, but in the bedroom was more difficult to just not do anything. As the kiss deepened, your mind wondered to imagine what it’s going to be like without seeing him one-on-one like this everyday. Sure there will be Facetime and his silly snapchats to come, but you won’t have what you are doing right now. And you’ve just met this boy and his family, does this all make sense right now? What about what happened at the rink with the juice jerk?

“Y/N, stop.” He pulled away.

“What’s wrong?”

“I need to ask you something.” You froze like a deer in headlights, “Did someone talk to you after the game? Someone from the other team?” you pulled further away.

“Has this been on your mind?” You held your legs into your stomach.

“It’s just, Mitch mentioned something and I wanted to make sure you’re okay. And then at dinner you weren’t hungry and everyone likes food. I want you to know I do care, and obviously now Mitch does too.”

“This guy just came up to me and acted like he could get any girl he wanted and when I said no, that wasn’t the right answer for him.”

“Y/N..”

“I’ve been in a situation before like that, but not with someone who felt so entitled like that.” Auston inched closer to you wrapping his arms on top of yours. “You didn’t talk that way to girls before we talked, right?”

“No, never. My mom always told me how to be polite and that it doesn’t matter how big or small someone is.” He looked away and then back down towards you,” Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“I just thought I wouldn’t fit in. To this thing we’re building. This pop-up relationship where everyone has such a role to play and I don’t want to be the stupid one and mess things up.”

“Don’t ever think that. Whatever our relationship is becoming isn’t based on people playing different roles. But at least I get to play your boyfriend so to speak.” Smiling up at him you let go of your legs causing him to plant a forehead kiss or two on you.

“I don’t want to go back to college. I just want to stay here with you.” You groaned laying into him.

“I don’t want you to go back either but luckily half your semester is over.”

“You’re right. And then what?”

“Whatever you want.”

“That’s the worst answer, let’s plan something.”

“Okay but in the morning?” he gently slurs as he turns of the light.

“It’ll give me something to dream about tonight.”