#y the fuck would we know that in a seemingly infinite universe

[imonthinice]

The Criminal Psychology Majors, Jason Todd x Fem!Reader Part 12/?

Word Count: 4.4k

Author’s Note: Y/N - Your Name, A/N - Any Name (Your Best friend’s name)

God idk what i’m doing with this but i’m liking it lmao

next one might honestly be smut idk

Warnings: Violence, Swearing, Description of Blood, Gets heated, hints at trauma, no beta bitch we die like Jason Todd

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6) (Part 7) (Part 8) (Part 9) (Part 10) (Part 11) (Part 12) (Part 13) (Part 14) (Part 15) (Part 16) (Part 17) (Part 18) (Part 19) (Part 20)

Y/N walked through the streets of Gotham, which were once bustling with people, but now were quiet with the occasional hooker, she had caught the city as an unlively hour, where it seemed to sleep the night away while the vigilantes of the area watched it like their lives depended on it. In some ways it did, the stories they would tell when being interviewed were horrific sometimes, but Y/N figured a decent amount of it was for dramatization, to keep the people of Gotham off of the streets to protect them all from it.

The question was always protect them from what, and they never answered. So, it never kept the people of Gotham at bay from the streets at night, and had Y/N’s car not been towed, she would have been driving home in the safe, secluded area of her car, not the vast wilderness of the streets of Gotham.

She looked up at the sky to see one of the virgate boys using a grappling hook to fly to the other building, which was such a sight to behold for someone who never witnessed a superhero beyond Superman at home. She wished and longed to know more about the vigilante, but didn’t dwell or dote on that man, because she didn’t need to.

Something told her that he was watching though, tracing every step she made to make sure she got home in one piece. She thought she was crazy, her life didnt matter more than anyone else in Gotham. He’s not following me, why would he? she thought, Even though I’m dating Jason Todd, they probably don’t know Jason, so my life doesn’t mean much more to them than any one of the hookers along this street. I’m overthinking it.

The walk home took two hours, she left Jason’s at 4am just to find herself back home at 6am, bright and early as the sun rose, ready to greet the day and all it had in store for everyone. But the things it had in store for Y/N was a class and if she was lucky, cuddling with Jason. Nothing more, nothing less.

She would open her front door, unscathed from the journey home, except maybe for a few callouses on her feet, it was the last time she wouldn't pay for more than a day of parking, that’s for sure. Heels were not the shoes you wanted for a two-hour walk home in the Autumn cold, but they were what she had.

She thought about what she was going to do next, and the first thought she had was to shower. Not because she needed to, but because she wanted to nurse the terrible headache she had and to think some things through. What she normally did in the shower.

She wanted so much more from so much of her life. the main offender of seemingly not being enough for her was Jason. Not because she didn’t want more, but because she craved more from him. He was injured, so she wouldn’t get much more rom him for the time being, and it stung a little for her. She just wanted him, maybe sexually, maybe in a more romantic setting or maybe just on her couch on a Thursday afternoon. It was all three of those options and she knew it.

She pulled out of the shower and looked at the time, 6:50am. Okay, she thought, little more time than I wanted to spend in the shower, but I guess the universe had different plans for me today. What else do you have for me, universe? And how much of you plan involves Jason?

She would open her phone after quickly getting dressed. While she still cared for her appearance, she didn’t want to dress like she owned a law firm every day, so she didn’t. Just black jeans and a black top and she felt like a million bucks. 

Just some quick outfit inspo. I like doing these a lot. I think fashion is funky :))

Artemis had sent her a message asking where she was at around 4am, she wondered why the time, but she then remembered that Artemis’ boyfriend worked with Dick Grayson, who was Jason’s brother, who worked most nights until radical hours of the night. The chances that he saw her on her two-hour walk home was high, but the chances that that had also made it back to Jason was higher. She knew she was in for it.

Hey sorry, I was at Jason’s. Fell asleep in his arms the whole shebang. And yeah, that was me who screamed the yo momma joke at the press. It was super childish, I know, but I don’t care. Those fucks are sucking my life force out of me and harassing my boyfriend, even your boyfriend.

She would then look at the articles calling her a gold digger and worth-nothing childish insulter of the press. She laughed. If the press wanted a fight from her, she was more than willing to oblige and load the canons. 

She didn’t know how to fight back that well, since it was a mainly verbal fight, and she barely even knew how to  fight physically, hence all the running and non-confrontational arguments she had had to the press.

And like fucking clockwork, Jason texted her.

Did you walk home alone or are my brothers lying bastards?

I walked. I knew someone saw me, fuck.

Why did you walk home? I thought you drove here?

I did, but we spent more than 12 hours together Jason. I didn’t buy enough hours, suddenly my car was being towed.

You could have asked for a ride home from Alfred! He would have in a heartbeat.

I was going to! But  I got distracted and it all became a blur and suddenly I was part of the way home in the dark by myself!

What if you had gotten hurt?

Well, I saw one of the vigilantes of the city on the rooftops, I’m sure if I screamed they would have seen me. They always do see that stuff.

So, your car got towed huh?

Yeah, I don’t know when I’ll be able to pay it off. It’s not exactly like money my parents give me should go to my car getting towed because I got fucked over by seeing my boyfriend. 

You’ll figure it out. Sorry about the car, that’s got to suck fucking ass.

You think? I’m stuck taking the fuckin’ subway till I get my car back. I hate the subway, too many people. Far too many people. Too many eyes. It gets stressful really quickly. Might just walk every where honestly, I can’t deal with the eyes of strangers.

But you’re a C-list celebrity.

Internet is different. I can just block the bad eyes and move on with my life, you should see my block list now that some people are connecting my name to the girl who flipped off the press, thank god Twitter has a fuckin block feature.

You should really just meet my family so you don’t have to run away before they get home, would probably cause you a lot less financial stress, Y/N.

I’ll think about it.

You should think a little harder about it. I don’t want you to get your car impounded ‘cause you’re seeing me, why did you even park in pay-to-park?

Did you not see the massive mob trying to get to you? It was impossible for me to even try to pull into the driveway. Hence why I’m being insulted, you know, ‘cause I yelled at the press to get them to leave me alone. I fucking hate the press, you’re stabbed, severely injured last time they got information, and they’re harassing me, asking me what I like to do on the weekends.

Fucking vultures. Yeah, I’ve seen that. I’ve read the articles. But that’s the press for you, absolute trash and spitting bullshit in everyway.

Fucking hate the press, that’s for damn sure. Despise them. I won’t ever change that, even if, knock on wood, we break up.

Praying we don’t break up so I can see you lose your shit at the press when you’re bored.

She would get up to go make some coffee, since it was closer to 7:20am and if her roommate woke up, she could just tell her to get up anyway.

The press can suck my dick. she said.

You have a dick?

Oh yeah. Massive. 20ft long. It probably won’t even fit all the vultures.

Oh my god, that’s not as big as mine.

lmfao is it now?

Oh yeah.

Nice.

Anyway, my brothers are staying home from school today,  I think they’re making me play Resident Evil 8 with them? You know that game?

Of course. Everyone in that game is infinitely hot.

Are you bi? 

I don’t know. Haven't thought that far ahead to actually label myself. I just like people. Sometimes it’s men, sometimes it’s women. But you have to agree when you see them all. That game came out when I was still in  high school, so I’ve played the entire thing. My phone background is actually one of the characters.

Which one?

I’ll show you if I come over tonight.

My brothers might be in my room, though.

Okay, but, RE8 is an amazing game. So, worth it.

You won’t meet them normally but I pull out a game you love and you’re down?

I’m very easy to convince.

You still have notes to write when you come over though.

Oh yeah, I was probably going to have to come over both ways, just because I need those notes and you do too.

Do you not own a printer?

I barely even own a laptop, I’m waiting for my old one to come in the mail. 

How do you even manage?

With a whole lot of will and spite, anything is possible.

And that’s when her discord group chat @’ed her. She was on Do Not Disturb because she was Jason, and apparently they missed her.

Y/N! C’mere. One said.

Yes? Whatduhya want nerds?

We’ve decided to hold a fake internet wedding between you and Christopher. Another said.

A what.

We’re getting married!

Sometimes I wish I never left Metropolis and then I remember you fucks live there. Why are we doing this? You do know I have a boyfriend right? She asked them.

I don’t know, we’re bored and we miss you. We can have a bachelorette party in Gotham, if you want.

I’m this close to going back on DND.

The group chat was made way back when they had all first met in grade 9 and had been active ever since. They all had stayed in the city when they graduated though, but since Y/N received a scholarship, fully paid for, she took the opportunity and jumped.

They were some of her closest friends, even if they lived in a different city to her now, even if they were all busy with school, even if she was busy with school and a boyfriend, A lot of her life wouldn’t be complete without her crack friends in her hometown.

They had all ben partying like crazy while she was gone, and if she wasn’t so hung up in her own life, she’d probably be down there with them. 

Before you do, can you please explain why you’re screaming at the press, lmao.

Because fuck the press, dude. Why else? 

What did they do to you?

Have you seen the recent articles?

That’s true.

She laughed and finished her coffee. Jason had not responded yet, she assumed his brothers were either checking on him or they had started the game. It was around 8am when A/N finally left her room.

“I thought you were staying with Jason?”

“I was, but then I remembered he has like 9 siblings and I’m not about to meet them all. Then I walked home.”

“You walked?”

“Car got towed.”

“Fuck, can you afford the bill? I can’t.”

“Nope.”

“Guess we’re going to take the subway for a while, huh.”

She sighed and put her cup in the sink, “At least you don’t have school to go to and your lover comes to meet you, I have shit to do and places to be,” she frowned, “Inconvenient.”

“Could you borrow money from Jason’s dad?”

“I don’t borrow money from family, it’s hard enough for me to accept the money my parents send me.”

“I know it is, when’s your class?”

“3pm, I’ll be leaving at 12pm though, because the subway is unreliable.”

“This is going to be a hard hit for us.”

“Well, it’s not like it’s fucking your credit. Mine’s tanking.”

“You’ll pull through it.”

-------------------------------------------

She got onto the subway at 12:30pm. She really hated the way it was running. The people, the faces, the staring eyes of unwanted attention. People knew who she was and she hated it. She didn’t like the attention, she just liked the fucking with people. She wanted to get off the subway the minute she got on.

She eventually couldn’t take it and got off a few stops away, there was still a substantial walk towards the college, but she knew it would be. She even brought a leather jacket with her so that she could walk if she couldn’t take it anymore.

And there she was, in the busy streets of Gotham, walking to her college. Barely aware of the people who did stare at her, because she just kept walking, lost in her thought but aware of the people in her trail, the cross walks and the lights she was waiting for occasionally. She just kept walking until Artemis met up with her,

“Hey! I didn’t know you were walking to school today,” Artemis said.

“Oh! I didn’t want to, my car got towed though.”

“Your car got towed? That sucks so much. Well, we’re going the same way, so I’ve decided I’m going to walk with you, you get no say.”

“Of course. I was going to ask if you wanted to,” she laughed, “It’s more fun with a friend anyway, Art.”

“So, how are things with you and Jason, I’m legally obliged to ask as one of his friends.”

“Well, we made it official if that’s the kind of thing you want to hear,” she laughed again, “I’m sure it’s the answer Dick will eat up.”

“You’re right about that one. Dick’s a sucker for a romantic story, you should write one, since you write. He’d probably read it all.”

“Well, that would be fun, but I still don’t have my laptop.”

“You could use Jason’s?” Artemis suggested..

“Nah. It’ll be fine,” she said, “I’ll manage.”

“Aren’t you collecting notes for him for your psychology class?”

“I am, it’s not like he can go anywhere. I actually told him he’d need to walk eventually so that it’s not a learning curve when he’s healed.”

“That’s what all of us are telling him too, he’s a stubborn man, good luck with that one,” Artemis laughed, “He’s always been the stubborn friend. Worse than Will, actually, and Will is really bad with being stubborn.”

“It’s fine,” she laughed, “If you asked any of my Metropolis friends they’d say the same about me.”

“I bet you were quite the wild child in your heyday back in your city,” Artemis laughed, “I hate Metropolis.”

“Who doesn’t? It’s so crowded.”

“Uh, Clark doesn’t. He thrives there, no idea why, he grew up in Smallville. If anyone should be uncomfortable with Metropolis it should be the small-city country boy, but I guess it’s his thing.”

“I forget you know everyone.”

“We know a lot of people, are you’re slowly being let into our massive circle of very well-known people. Welcome to the group, I guess,” she laughed, “You'll either hate or love the fame that comes from this.”

“Well, if its paparazzi and press, I think I’ll hate it.”

“I can promise you right now that it’s not all paparazzi and press, we haven’t been bothered today, probably because we are on the move.”

“You shouldn’t say that, you’ll jinx it.”

“I know a lot about not jinxing it, but that’s a story for another time,” Y/N noticed that when Artemis said this her eyes glazed over and she looked upset.

“You don’t ever have to talk to me about something you’re not ready to talk about,” Y/N reassured her.

“Hey, the trauma makes me funny.”

“Two can play that game.”

They would ramble on for the rest of the walk to their college. Nothing really of substance, just getting to know each other further. She was glad she found a friend in Artemis, it would have sucked if the two of them didn’t get along, but with each word they exchanged, they had so much fun.

She even told Artemis about that time she played Katherine Howard in her school’s budget play of Six - The Musical. She was proud of the riffs she was able to do, but she didn’t talk about it often. She was never the type of brag about her achievements, no matter how amazing they were.

But Artemis and Y/N parted ways and Y/N went to her class and wrote the same, boring, scribbly and barely legible notes. She figured eventually she’d need nicer handwriting, but did she want to work on it? No.

When she finished, she saw Artemis and who she could only assume to be Wally, at Artemis’ class doors. She waved to Artemis, before Artemis called her over.

“Y/N! Hey, I would ask how class is, but this is Wally,” she gestured to the red-head boy beside her, and Y/N held out her hand to shake Wally’s.

“Hi, Wally.”

“Y/N. It’s nice to meet you since Jason can’t shut up about you and my girlfriend likes you a lot.”

“Well that's sweet of you Artemis. You’re just so in love with me,” Y/N joked.

“Girl. You know it,” Artemis joked back.

“You two already have a close bond? That’s impressive,” Wally said, “Never seen anyone win over any of my friends this quickly,” he muttered.

They joked for a little while longer, just getting to know Wally before she had to go, she had to get to Jason’s.

The walk was a while away, so she went and sat on a park bench for a minute to check her phone, Jason had texted her.

Hey baby, are you coming over?

I am, yes. I actually just met Wally.

You met Wally and I wasn’t there to see it? C’mon.

Artemis introduced us! Go yell at her.

Oh. Never mind. I won’t do that.

Ha! Scared of her?

Maybe a little, she can be scary, okay?

You can’t tell but I’m laughing at you.

Dhmu.

That’s fine, I’ll just go hang out with Alfred and not you. He seems like he would be spiteful like me.

That’s unfair.

I thought you said don’t hit me up?

Fuck.

Checkmate.

I am upset.

No you’re not.

No I’m not.

She would walk down the street further, maybe within a couple steps to reach the Manor, when a man dragged her into an alleyway. She yelped.

“Uh, hello? Can I help you?” she asked, pretending she wasn’t terrified.

“How much would Bruce give me for you?” the attacker mumbled before he tried to knock her to the ground, but she had another plan.

He grabbed her, put his face close to hers, and she head-butted him, he would stumble back, and she started running to the Manor.

“Come here you fucking bitch!” he screamed. She could feel her nose bleeding as she ran and ran, the security saw her and pulled her into the gateway before drawing their guns and urging her to run to the steps of the Manor.

And she ran. The security at the door saw her and let her in, and yelled for Alfred.

“What is this nonsense, oh,” Alfred paused when he saw the blood running out of Y/N’s nose, “Miss Y/N, what happened to you?” he asked before grabbing her hand and pulling her into the entry-way bathroom and opening a first-aid kit.

“Okay so, what happened was I was walking to the Manor because my car got towed right? And this fucking bastard dude pops out from an alleyway and pulls me into it, asks some bullshit about how much Bruce would pay for me, when he grabbed me and tried to knock me down, when I head-butted him and started running,” she said, completely unphased.

Alfred didn’t respond to her and started to stop the bleeding when Bruce called for him, “In the entry-way bathroom, Master Wayne!” he answered.

Bruce came around the corner and saw Alfred was already tending to Y/N, “Well, this is the event where I meet my son’s girlfriend, when she is bleeding and running from a strange man in an alleyway.”

“Heh, sorry,” she said and outstretched her hand to shake his, “It’s nice to finally meet you, Bruce.”

“I can tell you’re going to be quite the addition to this household,” he said as he took her hand and shook it, “As long as you’re okay.”

“I’m okay.”

“That’s good. I guess you can’t get mad at Jase for being a reckless man now.”

“I really can’t.”

“Alright, you should be good, Miss Y/N.”

“Thank you, Alfred. But you really didn’t have to.”

“I’ve been taking care of 5 boys and 3 girls since most of them were little, Miss Y/N. A little blood is really no big deal for me to handle.”

“That’s obvious.”

“You can go see the boys now, they’re going to ask you though,” Bruce said.

“I know.”

She walked to Jason’s room, hoping that he wouldn’t have all of his siblings in the room, he did though.

“Hey, Y/N- what the fuck happened to you?” Jason exclaimed when she opened the door.

“Oh great, all your siblings are here. Anyway, I guess,” she paused, taking in a big breath so she could run through the events quickly, “So I was walking here ‘cause my car got towed, right? When some fucking bastard man grabs me and yanks me into an alleyway and starts going off about how much Bruce will pay him to get me back or something,” she paused again, “And when he tried to knock me down by getting really close and personal to my face, like an idiot I should add, I head-butted him.”

“You did what?’

“I’m not done yet, met your dad when I actually had blood running out of my nose because that's just my fucking luck. Okay, now you can be disappointed in me,” she joked.

“I will say again, you did what?”

“Something stupid?” she said.

“You could say that again, my god, what went through your head?”

“Uh, nothing. Just survival. Fight or flight but I head-butted a man, and hi, everyone.”

“Hi, Y/N, I’m Dick,” Dick said, “You clearly are meant for Jason,” he joked, “That's something he would do.”

“Don’t encourage her, Dick!”

Stephanie got up and greeted her, “You know, Y/N, I always wanted a crazy sister,” she joked, “I’m Stephanie, the black-haired girl is Cass, and the red-head is Barbara.”

“Me too,” Cass hopped onto the joke.

“It’s something else when you meet the girl your brother is dating after she head-butted a man, apparently,” Y/N laughed, “I know it’s far-fetched-”

“Not really,” Tim cut her off, “You know Jason protected Will when they were attacked?”

“That’s Tim, by the way,” Dick said.

“So you can’t yell at me for head-butting a man!” Y/N joked at Jason while going to sit beside him, he slinged an arm around her shoulder and leant his head into her head.

“Well, you seem like a nice enough girl,” Barbara said, “Take away the reckless behavior, and you are lovely.”

“That is valid, to be honest. Not exactly the way you want to meet your brother’s girlfriend.”

“You think?” Jason asked, sarcastically.

“Ha ha.”

“See, she thinks I’m funny, why can’t you fucks?”

Y/N laughed and then asked Dick, who was playing RE8 at the time, staring at the photo of Donna Bentiveno, “She’s cute, isn’t she, Dick?”

“Have I been staring?”

“Let’s just say Angie is probably very pissed at you.”

“Oh! Whoops. There’s a point to this, I forgot.”

“I don’t blame you, I remember forgetting there was a point and the little bitch devil doll would attack you.”

“Language.”

“Oh no, you’re lame. Gross.”

“Excuse me?” Dick asked as the rest of the room erupted in laughter.

“Do you guys see why I like her now?” Jason asked.

“Uh no, she’s mean,” Dick said.

“You’re going to die if you don’t start paying attention, Dick,” Y/N said.

“Oh!” and he died.

“And that kids, is why we listen to the person who’s 100%’ed the game.”

------------------------------

Y/N and Jason would spend hours with his brothers and sisters until the sun started to set and they all scattered to their own rooms to  do their own things. you can’t keep a lot of kids in one room for so long.

Once everyone left, Y/N placed her hands on Jason and kissed him, she was actually able to be laid on his pillow, he was able to pin her to the bed. And they did just that. He was on top of her, using his one arm to prop himself up and using his other hand to touch her face.

Her hands found their way into his hair like they always did, she found a lot of joy in playing with his hair. Their tongues danced together, they never fought or anything, they just enjoyed each other when Jason let out a small moan and she let out a small laugh.

“Keep it in your pants, Tiger,” she joked, “You’re not fully healed.”

“You literally smashed your face into another man but I can’t moan when I kiss you?”

“Because I know you want more.”

“Hell yeah I do,” he said as he went back for more, actually using his strength to keep her to the bed, but she didn’t protest this time.

[novantinuum]

Fandom: Steven Universe

Rating: Teen Audiences (TW: language)

Words: ~3K

Summary: Lars has no idea what he was expecting the moment Steven texted him in the middle of the night to ask if he could come over, but being immediately tackled in an intense vice-grip of a hug the second he opened the door probably wasn’t it.

Set mid SUF.

I don’t think I’ve ever gotten to write Lars’ POV before this, but it was really fun! If you read this and enjoy, I’d greatly appreciate your support through reblogs here, or kudos/comments on AO3. Thank you! <3

____

Besides the quiet lull of the TV and the electric hum of the attic’s rickety old heater, all is silent in the Barriga household. The nighttime streets outside are vacant. Not a soul roams through his section of town, not even the newer Gem arrivals, who thankfully have been informed of humanity’s biologically mandated curfew by now. Sheesh, it’s about time.

After all, silence is peace. And in this day and age, in a world where the barriers between human and intergalactic politics are becoming increasingly blurred by the hour, peace is a gift.

Which is why having free time to play whatever old video games he wants in complete and total solitude at one AM is probably the single thing keeping him sane at this moment.

Lars’ fingers expertly flick at the joysticks of the controller as if by innate memory. It genuinely feels like forever since he’s been able to lose himself for hours in a solo campaign like this, and quite honestly, if given a choice he prefers it to any other leisurely activity. Chatting with his online friends or with that Gem gang of his is fun, sure, and working the counter at his bake shop can often be emotionally satisfying, but pushed too long and any kind of social interaction feels draining. He shifts on his bed, paying little to no attention to the slight chill against his bare chest. He’s pretty sure it’s like, near freezing outside and yet somehow it’s no more an annoyance to him than having to pause to reload an ammo clip in this game. It’s weird. Really weird. But then, at this point everything about his dumb life is.

It’s the Steven effect, he thinks with a soft scoff. Weird practically orbits him and his moms, and inevitably, every person he comes in contact with is brought into the fold. He’s a good kid, though. Don’t get him wrong. Steven always tries his best to be thoughtful when dealing with people he doesn’t understand— even when initially those people just act like dicks in return— and he for one is grateful for that, for the gift of a... a second chance. He knows full well he didn’t deserve it, (he still doesn’t), but he’s grateful.

The kid’s still on his mind when his phone lights up on the nightstand beside him, like the now familiar glow of Gems synchronizing to fuse.

(And goddamnit, does a part of him still balk almost two years later that it’s so normal to be casually relating everyday things to outer space Gem stuff anyways. What is he, with his pink hair and alien friends, the main character of an anime?)

Eyes skirt away from the grainy television set he’s been playing his favorite Immortal Combat on, and glance at the new notification.

Steven, the name at the top of the text reads. Well, lo and behold. The true shounen protagonist himself. Somebody’s ears must have been burning. Though, hmm. Come to think of it, that’s actually unusual. They pass bullshit memes back and forth sometimes, yes, but he never sends him anything this late at night.

Lars frowns, failing to obscure that annoying, instinctual worry that seizes him like the long lost sensation of hunger rising from the pit of his stomach, and scoots forward on his bed to grab his phone. What’s he want at this hour, anyways?

Steven: hey, sorry i know its late but can i come over ?

His frown deepens as he glances down at himself, clad in only a pair of boxers. He doesn’t mind having an unexpected visitor— after all, it’s not like he requires sleep anymore— but he’s not exactly dressed for company, here.

yeah but gimme a mo, he types back. kinda need to put on a shirt

Steven: k

Yawning out of sheer habit, he leans over the other side of the bed and grabs the first decent smelling tee he can find off the floor. It’s got an overlapping triangular emblem on it, a symbol from one of the game series he used to be obsessed with as a kid. He quickly shrugs it and a stray pair of sweatpants on, then returns to his phone.

decent now, he updates him.

The response is almost immediate.

Steven: be there soon

With a heavy inhale, he leans back against the headboard and begins to mentally prepare himself for the passage of One Whole Teenage Boy through the portal in his hair. For the most part he’s grown used to the changes caused by Steven’s literal magic resurrection, but not this. Who the hell knows how his pet lion puts up with it all the time. Quite frankly, how that creature has remained so docile and patient after years of interloping within Steven’s chaotic world of Gems eludes him, ‘cause it sure as hell isn’t a side effect of all the death-defying space voodoo.

Also, he’s like, 97% sure that “docile” and “patient” aren’t words anyone would pick to describe him at any stage of his life, ever.

And yet, yawning in his boredom, Lars waits.

And he waits.

And he waits.

And when eventually he breaks his stubborn streak and dares to check the time on his phone to see how many minutes have elapsed, how many minutes of his thrice-damned maybe infinite lifespan he’s wasted sitting up against the far wall of his room waiting for that kid to tumble right out of the literal inter-dimensional door hidden amidst the curls atop his head, he’s mildly surprised that his first emotional response to this delay is... dare he admits... disappointment.

It’s been nearly fifteen minutes. For whatever unknown reason, it seems as if Steven may not be coming over after all. Huh. He wonders what changed his mind. Pressing his lips into a thin line, Lars decides to check his texts. It’s possible the guy wrote something else and he just didn’t see it. But when he pulls up his latest conversation, all that comes up are the last messages they sent to each other. Be there soon, he said.

He hovers hesitant fingers over the keyboard, caught in the midst of trying to decide whether or not it’s too invasive and prying to send some sort of casual check-in, when he picks up on a very timid knock on the front door downstairs. And given the lateness of the hour, there’s really only one person it could be. He blinks for a moment, his mind still doing somersaults in order to process the mere concept of Steven not gleefully taking the opportunity to explode out of his hair for once in his life, and then drags himself up to his feet. Walks out of his attic room and down the stairs, being careful not to disturb his slumbering parents. Unlatches the locks on the door.

Truth be told he has no idea what he was expecting the moment Steven texted him at one fucking AM to ask if he could come over, but being immediately tackled in an intense vice-grip of a hug the second he opened the door probably wasn’t it.

He struggles not to stumble backwards at the initial force of the teen’s silent yet yearning embrace, eventually regaining his stability and... slowly, delicately... hugging him back. Honestly, he’s never been much of a hugger himself, but eh. He’ll give the guy this one. After a brief moment Lars gives him a few awkward pats, clearing his throat.

“Uh, Steven? You good to let go, now?” he asks quietly, still keeping his voice in a whisper for his parents’ benefit.

“Oh! Y-yeah, yeah,” his younger friend stammers, immediately pulling himself away. His eyes are drawn to the floor as he wrings his hands together. Timid. “Sorry, I just— I just needed somewhere I could clear my head tonight. Thank you, by the way.”

“No problem,” he throws back, gesturing for him to follow up the stairs. “‘S not like I ever sleep a wink now anyways. So I might as well have company.”

The two of them tiptoe towards the attic, a familiar setting for both. Steven’s been in here quite a few times before, so— already knowing the lay of the land— he plops himself down in the beanbag chair Lars keeps at the foot of his bed. They don’t talk about much of anything at first, merely passing back and forth brief updates about their lives. Small talk, nothing more. As expected though, Steven’s update is infinitely more interesting than his. Apparently he went on some mission to an alien planet with that Lapis friend of his the other day and had to deal with the attitude of some stubborn terraformers who didn’t want to stop working on their shitty old Homeworld assignment. (Meanwhile, the only update he has to offer is how he’s teaching Blue Lace Agate the art of bad baking puns while at work. Gotta leave behind some sort of legacy before he leaves with his fellow Off-Colors, of course.)

When the small talk finally dries up, (which seems... uncharacteristic, given the typical enthusiasm of his current visitor), Lars offers him a second controller.

“We can play the go-kart one, if you want,” he says, knowing full well that his friend isn’t a huge fan of all his war-themed combat games. Still, he figures the guy could probably stand to blow off a little steam. He looks super stressed, with his brow all creased and his stare unnervingly glassy.

The sixteen-year-old nods, adjusting his hands around the grips of the controller as Lars switches out the disk.

They race a few rounds in relative quiet, wholly insulated by the reassuring stillness of the night all around them, before Steven decides to open up again.

“Where do you think the line is?” he asks when they finish their current course.

His whole face scrunches in confusion. “Huh?”

“Between like, doing bad things, and outright being bad?” he continues, seemingly unaware of the comedic pulse of Lars’ initial response.

Lars blinks.

Considers these words deeply and thoroughly for a moment, as any good friend should.

And then...

“Where the heck did you pull that question from?”

Steven merely shrugs, his shoulders drooping a bit lower than they had been when he first entered his house a while back. “I dunno, just musing, ‘s all.”

The edges of his mouth curl downwards as he lets this corker of a conversation starter wash over him, not so much intended as a frown at Steven, but a frown at... whatever force of this universe would lead his friend to start musing about such depressing philosophical quandaries in the first place. Acting numb and brooding at the rest of the world is supposed to be his job, not this kid’s! And sure, yes, yes, yes, he knows he can’t exactly call him a kid anymore— at least not to his face— and that he’s been a teenager for a good three years now. It’s just that... well. For all his complaints about it earlier in life, Lars kinda grew to respect and feel uplifted by his cheery, upbeat, never-give-up-hope outlook. Dare he says, he kinda misses it.

(And for Steven’s sake, he kinda hoped he’d never discover the burnout and cynicism waiting on the other side. Alas, he fears that ship has probably sailed.)

“Sorry,” the sixteen-year-old mumbles upon noting his extended silence, his cheeks flushed with shame. “Probably not something anyone wants to think about at two in the morning. Just- forget I said anything, okay? Let’s play one more round, and then I can lea—“

Eyes widening, he holds up a hand to intercept that train of thought. “No, that’s— you asked an interesting question. Deep, but interesting. It’s fine, I don’t mind. I...”

He inhales deep, collecting his wits and whatever years of wisdom he may or may not have accumulated ever since dying and coming back to life.

“I suppose in my mind, people aren’t truly bad unless they intend to cause harm, y’know?” he begins, meeting Steven’s eyes. “You can still hurt others without meaning it, and like... that’s still not great, and you should still try and make up for it however you can, but... life’s complicated. People are complicated. It’s all a huge mess of emotions and ethics and beliefs all the time.”

He pauses, a twinge of melancholy rising within his chest as he catches a glimpse of a photograph hung on one of the wooden support beams at the far wall. It’s a selfie of him and Sadie he printed out a few years back when they were still low-key dating, one that— for the life of him— he can’t bear to take down. She’s kissing his cheek. He’s caught in the middle of laughter, playfully trying to nudge her away. They look... so young.

So naive.

(So human.)

“And sometimes it can be so, so easy to convince yourself that you’re always in the right,” he continues, quieter, “that people feeling hurt because of something you did is just their problem. In that case, it’s not that you wanted to harm anyone, it’s just... that you were blind to it, I guess.”

(And he was blind for a long, long time.)

“Like I said, it’s messy.”

Lars sighs, willfully averting his glance from the photographic reminder of all the ways he ignorantly fucked up with Sadie as a friend and partner, and with everyone in his life, making the same stupid mistakes over and over with nearly no improvement until he literally died to his old self.

“So, yeah. There. I guess that’s my opinion,” he mumbles, absentmindedly fiddling with the collar of his graphic tee. “Everyone makes bad choices sometimes, but you’re not actually a bad person unless you literally want to harm others. I don’t think people are bad once and bad forever, though,” he adds, pulling his hand away from his shirt.

Inhaling deep, he splays his palm wide, admiring those same old loops and whorls at the tips of his fingers, identical in every detail to his old, living, human self... but now pink. It's haunting, sometimes.

“People can change, y’know? If they make the effort to.”

When he finally glances back at Steven, he seems thoroughly spaced out by all his impassioned rambling, his gaze walleyed and void of any identifiable emotion. He scowls, unsure whether or not he should feel offended, and gives an exaggerated shrug to defuse the sickeningly earnest atmosphere out of this room.

“But hey, I’m biased,” he mutters, letting that instinctual, age-old self-depreciation coat his tone once more. “For all I know, everything I said could be absolute bunk, and I’m still just an asshole.”

“I don’t think you’re an asshole, Lars,” Steven finally speaks up, his expression still perplexingly unreadable.

“I—“ His eyes blow wider, the sheer frankness of this comment catching him entirely off guard, overturning all of his once-impenetrable defenses. “...Thank you. I’m trying not to be.”

The conversation doesn’t advance any further from there, both parties content to fade back into the understated comfort of silent companionship. They play a few more rounds of their racing game, Lars beating Steven handily each time. (Truth be told, he’s not confident he’s bringing his A-game, though.) Then, sometime around three AM, his friend drags himself out of the beanbag chair and announces that he should probably head home and get some rest. Apparently he’s got a lot of planning to do for Little Homeschool's graduation ceremony that’s happening in a few days, or whatever. Which, is fair. Not everyone is blessed enough to be a sleepless zombie like him.

“Y’know, it’s been nice, getting to hang out, just us,” Steven says— quiet, but genuine— as Lars leads him back down the stairs. “We should do this more often.”

Purposefully, given the unusual emotional atmosphere of this whole visit, he decides not to mention the fact that he's planning to leave Earth again when his all Gem friends finally graduate. Later, he thinks, when everyone's in a better place.

“Well, if you’re ever bored, you know where to reach me,” he replies as they reach the bottom step, fondly rolling his eyes. “The good ol’ inter-hair-mensional express. Just, y’know— text me. And not during work hours.”

The teen gives his thanks once again, and then exits out the front, making sure to be extra gentle shutting the door on his way out for his parents’ sake. Huh. Seems that even when he’s (seemingly) in a funk, he’s capable of being uber courteous like that. Goodness, how does he do it?

Lars stands motionless at the entryway for a few moments after he’s gone, staring blankly at the now empty space the sixteen-year-old just occupied. His brow furrows, his fingers curling in perplexion at his side. He doesn’t have enough insight into Steven’s inner life to claim anything for sure, but he can’t help but feel like something with that boy was... off, tonight. Like, beyond your standard teenage moodiness. His demeanor, his bizarre and specific question, his relative silence... it all seems to be pointing towards something, lurking in the background. Still, there’s little he can do for a person who’s not volunteering information. And it ain’t his job to drag it out of him, either. He always hated when his parents tried to do that when he was younger, and it almost ruined their relationship entirely. That’s the last sorta scenario he’d want to force upon Steven. He’ll open up when he’s ready, in the end.

And until then... well.

He just hopes that the kid knows that— beyond the bizarre magic portal in that pink lion’s mane— he’s always got a brother on the other side who’s willing to at least listen. To be but a small source of support.

If he wants him to be.

[oureuphoria]

Worst of You - JJK 08

You meet him under horrible circumstances but everything feels perfect when you’re with him. Too bad you have a bitch of a best friend, anxiety and an inability to learn from your mistakes which cripples your chances to be with the man of your literal dreams. He, however, is a police officer with years worth of built-up turmoil and an inability to make attachments. Or “I’m not leaving until you tell me what’s wrong.” “Cool, I’ll let everyone know you’re moving in then.”

Genre: fluff, angst, comedy

Pairing: officer!jungkook X  collegestudent!reader

Word count: 2,304

Note: Things get sad in this chapter and :( 

| 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08 | 09 | 10 | 11 | 

Jungkook was confused. He was confused about how you had gotten in, who you were with and more importantly, why you were here when this seemed to be the last place you’d want to be. In spite of his confusion Jungkook knew that to his knowledge you were still 20 and definitely underage, so it was his legal obligation to check up on you. It was definitely not because he wanted to talk to you, just following procedure.

“What are you doing here?” You hadn’t noticed Jungkook sit next to you until he spoke but you refused to spare him a glance. You were worried that was all it would take, one look at his wide brown eyes that seemingly held the universe and you’d be putty in his hands. “None of your business.“ “When you’re underage it is.” “It’s my birthday, officer.” You threw your ID card to him which he checked meticulously. You snatched the card out of his hands after he’d had a good look and hopped off the stool. 

“If you don’t mind, I have to go back to Jimin.” Just as you are about to walk away from him, Jungkook lightly grabs your hand. “Wait.” You turned back around to face him but expertly avoided his eyes. “I’m sorry.” It wasn’t much but it was all Jungkook could fathom and yet both of you knew, it wasn’t enough. You gave him a small smile before you replied, one that seemed more sad than polite. “Yeah, me too.” And with that, you walked away, shoving Jungkook and his ridiculously beautiful face to the back of your mind.

“Jimin!” You had finally found your friend who hadn’t been even half as happy to see you as you were him. “Y/N, I know it’s your birthday and I promised I’d be with you but the most gorgeous boy is here and I really need a hook-up. If you’re not okay with it I understand but-” “Go! At least one of us has to get lucky tonight.” You waved him off and he retaliated with a bone-crushing hug. “I love you so much. I promise I’ll make it up to you.” Whether that promise was empty or not, you were going to hold him to it because letting him abandon you in this club all alone is definitely a sizeable sacrifice. 

You walked back to the bar where you were relieved to see that Jungkook had left. Against your better judgement, your eyes subconsciously scanned around for him and when you saw him, dancing and having the time of his life while you were there following in self-pity, you realised you definitely needed another drink. 

Perhaps it was your lack of experience or your Jungkook-induced sadness or even your empty stomach but you were drunk. Only 2 drinks in and you had completely lost all sense of rationality. Unfortunately, the bartender was unaware of just how much of a lightweight you were and proceeded to provide you with the tequila shots you weren’t sure why you asked for. 

They tasted horrible and after downing two, you realised you never wanted to drink one again but for the first time in a long time, you had felt entirely carefree. It was nice, for the blissful moment it lasted but when your eyes had landed on Jungkook again, this time sitting at a bar next to some girl who was definitely prettier than you, carefree had turned into careless and you were making your way over there before you could process it. 

“Hi, I’m sorry but I really need to speak to him.” Giving the poor girl no time to reply, you had dragged Jungkook towards the end of the bar where there were far less people and the music was softer. “You, sir, are an asshole.” In between your words, you had made the honourable decision to jab Jungkook in the chest continuously. Drunk you believed you were emphasising your point, sober you would’ve cowered at the mere mention of such an action. 

“Are you drunk, Y/N? Where’s your friend?” “He left me for someone prettier, everyone keeps doing that to me these days…” You pouted as you strayed completely off topic and tears began welling in your eyes. You were an emotional drunk, you found that out the hard way. “I’m taking you home.” “No! I still haven’t finished.” Jungkook sighed in frustration and motioned for you to continue, the girl at the bar was long forgotten and Jungkook didn’t even care. 

“Why are you such a liar?” The waterworks had begun and while it was obvious you weren’t entirely competent, Jungkook felt the sting in his heart all the same. “Please, baby don’t cry.” “Don’t call me that. Stop making me think you care when you clearly don’t and next time grow the balls to say you don’t like me you jerk!” Your words were slurred and your delivery was a little off but Jungkook heard you loud and clear. He wanted to explain, he wanted to wipe your tears away and reassure you that he was enamoured by you, he adored you and wanted nothing more than to be by your side. But you were probably too drunk to remember and it was too late to try. 

“I’m sorry, just stop crying, please.” You tried and you weren’t sure why. The pain in Jungkook’s voice had hurt you and even while drunk, you’d do anything to make that pain go away. So you stifled your tears to the best of your ability, the only thing left behind were tear stains and your quiet hiccups. “Good job, now let me take you home.”

Jungkook didn’t expect you to fall asleep in his car, but then again he also didn’t expect you to berate him at a club. “Y/N, baby, wake up.” You were a light sleeper, he knew that much, which was why he was shaking you softly. You fidgeted in his seat a little before opening your eyes ever so slightly. “I’m sleeping, go away.” Drunk, sleepy Y/N was a challenge Jungkook didn’t know how to face. He also didn’t know how he was going to get you inside or whether or not you had your keys and going through your bag felt like a violation of your privacy so Jungkook decided to take you to his apartment instead.

When you woke up the next morning, something felt off. Your bed was never silk and you never remembered it being this big. You flailed your hand around for your plushie and when you had opened your eyes, you jolted upright in shock. That action was instantly regretful because of the pounding headache you had suddenly gotten and your wincing had captured Jungkook’s attention. 

He was dressed in grey sweatpants and a tight grey t-shirt that left scarcely anything to the imagination. If you weren’t dying from a migraine you might’ve appreciated the view but all you could think about was this numbing pain. “There’s aspirin on the table and a glass of water.” You nodded, reaching for your knight in shining armour as you consumed the medication. 

“Do you remember anything?” You remembered everything but you wanted to spare yourself the shame so you kept silent. “I tried to take you to your apartment but you fell asleep so I-” “I understand. Thank you, I hope I didn’t cause too much of an inconvenience.” You had began wandering around the room, collecting your belongings so you could leave as quickly as possible but Jungkook didn’t want that. “Y/N, slow down. I’ll give you something to change into, that dress can’t be comfortable.” He was right, it wasn’t. But neither was this predicament and every second you spent there was a second spent remembering the night you’d rather forget. You never drinking, ever again. 

Jungkook had come back from raiding his closet with a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt. “You can change in the bathroom. Come down and eat breakfast and then I promise I’ll take you home.” “I don’t need to eat.” You shook your head, even tried rejecting the clothing but Jungkook had dropped it into your arms. “Unless you want to puke for 3 hours I suggest you get changed and come down to eat.” You rolled your eyes but complied nonetheless. 

You looked up at your reflection and you were a mess, your makeup was inconsistent, you were assuming it was because of the tears. Luckily, you didn’t wear mascara and after washing your face and tying up your hair, you started to look like yourself again. Jungkook’s clothing, which seemed to engulf your figure, had smelt nice and felt soft. You didn’t want to get used to it so you pushed those thoughts to the back of your mind and left the room. 

You could see the stairs clearly from where you were standing so finding the kitchen was straightforward enough. Jungkook was seated on the island, phone in hand with two plates of what looked like omelettes. Jungkook had looked up at the soft patter of your feet and smiled. “You look good in my clothes.” You mumbled a quiet thank you and hopped onto the high chair that was surprisingly comfortable. “You want coffee?” You shook your head and poked around your omelette, you were never a big fan of eggs but you’d never complain. 

“Fuck Y/N, I can’t take this, please talk to me.” You wanted to but you’d already said all you wanted to say yesterday (rather harshly) and you didn’t feel like repeating yourself. “There’s nothing to talk about.” He sighed and got up to pour himself a cup of coffee, when he had returned, you had already eaten a third of your omelette. “Can we go now?” “Can you listen to my explanation first?” You nodded timidly, you wanted an explanation desperately but you were also scared of the truth. That he didn’t like you and never did. 

“My first ever love was in high school. She was my senior, I was a year younger and infinitely less experienced, but that didn’t stop me.” You both laughed, knowing that Jungkook was stubborn when he wanted to be. “She was beautiful, the kind of beautiful that took time to truly process, she was smart, book smart at least and she was kind to everyone, even when they didn’t deserve it. We dated for just over a year, it was nearing my graduation when she passed away. Car accident, drunk driver. Instead of getting the justice she deserved, her parents who barely had a dollar to their name were forced to settle for the equivalent of a used Toyota. The girl who hit her was old money rich, her family had connections with the best defence attorneys in the world. The lawyers she hired, put a price on a person I loved, they tried to tell me how much her life was worth and it wasn’t generous.”

Jungkook wasn’t crying, but you were. You knew the world was cruel but growing up in a middle-income family in a peaceful neighbourhood truly shielded you from a lot of life’s challenging aspects and knowing this had happened to a girl, just like you, really shattered your heart. You felt even worse trying to imagine how Jungkook had felt and how horrible the situation was in general. “I pursued law enforcement for her. She’s the reason I’m where I am today. I’m not asking for your pity, or excusing my actions but I want you to understand. Every time I start falling in love with someone, I pull away because no matter how tough I look, I can’t deal with loss.”

“I thought pushing you away would protect myself and that was incredibly selfish, and I’m sorry. I thought that I could do this, that’s why I confessed but the moment I was alone with my thoughts again, I realised I couldn’t. But for you, I’m willing to try. I’ll put everything I have into this, all I ask is that you forgive me for the colossal asshole I’ve been lately.” Jungkook held your hands in his and you giggled through the tears after he’d insulted himself and Jungkook felt his heart swell at you. 

“Alright but from now on, just give me the worst of you and we’ll deal with it together.” “Deal.” Jungkook inched closer to you, his hands cupped your face as he wiped the remnants of your tears. With your faces barely a centimetre apart, you could really see the pain in his eyes and all you wanted to do was kiss it away. So you did. Dragging his head down by his neck, you gave Jungkook a soft kiss on the lip that barely lasted a second but he needed more. 

Jungkook had opted to rest one of his hands on the back of your stool, the other on your cheek as he kissed you deeper. “I’m sorry I ruined your birthday.” Jungkook whispered out in-between kisses. “Nap with me and I’ll forgive you.” Jungkook chuckled before placing one last peck on your lips. He wrapped your legs around his torso and lifted you up smoothly. You squealed in shock but Jungkook ignored it, his mind solely on getting you back in his bed. You really did nap, and you enjoyed it quite a bit, after all his arms were the comfiest pillow.

[lostincalum]

Uni! Ben Hardy

Authors note: Yes hi it me, I’m trying something new after I developed a crush.. again. I hope people like this or that if you didn’t you could leave some constructive criticism. This is an AU

Word count: 2130

TW: some swearwords as well as insomnia mention

You first met Ben at the university library, it had been filled to the brim with students trying to get the last bit of cramming in before finals started.

Ben had found a corner in the back of the library which was less populated, sheltered by big shelves of books. It was your usual spot, and no one had ever seemed to be there, at least not at the same time as you. Just as you turned around the last shelf, you saw someone sitting at the table, with room for only two. His back was turned to you, so at least he hadn’t taken the chair you usually sat in. His broad back was covered in a grey hoodie and you could see the blond tufts of hair sticking up from every direction, probably from running his hands through his hair so many times. 

Seeing him made you stop dead in your tracks as you cocked your head to the side in confusion. It took you a second to gather yourself, but you just turned up the music in your headphones and went to sit down in front of him, refusing to back down. You slung your backpack from your shoulder and down to the floor as you took a seat. It made him look up from his computer and notebook as you made yourself comfortable. You felt his intense gaze on you as you pulled your notebook, one of your astrophysics books out as well as your laptop. 

You had seen his face around campus, but you had no idea what his actual name was. So instead of asking, you just tried to get to work after giving him a soft smile. He was not letting you though.

“Look, no offence, but I was kind of hoping to get some work done? Not flirt.” 

He said with a tiny little smirk, and a cocky tone. You could barely hear him over the music in your headset. So you moved one to the side and gave him a chance to correct himself. Because although he was cute with his green eyes and tousled blonde hair, you had no time for his attitude.

“‘M sorry, didn’t quite catch that.” 

You smiled, feigning confusion. You knew damn well what he said.

“Said I don’t have time to flirt, love.” 

And he almost could have fooled you, with his confidence, but you saw a little bit of confusion on his face. 

“Look, no offence..”

You gave him a questioning glance as you waited for his name.

“Ben.”

He answered, not hiding his confusion anymore. So much so, that his own name sounded like a question. He also looked a little bit disappointed, as if he had expected you to know his name. 

“No offence Ben, but I was kind of hoping to get this astrophysics work done before my final, so I don’t fail, therefore, no, I’m not flirting, I’m merely being polite by smiling at you. So be my guest and study ‘cause that’s what I’m going to do.”

You looked to your book and started reading some complicated formula whilst pulling your earphone back to your where it belongs. Not bothering to look up at Ben's flabbergasted face. 

The both of you sat in silence for a while, studying, Ben seemingly having accepted the fact that not every girl was gonna fall face first for him at first glance. It lasted for a good two hours until something kicked your shin softly. You looked up, only to be met with Ben’s face staring into his book. You shook your head, thinking you’d imagined the feeling until it happened a second time, and a third. Therefore you kicked off the tattered converse and pulled your legs up in the chair. Sitting with your right leg tucked behind the left one, which was propped up, exposing your knee through the rip in your jeans. It seemed to work, until you felt him kicking the actual chair. 

You looked up to see him smirking at you.

“Can I help you Ben?” 

Plastering on a big fake smile, you hoped he would notice how annoyed you are. 

“Yeah, I was wondering if you’d like to grab a coffee or something.”

His smile was more genuine than yours. You weren’t about to give in that easily though.

“Look, as I said two hours ago, I need to get through the course work before my final-”

Ben interrupted you. 

“So reading the same passage forty times is gonna help you do that?” 

You felt the heat rush to your cheeks. How the fuck had he noticed? You cocked your head to the side questioningly.

“My brain is fried after all the reading, I physically can’t anymore.”

He said a little embarrassed.

“Fine, as long as we don’t go to starbucks, that place is bound to be filled to the brim right about now.”

You surprised yourself as you agreed. The two of you packed your things up and headed out the door. There was still a bit of people in the library and you got some glances as you walked out of there with Ben. 

“By the way, I should probably tell you my name.” 

You started, but again Ben interrupted you. 

“I know who you are, Y/N.” 

He stated offhandedly while giving you a little wink.

“Really? How come?” 

Your interest genuinely piqued.

“Well, rumor has it that you’re almost better than I was in professor Atkins’ class.”

This made you turn your head as you muttered a little thanks as Ben held open the library door for you. You had never really considered the fact that the boy in front of you might study astrophysics as well. 

“Wait, you’re that Ben?” 

You said incredulously.

“Which Ben?” 

He asked back, albeit a little cockier now. 

“The one mr. Atkins won’t shut up about.” 

You grumbled back. 

“You know, he does this every year, takes the best student from the previous year and hypes them up in front of his new class to make them strive after beating them. Apparently it works.” 

He chuckled and you soon joined in, shaking your head. It sounded like your professor. Soon you noticed that you had arrived at a coffee shop you hadn’t been to yet. Again, Ben held the door for you, and again you muttered a thanks to him. He picked a table by the window, and while you sat down he asked you a question.

“What do you want to drink?” 

He asked, and it felt so natural. You tried to shake yourself out of it.

“I’ll just come with you.” 

Ben tsked at you. But he didn’t stop you as you got up to stand side by side with him as you ordered your coffees. In your case a chai latte. 

Once you’d gone back to your table and sat down, you looked at him. Like really scanned his features. His green eyes glittering like diamonds and his cheeky little smile, his cute nose and the curly hair that was still sticking up in every direction. You watched as he put half a pack of sugar into his black coffee and took a sip. 

“Why not coffee though? I feel like that’s what every uni student lives of off.”

He asked as he looked at you, but not before giving you a little wink. You sighed as you looked at him.

“Oh, I just don’t react very well to caffeine, doesn't mix all that well with insomnia.” 

You looked down at your cup, instantly regretting revealing the little secret that very few people knew about to a complete stranger. It seemed like Ben understood nevertheless. 

“I know that one, my mum has struggled with the same thing.” 

You looked up at him with a small crease between your brows. He had a soft smile on his lips, so different from the smirks you could tell he wore a lot more often. And you returned the smile. 

You sat there and talked about life for a while. That was until an older lady with a name tag that read Anne-Marie came up to your table. 

“I’m sorry darlings, but I’m afraid you have to leave, we’re closing.”

You cursed to yourself as you got up and got ready to leave, not having realised how empty the café had gotten. Once you’re outside you noticed the dark as well.

“Wanna come over to my place? I’m not finished with the discussion about the big bang you know.”

Not feeling the tiniest bit tired you just nodded as he lead you to the parking lot. The car ride was short, but you enjoyed the ride nevertheless. He parked the car and exited, and before you could exit yourself, he had jogged around the hood of his beaten up truck and opened the passenger door for you. 

“So, what do you think was out there, before the big bang?” 

He asked casually as he lead you up the stairs to his top floor flat.

“That’s the question isn’t it?” 

He nodded and looked at you, still expecting an answer. 

“I think maybe a big infinite number of things. Or maybe we all live in a simulation and the fact that we can’t figure out what was before the big bang is because the programmers of the simulation won’t allow us, or haven’t figured out themselves, or maybe they just want us to keep wondering.”

You looked down at your feet as you wandered into his flat. However you looked up in curiosity when he asked you to take off your shoes. And you complied. 

“That is quite the theory, Y/N.” 

Ben said as he looked at you, now you thought, it’s him studying you. 

“And I think I agree, even if your theory is a little crazy.” 

He guided you to the living room and you sat down on the comfy couch, just realizing that he has an angled roof with windows in it. You could barely see some stars out there. Ben seemed to note your fascination, before sitting down facing you. And you both sat there, talking about theories, both plausible and highly unlikely ones, until you could tell that Ben was getting tired. He was yawning more and more, as well as stretching. 

“You know, I should probably leave, you’re getting tired.” 

You said as he yawned for the third time in under five minutes. He glanced at the watch on his wrist, immediately shaking his head. 

“Nope, you’re staying the night.” 

He said, with a cheeky smile. 

“Ben, come on, I hardly know you.”

You said as you tried to reason with both yourself and him. 

“Fair point, I’m not gonna force you, but thinking of how sketchy it is to walk back to wherever you live, well I’d rather you not.” 

Ben explained with the most sincere expression on his face. You swore you could see a tiny blush on his face. 

The watch showed an excruciating 1 a.m. He ended up throwing you over his shoulder and carrying you to his bedroom. There was no point in fighting him, he was too strong.

When he got to his bedroom, he threw you on his bed and then went rummaging through his dresser. You could only admire his back until he turned and tossed you a pair of joggers. 

“Bathroom is the door on the other side of the hallway.” 

After you’d finished changing you reemerged in his bedroom. Finding Ben laying on his back in just joggers and boxers that were peeking up from the waistband. Fuck, was all you thought.

“Come on then, love, it’s getting cold here.”

He said as he pulled up the comforter and invited you into the bed. 

“No funny business okay?”

You said seriously as you inched closer to the bed. 

“No funny business, I promise.” 

Ben replied just as seriously. 

Finally you got into the bed, underneath his white comforter. Albeit a little closer to the edge than you would have liked. Ben seemed to notice. 

“Come on, darling I swear I won’t bite unless you ask me to.”

You gave him a dry laugh, but crawled a little closer anyway. Shocked was a bit of an understatement as he pulled you into his chest. However, you felt safe there.

“There we go.” 

He almost muttered to himself as he turned off the light on his nightstand. Not long after you heard his breath even out as you laid there, watching the stars from his bedroom roof window. You made a game for yourself that night, that was just spotting the stars and their constellations. Until you no longer did, drifting off to sleep, to the sound of Ben's steady heartbeat and breath. 

[vaguely-concerned]

I am reading the Rogue One visual guide and I’m going to ramble at you about it

Starting with Baze and Chirrut facts because nothing is more important than Baze and Chirrut

- The Guardians of the Whills believe very deeply in the Force but their cosmology doesn’t center any fight between light and dark and they believe mortal minds can ‘encompass the totality of the Force’ with the right training (seemingly even for non-Force sensitives). *thinks of a little green baby who’s going to need some help with his place in the universe one day and how reductive the light/dark side dichotomy can be* good to know good to know. yes everything eventually comes down to baby yoda and his poor stressed out dad. protect them

- “Opposites in balance. Chirrut Îmwe and Baze Malbus share a homeworld and a history, although they strike a compelling contrast. Baze is a hardened pragmatist, while Chirrut’s faith flourishes even in trying times. They both claim to act as the protector of the other.” 

in every way they are #goals. bffs/partners to lovers is Everything. ‘They both claim to act as the protector of the other’ is very funny and very sweet and very true; my favourite thing

- this book describes chirrut as baze’s ‘best friend and moral compass’, which is a funny way of spelling ‘husband of 30 years’ but who am I to criticize 

- baze is just. he’s so good. they say here pragmatism is his biggest trait but you can tell how much love has been at the center of him (and probably continues to be under it all) from the totality of his rage. I don’t think you can be this deeply hurt without loving just as deeply first. (like chirrut says, he used to believe more than anyone and now he’s thrown aside literally everything about the guardians except chirrut) it’s like he’s suffered a moral wound just seeing what’s happened to his home and it won’t heal and it never does, he just loses chirrut too and then at least it’s over. jesus christ it’s so soul crushingly sad in a quiet undramatic way 

- “Though both are Guardians of the Whills, Baze and Chirrut could not be more different in their approach to combat. Traditionalist Chirrut still carries weapons associated with the ancient order, while Baze adopts an implement of modern warfare. Their methods suit them individually, and both are effective extensions of their distinctive personalities. Though Baze may chide Chirrut for his antiques, and Chirrut may decry Baze’s reliance on soulless tools, they trust each other’s defences to such weapons.”

THEY TRUST EACH OTHER’S DEFENCES TO SUCH WEAPONS. YOU HAD TO WORD IT LIKE THAT HUH. YOU HAD TO GO AND MAKE IT CLEAR THEY’RE EACH OTHER’S MOST IMPORTANT THING IN THE WHOLE WORLD. WHAT. THE FUCK

- it’s implied baze’s hair used to be shorter when he was a Guardian! he’s just let it grow past what’s customary for them (and an excellent choice too his hair is wonderful)

- his repeating blaster is described as ‘modified and highly illegal’ hahaha

it also weighs 30 kg and is meant to be mounted on a tank

baze is the best

- chirrut built his own lightbow! apparently used to be a thing the guardians did to symbolize the end of their training. I wonder if baze used to have one too? even more I wonder if they’ve always been part of the same uh ‘divisions’ or what have you within the guardians, because I think there are some implications that baze has been more of an assassin/focused on violent conflicts even before the empire came and chirrut hasn’t

- this book does not adequately capture chirrut’s trickster/funny side, making me wonder how much of that was an addition by the actor and how much was planned out

- honestly... more baze & chirrut (well baze/chirrut let’s not play here) prequel books WHEN. what does their living room look like (because we do know they live together) how did they meet, when exactly did baze lose his faith and chirrut his sight, what was their first kiss like 

inquiring minds want to know (it’s me I want to know) 

- unless the wording is deliberately misleading here chirrut was not born blind (though he won’t discuss how he ended up this way) and he’s learned his current fighting technique over a prolonged period of time 

- bodhi is a bit of a gambling addict! and specifically one who’s pretty good at it; even after the empire knows he’s a defector he gets past their restrictions because he’s saved up all the credits/favours/even id-vouchers he’s owed by other imperial grunts fsdhfksdjf precious I love him 

- saw gerrera’s medical droid a) has been modified so its programming won’t stop it from being able to dispense drugs at dangerous intervals, b) professes sheer bafflement that saw is still alive and c) is ‘frequently deactivated to prevent it from building an ethical case to discontinue treatment’. I find the whole thing darkly hilarious.  

- there are literally whole subplots going on in the crowd scenes on Jedha about a mad evil surgeon who ‘decraniates’ people (essentially turning them into mindless servile husks with all of their head above the nose cut off, somehow), a masked cop from the Milvayne Authority who’s gone rogue to do the right thing and hunt him down against orders, a death cult, a bunch of different religious sects, a translation droid who has befriended a group of local orphans and shares his credits with them so they can eat and he’s SAVING UP FOR A PROCESSOR UPGRADE SO HE CAN BEGIN TO UNDERSTAND THE NATURE OF SPIRITUALITY ;_____; what the fuck I want a tv-series about this droid IMMEDIATELY 

- this book shows you just how crucial K-2 is as an asset and what a masterstroke cassian’s reprogramming of him is... and it says some very, very sweet things about cassian as a person under all the trauma and spy stuff that he essentially treats him as his best friend instead of a tool. cASSIAN he deserved to survive and have SO much therapy ;_____; ah well at least we’re getting a prequel series about him right? pls be good

- oh cassian was a proper separatist during the clone wars! he probably has some very interesting points of view about the republic pre- and post empire huh (this is what I love about the clone wars era; they have built SUCH a believable and interesting political world here, all shades of grey. there were separatists with very valid points even thought they were lead by a guy named COUNT DOOKU played by CHRISTOPHER LEE, the first sign that you should look inwards and ask yourself... wait are we the bad guys)

- it’s so much more understandable to me now who in the rebel leadership is for following jyn’s plan and who is not. (namely: the ministers of finance and industry are both Not Into challenging the empire directly, kind of understandably)

in depth description of weapons technology... I sleep. deep dives into the political structure of the alliance leadership and their backgrounds and motivations? I have never been happier

(this. sort of should have been in the actual movie tho things would have made more sense)

- BAIL ORGANA Leia’s actual dad out there lookin’ fiiine, being righteous and good, almost making me forget he’s going to die SO SOON oh fuck :( 

- orson krennic is, presumably straight faced, described as ‘a cruel but brilliant man’ which is PATENTLY LUDICROUS because krennic is by literally every indication a fucking idiot, he needs galen to do all the real work for him, he mouths off to DARTH VADER and then tarkin just effortlessly swoops in and fucks him over in the end, easily outmaneuvering him... orson krennic is a fucking loser I don’t care if he’s the one who introduced brutalist architecture to coruscant

lol lol lol *arrow pointing towards krennic’s head* ‘Keen mind dissects architectural puzzles and conspiratorial plots’ okay I see what happened here orson krennic wrote this book 

- oh galen erso is kind of one of the most interesting and heartbreaking characters in all of star wars. (and I do not say this just because of mads mikkelsen’s cheek bones) he’s incredibly intelligent but from a really poor family and wanted to eliminate the difference between rich and poor and invent a new form of infinitely renewable energy... and technically he did achieve that, except his old college buddy orson krennic immediately found a way to use his technology for genocide and he didn’t realize until it was too late :’) there is something so comforting in the fact that in the end galen still got the last laugh in the most epic but unsung way. he’s the sort of quiet Magnificent Bastard who doesn’t even care he’ll never get the credit as long as it worked. u did good on that one jyn

also several of the scientists galen is leading on eadu are in the same category as him -- captured and forced to work for the empire. so that’s great and not at all upsetting 

- galen and lyra’s falling in love story is kind of sweet (though naturally it pales against baze and chirrut’s whole deal but then who could compare) and the sheer effort and detail that’s gone into building the farmstead in the beginning we end up seeing for 5 minutes... dude (it feels very convincingly like somewhere a family would live though) 

- *sees that ‘databook’ is a concept that exists apparently; groans in fic research I thought ‘holodisc’ might do the job but maybe this is a better fit*

- I will say that my largest gripe with this movie is how glaringly unnecessarily male it is. there’s literally no reason for most of the rebels and ESPECIALLY all of the scientists to be male but here we are. 

well the stormtroopers could all canonically be any gender behind the armor so uh that’s. something lol

- despite being all desert-y jedha is apparently quite cool! temperature-wise I mean though the huge ancient statues lying everywhere are pretty awesome too

- wow stormtrooper armor really does just suck huh. it’s like ‘well it might protect you from a blaster bolt if you stand upwind and angle yourself just right, who knows’. I guess this is why everyone and their grandmothers are drooling over mando’s beskar lol

- star wars’ insistence on sticking to single-biome planets is so silly and I love it. stick to that incomprehensible world building decision lucasfilm I respect you

- mon mothma! basically the most important character in the star wars universe who most people won’t know about lol she’s like the anti-palps. for the most part she is one of the most Big Goods in all of star wars (along with bail) but also she’s played by the actress who voices moira in overwatch so I do instinctively distrust her whenever I hear her talk haha. called palpatine a ‘lying executioner’ to his face which is both admirably bold and remarkably restrained, considering all the things palpatine is.

- oof the two people mentioned the most on anakin/vader’s pages are palpatine and obi wan. that’s. hurtful and bad and awful. the greatest trick the devil ever pulled was making me watch ‘clone wars’ because watching ‘clone wars’ actually made me care about anakin skywalker :(

-ah shit this is a lot of pages about pasty empire dudes i’ll uh come back to these lol

[zoemurph]

to have a friend, chapter three: $60

on ao3 1 | 2

remember when i said i was doing nano? yeah so one day out of frustration i changed my nano novel to this so. *jazz hands*

side note: their town/school is ENTIRELY based on my own. i straight up just dropped them into my high school. therefore there is quite a bit of complaining but mostly thats about cafeteria food being shit and we all know it really is

warnings: discussions of mental health, anxiety, anxiety/panic attack, mentions of suicide/suicidal thoughts

Connor meets Evan by Evan’s locker. It was easier to find than Connor’s, who couldn’t even tell Evan the number when asked, and more secluded than most. Slipped into what people not so fondly called the “secret hallway” near the library, Evan’s locker is one of the few in this section of the school and he’s one of the few students who even uses his locker. He only uses it because he has so many textbooks, and because it’s sometimes nice to step away from the more crowded parts of the school. If he had to guess, he’d probably say that less than a third of kids in the school use their lockers.

Why spend time putting your books away when you only have five minutes to get to class? Time better spent pushing through the hallways or making out with a significant other in a corner or eating a snack really quickly because your next teacher has a strict no food policy and once taped a banana to the whiteboard when someone tried to eat it in class.

The hallway has a strange assortment of classrooms. A lost english room, with its windows covered in posters and playbills and pictures and quotes, multiple rooms for computer and technology classes, and the math room of the one teacher that everyone dreads because he is too smart to be teaching high school. Evan had had him sophomore year for geometry and even though Alana Beck had somehow gotten him through it, his hands still sweat when he thinks about going back there.

He’s unlocking his locker when Connor appears next to him, seemingly out of nowhere. Evan almost drops the english book he’s holding and has to start his combination over after messing up.

“You lock your locker?” Connor asks, raising an eyebrow.

Evan huffs as he resets the lock. “Y-yeah. Just…better to be safe. I don’t know.”

“New question.” Connor leans against the locker next to Evan’s. “You use your locker?”

Evan rolls his eyes. “You already judged me for this.”

“That I did,” Connor agrees. “I’m not done judging you though. Fuck lockers, who needs them?”

“M-me?”

Connor scoffs. “Sure. Suffer with the rest of us, Hansen. We’re supposed to leave high school with fucked up backs.”

Evan puts away his textbook before he turns to look at Connor. “Do you even carry books around?”

Connor whistles lowly. “You’ve got a bite this morning.”

Evan shakes his head and puts his backpack on the ground, pulling out a binder he won’t need until after lunch and putting it on the floor of his locker.

“And you’ve caught me,” Connor admits. “I’m never prepared for class.” He flicks a bill into Evan’s locker. It lands on Evan’s binder and Evan stuffs it into his pocket quickly. He shoots a glare at Connor. It’d be nice if Connor were a little more discreet.

The two of them had straightened out their stories the other day at Evan’s. Connor had decided Mondays would be the best day for him to pay Evan because it would force him to show up to school for at least the beginning of the week and it would be harder to forget Mondays. They also established when they started talking, basic likes and dislikes about the other, and the fact that the way that Connor eats pizza is weird. Who starts with the crust?

Connor only stayed a few hours and then walked back home in the dark (Evan definitely didn’t make him text him when he got home to say he was safe) but somehow those few hours made Evan feel infinitely more comfortable around Connor Murphy. Probably a good thing because they’re playing at being best friends.

Evan has gotten enough weird looks and questions about the ‘Connor’ scrawled across his cast without the two of them being awkward and uncomfortable around each other.

They just have to fool…everyone.

Easy enough.

“You good?” Connor asks.

Evan glances up at him. “Yeah I’m— it’s all good.” He grabs a random book and shuts his locker. He glances at the textbook as he pulls his backpack on his shoulders. AP Environmental Science. He doesn’t have that class until the end of the day, but now he’s stuck carrying it around until he gets another chance to stop at his locker because there is no way in hell he’s opening his locker after just shutting it.

“Where are you headed?” Connor asks, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

“English.” Evan gestures toward the stairwell. “So I’m— I’ll go this way. You?”

Connor scrunches up his nose. “Chorus. But I’ll come with you, I have to go down anyway.” He pulls open the door to the stairwell for Evan.

“You s-sing?” Evan asks as he passes Connor.

Connor laughs. His voice echoes in the stairwell. “Fuck no. But I needed an arts class and this was as lazy as I could get. I sit in the back and don’t pay attention.”

“What are you?” Evan moves closer to the railing as two kids rush past them up the stairs.

“Uh…human?”

Evan frowns and looks back at Connor. “What? No that’s— I meant vocal part.”

Connor blinks. “Oh. Tenor, I think. I just move my mouth and pretend.”

Evan shakes his head and opens the door at the bottom of the stairs. “You know that people can tell if you aren’t singing, if you’re just lip syncing. They used to tell us that all the time in middle school— that and the fact that just saying watermelon softly doesn’t work.”

Connor shrugs and stuffs his hands in his pockets. “I just need to pass.” He stands at the edge of the next set of stairs. He has to go down another flight to the music wing, Evan has to keep walking straight. “I’ll see you… Whatever, I’ll see you.”

Evan nods. “See you,” he mumbles as Connor descends down the stairs, pushing through a group of students blocking the way.

Evan takes a deep breath and turns away. One morning down.

Who knows how many more to go.

—«·»—

Between second and third period, Zoe corners Evan by nurse’s office. He was just trying to stop by his locker before calculus, but now he doesn’t think he’s going to get the opportunity.

“You’re friends with my brother,” she says.

Evan blinks at her. “Y-yeah we’re— Connor and I are friends, we’re friends, yeah. Why?”

Zoe frowns and her eyebrows draw together, making her forehead crease. “Why did I never see you two around school together before…” She motions to Evan’s cast.

Evan grabs his cast with his other hand. “Because—” They talked about this the other night but now Evan’s words are getting caught in the back of his throat. “Connor— he didn’t want us hanging out together. At school. Just at school.”

“Why not?” Zoe asks sharply. Evan steps back. “Because he’s embarrassed of you and is a bad friend?”

“N-no?”

“Why did you go along with it?” she presses on. “Are you scared of him?”

“No? I just— I respect his boundaries?” Evan picks at his cast. “I don’t— I-I was fine with it. He didn’t— there was no pressuring or anything that like it was just something that he asked and I was fine with it I didn’t mind.”

Zoe searches his face like she’s trying to find some secret code in it and Evan tries not to collapse under her scrutiny.

The warning bell rings.

“Okay,” Zoe says shortly. “Okay.” She turns on her heel and starts walking toward the band room. “I’ll talk to you later, Evan,” she says over her shoulder.

And Evan dreads it.

—«·»—

Evan glances to Connor as he passes him in the hallway. Connor lifts his hand to acknowledge Evan. Evan forces a smile.

Smiling at other people in the hallway instead of just looking at the ground. He can do that.

Jared squints at Connor. Evan doesn’t even bother wondering when Jared caught up to him, Jared just appears sometimes. “Since when do you and the rejected emo talk?” He pokes Evan’s cast. “We both know you don’t have friends, I thought this was a fucking joke.”

Evan winces. “It’s nothing.”

Jared doesn’t look entirely convinced, but he shrugs and moves on. For now. They really need to get Jared in on the lie before Jared somehow tells the entire universe and everything goes to hell. “Whatever, acorn.” Jared points to Evan. “Insurance?”

“Yeah, whatever.” Evan stops at his locker and grabs the lock.

“Nice. I’ll be— oh, hey. Alana.”

Evan glances over his shoulder to see Alana standing next to Jared, stack of textbooks in hand.

“Evan!” Alana exclaims. “You’re friends with Connor, right?”

Jared raises an eyebrow.

Evan swallows. “Y-yeah? Why do— what’s up?”

“Oh well, Connor doesn’t seem to like talking about his personal life with people and I was wondering how he’s doing.” She adjusts the books in her arms.

“He’s— he’s fine,” Evan stutters.

Jared rolls his eyes.

Evan quickly turns back to his locker and starts stuffing books inside.

“Do you think you could get him to talk to me about it?” Alana asks.

“No?” Evan doesn’t really know what’s happening, but he knows there’s no way in hell he could get Connor to talk to Alana about this stuff. Or any stuff. He probably can’t get Connor to do anything. “W-why?”

Alana takes a breath and Jared makes a face.

“Well I was just thinking that his story might be good for other people, specifically students, to hear,” she explains. “There’s such a heavy stigma around mental health and I’m sure other people are struggling like he has. I think that it’s really important for people to hear these personal stories so they know they’re not alone.”

Evan shifts uncomfortably. He glances to Jared, who shrugs. “I… I don’t…think he’d really, um, want to do that,” Evan says slowly.

Alana’s face falls. “Oh.”

“I-it’s a great idea!” Evan adds quickly. “I— That sounds like a really great idea! I just— Connor’s a pretty private person and I don’t— that might not be something he wants everyone to know about. Or know…more about.”

Alana purses her lips. “I see. I’ll have to ask him myself,” she says. “Thank you, Evan!” she calls out as she hurries down the hall.

Evan stares at her as she steps into the crowd.

That was not the outcome he wanted.

“Smooth,” Jared mutters. “Don’t know what the fuck is happening, but I know that you just dug yourself into a nice big hole.   

Evan grimaces. “Come on, Jared.”

Jared pats Evan’s shoulder. “Good luck. You’re going to need it, ‘cause I think you just got moved to the top of Murphy’s hit list.”

Evan wants to melt into the floor and die.

Connor drops down into the seat next to Evan. “Hey.”

Evan looks up from his sandwich in surprise. “Oh, you— you have this lunch?”

Connor shrugs. “Don’t usually come to it, but I didn’t eat breakfast today.” He puts down the lunch tray and pokes at the mixed vegetables with a fork. “This looks nasty.”

Evan looks to his own lunch. A chicken patty that looks…unappetizing. “I didn’t even think about lunches, honestly.”

“Fucking rotating schedules,” Connor mutters. He stabs a carrot with his fork and tries it. He makes a face.

“Not good?” Evan asks. He picks up his chicken patty.

“It’s really mushy,” Connor says after a moment. “It’s disgusting.”

Evan takes a bite of his sandwich.

“How do people think this is food?” Connor looks to the main part of his meal, a really sad excuse for spaghetti. “I changed my mind, maybe I’ll just starve to death.”

Evan chews slowly. “At least it’s not freeze burned hot dog,” he says once he’s swallowed. “That happened to Jared in second grade.”

Connor gags. “Okay, yeah. I hate this place.”

Evan gives him an amused look. “When was the last time you actually came to lunch?”

Connor squints. “I don’t know…sometime sophomore year? I don’t eat lunch like…what’s the fucking point of sitting here when I could be,” he looks around, “not surrounded by this?”

Evan follows his gaze. This is a smaller lunch, so usually Evan sits at a table by himself. Some seniors are sitting outside at the few tables that are the remains of their senior privileges. There are people crowded around tables, sitting on chairs with their lunch trays on their laps. There’s too much laughing and talking and occasional screaming. All of the tables have food from previous lunches on them, the floor is uncomfortably sticky in some places, and it smells like bad cafeteria food and too many teenagers.

“That’s fair,” Evan mumbles.    

Connor sighs and keeps eating. “The mashed potatoes aren’t bad,” he says after a moment. “Dry as fuck with no seasoning but I won’t die. The turkey is weird and possibly fake. But it’s better than my mom’s current vegan shit so.”

“Vegan?” Evan asks.

Connor nods. “She’s on a vegan health kick. Sometimes it happens. I just sneak out and get fast food if it’s bad— it’s usually bad.” He gives Evan a look. “If you get invited to dinner, don’t come it’s not worth the free food, believe me.”

Evan blinks. “Don’t invite me then.”

Connor looks at him for a moment. “Point.” He opens his milk, smells it, and then pushes the bottle away. “No. There’s no fucking way.”

“What?”

Connor picks the bottle back up again and looks at the date and then gags. “Hansen, what the fuck.”

“Is it spoiled?” Evan checks the date on his own milk. “Mine looks fine.”

“Smell this.” Connor shoves the bottle at Evan and Evan almost falls off his seat leaning away from it.

“What?! No!”

Connor narrows his eyes. He takes another careful sniff and makes a disgusted face. “I’m never skipping breakfast again.”

Evan slowly pushes his milk toward Connor. “Good plan.”

Jared crosses his arms. “So…Connor?”

Evan closes his locker. “Don’t you have class?”

“I am walking to class,” Jared says. “You just happened to be on my way.”

Evan sighs. “What about him?”

“What the fuck happened there?”

Evan weaves through the crowd. He’s not trying to lose Jared, but if he did, that would be great.

“No seriously.” Jared takes a few quick steps to get in front of Evan, spinning around to face Evan and walking backwards.

Evan ignores him. “You’re going to trip.”

“I know what I’m doing,” Jared says as he glances back over his shoulder. “But we both know you just hung out with trees all summer. How the fuck did you go from Murphy yelling at you in the hallway to being his best friend for ever and ever and ever.”

Evan grits his teeth. “I— he was yelling at you, Jared. That was your fault.”

Jared shrugs. “To-may-to, to-mah-to. Whatever. There’s definitely something going on here.” He raises his eyebrows. “Is it a sex thing?”

Evan stops walking. “Goodbye, Jared.”

“Oh my god, it’s totally a sex thing!”

“Go to class!”

 Evan actively tries to avoid Zoe the next time he sees her walking his direction, but the universe has this funny habit of doing everything it possibly can to make his life miserable.

“You’re invited to dinner,” she says, cornering him in the science wing.

“W-what?”

“Dinner,” Zoe repeats. “Mom has been on Connor’s ass about it all week but we both know he won’t ask you.” She narrows her eyes at Evan.

Evan shrinks in on himself. “Dinner dinner? Like…dinner?”

She furrows her eyebrows. “Yeah. Dinner. What are you doing tonight?”

“Nothing?” Evan mentally slaps himself. “I mean—”

“Great then you can come have dinner at ours tonight.”

Evan shakes his head. “Do you re-really think that’s a good—”

“It’s a great idea,” Zoe interrupts with a flat voice. “It can’t go wrong in any way at all.”

“Ah.” That’s incredibly comforting. He squeezes the straps of his backpack. “I-I mean I don’t want to— you shouldn’t go out of your way to—”

Zoe crosses her arms. “My mom wants you there.”

“Oh.”

“Please.” Zoe gives him a desperate look. “She just… God, she just wants to make sure you still exist. That’s all. It’s not an interrogation, it’s dinner.”

Evan glances around the hallway. “I-I guess that it’s— I mean if you really want me…to…”

“She does,” Zoe insists. “It’ll get her off of my back. And Connor’s. I think she’s still in shock from finding out that Connor has actual friends.” She flicks her eyes up and down Evan’s body. Obviously her mom isn’t the only one in shock.

This is going to be an absolute disaster. Evan’s stomach is already turning and his head hurts a bit.

“So you’re coming?” Zoe confirms.

Evan nods, because that’s all he can manage.

“Great,” she says. Evan doesn’t think either of them think that it’s great. “Here,” she grabs Evan’s good arm and pulls a pen out from the side pocket her backpack. She uncaps it with her teeth and scribbles her number on Evan’s skin. She drops his arm and puts away the pen. “If Connor refuses to give you the address because he’s being a dick, just text me. Dinner’s at like six thirty.”

Then she turns around and hurries down the hallway. She weaves between a few people before Evan loses track of her.

He stares at the number on his arm.

Shit.

Evan takes a few slow breaths like Dr. Sherman always has him practice and reaches for his phone, his hands shaking.

From: Evan To: Connor      Im s o rry      Ims soryr Zo e conretd me and inviedme ot dinner and I apnaciked nad said ey s aso now I’m goign to dinner a t yrosu tongith? ? im soryr

Evan tries not to think about dinner as he gets through his last class of the day, but he keeps seeing Zoe’s number on his skin and it makes him feel like there’s a heavy anchor on his chest. He keeps checking his phone under the desk, desperately waiting for a response from Connor. The only problem is that he’s in a practically dead zone of the school service wise, so he might not even get Connor’s text until later.

His phone vibrates in his hands three minutes before the final bell.

From: Connor To: Evan      fuck

—«·»—

Evan is surprised to find Connor standing next to his locker. “Uh…h-hi?”

“We needed to talk,” Connor murmurs.

Evan nods slowly and reaches for his lock. His hands are shaking and he keeps messing up the combination. “I— About dinner tonight I, I mean I didn’t— Zoe just…” He wipes his hands on his pants and resets the lock.

Connor makes a frustrated sound in the back of his voice. “It’s…fine. Zoe’s a bitch—”

“D-don’t call her that.”

“—and my mom’s been harassing me about it all week. I was trying to avoid this shit.”

Evan can feel Connor’s eyes burning into him as he fumbles with the lock again.

“You-you told me I shouldn’t— that dinner was a bad idea but I still said yes which was really, that wasn’t the best, I should’ve just said no but I panicked and saying no— I’m really bad at saying no.” Evan takes a deep breath and stares at his lock. The numbers are swimming in his vision.

Connor nudges him. “Move.”

Evan jumps away from him with wide eyes. “W-what?”

“I can do it.” Connor spins the lock. “What’s the combination?”

“Three, fifteen, fourteen,” Evan mumbles. He should be able to open his locker. He should be able to open a lock. He should be able to do this.

Connor pulls the lock open. “There.” He steps aside so Evan can put away his books. “Zoe already told my mom you were coming tonight. Got a bunch of excited text messages from her during class.”

Evan avoids looking at him as he opens his locker and starts emptying his backpack.

“Just…” Connor sighs. “Listen, it’s going to be fucked.”

Evan glances up at him. “Why? Because I’m—”

“No, because my family is fucked. We’re fucked up. We all hate each other and there is literally nothing but our ‘good name’ holding us together. It’s going to be shitty. The food will be bad, the conversation will be bad, and there might be yelling.”

Evan takes a shaky breath. “Oh. That’s— um, it’s not…encouraging.”

“I’m warning you.” Connor blows his bangs out of his eyes. “Don’t go in expecting the perfect American dream family, that’s just what my mom wants you to think.”

“Are you trying to get me to not go?” Evan asks, forcing a laugh as he pulls his backpack on.

Connor meets his eyes with absolute sincerity. “Yes.”  

—«·»—

Evan doesn’t have to text Zoe for the address, Connor sends it to him without prompting. Followed by a text that says ‘dont get mauled by a deer’. Evan tries to take it as a joke — it should be a joke, Evan remembers everyone yelling in third grade because there were a couple of deer outside their classroom window — but he’s freaking out too much to take anything lightly.

He scrubs Zoe’s number off his arm without even writing it down and he doesn’t know if he regrets that or not. He changes his shirt four times before putting one on that’s almost identical to the one he was wearing at school. He doesn’t know what to do with his hair.

Zoe had said “like six thirty”, but Evan doesn’t know what that means. So he leaves earlier than he has to and follows the instructions he wrote down on his phone. He’s almost definitely going to be way too early and he’s not sure how he’s supposed to deal with that when he gets there. Maybe he can hide in the bushes or something until it’s a reasonable time to knock on their door.

He finds himself standing on the edge of a driveway at 6:03. It’s not too dark yet, but the sun is beginning to set. He stares up at the house. The number is right but he wants to check.

From: Evan To: Connor      Your ho use is ti blue ? Like sorta darkish maybe grayish?

From: Connor To: Evan      yeah its blue and theres this huge ass tree in front of it thats a pain int he ass

Evan looks up at his phone. There is indeed a large tree.

From: Evan To: Connor      It looks liek a nice tree

From: Connor To: Evan      you know you can come inside instead of standing out there like a stalker right

From: Evan To: Connor      Im early

From: Connor To: Evan      and?????      we need to game plan hansen get inside      fuck it im coming to you

Evan is about to ask him what he means when the front door opens and Connor steps out, closing it behind him. Evan is suddenly very glad he didn’t ask, because that would’ve been a silly question, and things are already tense enough as it is.

Connor makes his way down the driveway, tugging down the sleeves of his sweatshirt as he does so. “Do you like couscous?” he asks.

Evan blinks. “I…don’t know?”

“Okay, well my mom was saying something about couscous earlier, so that’s happening.”

Evan frowns. “Um, okay.”

Connor raises an eyebrow at him. “Were you just going to stand out here until you thought it was a good time to come in?”

Evan looks at the ground. “No. I just— I was just. I’m early.”

“Cool. You made it, though. Welcome to hell.” Connor gestures to the house.

“I thought school was hell,” Evan says.

Connor snorts. “That’s the hellhole. This is true hell. Because my family is there.”

“Do you—” Connor turns his attention back to Evan and Evan hesitates. “Are things really…that bad?”

“I don’t have a door,” Connor says after a moment. “Larry took it away after I tried to off myself.” Evan takes a shallow breath. “Him and my mom fight all the time. Don’t know why they’re still together sometimes. I once threatened to kill Zoe while I banged on her door when I was high so honestly it’s no surprise that we barely talk. But it could be worse,” he says in an almost mocking way that’s almost jarring after his calm and steady tone. He looks at Evan with an empty look in his eyes.

Evan thinks now is when he’s supposed to be afraid.

But Evan is afraid of everything, and for some reason, this doesn’t make him any more anxious than usual. Connor doesn’t make him any more anxious than usual. The idea of a family dinner, yes. But Connor himself, no.

Maybe it’s because he tried to fix things after he shoved Evan. Maybe it’s because Evan’s already snapped at him. Maybe it’s because he’s paying him twenty dollars to do this.

But Connor Murphy doesn’t scare him.

“I’m sorry,” Evan says softly when the silence has stretched thin.

Connor scoffs. “Why?”

“I…” Evan shakes his head. “I don’t know.”

Connor moves on. Evan is glad. “I can do most of the talking or whatever tonight. Hopefully my mom sticks to the basics. Zoe and Larry don’t even want to be doing this, so we should be okay on that end. If my mom asks too many personal questions I’ll tell her to fuck off, but mostly she’ll probably just ask you what you want to do in college.”

“Uh…”

“Exactly,” Connor says knowingly. “I hope you’re ready to face the fires of hell.”

—«·»—

The Murphy’s house is big. That’s the first thing that Evan thinks.

There are three floors and an office and a living room and a dining room and Connor just waves it all off as he gives Evan a quick tour of the first floor, gesturing to the basement door and the stairs to the bedroom, and Evan is completely and totally overwhelmed. There are too many rooms and really the only one he needs to be able to find is the bathroom, there are multiple of those he knows that because Connor mentioned two upstairs, but Evan has gotten lost in the hallways and rooms and— 

He’s just going to follow Connor around like a lost puppy. Because if he tries to go anywhere in this house he will get lost.

“Kitchen,” Connor says, pointing toward a doorway. “I think my mom and Zoe are hiding out in there right now. Larry’s probably in his office because he’s always in his office. And dining room.” He gestures to the table. “There you go.”

Evan nods. Sure. He didn’t give Connor a house tour when Connor visited the other day. He wonders if that’s the polite thing you’re supposed to do or just something that Connor is told to do.

Zoe steps out of the kitchen with an armful of plates stacked with silverware. “You’re setting the table tomorrow,” she says to Connor as she puts down a plate. “Since you weaseled your way out of it tonight.”

Connor rolls his eyes.

“D-do you want help?” Evan asks, twisting the bottom of his shirt with his hands.

Zoe gives Evan a pointed look. “No it’s fine,” she says, still staring at Connor. “I can handle it.”

“You’re too nice,” Connor grumbles when Zoe disappears back into the kitchen.

Evan laughs awkwardly. “I just— I don’t know how family dinners work?”

“You’re lucky.”

An older woman, Evan assumes Connor’s mom, comes out of the kitchen with a pot and Zoe follows closely after with a serving bowl. Evan thinks he may vaguely recognize her from elementary school, when PTA was a thing and when parents were always in the classroom helping with parties or snack time or library days— at least, the stay at home moms were.

“Evan, my mom,” Connor says flatly. “Mom, Evan.”

Evan waves awkwardly. “Th-thanks for having me, Mrs. Murphy.”

She lights up. “Please! Call my, Cynthia!”

“Oh, okay.”

Zoe puts the bowl down on the table. “I’ll get Dad.” She pushes past Connor without a word and Connor glares at her back.

“Connor, sweetie, help me with the rest of the food.” Cynthia gestures for him to follow, which he does with a begrudging sigh.

Evan follows, not really wanting to stay in the dining room by himself. The kitchen is big and and clean and well lit and everything is stainless steel and fancy. There are pots one the stove and dishes sitting in a dish rack and a patterned dish towel by the sink and Evan doesn’t know the last time him and his mom made a home cooked meal. He doesn’t remember the last time he made something more complicated than mac n cheese.

“Do you— can I help?” Evan offers, because Connor is grabbing a pot and a potholder because he’s part of this family, even if he doesn’t feel like he is.

“You can take this, if you’d like.” Cynthia motions to a bowl with carrots in it. “It’s sweet of you to offer.”

Evan follows Connor back into the dining room, putting the bowl down on the table where there’s space and hoping there’s no order or specific placing to where things go. Zoe wanders back in from the back of her house, sliding her phone into her pocket.

“Dad’ll be in in a sec,” she says, pulling out a chair. “Finishing up a call.”

“Whatever,” Connor says. He drops down into a chair and points to the next one when he meets Evan’s eyes.

“I was talking to mom,” Zoe says shortly.

Connor just takes a long sip of milk.

Evan sits next to Connor. He tries to focus on the fact that the seat of the chair is comfortable and significantly higher quality than the old wooden chairs him and his mom have in their kitchen— old and battered and scratched up on the legs from when Evan was little and would run toy trucks into them over and over again.

Larry comes in and sits down on one end of the table, between Zoe and Connor. Somehow, that makes Evan nervous. He glances to Evan and looks at him like he can’t really believe he’s there. Valid, Evan can’t believe he’s here either.

“Nice to see you again, Evan,” Larry says.

“Y-you too,” Evan mumbles, looking down at his hands. Just get through dinner just get through dinner.

Connor moves his silverware around.

Cynthia sits down and everyone reaches for food. Evan stars as hands reach for spoons and bowls. Zoe starts talking as if cued. Larry gives short responses, Cynthia asks her questions, and Connor ignores her. Connor offers Evan a spoonful of something and Evan nods because he doesn’t know what it is so might as well try. Besides, it’d be rude to refuse food when they invited him for dinner.

“It’s so nice to really meet you, Evan!” Cynthia says suddenly. Maybe not suddenly. Maybe Evan is paying even less attention than he thought he was.

“It’s ni-nice to meet you too,” he stutters.

Zoe raises her eyebrows at him. He can’t read what that’s supposed to mean.

Evan swallows and picks at his food. He’s barely eaten all day and he should really eat now, but he can’t bring himself to bring food to his mouth.

“So how did you two meet?” Cynthia asks. She looks between Connor and Evan.

Evan and Connor exchange a glance. This is fine. They’ve talked about this. They just have to stick to the story. They’re fine.

“School,” Connor says. “Last year, partway through second semester. I couldn’t figure out how to add a printer to the computer in the computer lab, so Evan did it for me.”

“It’s— the adding a printer thing is…unnecessarily complicated,” Evan says. “It’s just…”

“Annoying,” Connor finishes.

Zoe narrows her eyes at Connor. “I never saw you two hanging out around school together,” she says, pushing food around her plate. Evan puts his hands under the table and digs his nails into his palms. They’ve already talked about this, which means she’s just doing this to antagonize Connor.

Evan glances at Connor out of the corner of his eye. Connor tightens his jaw. Evan looks away.

Zoe points her fork at Evan. “I’ve only ever seen you hang out with Jared Kleinman, and he’s an asshole.”

“Language,” Larry says, reaching for a bowl in the middle of the table.

“No she’s right,” Connor says. “He is an asshole.”

Evan makes a face. “I-I mean—”

Connor turns to him and gives him a flat look. “Are you saying he’s not a jerk?”

Evan stares at Connor for a long moment. “Didn’t say that.”

“Jared?” Cynthia asks. “Do we know him?”

Larry shrugs.

“God I hope not,” Connor mutters.

Cynthia gives him a pointed look before she looks to Evan. Evan’s stomach twists. “You should’ve come over during the summer! We would’ve been happy to have you.”

Evan smiles weakly. “I-it’s fine! I was, um, I worked this summer. I-I was an apprentice park ranger at, at Ellison State Park? So I was— mostly I just…worked and slept.” He laughs awkwardly. “It’s fine.”

“You had a job,” Larry says. He sounds almost impressed and Connor goes tense next to Evan.

“Y-yeah. It was— I like trees so it was fun. Connor and I, uh, we just talked over email.” Evan stabs something with his fork and stuffs it into his mouth. He needs to stop talking immediately.

“Emails?” Zoe laughs. “Are we in the stone age?”

“No,” Connor says slowly. He looks to Larry with a flat glare.

Evan bites down on his bottom lip.  

Larry meets Connor’s glare. “Email isn’t that outdated,” he says calmly.

Connor scowls. Evan thinks that something is going to snap. It’s just a matter of who.

Cynthia clears her throat. “So Evan, do you have plans for college yet?”

Fuck.

To be fair, Connor did warn him. Evan had just been hoping that maybe…

“Uh… I…I want to go to college,” Evan says carefully. “Just…um. I don’t really know— I mean I haven’t really decided…” He looks down to his plate. “My mom has been, uh, having me do lots of scholarship stuff? I like…” What does he like? What can he make into a career? Shit. “Writing. And uh, nature. So maybe…something to do with one of those?”

He looks up and Cynthia smiles at him. “That sounds nice,” she says. “It’s fine if you’re undecided right now, I was undecided for a very long time.”

Zoe raises her eyebrows like she’s heard this hundreds of times before.

“Applications are soon,” Cynthia muses. “Any idea where you’re applying yet?”

“Um—”  

“Mom, come on,” Connor interrupts. “Can we not talk about college right now?”

“Yeah, cause you’re not going,” Zoe says.

Everything stops.

Connor clenches his hands tight around his silverware, burning holes into the table with his glare. Larry stops eating to look at Connor. Cynthia pointedly does not look at anyone. Zoe stares at Connor with cold defiance in her eyes.

It’s hard to breathe. The room is getting very small and Evan’s dish is swimming before his eyes.

He wants to be anywhere other than here.

“I think it’s admirable that Evan is going to college,” Larry says. He cuts something on his dish and the noise of the knife on the plate grates Evan’s ears and makes him cringe. “He’s making a future for himself. Building a life for himself.”

Connor scoffs and Evan sinks back into his seat.

Larry looks past Connor and at Evan. Evan feels like he’s suffocating. “Zoe’s already looking at colleges,” Larry says. “Maybe you two should compare notes.” There’s a joking tone in his voice.

Evan feels sick.

“What?” Connor asks. “Not going to outright tell me I’m throwing away my entire future tonight?” His voice is almost shaking and so are Evan’s hands. “Sorry I can’t be perfect like Zoe is.”

Zoe slams her silverware down on the table. “Don’t bring me into this! It’s not my fault you gave up on everything!”

Evan’s breathing is getting more and more shallow and he’s just trying to take slow breaths but his head is spinning and he feels like he’s going to fall over.

“Please,” Cynthia says softly. “We don’t—”

“You were always part of this!” Connor snaps. “You don’t get to write yourself out of my life!”

“Fuck you!” Zoe shouts.

“Connor,” Larry says harshly, “calm down and stop blaming Zoe for things you could have fixed yourself.”

Evan squeezes his eyes shut tightly.

“Fix it myself?!” Connor grits his teeth. “Don’t you think I fucking tried that?!”

In. One, two, three, four, five. Hold.

“Point out one time you tried,” Larry spits.

One, two, three, four, five. Out.

“It would’ve been easier for you if I just died,” Connor snarls. “Maybe I should’ve.”

Evan’s eyes snap open.

Someone inhales to say something.

Evan stands up. “I— Wh-where’s the bathroom?”

Cynthia forces a smile, shaky and fake and unnatural. “If you go down the hallway to the lef—”

Connor pushes his chair away from the table. “I’ll bring him.” He starts walking and Evan follows.

Evan’s legs feel like jello and the colors of the world are muted. There’s a heavy weight on his chest and he can’t breathe anymore he can’t breathe.

Connor brings him up the stairs and Evan focuses on not collapsing.

“Here,” Connor says, opening a door at the end of a hall.

Evan can’t even say thank you, he just brushes past Connor and leans against the nearest wall, trying to stay standing. His knees go weak and he slides to the floor. He puts his head between his legs and tries so hard to breath to just calm down to just stop everything needs to stop.

“Evan?” Connor asks.

Did he close the door? He doesn’t think he closed the door. Everything feels weird and out of place and he can’t breathe he can’t breathe he can’t breathe— 

“Evan.” Connor’s voice is louder now. Closer. The door clicks closed. “Evan do you need me to do something?”

Evan shakes his head. He shakes it a few more times. He’s okay. He’s okay. He feels nauseous and terrible but he’s not going to throw up. He’s going to pull himself together and he will be fine. He will be fine.

Eventually he is more fine. His breathing evens out, his heart stops trying to beat out of his chest. His head hurts, but he’s less lightheaded. He’s not crying and he’s not choking back sobs.

It’s okay. He’s okay.

He looks up from his knees to see Connor sitting on the bathroom floor across from him. Connor studies him for a minute before he stands up and turns one the sink.

Evan sniffs and wipes his face with the back of his hand. He doesn’t know when he started crying. It doesn’t matter anymore.

“Here,” Connor says softly, handing Evan a cup of water. It’s one of those paper cups that they used to use back in elementary school when they did flouride. It has turtles on it. Evan wonders who bought them while he takes a small sip of water.

His hands are still shaky but they’re a little bit better.

“I’m sorry,” he says after a few more moments of silence. The water is half gone. Once he finishes it, he’ll probably keep holding onto the cup. Crumple it up in his hands. Rip it to pieces. Do something with his hands so he doesn’t lose it. “I-I didn’t—” He stops himself when Connor sits back down across from him.

“Don’t be sorry,” Connor says. “I’m sorry. For my family. For me. For fucking…all of this.” He gestures around them. Around the bathroom that still looks like it belongs to little kids with it’s colorful shower curtain and flower and monkey patterned towels and turtle patterned cups. A bathroom that belongs to two kids. Not two people who can’t even eat dinner together without yelling at each other.

Evan looks down into the cup.

“I should’ve tried harder to stop you from coming,” Connor mutters. “I knew that it was going to end up like that.”

“It’s— I-I wanted to come,” Evan says. “It’s not— d-don’t blame yourself.”

Connor eyes him. “Fine. Then you aren’t allowed to think you ruined dinner. Because that was my entire family’s fault. We’re the reason that you’re—”

“I’m fine.”

Connor’s expression gets almost sad for a second. “Okay. You’re fine.”

Evan drinks the rest of the water. “D-do they—? Are we supposed to…”

Connor sighs and looks away. “It doesn’t matter. We don’t have dinner together as a family for a reason. Zoe and Larry certainly don’t expect me back.”

“Oh,” Evan whispers.

“That extends to you,” Connor points out. “You’re my guest. Trust me, we can stay here until they coast is clear.” He glances to the door. “You can see people leaving the house from the dining room. I fucking hate open house plans.”

Evan forces a laugh. “I-I guess that’s— that’s a fair reason to hate th-them.”

Connor smiles a little and flicks hair out of his eyes. “They probably won’t be too much longer. I can go down before you, scout it out.

Evan picks at the rolled edges of the cup. “D-do— do you sneak out? Often?”

Connor shrugs. “Sometimes. Depends. I mean…not much point in being here.” He raises an eyebrow. “I can just go get high in the park.”

Evan takes a deep breath. “I guess. M-my mom’s never home so…” He shakes his head. “No reason to leave when you’re— when you’re already alone.”

Connor nods and they sit in silence for a few minutes. “I’m going to go check,” Connor says, pulling himself to his feet. He opens the door a crack and slips through it, closing the door behind him.

Evan crumples the cup up between his hands and then attempts to straighten it out again.

Connor knocks once on the door before saying “It’s me” and opening the door. “Coast is clear.” He offers Evan his hand and pulls Evan up from the floor.

Evan sways a little bit as he takes a step forward and Connor puts a hand on his shoulder.

“Are you okay?” he asks, eyebrows furrowing.

Evan nods. “Fine. Just…tired.”

“Right. Come on.” Connor leads him down the hall.

Evan hesitates in front of a room with a doorframe but no door. He glances inside and sees Connor’s bag on his desk.

Connor wasn’t joking about having no door.

Connor opens the front door and steps outside with Evan. “Want me to walk you home?” Connor asks. “It’s kind of dark.”

They both look up at the sky. Evan will have to go mostly by the setting sun and weak streetlights.

Evan shakes his head. “I’ll be okay, but thanks.”

Connor opens his mouth and then closes it. “Okay. Just…I don’t fucking know. Text me when you get home or something. Try not to get by a car. Or a deer.”

Evan gives him a small smile. “D-do you really have this many deer on this side of town?”

“We’re only a fifteen minute walk away from each other, Hansen,” Connor points out. “But yes. Watch out for those motherfuckers.”

“I will.” Evan walks down the front steps and then looks back at Connor. “I…thanks.”   

Connor scoffs. “For nothing.”

Evan shrugs and walks down the unnecessarily long driveway. He takes out his phone and pulls up maps and puts in his address. The sun is setting faster and it’s starting to get colder and there’s a deep tiredness in Evan’s bones, but he’s okay. It’s okay.

[haroldslovekitten]

Ever Since New York - Pink Series pt. 3

Hi guys! Here’s another part of my series! Harry has got it BAD, and is dealing with lots of feelings. I hope you enjoy reading! Word Count: ~5k

Catch Up Here: Sweet Creature, Carolina. 

The next few days spent in New York were like torture for Harry. He desperately wanted to know how things went with the guy from work, Connor, Harry remembers bitterly. What an average fucking name, probably an average fucking dude…Harry hopes. Maybe if you were successful, you’d quickly realize he wasn’t right for you, and that Harry in fact was. Aside from the fact that he’s now dealing with knowing he’s in love with his best friend, but now he gets to be infinitely jealous with nothing to do about it. While he’s busy with meetings and photoshoots, all he can think about is if you’re trying his tactic yet, if you’ve managed to woo the seemingly unwooable man and basically replaced Harry. 

His nights are spent uncomfortable and anxious, tossing and turning, debating whether or not to call you. Often, he finds himself getting up and wandering around the city in the middle of the night, surprised at the fact that it’s only slightly quieter than midday and pray for peace, and quiet, and you. Harry’s never been a particularly religious man. Sure, he was raised catholic, and wears a cross around his neck and tattooed on his hand, but God has always seemed like such a far away figure, so out of tune with his everyday life, looking to something as all-knowing as God always seemed a little dramatic, and futile, but he’s desperate, so very desperate. He finds himself begging the universe, begging God that you’ll one day be his, but he still can’t shake the feeling that it’s impossible, hopeless, and that he’s destined to be your friend, always, no matter how much he loves you. 

And while his nights are spent awake and lonely, his days are spent in a trance-like state, performing his duties without his usual passion and light. You’ve had more of an effect on him than he realized. He feels empty without you, alone and incomplete, those feelings only exaggerated by the fact that you want someone who isn’t him.

To his annoyance, he hasn’t heard from you since that night on video chat. He’d hoped you’d keep him updated, or you know, maybe miss him enough to call rather than being all caught up on Connor? But no, you’re busy and focused on someone else, and he’s just going to have to deal with that. Still, coming back to London was going to be a relief. He missed you dearly, even if you didn’t miss him quite as much. He needed to see your face, hear your laugh, feel you hug him and at this point, though it’s only been a week since he last saw you, he’s willing to put up with any amount of Connor talk if it just means being in the same room as you. He doesn’t know how he’ll keep his feelings to himself, if he’s honest, but he’s got to try, got to succeed because no matter what, he can’t lose you - ever.

As he’s boarding the plane back to London, he finally gets a text from you. His stomach drops in an unfamiliar way when your name lights up his screen. He’s not used to feeling nervous to hear from you, or even used to get so worked up over just a text, but with his recent discovery of his feelings, the fact that you haven’t spoken in almost a week, and that his relationship to you now seems so very precarious, any mention of you has him reeling.

You’re coming home tomorrow morning, right? x

Yeah. Why, what’s up? Harry asks, not wanting to seem too invested, but actually extremely interested.

Your place. Wine. Food. Whole shebang at 8? :)

Sounds like a plan. Miss you x he writes, before Sounds like a plan x seems like a better idea and he sends that instead.

Perfect, miss you! You respond, and Harry can literally feel his heart jump in his chest and kicks himself because of course you miss him, but as a friend.

The entirety of the plane ride is spent dealing with nerves, wondering why you want to come over to his so badly? Did things go well with Connor? Badly? Did you suddenly realize you’re madly in love with Harry and want to spend the rest of your life with him? He has to remind himself that you’re best friends and that it’s normal to want to just hang out for no reason whatsoever and maybe that’s what this is! In fact, he’s sure that that’s what this is…he thinks.

Once home, he is finally able to sleep, even though it’s broad daylight and he should try to fight the jet-lag, but his bed seems so comfortable and welcoming. If he finally sleeps, he won’t be agonizing about you, so that’s a bonus. Surprisingly, he’s able to get to sleep pretty quickly and gets the most sound sleep he’s had in days. Maybe just being in the same city as you is enough to calm him down, and to know that you do in fact still want to spend time with him.  For once, his thoughts shift from anger and frustration about Connor to excitement at being able to spend the night with you, and he drifts off with thoughts of cuddling you while watching a familiar romantic comedy and being completely at peace.

Hours later, he’s still conked out in bed, hair a ruffled mess around his head, mouth hanging open slightly as a bit of drool drips from his lips. He hasn’t slept this soundly in a week and it’s a blessing. Harry stirs in his sleep, something tickling at his nose, disturbing his slumber. When he finally wakes with a groan, his eyes open to see you sitting before him, a grin on your face, and a bit of your hair tucked between your fingers explaining what exactly was tickling his nose. He can’t quite tell if he’s awake, or if he’s dreaming you up, sitting here in just your pyjamas, the sweetest smile on your face, your laugh tinkling through the air, and a gaze that says he’s one of your favorite people in the world.

“Wake up, sleepyhead!” you giggle, poking the dimple that pops up on Harry’s face when he stretches, his face all screwed up into a weird look.

“Jus’ wanna go to bed,” Harry whines, happy you’re here and wanting nothing more than to just pull you close, maybe even turn around and be the little spoon for once, and fall asleep with you laying soft kisses on his shoulder.

“You’ve been in bed all day! You won’t be able to sleep tonight if you keep on like this,” you chastise, continuing to poke at him to keep him awake.

“How’d you even get in anyways?” Harry grumbles, pulling your hands away from his face and holding them a bit longer than really necessary, but you don’t mind.

“I was knocking for like five minutes and you never answered, turns out you left the door unlocked so I let myself in,” you say calmly, as if waltzing into his house unannounced is something you do regularly. “Missed you while you were gone,” you say, quieter.

That statement has Harry’s eyes opening and full of energy as he looks at you. You won’t make eye contact with him, but instead are toying with the hem of his sweaterpaw, a slight blush gracing your cheeks.

“Missed you too, Y/N,” he says, “Didn’t realize hanging out so much would make being gone so much harder,” he continues, staying clear of his feelings, but making sure you know that it’s okay to have missed him and that you’re not crazy.

“I know,” you sigh, frustrated, “I didn’t think about that either. And now, you’re the first person I want to talk to when something exciting happens, and you were so far away….but guess what!” you say, rambling slightly, clearly eager to tell him something.

“What’s that? Come on, give us a cuddle and tell me about your week” he says, tugging on you slightly so that you nestle down in bed with him, cuddling up to him while you speak.

You lay beside him, his arm draped across your belly, his head tucked against your shoulder and it’s quiet and comfortable for a second, you dancing your fingers through the light dusting of hair on his arm, his breathing slowing back to almost sleeping, but not quite.

“Well,” you begin nervously. “I followed your advice with Connor.”

At that, Harry froze up a bit, his body going from complete relaxation to a somewhat controlled tension beside you.

“Don’t worry, he was nice, it totally worked!” you say, feeling his tension and assuming that he was worried you were sad, when in actuality, your comment only confirmed his fears.

“I did what you said, acting like I was all into you over the phone, and just barely giving him the time of day. We started talking so much more and then all of a sudden, he asked me out for dinner! I don’t know if it was jealousy and wondering if he could get me when it seemed like I was with you, or if it was just the idea that I was wanted by and wanted other people that piqued his interest, but at this point I don’t really care. We’re going out to dinner at Vincent’s on Friday!” you practically squealed, getting giddy at just the thought.

“That’s amazing, love,” Harry commented, feigning excitement. “You really like him then?”

“Well duh,” you say, completely oblivious to the torture you’re putting Harry through. “Like I said, he’s so smart and talented I could go on for days about his work, but also jesus, I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone as sexy as him…he’s got that kind of like, effortlessly perfect thing going for him where he never looks like he tries that hard, but he just looks incredible  naturally,” you rant, the excitement clear in your voice, every comment acting as a knife to Harry’s heart as he listens to you gush over someone that’s not him and that he seemingly has no ability to compete with, at least in your eyes.

Harry takes a moment to collect himself, pushing all of his feelings down with everything that he has. All he wants is to turn away from you in this moment, pout, cry even, and in general be in a sour mood for the rest of the night, but he knows that’s not what you need. You need him, as a friend, as your best friend, to encourage you and support you as you have this wonderful opportunity to date the man of your dreams. He needs to put all selfishness aside, and that’s exactly what he does, or at least tries to do.

“Well that’s great, he sounds incredible, Y/N. What time is the date? What are you going to wear? What do you think you’ll talk about? Do you want to go home with him?” he asks, all the questions a best friend would ask really, but all with a somewhat ulterior motive.

“Oh my gosh, okay, so the date is at 8. He’s picking me up and driving me there. I thought we’d just like take the tube or something, but he was determined to drive. I’ve never been to Vincent’s, have you? How fancy is it? I don’t know what to wear, but I have a few ideas. I want to see what you think.”

Harry nods a bit before responding.

“That sounds really nice, being on a crowded tube during a date is less that ideal, so I’m glad he’s driving. Vincent’s is quite nice. Not like super fancy dressed to the nines nice, but nice enough that you should probably wear a dress. Yeah, definitely a dress…” he says, his mind wandering to images of you in cute little sundresses and he struggles to stay present in the moment.

“Okay, that’s what I was thinking. So, here are some pictures I took of different dresses I’ve got,” you say, pulling out your phone and beginning to scroll through pictures you took throughout the week in your favorite dresses. You’ve got a tight black one paired with simple black pumps, a flowy red one with cutouts just under your bust, a soft pink maxi dress that hugs you in all the right places,  and your personal favorite, a light blue wrap dress that makes your cleavage look incredible. You watch Harry’s reaction to each picture, having no idea that in his mind, he is doing everything he can to not either get turned on or just start randomly crying. He keeps his composure, if only just, but when he sees you in the blue dress, one that he was actually with you when you bought, his eyes go a little wider and you don’t miss the hitch in his breathing.

“I think the pink one,” he nods, looking as if he thought long and hard about his answer.

“No way, I saw your face when I showed you the blue one, I should definitely wear the blue one,” you laugh, looking at the picture of you in your favorite dress once again.

“Obviously you look incredible in all of them, love,” Harry assures you, the hand on your stomach patting gently. “But I think the pink one is more appropriate for Vincent’s and for a first date. That’s just my opinion though,” he says, trying to seem as nonchalant as possible.

You ponder his suggestion for a moment, not denying that maybe it’d be best to keep the blue one, your go to ‘wow’ dress on hold for a later date, to keep some ammunition to pull out later, should you really want to seal the deal.

“Okay, maybe you’re right. I’ll wear the pink one and keep the blue one for when we go somewhere really fancy,” you nod and Harry is slightly relieved. It’s not that you don’t look fantastic in the pink dress, you really do, but there is just something about that blue dress, the way it fits you and makes you look almost like an ethereal goddess. Plus, the fact that you bought it with him that has Harry hoping to god you keep that dress on the hanger, because he knows that it will make Connor putty in your hands, and that’s not what he wants. As you begin to speak, you pull Harry from his less than pleasant thoughts.

“I’m so glad you’re home, H. I don’t know who I’d talk to about this stuff without you here! This is so much better than just video chatting,” you comment, nuzzling closer to him, blissfully unaware of the fact that your closeness is causing every muscle in his body to scream to just kiss you already.

Harry just nods and holds you close, his mind whirling with possibilities of what could happen on Friday night between you and Connor.

“So, you said you were or weren’t planning to go home with him after the date?” Harry asks, wagging his eyebrows in order to lighten the mood. While he may be presenting his question as if he’s just casually curious and wanting to tease, the idea of you going home with this Connor guy, and him getting to have you in a way that Harry never will, and probably not appreciating you to the extent that Harry would is weighing on his brain.

“Well aren’t you nosy,” you tease, scooting up in bed a bit and making Harry groan in response, but he obliges and sits up with you.

“Honestly though, what’s your game-plan?” Harry badgers.

“Okay, so like he’s picking me up at his house, right? And so then in the car it’ll probably be awkward and just small talk, but once we get to the restaurant and start eating, it’ll probably be a little more comfortable. Still awkward, but in a cute way. Hopefully I’ll have a drink or two so I won’t be as shy or nervous. Then when the meal is over, we’ll be back in the car, hopefully by this time comfortable enough to like, hold hands, and then he’ll drive me to mine and walk me to the door, if the date went well we’ll kiss there and I’ll say goodnight. If the date went really well, I’ll invite him in for a night-cap!” you say, winking at the end to emphasize your point, excitement and glee gracing your features.

Harry marvels at the way you light up when you talk about Connor. It’s the way he used to light up when he thought about you before he realized what that meant - that him being friends with you was going to be torture. A small smile toys at your lips when you think about Connor walking you to the door, and Harry has to look away. He’s not used to not being the reason for your smile and he doesn’t quite know how to handle it.

“So basically, you have no idea,” he laughs, trying to be light-hearted.

“I really don’t,” you laugh, “but I’m kind of hoping…Do you think it would be a bad idea?” you ask, looking at Harry seriously, fear and concern in your eyes. “Do you think he’ll think I’m a slut and never want to see me again?”

“Y/N, no, come on, we’ve talked about this. If you want to sleep with someone, do it, just be safe. It doesn’t matter if someone ends up thinking you’re slutty, because if they do, they’re idiots who don’t deserve your time, you know that. So do what feels right for you and if that changes his perspective about you in a negative way, that’s his loss. I just don’t want you to do that, you know, sleep with him, and then get all attached and him not be emotionally invested and end up hurting you. But like I said, do what you feel comfortable doing, love,” Harry reassures you, calming your worry and reminding you that you have every right to sleep with whoever you want, whenever you want, as long as they’re just as into it as you are.

“I know, you’re right. And he seems so amazing, I doubt he’d be a judgy asshole about that.”

“Perfect!” Harry says, with a bit too much mock enthusiasm and earns a weird look from you.

“So, I’m hungry. There’s wine and pizza in the kitchen. Come with me?” you ask, your stomach rumbling slightly at the thought of food.

“You’re a saint,” Harry says, slowly lifting his long limbs from the bed and stretching. His sweater pulls up slightly at the front, his tummy on display and you don’t miss the way his happy trail leads downwards past the waistband of his jeans. You’ve never necessarily been attracted to Harry, perse, but you could definitely recognize just how handsome he was sometimes, and this was another one of those moments. His hair was an absolute mess no top of his head, and his eyes all squinty and tired, but the small smile on his lips that made his dimple barely poke out, and the way his sweater hung over his broad shoulders reminded you that yes, Harry may have been your best friend, but he’s also an extremely sexy human, that can’t be denied.

“So, what about you?” you ask as the two of you bump back and forth down the hallway to the kitchen. “I know you got all snippy last time I asked, but what’s going on in your love life?” you say, weary of setting him off again like last time.

“Well, it’s pretty shit actually,” he says, scratching at the back of his neck reflexively.

“But why? I mean, you’re so amazing…and I know it’s not easy because you’re famous and all, but what’s the deal?” you ask, genuinely confused as to why someone like Harry would have so much trouble finding love.

“I don’t know. Just not around girls who are my type much,” he says, sheepishly.

“What, unbelievably gorgeous super-models aren’t your type?” you ask sarcastically.

“No, they’re not actually,” he laughs. “Of course, they’re beautiful, but we don’t ever have much in common. The stuff I do doesn’t excite them, and no matter how much I admire what they do, it doesn’t really excite me either, so the conversations go bland quickly.”

You grab a now somewhat cold slice of pizza and take a large bit out of it as you nod, encouraging Harry to go on.

“I mean, you know how I am, all romantic and shit deep down inside, but I have such a hard time connecting to most of the people I meet.”

“That makes sense, I guess. But aren’t the women you work with like, uber talented and beautiful andperfect and just, the top of their game in all respects?” you ask, kind of confused.

“I mean, sure, but you know, talent and beauty and admiration aren’t all it takes in order to have a good connection and interest in someone,” Harry says and you don’t miss the way that the things he just listed perfectly mimic exactly why you’re so excited about Connor.

“I guess not,” you mumble, “but they’re a good starting point, aren’t they? Like it can’t hurt that they’re talented and beautiful and impressive, can it?”

“Well, not exactly,” he says, watching you closely as he continues, his eyes boring holes into your face, “but sometimes people who are all those things are so self-obsessed it becomes nearly impossible to talk about anyone but them and that doesn’t make for a good relationship.”

You take his comment seriously, but are somewhat unable to imagine that all the women he’s ever been with have only ever been able to talk about themselves. You find it difficult to imagine that anyone could be like that.

“People aren’t really that bad are they? Like can’t you talk and get down to a deeper level?”

“Despite what you may think. love, not all famous people are as thoughtful and profound as I am,” he laughs, taking a bite of his own pizza.

“Yeah, talk about self-obsessed,” you laugh in response. “So what are you going to do? How are you going to meet anyone if the people you work with and the people you hang out with are so repulsive to you?” you ask, only half serious. There’s no way those beautiful women could actually be repulsive, could they?

“I never said anything about the people I hang out with,” he says.

“Oh! Right, I know, I know, some beautiful girl in New York that kept you too busy to talk to me?” you ask, surprised at the seriousness of his answer and desperately wanting to keep him cheery.

“Huh, yeah I guess,” he says simply, the reality of your answer completely unknown to you, but you’d never put two and two together, so he just lets you believe what you want to believe. .

For the rest of the night, you and Harry talk like old times, drinking, stuffing your faces with pizza, and in general living life like best friends do. Harry managed to push the thoughts of Connor from his mind, and for the most part, the thoughts of wanting you have been erased as well. Maybe it’s by sheer force of will, or just that he finds spending time with you so fucking enjoyable that he doesn’t want to muck it up by being sad and mopey all night. The two of you laugh hysterically for a good portion of the night, you feeling brave and pulling up a karaoke app on your phone for the two of you to sing along to.

 Sure, singing may be the way Harry makes a living, but my god when he gets to let loose with you, listen to your voice sing some of his favorite songs so terribly but enthusiastically, and he can not worry about hitting notes, but just worry about having fun, singing becomes a whole new thing for him. You lean into each other when you sing dramatic duets, and dance around the room vulgarly when Sir Mix-A-Lot’s Baby Got Back comes on. It’s the most carefree he’s felt in a long time, and he has you to thank for that. 

By the time 1am rolls around, he’s struggling to keep you entertained, your eyes slowly drifting closed whenever there’s a lull in the conversation. Eventually, the two of you end up tangled on the couch, his arm wrapped around your shoulder, you nuzzled into his chest, while Harry scrolls through his phone, mumbling things he finds interesting to you occasionally, and you will give half-hearted chuckles or nods, not really engaging with him, but being there in his arms, while he speaks to you softly isn’t a bad place to be. It was inevitable that you’d fall asleep before him, especially since he slept basically all day, but just as you’re about to drift off, you pull him even closer, glancing up at him through sleepy eyes.

“You’re my best friend in the whole world,” you say with a smile before completely passing out on his chest.

“Tell me something I don’t already know,” he mumbles, feeling his heart heavy in his chest and almost immediately, his mind starts reeling.

It’s the melody that comes to him first, humming to himself as he scrolls through his phone, and then lyrics start to tumble from his lips. The thoughts of his pain and loneliness in New York, of knowing exactly how you felt about him and that it wasn’t nearly as intense as he felt about you; The idea that one day, maybe you would tell him something, something completely new and surprising that would send his world reeling - something like that you loved him the way he loved you and always had - that was the feeble hope behind the song that began to take shape.

He flicked to the voice recording app on his phone, pressing record as he began to sing softly.

Oh, tell me something I don’t already know.

Oh, tell me something I don’t already know.

Oh, tell me something I don’t already know.

He sings, as softly as possible, so softly in fact, that the snores tumbling from your lips are picked up by his app and he knows that even once the song is written, finished and produced, probably on his first album, he will be keeping this voice note forever, as a melancholy reminder of everything you two are, and everything you’ll never be.

He doesn’t hate himself for telling you how to woo Connor, he can’t. In that situation, he had to do what he could to be your best friend, and he’ll probably have to do that for the rest of his life. But he does regret that it worked, he regrets so deeply that in a couple night’s time, he’ll be pining over you, wishing and hoping that you’ll realize you love him, and you’ll be out, potentially sleeping with this oh so beautiful and talented man that he’ll never live up to, never compete with. He usually thinks the friendzone is a load of crap developed by men who just want to get into everyone’s pants, but right now, as you’re falling asleep on his chest, snoring softly and clutching tightly to him, all he wants in the world is to tell you just how much he loves you, and he doesn’t quite scoff at the idea anymore.

When you’ve fallen into a deep slumber, he forces himself to sit up, reaching around and pulling you into his lap so that he can lift you and carry you to his bed. Your head rests on his shoulder, your breath fanning out over his neck and it gives him goosebumps that he tries to ignore. His arm is hooked behind your back and beneath your legs and he is holding you tighter than completely necessary, but no one needs to know that. When he lies you in bed, you nuzzle into the pillow in the most adorable way, reaching out to him as he gets up to leave.

“Love you, H,” you whisper, patting his arm before falling back into your slumber.

“Love you too, Y/N,” he chokes out, tears stinging his eyes, and rushes from the room before he does something he’d really truly regret.

You were right, he shouldn’t have slept all day, because now sleep seems impossible. His feelings for you are overwhelming, the thought of you sleeping peacefully in his bed a few rooms over a sick joke as frustration and anger at the situation overcome him and he channels the feelings the only way he knows how - into yet another song he’ll have to pretend isn’t about you. He stays up most of the night, and as much as he tries to fight it, fantasies of you waking up in the middle of the night, making your way back out to the living room just to ask him to come in and cuddle, to be yours, as more than a friend, are tormenting him. But no, that won’t happen, will never happen, you’re all wrapped up in Connor and having the ‘most perfect best friend in the whole world’ and Harry will just have to deal with that. It’s not his place to tell you how to feel, or to ruin the perfect friendship the two of you have built together. He will carry this burden on his own, completely.