#yes this is an admittance that I have the clock app

[goldnnavy]

Rule #1 of the Palais Garnier: Don't piss off the Opera Ghost. You won't like the results!

[hockeyforthefirsttime]

Home For Christmas- Mat Barzal

AN: This is no shame, I started this before Christmas with the intention of finishing it as well... bitch I didn’t, so here we are.

Word count: 4k

TW: bad parenting, mentions of cheating, kind of angst? idk 

Sitting alone by the kitchen table, you watch the snow fall heavy over the town. You’re supposed to be working on your masters thesis, but your mind is a thousand miles away, 2 185,4 miles to be exact. 

And even that far away, Mat is still everywhere to be seen in a town he’s never been in. He’s in the cafe with the really bad coffee and the really good cakes, he’s in the window reflection in the old thrift shop you used to go to when you were younger. And you can imagine him so easily outside on the front porch, playing in the snow. 

In all honesty that would be ideal, having him here. But he’s not, he didn’t have the opportunity to come. You understand that. You understand that he’s got his own traditions, family and friends to see. 

But when you left JFK to come to the cabin in Alta, you wished that he was by your side, you by his. Instead of the snoring man that sat on your right hand side the entire flight. At least you got the window seat. 

Your parents went out to have dinner or visit some friends, you don’t care enough to remember. 

All you could think of was how Mat had been babbling about how excited he was for Christmas, and going home. And how you deep inside dreaded coming here. It’s not that your parents don’t love you, they just love the idea of the past you. Mat cares for you a lot, you know that, you’ve settled for that. But you haven’t had the heart to tell him how your parents only care for perfect facades and flaunting their riches. That's also why you haven’t told them about Mat. 

The snow is still falling over the perfectly decorated front lawn. 

You’re still thinking of Mat and how he would look with rosy cheeks from the cold, when your parents move in through the front door whilst talking in low murmurs. 

“Y/N, darling? You’re still awake?” 

Your mother asks, not yelling though, never yelling. She waits until she can see you from the hallway. 

“Yes, still kind of working.”

You answer politely. 

“Oh, you’re still writing your thesis?” 

Quickly as she comes around the table, you switch from the spotify tab, to the uni home page.The lie comes smoothly and she doesn’t notice, she never does. 

“My little hard worker, you’re gonna be such a good psychiatrist one day.” 

And your heart sinks all the way down to your stomach. You’ve never told them that you switched majors three years ago. Or that you’re not writing a dissection of the human mind, but rather a song. As well as a thesis. 

“Hey, I’m gonna go to my room.” 

Your mom nods at you with what almost resembled a fond smile. Passing your father in the hallway you see him slip something into the pocket of his already hung coat. 

“Night sweetheart.” 

“Night dad” 

You smile half heartedly while balancing your books and laptop in your hands. 

No matter how nicely the property is decorated, no matter how hard you try, you’ll never be what your parents expect you to be. They are much like their cabin in your opinion, pretty and inviting on the outside, shallow on the inside. 

You don’t know how to handle this. Because while you grew up a lot around here, New York feels like your home now. With pictures on the walls and tiny memories littered around the place. The bedroom you’ve always had in the cabin hasn’t changed much since you last were here. Pictures of people you no longer talk to still hang on the vanity you never used. 

Crawling underneath the thick duvet, you pull your phone off the charger on your nightstand. There are a few messages on snap chat and instagram you’ve missed. Mostly friends from college, all in their respective homes with their old friends and family. 

You close both of the apps, and sigh when you see the wallpaper of your phone. It’s a picture of you and Mat. You’re dressed in a hoodie with his jersey over it and his arms slung around your middle from behind, the both of you smiling at Beau behind the camera. You remember that day. 

It was in the early days of your relationship and only the second or third game you had been too of his. The Islanders had played the Rangers and won, Mat scored twice and it was overall a good game. The WAG’s had all started to head for the locker room hallway, while you set your path for the exit, planning on meeting Mat back at his apartment. Lauren was the first to see you trying to sneak out. And had instantly called you out on it. She’s a miracle worker with people, and within seconds she had figured out how scared you were that Mat wouldn’t want you there. After all this was a team win, and you didn’t quite feel like you were a part of the team. Not yet at least. 

And despite your fears, Lauren convinced you that he would love to see you first thing as he exited. And he had been. His already beaming face had swept you up in his strong arms and spun you around. Mat truly was and still is at times more excitable than a puppy.

-----

You wake up abruptly from someone yelling. That someone you quickly recognize as your father's voice. And your heart drops, even though the words are muffled, you can imagine the scene. Your mother, sitting at the kitchen table, in the same spot as you sat last night, telling him to calm down and stop yelling. Your father pacing in front of her, screaming about something you can’t quite figure out what is yet. He is obviously ignoring her.

Picking your phone up from the mattress as you sit up, there doesn’t seem to be anything new. You enter the messages app and shoot Mat a message, telling him to call you in thirty minutes. 

With a sigh, you pull the warm, comfortable duvet off yourself and drag your body out of the bed. Everything in the room seems a little colder, and you know it’s probably because of the badly isolated windows. That’s probably why the cool floorboards tickle your feet when you step on them. Luckily there is a pair of thick socks on the floor next to the bed, so you pull them on and walk to the door. 

Carefully you let the door creep open silently. 

“- and why couldn’t you just leave it be?” 

You hear your father yelling. 

“Because you’re my husband and I love you, you’re not supposed to have a second phone, much less a second girlfriend.” 

Immediately your stomach sinks. Your dad has a mistress? Then it was probably the second phone he slipped into the coat pocket last night. God, christmas spirit, eh? You shut the fight out of your mind instantly, not wanting this to be your christmas. In this moment you hate all the bad hallmark movies you’ve watched with Mat. Not for having watched them, but for letting them give you hope of a normal christmas.

On autopilot, you start packing the bag you never finished unpacking. It takes fifteen minutes for you to finish. Your phone starts ringing as soon as you zip the back shut. With a deep sigh you answer the phone. 

“Hi Mat.” 

“Hey, babe. You okay?” 

You can hear laughter in the background and the smile in his voice. You hate yourself for the next words. 

“No, not really.” 

The admittance lies heavy in your chest, but some of the weight seems to lift off when you speak the feelings into existence. 

“I’m sorry, is there anything I can do?” 

It's like the world disappears for a minute, and just hearing his voice calms you down. 

“No, I don’t think so, I just don’t think I can handle this right now. ‘M just gonna head home to my apartment. I can’t take my parents right now.”

It’s a relief to get the words out of your mouth and into existence. You can imagine him right now, with the cute frown on his face and the cogs and wheels in his brain turning.

“Hold on, you’re not gonna spend christmas morning alone are you?” 

“Why not? It’s not really different from what I’m used to, and it’s already the 23rd today anyway.” 

“That gives you just enough time to fly here!” 

 Your heart soars at the thought of waking up with Mat in his childhood home, but reason strikes you seconds later. 

“Mathew, I’m not gonna intrude on your family like that.” 

The sigh he releases on the other end of the phone, is followed by a small chuckle. 

“You’re not intruding. I promise. Plus they all love you.” 

------

You order an uber straight after calling Mathew. When you open the door to your bedroom, the yelling still hasn’t stopped. The log walls have always been pretty soundproof, but you swear, right now there is an echo in the house. Silently you close the door behind you. Your dad is still ranting on about how none of this is his fault, and how some things women simply don’t understand. 

You sigh and take off your shoes to make your steps even quieter than usual.It’s not that your father isn’t kind, it’s just that he seems to have been too kind to another woman. And it puts a great deal of fear into your heart. It makes you scared that Mat might do the same. 

You shake the thought (almost) out of your head, Mat is not your father, and you are not your mother. Still, you can’t help but feel like your mother deserves better. Leaning against the door frame, you pull up your phone and start scouring the web. 

The uber app alerts you of your rides arrival, and you go into your travel backpack and pull out a piece of paper and a pen. Quickly you write down the number and name of both a divorce lawyer and a couples therapist. Your coat is already on and your bag doesn't have wheels, so it’s a silent endeavour to the other bedroom in use on this floor. Your parent’s room. 

It looks like it always has. Everything is neatly put behind closed doors and the bed is perfectly made. No knick knacks on the bedside table, not even a book or an alarm clock. You sigh, put the note on your mothers side of the bed and leave.

You’re glad the kitchen doesn ‘t have a clear view of the hallway, your parents are too immersed in their fight, to notice the fact that their child is slipping through their fingers. They don’t notice you walking away from them.

------

The airport is not so surprisingly filled only with stragglers and people who are most likely working this christmas. The pine trees are decorated and everywhere, but you don’t feel as sick to your stomach as you usually do. Quickly you find your gate. It’s got a great view and you watch the snow fall under the lights of the airport and sip the holiday drink you uncharacteristically got from the coffee shop beside the gate. You have already checked in the luggage, so yet again you pull out a pen, but also a worn and torn leather bound notebook that’s been with you since the start of your degree. 

The songs usually come from poems but somehow this one is different. You start the melody quickly, writing down notes and sometimes little words that you feel make sense with the melody. Your hands start to itch for the ivory and ebony keys of a piano, but just as the feeling arrives the flight attendant calls up your flight and you have to pack up. 

 The plane is only half full, so you get a row to yourself. Resting your feet across the two free seats is a little uncomfortable, you’ll admit as much, but the feeling of having the piano at least on your computer is settling some of the itch. 

-----

Mat comes alone to pick you up from the airport. He’s standing in the parking lot leaning against his car. The second he hears you approaching he looks up from his phone, pockets it and meets you halfway. Immediately he hugs you tight.

“Hi babe, I missed you.” 

He says with a low voice into the scarf wrapped around your neck. You just hug him tighter. The tension that took a hold of your body during the layover, is releasing from your body. Mat’s entire being is like a weighted blanket covering you. 

When he lets you go, you miss his warmth, but it’s short lived. He picks up the bag you dropped to the snow covered ground and puts in the trunk before opening the passenger door for you. Upon entering the car, you are engulfed in everything Mat and warmth. 

“You gonna tell me what’s going on with your family?”

You sigh at the question, knowing it was going to come sooner or later. To be honest you’re glad he asked now, and not back home, back with his family. It’s just, how do you explain the entire messy situation to Mat, without getting pity points? You don’t want to feel like some charity case or, even worse, like some spoilt child who can’t handle the situation.

Instead of dwelling over it for too long, you decide to jump into it as he starts the car and enters the freeway. 

“My dad is cheating on my mom, and she found out last night. I think they were up the entire night just arguing. I just left a note on mom’s bed with the number of both a divorce lawyer as well as a couples therapist.”

You rant off, state it matter of factly. Trying to shut off your emotions. 

“Are you okay Y/N?” 

Mat asks. Simple as that. He asks you if you’re okay, and you can’t quite handle it. The tears are pressing on behind your eyes. And you look out the window, trying to hold them back. But when he puts a hand on your thigh, you let the first tear fall. 

“No.” 

And it really is as simple as that. You’re not okay. And you hate it. Just in that second your phone starts ringing in your back pocket.

“Sorry.”  

You say as Mat looks at you. He just gives you a soft smile. You check the caller id, and see it’s your mom. Quickly you clear your throat and wipe your tears away. 

“Hello mom.” 

You answer, trying to sound neutral. 

“Y/N, where are you? Did you go to one of your friends here? I can’t find any of your things.” 

She sounds confused to be honest. 

“Yeah no, I left, I’m on my way to my boyfriend’s house.” 

You hear her suck in a breath. Probably trying to calm down. You do the same, hoping for a calm conversation. 

“You didn’t tell me you had a boyfriend? Where are you?” 

You sigh, know it’s gonna be a long conversation. 

“No, I know, I didn’t tell you on purpose. He lives in New York usually, but he’s from Canada.” 

Ideally, you know, this would be a conversation to have with Mat, about why you haven’t told them about him, before you had it with your mother. 

“You’re in Canada?” 

“Yes.” 

“Well, what does he do then?” 

“Mom..” 

You start to avoid the question, but she interrupts you. 

“No, I want to know what he does that makes you think it’s okay for you to run away from your family right before christmas.”

In that second, just a split second, you get a little fight in you. 

“First of all, it wasn’t his call, he invited me, when I called him. Originally I was just gonna go back to New York. Alone. Second of all, I am not interested in spending christmas around you and dad when you can’t figure out your lives. Third of all, he makes me feel safe and appreciated and I can’t imagine being anywhere else right now.” 

You can feel the tears streaming down your face, but you don’t care. 

“Fine, if you are going to be like that then.” 

“I am gonna be like this mom.” 

“Fine.” 

She says, and then she hangs up the phone. And to be honest you’re kind of glad she did. 

“That sounded rough.” 

You nod and close your eyes. You don’t want things to be this way. You truly don’t, but it the way it is. 

“You didn’t tell them about me?” 

Mat asks. Possibly sounding hurt. 

“No, I was scared that they were gonna be who I know them to be, especially upon finding out that you play hockey for a living.”

He sinks a bit back in the driver’s seat.

“You think they wouldn’t like me?” 

He definitely sounds hurt. 

“I think they would like your image, your paycheck and what you could do for them publicly.”  

You answer earnestly. Before continuing. 

“They want a solid paycheck and all the nice things in life. The things that prove that they’ve got a lot of money, and that about sums it up.” 

“Oh, well that’s not good.” 

Letting out a sad chuckle, you nod your head. You can tell you’re closing up on his house because he seems to be driving slower now.

“I hope you know I’m not into you for the paychecks.” 

“No I know-”  

He turns and smiles at you. 

“You’re in this, for the amazing sex, eh?”

“Oh, for sure.”  

You smile and take his hand.

---

Waking up is always kind of heavier in the winter, but with Mat’s arms wrapped around you in the morning, it’s just something else. You fell asleep in one of his hoodies and flannel pj pants. You’ll admit it, it is a bit too warm, but hell it’s so worth it. 

You can feel him behind you, bare chest rising slow and steady. Soft snores escape him every now and then, but his arm around your waist stays there. Mindlessly, you start tracing shapes and letters on the back of his hand. You feel his hand start twitching, and all of a sudden he squeezes you tight and pulls you on top of himself. 

“I love you too.” 

He smiles up at you with his bleary eyes. Your cheeks heat up. You didn’t think he’d actually notice the letters you had been spelling out on his hand. So you hide your face on his shoulder and stay there. Just placing small, light kisses there. 

“Can you say it? Like out loud?” 

He asks you, quietly. 

“That I love you?” 

Immediately you feel him smile into your hair. 

“I love you Mat Barzal.” 

And you swear, you can feel his heart skip a beat in his chest.  

“Merry Christmas, by the way.” 

You say, feeling content. This is by far the best Christmas morning you’ve had, and you haven’t even gotten out of bed. 

“Oh shit, it’s Christmas morning!”

And before you know it, the light is on, and he’s out of bed and pulling on a shirt and a pair of sweats. He turns and looks at you expectantly. 

“Well, aren’t you coming?” 

He asks, moving in your direction. Mat all but drags you out of the bed and barely let’s you go to the bathroom to brush your teeth, before meeting his family downstairs. And it’s a glorious sight that meets your eyes. The christmas tree is decorated with little lights and different colour baubles?, as well as glitter. It looks homemade, and not like the perfectly decorated trees that have made their mark on your childhood. 

The sight of it causes you to stop dead in your tracks. God, how you love the normalcy of this. The morning is filled with laughter, jokes and copious amounts of hot chocolate. It’s not until the end of the gift unwrapping, that Mat slips away from you, claiming that he has to go to the toilet. 

He returns a few minutes later, carrying a big box wrapped in paper. It doesn’t take you long to notice that all eyes are on you. 

“Maty, I told you no gifts.”

You sigh, but you can’t help the smile that creeps onto your lips as you see how giddy he is. 

“I know I know, and originally I was going to stick to it, but I saw this in the store and I know you said you’d manage without it, but I just couldn’t help myself.” 

And as you listen to him rant his heart out to you, realization dawns on you. 

“You didn’t seriously..” 

Your sentence trails off as you watch him carefully place the box down on the dinner table. 

“Please, just open it?” 

And he knows you could never resist his pleading, just as well as you do. Nodding, you head to the table and start unwrapping the way too expensive gift. Soon the logo of the electric keyboard begins to unravel to you, and tears are seriously prickling behind your eyes.You pull the sleeves of the hoodie over your hands and wipe the tears away.

“Mathew, this is seriously the best christmas gift I have ever gotten.”

You mumble. He comes over and wraps you up in his arms again, and you can feel him smiling, how his entire being is happy, and maybe a little proud of himself. His mom and dad gush over how cute the two of you are, whilst Liana rolls her eyes with a fond smile. 

“Well, why don’t you play us something sweetie?” 

Mats mother asks you carefully once you unwrap yourself from Mat. 

“Yeah, I can do that.” 

And just like that the living room is cleared enough for you to set up the keyboard along with a chair from the kitchen. You even go back upstairs and find the chords you have written down for the song you wrote in the airport.

Testingly, you play a few chords. That is the moment you notice how quiet they’ve all gotten, so you decide to speak up, just to shake the nerves a little. 

“Okay, so this is kind of a rushed song, I wrote it on my way here, but I do hope you like it.” 

And then you start playing the first notes. You do love how the keys seem to find their way to you right away, like you’ve been playing this keyboard for a long time already. And then the words spill from your mouth. And you just sing. 

Careful what you say

This time of year

Tends to weaken me

And have a little decency

And let me cry in peace

But there's a place where I

Erase the challenges I've been through

Where he knows every corner

Every street-name

All by heart

And so it is a part of my

Courageous plan to leave

With a broken heart

Tucked away under my sleeve

I wanna find home for Christmas

Let me find home this year

I wanna find home for Christmas

Let me find home this year

I'll pack my bags

And leave before the sun rises tomorrow

'Cause we act more like strangers for each day

That I am here

But I have someone close to me

Who never will desert me

Who remind me frequently

What I I can truly be 

And so it is a part of my

Courageous plan to leave

With a broken heart

Tucked away under my sleeve

I wanna find home this Christmas

Let me find home this year

I wanna find home this Christmas

Let me find home this year

I don't know what my future holds

But I know who will love me

I can’t tell you where I'm from

But this one loved me to life

And so it is a part of my

Courageous plan to leave

With a broken heart

Tucked away under my sleeve

I wanna find home this Christmas

Let me find home this year

I wanna find home this Christmas

Let me find home this year

Playing the finishing keys, you look up from the keys, and see both Liana and Nadia smiling through a few tears. Mike is holding his wife close as he smiles at you. But Mat, he looks at you like you hung the stars in the night sky. 

Quickly you get up from the chair and wrap your arms around his neck. Closing your eyes, just letting yourself be completely enveloped in him. 

For a second though, he pulls slightly away, just enough so he can look you in the eyes. 

“I love you so much, and you’ll always have a home with me.”

Your heart swells ten times bigger than what your chest is made to encompass. 

“I know. I love you too.”

[irwinkitten]

pizza party | m.c

notes: so i had @cashtonasfuck and @pxrxmoore around today and i got struck by pizza delivery guy!michael because we had pizza and our driver was called Michael and yeah. It’s kinda short n sweet, basically I wrote this in less than three hours lmao. word count: 1.7k warnings: soft fluff with a side of lashton.

donate to my ko-fi?

-

It had started with the job he’d taken at eighteen, delivering pizzas to make some extra money. His parents had never minded, but Michael knew they’d expected more from him. But he was working on it, but bringing in some income certainly stopped them from disparaging him immediately.

But four years later, he’d kept the job as his other nine to fives fell through. It had been the most consistent bit of income that he’d managed, and now he did it as extra money after the app he had developed had taken off and he worked on his own timetable.

On his routes, every week there was one place he delivered to around the same time every week. Four large pizzas, one veggie supreme, one meatball feast, one pepperoni and one plain cheese. 

The first time Michael had met you, you’d given him one of the best tips that night, almost fifty dollars to his amazement.

“Hey, you probably get the worst end of the stick some time. Have a good night.” With that, you’d share shy smiles as he thanked you and took the tip. 

“You’re definitely my favourite customer.” The answering laugh he’d received made him feel good. He’d always enjoyed making people laugh, the small burst of pride was worth it. 

For months he always ran that route. And the guy at the pizza place knew better than to give that order to anyone but Michael. They didn’t know about the tips but he’d frequently told them about something the two of you had exchanged. By month two, you’d finally swapped names and he’d left with a joke for you and wishes for a nice evening with your friends.

Soon the small five minute interactions grew to ten, for it to go to fifteen before you were found by one of your friends nearly half an hour after you’d gone to answer the door because you’d been the last one on his route before he was clocking off for the night.

This went on for months. Some evenings being a quick dash because he had more pizzas to deliver and other evenings being longer because he was nearly at the end of his shift.

Then suddenly the order for pizzas stopped. 

And on those Friday nights, he wondered what had happened for it to stop. 

When he’d complained to Calum in a playful manner, Calum had cheekily suggested to go around and find out what the problem was.

“You do realise that it’s things like that which make people fear for their genuine safety, right? We’re not about to be a creep city.” Michael had immediately fired back and Calum had quickly apologised.

After a couple of months, there was a different order. Veggie supreme and a pepperoni pizza to your address on a Saturday night. Keeping his fingers crossed, Michael had knocked on the door, only to be greeted with a blonde haired man, his hair dishevelled and some dark circles under his eyes.

“Hey chicken, pizzas here!” He called back and you appeared at his elbow, eyes falling upon Michael and he let out a breath of air, but he couldn’t explain the sinking feeling in his stomach.

“Still on shift I guess?” You asked quietly and he heard your voice crack, almost as if you’d been crying. 

“Yeah, so a quick stop for me this week. You’re okay though?” He questioned and you gave him a small smile in return.

“Yeah. Thanks Mike.” He didn’t miss how your eyes watered when you took the pizzas from his hands and fled from the front door. The blonde haired guy sighed.

“Thanks man.” He handed the tip over and the door was closed in his face and Michael wasn’t too sure what he was feeling, but he definitely noticed that the need to settle in and binge on ice cream was definitely tied with how he was feeling.

And so began the Saturday night runs rather than Friday night ones. 

Occasionally blondie, who he’d learned was called Luke would answer the door, other times it was you, but you never stayed long, and every time Michael saw you, his worry increased because you looked, to simply put it, exhausted.

It seemed that the universe was against you since every time you’d ordered, it was always towards the start of his shift since Saturdays he worked the late shift. 

Sometimes when you showed up to help Luke, he tried to ignore his feelings, deciding it would definitely come off as creepy if he tried anything, not to mention that you clearly had to be dating Luke. But he couldn’t stop the sharp ache that appeared when he had to rush away for his next delivery.

But then a different man opened the door, jet black hair which had been dyed, and a face of thunder as he studied Michael before it clicked and he started grinning.

“Are you on a late shift again?” The question threw Michael for a loop, but he shook his head. “Good, hey babe! Cute pizza boy is on his last pizza call.” This time, Michael felt confused. Was this your boyfriend? 

Suddenly, Luke appeared with you being practically frog marched to the front door, your eyes studying the floor.

“When you get them to actually talk, we’ll let you both in for this pizza.” The door slammed shut and Michael was not only confused but concerned. You, however, scowled at the door before sitting on the doorstep, so he hesitantly did the same.

“Bad day?” 

“No, just pushy friends who think that because they're in love, I need to go for my happiness.” Michael immediately blushed before letting out a breath of air.

“Sometimes going for your happiness isn’t so bad... but your friends could maybe lay off a little.” You snorted at his words before shifting and resting your head on his shoulder.

Michel stiffened, definitely feeling confused and this time concerned that this was some kind of prank or dream, but you didn’t move.

“I’m your cushion now?” He hesitatingly asked, earning a snort from you. And then it fell back into the attitudes you shared with each other before you’d not ordered anything for weeks.

“Since you’re surprisingly comfortable, yes. Also you haven’t been my weekly therapist for a while.” There was a bitter laugh added on from you, but Michael heard the hurt in your voice.

“Didn’t realise that my drivers license also included therapy.” He teased and this time you giggled.

“Only for your favourite customer though, no one else.” You added on quickly.

“Of course. My favourite customer could probably get away with murder and they’d still be my favourite.” He nudged you in return and you gave off a soft laugh which transformed into a sob, the noise startling and alarming Michael.

Unsure of what to actually do, he simply let you cry on his shoulder, offering a tissue as you offloaded the emotions before sucking in sharp breaths to get the sobs under control. He didn’t know what he could say, but once you started to calm down, he held his hand open to you, and felt his lips curve into a smile as you took it.

“So since I’m your therapist this evening, what happened to cause that?” 

And suddenly you were talking. You were talking about the group of friends who had come around every week for pizza, how they had been your solid friends for years and how they’d broken your heart, started rumours and spread lies and how everyone else had either had a go at you, blown up at you or just ignored you.

And he felt his heart break a little for you as you told him everything they did or said. And now the lack of pizza nights made sense.

“Is it bad of me to say I’m glad it was those friends and not the two in your house? I kinda suspected you and blondie were together and that he’d hurt you.” The tease was enough to earn him a weak and watery giggle.

“Luke? Nah, he and Ashton have been together for the three years. They’re my best friends and the only ones who haven’t abandoned me. They stayed the last couple of weeks because I just wasn't functioning. Luke refused to leave and Ashton stayed because he knew his boyfriend was right. They’ve been the best to me.” You admitted quietly and Michael squeezed your hand gently.

“Good. I’ve been worried about you. Seeing you in near tears the last few weeks has kinda sucked.” The admittance was met with a gentler hand squeeze from you and a softer sigh.

“Reckon you’d share those worries over dinner with me on Monday night?” The question had caught Michael off guard for a moment, his brain catching up to your words.

“Like a date?” He wasn’t sure what prompted him to make the clarification, but you chuckled and finally moved your head off his shoulder to look at him.

He studied the way your eyes had rimmed red and the tears had dried on your cheeks, but he still felt his heart leap as you offered him a small smile.

“Exactly like a date. And even if that doesn’t work, I want us to be friends. You seem wonderful and I’m annoyed that I didn’t get your number sooner.” This made Michael laugh at your almost rueful look.

“I guess it’s a date then. Want me to pick you up at a particular time?” 

“They’ll be ready by six at the latest!” Came through the door and you groaned, before sighing.

“They mean well, I promise.” Michael simply shook his head before standing up and helping you up.

“I get it. It’s good to have them, even if they’re too curious.” He raised his voice a little, only to earn muffled laughter in return.

“So, see you the day after tomorrow?” And the way your voice had turned shy and your fingers fiddling with the hem of your shirt, he felt his heart melt a little bit.

“Absolutely. I’ll be here for six and we’ll go somewhere fun, no pizza involved at all.” And the easy smile that he gave, seemed to relax you as the door opened and both Luke and Ashton stood with wide grins.

“See you then Mikey.” You called to him as he made his way back to the car, calling his own farewell in return before the door shut and he sat in his car for a moment before he felt the butterflies erupt.

Now he had a date to plan.

-

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[enkisstories]

The android cemetery (Chapter 21)

Three persons were standing the DPD’s evidence archive, two men and a child. They were looking up towards the androids that hung there on display like a bunch of pirates after a hanging. Each of the visitors had different reasons for wanting to be anywhere else than here tonight, yet neither could turn their eyes from the sight.

At least the other two had each other, Connor thought. And indeed Gavin Reed’s hand was resting on Emma Phillips’ shoulder for some time now, an unusual admittance of weakness. The girlchild was staring her caretaker into its dead eyes, her father’s killer who had caused her trauma and therapy sessions for more than a year. Yet she was mourning them both, the lost father and the digital godfather and the fact that she did miss Daniel when by right she should not, was causing Emma additional pain. Gavin simply saw the spitting image of his husband in the PL600, only dead and covered in his own blood. He was also reliving a rather strange night at the muncipal landfill, but by now the events were already appearing as rather funny when looked at in retrospect. And because that was so, Gavin’s grip on Emma’s shoulder had turned from grasping for a hold into a firm and re-assuring one. Connor Anderson, the final trespasser in the archive that night, wished for a hand to hold his, too. He’d even accepted Gavin’s. Of the trio the deviant was having it the worst. Connor wasn’t seeing loved ones he had lost or was fearing for, no, he was seeing his own kills, the government-approved murders of not just innocents, but of victims of crimes. And no amount of feeling sorry for what he had done in his machine-incarnation would bring the dead androids back to life. What was worse, Connor also saw his own future. If he wasn’t careful around the clock, if he ever got exposed as a deviant himself, the RK800 might end up in here, too, one day. Of course Connor had both friends and allies, but sometimes even the Underground Airline could not react quickly enough to get a deviant out of the country. Shit happened, the danger was real.

Eventually Gavin spoke up: “The sightseeing’s over, kid, time to deliver you back home. Cherish that you got to see a place the other school trip kids won’t ever!”

Emma tried to respond, but her nose had been full for a good while now, her cheeks and forehead hot and her eyes blurred. When she opened her mouth, instead of words sobs emerged.

“I c… c… caaaaaan’t!” Emma cried. ”Can’t leave him like that!”

“He’ll be here for eight more years”, Connor supplied from near the door.

“What?”

The RK800 closed in on man and child.

“That long evidence needs to be kept”, he said softly. “It’s the law.”

“A… afterwards…?” Emma asked and her mouth stayed open after finishing.

“Returned, if proven to be no threat to owners and society…”

Exactly that Daniel was not, Emma knew.

“…otherwise destroyed.”

“Much can happen in eight years”, Connor felt the need to say. “Even if it doesn’t look likely now. You can live your life with no change for a long time and suddenly everything will turn upside down in the span of a few days.” The android cast a brief glance towards his rival and co-worker, then smiled. “We know”, he said. After all, Gavin was dating - no, living with! - an android now and Connor himself had caught deviancy. Shit, Connor thought, why should the sucker always have it better between the two of them? Gavin had acquired a boyfriend while he had contracted a mental illness? It wasn’t fair!

“Can I take a picture of Daniel?” Emma asked weakly.

“Yes”, Connor said automatically, for what could it hurt?

“No!” Gavin shouted, but it was already too late. Emma had her phone out and pointed at the PL600 corpse that she was to take for Daniel’s. She flicked open the case with her thumb, tapped an app and then something inside it.

A familiar voice, the same installed in Chloe-type androids, announced for all to hear:

“The PL600 autonomous device is already running.”

It was the CyberLife app that came with the purchase of every android, the detectives realized. And Emma just now had tried to re-activate Daniel!

“What?!” Connor sputtered. It wasn’t the most lucid or helpful remark in this situation, but that was what deviance got you.

“That’s why I said no!” Gavin yelled. “She was co-raised by Danny, of course she’d have some serious tricks up her sleeve!”

“This isn’t Daniel!” Emma whispered. “It’s a different android!”

It wasn’t the fact that the archived android had not come to life again. Dead was dead and Emma had known beforehand that there was a chance her plan would not work. Sometimes an object was damaged too badly to get repaired. But the app was claiming it could not switch on the android registered in it, because it already was up and running.

“This isn’t him”, Emma repeated. “And Daniel is…”

The girl checked the app. “…somewhere around here!” she exclaimed triumphantly when a red dot appeared on a very rough map of Detroit.

“That shouldn’t be possible,” Connor exclaimed. “Deviance nukes the CyberLife tracker!”

“You’re right”, Gavin said. “Except… except if he re-established the connection manually after deviating.”

“But he wouldn’t!”

“Shit, man, this is Daniel we’re talking about!” Gavin shot back. “Of course he would have done that! The Phillips were his family and a pathetic phone app tried to break his connection to them? My man wouldn’t have let that shit fly!”

“Yeah, you’re right”, Connor had to admit. “In fact, he’ll probably have tried to do something painful to the phone in retaliation.”

Meanwhile Emma was looking at a set of coordinates on her phone’s display. She entered it into a dedicated topography software. The freeware didn’t provide the most precise maps in the world, but pointed to a group of apartment complexes in Detroit. One of those houses had to be where Daniel… yes, what? Was hiding? Getting held against his will? Rotting away in the basement, left to the rats? Or getting salvaged piece by piece by a janitor? Or maybe the android was living in peace, passing as a human, going to work every day and feeding the fishies when he returned home in the afternoon? And which of those scenarios did Emma want to be the real one?

With unsteady fingers the girl planned a route via public transport. At this point the adults had the sense to close in on her - but Emma dodged and dashed towards the exit.

“Close the door!” Gavin shouted.

Without thinking, Connor reacted. He mentally triggered the closing mechanism, that obeyed instantly. The only problem was that Emma had already slipped through when the two men reached the – now firmly shut – door.

“Open the door, Connor”, Gavin sighed.

A little later a car left the police station, searchlight ablaze and horn howling. Nobody payed it any heed. This was a police station, after all.