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spencers-renaissance · 3 years ago

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Rain is a Chance to be Touched Ch.7

a poem begins in the lump in the throat

Chapter Six

This is the seventh chapter in my ongoing hotchreid fic! Please click here for the fic summary, full tags, trigger warnings, more information etc.

Last Chapter: Aaron went to Spencer's apartment and found him in a depressive state. Lots of cuddles and comfort ensued.

In This Chapter: Aaron and Spencer go to a museum with Jack, but it is definitely not a date. And Spencer's depression definitely does not get in the way.

TW: same as usual — as well as additional ones for a trigger scene and depictions of caring.

Word Count: 4.8k

RCT Masterlist // Main Masterlist // Read on AO3

SPENCER

A poem begins in the lump in the throat, a sense of wrong, a homesickness, a lovesickness. — Robert Frost

The day after Aaron had turned up at his flat, he’d rung Penelope who had not-so-guiltily confessed to sending him his way. He wasn’t upset though, quite the contrary. A kind, cuddly, caring Aaron showing up in the middle of a minor depressive episode was exactly what he needed, and the evening they’d spent together had burned its way onto the tissue of Spencer’s heart. It was one of the happiest moments he’d experienced in a long time, despite the weighty, persistent, downward tug on his mood.

He’s been over every day the team has been home in the two weeks since, Penelope taking over when he’s away, and as exhausting as Spencer has found human company in the past year, neither Aaron’s nor Penelope’s presence drains him in the way everyone else’s has. They accept his low mood, not blinking an eye when he doesn’t have the energy to respond to something they say or when he zones out and stares blankly at the wall for minutes at a time. He can’t even find it in him to care that both of them have seen him naked now.

Their company starts to chip away at the glacier of loneliness that had spread itself across his chest, inching its freezing border ever closer to the corners of his ribcage as he pulled away and watched everyone else do the same. Aaron and Penelope simply aren’t having it, and their determination to show him love and friendship and warmth is slowly but surely melting his isolation to a puddle on the floor, soon to dry out and be forgotten.

Penelope had come with him to his first psychiatrist appointment, though she’d sat in the waiting room this time, and it had been incredibly relieving to be able to properly let go of some of the heavy burden that had weighed so heavily on his shoulders all this time. He’d kept him on the same antidepressants Dr Reese had prescribed him, and although he hadn’t felt a huge difference yet, Dr Parker was incredibly reassuring and he was trying not to assume defeat so early in the game.

He did feel slightly better, though, as he came out of the dip in his depression that had come on the day after his day out with Penelope. Once Aaron had noticed his mood brighten and his energy levels increase slightly — evidenced largely by Spencer not immediately falling asleep on the sofa when he comes back in from work — he’d suggested getting out of his apartment and doing something.

Spencer was apprehensive at first: the idea of willingly putting himself in a position of proximity with strangers and unpredictable circumstances made his skin crawl. But then Aaron had proposed a quiet trip with him and Jack to the Natural History Museum, maybe a walk in the park if the weather was nice. Spencer had found it hard to decline.

The last few weeks had only solidified Spencer’s feelings for Aaron further, intensified by both his persistence in being close to Spencer and his relentless kindness, and he had begun to feel something like real, genuine hope stirring on the surface of his soul.

He’d caught Aaron looking at him a few times when he thought he was asleep or zoned out, and the softness on his face felt reflective of Spencer’s own expression when he looks at Aaron. He couldn’t imagine him being so insistent on taking care of anyone else on the team, and since he’d left the BAU anyway, he had no obligation to be so dutifully kind.

Yet, he shows up before and after work every day the team is in Virginia, no matter how far out of the way Spencer’s apartment is, making sure he eats, showers, has clean clothes. Making sure he knows he’s loved. (Something whispers deep in his heart that maybe that love is the kind he’s dreamed of.)

On bad nights when he was still working at the BAU, he’d hug his knees to his chest and imagine Aaron curled up behind him telling him how much he loved him, telling him that it was going to be alright. He could never look the man in the eyes the next day at work, but that didn’t stop him. It worked better than anything else he tried and now it’s a reality he can’t pinch himself out of.

Truthfully, in the weeks between quitting the BAU and Penelope forcing Aaron and herself back into his life, he’d desperately missed his time in Aaron’s apartment, playing with Jack and pretending his life wasn’t splitting at the seams. The idea of spending a whole day with them — without the added baggage of trying to box up his increasingly untameable depression — was something he actually looked forward to. It’s a nice feeling; admittedly one he hasn’t felt in a long time.

Penelope comes over the morning of the outing.

(“I’m not about to let you flush this down the drain just because you end up having a tough morning,” she’d insisted when Spencer told her she doesn’t need to. “I’ll come over and force you out of bed and into a nice little outfit if I need to. You are going on that date with Hotch. Sorry: Aaron.”

“Shut up,” Spencer had said weakly. “It’s not a date.”

“Irrelevant,” she’d sniffed and levelled him with a glare he couldn’t argue with.)

He’s pretty sure that her insistent and relentless protectiveness and aid is part of her very focused mission to make up the last year to him. In fact, he’s almost certain, considering every time she sees him he’s bombarded with yet another apology and a small present for him. He’s not sure how to get through to her that he’s already forgiven her.

“Have you eaten yet?” she asks as she walks into the living room to see Spencer curled up on the sofa with a blanket pulled over him. He had actually made it to bed last night, but the only way he could pull himself out of bed this morning was to promise himself a few minutes on the sofa, exciting day ahead of him or not.

He shakes his head. “Not hungry,” he sighs, picking at a loose thread of his blanket.

“That’s okay,” Penelope says lightly, dumping her handbag on the armchair before breezing into the kitchen and setting the orchid she’s brought with her on the windowsill. He hopes she knows she’ll be the only person around responsible enough to water it. “We’ll find you something small. How does a little bowl of cornflakes sound?”

“Fine.”

She puts the coffee machine on before bringing him a bowl of cornflakes that is decidedly not little. He hates that her tactic works and he eats the whole thing. “Why do you always have to be right?” he grumbles as he polishes off the bowl and puts it on the coffee table.

“I don’t know, baby genius,” she sighs exaggeratedly, sagging into her armchair. Spencer doesn’t know what he’d do without Penelope Garcia and her incessant dramatics. “It’s truly an affliction.”

“Mhm.” Spencer raises an eyebrow, unimpressed, but Penelope’s saved by the coffee machine beeping and she stalks into the kitchen to pour him a cup. He has no idea how early she wakes up to make it over to his house dressed to the nines with a full face of make-up on at eight am. He smiles fondly at her as he takes the proffered mug. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” she says brightly, sitting back in her chair and sipping at her own cup. “So, how are we feeling about our date today?”

As much as Spencer does not appreciate her suggestive eyebrow waggling, he can’t help but smile at her antics. He also can’t help but blush. “It isn’t a date, Penelope, I’ve told you this.”

“Right, right,” she says drily. “I think I’d have an easier time believing you if you weren’t constantly sending one another heart eyes and weren’t clearly half in-love with one another already.”

Spencer decides it’s probably best to avoid mentioning that his feelings have definitely progressed past the ‘half in-love’ phase, and just looks down. “Jack will be there,” he points out instead, “and the Natural History Museum isn’t exactly a steamy date location, is it?”

“No, that’s exactly the point. It’s a Dr Spencer Reid date location.”

Spencer looks at her a little speechless for a moment. Unfortunately, she’s right. He’s privately thought about getting married in one of DC’s many museums, and science and history are two of the subjects even a casual acquaintance would know he’s fascinated by. Plus, it’s also something he’s bonded over with Jack.

All of that may be the case, but it doesn’t change the fact that he absolutely cannot let himself consider this a date.

He’s already let himself fantasise enough about Aaron returning his feelings; not letting himself think of this as anything other than platonic is the only thing he can hang onto to protect his fragile heart. Getting his hopes up only to find out he’s wrong would crush him, and he can’t risk a devastation of such proportions right now. He’s barely getting out of bed in the morning as it is.

Penelope seems to catch on to his spiralling thought process and leans over to lay a hand on his knee. “Hey, I know it’s intimidating,” she says gently, “and you don’t have to think about it as a date if you don’t want to, especially if you’re apprehensive because he hasn’t said anything explicitly. I just don’t want you to doubt yourself. I promise you he has feelings for you, too, okay? You need to trust me on this one. That man is absolutely gone for you.”

Despite himself, he finds himself smiling at her as her words warm him from the inside out. Even if he knows he has to be careful with his heart, he can’t help the optimism his head conjures up at such a promise from someone he trusts with his life. “Okay,” he whispers shyly.

“Right,” she says, putting her half-empty coffee mug down on the table and gripping Spencer’s free hand to pull him up from his pathetic sprawl across the sofa. “Come on, you. Aaron won’t be long, let’s get you looking at least half-human.”

He only agrees because she lets him bring his own coffee mug with him to the bathroom. She’s a good friend.

Penelope slips out a few minutes before Aaron is set to arrive per Spencer’s request, and he sits nervously on the sofa, waiting for the doorbell to buzz. He’d chosen his favourite shirt and tie combo and gone with a lilac sweater under his smartest navy coat. He holds his scarf in his fidgeting fingers, ready to put it on once they get outside, but he still feels naked. Suddenly, everything that’s riding on this day out fills him with a sort of dread and he feels vulnerable, scared of all the endless ways this could go so wrong.

Before he can spiral properly though, his intercom buzzes and he rushes over to answer it, even though he knows who it is. He’s glad he does, because Jack’s voice crackles its way into the quiet of his apartment. “Spencer, Spencer, come out, we’re here,” he shouts excitedly, and even though Spencer winces at the feedback his high-pitched voice elicits, a fond smile still finds its way onto his face.

“I’m on my way down, buddy,” he says back, with as much enthusiasm as he can muster, before patting his pockets to make sure he has his keys, phone, and wallet. He locks his door carefully and makes his way down to the front of his building. Apprehension balls in a pit in his stomach, but it loosens as soon as he approaches the pair waiting in the cold outside the front door.

Jack runs up to him and he crouches down to give him a big hug, wishing he had the strength and confidence to pick him up and twirl him around like he’s seen Aaron and Derek do so many times. Jack doesn’t seem bothered, though, an excited grin painted across his face as he pulls back from the hug.

“Hey,” Aaron says once Jack has let Spencer go and he stands back up straight. He presses a hand gently to the middle of Spencer’s back and the touch spreads warmth up to his shoulders as he watches the curve of Aaron’s smile. “How are you doing?”

“Rocky morning,” Spencer admits — he’s almost certain Penelope sends Aaron status reports, so lying is pointless. “Penelope helped.”

“She always does,” Aaron says warmly, keeping one hand on Spencer’s back while the other holds Jacks as they walk to the car parked a little way down the street. A little spark of excitement rushes through Spencer’s body as he briefly lets himself think about what casual passers-by might assume about the three of them. “You still up for the Natural History Museum?”

“Of course,” Spencer replies, as brightly as he can, trying to ignore the pull of sorrow still weighing his gut down. “Are you looking forward to seeing the dinosaurs, Jack?”

“Yes!” Jack shouts eagerly, letting go of Aaron’s hand to unzip his little puffer coat to reveal his long-sleeve t-shirt. A big, green t-rex stands out against the blue background, and Jack’s never looked prouder. “Dinosaur, see?”

“I do,” Spencer laughs. “It’s a great shirt, Jack.”

“Hey, let’s zip that coat back up, buddy, well done,” Aaron says gently and Jack does so obediently. “He insisted on wearing it,” he tells Spencer once Jack’s hand is back in his and he’s securely wrapped up. “He wanted to show you.”

They arrive at the car before Spencer can reply, and Aaron opens the passenger door for him to get in before strapping Jack into his car seat and setting him up with a few of his toys, including his favourite dinosaurs. It’s only a fifteen minute journey to the museum, and they pass the first half of it in a comfortable silence, but eventually, Spencer works up the courage to ask the question that’s been at the tip of his tongue the past two weeks.

“How’s work?” he asks, trying to be as innocuous as possible, though his awkward avoidance of Aaron’s eyes probably gives him away.

“It’s good.” He’s clearly treading carefully as he eyes Spencer for a brief moment before he returns his gaze to the road. “We’ve only had one major case since you left, and we muddled our way through it, got it solved. Everyone does miss you, though, Spencer. They really do.”

It’s a concept he still can’t really get his head around. He hasn’t been around for a year, not really, and they didn’t miss him then. It feels almost… convenient, to Spencer. Guilt is not remorse.

“Have you found my replacement yet?” Spencer surprises himself by not feeling any jealousy at the prospect of someone taking his position on the team. He’d long ago accepted how replaceable he is socially, and it’s not like the pool of talented, intelligent prospective agents is exactly small. He also has no desire to be around his old team; not as they were in the build-up to his resignation, not like that. He still has Aaron and Penelope, but he’s only just starting to trust that they’re not going anywhere.

“I think so,” Aaron sighs heavily. “As long as her paperwork goes through, she’ll join the team later this week.”

Spencer nods, not really knowing what to say to that. Aaron reaches his right hand across the console and rests it on top of Spencer’s clasped hands, the warm reassuring weight of not just anyone’s touch but Aaron Hotchner’s turning his insides into a melted puddle as his heart beats faster. He hooks one of his fingers over Aaron’s, a silent message to keep his hand there, and he doesn’t worry about what to say next. Nothing needs to be said.

Spencer knows the Natural History Museum like the back of his hand, so he directs them to the best parking spot before taking the lead and walking them into the gorgeous, open foyer. Jack bounces excitedly between them, so Aaron lifts him onto his shoulders to reduce the likelihood of a disaster.

“It’s not too busy for a Sunday,” Spencer observes, half trying to calm himself down in such an unfamiliar environment, “so we should be able to see everything we want to. Jack, do you want to see the dinosaurs now or later?”

“Now!” he shouts loudly, wiggling as happiness floods his little body. Spencer smiles fondly at the pair, and a little more of the apprehension he’d felt at leaving the house melts away.

“Well how could I refuse that request?” he chuckles, leading them towards the dinosaur exhibit. His breath catches when he feels the back of Aaron’s hand brush the back of his, and in a moment of bold and brash insanity, he interlocks his pinky with Aaron’s. After the moment in the car, he feels such an action is warranted, but as soon as he does it, panic sets in.

Before he can retract his finger though, Aaron takes Spencer’s hand properly. The feeling of Aaron’s big hand gripping his own in a gentle but firm hold makes his stomach dip, and goosebumps find their way up his arms and down his side. He’s never felt safer than right in this moment — never mind the crowds of people they’re passing through; the insecurity of being outside his flat; the uncertainty of what could happen — never mind all of that, because his hand is in Aaron’s and Aaron keeps him safe. He doesn’t trust much anymore, but he will always trust Aaron.

Jack babbles eagerly the whole way to the dinosaur exhibit, repeating some of the facts Spencer had taught him in his previous visits to the Hotchner household in a “did you know?” format, leaving both Aaron and Spencer chuckling fondly, trying to encourage him as much as possible.

Spencer shows them around the exhibit, acting as their tiny group’s personal tour guide, and Jack couldn’t be happier, insisting on walking instead of being carried so he can press his face up as close as possible to the displays, his breath fogging up the glass as he leaves fingerprints all over the cases. They spend nearly an hour walking around the exhibit, playing with the interactive toys and examining each and every display in a close-up fashion.

Once they wrap up their dinosaur exploring, Spencer brings Jack to a bench and asks him what his favourite thing he learned is.

“Uhh,” Jack hums, furrowing his eyebrows in a way that reminds him so much of Aaron it’s almost uncanny, “oh! They were terrible and they were stupid!”

Spencer’s confused for a moment before laughing as he manages to decode what Jack is trying to say. “Dinosaur does translate to ‘terrible lizard’, well done,” he agrees, “and you’re right, they weren’t much smarter than reptiles these days. Good job, Jack!” He raises his hand for a high-five, and Jack doesn’t waste any time in slapping his palm to Spencer’s.

“Can we get ice cream?” he asks eagerly, widening his eyes in a plea as he looks at Aaron who's been observing the unravelling scene from the pillar next to the bench.

“Go on then,” Aaron concedes, grinning at his son’s uncontainable happiness as he wiggles around next to Spencer.

They head to the museum’s cafe and all order ice cream, taking a seat in the middle of the canteen.

“This reminds me of field trips back in school,” Spencer muses, gesturing to the surrounding noise with his spoon.

“Yeah?” Aaron asks while Jack picks distractedly at a scratch on the table, licking his ice cream cone happily.

“Before I was identified as a gifted student and sent years up the grade school ladder, I was a fairly normal kid in a fairly normal school. We went on a field trip to a museum in first grade, and I loved every minute of it. I got to impress all my friends by sharing all my memorised facts about space, and we ate our packed lunches in a canteen like this. My mum was still on her meds back then, and she’d cut all my ham sandwiches into dinosaur shapes.”

Aaron’s smiling at him as he talks, and he realises that it’s probably because it’s the most he’s had to say in weeks, much less something anecdotal and personal. Spencer realises belatedly that it’s the sort of thing one might share on a date, but there’s nothing he can do about it now.

“I’m glad you have nice memories from your early childhood, Spencer,” he says, and his hand reaches across the table to find Spencer’s again. “It’s the least you deserve.”

He averts his eyes as he blushes, suddenly feeling a little overwhelmed by the attention, and focuses on his ice cream for a few minutes before he’s cooled down a bit. “What about you?” he asks, meeting Aaron’s eyes again. “Any field trip memories?”

“I made out with my ninth grade girlfriend at the planetarium once,” he admits quietly, a mirthful chuckle finding its way into his voice.

“Maybe minutely better than dinosaur shaped sandwiches,” Spencer says, a little shyly.

“Ooh, dinosaur sandwiches!” Jack chimes in, suddenly aware of the conversation the adults are having. “Can I have some?”

Spencer’s phone vibrates just as Aaron goes to appease Jack’s enthusiasm for novelty shaped lunch food, and he pulls it out curiously. These days, the only people to text him are Aaron and Penelope, and Penelope had told him she was going out with a friend today.

Hey, pretty boy — Spencer’s heart sinks as he reads the first line of the message, tears immediately springing to his eyes — I’m sorry I haven’t been in touch. Hotch said something about personal stuff going on? Anyway, I thought I’d text you to tell you just how much we miss you at the BAU. Life isn’t the same without you, and it was hard to not even get a chance to say goodbye. Any chance we could meet up at some point? We don’t have to go out if you don’t want to, we can just go grab a coffee or something. D

Aaron must read something off in his face — it’s not exactly like he’s trying to hide it — and he immediately slides closer to him on the circular canteen bench. “Hey, hey, Spencer,” he says soothingly, “you’re alright. What’s going on?” He just slides the phone over to show Aaron the message, and he immediately gets it. “I know that must be overwhelming, and we’re in public which can’t be helping.” He glances over at Jack who’s looking worryingly at Spencer, clearly confused. “Why don’t we go back to our place? Jack and I will help you feel better, won’t we, buddy?”

Jack nods at that, pressing himself into Spencer’s side and wrapping his tiny arms around him. “Yeah, we make you feel better.” He reaches up and clumsily brushes a tear away from Spencer’s cheek before kissing it. It makes his heart warm that this is how Jack treats someone sad: he must be emulating the behaviour adults have shown him in these situations, and Jack only ever deserves the absolute best. Especially after losing his mom.

“Thank you,” he whispers, pressing himself closer to Aaron. Every time he’s upset he seems to lose his inhibitions around him, but he can’t help it. He needs the comfort only Aaron can provide, and after denying his starving heart the love and reassurance it's been begging for for so long, he can’t help but indulge himself now it’s finally an option.

They make their way back to the car and Spencer’s in such a haze of confusing emotion the only thing he can really ground himself in is Aaron’s arm wrapped around his waist and Jack gripping his hand on his other side, sending him worried looks. If he had the wherewithal to feel anything other than a deep sense of grief combined with rising panic he’d feel guilty for ruining such a nice day out, but as it stands he’s spared that particular brand of misery.

The drive back to Aaron’s is a little longer than the first journey of the day, but Spencer just clings to the hand Aaron offered him as soon as they got back in the car and tries desperately not to spin completely out of control and start hyperventilating in front of the five year old strapped into his car seat behind him.

Jack is asked to play in his room for a bit once they get home and he obeys, aware of — if not entirely comprehending — the tension in the air. As Spencer sits on the sofa waiting for Aaron to get back with a glass of water, the grief and panic clear a little. He hates himself for the relentless gravity of his depression: the way it pulls down even the brightest of days, the way he can physically feel his insides being sucked downwards into the blackhole of desolation.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Aaron asks gently as he sits next to Spencer on the couch, close enough that their arms are touching. Self-loathing is the only thing preventing him from leaning into his comfort like he did at the museum, like he did in the car. Instead he pulls away and curls himself as small as possible into the corner of the sofa. When Spencer doesn’t reply, Aaron takes a risk. “Do you think you might be so upset because somewhere, deep down, you want to see Derek too?”

He snaps his head up at that, surprised Aaron would say something so blunt and, as much as Spencer doesn’t want to admit it, truthful. After a good few moments of contemplative and patient silence, his thoughts are ordered enough to voice them. “I miss them all,” he admits quietly. “I desperately want to see Derek. But the Derek I left hurt me so much I wouldn’t know where to even start in trying to reconnect with him.”

Aaron nods in understanding from his spot in the middle of the sofa. Spencer longs for this pit of self-loathing to melt away so he can feel confident enough to crawl back across the cushions and share Aaron’s personal space again.

“That makes a lot of sense, Spencer,” he says, resting a gentle hand on his ankle, and it’s such a casual, intimate touch he doesn’t know what to do with himself. He settles on not moving even an inch, lest Aaron pull his hand away. “For what it’s worth, the others have started to piece together why you left. I know they’re all regretting how everything played out, and everyone on the team misses you sorely.”

Spencer ponders that for a moment. He doesn’t know how it makes him feel: it’s nice to be missed, and a sick sort of vindication flourishes in the less savoury side of him at the idea of the others realising the crippling, world-changing pain he’s been in for the last year, right under their noses.

He misses so much about the others, but that’s not new: he’s missed JJ’s hugs and Derek’s teasing and Emily’s friendship for close to a year now. Sitting at his desk in the bullpen next to Derek and Emily’s private bantering, sharing an inside joke he didn’t understand towards the end of his career at the BAU had cut deep, reminding him just how achingly alone he was.

“I don’t know where to start,” he says hopelessly, feeling like he’s repeating himself. Tears spring to his eyes again, spilling down his cheeks relentlessly, as though the second he’d let one fall, they toppled down his face like river water desperate to escape, unsure of when the dam will close again.

Aaron scoots himself over to Spencer’s end of the sofa like he can’t help himself, and this time he lets himself fold into Aaron’s warm embrace. He cries as quietly as possible, but it’s hard when he doesn’t have the energy to do anything other than sob helplessly. He can hear himself; he knows he sounds like a broken, defeated man, but he simply doesn’t have the power to care.

As his sobs start to dry out, he sees that Aaron is crying, too. He’d noticed his wet eyes the last few times he’d cried in his presence as well, and he has no idea how to feel about it. If Aaron is seriously going to cry every time he does, though, then he’d better strap in.

“Why don’t you have a nap?” he suggests, wiping a tear from the sensitive skin under Spencer’s eye so tenderly it makes his heart clench. “Then afterwards, we can think of a way to go about this. Maybe we could start with a short text back. How does that sound?”

Spencer nods tiredly, and lets Aaron help him get into a comfortable position on the sofa. A warm, soft throw is draped over him and Aaron half closes the living room blind, but the day is dark and grey enough already anyway. As he’s falling off to sleep, a hot water bottle is tucked under the blanket and he instinctively curls up against the warmth, but he knows that the real comforting soporific is the man reading quietly in the armchair next to him.

For the first time in a long time, Spencer looks forward to waking up.

Chapter Eight

Rereading Penelope in this chapter when I came to edit it made me want to take a second to recognise all of the unofficial carers out there <3 I've been a carer for both my mum and my grandmother at various times in my childhood and teens, and it's tough going. If you're looking after a friend or a family member, please remember how amazing and wonderful you are, and also remember that it's okay if it's too much, and it's okay if you need to cry or scream or break down. You are still just as brilliant no matter your emotional reaction to what is an exceptionally difficult situation to find yourself in. I love you, and I'm always here to talk to you about this (or anything that comes up in this fic!) <3

If this chapter brought anything up for you, hotlines are in the endnotes of the AO3 version of this fic. Bigger countries are listed and a link is included if you live somewhere else in the world. I love you <3

taglist: @criminalmindsvibez @suburban--gothic @strippersenseii @takeyourleap-of-faith @makaylajadewrites @iamrenstark @hotchseyebrows @reidology @i-like-buttons @spencerspecifics @bau-gremlin @hotchedyke @tobias-hankel @goobzoop @marsjareau @garcias-bitch @marvel-ous-m @oliverbrnch @sbeno22 @aaron-hotchner187 @kuolonsyoja

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thatcnamomnwife · 4 years ago

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Well, hello!

I really just wanted to check out this app because I don’t know anyone really who blogs here... maybe I could meet new people make friends I can chat with. I don’t work anymore and I have very little company. My ex husbands wife has come to visit and let our youngest boys play together and my family has come in and out to help keep things up in the house. I broke my leg in a car accident in October. I still can’t walk.

I laugh about it now because my two other siblings here have both been in worse car accidents and walked away with scratches. My brother was knocked unconsious and woke up and walked 2 miles home. I hit a tree to avoid hitting the back end of a truck that was stopped in a work zone and when I hit the break popped back and broke my ankle tib and fib... I knew I had broken it but was not aware of how bad it was. My EMT was wonderful in keeping me calm. I heard comments when I got to the hospital about it being really bad but I didn’t want to see the damage. They knocked me out and put me into surgery. I woke up with a fixater on my leg. The next night after I asked for pain meds 3 or 4 times in a row because the Dilaudid didn’t work, my assigned surgeon came in and examined my leg. I had compartment syndrome and needed a fasciotomy asap. so the next time I woke up I still had the fix and then my leg was completely wrapped. Every time I tried to do physical therapy I would. Bleed everywhere. I found out I had two huge gaping cuts in the side of my leg and 2 equally gaping cuts in the top of my foot. In the hospital I tried my best to keep up hope that this would all be over soon. My friends at work (I’m a CNA) got ahold of me and cheered me on the get better and come back to work soon. But here I am. It’s February and I’m still wheelchair bound and not walking. The way my surgeon fixed my leg set it to where my toes almost faced the ground and my ankle is now fixed as if its ready for a stiletto. I have worked hard to get to rotate my ankle and lift my toes a little bit and as my physical therapy has me working on the they are working on lifting this deep scar on top of my foot.

It sucks to have to depend on everyone else to get help. I can do some things on my own. But I can’t cook my own food by myself. I can do dishes actually but it’s really hard. I can move from place to place with my walker. But since I’m on one leg it’s hard and I wear out fast. I can’t go anywhere unless someone takes me. Sitting in a car is hell because I lose circulation in my leg easily. If I get annoyed with my husband or my kids get on my nerves I can’t just go outside.

I spent the first month crying. Every day. I’m not kidding. I cried even harder Every appointment because my surgeon is a straight forward kinda guy. My home health nurse came in and saw that I was cracking and she suggested I act for a low dose antidepressant and I just gave and said yea. I’m tired of crying. Well it’s worked so far. I still get mad and throw fits and cry but I think that’s just me being human and besides that anyone in the medical profession is bound be make a horrible patient.

I am a lot better now. In fact despite the fact that my leg still doesn’t work, I’m in ok spirits. I miss my job, my residents, and most of my coworkers. I worked through what I feel is the worst part of COVID in my area and I worked while I had it. I was so proud of my self for not giving up in that mess. I miss the hard work. I wanna go back but I know I will never get to run around like I did before. It just sucks.

But in the midst of this whole crap show my husband and I got married in December! It was a beautiful low cost home wedding and my family couldn’t come because they were quarantined but we had our other loved ones there. I won’t lie I looked amazing in my wedding dress and my hair and makeup was gorgeous. Nothing has changed since we got married. We are still bickering at each other but at the end of the day I love him and he loves me. We have been through it all in these 6 years and I wouldn’t have him any other way. He’s lazy. He frustrates me but he is a good man and a good dad to our son. My daughters love him. My oldest calls him dad. And he has pretty much jumped trough hoops for them since he met them. We are all a happy family and I love my life. I just don’t like where I’m at in my life.

I have 3 kids. My oldest is 14 and she’s a type 1 diabetic. Shes a hormonal teen with diabetes. We have blood sugar issues every day. Hormones raging. She recently got grounded for not doing her chores and lying about her blood checks and she lost it over not being on the phone for a few days. But damn she is smart. She wants to be a mortician when she graduates college. She passes state testing like it’s nothing. And she’s a complete music lover. She was the 18th chair in junior all region choir last year. She was the youngest in her group to get in. So I brag on her a lot. My middle child is a lot of energy and she frustrates me. She’s 10 and she’s been stuck in this stage where she acts like she doesn’t have common sense. We’ve taught her how to use the washer and dryer several times and this kid still says she don’t know how to use it. She’s the one who argues even if she knows she’s wrong she will still try to make you think she’s right. She will agree to something one minute and then get mad about it later. She will not brush her hair and she does this on purpose because she claims is a part of her personality. She also recently told me she’s bisexual. She’s a good kid though. Teachers and kids at school love her she don’t get in trouble ever. And she’s also a smart kid! She excelled in school to the highest. I’m very proud of my girls.

My son is 4 and he is a big ball of adhd. He bounces off walls and he’s very violent. We have been trying to get him evaluated so we can get him on proper meds before kindergarten but It hasn’t happened yet. But he’s also a sweet kid. He is very smart too. He knows all of his colors and can count to 10. He knows his name. But he tells you he’s 400 years old instead of 4 lol.

My mom and sister are both life savers to me. They have taken care of me through this. When I need them they are there. My brother prefers to live his own life and visit at moms with me from time to time. But I love him. I miss him.

My dad left my mom when I was 13. He caught up with my half sister. Fell in love with his ex wife and moved away. I have seen him 4 times since he left and the last time I saw him was when I was 19 and pregnant with my oldest child. He’s never met my kids in person and he’s only spoken to my oldest on the phone once. 2 years ago he disappeared after planning to come stay on my moms property to get back on his feet and get proper medical treatment. He asked our side of the family for money (like $1000) and none of us had that. So he tried to make us feel bad and then never contacted us again. I’ve heard fromy step sisters that he’s been spotted here and there but we honestly Don’t know where he is, what he’s doing and if he’s even alive. I hate to say it but it doesn’t bother me anymore. I used to break down thinking about him dying and not knowing. Now I feel different. He’s been gone most of my life now.

I also have this best friend who is more than my best friend. She’s my soul. This girl has helped me through some of the worst parts of my life. She and I don’t get to see each other very often but we are always family to each other. She and I talk almost daily. I just love her.

That’s my family though. It’s a hot mess but it’s mine and I love it. At the end of every day I am blessed because I’m loved and cared for.

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letterstotheone-whomilovemost · 4 years ago

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12/31/2020 (14 months after the event)

Happy New Years!

It has been a rather weird year, hasn’t it? While some days from this year feel like they were only yesterday, others feel like half a decade ago. To be quite frank, the same applies to the last time I saw you. I’m sure if you saw this you would go “blah blah, you say the same thing every time you write.” While this is true, I can’t help it. I started taking new medication, as of 14 days ago. My psychiatrist, I have one of those now-- along with a therapist haha, recommended me getting put on escitalopram for my severe anxiety. It’s always been pretty bad, but over the course of the past 14 months, it has skyrocketed pretty high. Isn’t it strange how our minds develop as we get older? Survival of the fittest? Or is it just adaptation? The human body is pretty neat, let alone our brain.

I was going through my photos the other day, and got the sudden urge to delete all of them. Of course, I’m not as crazy as just upright deleting them-- so I uploaded all of them onto a drive, and then deleted them from my phone. All of them. Decided it was time for a fresh start, why not start with the one thing I open every day, right? I decided earlier today, about a week after I deleted all of my photos, that I would go into my drive to try and find a photo from September that I downloaded from a manga I was reading. Of course I got sidetracked, I scrolled to 2014 and was going through all of my old photos with my brother and my family, and then suddenly I got to 2017 and there it was. The black and white photo of you and I at the parking deck, both of us laughing as hard as we possibly could. I smiled softly of course, as the beautiful memory came rushing over me. But then something hit me. For some reason, this isn’t how I remember you. My brain forgot what you looked like, or at least started trying to. It’s been about a year since I last saw a photo of you. While the brain is so incredibly amazing, it has a bad habit of memories starting to fade, especially when it’s a person attached to bad memories as well. It works in some cases, where people are trying to forget-- but even still it does the opposite and leaves the person going “Why can’t I forget you!?”. Strange, right? The human mind is so beautiful. I can still hear you talking to me sometimes, if I try hard enough. Lately, I haven’t been so hard on myself. I’m trying to figure myself out still, and I’ve come to the conclusion that it is okay that I still love you. I know I more than likely always will. That’s what love is, right? Being able to love and never losing that love, no matter what happens.

All of this being said, I figured I would kind of recap everything that has happened in the wonderful year of 2020. It has been one hell of a ride.

January, the month of my brother’s 15th birthday. He was so happy and we all celebrated his birthday with him the following weekend. We also went hiking the same month, while it was cold; my mother, brother, and I had a blast. This month was mostly just working and being lazy on my off days. I had a fall out with my best friend.

February, I had a love hate relationship with this month. I tried dating someone new, I saw that you had gotten in a relationship two months prior and figured it was time for me to try and move on as well. Needless to say, dude was a douchebag and was a very violent individual. I left him within 3 weeks. My birth father, his newlywed wife, my cousin from my favorite uncle, whom I had never met until then, and I all went to Ruby Falls. It was quite a beautiful journey. Whilst I fought with my father, it turned out to be an okay experience. Later in the month, I ended up getting into a fight with my landlord, who was demanding that I pay extra, even though I was not behind on any payments. I ended up cooperating with them, so that I didn’t lose my home. I celebrated my little sister’s fifth birthday.

March, I lost my job. Millions and millions of other people did as well. Covid-19 struck the world. I took it lightly and just assumed that yet again, the media was blowing things out of proportion. My landlord wasn’t understanding of the fact I was put out of work, along with millions of others. They ended up being generous for the month after I showed them statistics. I ended up being lazy, doing nothing but watching Netflix and Disney plus for the entire month.

April, Corona Virus was boring at this point. We had all been told, “Oh! We’ll all be open for business again in the next two weeks!”. That was the first week of March, and it was now April. The government didn’t give us any kind of help until the last week, so that kind of fucked me. I spent most days laying in bed on TikTok. I also got super into streaming in the beginning of this month, and my platform was finally starting to take off.

May, unemployed for two months. I debated taking a job at a warehouse. Unfortunately, the media deterred me from doing so. There was a spike of cases in my state; it was terrifying. I didn’t leave my house much. I got my dog, for the first time in 4 years. It was beautiful, I cried. He was so happy to be back home. I started a routine of watching anime every morning at 7 am and then going for a walk. I wanted to get back into a daily routine, regardless if I had a job or not. I was falling behind on bills, and I really needed to distract myself. I started getting into digital art, rather than traditional, for the first time ever. I stopped making my music.

June, I reconnected with a lot of old online friends from 2013. It was strange and I didn’t really know how to feel about it. It was nostalgic in a way, spending late nights on discord calls. I didn’t really enjoy it all too much, I felt like it all needed to stay in the past. I started anti-depressants, again. This time it was Prozac. It made me feel extremely drowsy, and made me feel out of body most of the time. I tried to date, again. An old friend that I had from 2013, we reconnected and even though they were out of state, I decided-- “Hey, maybe this will be good for me. I don’t have to worry about them getting aggressive with me, we can take things slow, and we can pace ourselves.” Oh man, if only I knew. He flew down to my state, met the family, was extremely respectful and even stayed in a hotel the first trip. Everything seemed to be going okay.

July, my 21st birthday. Did I drink? No. Sounds crazy, right? I had about half a drink, and decided I just didn’t want any. I had stopped taking my antidepressants, the new boyfriend had said that I wasn’t acting right. It fed into my suspicion, that the meds weren’t doing a whole lot for me. They were just making me really sleepy and on edge all the time. The new boyfriend had come down again for my birthday and mother’s birthday, since we share the same birth week. Celebrated with my mom, her best friend, and I. July was pretty hectic, since I had decided I would be moving to West Virginia on August 5, 2020.

August, I moved to West Virginia. I packed up all of my belongings, uprooted everything I had ever known, hugged my family goodbye, and got into the back of a truck with a u-haul attached to it. I rode in the back of the vehicle for 14 hours, fell asleep in Kentucky, woke up in Ohio. It was daylight by the time we approached West Virginia. It was so beautiful, all of the mountains. I was moving into the house in which he lived in, which his sister was next door on one side, and his parents on the other side. We had the nice river breeze, since Ohio river was within eyesight. I lived in the Tri-state area so it was Pennsylvania on one side, Ohio on the other, and us-- five minutes to each state. It was a good first couple of days. Then we got into our first fight. I was unable to work, since I left my car behind. Luckily, I had saved up a bunch of money for me to be able to buy one. He hit me with really low blows, saying I didn’t need to work-- since women weren’t good for that kind of thing. It hurt, to be honest. I had never seen him like this before, in the eight years I had known of his existence. He had been with me in my hometown for three weeks and not once acted like this. I walked on eggshells, bought a car with my hard earned money, then got a management job at the Domino’s that was ten minutes from my town I was living in. Towards the end of the month, he got aggressive with me. He stopped working the same week I had moved in, he had no car. He had no ambition, he decided to just give up. Maybe that’s what I tried to see, maybe-- just maybe I could help him find some ambition. I wanted to save him, in a way? We got into a severe fight, I couldn’t take it anymore-- I fought back, and he ended up swinging on me.

September, I packed all of my belongings that I could into my tiny little Toyota, and left in the middle of the night. I had one thing on my mind, and that was to go to my mom’s house. My mother had known how bad he had gotten, since he acted such a way with my mother on the phone, unknowingly. I drove for 15 hours, well 13 but with rest stops to nap for a bit since I was running off of no sleep, but I finally ended up back home. I ended up staying with my mom for a bit. Later had to relocate, so I moved in with an old friend. Started streaming again.

October, Worked. Literally worked the entire month, my entire existence fell into dread. I became overly aware of how much time had passed. I felt like I had been doing nothing. I dreaded the last day of the month, every day just gave me more and more sadness. I didn’t want the day to come. I started dreaming of you more and more and more. Halloween came, I decided to look at it differently, I started to thank you-- rather than try to hate you. I came to the conclusion that I would never hate you.

November, Thanksgiving! I started to become grateful, moved back into my mom’s house. It was a bumpy ride, but I managed to get back into the habit of doing healthy things. Started going to the gym again, drinking more water. I told my father he was dead to me, haven’t spoken to him since. I got to spend Thanksgiving with my real family, my mother and her best friend’s family. They watched me grow up since the day I was born. It was so much better than any other holiday I had ever had up to this date.

December, I started a new form of medicine. This time it was for anxiety, since that’s the main factor of my illness-- or so we think so far. I am on escitalopram, and I started it the week before Christmas. I got to see my real family again. It was nice, but this time I got to reunite with my childhood best friend for the first time in fifteen years. It was so lovely. I have become almost bedridden again, but it won’t last long-- since it’s just a side effect of my medicine. I also got to see some friends from high school, but then I realized-- they’re the exact same way they’ve been since the beginning. They wanted nothing but to talk about drama. It just isn’t my thing, I don’t like dealing with people much anymore, because of the constant drama. I’ve learned a lot about people changing, and the lack thereof.

I think this year has been a year full of lessons for me, and it has been tough. As they say, there’s no pleasure without pain, no pain no gain, right? This year has taught me a lot about myself and the people around me, and I am extremely grateful for the things I have experienced. I’ve learned so much about who I am as a person. I’ve grown a lot, while this year has kicked my ass. I have high hopes for the next year. For the first time, since 2016, I finally see a future in myself, by myself.

To New Beginnings, Lovebug.

I love you, always.

22:27

#dear lover #dear love #letters to the one i love most #letters to the one i loved most #letters to you

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brajeshupadhyay · 4 years ago

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Emma Allenby was studying for A-levels when she developed a headache that just wouldn’t go away Emma Allenby was studying for A-levels when she developed a headache that just wouldn’t go away. Initially, she blamed the 30-second bursts of intense pain flashing through the top of her head — something she had never experienced before — on revision-related stress. But then one morning, three weeks after the first bout of pain, it became a debilitating, chronic headache. ‘The pain was so bad it woke me up,’ recalls Emma, now 24, from Loughborough, Leics, who works in sales and marketing. ‘It had moved from 30-second flashes of intense pain to constant pain — and it hasn’t gone away since.’ Six years on, Emma is still suffering, and despite numerous treatments, tests and investigations, no one can yet explain what is causing her headache. ‘I was 18 when it began and everything came to a halt,’ she says. ‘Constant debilitating pain interfered with every aspect of my life. ‘I didn’t take my A-levels, I stopped going out and I was miserable. I took it out on my parents, though I know they understood why. ‘I tried the usual treatments, including paracetamol and ibuprofen. And when they didn’t work I was prescribed stronger painkillers, such as co-codamol, but nothing touched the pain. ‘After 72 hours without sleep from the pain, I was catatonic. Mum took me back to the GP and I passed out after a blood test, going face down on the floor and smashing a tooth. I came round to a massive surge of pain in my head. ‘My tooth got fixed, but the headache continued as it is now; constant, seven-out-of-ten pain which doesn’t change with environment or food.’ Emma’s chronic or long-term headache is not too unusual, according to Dr Joe Guadagno, a consultant neurologist at Newcastle upon Tyne NHS Foundation Trust. ‘Permanent headaches are surprisingly common, both recurring and constant, and are often without diagnosis, which makes treating them challenging — especially since the constant use of painkillers can have side-effects such as overuse actually perpetuating the pain.’ The National Institute for Health and Care Excellence (NICE) said earlier this month that paracetamol and ibuprofen should not be prescribed for chronic pain because they can potentially ‘cause more harm than good’. Emma continued trying every possible treatment, including acupuncture, to try to relieve the pain, to no avail [File photo] Instead, it recommends exercise, therapy, acupuncture and antidepressants for the estimated half of the population who are affected by chronic pain — that is, pain that lasts for three to six months or more. After painkillers failed to alleviate Emma’s headache, she was sent for MRI and brain scans to see if there was a more sinister cause. Dr Guadagno recommends anyone who has a progressive or persistent headache to seek medical attention to rule out serious underlying health problems. ‘New headaches in anyone over 50, and sudden-onset headaches where the pain reaches maximum intensity within five minutes and is associated with symptoms such as sudden or progressively weak arms and legs, fever or confusion, should be checked out,’ he says. ‘There is no specific “brain tumour” headache, but at any age, any progressive or persistent headache, or headache that has changed dramatically over time, usually warrants a brain scan.’ When Emma’s scans came back clear, there was a sigh of relief — but doctors then suggested her headaches might be psychological. ‘This left me questioning everything and whether my body was playing tricks on me,’ says Emma. ‘One of my biggest fears was that I wouldn’t be believed.’ Her parents, both pharmaceutical research scientists, were determined to get to the bottom of the problem and had Emma referred to a private neurologist in Birmingham. ‘We tried less widely known medicines and methods in an attempt to provide relief quickly so I could sit my A-levels, go to university and get back to a normal life,’ recalls Emma. ‘I was prescribed steroids to reduce inflammation, sodium valproate — which is usually used to treat epilepsy and bipolar disorder, but can occasionally be used to prevent migraine headaches — as well as sleeping tablets, as exhaustion meant I didn’t know who or where I was. ‘But finally the consultant admitted defeat, with no idea what was causing my headaches. I was just left to live with the problem.’ By 2015, a year after the headache started, nothing had changed. A blood test with an endocrinologist — a hormone specialist — revealed that Emma’s levels of the stress hormone cortisol, which can be a marker for pain, were ‘through the roof’, proving to doctors that her intense pain was real. Emma continued trying every possible treatment, including acupuncture, to try to relieve the pain, to no avail. ‘It left me feeling hopeless,’ she says. Unable to sit her A-levels or continue with normal life, she could only watch as friends left home, headed for university and started new jobs — her younger brother Ben, now 22, among them. ‘There was an underlying jealousy that I don’t like to admit,’ she says. ‘Being an older sibling, I always thought I would experience those things first, but instead I spent most of my days at home on the sofa, unable to move. ‘The lack of sleep was almost harder to conquer than the headaches. Before, I’d been a social butterfly, but now I felt like a burden, going out for only an hour before I was exhausted. ‘Concentrating on anything rather than pain was difficult, and I often switched off. Even having conversations or the attention to watch a TV show was difficult, and I lost some friends. ‘I’d hear myself sounding fed up and miserable and think: “What happened to the bubbly, vibrant girl I used to be?” ’ A breakthrough came four years ago when Emma was referred for cognitive behavioural therapy (CBT), a talking therapy to help manage problems by changing the way you think and behave, which is recommended by NICE for chronic pain. While she wasn’t able to offer Emma a ‘cure’, Dr Beverley David, a clinical psychologist, helped her to find coping strategies and deal with the depression that was exacerbating the pain. ‘Beverley helped me realise I could find a way through this,’ says Emma. ‘I was sad and angry, grieving for a life I’d lost but also so fed up with myself.’ Veg patch medicine: The health wonders that lie in your larder This week: Onions for hay fever and allergies Onions are rich in quercetin, a plant chemical that has been shown in laboratory and animal studies to dampen the production of histamine Onions are rich in quercetin, a plant chemical that has been shown in laboratory and animal studies to dampen the production of histamine — the chemical that produces allergy symptoms such as itchy eyes and a runny nose. A couple of small human studies, including one in the journal Allergology International in 2009, showed that when people with hay fever were given quercetin in supplement form (100-300mg a day) they had reduced eye and nasal symptoms. A medium onion contains 22-52mg of quercetin. While more research is required, eating more onions can’t harm you if you have seasonal allergies. Sautéeing and baking don’t reduce quercetin, but boiling leaches it into the surrounding water. Possibly the biggest step was accepting that her headache might never go away and learning to live well with it. ‘Beverley taught me to change the way I think and behave, and tricks to reset my body clock which helped me sleep better,’ says Emma. ‘Sleep deprivation spoils everything. I hated what I’d become and felt I was letting people down. She showed me that I could let this illness strengthen my character.’ After a year under Dr David’s care, Emma decided she wanted to train to be a counsellor (while she continues to work in sales and marketing). ‘I wanted to help make a difference to other people, listening and believing anyone who has been judged over the years for battling with something that no one can see or understand,’ says Emma. Dr David, who now works in Ontario, Canada, says: ‘Working with unexplained physical symptoms can bring extra challenges. Our understanding around mental health is increasing, helping to better support holistic health. Cognitive behavioural therapy helps to reveal links between symptoms, worries and feelings and how to manage them.’ Despite six years of constant pain, Emma’s life is now moving on positively — she is thoroughly enjoying life with her boyfriend, Elliot, 24, a project manager for a bespoke kitchen company whom she met through a dating app, and with her family and friends. ‘If I woke up tomorrow and the headache was gone, I don’t know how long it would take me to believe it,’ she says. ‘But I can’t put my life on hold waiting for that to happen. All the good things in my life now are more important to me than a sore head, even one that has lasted for six years. ‘I couldn’t be happier with how far I’ve come, but it certainly hasn’t been easy. Living with chronic pain isn’t the end — it’s what you make of it.’ The post Thought your headache was unbearable? Emma’s had one for six years appeared first on Shri Times News. from WordPress https://ift.tt/2Ycoqex

http://sansaartimes.blogspot.com/2020/08/thought-your-headache-was-unbearable.html

#SEO #Local SEO training #daily news paper #daily news india #daily news newspaper #technology news a

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blackandwhitedays · 5 years ago

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hello

woah... it’s been over two years since i’ve logged into this blog.

i didn’t think i’d be able to recover it. thankfully i’ve been using the same five(ish) passwords for the past four years.

so much has changed since i first began posting. although, i only made about three posts. it’s not uncommon for me to come up with some bright idea to start a blog/journal then forget about it after a few entries.

where do i even begin?

well, i graduated. and the boy i mentioned in one of my first posts? we are going on two and a half years together. crazy stuff. he was my saving grace through my last few months of high school. i don’t know what i would have done without him.

i used to post on another website called my-diary, where i updated about my life a lot more. reading those posts made my chest ache. i genuinely felt like i couldn’t breathe. suddenly, i was in high school again, overwhelmed and suicidal with no one to talk to. yeah, shit was rough to say the least.

i lost all my friends in february of my senior year. so, yeah, about two years ago now. i couldn’t really remember the details, but rereading my old entries helped jog my memory. it was all childish drama, as i suspected. my friends thought i was petty and secretly hated them, so they dropped me. i was already disliked by my entire graduating class, and suddenly i had absolutely no one. i sat alone everywhere i went. my guidance counselor accused me of sabotaging my own relationships. which now i understand as a symptom of my extreme anxiety and fear. i would destroy my relationships with others before they could hurt me first. but that’s not what i did with my friends in school. i cared for them a lot. they were all i had at the time. and they were perfectly okay with abandoning me at my lowest point because they were selfish from the start, i was just too desperate to see it.

it still chokes me up thinking about everything. i sometimes get into these weird obsessive states where i will purposely go back and reflect on my high school times and get really depressed. i don’t know why i do it. i’m so much better now than i ever was then. yet it’s like i enjoy hurting myself sometimes. perhaps to make sure i’m still capable of emoting like i used to.

but anyways, let’s talk about the now. i graduated and basically made a massive “fuck you high school and fuck everyone who hurt me.” you better believe i was the talk of the town. i got about thirty comments praising my bravery, then the next morning the hate started flowing in. people called me retarded, a dumbass, a liar, etc. all the good stuff. called me a slut for wearing crop tops. and my mother, who was so worried what others would think of HER because of the post, kicked me out. i lived on ben’s couch for several days. it was a nightmare. i thought i had hit rock bottom.

but shit moved on. i moved away and started going to college. my mom eventually apologized for being a selfish bitch about the whole situation. i forgave her, even though i don’t know if i’ll ever fully be able to. ben moved with me and got his own apartment in the same town. i ran out of money after the first semester and nowhere would give me more loans, so i had to drop out and move in with ben. we both worked as much as we could and moved back in with our parents for about a month. then we saved up and got our own apartment in a bigger city. which is where we are now. ben has a really great job working in masonry. he’s making ridiculously good money, though he has no clue how to budget and is constantly broke. i am a supervisor of a program that helps people with disabilities and brain injuries. i also make good money. i’m saving up to go back to school this fall. our apartment is small and owned by a sketchy property management company who is absolutely going to rob us of our $1,000 deposit. we also have a dog by the name of winston. he is the love of my life and i adore him more than anything in this world.

my life has done a complete 180. there’s no denying that. the only thing that could make it better is having some friends. yep, two years later i still haven’t made a long term friend. i think it’s due to a combination of moving around a lot, working constantly, and somewhat isolating myself due to fear of getting hurt again. ben and i thought we made friends with some people living in our building. they were a couple and were pretty great for about a month. we had cooking nights where we made dinner, went hiking and exploring different cities, and hung out all the time. then the girl decided to pick a fight because apparently we opened her messages and didn’t reply right away and it upset her. i tried explaining that we’re both insanely busy and sometimes we check our phones in the spur of the moment but don’t get time to actually type out a reply. then she got even more upset and said “guess i’m not allowed to have an opinion then?” and started subtweeting about me on twitter. she also refused to talk it out in person and would only discuss it through snapchat. just really, really childish shit. then a couple weeks later they broke up. so there went that. i sometimes still talk to her but i’m certainly not interested in pursuing a friendship. i don’t need that kind of drama in my life.

sometimes i wonder if it’s me. if i really am some crazy manipulative bitch who just has no idea that she’s on some rampage to destroy everyone’s lives. but i really don’t think so. i just want some people who can come over and watch movies, chill out, etc. then when it warms up outside, we can go hiking and smoke in the woods, go on adventures at night through the city, and eat at all the different restaurants in town. i also want friends who i can make really shitty obnoxious jokes with and they will LAUGH. is that so much to ask? apparently, it is.

i do work a lot though, which prevents me from having as much of a social life as i would like. i’ve been a pretty regular smoker of weed for going on four years now. through my junior and senior year of high school as well as in college up until now. but in these last seven months since i moved into this apartment, ben and i have smoked almost every night. and boy, have i felt the effects. i definitely feel less focused and productive. i just want to come home and be lazy. which i can’t be. my job requires me to stay sharp and be productive, so i’ve decided to cut back and make it a weekend thing. it’s hard, though, because ben smokes every. single. day. and he has no plans to change that. he tried stopping and got so depressed he was feeling suicidal again, which he hasn’t felt in a long time.

oh, and as for ben and i? yeah, two and a half years. pretty crazy. we were all over each other for the first year and a half. we fell hard for one another. it hasn’t been perfect by any means, but it’s been a good time.

my biggest issue in the relationship is our lack of sex. i’m a very sexually driven person. i love sexually charged attention. i love a man who will slap my ass when he passes by me, and has to resist the urge to bend me over every time i “accidentally” change in front of him. ben is really not like that. his sex drive is practically non-existent, which has taken a toll on us for sure. it’s mostly because of his depression, i think, so he’s trying to get on antidepressants. they’re also for him, of course. he wants to feel happier. hopefully, it works.

these last few months have been a little rockier. not because we’ve been fighting more or anything. but i just feel like his heart isn’t as in it as it once was. he will deny it, of course. he claims he’s never been more in love with me. and i’m sure he genuinely believes that. but his lack of effort says otherwise. i spent $150 on concert tickets for him this valentine’s day. guess what he got me? nada. like, not even flowers. or chocolate. i’m not asking for him to break his bank on me. at all. i’m the easiest girl to please when it comes to this stuff. i just wanted to feel special. and i let him know how disappointed i was. i thought expressing my feelings would make him want to make it up to me, but he hasn’t done anything. he also hasn’t done much around the house, and i’ve been working late almost every night. i like things done a certain way, and he knows that. but you’d think he’d recognize that i’m working soo much lately and that i could use the extra help around the house. but no, i have to confront him about it which leads to him getting super defensive which leads to me getting upset which leads to a fight. then the whole night is ruined. it took an entire fight for him to finally clean up one night when i was working. which was nice. but it felt like he was doing it because i made a big deal about it, not because he actually wanted to help me out.

WARNING: Vulgar rant up ahead:

i feel like i’ve sort of began building up some resentment towards him. i hate that that’s the case. but i’m getting laid maybe twice a month. i’m nineteen years old and i am fucking HORNY. and i’m not unattractive to look at by any means. it sucks so bad when i come home and try to be subtly sexy and change in front of him and dance around and all he does is stare at his fucking phone. then when i straight-up climb on him and try to kickstart things, he says he’s tired and it’s too late. it makes me not want to come home from work. there’s nothing for me here. he doesn’t pay any attention to me. the most i see him is when he eventually passes out in my lap at 9:30 at night. it’s fucking exhausting. i’m so starved of attention. i went from being so incredibly crazy about him just a few short months ago, being so positive he was the one for me, to being almost in tears at the thought of dealing with this way of living any longer. i’m trying so hard to hold out for him to see a doctor and get on meds, but i just don’t know if it will help. he’s been on some before, and he was still sad and actually thought getting off of them would help his sex drive. but surprise, it didn’t.

i can’t imagine us breaking up. i mean, i would have to completely start over. get my own place, pay for everything on my own, etc. it would be so hard. i don’t want that to happen. but i’m fucking miserable here. i can’t rely on sitting on my fucking dildo and cuddling my dog as replacements for the love i signed up for when i entered this relationship. are we fizzling out? i don’t know. but i’m sad and angry and very, very frustrated.

and i’ll be honest, i’m really not that sexually attracted to ben in the first place. at first, i was, but he’s basically used all his moves on me and it’s pretty repetitive when we do have sex. i can’t get off without porn anymore. which i hate. i don’t even like porn that much. but it’s the only thing that works. so, would things even improve that much if he was having sex with me all the time? i don’t know. i just know that if things haven’t turned around by the summertime, i may be looking for a new place to live.

do i sometimes yearn for the freedom that comes with being single? sure. do i sometimes wish i could get laid by someone who actually has new moves to offer? of course. but do i want to sacrifice my relationship to receive these things? that’s what i’m not sure of.

i hate to even think of losing ben. it’s terrifying. i just want to feel loved. i just want to feel appreciated for everything i do around here. i try so fucking hard. but he gets so defensive when i try talking to him and thinks he contributes just as much as me (not even fucking close). i can’t even have a civilized discussion with him because it turns into a messy ass fight. wow, this is the longest post ever. i’ve talked about a lot tonight. it feels good to get some of it off my chest. it’s been building up inside for quite some time. i hope shit gets better in regards to my relationship. i need some damn love. and fast.

#relationship #deadbedroom #lonely #help

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admiralty-xfd · 5 years ago

Text

Culmination

This is Chapter 16, to start at the beginning click here.

This is the breakup chapter. It remains one of my favorite things I’ve ever written because I like pain and am terrible.

ALIENATION

(pre S10)

SCULLY

Don’t give up.

These words had been such a comfort to her all those years ago, and now they seem empty. All she wants to do is give up.

She can’t bring herself to regret falling in love with him. She could never believe they weren’t meant to be together. It had all been too perfect, too real. And it hardly could have been avoided.

She can regret other things. If only she’d convinced him not to travel back to Oregon without her all those years ago. If only she’d been strong enough to let him stay with her and William in spite of the dangers. If only she’d been able to keep William by her side.

If only...

Maybe if Mulder had been around she could have found the courage. She doesn’t blame him for that, but she can blame the quest. If only they could be finished with the quest. Maybe then they wouldn’t have been caught up in a chain of events that had forced them to start their lives together in a way that was doomed for failure.

For Scully, the loss of everything she’d ever held dear in her life should have been a breaking point. Her job, contact with her family, her freedom, her very identity had all been given up for Mulder. He should not have been enough for her, but for some reason he was. Nothing but the deepest, most reckless love could have put her on the road with him, hell bent into isolation and further darkness that would only swallow them both whole.

What could she have possibly expected? How did she think this was all going to end?

When she was a girl, she had a family who cared for her, and she’d dreamed of her future: and some great love she’d find one day like in the stories her mother would read to her before kissing her goodnight. As she grew older, her dreams evolved into something more profound: a real connection with another person that would make her whole, fill her every empty space and consume her in the best possible way.

She’d found that in Mulder, and there was no doubt in her mind she would never find it again with anyone else.

But Mulder had never had that kind of family. Even before the tragedy that ripped them all apart when he was only twelve, his family held secrets he might never have escaped, secrets that may well have been the catalyst for the entire horrible thing. Scully was the only family he’s really had for a long time now, and she welcomed that role. Then all she really had was him.

How cruel it is that they now find themselves in this hellscape of distance and loneliness.

She wishes she could determine when and how her unhappiness began so she could figure out a way to stop it, to turn it back, to make it all okay again. Maybe she can put her investigative skills to practical, personal use to save herself… to save them both.

But the things that caused this are things she knows she will never be able to fix.

William.

Deep waves of sadness engulf her.

Today, he would be ten years old. They’d spend the day at the Air and Space Museum and get ice cream afterwards.

Today, he would be eleven years old. Mulder would play baseball with him in the front yard, smiles on their faces, father and son.

She would try to imagine what his face would look like, something she does more often than she thinks is healthy. Just as she'd start to put a picture together in her mind she’d push the thought away, and find somewhere quiet to be alone and cry.

She can’t cry in front of Mulder, he can’t understand, not fully. He can’t fix this. No one can.

She and Mulder never talk about him. They rarely even mention his name. It is just too painful. When they do, the conversation feels short and perfunctory. Mulder would try, but there's nothing he could say that would make her feel any better. She can't help but wonder if this topic became one of their many stalemates somewhere along the way, maybe even from the very beginning when she told him in that jail cell. Through no fault of their own, it had shared space in their minds with so many other feelings at the time that they hadn't properly discussed it, and never found the right time to properly discuss it again. There were things left unsaid, things she doesn't want to have to think about.

The emptiness William left in Scully was not healing; it was only deepening. The uncertainty of his fate was eating her alive. And even worse, the fear that Mulder secretly resented her for her decision only intensified with their failure to communicate. She felt this fear acutely with every passing opportunity to discuss it. It was a tiny black spot on their sun that slowly grew over time.

Then there was all that end of the world business. On December 22, 2012 the sun rose and set. The world decided not to end after all.

But it was the beginning of their end.

They’d lived their lives contentedly, for the most part, day by day. But as the dreaded date approached, Mulder had become more and more consumed by it. Perhaps it was genuine fear, or perhaps it was the idleness that had finally gotten to him; finding work again that could satisfy his needs after he lost the X Files had proven difficult. Scully was fortunate to have medicine to fall back on. He was not so fortunate.

When the fateful date came and went, Mulder began to spin out. He seemed restless, almost disappointed that the world hadn’t come to an end. Scully didn’t understand and maybe she never would. The idea that none of it had been the truth after all wasn’t upsetting to her; it meant they could live their lives again without fear. She couldn’t understand why Mulder didn’t feel the same way. It was stubbornness, bullheadedness at its worst. Being vindicated seemed more important to him than actually being alive. She couldn’t help but take that personally.

Now she doesn��t recognize him anymore. He’s become reclusive, even from her, and irritable. She can tell he feels directionless, purposeless. She knows not for what, but he still searches. He always needs to be searching. He sinks deeper and deeper into a world without her in it. And in that world there is no room for her, nowhere for her to seek shelter, nowhere for her to call home.

She can see this is affecting his physical and mental health. She rarely sees his body anymore but when she does she worries. The contours she’s used to have changed. The beard he knows she hates is back, yet another barrier he’s built between them. And his mind… his beautiful mind is wasting away on things she finds so wholly unimportant now.

An eventuality Scully had always feared was that he could never be satisfied, would never stop searching no matter what, and while the world not ending brought her relief, it only brought him anxiety. He knows she doesn’t want to participate in this endless quest any longer so he doesn’t talk to her about it. The more consumed he becomes, the less they talk at all.

She is slowly beginning to realize something deep down she has always hoped: that he would one day outgrow this obsession. The guilt she feels about this epiphany has begun to gnaw at her, because she feels like it means she wants him to change. She loves him, she loves every part of him, so she doesn't understand this.

I’m not the one who changed. This is me, this is who I was before you met me.

She can’t make him change, and she knows she shouldn’t. But soon she comes to realize he has changed. He isn't the same anymore. He isn't the man she fell in love with anymore. She wants her Mulder back, the Mulder whose passion and dedication meant something, the Mulder who grew in so many ways over the years.

The Mulder who would always take her with him, would always want her there, no matter what.

She's reminded of how it was when he died. She won’t forget how awful it felt, ever, but this is somehow worse because he hasn’t died… he’s still here, but the parts of him she fell in love with have died and they are trying to take her along, like they always have.

They are going somewhere she cannot follow. She cannot go with him anymore.

There was a time when all she needed was him, all she ever wanted was him by her side, searching for fugitive truths, feeling like what they didmeant something, something important. She still believes in this, still believes in him. She knows she always will. It’s not that she no longer cares about their quest, she just feels like she’s put it in her past, and he’s still looking for it in his present.

He comes to bed so late every night. She can’t decide if this is purposeful to avoid her judgment or if he’s completely indifferent to her existence.

This is the scariest part for Scully… the painful awareness that he simply doesn’t see her anymore. It’s a slap in the face. She has counted on this so faithfully, in his relentless pursuit of the truth his loyalty to her was never in question.

He tried for a long time to make her happy, like he’d promised. But she isn’t happy anymore. She isn’t everything and everyone to him. She isn’t enough. The darkness is swallowing him again, and there’s nothing she can do to stop it.

Her fear of failing him is coming true. She failed William, and now she’s failed Mulder.

As the months pass, she gets desperate. Although they hardly speak anymore, she fears he's calling to her for help. She can't help him in the way she used to, she's lost that ability. But she does what she can for him, as a doctor, and pleads with him to try to help himself. His compliance in this matter is the biggest relief she's felt in months. Over time the antidepressants do what they are meant to do, and slowly but surely she can see him coming out of his fog.

But the relief she feels is limited to him and him alone. She feels no relief for them. The damage is done.

They’ve completely lost sight of one another, and she knows trying to find their way back is going to be just too hard. There’s only so much of this she can take. She can’t give him everything he needs anymore, and he clearly cannot give her everything she needs either. Just loving each other isn’t enough.

After years of nightmares borne from the horrors of their work, she finds herself having the same simple dreams over and over again. The first one is of Mulder, arriving home from work in his suit and tie, eyes bright and full of purpose. He kisses her cheek as she leans into him, happy, alive,unafraid.

The only other dream is the sweet tiny face of William, gripping her index finger and looking up into her eyes.

These dreams are more frightening than any of the ones she’d had back when they worked on the X Files, because they paint a picture of a life she once thought she’d have and now knows she never will. Having these dreams dangled in front of her nightly is almost too much to bear.

She can’t tell him what she’s feeling. For so many years she’s lived his life, chosen that life over and over again because she loved him. And he told her he’d give her the life she wanted because he loved her. The kind of life she dreams about isn’t the kind of life he wants, isn’t the life he’s ever wanted or needed and she knows this. She’s always known it but she fell in love with him anyway.

She can’t be angry with him. She can only be angry with herself. And so she is.

She can’t remember the last time they made love, how it had been, what it had felt like. She wishes she could. Some nights she will feel him slide into bed beside her, his warmth just a painful memory. He reaches for her and she pretends to be asleep. After awhile he stops trying at all.

One morning she wakes and turns over to see his side of the bed completely untouched and she feels a sharp pain in her heart. Somehow she knows something has changed significantly, perhaps permanently.

She quietly descends the stairs and peers into the living room, seeing what she feared she’d see: Mulder, asleep on the couch.

The sight of him there, back where he started before they’d met, is enough to break her into two. Her legs give way but she somehow finds the strength to get herself back into the bedroom before she collapses into tears, the door closing behind her, sliding down to the floor.

MULDER

He hasn’t been the best partner, or husband, or even friend to her lately, he knows that. He isn’t sure how it began, or exactly when. But what felt like an endless cycle of darkness has spiraled out and down. He can't contain it, as much as he'd like to.

He knows he started to feel restless as the colonization date approached. He was staring down the figurative barrel of a gun. Every day that brought them closer to the end of the world brought new fears, new anxieties, new guilt, and new reasons to keep looking for more answers. He was getting sucked back into the dark world he’d sworn to Scully he’d stay away from and he hadn’t even realized it until he was too far gone. And as the date came and went without incident, he had become again what he’d tried so hard to avoid.

He starts to doubt his own self worth, his own value. If he was wrong about this, what else is he wrong about? There has to be an answer, a worthwhile reason he’s given up so much time and energy on this over the last ten years. There has to be something, something to make all that time wasted worth the waste. He feels so incredibly guilty for the time that had been stolen from him, the time that had been stolen from Scully, that he continues searching, sinking further into his already sunk cost.

He often thinks about William, the son he never knew. The son he never knew he even wanted. There are moments he feels such pain and desperation at the loss he wants to blame Scully for making him leave them behind, and then blame her some more for giving William up.

But he would never blame her. He knows none of it was her fault, none of it. Every bit of it is his own fault. It’s always been his fault.

So he starts to hate himself.

Weeks pass, months pass, and it gets worse. The longer the distance continues between the two of them, the harder it becomes to bridge it. He would prefer yelling and screaming to this cold, silent indifference. It has never been this way with Scully before, not like this. He knows he’s losing her and he’s powerless to stop it.

He feels like he is drowning, and for the first time he knows even she can’t rescue him. He’s not sure what to do. There are times he can hear her crying in the bathroom and he feels so helpless and useless he buries himself in his office and disappears into space. Quite literally, all he has is his obsession.

He hasn’t stopped seeing her. He just doesn’t want her seeing him like this.

One day, she comes to him and tells him she’s prescribed him medication. She’s worried about him, she says. She only wants him to feel better.

He knows what she means is she wants him to be better.

He can’t be better, he feels as if he will never be good enough, but he starts taking the pills anyway because there’s nothing else he can do for her.

As months pass, the medication does what it’s supposed to, and he can feel himself coming out of his dark place. The anxiety he suffered during the run-up to that fateful date he feared so much is wearing off slowly with every day. The meds help, but time is the thing that seems to be doing the trick. The more time that passes, the more certain he becomes that his fears were unfounded, and he learns to be grateful.

For the first time in many, many months, he’s starting to feel like himself again. The tiniest wellspring of hope bubbles up inside him that maybe they can turn this around, somehow.

One night he climbs into bed beside Scully and puts a hand on her hip. She’s turned onto her side, her back to him. He doesn’t realize until this moment how much he’s missed this, how much he aches for her touch. It's been a long time, he knows it has. He can remember how long it's been.

He brings his face close in the dark, gently moves her hair aside and softly kisses the back of her neck, the tiny scar there a painful reminder of what it cost her to love him.

“Hey,” he whispers.

She doesn’t move, and her calm, steady breathing leads him to assume she is already asleep. He rolls onto his back and hopes tomorrow will be better.

It isn’t.

***

“I can’t do this anymore, Mulder.”

She is standing in the doorway of his office. He is sitting on the floor, surrounded by files, newspapers, photos. He doesn’t look at her. He sighs, closes his eyes.

“Scully.”

She crosses the room and drops to her knees to face him. She sits back onto her heels and they regard each other. It’s the first time she’s made eye contact with him in weeks. “I can’t be with you like this. It isn’t fair.”

He looks into her eyes. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying I’m leaving. I can’t be here anymore.”

Mulder feels a sharp pain, like he’s been punched in the gut. No… this can’t be happening. Not this. Never this.

In an instant, a million Scullys flash before him as he looks at her face, this face he’s been so used to looking at for twenty years. Twenty years and she’s somehow found it impossible to stay with him. How could he have let this happen?

He shakes his head. “But… I don’t understand, I thought…” For some reason he’d felt like they made an unspoken deal when he started taking the medication. That it was a progression. Get better, then fix this. That was what he thought, at least. “I mean, I’m feeling better. The medication is working. I’m starting to feel like myself again.”

But he knows her face so well, it hits him instantly that she has made up her mind, and nothing he says is going to change it now. This is not like that time in his hallway all those years ago; there are no magic words he can utter to make her stay.

“Mulder, I know. I know you’re feeling better, and I’m extremely relieved. That’s why I’m telling you this now. I wouldn’t be saying this if I thought you were still in the place you were.”

His mind races. How long has she been thinking about this? How long has she been planning to leave him? He knew things were bad, but he also knew it was still the two of them. They could survive anything. They’d survived evil conspirators, flukemen, black oil viruses… hell, he’d died and come back to life and they’d somehow made it through all of that.

Can this really be what finishes them? A plain, old-fashioned break up?

“I don’t know what to say. I don’t believe this.”

She’s finding it hard to look at him. “I don’t want to hurt you, that’s not something I ever wanted to do. I just know I can’t stay here. I’m never going to be enough for you, Mulder, and what I don’t believe is how blind I’ve been to this fact since the day I met you.”

He feels like she’s knocked the wind out of him. He doesn’t know what to say. He racks his brain, trying to think of where exactly he’d fucked this up beyond redemption, how he made her feel this way, how he’d apparently always made her feel this way. Nothing.

“Maybe I wasn’t blind, I don’t know," she continues. "Maybe I’ve just chosen not to see, not to believe it. All these years, I thought somehow…”

She doesn’t finish this sentence for some reason. Maybe she doesn’t want to make things even worse. He can’t think of anything she could possibly say that would make this worse.

“How long until the next big thing, Mulder? The next obsession? The next truth you have to go searching for? And when you find that one, what’s after that? Or if you don’t… well, that’s even worse.” Her eyes are starting to well up.

“Scully… I love you.” It’s the only thing his heart can speak. Everything else feels irrelevant at the moment. His voice comes out in an unfamiliar timbre he barely recognizes. It’s something he’s not used to, something like defeat. “Whatever you may say, whatever you may think... I have to believe you know that.”

She looks at her lap. “I know you do, Mulder. That’s not why I’m leaving.”

“Then... why?” He can’t think, he can’t come up with words fast enough. She’s leaving him, for real this time. He can’t fathom such an outcome. No matter what, he’s always counted on her being there. He feels like parts of him are trying to float away and he can’t keep his grasp.

She looks up at him. “You know what I was thinking about the other day? Back when you were in jail and I begged you to testify to save your own life, do you remember what you said to me?”

He looks at her blankly. This was so long ago, why is she bringing this up?

“You said you wouldn’t because the truth was bigger than you or me.”

He stares at her. “At the time that’s what I thought, Scully. I can’t change the past. I can’t change how I felt, or what I learned, or how I learned it, or what came of it all which was a big fat nothing.”

“I know you can’t,” she whispers, looking at the floor again.

Suddenly, he’s angry. “Do you think I wanted to have that information? Do you know how much time I wasted worrying about the end of the world that never happened? How many days went by where all I could think about was how few we had left with each other?”

“I do know, Mulder. I know all too well.” There’s a flash of hurt in her eyes. “And you spent so much time worrying about it you forgot I was here.”

He presses his hands to his face, covering his eyes. He knows she’s right. He should have known better. He should have been more careful. They’d already wasted enough time. He can’t believe they’ve come to this.

“When I told you in that jail cell I was in this fight for us, for you and me, you said nothing. I can’t begin to describe to you how much that hurt me. We’d been separated for so long, I missed you so much, all I wanted was you, all I needed was you, and you told me to my face you’d rather die than jeopardize the quest.” She can’t control her tears anymore and her voice is shaking. “If Kersh hadn’t helped get you out of jail that night, you would be dead right now and that’s the last thing you would have said to me.”

He’s quiet for a moment. I am a complete fucking asshole.

“But that was so long ago, Scully. I’m… I’m different now.” Even as he says the words, he knows deep down they’re not really true. “Things with us are different. You know I’d never say something like that now.”

“Do I?” There’s no hostility in her voice, just defeat. The pain he sees in her eyes is more real than anything he’s ever searched for. She’s given up. On him, on them. Maybe she should. Maybe he deserves all of this.

“You remember that night we drove out to Groom Lake together? It was a weekend. You wanted to go, and I got in the car with you. We drove past thousands of other lifetimes being lived out around us, lives of people who were happy and safe. I knew we may not find anything. I knew we’d probably get in trouble. But I stayed in the car, with you. It was where I wanted to be. It was where I always wanted to be.”

He can only listen now.

She continues, quietly. “And then that night you escaped your jail cell, I got in the car with you again and we drove. We drove and drove and drove. Do you remember that?”

He nods. She takes his hands in hers and looks at him.

“There was no hesitation from either of us. You knew no matter what, I’d get in that car with you and follow you wherever you led.”

She reaches out to touch his face, and he looks into her eyes for what he fears may be the last time. There’s nothing he can do about it.

“I love you, Mulder. I always will. But I can’t get in the car with you this time.”

She leans forward and kisses him. He can feel the warm tears from her eyes on his face before she pulls away, not looking at him, gets up off the floor, and walks out of his life.

#msr #txf #breaup fic #xfiles msr newbie fanfiction #this one hurt #i love pain #but things will be better soon

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all-hail-the-witcher · 6 years ago

Text

I came back to you

look at that yall, your eyes do not deceive you, I actually did write something.

this is part two to this horrific angst mess

also uhhh shouts to mikey for describing a kiss to me (wink wonk) and doin the plan and shouts to fizz for being fizz and scalping me for making a Terrible Mistake

_______

genre: happy floofy make up stuff (I almost wrote angst ha lol)

ship: ralbert off and also married blush cause We Stan

warnings: hmm al is still paralyzed, race’s shoulder is still fucked, I think someone mentions depression or anti depressants or smth, fighting, screaming, I think thats it

editing: lkdfjghlkaghj

words: 3000 something

______

Mush ran full force down the hallway straight into his husband.

“Whoa, Mushy,” Blink said grabbing his shoulders so he didn’t topple over. “What’s going on? Is hell chasing you?”

“Sorta,” Mush said before toning down him voice. “We need to talk. Right now.”

Blink raised his eyebrows. “Is everything okay?”

“Depends on your definition of okay,” Mush said. “Can you spare ten minutes?”

“Now?” Blink’s eyebrows knitted together.

Mush nodded and grabbed Blink’s hand, dragging him down several twisting hallways to a storage closet. He looked around for several seconds before yanking open the door and unceremoniously pushing Blink inside.

Mush flicked on the old light, casting a faint yellow glow on him and Blink. “We need to get Race and Albert back together.”

Blink stared at him for several long seconds before shrieking “What?”

“They’re totally miserable!” Mush groaned dramatically. “Race is convinced that Albert is paralyzed because of him, and Albert is convinced that Race doesn’t want him anymore and it’s driving me insane. Do you know how many of Albert’s check ups consist of him asking about how Race is? Every. Single. One. I can’t take it anymore. And it’s not just that, it’s making it harder for him. He was supposed to be all healed like three months ago. He was finally cleared last week. It’s not supposed to take six months to heal from a shattered pelvis! Three to four maybe, but six is insane. And don’t even get me started on Race, that kid is a disaster. He’s come to see me four whole times about his- babe, why are you laughing?” Mush cut himself off when he noticed Blink’s hysterics.

“Babe, I thought that you were hurt or we were about to be attacked,” Blink said as he fought to compose himself. “I wasn’t expecting you to lecture me on Albert and Race’s well-being.”

“But it’s truuueee!” Mush exclaimed, flailing his arms around dramatically. “For the safety of their health and wellbeing we have to get them back together.”

“Are you sure about this?” Blink asked. “They might not want to get back together and we don’t want to make it worse.”

“Blink, I’m their doctor and it’s affecting their mental health. I’d much rather try than have to prescribe them antidepressants,” Mush said.

“Alright,” Blink sighed poking Mush’s chest. “But if this backfires, I don’t know you.”

“Babe,” Mush sounded confused. “We’re married.”

“Then I’m printing divorce papers,” Blink said with an air of sarcasm.

Mush fake gasped. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Oh I would, Race is very scary when he's angry.”

“Yeah,” Mush agreed, “but he’s a stick. Albert is way more intimidating.”

“Yes,” Blink agreed. “But albert is also paralyzed, I doubt he’d be able to beat me up.”

Mush lightly slapped Blink upside the head. “Now now,” he scolded in his best doctor voice, “don't be ableist.”

Blink rolled his eyes. “When was the last time you saw him get in a fight?”

Mush considered for a minute. “Ah, yesterday actually. Romeo took his cookie at lunch.” He smirked mischievously. “See? Your point is invalidated.”

“You’re lucky I love you,” Blink scowled.

Mush popped his foot, smiled over his shoulder and batted his eyelashes playfully at Blink who groaned again before opening the door to the hallway.

“I think Race is scheduled for lookout tower duty today with Buttons, but Buttons already told me he has to call off for some reason so if you really want I can put Albert on with him,” Blink said as they headed down the hall back to central command.

“Depends,” Mush said. “Can we watch them make up on the security cameras?”

Blink looked at him incredulously. “Is that even a question?”

Mush jumped up and down and clapped his hands together. “I’ll get the popcorn!”

•••

Albert wheeled himself out of the rickety elevator and over to the door of the lookout tower. Why Blink has decided to put him on lookout tower duty at the last minute was beyond him - he knew it was a pain in the ass for him to get to.

He knocked loudly on the heavy wooden door. He hadn’t quite caught who he was on duty with so he was slightly horrified when a sadly familiar mop of blonde hair peeked out.

“Hey,” he tried to say casually. “Blink put me on duty with you last second, Buttons had a thing.”

Race merely nodded and opened the door, staring at the floor the entire time. He closed it behind Albert and wordlessly went back to his seat in front of the binoculars.

Albert sighed, not looking forward to nearly three hours of this, and wheeled himself over to the other chair - which was much too close to Race for his liking. With practiced ease, he maneuvered himself from his wheelchair into the other chair so that he could use the binoculars. He didn’t miss how Race kept his eyes averted the entire time.

“Who are you covering?” Albert asked almost reluctantly. He wasn’t sure if he was ready to hear Race’s voice yet.

Thankfully though, Race apparently wasn’t ready to talk yet and he pointed to three moving dots on the computer screen that was built into the tabletop. Race was watching JoJo and Henry, Smalls and Checks, and Finch and Spot, leaving Albert with Specs and Sniper and Mike and Ike.

Lookout tower duty essentially meant that you sat in the tower and kept tabs on the scouts who were out on patrol. They all had trackers on them - a new improvement since Albert’s accident - which transmitted their location to the digitized map on in the table. The scouts could send up a distress signal if they were in range and it was the people in the lookout tower who were responsible for sending them backup or medical assistance. Lookout tower duty also involved keeping tabs on the enemy and alerting the scouts if they got within range. It wasn’t a hard job, but it was generally improved by conversation.

•••

“This is the worst movie I’ve ever seen,” Mush groaned, slamming his head down on the table.

“That’s cause it’s not a movie,” Blink said, checking over some papers. “It’s real life.”

Mush groaned again and flopped onto Blinks shoulder. They had been watching Albert and Race on the security cameras for almost an hour but so far Albert had only said a few sentences and Race hadn’t said anything at all. For once in their lives they were actually doing their work, and merely sitting stiffly and sneaking glances at the other every few minutes. It was enough to make Mush’s head explode.

“Blinkkk,” Mush whined, “why couldn’t you have given them a job where they actually have to interaccttttttt?”

“Look, I told you not to meddle in their love lives,” Blink reminded him. “And this was what Race had. Albert hasn’t really been cleared yet to do stuff that involves interaction.” He paused. “Which you would know, because you’re his doctor.”

Mush whacked him on the arm with his badge.

“Besides,” Blink continued, “this is usually a job that requires talking, I’m surprised they haven’t said anything to each other yet.”

Mush stared at the array of buttons on Blink’s control panel. “Well,” he began sheepishly, “maybe we could contact one of the scout groups and have them send up a distress signal, surely that would get them to talk?’

Blink spun his chair around and gave Mush a cold, hard stare. “No,” he emphasized. “Distress calls are complicated and take a lot of people to answer, and they’re also dangerous. I am not risking the security of this entire operation just so our friends can talk.”

“You’re no fun,” Mush grumbled, shifting in his chair and looking back at the monitor that was displaying the security camera footage. Much to his surprise, Albert was turned slightly toward Race and it appeared that he was about to say something.

Mush leaned over and cranked up the sound. “Finally,” he sighed happily. “Babe, pass the popcorn, its finally getting interesting.”

“We don't have any?”

“Then go grab some. We’re gonna need it.”

•••

It felt like he had been sitting in silence for hours when finally Mike and Ike moved to a different location on the map. Albert reached for his pen to make note, only to discover that it had run out of ink. He groaned internally upon seeing that the pen cup was on Race’s side of the table.

“Hey, uh-”

Race jumped at the sound of Albert’s voice and Albert gave him an expressionless smile.

“Sorry. Could you just, uh, pass me a pen? Mine’s outta ink.”

Race nodded and wordlessly passed him one. Albert couldn’t help but notice the stiff robotic movements he was using - his shoulder was bothering him, and by the looks of it he hadn’t done anything to help it.

Albert opened his mouth, he couldn’t just let Race suffer in silence. Even after he had dumped him, he just couldn’t sit by and watch while he was in pain, it just wasn’t in his nature.

“Race?” Albert asked gently.

Race paused his writing but said nothing.

“Is your shoulder bothering you?” When Race didn’t respond, Albert took it as an invitation to proceed. “You’re holding it weird, and it looks painful. Have you been taking your meds? Do you want me to rub it for you?”

Race sighed, throwing his pen down onto the table and rubbing his temples with his hands. “You shouldn’t still care this much about me, not when I did- I did that to you.” He pointed at Albert’s wheelchair.

“Is that why you left me?” Albert felt anger bubbling up inside him. “You couldn’t own up to your mistakes?”

“No, I-”

“Then why else did you break up with me over a note?” Albert was furious now. “You could have at least done it in person!”

“No you don’t understand! I couldn’t bear to see you like that!” Race’s voice was scratchy - almost as if he hadn’t used it in awhile - and it cracked as he began to yell.

“You didn’t want me because I was disabled?”

“Al I didn’t want it to happen that way, you have to believe me!” Race begged.

“Then why didn’t you ever come see me? I was in the hospital for over a month and you couldn’t drag your sorry ass there to at least pay me a visit!”

“Albert I-”

“No, face it, you didn’t want me because I’m broken now! I’m not good enough for you because I can’t walk anymore, right! Well I’m still the same person, Race! It’s still me! And I still love you, even if you don’t love me!” Albert angrily turned back to his work, blocking out Race’s attempts at an apology.

•••

“MUSH!” Blink shrieked. “Stop this nonsense right now, can’t you see they’re fighting!”

Mush stood, transfixed as he watched Albert and Race scream at each other on the cameras. This had been a bad, bad idea.

“Mush!” Blink yelled again, shaking his arm. “We have to do something here before this gets bad!”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m thinking okay?” Mush rubbed his hand across his forehead.

“Well think harder! I don’t wanna deal with blood later!”

Mush sighed, “Blink would you just-”

“Hey Blink could you run- oh hey Mush, what are you guys doing?”

The two of them looked up, utterly startled to see Jack standing in front of them, leaving through a folder of papers.

“Uh, paperwork,” Blink said immediately, picking up the stack of paper closest to him and looking it over casually. Mush followed suit, picking up another stack of paper, only to realize he was holding it upside down.

“Yeah….o kay,” Jack said uncertainly. “I can come back later...alright? I don’t wanna get caught in the middle of your married weirdness.” He backed up a few steps before running down the hallway.

“Paperwork?” Mush asked. “Really?”

Blink rolled his eyes. “Thank me later, let’s just get back to making sure that they don’t kill each other, okay?”

Mush looked at the screen again, and then looked twice. Albert and Race seemed to be, talking? Not screaming?

“Blink wait-” he said. “I think they’re doing it themselves.”

•••

After several long minutes of Race profusely apologizing, Albert had had enough. He had to face the facts: he was still very much in love with the idiot in front of him and he’d be damned if he didn't take this opportunity to make things right.

“I’m sorry for yelling at you,” Albert spoke softly, anxiously twirling his pen in his fingers. “It’s just...I’m tired of there not being an us anymore. Ever since my accident I’ve been so alone. I….fucking hell, I need you Racer.”

“Albie,” Race sighed, staring down at his map, “I need you too. It’s been so painful not being around you. But I don't want to hurt you any more that I already have.”

“Listen, I’m not pointing any fingers because I know that this could have happened to anyone, okay?” Race nodded limply. “You leaving me in the dust like that though? That hurt more than the actual injury, or the surgeries, or the pt.” “Al, I’m so sorry, I’m so, so sorry. I never meant to hurt you, physically or emotionally, I just-”

“Oh would you shut up and get over here?” Al interrupted, suddenly very much aware that there was far too much space between them. “I need to hold you.”

Race got up and moved slowly toward Albert, frowning when he patted his lap. “Aren’t I going to hurt you?”

“If you were I wouldn’t be able to feel it,” Albert shrugged. “I can’t feel anything from my hips down.”

“Al, I-”

“Don't you dare say ‘I’m sorry’ it’s not your fault, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Good,” Albert smiled, pulling Race onto his lap and sighing in content as he wound his arms around his shoulders.

“God, I missed you so much,” Race sounded close to tears as he nuzzled his face into Albert’s shoulder, breathing in deeply.

“Never leave me again, okay?” Albert whispered, his breath tickling Race’s ear as they melted further into each other.

“Kiss?” Race blushed as he pulled away from Albert slightly.

Albert smiled and pressed a soft kiss onto Race’s lips which he returned, gentle and slow. When their lips broke Race snuggled back into Albert’s shoulder. “Did I kiss it better?” he asked, reaching up to play with the ends of Albert’s hair.

Albert could only describe the emotion that overcame him as love. “Yes,” he breathed contentedly, “yes you did.”

•••

“TAKE THAT!” Mush screamed in excitement, throwing a fist full of popcorn at Blink. “I TOLD YOU MY PLAN WOULD WORK!” He continued his victory dance around his husband as Race and Albert held each other tightly on the cameras.

“Yes, yes,” Blink sighed, picking pieces of popcorn off of his precarious stacks of paperwork. “I’m very proud of you.” “Proud enough for a kiss?” Mush came to a stop in front of Blink, batting his eyelashes dramatically.

“Proud enough for a kiss,” Blink reluctantly agreed, squeaking in surprise when Mush dramatically dipped him, but enjoying his husband’s breathy laughter against his lips.

“Ew.”

The two of them looked up startled to see Romeo, Jack, and Davey staring at them with mixed expressions of disgust painted on their faces. The end of shift bell must have rung without them noticing.

“What are you two up to?” Jack asked suspiciously. “You were being weird when I was over here before too.”

“We got Race and Albert back together!” Mush exclaimed, clapping his hands together excitedly. Three sets of eyes widened. “Look!” Mush said, pointing to the cameras where Race was standing by awkwardly as Albert maneuvered himself back into his chair. The group watched with bated breath as Race leaned down to mush his lips against Albert’s before they exited the watchtower.

“HOW DID YOU MANAGE THAT?!” Romeo screeched, jumping up and down as he accosted Mush with questions. “I’ve been trying for weeks and it hasn’t worked!”

“I think we should just be happy that they did it,” Davey said, leaning against the wall. “Those two were driving all of us insane.”

“Tell me about it,” Jack sighed. “If i had to hear Race ask one more time how Albert was doing I was gonna punt him off the roof without a second thought.”

Davey glared at him sideways.

“Well, maybe there would have been some second thoughts,” Jack said quickly, trying to backtrack. “You know what? Just forget I said anything.”

“I still can’t believe you managed to get the two of them back together,” Romeo repeated, shaking his head in disbelief. “Those two are more stubborn than a pair of yaks who-”

“AL SLOW DOWN!”

Romeo was interrupted by Albert speeding into command in his wheelchair with Race seated on his lap. The two of them crashed into a wall, sending them flying in a heap of giggles.

“Ah, back to normal already I see,” Davey mused, stepping over the heap of woefully in love boyfriends. “On behalf of us all, may I say: ITS ABOUT DAMN TIME!”

“Jeez Davey,” Race said, pulling himself up to his feet and righting Albert’s chair. “You don't have to be so blunt about it.” He turned to help Albert, who was in the process of trying to get himself up by doing a terribly executed kick up before giving in and accepting Race’s assistance.

“Yes I do,” Davey said, gesturing to Blink and Mush. “If it weren’t for the co captains of romance here, you two would still be hopeless depressed disasters.”

“I’m right here!” Romeo whined.

“Oh no,” Blink said, ignoring Romeo. “It was all Mush, I had nothing to do with it.”

“Oh was it now?” Race said, marching over to Mush with a devilish glint in his eye. “We will be having words later, Dr. Medding In His Patient's Love Lives.”

Mush shrank back in fear.

“C’mon Race,” Albert said, wheeling over. “Leave the man alone, he was just trying to help us. I, for one, am incredibly grateful.”

“See, someone appreciates my efforts,” Mush scowled.

Race shrugged indifferently. “This is still not acceptable. Meet me tonight, three am, behind the supply closet. We’ll settle this the old fashioned way.” He cracked his knuckles for extra emphasis.

Mush scoffed and turned back to Blink as the two of them made their way down the hallway. “Did you see that, babe?” Mush said. “As if they could have gotten back together without my efforts. They’re so- wait, what's this?”

Blink had thrust a few sheets of paper at him while he had been rambling.

“Divorce papers,” he said simply, turning on his heel and walking off down the opposite hallway. “You’ll be hearing from my lawyer.”

Mush stared at the papers in his hands for a few long seconds before taking off after his husband.

“LOUIS GET YOUR SORRY ASS BACK HERE RIGHT THIS INSTANT!”

______

ah yes yes what good kiddos

feedback is always appreciated hmu to be on the tag list

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cometsweepandleonidsfly · 5 years ago

Link

“At a June campaign stop in New Hampshire, Williamson argued against mandatory vaccination, calling it “Orwellian” and “draconian.” “To me, it’s no different than the abortion debate,” she said. “The US government doesn’t tell any citizen, in my book, what they have to do with their body or their child.” She apologized for these comments in a subsequent statement, claiming she personally supports vaccination, but she has a long history of promoting skepticism on the subject (something Trump has done as well).Anti-vaccine sentiment is easy to spread through social media and difficult to rebut once it takes hold. The more Williamson’s views get attention, the more validation she gets, and the more likely it is that she’ll contribute to the problem �� convincing individual parents that it’s okay not to vaccinate their children, which weakens herd immunity and makes outbreaks like the recent measles emergence in New York more likely.

Moreover, as the Washington Post’s Gillian Brockell notes, Williamson has spread misinformation about illness more broadly. In her book A Return to Love, Williamson wrote that “sickness is an illusion and does not exist,” and that “cancer and AIDS and other physical illnesses are physical manifestations of a psychic scream.” She advised her followers that “seeing sickness as our own love that needs to be reclaimed is a more positive approach to healing than is seeing the sickness as something hideous that we must get rid of.”

Elsewhere in the book, she insists that she’s not saying people shouldn’t take medication. But the upshot of these passages seems to be that people with cancer or AIDS can will themselves back to health. Williamson’s denial “that I ever told people who got sick that negative thinking caused it” is hard to square with the quotes from her book, part of a habit of obfuscating and downplaying her worst statements when called on them during the campaign.

But the rhetoric that bothers me the most — on a visceral, personal level — is Williamson’s repeated attacks on antidepressants.Williamson has repeatedly cast doubt on the idea that clinical depression is real, calling the idea “such a scam” in an interview with actor Russell Brand and labeled antidepressants harmful, a cause of suicide rather than a cure for it. Here’s a sampling of this rhetoric compiled by podcast host Courtney Enlow:

http://twitter.com/courtenlow/status/1156527208544034817

Williamson has apologized for the “scam” comment and tried to walk back some of the more heated tweets. She also argued that her issue is not with using antidepressants per se, which she claims to at times support, but rather with their overprescription of them.

But her rhetoric has for some time gone way beyond such reasonable concerns in a way that makes her walkbacks ring hollow. She has argued that antidepressants are often actively harmful, suggested that they caused Robin Williams and Kate Spade to kill themselves (there’s no evidence for either claim), and has insinuated that Big Pharma is pushing antidepressants on Americans who don’t need them.

Now, there is serious debate among mental health experts on just how effective antidepressants are and whether they’re overprescribed. And Williamson is correct to say that people sometimes get diagnosed with depression when they’re actually just sad, and that antidepressants aren’t a cure-all for sicknesses of the soul. But her rhetoric has at times crossed the line into more pernicious territory, casting doubt on the value of taking such drugs altogether.

There’s clear evidence that antidepressants can help at least some patients; a 2018 meta-analysis in The Lancet that surveyed 522 separate trials conducted on a total of 116,477 individuals confirmed that “all antidepressants were more effective than placebo.“ The trouble for patients with clinical depression is a lot of them don’t want to get help: Mental illness is still stigmatized by a lot of people.

I know this is real because I’ve lived it. Starting around 2014, I started to suffer from clinical depression. Depression makes even the smallest effort, like calling a psychiatrist’s office, feel like climbing Mt. Everest. Nothing seems like it will work; everything seems destined to fail.

I’m better now — not cured, but better. Medication helped me improve, and it helps me regulate to this day. But when I was really in the ditch, anything that fed what my depression was telling me — nothing you can do will make you better — would have erected another barrier to getting help. I didn’t encounter Williamson-type arguments during my worst time, but it’s easy for me to see how this kind of rhetoric could serve as depression’s agent, worming into a depressed person’s brain in a way that might cause them to avoid something that could literally save their life.

This isn’t just my anecdotal experience but the view of actual mental health professionals. “Mental health experts say comments like [Williamson’s] can increase stigma and make people less likely to seek treatment, even if that is not the intention,” Maggie Astor writes in the New York Times.

Marianne Williamson isn’t funny or charmingly weird — at least, not after you think about her for a bit. The effect her rhetoric could have on vulnerable people is scary.

Let’s be clear about something: There’s almost no chance that Williamson is going to win the Democratic nomination in the same way Trump won in 2016. She’s not nearly as famous as Trump was, not polling well enough, and can’t tap into base racial grievance the way Trump can.

But just because she won’t win doesn’t mean she can be treated as a funny sideshow.

When a presidential candidate gets massive media attention, there is always a surge of interest in what they think and believe. Their past writing gets read more, they get more chances to spread their ideas via America’s biggest megaphones, and they can even parlay their post-candidacy notoriety into more impressive and high-profile positions.

What this means, in Williamson’s case, is a greater opportunity to attract more followers and adherents to her worldview. It’s not that she’s bringing up her dodgy ideas about depression and vaccines in debates — at least not yet — but rather that all the people who are Googling her after watching the debate or reading a positive article about her performance are likely to encounter her old rhetoric for the first time. They’ll hear her past lines about how it’s okay not to get vaccinated, how “sickness is an illusion,” and how antidepressants are dangerous and pushed on you by Big Pharma.

The more people hear these things, the more likely people are to believe them. The media’s elevation of Williamson gives her a significantly greater set of opportunities to influence people’s views on health in a potentially harmful manner.

This is irresponsible. I get that she’s funny and kooky, and even sometimes says things that make sense (like the need to confront the emotional character of Trump’s racial appeals). She’s getting a lot of attention from the public, giving every media outlet — including Vox — an incentive to cover her. But none of that outweighs the potential damage she can do to real lives by giving parents license to skip vaccination or convincing a person with depression that they don’t need to take their meds. Elevating Williamson, especially through favorable coverage, subtly mainstreams these views.

Even more fundamentally, it suggests that a lot of the mainstream media hasn’t learned the lessons of 2016.

One of the key reasons that Trump was able to break from the GOP pack so decisively is that he absolutely dominated press coverage. His persona was undeniably entertaining, his substantive views equally offensive — both of which generated large TV audiences and clicks for news websites. One 2016 study found that Trump got nearly $2 billion in free media during the primary season alone, due to the inordinate press focus on him.

One of the media’s cardinal failures in 2016 was giving Trump, an ignorant and dangerous candidate, far more attention than he deserved — because he was entertaining and almost no one thought he could win. What happened afterward is a lesson in American journalism’s failure to appreciate the importance of its gatekeeping role in the country’s political system.

Williamson is a test of what, exactly, the mainstream media has learned from the Trump debacle — and it’s one that many are failing.”

#marianne williamson #2020 candidates #mental health #anti-vaxxers

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fluffyseapancakes · 6 years ago

Text

Can’t Let You Fall

The holidays is probably when my depression is at its peak, so I decided to write it out and pretend that I have a friend like Newt. It’s not my best writing and the ending sucks, but I feel really passionate about it. I did my best not to romanticize suicidal ideation and depression and I added the antidepressants thing because taking medication is ok dammit.

19 years ago a young Hufflepuff saved you from making a dire mistake. Now he’s your best friend and biggest supporter, and he tries to cheer you up after you got another rejection letter.

TW: Suicidal ideation and brief mention of self harm.

_________________________________

The first time you encountered this demon called depression, you were at your first year in Hogwarts. You were so excited and proud when you were sorted into Hufflepuff, quickly grabbing the yellow robes and putting them on like it was a crown. You were filled with joy until a Howler landed on your plate during lunch.

HUFFLEPUFF?! DISGRACEFUL! Your mother’s voice erupted from the envelope. YOUR BROTHER AND SISTERS WERE ALL GRYFFINDORS. I DID NOT RAISE A WISHY-WASHY HUFFLEPUFF. DO NOT COME HOME AS YOU HAVE EMBARRASSED OUR FAMILY!

Despite your fellow House mates trying to comfort you, you bursted into tears and ran out of the dining hall. You were used to your mother’s high expectations, but this was the first time she had belittled you in front of your new friends. Your chest felt tight and thoughts started racing through your head. I’m such a disappointment. All I do is mess things up. I want to die.

A few moments later, your legs had taken you to the top of the Astronomy Tower. You opened up the large window and stepped on the ledge, you looked down and all you saw was solid ground. The wind whipped at your face and you took a deep breath.

I’ve been wanting to do this anyway.

You stepped one foot off the ledge when suddenly something grabbed your robes and pulled you back, you collapsed on the floor and looked up at the person that ruined your plans.

You were surprised at how young he looked, probably your age. He had freckles sprinkled all over his nose and cheeks, and his hair was a tousled mess. His blue eyes were darting between you and something by the window, he bit his lips like he was nervous about something.

“Are you ok?” He almost whispered, he smiled at you but it ended up being crooked and a little awkward.

“Would’ve been better if you let me fall,” you mumbled, getting up and dusting off your robes. You noticed the boy was also a Hufflepuff. Did I see him at the Sorting Ceremony?

He shook his head and walked over to the open window, peering over the ledge, he motioned for you to come closer. You walked over to him and the boy pointed to something at the left side of the window. Right where the ledge ended was a small nest with three baby birds sleeping in it.

“They’re raven chicks. The mother hasn’t come back to feed them so I’m caring for them,” the boy took out a handful of seeds from his pocket, “getting to the nest is difficult but someone has to do it.”

“Can’t you grab the nest and put them somewhere else?” You noticed the nest wasn’t far away, but the ledge was quite small and a single misstep could send someone down to the ground. Like I tried to do.

“Moving the nest could hurt them, they can’t fly yet so I can’t let them fall,” the strange boy looked at you and offered you a handful of seeds, “like I couldn’t let you fall.”

You smiled softly and accepted the small seeds, “Thank you. I’m Y/N by the way.”

“Newt Scamander.”

That night a beautiful friendship blossomed.

19 Years Later

Thank you for your interest but currently we are not seeking new applicants for the Beast Division, please apply again in the future.

You crumbled up the letter and threw it across the room. It was the third rejection letter of this month and you were getting desperate.

“Good news?” Newt came up from the basement where his animal hospital was. After graduating from Hogwarts, you and your best friend decided to move in together and rehabilitate injured creatures. He wrote a book called Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, which reached great success and established him as a magizoologist. Newt was never the type to brag but you knew he was extremely proud of himself. You were obviously happy for him and you bragged about him to everyone, but deep inside you felt inadequate next to him and all the failed attempts to get a solid job has burned into flames.

“No,” you sighed, “the Beast Division, Goblin Liaison Office, and Werewolf Capture Unit all rejected me.”

The thing was, you didn’t do horribly at school at all. You excelled at Potions, Care of Magical Creatures, Charms, and Defence Against the Dark Arts. Your N.E.W.T exams were all highly scored and all your Professors had great hopes for you. The only problem was that you were often unsure of yourself and had low confidence, which employers have noticed in your interviews. You wanted to be a magizoologist like Newt but you felt like you weren’t cut out for it.

“You wouldn’t want to work at the Ministry of Magic anyways,” Newt sat down next to you on the couch and pulled out a baby Niffler from his pocket. You instantly brightened at the adorable creature and hugged it in your chest, “they’re full of careerist hypocrites.”

You looked at your best friend and laughed, “Your own brother and Tina are part of the Ministry.”

He gave you that signature Newt Scamander crooked smile, “I suppose so, but who will help me take care of my beasts?”

You poked him in the ribs, making him jump and yelp, “I’m not leaving you dummy, I just need to make money.”

Newt have always been strange about physical contact even with his brother, but over the years he got used to hugging you when you had an anxiety attack while studying, wrapping up your arms when you hurt yourself, holding you tightly as you begged him to kill you, and occasional tickle fights when both of you got too stressed from homework. He’s even allowed you to embrace him when he got a patronizing letter from his mother, kiss his bandages when he got bit or burned by a creature, and put ointment on his back where he couldn’t reach, shivering every time your fingertips brushed against a scar. You two balanced each other and protected one another from emotional and physical pain.

The magizoologist laughed and poked you back, “I can pay you for helping me in the animal hospital.”

“Oh no you don’t. Pickett!”

A little Bowtruckle poked his head out of Newt’s jacket pocket, you pointed at the man, “Newton is being a bit naughty.”

Pickett silently nodded and quickly wiggled its way down his shirt.

“Oh no,” Newt mumbled as he started giggling from Pickett’s little feet crawling on his sensitive skin and he erupted into a full belly laughter as it found its way to his belly and bellybutton. Not wanting to crush his companion, Newt just sat on the couch and submitted to his ticklish hell. You grinned and suddenly an alarm went off on your watch.

“Time for my meds,” you got up and walked over to the kitchen where you kept your antidepressants, you knew if it wasn’t for the medication and love from your best friend, you wouldn’t be where you are now.

You swallowed your medication with a big glass of apple juice and smiled as Newt was still laughing and hiccuping, you gently cradled the baby Niffler in your arms as its big eyes scanned for anything shiny.

As you looked around and listened to Newt’s happy laughter, feeling the soft fur of the Niffler, hearing different sounds and squawks coming from the basement, you realized that life was difficult and unfair to you at first, but you were so glad a small Hufflepuff boy had grabbed you off of that ledge all those years ago.

#fantastic beasts and where to find them #ticklish!newt #ticklish!newt scamander #reader insert #tickle fic #depression #hufflepuff #fantastic beasts fic

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schizophelia · 7 years ago

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February 21st, 2018: Journal

Okay. I’m agitated but I’m going to try to write a journal for today as it was a productive day.

Woke up early but fell back asleep. I woke up to music playing and voices talking. But they weren’t singing to the music... they were just talking over it. Anyway, the music stopped playing but the voices remained for the day. I think that was one of the reasons why I am so agitated lately. Things are not good.

Dad make broccoli with cheese for lunch which was good. After lunch we went to town to get the car looked at because there’s an oil leak somewhere. The dealership where we got it had to look at it. They couldn’t find the leak because it was really oily under the car so they shampooed the car and want us to drive it over the next week or so and then take it back in to get it looked at again to see where the leak is. We’ve only had this car since August- not very long. We hardly drive it (it literally sits in our parking lot and we drive the other shitty car until it breaks down like it usually does). It was pre-owned but they shouldn’t have sold it to us if it had an oil leak. So my parents are kind of frustrated with that. But it’s okay.

After we got home from town, we let the dogs out to play for a bit and then my dad and I watched a movie until my mom got home. I think the movie was called “Red Dawn” on Netflix. It was an okay movie. I had a hard time sitting still and watching it. My dad was complaining because I wasn’t still and kept making noise. My focus and concentration were horrible. We took breaks throughout it. My mom came home towards the end of the movie and after the movie we ate dinner. That was fine. Then we watched the 6pm news. There is a boy missing because of all the flooding that we had over the past couple of days. It rained so much that the snow melted and flooded roads and rivers. Basements were flooded in several towns and cities. It’s wicked, really. I haven’t seen a flood this bad in years. And there is more rain coming on Friday. Luckily our basement didn’t flood and neither did our shed because my dad dug out a path for the water to travel away from the shed before the rain actually came.

I showered today after not showering for a few days. My mom told me I had to so I did. They have to remind me to take care of myself and my room because I don’t do it otherwise. It’s not because I don’t want to... it’s because I can’t find the motivation or energy to do it. When my mom or dad reminds to shower, I have to do it because they’ll kick me out if I protest and I don’t have a back-up plan on where to go if they do. I’m just staying here until school starts in September... if I get into the school I want.

I don’t think I will study Psychology at University. My mom made a point about me not being able to handle 8-10 years of school to become a clinical psychologist like I hoped to do. I haven’t been in school for 3 years almost. I can’t concentrate on a movie for an hour... how am I going to sit through 3 hour lectures and stuff? In addition to my University applications, I also applied to Colleges for Child and Youth Care, Social Service Worker, and Pharmacy Technician programs at various Colleges. I got into the Pharmacy Technician program but that is my back-up plan if I don’t get into the other programs at the other College I hope to go to. That’s where my best friend attends for Computer Programming.

My best friend is really sick. She’s not attending classes, sleeping properly, or taking care of herself. Her ex boyfriend (who is also a friend of mine) and messaged me and said that she drunk texted him one night. That’s not like her because she literally hates alcohol. It started with OCD for her where she HAD to clean the entire upstairs of her shared house before she could sleep. She said she wouldn’t sleep because she had to clean. Then she became very depressed and stressed. I’m concerned about her because she’s been my friend for years. Probably 10+. We went to elementary school together. She’s my best friend and I want her to get the help she needs. She and her doctor agreed not to change her Zoloft yet when they met last month. Her doctor thought her sleep was impacting her depression but I think it’s her depression impacting her sleep. I told her to ask to switch antidepressants because I don’t think the Zoloft is helping. I’ve been on a lot of medications and know when it’s time to tell someone it’s not working. She’s been on it since September or October and she’s not any better. She said she sees her doctor this week. Hopefully they get it sorted out soon.

Today I saw a demon dog and heard the sound of the mutant the government agents sent out months ago. It hasn’t hurt me yet but it’s intimidating. I didn’t see mutant yet today but I could hear it lurking in the shadows of my mom and dad’s bedroom. It growled at me. When I do see it, it’s huge. Like, I’m talking as tall as the ceiling. As for the demon dog, I used to see them all the time. They belong to the shadow demons. They mean harm. But I think the one I saw today didn’t hurt me because my dad was there. They prey on when I am alone. Sometimes they chase me. They were one of the reasons why I never went outside when this whole mess started back a few years ago. This isn’t anything new.

The voices are singing to the song I am listening to but they aren’t really getting the words right. It’s one of my favourites too and they’re ruining it. My one friend asked me if I thought things were getting worse. Honestly, I don’t know. They never really got that much better. Maybe a little since the Invega increase weeks ago but not much. I still hear voices... I still see things. And according to my friends, I’m still having delusions. One stranger on the internet said I’m living in a false reality... a major delusion and until I realize that, I won’t get better. I’m trying, okay? How to I abandon everything I’ve known for a long time to something else just because someone else tells me it. Like how do I gain the trust enough to believe you all? How? Because I’m having one hell of a time over here. I feel like I know the truth. That everything everyone tells me is a lie. This is a nightmare for me.

I’ve been sleeping okay. Sometimes I need naps during the day but for the most part, I sleep okay. I don’t know where I would be without the Temazepam. I probably wouldn’t sleep without it. Now I get a few hours of sleep each night. It’s nice to be able to sleep again. I hate lying awake all night with nothing to do like I was doing before the Temazepam. Temazepam isn’t supposed to be taken long-term but it’s the only thing that’s helping me sleep right now. And I know I need it to sleep. There was a point when I tried 15mg of it to sleep but it stopped being effective so I increased in to 30mg (my dose range is 15mg-30mg so I am okay). Speaking of Temazepam, it’s almost time to take it. I will take it when I finish this journal for the day.

My appointment with my social worker was cancelled yesterday. But I meet with my doctor on Friday at 1pm if I got the time correctly. I doubled checked when I went to pick up my Fetzima last week and the secretary said it was Friday. I was confused because normally he doesn’t do OP (out-patient) on Friday. But I think he is because my appointment got cancelled and because of Family Day this past Monday. Hopefully things go smoothly because I need to tell him some things that my friends pointed out... and soon. It’s been almost 6 weeks since I’ve seen him and that’s a long time. Normally my wait time is 3-4 weeks. My friends think I need to see him more often but I don’t want to because the drive there to see him takes like 40 minutes. I see my social worker every 1-2 weeks. Though it’s been more than 2 weeks since I’ve seen her because she cancelled yesterday due to the fog. That’s okay. My mom said it was really thick and that there were vehicles in the ditch on the way to work yesterday morning. I have a feeling that my doctor’s appointment will get cancelled again or there will be some sort of complication on Friday. Why? Because every time I need to see him, I can’t. It’s just how it works. I don’t get my hopes up for things like these because I often get disappointed.

I know there are some of my friends that are struggling right now and if you guys ever see this, please stay strong. You are loved and I want you to know that. I think about you all the time and when I’m not talking to you, I’m thinking about you. Please hold on. I know life is hard and stuff, but there are good moments too. You can’t have good without the bad. You don’t deserve any bad things that happen to you, but those are the cards you were dealt. It sucks, I know. But I’m here if you ever want to talk. My inbox is always open. I may not know what to say sometimes, but I am always there to lend an ear. Okay? Please hold on. Please don’t give up. You’re all so beautiful and I love you. Sometimes I may not show it, but I do. You mean a lot to me and I don’t know what I’d do if I lost one of you. <3

Meds Invega 9mg Fetzima 80mg Temazepam 15-30mg (Taking 30mg)

#personal #journal #medication #Invega #Fetzima #temazepam #agitated #voices #family #friends #college #university #appointment anxiety #delusions #hallucinations #i love you #stay strong

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backofthebookshelf · 7 years ago

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After coming on two months of depression, and emerging from three weeks or more of a really serious episode, I'm starting to feel human again. There are things I want to do, even if I don't have the energy to do them. I miss writing, so I'm doing a very little bit of it, here and there. I've been slowly cleaning my apartment. I'm seeing a therapist again, and my doctor upped my dose on my antidepressants. That hasn't really had a chance to take effect yet - it hasn't been quite two weeks - but I'm doing all the right things. I am tired of this happening every summer, though. I'm back to thinking about my projects. Despite what I said initially about letting myself get overwhelmed, I think I am going to just go ahead and work on all three. That means extending deadlines - rather than working on one project intensively for six months and having something done at the end of it, I might not have anything done until the end of next year. But I'm bad at focusing. I know this about myself, so why fight it: much better to have three things that I can switch between when one of them doesn't work for me. Structured Procrastination in action. (Note to self: do talk to the doctor about ADHD.) In aid of that, I've been slowly plugging away on the various projects. I've made three sets of stitch markers destined for the Etsy store, which I quite like. I bought food coloring and Kool-Aid and white wool in worsted and fingering weights to test out dyeing; that probably won't happen for a couple of weeks now, but it's all ready for me to start. I backed a couple of podcasts on Patreon so that I can get transcripts, which will help me figure out how to write my own podcast scripts, and started making notes for an outline for the first episode. The writing has been the furthest-back-burner so far, but I'm looking forward to getting started. Every time I come out of a particularly long period of writer's block, my solution seems to be to throw money at the problem and buy myself new Writing Paraphernalia. Since I'm still using most of it, though, I don't feel too bad about it. This time I'm thinking of spending some of the money from the bonus I got for working though the library's renovation on a drop-front desk to be used solely for creative writing. Target's got a small one that I think will fit perfectly in a corner of my bedroom, so this weekend I'm taking measurements and most likely placing orders. I've tried so often to get a dedicated writing space, but it's hard when you move a lot and live in one-bedroom apartments. I have all but decided not to move this fall when my lease comes up for renewal. There are cheaper places to be had, but not many, and nothing so far that looks unambiguously better than what I have. I have come to realize that I like having roots, that it takes me a long time to feel really at home somewhere, and that I strongly dislike moving. I haven't quite convinced myself yet to try to buy a condo, but it's looking more and more possible in the next couple of years. I just don't fully trust the possibility of selling it again if I get a job elsewhere, which knowing my luck will be immediately after closing on a place. comments from the wicked king of parody http://ift.tt/2v73lF6 via IFTTT

#dreamwidth

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onlyhiddenremains-blog · 6 years ago

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A Big Ol’ Update About Life And Depression

It’s been a really long time. It’s hard to give this any semblance of an introductions, so i’ll be cutting to the chase and just saying it all here. To those who checked up on me and worried, thank you and I apologize if I’ve brought your mood down.

I normally don’t tell people how I feel or what i’m going through. I try my best to keep my emotions bottled to push on with the current things involving my living and work situations, which admittedly haven’t been very stable. Late November of last year, I moved and went from California to Fort Worth, Texas. As happy as I was to finally be alone(with a roomie so not totally alone) in a new place, a lot of baggage I kept pushed down shot out a month into living in Texas. All my fears of not changing, of still being a cruel and terrible person shot out, and more so, my friend/roomie basically called me a loser and that I hadn’t changed...

LET ME BE CLEAR

I..have tried my best to not think of myself in this way. I’ve had ex partners, old and fake friends, even family reverberate this sentiment. For years, it clung to me, and I wanted to believe making it Texas was proof I wasn’t. I wanted to think, and I still think I’m not this dysfunctional loser who won’t amount to anything. My self esteem and self worth aren’t very high, this coupled with every thought and harsh sentiment shared peaked into a mental breakdown and me wanting to commit suicide in Texas. My friend had taken me to the hospital and I was under psychological evaluation for more than 12 hours...

AS STUPID AS IT WAS

Rather than go to therapy, take antidepressants, or talk with someone I kept doing what I did always, that being drink to get drunk, stress, and cry. Miraculously, my friend and I had put enough money away to get the cheapest ticket back to California. 4 whole months of festering emotionally and toiling made me give up on the idea of living in Texas, among many other things by that point. It’s at the time of this writing, been a whole month since my return to California, and I’ve never felt so low. Throughout all this time I’ve kept thinking about RH and all the things I planned for this year. I still want to pursue it, for me if no one else, but my mental health hasn’t been great in a long, long time.

EVEN NOW

My mental health isn’t the best, but I have been making more positive changes to combat it. As apprehensive as I am to trust others or myself, I’ve been slowing my mind down and checking my negative thoughts better lately. A past me couldn’t have written any of this out. The current me still needs a lot of work, especially on working my emotions out. Cutting and bottling up emotions isn’t healthy. Hopefully me sharing this puts me at ease, or better yet helps someone going through thoughts of self deprecation and depression. It’s a very one day at a time thing. A good friend named Dylan said it best

I HAVE SOMETHING, AND LOVED ONES.

- R H

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i-write-shakespeare-not-disney · 8 years ago

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Warm Me Up Ch. 31

THANK YOU FOR FOLLOWING @tiny-angry-demigods !!! Please, keep following! Good job, you’ve unlocked the chapter :)

Click Here for Ch. 1

Click Here for Ch. 30

index

He couldn’t stop pacing. His psychiatrist kept her eyes steady on him, following him and waiting patiently for him to speak. Finally, he turned to her and sighed. “I don’t know what I’m doing. I… I’m terrified. I shouldn’t be terrified.” He crossed his arms and groaned. “I can’t stop shaking. I thought this was supposed to stop.”

His psychiatrist hummed and checked her board. “You’ve been taking Zoloft for… two months, right?” Nico nodded. “Like I said, we have to move up slowly. It’s not regulating you yet, so I’m going to go ahead and increase the dose, okay?” Nico grit his teeth as she scribbled on a clipboard. Then she looked up and smiled. “Now, about this date. Was he nervous when he asked?” Nico shrugged and nodded. “Do you think he might feel just as scared as you at this point?”

“No,” he said immediately. “Will… he’s so put together. He’s stronger. Maybe he’s nervous but… I’m so scared, I get nauseous. And I don’t know why.”

She leaned forward and interlocked her hands, her eyes never leaving Nico’s. It was slightly disturbing the way she would look him in the eyes so consistently when Nico could barely hold her gaze for more than five seconds. “You mentioned before that the reason you stayed friends was because he said he couldn’t trust you. Right?” Nico nodded. “Do you trust yourself?”

The question caught Nico by surprise. He hadn’t expected to be asked that. He expected something like, “Do you think he trusts you? Do you trust him?” Something easier to answer. But this question was about him. About his feelings towards himself.

After a moment of deliberation, he sat and shook his head. “No. I don’t think I can be enough for him. I’m scared I’ll mess up again and hurt him.” He looked down at his hands. “I know that people say you have to learn to love yourself before you can love someone else. But… I’ve lived for so long hating myself, looking for ways to self-destruct. I can’t get rid of that in a few months. But Will…. He’s… incredible. He’s wonderful. It’s so easy to love him. He deserves it, and I want to show him that. And the fact that he deserves so much and that he’s so wonderful is what makes me so afraid to hurt him. I feel like I’m being selfish because I want to be with him knowing how unstable I am.”

The psychiatrist placed her chin in her hand and hummed. “Have you ever tried to look at your progress, Nico? I know you’re very hard on yourself because you see the things you still want to work on. But I think it’s important that you look back on how far you’ve come.” Nico frowned and remained quiet. “When you came in to see me, you’d been meeting with Raven for about a month. And you told me that even with her, you never thought you’d walk in to a therapist’s office after your experience as a kid. When you talked with me, you told me about everything you used to do. The drinking, the partying, the way you used to interact with people, the way you’d find ways to hurt yourself.

“That person you were is not who you are now. What do you think that Nico would say if he met you? This sober version that hasn’t hurt themselves and is taking antidepressants and getting help by meeting with the psychiatric services here and who cares so much about someone?”

Nico blinked rapidly, letting his gaze drift to the window where the trees were an intense dark green, contrasting with the light blue sky, the sunlight filtering in. “I wouldn’t have believed it was me,” he answered softly. “It would’ve seemed to unreal. Too good to be true. I never saw any other way besides screwing around.” He bit his lip and remembered the way Will tried to make Nico see that he had in fact changed, that he had gotten better. “I guess I’m not as fucked up as I used to be.”

“And don’t you think Will knows this?”

Nico looked at her and thought back to the first encounter he’d had with Will. How rude he’d been. How a few days later, he was stumbling drunk, hitting on him, then throwing up in his bathroom. Will knew what he was like. And he still became his friend. He still dated him. And now that Nico had tried so hard to change for the better, he was still there.

Finally, he nodded. “So if you take a step back, do you think you should still feel so terrified? Don’t you think you should try trusting yourself a little more? And maybe the first step to that is to go on this date and… enjoy it? You’ve been waiting for this for a while now.”

“Almost four months to be exact,” he murmured. He took a deep breath and nodded. “You’re right. I can do this. I’ve been better. He knows me better than anyone. There’s no expectations to meet.”

“Now, back to the medication. I know you said you were very aggravated with the fact that you felt it wasn’t working. It’s understandable. It’s still a low dose, and I know it can be stressful, but this is how we prepare your body for the changes in hormones. We will find the dose that will regulate your emotions.” Nico nodded, feeling apprehensive, but wanting desperately to believe her. “I’ll send in the prescription when we’re done. Remember to keep taking them every day in the morning, okay? And if you do start feeling better, keep taking them. Stopping abruptly can harm you. Keep me posted.”

“Okay,” he answered, tugging the hem of his shirt anxiously. “Thank you.”

She smiled and opened the door for him. “And Nico? Good luck on your date.” He smiled gratefully at her and walked out of the office. He waved at the receptionist and left the building.

Later that night, after hours of pacing and jitters and deliberation over what to wear, there was a knock on his door. Taking a deep steadying breath, Nico walked over and opened the door.

He was left speechless at the sight of Will, his head ducked down, but his bright blue eyes focused on Nico, dressed casually, and holding a single black rose in one hand. He gulped and stared at this beautiful, gorgeous, perfect person in front of him and tried to get his heart to calm down.

“Hey,” he managed to whisper, not trusting his voice to be much louder. He was filled with nervous butterflies and he hadn’t been able to stop shaking.

Will seemed completely relaxed as he held out the flower. “Hi. This is for you.” Nico began to smile and blush as he reached for the flower. “I thought we should have something that set this apart as a date. I know flowers might be a bit feminine, but-”

“I love it,” he interrupted. “Thank you.” He smiled at the large, dark petals and took another slow breath. “Let me put this in water.” He turned away and filled a cup with water, placing the rose in it. He hoped he remembered to press the flower before it wilted. He wanted to remember this.

When he placed the cup on the counter, Will stepped toward him and touched his arm. “Ready to go?” Nico glanced up at him and smiled, feeling like the luckiest person in the world. He nodded and Will smiled back at him with his own rosy blush dusting his cheeks. He bit his lip and slid his hand into Nico’s, causing Nico’s heart to stop. “Come on.”

They walked out to the car, the warmth of Will’s hand steadying Nico jitters. “Where are we going?” he asked.

“You’ll see. When I tell you to, close your eyes.” Nico frowned and looked out the window.

“That’s not terrifying at all, Mr. Serial Killer.” Will laughed aloud and Nico’s laugh filled the car as well, fueled by the nervousness and anxiety he felt. He bit his lip and looked at their interlocked hands over the gear shift. “Hey, Will?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m nervous,” he whispered.

Will’s hand tightened around Nico’s, and he turned his head to look at Nico with a gentle smile. “Yeah. Me too,” he answered. “I’m not sure why.” Nico chuckled and leaned his head against the window.

Lights blurred past them as they drove through the downtown area and Nico frowned when they didn’t stop anywhere. The lights began to diminish as they left downtown for the other side of the city. Then Will squeezed his hand. “Okay, close your eyes. Don’t peek if you want a second date.”

Nico laughed at that, but did as he was told, screwing his eyes shut. Slowly, the car came to a stop and Will’s hand slipped out of his. Nico heard the door shut and fumbled blindly for his own door handle. A few seconds later, the door opened and Will’s hands took his. “I’ve got you, you dork,” he said affectionately. Nico stuck his tongue out at him and stepped carefully as Will led him.

He heard the door shut and the double-beep that signaled the car lock. They were outside, but that was all Nico could tell based on the ground beneath him and the sounds around them. Will’s hands cupped his eyes as he walked behind him and whispered directions in his ear.

“Almost. A few more steps. Okay. Ready?” Nico nodded, wondering what could be so special about whatever Will was trying to surprise him with on a first date. “Open your eyes.”

Nico did, and it took a few seconds for his eyes to adjust to his surroundings. The first thing he saw were colorful lights. He realized they were the lights of the building downtown. They were in a cluster of bright colors, far enough away so Nico couldn’t hear the chaos of weekend nightlife, but close enough to still distinguish between buildings.

Then he noticed the trees around him, and the slope of the ground which lead to a still, dark lake. The lake reflected the moonlight and even the peaks of the city buildings. He looked up and saw a bright half-moon surrounded by more stars than he could see from his apartment.

It was a beautiful place. He turned to Will, but realized he wasn’t behind him anymore. He was on a picnic blanket with an electric lantern placed beside him, fumbling with a Sonic bag. Nico walked over to him and tilted his head questioningly.

“I got you your favorite,” he said. “The first time we went anywhere we went to Sonic. I thought it’d be a nice thing to reminisce.” He held out a large Sonic cup. “Cherry Slush?”

Nico bit his lip and kneeled down in front of him. “You are absolutely perfect, Will Solace.” Will let out a nervous chuckle, and Nico could see the blush in the light of the lantern. He took his food and slushie and looked out at the scenery before them. “How did you find this place?”

“After long days at the hospital, I like to drive around a little before going to your place. It clears my head and gives me time to shake off the stress,” he explained. “I wasn’t really paying attention to where I was going, and I ended up here once. The first thing I thought when I saw it was that I wanted to bring you.”

Nico smiled and chewed on a fry. “Well it’s way nicer than a dusty dirt road littered with beer caps and cigarette butts.” He smiled and looked at Will who seemed to mull that comment over for a moment.

“You know, I actually like it there too.” Nico raised an eyebrow, but Will didn’t elaborate.

As they ate, they filled the night air with mindless talk, comfortable in each other’s presence. When they were done eating, Will had barely let Nico put his trash away before he was pulling him up. “Have you ever skipped stones before?”

“No actually,” Nico said as Will led him down the slope to the lake. Will used his phone to search for rocks and stuffed them in his pocket as he went. Nico couldn’t help but smile at him. When he got back, Nico raised an eyebrow at him. “So we’re going to throw rocks… at water?” he asked with a teasing smile.

“I mean, I understand if you don’t want to. You already know I’ll be better at it anyway.” He shrugged and Nico scoffed.

“Okay, bring it on, Solace,” he answered, holding his hand out for rocks. Will gave him a handful of smooth, flat rocks to fling. Will went first flicking the rock, making it skip four times before plumping into the depths of the water. The ripples made the lights distort artistically.

“It’s in the flick of your wrist,” Will explained, when Nico looked at his rock uncertainly. “Flat side has to hit the surface.” He fixed the stone in his hand and motioned his wrist. “Got it?”

Nico nodded and did as he was told, but the rock only skipped twice. Without even looking at Will, Nico covered his cocky smirk with his hand and pushed him back. “Shut up,” he muttered. Will laughed and they took turns skipping stones across the lake, resorting to attempts to sabotage each other’s throws, then bursting into laughter anytime a stone simply plopped into the water.

Nico was getting better, and if he managed to get away from the nudges and tickle attempt Will provided, he was able to manage four skips. They were down to their last stone, and it was Will’s throw. Nico waited until his arm was gaining momentum before running and jumping onto Will’s back, tackling him down and ruining the throw.

“That would’ve been my best one!” he whined under him. Nico rested his on his shoulder and faked an evil laugh. Will raised an eyebrow and turned over, tossing Nico over. Before he could stand, Will clambered onto him and tickled him mercilessly.

“No! No, no, no! Please, no more! I’m begging you!” he cackled breathlessly.

Will covered his mouth, stifling his own laughter. “People are going to think I’m murdering you!” he hissed fighting off chuckles.

“No more, please,” he begged, interlocking his hands with Will’s before they could tickle him again. “You win,” he surrendered.

“Oh, I’m sorry, what was that?”

“I said you win,” Nico said, indulging him with a roll of his eyes.

“What?” Will prodded.

Nico laughed and began to shout. “I said that you win! Will Solace has won at skipping stones! Give him a trophy! Put his name in the hall of fame!”

“I don’t appreciate the sarcasm,” he said with a smile. “But thank you.” He laid down beside Nico and they looked up at the sky, their hands interlocked, their shoulders touching, their breaths synchronizing with each other’s.

After a few moments of silence, staring up at the stars, Nico spoke. “You know… in a week, I’ll be four months sober,” he whispered. He wondered if the night had swallowed his words or if he’d even said them.

Then Will responded, “Has it really been four months?” Nico hummed and sighed. Almost four months since he’d almost died of alcohol poisoning. Almost four months since he told Will the truth and tried to win him back. Almost four months of them trying to rebuild the trust that had been lost. And now they were on a date. “How do you feel?”

“Clean,” he answered softly. “Not really like a new person. Just… a little more coherent. More memories. Less headaches.” More you. I’m better because of you. You gave me a reason to care.

Somehow, Nico didn’t think a first date was the best time to say that, though. “I’m happy to hear that,” he answered. Will turned on his side, and Nico did the same, facing him. Will’s eyes were on their hands, their fingers weaving together and apart playfully.

His eyes flickered up to Nico, the pupils large, and only a thin rim of sparkling blue reflecting back at him. Nico felt his heart skip a beat and he even felt dizzy. All just because Will looked at him.

Then he asked, “Will you dance with me?” in such a soft voice, that Nico had to focus to process them.

“Okay,” he answered.

Will smiled and stood, pulling Nico up with him. They treaded up the slope back to their picnic blanket and Will went over to his car. He turned it on and plugged his phone in, leaving the door open so the sound could flow toward them.

Of course, a slow song began to play and Will held out his hand. Nico took it and wrapped his arms around Will, loving the way he fit perfectly against him. He kept his eyes on his shoulder as they swayed, wondering how he could have gotten so lucky as to fall in love with someone so beautiful, so wonderful, so forgiving and encouraging.

He loved Will Solace more than he thought possible. It didn’t even matter if he didn’t like himself. He couldn’t care less about the hatred he had for himself, because he was too focused on loving Will with everything he could. He wanted him back.

He wanted to have him back and never let go again. He wanted endless dates and endless silly contests and endless fast food and endless slow dances. He wanted to hold him and be held by held him every night. He wanted their hands interlocked on every drive and every walk.

With these desires in mind, he leaned his head against Will’s shoulder. Suddenly, Will began to hum, and the humming turned into singing. Nico realized he had never heard Will sing. He’d heard him rap, he’d heard him mutter along to the radio, but he’d never heard him actually sing.

And now he was. He was singing softly in his ear with a voice so melodious and a seductive rasp that it gave Nico chills, and he could only hold onto him tighter. The lyrics seemed to taunt him. He lifted his head and Will looked at him, leaning his forehead against Nico’s.

Silver moon’s sparkling… so kiss me… so kiss me….

Nico opened his eyes and met Will’s. Kiss me, kiss me, kiss me, he begged silently. Slowly, Will leaned forward and Nico’s hand slid to his neck.

Then the night was pierced with a girl singing, “This is a shout out to my ex,” blindsiding them and shattering the moment. Confusion settled in both of their features, before they both burst into laughter at the irony, the timing, the lyrics.

“I don’t know why that song came up next,” Will said. “That’s a song Kayla likes.” Will went to lower the volume and returned, letting the music play as it pleased.

Nico stuffed his hands in his pockets, feeling slightly unsettle by the almost-kiss. “I’ve never heard you sing before,” he offered, hoping to ease the tension. Will blushed and began to stammer, but Nico only smiled. “I like your voice. It’s soothing.”

Will bit his lip and rubbed his neck. “Thanks,” he said softly. “Ready to go home?”

“Yeah,” he answered. Except he wasn’t. He wanted more time. He felt like the end of the date would cause a shift in their friendship, especially if they ended it on an almost kiss. Still, he helped pick up their trash as Will gathered the blanket and the lantern. He tossed it in the trunk and they both got into the car.

The ride back wasn’t as awkward. Once Will’s hand slipped into Nico’s again, they were both able to breathe and relax.

As they arrived at Nico’s apartment, Will got out of the car to walk him to the door. Nico unlocked it and turned to face Will with a smile. “This was the best first date anyone could’ve asked for,” he said. “Thank you.”

Will smiled widely and took his hand. “So… about that second date?”

“I’ll go on a hundred dates with you,” he answered honestly. Will blushed and bit his lip. “Will I see you tomorrow?”

“I’ll be here first thing in the morning,” he promised. “Goodnight, Nico.” He leaned forward and kissed his cheek gently.

Before he pulled away completely, Nico pulled him in by the nape of his neck and pressed his lips almost desperately against Will’s.

He couldn’t help himself. He had longed for a kiss from Will for so long, and he was so close, and he didn’t want to let him walk away. Maybe if he hadn’t kissed his cheek, Nico wouldn’t have pulled him into an actual kiss.

But he had, and now they were kissing. They were kissing for the first time in a long time. But it still felt like the first kiss Nico had ever experienced.

Will’s arms wrapped around him, and Nico’s hands slid into his hair as he pressed himself closer to Will. They pulled apart breathlessly, noses brushing, eyes unfocused.

“Wow,” Will breathed.

“I couldn’t help myself,” Nico answered sheepishly.

“Good.” And before Nico could reply, Will was kissing him again, wiping his brain of every thought aside from this kiss. His lips parted, and Nico took his chance to bite his lower lip.

Hoping to make him stay, Nico tugged him in, never breaking their kiss, and shut the door. He pressed Will against it, kissing him with desperate fervor. “Stay with me,” he whispered against his lips. “Stay.”

Will kissed him, grazing his lip with his teeth, causing a shiver to course through Nico. “Okay,” he answered. The tips of his fingers caressed the side of his face, making Nico sigh contentedly. “God, I missed you,” he whispered.

Nico took his hand and pressed soft kissed against the knuckles. “Come on,” he murmured. He pulled him to his room, kicking his shoes off. He offered Will a shirt and a pair of shorts which he took and changed into while Nico brushed his teeth. Nico changed into his own PJ’s and was happy to see Will laying on his bed comfortably.

Without another word, Nico crawled onto the bed and slid into the crook of his arm, wrapping an arm around him. “Can I ask you something?” he whispered.

“Anything,” Will answered, stroking his arm.

“How long until you love me again?”

Will froze and Nico risked glancing up at him. The only light in the room came from a lamp on the bedside table, and still, Nico could see the confusion on Will’s face. He turned to Nico, his eyes skimming his face, his hand at his cheek. “Nico, I never stopped,” he answered. Nico’s eyebrows went up and his lips parted in surprise.

“After everything…?” he asked softly.

Will smiled fondly and kissed his forehead. The action was somehow sweeter than the kiss at the door. “You’re so dense sometimes, Neeks.”

Nico grunted and propped himself up onto his elbow, narrowing his eyes at Will. “Don’t call me that,” he muttered.

Will chuckled and kissed his lips lightly. “Okay. I’m sorry.” He pulled him back down and pulled the blanket up over them before wrapping his arms around him. Nico was exhausted, but he refused to shut his eyes. He busied himself by trying to count Will’s freckles and running his hands through his hair.

After a while, Will’s hand grabbed Nico’s and he opened his eyes. “Why aren’t you asleep?”

“I don’t want to go to sleep,” he answered.

Will raised an eyebrow as Nico stifled a yawn. “Go to sleep,” he chuckled.

Nico shook his head. “I’m scared you’ll disappear if I do. I’m scared to wake up and realize this never happened or something.”

“It did happen. I’ll be here when you wake up. I promise,” he whispered. He kissed his nose and held him tightly, making Nico feel small and safe.

Despite himself, Nico felt his eyelids trying to shut. “Will?” he mumbled. Will hummed. “I love you.” Then finally, he succumbed to sleep.

Will felt Nico’s body loosen the second he fell asleep. He opened his eyes and smiled to himself at the sight of his sleeping face. He looked younger. There was no furrow in his eyebrows, no scowl or suspicious glare. His lips were slightly parted as he breathed. His hands clung to the shirt Will was wearing. He was absolutely beautiful and an absolute precious dork.

And Will loved him so much it drove him crazy.

Click Here for Ch. 32

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