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Why does Sylvian hates himself?

(This ended up being really long whoops)

*cracks knuckles* time to talk about my boy

[All quotes taken from the Fire Emblem Fandom Wiki, so there may be some slight inaccuracies]

Okay so first off Sylvain grew up in a shitty environment, to say the absolute least, and that fucks with your head.

First: his brother. He attempted to kill Sylvain on multiple occasions as kids because Sylvain had a Crest. And Sylvain just like, accepts that??? You can see that a lot in his A support with Byleth. He talked about being shoved in a well and being left on a mountain in winter by his brother, and almost immediately followed up with “I have no right to complain” because he, in theory, got lucky: he got the Crest.

And you figure, he would’ve grown up apologizing and made to feel guilty just for existing. You can see in his dialogue against Miklan, in chapter five:

Miklan: Hmph! Hurry up and die already. If not for you… If it hadn’t been for you…

Sylvain: Shut up! I’m so tired of hearing that. You’ve always blamed me for something that isn’t my fault.

He’s definitely been saying that since they were kids. That kinda stuff really fucks with your sense of self-worth after a while.

Then we have the rest of his family. We don’t hear anything about his mother, or much about his father, but we can infer some things about the latter: Margrave Gautier disowned, abandoned, and cast aside his first son in favor of the one with a Crest. Considering the dialogue about “everything being taken away” from Miklan, it’s possible that he was being raised to be the next Margrave, because someone had to inherit–with Crests becoming less common, who knows how long it would’ve taken to get a kid with one, if they got one at all? They needed a backup plan. And then Sylvain came along, with the minor Crest of Gautier, and suddenly Miklan didn’t exist. That’s fucked up, and it shows how little Margrave Gautier cared about his kids. I honestly doubt he showed Sylvain any kind of affection or attention growing up, and probably only interacted with him for inheritance- and Crest-related reasons. To him, Sylvain was a walking Crest, not a person (Sylvain’s fear of people only ever wanting him for his Crest, and not as a person in any respect, had to come from somewhere).

(And, if I can add a bit of an aside, I feel like this is the root of his philandering. Makes me think of the whole “even negative attention is better than nothing” kinda thing. You figure, Little Sylvain would have been incredibly touch-starved and desperate for attention. Humans are a social species and we literally need attention and affection to live well. I mean, he flirted with Ingrid’s grandmother when he was eight. I can only imagine what he said/did if Ingrid remembered it, considering she would have been five or six at the time. And kids that young don’t really know any better yet. Poor kid probably just wanted attention.)

(Additional aside that came to mind while writing this: I wonder if seeing the arrangement between Ingrid and Glenn affected this at all? Like yeah marriages in that kind of setting were purely political and such, but Ingrid was engaged to Glenn because (a) House Fraldarius was a powerful, well-to-do noble family and House Galatea really needed the resources, and (b) Ingrid was desirable as a wife because she had a Crest. Of course, we don’t know the exact circumstances of the arrangement, but we can infer from her other prospects. Sylvain still would have essentially seen Ingrid being used for leverage because of her Crest.)

So long before the events of the game, Sylvain is already pretty fucked up, emotionally. Trauma does that to you, especially when you have an “everyone else has it worse and I, actually, got lucky, so it doesn’t count and I’m not allowed to feel bad about it” complex. Survivor’s guilt is a hell of a drug lemme tell you. Sylvain has already internalized that,

He’s only good for his Crest

Any negative feelings about his Crest don’t matter, because those without have it worse.

No one will ever truly see him as a person–he’s just a Crest.

Already, that’s a pretty fucked up view of oneself.

By the time he gets to Garreg Mach, he has a carefully crafted persona set up: He’s an asshole, a liar, a serial flirt and cheater, dumb as a box of rocks, and a self-proclaimed “good-for-nothing.” In his B support with Dedue, you hear that people describe him as “indefensibly worthless,” which is followed by,

Sylvain: Indefensibly? Heh, that’s a bit harsh.

Dedue: I already knew your reputation concerning women. But these new rumors deprive you of all redemption. I did try to correct them. But I doubt I was believed.

Sylvain: Well, thank you all the same. Listen. You don’t need to worry what people think about me. As you well know, it’s not easy to correct misunderstandings or change people’s minds. And if I’m going to behave so badly, it seems misunderstandings are inevitable.

He doesn’t even argue, just kinda brushes it off and accepts that’s just How He Is (listen, Sylvain can definitely be an asshole at times, but I have to agree with that being harsh). He doesn’t want people to expect anything from him (well, not anything good). In his supports with Annette, he’s shown to be pretty smart, but admits he hides it because the pressure it puts on him is suffocating. He kinda goes out of his way to hide his more redeeming qualities like that. Also on that point, we have this bit from his B support with Ashe,

Sylvain: […] My advice on the whole thing is just to follow your instincts. That’s what I do. If someone’s in trouble, I help them. You don’t need to be a valiant knight to know that. Doesn’t matter if the person is an ugly old man or the cutest girl you’ve ever seen, you help ‘em.

Ashe: So, you’re saying…

Sylvain: Everybody’s the same, deep down. It’s our job to help anyone who needs it.

Ashe: Ah!

Sylvain: What? You’re looking at me funny. Did I say something wrong?

Ashe: No! No. I’m just surprised, that’s all. You’re actually a much better person than I thought.

“You’re actually a much better person than I thought.” Several of his supports have some variation of this line. Usually after he does something kind. And I mean, Sylvain is a kind person, under the philandering. Most of his supports involve him helping others out somehow.

He helps Dimitri with the girl situation (he kinda got him into it in the first place but I digress)

His whole C with Dedue is pretty much “racism is stupid and I’m going to be your friend, fuck what everyone else says.”

In his supports with Felix and Ashe, he helps them out in battle, at a detriment to himself (You can also throw Byleth in here, during their A support, but he was a jerk in their C and B).

In his Annette supports, she calls him out for going easy on her during training. He admits he was, but only because he didn’t want her to feel bad because she puts so much effort into her work while he “sorta gets by on [his] wits”

Okay I need to say how much I love his supports with Bernadetta???? He does genuinely try to compliment her work, and when he sees speaking to Bernie face-to-face won’t work, he goes out of his way to write a nice and well-worded review (a fairly lengthy one, according to Bernie) and compliment of her work–which Bernadetta takes to much better than she did talking in person. And this is one of the few supports where he doesn’t try to flirt. He’s just trying to give her genuine compliments on her writing and goes out of his way to do it without upsetting her.

His support with Hilda could go a few ways, but he did return the books for her and he did apparently get yelled at for something he didn’t do and didn’t even try to deflect that. And it seems that’s not even why he confronts her later: it’s because of how her actions were detrimental to other people (”And those books you left in your room for so long? Teachers and classmates needed those. So stop lying, and maybe stop being quite as selfish too.”). It’s not until she asks if the librarian said anything that he’s like “Oh, yeah, they yelled at me.”

And a fair amount of people still see him as “indefensibly worthless.” Sylvain often goes out of his way to help people, but he tends to brush it off and keep it lowkey.

I got a little off track here, but my point for this is Sylvain projects an outward appearance of being a really shitty, deplorable person. Almost everyone he has supports with is GENUINELY surprised when they realize that no, he’s not as bad as all the rumors about him imply. Sylvain just doesn’t really want people to know. And, as much as he plays it off like he doesn’t care, that kind thing gets to you after a while. So everyone except a handful of close friends seeing him in such a negative light? It filters in eventually, even if you’re not already emotionally fucked up.

Another thing I want to point out: A lot of times, it seems like Sylvain does not give a shit about what happens to him. A few of his support conversations involve him taking a blow in battle to protect someone else (and his attitude afterward is “better me than them”). Reading his A+ with Felix, “…protecting me like that. You’re so weak and yet you always… always…” this is definitely something Sylvain has a habit of doing. Additionally, we have one of his goal requests: “The best way to impress people is to save them by diving into harm’s way. That’s what a Great Knight does, yeah?” In true Sylvain style he covers it with “I just want to impress people” but he’s still devoting his training to being the guy who jumps in front of everyone else to tank the hit. Fully committing to that kind of thing takes more than just a shallow want to “impress people.” Then there’s his Monastery line to Byleth, toward the end of Verdant Wind I believe?, where he says he fights like he wants to die. Which…. yeah.

Another line of his that sticks with me: “burn until we meet again,” after defeating an enemy post-time skip. A friend of mine pointed out it might just be dramatic, but I think about that a lot. Does he think he’s going to the 3h equivalent of hell??? Does he think he’s that terrible of a person??

Uh this turned out to be a lot longer than i thought. So I guess to sum up:

Sylvain grew up internalizing the idea that he doesn’t have any worth as a person. Everything he is and has is related to his Crest. Everything that people feel towards him is related to his Crest and not who he is as a person.

He internalized the idea that because he has a Crest, that he’s not allowed to be upset about any of this, because he got lucky.

Growing up with Miklan’s abuse, he was definitely made to feel guilty about simply daring to exist. So he grows up hating himself.

He developed an outward persona that only reinforced these ideas–he makes and lets people believe he’s a piece of shit.

His attitude in battle shows how little he seems to care about himself.

tl;dr: Sylvain grew up without any love or affection, and was severely emotionally fucked up by his family, which complicated his relationships with other people and his view of himself as a person and his worth. He purposely projected an image of himself to support this, letting people believe he’s a shit person and doesn’t argue back because he feels it’s well-deserved. He doesn’t seem to think he’s actually worth anything. Sylvain, of course, like all people, has negative traits–that’s just part of being human. But his sense of self has been so warped and twisted over the years that he can’t seem to do anything but hate himself.

[the-sad-teapot]

just some classroom shenanigans

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Doodle this before im go to sleep..goodnight~

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Nsfw headcanons for Felix? (if nsfw isn't allowed could you make some fluff headcanons for him?)

We can definitely indulge in one of my best boys! Honestly, good luck getting him into the bedroom in the first place. Did the birds and bees lecture just go in one ear and out the other for Mr. Fraldarius??? Welp, maybe all that pent up aggression can be executed elsewhere. 

Fluff:

On days where you can keep Felix away from the training grounds for more than an hour, he likes to relax in his dorm room with you. Although he’ll have a buunch of pent up aggression and energy for the day, he likes to hold you loosely in his arms as you sit on the bed. And to think, it took him a solid month to actually hold your hand. Now he’s like a koala, clinging to you even if he doesn’t want to admit it.

To help him relax, you get him to lay on his stomach so you could press your thumbs into his tense muscles. He usually doesn’t like you giving him massages because it “makes him too unaware of his surroundings” or “the phantom pains will hinder his training”…. but you always win regardless. You care too much for your grumpy bf to let him walk around with a sore back.

If your massage plan succeeds, he gives you a shinning opportunity to lean forward and press your lips against the back of his neck. Listening to his breath hitch always makes you smile. He reaches back to intertwine your hands together, only to brush his lips across your knuckles. If you thought Felix was used to affection by now, he’s most certainly not. Whenever you initiate affection towards him, you have to take baby steps before breaching his discomforts. Even though he’s tired, don’t think he won’t return the favor soon! Even if you have to tell him to be gentle every 5 seconds….he’s trying though!

During long cuddling sessions where he can’t seem to detach himself from you, he succumbs to your warmth and curls in over you, his arm gently draped over your waist. He got used to you reaching up to gently pull his long tresses out of his loose bun, (Felix never bothered to ask why seeing him with his hair down made you so happy).

He unconsciously breathes in your scent, slowly relaxing even more as he drags you closer to his chest. Felix didn’t have to look to see that his actions were making your face red, even his own ears were flushed.

*Explicit Content Below*

Keep reading

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sibling shenanigans

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good morning felix

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it's a cliché but uh I'm weak so a scenario where Felix is being competitive as usual and it escalates to like "I bet I can kiss better than you", idk I just love those sexual tension rivalries

I love this boy, I hope I did alright o/ 

Felix is particularly frustrated today. He bites his lip as sweat drips from his furrowed brow. It is another grueling training session, with both of you exchanging blows at a lightning fast pace. He left bruises that would surely smart in the morning, although you know that you’d landed more on him than he on you. And this fact has him more irritated than usual.

“Gods, I feel like I’ve regressed! I even had you last time! How do you not ever slip, hm?”

“Well…”

“Don’t answer that,” he holds a hand up impatiently. “You can’t be good at everything.” He stands in place, trying to come up with a flaw. It is rather flattering how long it takes for him to come up with something.

Keep reading

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🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰

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smile

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A river at night

7/24/20 Thoughts

I’ve been thinking about my time when I lived in Korea for a brief time again. Perhaps it’s a mix of wanting to go back and visit and also reading about people going to the Han River and biking on the trails there.

For some reason, there only a few memories of Korea that continue to come up. I remember my quiet subway trips back from Hongdae, taking the Airport line back home. I would wait alone, listening to something on my old phone and bad earphones. I remember waiting at the end of the train for the airport line. I can remember the area so well, perhaps because I rode it so often.

I remember some nights I would get on the subway at a busy time and the train was already full by the time I got on. I remember those days I would lean close to the doors, looking at the Han River as the train passed over it. It was beautiful every time. I remember looking east, seeing the lights of the city reflecting on the Han River. I remember wanting to look out the window more than I wanted to sit down in a seat. I don’t remember the stops anymore. I just remember the river, the city lights, and the way I felt then. Melancholy? Maybe it was the music choice then. The Airborne Toxic Event, an attempt to be closer to a crush I had at the time. Maybe it wasn’t that time, but the memories of that band come up when I think of the Han River at night.

I wish to go back and ride the subway at night again, heading toward Incheon away from Seoul. I wish to ride it again to see if the same feelings come up or if the new ones I have now overwrite the old.

I remember the books I read during my subway rides when I could sit down. Norwegian Wood. The Plague. Slaughterhouse-Five.

It was early 2016. I was out of college, ready to do something with my life now. The first parts of 2016 were stressful. Do I find a job? Do I go back to school? I was waiting for my grad school admission to keep me going.

The Han River at night. I think about rivers lately as I think about where I could go to see water and do nothing for a few hours. The Colorado River comes to mind, but something about it just reminds of the Han River. Thinking of the Han River just makes me sentimental. It feels like this memory keeps coming up lately. Maybe it’s the combination of wanting rain, reminding of the sticky monsoon evenings in Korea in July. Maybe it’s me wishing to go back, see the river again.

Something about pictures doesn’t do my memory justice. My memory is mine, forever different and unique. What is it about the night and wanting to listen to something sad and melancholy? My memories of seeing the Han River on the subway dampens my spirits, makes me feel sad for some reason. I remember the sky was usually pitch black when I went home. You couldn’t really see the river, just glimmering black reflecting the city lights. Seoul was always so bright.

The subway ride always started underground from Hongdae. It would be underground for a while before finally there was a stop before the train went over the Han River bridge. There are multiple bridges, but I always was on this one. I remember that most of the train ride to my station was not underground. I would see the suburbs and their lights. Those towns weren’t as glamorous as Seoul. The stations weren’t as busy as Hongdae. I remember most of the train exiting at some point during the ride. It was much quieter by the time my stop came around.

I remember seeing that if I didn’t get off my at stop at the time, I would cross over the bridge to the airport island. I remember being hilariously nervous about accidentally staying on too long and having to pay extra.

I remember my subway station, the long walk to the entrance, my bus that I waited for. Was is it... 704-1? 904-1? Something with a -1. I remember getting on the one without it and getting lost. I remember my dad having to come pick me up somewhere way out of my town.

I remember my bus stop, in front of a church. I remember walking home from that stop. Thankfully home wasn’t too far from it. I remember one night I stopped by the convenience store near my apartment and getting some sort of snack. Was it ramen? Did I eat ramen that night before going home?

I remember Cheong-ra really well. I remember there was a river there too. Maybe it was manmade, but it was a river nonetheless. All the businesses were centered around the river, and it was canal-ro. I remember eating dinners with my family, walking the canal afterwards. I feel wistful and sentimental thinking about it now. Those memories felt like nothing important then, but now I realize how valuable and precious they were. I realize now how I will never have those memories again, but how wonderful they were. We would walk around the canal together, stop in Home Plus together. I remember my dad would take us to restaurants he wanted to go with us when we visited. He would tell us that he couldn’t go and eat at many of them because they were usually 2 person servings minimum and it wasn’t worth it usually. I remember feeling heartbroken about that.

I remember eating lunch with my mom a lot together. I should have seen how special those moments were. I wasn’t very grateful or really that pleasant back then. I regret my attitude looking back now. Those were really special memories.

Water always seems to have some way of bringing back memories for me. The Han River reminds me of my memories of Korea. The river in Cheong-ra reminds me of my memories of my family and me spending precious time together in Korea. We had never all been in Korea together for that long before.

Water shows up in so many of my favorite memories. Niagara Falls, a healing family trip before I moved to Austin. The Gulf Coast, a trip with my family and Joe. The Great Lakes, a trip with Joe’s family but also mine where I remembered how much water means to me.

Maybe that’s why I want it to rain so badly lately. It’s been dry here. It hasn’t rained in so long. I crave rain. I crave a downpour now. I remember rain in Korea too. I remember how inconvenient it was to have to take an umbrella around in Korea. Bumping into people’s umbrellas with mine. Sometimes I wished to just walk without one - let the rain hit me and soak my clothes.

When I go back to Korea, I want to spent one day not doing anything but listening to the rain. One day I want to take the train back home to Cheong-ra from Hongdae. I want to look out the subway train window, looking at the Han River. Just being there. Looking at the Han River.

[the-sad-teapot]

Q. Who do you think is the funniest member these days?

🐱Ahhhh~ Jimin Jungkook

🐱Yes, Jimin Jungkook.

🐱jimin is a bit hyper/over-tensioned but when i see them, they are just funny and cute

I find it interesting that sometimes when asked a question about a memeber, that at times they talk about JM and JK as a unit. 🥰

Translation and video cr@koomintic

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🐥 i was quite flustered (during friends stage)

🐰 'if we dont eat the dumplings, we wont fight'... what is it again?

🐥 ohh... its fine

🐥 i don't think its an important issue

🐥 (pats 🐰) 😄😆

Video cr@Peaches_BTS

Translation cr@lovemazejikook

[the-sad-teapot]

You wouldn't understand

One Friday night I tried to help everyone I encountered. I went around and watched and talked and tried to relate. But they all said the same thing.

The first was a girl sitting in a café alone, earphones in and listening to Daughter as she stared aimlessly at her laptop. She seemed tired as she had visible dark circles under her eyes. I tried to join her, but she was ice-cold and unwilling to offer me a seat. Turns out, she had originally had plans, but her friend had cancelled last minute and she was stranded till the next bus came in an hour.

“Can I join you?” I asked, hovering awkwardly near her table.

“You can’t,” She didn’t even look up. “I don’t want to talk to you.”

“But I can cheer you up!” I insisted without success. She glared at me, and silenced me immediately.

With her eyes glued to the computer screen, she hissed at me. “You wouldn’t understand.”

The next was a boy walking around campus alone, going somewhere but he wasn’t sure. He fiddled with his cell phone as he walked, anxious about meeting someone. A girl? I wasn’t sure, but he was a nervous wreck. He wasn’t as cold and let me walk next to him.

“Where are you heading?” I asked.

“She finally asked me to come over. It’s been weeks now.”

“That’s nice,” I mused. “Can I join you?”

He thought about it for a moment. “I think I’ll bring you next time. But today it’s not really about you.”

“But I was there for you so many other times before,” I said, hurt and slightly offended.

“I guess it’s different this time,” He gave me a sad smile. “You wouldn’t understand.”

Third was a girl sitting with her friends at a bar. She held her glass of beer with both hands, cupping it as if was a warm cup of tea. She stared down into beer, wishing she wouldn’t see fragments of her reflection in the beer. Her friends beckoned her to join them on the dance floor, but she gave a forced closed-lip smile and stared back into the beer.

Ever single two weekends ago, she hasn’t wanted to go out at all, but for her friend’s birthday she reluctantly agreed on joining her girlfriends at the bars.

She felt her dinner almost come up when she saw a certain guy. He seemed normal, friendly with both genders but particularly charming around the ladies.

“Something wrong with him?” I asked her, as she tried to hide her face behind her glass of beer. “Also, I think he can see you still.”

“Don’t draw attention to me,” She murmured. She sounded afraid, broken, and ashamed.

“Do your friends know?” I tried to comfort her as I watched the guy walk closer and closer toward her. “He’s basically in front of you…”

He smiled when he saw her trying to avoid looking at him. His smile almost looked like a smirk, a sneer. “Nice to see you here, Audrey.” His voice sounded sweet, but with a tint of too sweet. Almost like a candy bar that tasted perfect in the beginning, but by the end the excess of sugar would seep into the weakened enamel and begin to cause pain.

“Hi Jam-” Her voice gave way before she could finish his name.

This made him smirk even more. He let his hands find their way onto to her thigh and he leaned in as he said, “Maybe we can catch up later. I haven’t seen you in such a long time. I’ve missed you.”

She looked down; avoiding his eyes but never took his hands off her thigh. “We’ll see, James. I’m not here for you today.”

There was a flash of anger in his eyes, but it was extinguished immediately and was replaced by a well-practiced smirk. “Of course, we’re here for Abby’s birthday. Speaking of which, I should go say hello to her.” He squeezed her thigh before leaving, and said casually, “I’ll see you later.”

The moment he was gone, she downed the rest of her beer and started tearing up. The bartender looked over with concern, but said nothing.

“You can’t keep it a secret forever. If you do, you’ll never see me again,” I broke the news to her.

“Sometimes I think I just don’t care about you,” She choked back a sob. “Maybe you shouldn’t come back.”

“But I want to be there for you,” I pleaded. “Why won’t you let me help you?”

She stared at him as she said what all the others had said. “You wouldn’t understand.”

The last person I saw was a guy at his friend’s apartment, smoking and drinking like many college students would. I joined them, not partaking in the activities though. He seemed good, sharing a joint with a pretty girl and drinking nice liquor that his 21-year-old friends would supply him.

“Are you having fun?” I asked, feeling the dulled emotions in the room.

“I would say I am,” He said as he took another hit.

“Do you even need me here then? You seem to be replacing me with the drugs and drinking.” I looked around sadly.

“You know, most of us don’t even want you around.” He said honestly.

I sighed, finally defeated from many failures that night. “You’re probably right. No one wants me around. It seems everyone has found something else.”

“It’s not because we don’t want you around, it’s because it’s hard to have you around all the time.” He said, surprisingly coherent and deep from his drugged state.

“It just makes me feel unimportant. I thought everyone wanted me around, you know?”

“I guess you’d just never actually understand.”

And I guess he’s right. Happiness can never understand the emotions that aren’t happy, cheerful, lovely, and uncorrupted. It seemed that Friday night no one wanted to be happy. Are we all just content with feeling less than happy? Perhaps we are.

[the-sad-teapot]

It all happened for the best

I watched from my front porch as the last of the boxes were moved out of the house. It was a sobering moment, watching the things of your childhood being removed from the place you lived for years. I fiddled with a leaf as I waited for my parents to finish the rest of the moving.

It was a humid summer day. The air was thick with moisture as if it was ready to storm for a night or two. I wiped a drop of sweat for my forehead and then waved at my neighbor who was walking toward me. Kaylie, my longest friend and next-door neighbor of 14 years sat down next to me on the porch. She came bearing gifts, two chilled glass bottles of Corona Light. She offered me one, and I took it wordlessly.

 “Remember when we used to sneak in our parents’ liquor cabinets for alcohol?” Kaylie mused as she opened her bottle with her bare hands. I used my shirt to protect my palms. “It seems like so long ago, Mia.”

 “Well, it was a while ago. Now we’re feeling 22.” I answered, “I see you didn’t buy the good stuff for my departure.”

 “Oh, whatever,” Kaylie said, and then sipped her beer. “We both know this isn’t worth a good craft beer. We save our money for better memories.”

 “Do you ever wonder if there are better memories?” I wondered aloud. “Sometimes I feel like I’ve had all my best memories, and things are just meant to go south from here.”

Kaylie sighed, not wanting to talk about the topic we were both skating around. “It all happened for the best. You moving out from this house, probably the best thing in the past three years.”

 “I mean, sure, that’s what everyone tells me. Things are meant to happen sometime, blah blah blah. I hear all of that. My grandparents, my parents, my damn teachers even. Like literally high school teachers I haven’t spoken to in years even. And you know, half the time, I just want to go up to their faces and tell them that their sympathy means nothing to me. It’s literally shit to my ears.” I took a long sip of beer after I said that. The movers who heard me stifled back anxious glances. Some diverted their eyes.

 “What do you want me to say to that?” She asked, not skipping a beat. “I can tell you whatever you want to hear, or whatever you don’t want to hear.”

 I didn’t reply, for the movers were moving the last of the boxes from the 2nd floor. Amongst them was a box labeled, “Zack’s books”. My parents had been careful to keep all of the boxes very well packaged, but for some reason they had forgotten to tape this particular box and when the movers tried to load it into the truck, the box opened up and all the books spilled out. Something compelled me to rush over and pick up the books.

 “Oh, I am so sorry,” One of the movers said immediately, and was already helping me pick up the books. “You don’t need to help, we can do it.”

 “I would like to pack the box again,” I said firmly. I then looked up and gave the mover a serious glare. He quietly backed away, and let me pack the box again.

 “Mia, are you sure you want to?” Kaylie said, standing over me as I was squatting down picking up Zack’s books.

 “Yes, I do,” I answered, my voice sounded empty. I slowly picked up one of the books, Percy Jackson and the Olympians. Zack’s favorite. When it first came out, I had read the first book in a day, and bought him a copy so we could read the book simultaneously. When the second book came out, we begged our parents to take us to Barnes and Nobles where we would read books for free for hours. We would pick out stacks of books to read, and race to see who could finish them fastest. He would always beat me, even though he was two years younger. By the end of high school, the employees who worked at our local Barnes and Nobles basically knew us by name and favorite literature genre. Mine was mystery and Zack’s was sci-fi. 

I gathered all the books, about 15 of them, and sat on the driveway to start packing the books again. Kaylie grabbed the box for me, and bought it next to me and sat down.

“Do you want me to pack them for you?” She asked delicately. As if I was going to fall to pieces if she asked any more sternly.

“Just because I’m moving, doesn’t mean I’m some delicate flower that you can’t raise your voice to.” I snapped back as I put the first book into the box. “I’m fine, Kaylie. You know I am.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Kaylie said.

“You don’t believe a word I said,” I laughed. 

“Damn right,” Kaylie smiled. I suppose that’s what happens when you’re friends for so long.

We silently packed the books away, respecting the moment of peace that came with such a mundane task. When we got to our last book, Percy Jackson and the Olympians, I decided to speak again. 

“I guess I’m just sick of people thinking I’m not okay,” I said, staring right at the cover of the book. “It’s been three years. I graduated college since that. It’s not like I’m going to lose it today, you know?” 

“Well, it’s because you’re moving. The dust that settled so long ago is being disrupted, and I guess people are just a bit worried. We all just know how close you and Zack were.”

I didn’t answer Kaylie, and instead I leafed through the book, skimming words and sentences and anything that just meant anything to Zack. As if flipping through the pages could do anything, bring anything back. 

Suddenly something did catch my eye. A page was dog-eared, which Zack refused to do. Once, he threw out a book that I accidentally dog-eared. It was a strange pet peeve, but a real one at that. I slowly turned to the page that was dog-eared, and saw in the margins something Zack had written. It was only a few words, a few too illegible, a few just random words that made no sense. But very clearly in the top left margin was, “Mia, I’m sorry. I really am.”

I let the book drop from my hands, and let tears fall as quickly as the book had fallen. It was all too real again, the loss, the death, the everything. His words, his handwriting, his essence just oozed from the pages, and the book felt heavy, as heavy as his heart must have felt when he held all Ambien in his palm, and as heavy as the Moët Chandon he held in the other hand. I used to joke that at least he had class as he passed. No one seemed to like that particular joke. I never wondered why.

Kaylie picked up the book from the ground, and flipped to the dog-eared page. Her expression told me that she understood as well. 

For someone who was too far out on the East Coast from her brother in the West, it was heartbreaking to know he had passed without a word goodbye. It had felt like that person was cheated, robbed of even the courtesy of a goodbye.

How did he know I would find this? Or did he intend for it to never be found? For it to be packed away in a box and never opened again?

“He never forgot to apologize,” Kaylie said solemnly, closing the book and held it out for me. 

“Yeah, he never forgot to apologize.” I took the book from Kaylie, and set it on the top of the stack before I closed the box up for good.

[the-sad-teapot]

too soon

he takes hold of my waist with one hand, a dixie cup in the other, and he leans forward and whispers i love you i love you and it’s too soon, too soon, and i think of you and ache, like my heart is turning to stone and i can’t even think straight anymore but i take the shot he offers me anyway and goddamn, goddamn, my throat feels like it’s been stripped raw and i look up at his face and shit, 6 shots of uv blue and he could almost pass for you, just with fuzzier outlines and when he leans in to kiss me i close my eyes and the world is spinning, spinning too fast, so i open them and his face is even blurrier and he smiles like a fox and asks you wanna get out of here lets get out of here and i let him lead me to wherever home is because i don’t know where that is anymore and he is not you but he is here and he is warm with a beating heart and stubble on his chin and in the morning i won’t remember that i even thought about you and temporary numbness is bliss and darling, i miss you so.

[the-sad-teapot]

/untitled

“Marie, mail’s here. You might want to sift through with me since the bills are probably in the mix this time.” Ian yelled from the kitchen. What time was it?

I groggily got myself upright in bed and checked my phone. 9:53. “Shit, is it Friday today?!” I jotted out of bed, yanked my phone charger out of my phone and walked to the kitchen. “You needed to wake me up, you know that.”

Ian was sitting in at the breakfast table, sipping his usual coffee with copious amounts of milk. He had the TV on and was holding his phone in his other hand. “It’s Saturday.”

I let out of a sigh of relief, and sat down next to him at our circle table. “Well, let’s see the mail then.”

“No coffee?” He held up his cup toward the coffeemaker.

“You’re probably right, coffee then bills,” I got up and walked to the coffeemaker, poured myself a cup, and sat back down. I took a sip of coffee before I started again. “What makes this month’s bills more important than all the other ones? You normally just do them, and I just verify.”

Ian held up his phone to show me a specific date. February 12, 2013. “Remember this date?” I shook my head, wondering why such a random date meant so much to him. He sighed a sigh of contentment. “It was the date we first paid our bills as a married couple.”

“You remembered that date?” I laughed as I reached for the cable bill. “Well, I suppose it is quite exciting, isn’t it.” I dramatically opened the cable bill and said, “Here’s to another year of paying bills together!”

We both laughed, and both of us started writing the bill amounts on our shared checks.

“We really need to get the background on the checks changed soon,” I said absentmindedly as finished up our cable bill. “I’m thinking an ocean background.”

“Yeah, that sounds perfect,” Ian replied as he reached for the next envelope. He then paused for a moment. I looked over at him, curious because he took once glance at the envelope, then placed it on the bottom of the pile.

I turned my gaze back toward the bill in front of me before I asked him, “Some bill you don’t want to pay? Let me guess, was it the water bill? You did take like three baths this month.” I laughed lightheartedly, but Ian only offered a small shallow chuckle.

I chose to forget it for the time being, realizing he would tell me when he was collected and ready to tell me. I went on to the Homeowner’s Association bill, and let him handle the mortgage bill for the month. But something about his reaction to that envelope made me curious. I could either wait for him to tell me, or I could just reach over and look at the bottom envelope myself. I quickly glanced over at Ian, who looked a bit regretful for some reason. I finished up my share of the bills, and quietly sipped my coffee as I waited for Ian to finish up.

“It was my brother,” Ian said suddenly.

I set my mug down, and turned my head to face Ian. “Your brother?”

“The letter,” Ian said, and then let out a quick harsh sigh. “was from my brother.”

“As in the one who couldn’t make it to our wedding?” I thought back to our wedding day as I said that.

Everyone in our immediate families was there, except for Ian’s younger brother. When I asked where his younger brother was, his older sister, Victoria, forced a very practiced smile as she said, “He said he couldn’t make it. He’s been very busy in Amsterdam, and we didn’t want to burden him by demanding he fly all the way here.”

“But it’s his older brother’s wedding,” I wondered out loud. “He didn’t even bother to send us a reply to our invitation. I just figured he didn’t want to be here because he didn’t support our marriage.”

Victoria’s smile never faltered as we continued to talk. “Let’s just say he’s been pretty distant since he moved 5 years ago. It’s best not worrying about that, dear. It’s your wedding day!” She had a point. It wasn’t my place to pester, especially on such a day, so I mentally erased Ian’s younger brother’s absence out of my mind.

For a year now, I had forgotten about their long-lost and intentionally forgotten brother. And suddenly, there was a letter from him.

“You’re not going to read it?” I looked intently at Ian to see his reaction.

“He’s been gone too long to make amends,” Ian deflected my question.

“I think at this point I could hear some of this story now, don’t you think?” I tried my best to make a rational argument. As his wife, I should in theory be someone he has full trust in.

Ian shuffled through the envelopes and got out his brother’s letter again. For a full minute, he was silent and all he did was stare at the envelope. His eyes never left the envelope; as if he was gathering all the thoughts and emotions he had for his brother.

He finally spoke up again, “At what point is making amends not worth it?”

"He's your brother, Ian. Don't forget that." I folded, then unfolded the corner of an envelope with uncertainty.

"My own fucking coworkers came to the wedding. Asshole Jim from Accounting? He came. Douchebag Ed from HR? Dickhead --"

"Ian. Ian. Stop." I looked up, and he was shaking with fury. This was a new side of him.

"They came and they congratulated me. They danced to the horrible music that DJ played. They ate those tiny, doll food appetizers and acted like they liked them."

"I liked them," I say, cracking a smile. Ian ignored this.

"Chris liked you first," Ian blurted out.

"Sorry?"

"He came home one day and, God, it was like he had won the lottery or something. Better than that. Like he'd magically grown a heart."

"Bit harsh, don't you think? He seemed perfectly nice to me," I offered lamely.

"He never talks about these things, but that day he barged into my room and told me he'd met her."

"Her?"

"The One."

"The One...?"

"Yes."

"..."

"You."

"Oh."

Ian pressed his fists against his eyes and let out a raspy sigh. Wordlessly, I reached for the letter and dumbly held it in front of my face. The letters were fuzzy before they finally came into focus.

I'm still in love with her. Always have been.

A strange feeling bubbled up from my chest, sharp and somehow familiar. It's true, what they say about how you can't choose the ones you love. My mind flashed to the envelopes hidden in my desk drawer, under layers of magazines and newsletters. Letters from "The One."

"He'll find someone," I told Ian quietly. "Someone who will take the pain away."

"How can you be so sure?"

I looked up at his face, mentally tracing the outlines of his lips, his nose, his chin. His warm eyes held mine in that comforting, familiar way. He's not who I ever thought would be the one looking at me from across the kitchen table. And yet here we are.

"Everything is going to be okay, Ian."