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neocityarchive · 5 years ago

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dear dream (ldh) | part 1

word count: 2.8k

warnings: language

chapter summary: Horrible as it may sound, but it seemed as if you were starting to forget what it was like to love him.

a/n: so there’s a lot of narration in the beginning but pls be patient :> ajdaskl also please let me know what you think. thank u, love u.

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You were starting to forget. It’s been eight months after Donghyuck left for training and you were starting to forget everything.

You were starting to forget how his voice sounded on the phone at night, tired and hoarse after a long day but still managing to say sweet things subtly hidden under his teases and cheeky remarks. You were starting to forget how his lips felt on yours, on your cheeks, on your temples, at the top of you head… on your neck. You were starting to forget how his slim fingers fit in the spaces between yours and how his thumb rubs against the back of your hand out of habit. Horrible as it may sound, but it seemed as if you were starting to forget what it was like to love him.

It’s ironic, though. It seemed too soon considering how you were like the first few weeks. Even when he left, he was everywhere. The two of you didn’t break up, with the promise of seeing each other again, the promise of him coming back to you. But it still felt like that… maybe worse. He was gone but you could see him in every store you used to drag him to. You could hear him in every song, even the shitty ones with repetitive riffs and lyrics. He loves random dancing to those. Almost every night, he would appear in your dreams, either as flashbacks or as random scenes.

That is until it started to fade. Your mind that was once filled with Donghyuck has slowly been filled with a lot of something elses.

Things changed faster than you expected them to. You were still on the same job at the bookstore with Taeil who has been promoted to manager. But you went to college where you met a senior who also happened to be your upstairs neighbor. His name is Doyoung. You endorsed him to a job at the bookstore and now you’re colleagues. Both he and Taeil are the closest friends you have at the moment.

Your parents were now retired after securing your future. They sold the house, moved to a smaller place in Busan, and started a barbecue business there. You found a nice starter apartment and started drafting your book once again, but getting nowhere.

And in all those changes, the one person who you’ve always imagined would walk every step of the way with you weren't there.

“I’ll be back before you know it,” he said that day. You never understood that statement. It didn’t really make sense no matter how much you thought about it, but it’s the one thing that repetitively plays on your mind. For some reason, it always gave you hope and a weird longing for tomorrow. But as days passed, you realized it really wasn’t enough.

Three months after Hyuck left and the dreams became lesser. You have already opened nine out of twelve of his letters, most of it was because you just wanted to experience his thoughts again. You miss him, but the new environment made it easier to get him off your mind every once in a while.

Six months, the dreams were rare. You missed him more than ever. There was one night when you were alone in your apartment, feeling shitty because you’re not making any progress on a report that was due the next day. You knew if he was there, he’d motivate you to work harder. You knew if he was there, it would all be different. But he wasn’t. So you opened the last letter.

“Read… when you’re mad or upset that I’m not there,” you read out loud. “As if this is going to change anything.”

It didn’t. He still wasn’t there. You drafted a reply, just wanting to let it out of your system. After reading what you wrote, you hated yourself for it. You crumpled the paper and threw it in your drawer, not having the heart to toss it into the garbage itself.

And by the eighth month… the dreams were reduced to none. You almost didn’t notice it, until one night your neighbor was watching the TV too loud. You knew it was his voice that was singing even through the thin walls. You’d recognize it anywhere. You realized you haven’t thought about your boyfriend much lately. It has gotten to the point where you begin to wonder whether it is still right to call him your boyfriend anymore.

You cried that night, feeling guilty. The aching in your chest forced you to open that letter again, the one you’ve read the most: read… when you miss me.

Your eyes scanned the words but you’ve already memorized it by heart.

“I’ll be back before you know it,” you read, muttering to yourself, and before you could stop your tongue, you said, “Bullshit.”

You scribbled on a notepad on your desk: It’s been 8 months since the last time… I’m getting tired. Are we still… us?

Seeing as you thought you’ve forgotten, you were surprised to dream about him again for the first time in a while. It was about the day he told you he was leaving. You still remember the barrage of emotions you felt right then. Those same emotions mirrored themselves in your chest that night, leading to tearstained pillow cases.

“Just… don’t forget about me while you’re there.” You choked down a sob. “Promise me.”

“I promise. I’ll be back before you know it.”

You tossed and turned in your sheets. Bzzt, bzzt, bzzt!

You groaned, your hands desperately looking for your phone somewhere on your bed to turn off the goddamn alarm.

You sighed to yourself, frowning at the sensation of the wet pillow on your cheek. “Fuck my life. It’s too early to be sad.”

You forced your eyes open to check for any notifs on your phone. It was just a bunch of emails from your professors and a few texts from your mom. But at the bottom of the list, received at 2:01 AM today… followed by 9 other tabs.

You blinked and then pinched yourself, trying to see if you were still dreaming. But you weren’t. It’s really there. With a deep breath and a fluttering heart, you tapped on the notification, watching it expand.

hyuckie: y/n!!!

hyuckie: i cant believe im saying this but..

hyuckie: i hope your habits are as bad as i remember :(

hyuckie: please be awake?

hyuckie: i really wanna talk to you, i miss you so much!! ㅠㅠㅠㅠ

hyuckie: but i guess you’re asleep now

hyuckie: which is good!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

hyuckie: so i’ll talk to you in the morning?

hyuckie: goodnight :>>

You sat up, reading and re-reading the texts. It didn’t seem real. Was it...? Is this some kind of joke fate was playing on you? After almost a month of barely thinking about him, Donghyuck once again let his existence known.

You gulped, the guilt almost eating you inside as your fingers found their way to your keypad.

You: hyuck…?

You: is this real???? are you back??

You waited five minutes. There was no reply. The small hope that bubbled in your chest when you saw his texts dissipated almost immediately. Maybe you just didn’t want to be fooled that easily or maybe you were getting tired of holding onto something that hasn’t really been sitting fully within your reach for so long.

Still, throughout the day, you checked your phone more than you usually do. Even while crossing the pedestrian. Even when you were in a lecture. Even while walking in the hallway. Even when you were manning the cashier at work. You checked your phone too much that it annoyed those who were watching.

“Y/N, stop it. You’re being stupid,” Doyoung said after he returned from a round of stacking books. He has a habit of saying things straight to people’s faces. Usually, it’s a good thing, but it’s also very annoying.

You looked up, consciously putting your phone back in your pocket with a sigh.

“He’s still probably busy. I’m sure he just had, like, a night off and decided to text you.” He shrugged. “His agency don’t really give their artists breaks that much, especially since he just debuted.”

Doyoung sometimes works in the same agency as Hyuck. He’s always getting hired by people here and there to sing demos or background vocals. Even when you’ve only really heard him sing under his breath, it’s not hard for you to say he’s talented. Also, he gives you scoop on what’s happening inside Hyuck’s agency. They’ve met a lot. But as a favor, you made Doyoung promise not to tell Hyuck that you know each other.

Maybe it sounds wrong, but you weren’t really spying on your boyfriend. Besides, Doyoung is almost useless when it comes to updating you about Hyuck. All he ever tells you are his schedules, but that’s not what you wanted to know. Whenever you talk about him, it always goes something like

“How’s he doing?”

“He seemed okay.”

“Does he talk about me sometimes?”

“No, but we didn’t really talk much. He and his friends scare me.”

You ran a hand through your hair in frustration. Your mind was a mess. You don’t know what to feel about Hyuck finally reaching out to you, and for some reason, you wanted to explain what made him do it even if the explanation sounded ridiculous.

“He decided to text me at 2 in the morning, after eight months of nothing,” you said, glaring at him. “It doesn’t make sense. Somebody probably just played a prank on him.”

“By texting you?” Doyoung snorted.

You shrugged. “Why not?”

“That’s what won’t make sense,” he muttered.

“Nothing makes sense.” You sighed.

“And yet you check your phone every two minutes just in case he replied.” He shook his head. “Again, you’re being stupid.”

You were just thinking of a retort when a customer came up to the counter and asked if you had anything available on astrology. Doyoung only smiled at her politely but offered no answer.

“Yes, ma’am. You’ll find them on the last aisle.” You smiled at the lady. When she was gone, you turned back to your friend who was busy scanning some magazine he picked up. “I’m not being stupid.”

Doyoung snorted. “First of all, lame comeback. Second, yes, you are. You’re going back and forth between ‘oh I miss my boyfriend’ and ‘I don’t even know if I care anymore.’ And you’ve been going at it for months, Y/N! Make up your mind. You have to realize this whole situation is unfair to you. Third, you worry too much. Has he even seen your text yet?”

You frowned. You hate it when Doyoung is right, which is most of the time. It’s unfair that he’s always the one who makes sense. It’s worse because he tells you things you don’t want to hear but definitely should. You almost wish Taeil was here. Doyoung seems to be more reserved around him, though you’re not really sure why.

“He hasn’t,” you replied weakly. “But just to be sure…” You whipped your phone out again.

Doyoung groaned loudly, throwing his hands in the air in frustration. “And here we have an idiot,” he grumbled. “God, Y/N. Give yourself a break.”

You just rolled your eyes, continuing to navigate your phone until you’ve reached your message thread with Hyuck. Your eyes almost popped out of their sockets.

Read 8:41 PM

“He’s seen it,” you muttered, mostly to yourself. But Doyoung heard it, too. Even he couldn’t hide his surprise.

“He has?” He leaned over to look. “Why isn’t he replying then? It’s been a minute.”

“Baby steps. Doyoungie,” you said kindly.

“Oh, so now you're back to being a hopeless romantic?” He sighed. “God, you’re gonna’ give me whiplash. Whatever. Just tidy up the counter. We have to close soon.”

You nodded.

Doyoung went to walk around the store again leaving you alone by yourself. You left your phone unlocked, the screen still displaying Hyuck’s messages as you moved around and did your routine of fixing the counter and the displays in front of it.

You’ve arranged everything and checked the store’s valuables twice, yet there were still no changes on your phone except your battery has gone down 2%.

“He really left me on read,” you muttered to yourself. “Unbelievable.”

With a sigh, you locked your phone, giving up. Maybe Doyoung was right (again). Hyuck probably just finally had a night to himself and decided to talk to you, but you couldn’t reply. Fuck timing. It always ruins everything.

The lady from earlier came to you once again to purchase an astrology book. She smiled and said thanks after you handed the book back in a paper bag. You returned her smile, but inside you were questioning why people even believe in stars. You shrugged. Who am I to talk though? Why do I even believe in a relationship that doesn’t feel like one anymore? you thought to yourself.

As if the universe was determined to prove you wrong, your phone started ringing, vibrating against the wooden surface of the counter. When your eyes landed on the caller ID, you felt your heart drop to your stomach.

“hyuckie”

It took you a moment to react. Before you started dating, Donghyuck changed the setting of his ringtone on your phone to Stay With Me by Chanyeol & Punch. He did it as a joke to tease you, but after getting used to it, you didn’t bother to change it. You regret that decision now. The song played as if you were in some sort of romantic drama, awaiting for the male lead. It seems ridiculous to imagine, but it was enough to build the tension.

You answered the call before the vocals came in.

“...hello?” you said, your voice smaller than usual.

“Y/N?” Hyuck’s voice came through the speakers. You felt your heart clench just by the sound of it. “Hi.”

“Hyuck?” you asked, feeling stupid right after. There was no doubt it was him. But it felt surreal that he’s calling you right now that you just had to make sure.

“Who else, silly?” He laughed. “How’s my baby?”

Your face scrunched as you suppressed a scream. Why am I being like this? It’s just Hyuck, you thought to yourself, trying to calm down. But it’s Hyuck!!! You wanted to cry but you were still in public. A customer might come in at the last minute and see you bawling your eyes out. Even the thought of it makes you want to punch yourself.

“Wait, is it really you?!” You could barely hide the emotions in your voice. It was too much, a heavy mixture of excitement and nostalgia and happiness and for a reason… also sadness.

“Yes, idiot. Where are you?” He sounded a bit breathless. His voice mixed with the faint sound of traffic in the background. He was out, alright, but is he on a break? How long is this phone call going to last?

You looked around, suddenly confused, mind hazy. “I’m… where am I… um, I’m at work. Why? Where are you?”

“You’re still at work? But it’s 9,” he said.

“Yeah, we’re closing soon. Where are you? Are you on a break? Why are you calling now?” You wanted to ask so many questions but they’re all getting jammed in your mind at the moment. It doesn’t even matter since Hyuck isn’t answering any of them.

“Close it now,” he said.

“What?”

“Close the store now.”

“Why? My friend is still arranging the shelves.” You looked around for Doyoung.

“Tell your friend you have to go home,” he said before letting out a breath.

“What? But the keys are with me. Taeil would be mad if it gets lost,” you reasoned. “What are you even—”

“Just tell your friend something important came up.”

“There’s literally nothing going on in my life right now. What important thing would ‘come up?’” You snorted. “Just—”

You heard the bell hanging above the door ring, making you jump on your feet. “Shit. I have to go. We have a customer. I’ll call you, please pick up later. Imissyou,Iloveyou,byebye,” you said as fast as you could, crouching down lower with every word, hoping to hide from the eyes of whoever just came in.

You ended the call, putting the phone back in your pocket, before standing up straight, ready to greet the guest.

“Hi, how may I help…”

“Hi.” The guy smiled, chest heaving slightly, trying to catch his breath.

He was wearing a black jacket over a plain white shirt that was tucked in his jeans. The look was so simple, yet he still looked amazing. Better than your remember. Better than he appears on TV. Something about him was different, you could feel it. He looked different. He was taller and his cheeks were somehow smaller than you remembered. His hair was a different shade of brown than when you last saw. He was still slightly slouched but something about his stance is more powerful. He held himself with more pride now. And rightfully so. But underneath all of those, you could still feel it. That familiarity. That sense of security that no matter how many things have changed, he still is the same Lee Donghyuck. And somehow, despite your doubts and overthinking, you just knew he still is your Lee Donghyuck.

“Hyuck,” you said, voice faltering. You didn’t think it was this easy to have tears pooling in your eyes, but it was. Fuck, you thought. “Hi.”

He let out a chuckle upon seeing your reaction. “To answer your question, I’m your important thing that came up.”

#UM YEAH #it’s just the beginning ksjdjdj ofc #hi again #nct au series #nct au #nct haechan au #nct donghyuck imagines #nct imagines #nct scenarios #nct soft hours #nct sad hours #dear dream au series #dear dream #nct dream au #nct 127 au #nct timestamps #haechan imagines #haechan x reader #haechan au

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coffeeandcalligraphy · 6 years ago

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Paper Mouth, Opera Game, Beautiful Place | Writing Update

Hey People of Earth!

This is December 5th Rachel here to tell you this has been sitting in my drafts since the prehistoric era and we boutta update on three chapters of Moth Work *cracks knuckles*.

First, let’s start with chapter seven of the book, AKA Paper Mouth.

I wrote Paper Mouth back in August, and while I drafted it (over a few writing sprints), I was happy with it, but eventually realized I actually... didn’t like her, lol. Though objectively this chapter ain’t my fave, it does establish a very! important! thing! And that’s my shiny new gal, Eliza.

So, if anyone remembers from previous updates, I conceptualized most of MOTH WORK back in January when I was *stressed* at the end of a semester and needed a *break*. During this period of brainstorming where the whole photograph plot formed, I characterized a woman (the woman in the picture) who I knew would be central to the book. I knew I wanted to name her Eliza, I knew what she looked like, and had a loose backstory outlined for her, buuuuut… I started drifting from the photograph plot (it was only meant to be a booster) and without the photograph plot, I didn't have a reason to include her. So I thought I’d actually cut her involvement in the book way down from about 30-50% to 2%.

This changed however, when I added Lonan’s POV to the book (what I’m writing at the moment). Because I was in his head, I quickly realized how important finding this woman (someone who had a previous affair with his father [TEA]) would be to him.

This is how we end up at Paper Mouth!

The chapter is almost a direct continuation of the last, and starts out as follows:

Scene A:

Lonan makes a phone call to Eliza from a phone booth. They’ve never met, she like new phone who dis, but after an off-screen explanation, we jump into scene two.

Scene B:

This scene covers the two meeting for the first time outside of a diner. Lonan got dat brooding hoodie energy, and Eliza has tattoo-artist but also your mom friend energy, and we love the dynamic already! From here, she offers to buy Lonan a milkshake as an incentive to speak with him. Me too sis, me too.

Scene C:

They chat, until Lonan moves the conversation to his father. Things go downhill lol, Lonan gets overwhelmed and heads outside to leave, despite having no way home, but is followed by Eliza. They have a convo that gets heated about his father, tho this sort of veers off abruptly my bad.

I honestly don’t love anything enough to share from this chapter, so let’s move on to the next!

EDIT: y’all this is the second edit I’ve made in this post because guess who forgot chapter 8 existed.

Opera Game took me so long to write, I forgot it existed! I either started it at the end of August, or the beginning of September--it took so long I’m pretty sure I only finished it in November, lol.

Scene A:

We get more Lonan + Eliza time as Eliza pulls a Fostered book three and stitches up Lonan’s busted face

This goes wrong very quickly when Lonan keeps bringing up the fact that he thinks she’s spooked because he has his dead father’s (AKA her ex’s) eyes.

Scene B:

We have din din with Eliza + Lonan and she gifts him back his mother’s ring (at last, the OG plot) that she may or may not have had wrapped for months to give back to his dad (yikers). << this causes some minor problems lol

Scene C:

Lonan and Eliza share a cigarette on her apartment’s balcony. They’re supposed to be just friends but let’s just say apparently I cannot write those (see Darren and Reeve lmfaooo).

The end of this chapter was so fun to write. Take with that what you will! I put Nothing But Thieves’ cover of Love You Should’ve Come Over on repeat to write scene C. Take with that! What! You! Will! ;)

And now for excerpts! Sharing this because of the word guileless:

Eliza looks like a girl. She’s a girl with too many tattoos bartered for free in college, convenience store lipstick she bought from the clearance section, a haircut she found in her mother’s mail-order catalogue, rings hand-bent from an age 12+ kit. She cries like a girl, and sits like a girl and wipes her face like a girl, and he sees the same thing in her that he sees in himself—something guileless, something see-through.

I don’t usually share dialogue, but here is some dialogue from scene B:

“Should I have gotten something different?”

“This is fine.”

“They had chili chicken too. General Tso’s. I should’ve followed my gut.”

“This is fine.”

“There’s even an Italian place just a block over. I forgot about the Italian place.”

“This is fine, Eliza.”

And now, a very on brand excerpt ft. dead bodies:

He can’t remember why his mother died, or when, or why she’s more of a mother than his own mother. He only wants to visit her. Slip the ring back on her finger. She would smell like peaches, hibiscus, almost chlorinated, embalmed, absently pretty, not because she wasn’t beautiful, but because her body would be empty.

EDIT (again): hi y’all it’s been a month since I drafted this, and so here we go with yet another chapter update because I refuse to do schoolwork!

Beautiful Place is chapter nine of Moth Work, and is chock full of all the tea you’ve ever wanted! Watch Rachel take a pure friendship and make it *not* because that’s her #1 talent! Pure friendship? lol you THOUGHT.

I wrote this chapter over the course of my reading break. @sarahkelsiwrites and I went out to a coffee shop and did a few writing sprints, where a majority of this chapter was birthed.

After Opera Game, I was a bit stuck with this book. I needed a chapter that shoved Eliza and Lonan closer together, but couldn’t figure out exactly how to go about this. I’d semi established a semi friendship between Lonan and Eliza, but wasn’t fully understanding how they’d go from “lol ur my dad’s ex” to “buds? hi!” to “lol ur my ex” and I toyed around with a lot of ideas in my head before I accidentally stumbled into the scene that defines the entire chapter.

Scene A:

All you need to know is Lonan is chillin’ on Eliza’s couch, she’s making some good ol’ french toast, and then tells him she wants to take him to a “good place” and he’s like ok)

Scene B:

Eliza’s place is a cove she found a while back with someone I cannot name because of spoilers (just know that this definitely changes Lonan’s opinion of being there)

When he asks her about the person who she found the place with, she gets *shady*, he gets *extra*, there is *tea*

Here is an excerpt ft. my most overused verb: starbursting (why)!

“You like the beach?” Eliza turns off the car engine, checks her lipstick in the rear-view.

“Just the water.”

“But not the beach?”

“I like the water.”

They get out of the car together, and Eliza’s sundress catches in the rain. The cotton is patterned with palm leaves, birds the size of his pinkie, and it whirls around her in the wind. He doesn’t ask why the good place is the beachfront, or what’s so good about it. He doesn’t shake her hand off when she takes it and leads him toward the sand. Eliza moves around amber driftwood and rubbery kelp like this isn’t an obstacle course but a regular commute. Her hair blows out of her face, starbursting like a halo. She says something about coming here when the Vegas lights blocked the stars. That it’s magical at night, it’s intoxicating, it’s spellbinding, and all of these words remind him more of his sister than sand, than waves.

Here’s a description of the beautiful place ooooh:

The first thing he notices is the light. It’s only the sun reflecting off the stone, but he sees constellations, jittering like they’re both submerged in water. Bits of gold catch in Eliza’s hair and the peaks of the waves, and it’s the cove he notices next. They stand in the centre of it, the stone arched over a spread of water, lapping inches from their feet. It’s like being enclosed in a snowglobe, a private hemisphere of light, water, stone, sand. A resurrection.

And here lies tea:

Eliza is spreading out a picnic blanket while Lonan kneels toward the water. He punctures the current, and lets it stream between his fingers. Even in his hands, the water is gold.

“A friend and I found it,” she says, as water drips into his palm, down his wrist. “I said it was magical.”

“Was it my father?” he picks up a clump of sand, lets it disintegrate back down.

When Eliza says nothing, he turns back to look at her. She’s rummaging through the picnic basket, humming something under her breath, fixing the corner of the blanket.

“Eliza?”

She looks at him, and then back down, glasses clinking. She pulls out two jars—one orange, one pink. “Which do you prefer—marmalade or strawberry?” She digs through the basket, pulls out another jar, olive coloured, speckled with reds, yellows. “Or tapenade?”

“Eliza,” he says, wringing out his hand as he rises. “Was it my father?”

“I brought red wine, too. Do you drink?”

Lonan approaches, and crouches at the edge of the picnic basket. He plays with the hem, smooths his fingers over the metallic underbelly, the fleecy plaid pattern on the good side.

When she pulls out the wine bottle, he reaches over and places his hand on the neck. Their fingers brush when he secures his palm around it. When she doesn’t look at him, he moves his hand over until it covers hers.

“The friend you found this place with,” he says. “Was that my father?”

Eliza tightens her grip around the wine bottle and pulls it back, placing it into the picnic basket. Her sigh trembles, vibrato like a flute, an opera singer. She smooths her hair back, once, twice. “It’s shiraz. My mother sent it from Italy.”

And at last, I call this: Kind of A Wild Thing to Do But Pop Off I Guess:

On her pulse sits a tattoo of a single crow’s eye, and Lonan traces it with the tip of his fingernail. He touches down, to the dagger following the vein on her forearm, and when he reaches the golden cherub an inch from her elbow, leans down and kisses its head.

Aaaand, what a fun way to end this update!

I’m not sure if I’ll get another update up before the new year, but let’s cross our fingers! If not, here’s to 2020! Let’s finish these books y’all.

--Rachel

#writing #amwriting #writeblr #writerblr #mothwork #writingupdates #fostered

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killervibe · 6 years ago

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Lux et Veritas

Chapter 1: Cisco and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

Read Prologue here

Everything was always immaculate here, Cisco thought. How the walls and floors were shining white and polished. The state of the art equipment expensive in a way that had him skittish to touch the first few weeks, afraid of being scolded for using them.

He never was.

The people around him were too busy to take his notice, in their white coats and pencil skirts with heels bustling around him, all doing their jobs, just like Cisco was doing his. And how nice, he thought, getting to do this for real, some day.

Cisco was busy scribbling his signature on the papers, finalizing his last report after the data entry he finished. The lab was near empty, and he glanced around it, committing all the details to memory. He had taken to this lab from the very moment he had been assigned to the department, it had served well this summer as a quiet safe space, a home away from home.

Immersed in his paperwork, Cisco missed the mechanic swish of the automated glass door sliding open, not realizing he had company until he felt a hand on his shoulder. He smiled up at his supervisor, The Dr. Wells. It’s been three months and he still couldn’t believe it.

“Well, it’s three-thirty. You’re done. How does it feel?”

Cisco let go of his pen and sighed wistfully. “Honestly, Sir. Kinda down. I really like it here.”

“I’m glad. You were excellent to work with. I’ve already drafted a glowing recommendation for wherever you choose to pursue your higher education.”

A flush came to his face, and Cisco glanced aside, shy from the praise.

“Thank you, Dr. Wells.”

“No, thank you. Where are you wanting to go to school?”

Cisco opened his mouth to reply when Tess Morgan sidled up to Dr. Wells’s side.

He wrapped an arm around his wife’s waist and she clucked her tongue. “Don’t stress him, Harrison. He still has plenty of time to decide.”

“Well, my girlfriend and I were always planning for an Ivy,” Cisco said. “But I’d also take MIT or Caltech.”

“Engineering, I hope.”

“Yessir.”

Cisco stood up, unclipping his ID. School started tomorrow. Somehow swapping his Star Labs keycard for his old library pass was kind of depressing.

He looked down at it, his laminated card, the serial number they gave him. The picture he had taken on his first day, how he was pretty sure he blinked and yet it still turned out better than any framed Picture Day photograph hanging on the walls at home.

He felt important here. Like he belonged, like someone finally (finally) looked at him and went Yes, you. We like you. You’re good.

Cisco knew he was good, in the back of his mind, front of his mind, whatever. His GPA said so. His report cards said so. Barry said so (Hartley didn't, but who cared about him). Caitlin used to say so. He felt he was good.

Cisco hoped he was good, but was he really? Enough?

Probably not. And still, this taste of a dream, of his future that he so desperately wants to live now already is enough to motivate him to work harder to get it again. Permanently, next time. With his own lab and a desk with his name on it. A degree, a couple of them, with his name in latin script hanging nearby next to a window.

Hold your horses, he told himself. He needed to graduate high school first.

Cisco gave up his ID, handing it to Dr. Wells.

Dr. Wells looked down at the badge, but didn’t say anything for a while.

Tess grinned, “Oh stop with the suspense, look how sad the boy is, just tell him already.”

“What?” Cisco asked, looking back and forth between the scientist and his wife, unfollowing.

“The thing is, Mr. Ramon,” Dr. Wells began, returning the ID, “I’m not sure I want this back. Because the truth is, I’ve grown quite fond of you. And Tess and I were wondering if you’d like to continue shadowing at Star Labs during the Fall. Say, twice a week after school?”

Cisco’s jaw nearly dropped to the floor. “You want me to stay?!”

“We’d love to have you, Cisco,” Tess finished, beaming. “What do you say?”

“—I’d have to ask my parents,” he said immediately, and he winced at how juvenile that sounded but was relieved to see the two nod in agreement, “But that would be the best thing I’ve heard all summer.”

“Come back sometime next week, schedule an appointment and we can discuss contracts with a legal consultant, and a guardian of course.”

“Thank you so much!”

Dr. Wells shook his head, shooing him out. “Go. Enjoy your last day of summer vacation.”

~.~

Cisco was on cloud nine when he parked Dante’s car in the guest garage of Caitlin’s estate, bouncing on his heels in the elevator.

He fired off a quick text to tell her he made it in, then bounded for her library where he knew she would be memorizing the course outlines for tomorrow’s schedule. He creeped up behind her where she was reading silently at her desk, still a little off guard at all the tin-foil silver in her hair.

He covered her eyes, kissing her cheek and she dropped her pen. “Guess who?” he murmured.

Cisco removed his hands and she turned her head over her shoulder. “Hi.” Her eyes shined bright and soft, blinking at him with easy cheer. He couldn’t keep it in any longer, the news near busting inside him as he rubbed up and down her bare arms excitedly.

“Guess who’s boyfriend just got offered a Fall placement at Star Labs?”

Caitlin gaped, turning around. “Mine?”

“Yours! And Dr. Wells said he already wrote me a letter of recommendation for college!”

Caitlin squeezed his hand. “That’s amazing, oh my gosh! You deserve it!”

He shared her smile, pulling her up from the chair, and turning on the lights. Why she kept herself hidden in the dark alcove with only a window was beyond him when her house was equipped with the best green energy efficient systems on the market.

Her words spread a warmth in his chest and he wanted to believe them, but still, doubt creeped into his mind. His fingers skimmed over her dark wooden desk, focusing on rearranging her gel pens.

“Do you think so, really? All I was doing was writing notes and doing small lab assignments.”

Caitlin folded her arms, raising an eyebrow. “Stop selling yourself so short. You’re the smartest person I know.”

He looked up at her. "You're not just saying that because I'm your boyfriend so you kinda have to, but really, secretly, like deep down next your dark chocolate obsession you think Lily Stein the smartest?"

Caitlin laughed, swatting his arm like that would smack the silliness out of his head. "I am not obsessed with dark chocolate!"

"Sure you're not," he countered, eyes crinkling when she pressed a kiss to his cheek to distract him from checking her waste paper basket to prove his point.

"Lily's intelligent. Hartley's sharp. But you're my favourite smartypants," she said.

Cisco smirked a little, “You think Hartley got the same offer? Bet he didn’t.”

Caitlin rolled her eyes at Cisco’s ongoing battle with his nemesis, choosing not to comment. “We should celebrate.”

“We should,” he enthused, offering her his arm. She took it, looking at him expectantly. “How about dinner?”

~.~

After food, Cisco took Caitlin to the little dessert shop that overlooked the river. They shared cheesecake and Sprite, clinking each other’s forks.

Caitlin kept looking over at the water, quiet.

She’d been like that, lately, off and on. Like she'd fall into moods where she was afraid to talk.

“Is everything okay?”

She took a moment to respond, scraping cheesecake off the plate. “Fine.”

He gave her a look. Maybe there were things that changed between them. But Cisco will never lose the skill of knowing when she lied. And Caitlin knew that too.

“I’m just—Worried. About school.”

“You love school.”

“I love learning,” she corrected, wrinkling her nose. “I don’t love CC High. Not anymore.”

“That’s fair.”

“I’ve been dreaming about this year since middle school. Starting it with you and applying to college. I’ve wanted to be a doctor for so long. What if I don’t get into a good school?”

Cisco held his tongue. There was zero chance that Caitlin would be rejected from any university, and, to be frank, there was nothing her mother’s money couldn’t buy. She was a shoo in, has been since Freshman year to all the good schools. And even if she weren't a phenomenal student, legacy alone would admit Caitlin into every college her mother’s research was affiliated with.

He thought about Tess Morgan, and echoed her sentiment. “Isn’t it a little early?”

Caitlin looked out at the water again.

He wondered if her mother was pressuring her. He wouldn't be surprised, school was ramping up soon and with that came a tremendous amount of stress after years of all talk. Maybe Dr. T had finally laid down the law, and it was daunting. Cisco assumed it would be, considering the pressure he put on himself, and he didn't even have anyone counting on him to make it. At least, not until he met the Wells family, and their encouragement had never been coercive. Maybe coercive wasn't the right word. Caitlin's mom was...Intense.

“...Is this about Star Labs? Because I can put in a good word about you with Dr. Wells or help you find—“

He watched Caitlin’s face fall, rushing to deny it. “No, no no. It’s not that. I promise. I don’t mind. You don’t have to do that. I just—I left such a mess.”

Cisco reflected on the past year. She was not wrong. But it was not all her fault.

She gave him a sad smile, “I just wish things didn’t have to change.”

Cisco frowned, sensing she was talking about something a little beyond high school. “They don’t. You’re my forever, Caitlin. Nothing has to change, I’m right here.”

She blinked back tears, shrugging. “I just miss...” she went to her locket. The one she’s never taken off since the funeral. The one with his picture in it, hiding under her dad’s.

His face softened as it clicked. He should've known.

He took her hand, kissing it softly.

“I know.”

~.~

Cisco had a Pop-Tart hanging out of his mouth as he dumped all of his things into his old school bag. He ran a brush through his hair a few times, threw on a light jean jacket, and slung the bag over his shoulder. He bit off another gooey piece before banging on the bathroom door.

“Dante, dios!” he shouted over the loud rush of water. He’s been in there for half an hour already.

“The bathroom! I have to go!”

His mom’s voice called from downstairs. “Deja entrar a tu hermano!”

He rattled on the doorknob, but it was locked. He swore under his breath again, checking his watch. “Dude!”

“Bro, calm down, what the fuck,” Dante groused, unlocking the door with a towel around his waist. The steam went billowing out and Cisco almost choked on the intensity of the deodorant spray.

He pushed past Dante, muttering, going for his toothbrush. He paused before sticking it in his mouth with the toothpaste. “Aren’t you late? Don’t you have an 8:30 class?”

His brother rolled his eyes. “Chill. I’m skipping.”

Cisco’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head, spitting into the sink.

“You’re skipping?”

Dante rolled his eyes. “Oh my god, you’re such a nerd. It’s not like high school, dumbass. Everyone skips class in college.”

“Is it recorded?”

“No.”

“Do you have friends in your class to take notes from?”

“No.”

“Are you going to work on another class instead?”

“No. I’m going to watch Netflix then probably take another nap before practice with the band.”

Cisco ran his hand through his nicely done hair. “Dante, I don’t understand you.”

Dante walked across the hall to their shared room, pulling on clothes.

“Don’t worry about it. Have a nice day at school. Kiss all the teacher’s asses for me.”

Cisco pulled himself together, breathing in deeply, reminding himself that he loved his brother and wasn’t allowed to smack him while he glared.

“Can I use your car?” he gritted between his teeth as Dante shuffled his hair some, ruining it altogether.

Dante waved him off. “I don’t use that crap anymore. It might as well be yours.”

He was already texting Caitlin that he was coming to pick her up, his eyes glued to his phone as he walked out the front door when his mother pulled him back by the strap of his backpack.

She kissed both his cheeks, pushing a sandwich into his hands. “Don’t break that attendance record. Give Caitlin a kiss for me.”

“Si,” he replied, waving goodbye at his little sister shrieking his name before he jogged down the apartment steps, not bothering to wait for the elevator.

Why’d his place always have to be so hectic?

~.~

Caitlin kissed him after she slammed the car door close, buckling in her seatbelt, grumbling under her breath.

"Mom troubles?"

"Just drive."

Cisco looked in the rearview mirror as he put the Toyota in reverse.

It was windy in a nice crisp September morning way, and Caitlin rolled down the window.

“You look cute,” he said as he drove off her estate.

Caitlin shrugged, “I wear a blazer every first day. It’s tradition.”

“I’ve noticed.”

It fell quiet. Caitlin wasn’t much of a morning person, and it was the first day of the scariest school year they’d face yet. There was too much going on in their minds for riveting conversations.

Cisco took a swig of water at a red light ten minutes later, stuck in the morning rush hour. He swished it in his mouth then swallowed.

“So I was thinking—”

“I was wondering—”

They both stopped.

“You go first,” Caitlin said.

“I was thinking that maybe you should talk to Barry before the bell. Just to get a fresh start. I can come with you.”

Caitlin curled her fingers around her designer bag, some big brand fashion company with lots of consonants like X and Z’s that Cisco could never remember.

“I don’t want to."

Cisco frowned. “But why? Barry isn’t mad at you, Caitlin. He just wants you to come back. He’s our best friend.”

She put her hand on his arm.

“You’re my best friend. You’re the only one I need.”

“So what, I’m stuck in the middle now? Homeroom to lunch with Barry, fourth period to final bell with you? How is that fair?”

“Actually,” she said. “I was thinking maybe we don’t make that big of a deal of it? Like, do people even need to know that we’re together again? Look what happened last time.”

Cisco narrowed his eyes. He didn’t like where this was going. “Caitlin. Everybody loves you. Nobody really loves me. This has already been established after what happened in April. Why does it matter anymore?”

She hesitated, tapping her fingers against the arm rest, leaning her head against the window. “I don’t want you to be a target again.”

“I don’t care,” Cisco said. “It’s just high school crap. I’m hoping we all got it out of our systems junior year. I haven’t kissed you in the hallway for how many months?”

Caitlin smiled down at her lap. “Six.”

Cisco made a disgruntled noise. “Six and a half, actually, but who’s counting?”

“Not me,” she lied.

They shared a glance.

“That’s too long. I’m not letting shitty people with nothing better to do stop me and neither should you.”

“Okay.”

She leaned over and kissed him quickly, then told him the light was green.

~.~

They had four classes together, but not homeroom, so Caitlin and Cisco split ways early on in the morning.

The bell rang, and Professor Stein cleared his throat.

“Welcome students to a bright academic year ahead!”

The class groaned, and Cisco shared an amused glance with Iris.

She leaned in, “Why does he say that every year?”

Cisco grimaced. “Fourth time’s the charm?”

Professor Stein told everyone to settle down as he took attendance, handed out the dozens of photocopied papers that needed their parents’ signatures and read the announcements. Soon enough, the bell rang, and they all got up to get to their first classes of the day.

Iris strapped her messenger bag over her shoulder. She wasn’t in the science stream, so this would be their only time together until humanities and AP English, which they didn’t have today.

“See you at lunch?”

“Yeah,” he said, then thought of something. “Can you keep an eye out for Caitlin? I’m just—Not sure what she’s thinking she’s going to do.”

“You mean with Lexi.”

He quirked an eyebrow. Students were starting to come in, so Cisco hurried out, grabbing Iris by the hand as the hallways started to flood. “You don’t like her either.”

Iris laughed callously, and they walked to their lockers. “Hell no.”

“Oh thank god,” he breathed, trying to keep up with her quick pace. “I just don’t understand why she won't try to fix things. You haven’t said anything to her, have you? You two aren't fighting?”

Cisco watched Iris hang her coat up. “No,” she said. “Fighting? We're not even talking. Don’t get me wrong. I was pissed last year. What she did was awful.”

He felt the need to defend her, when he knew he probably shouldn’t. Iris must’ve saw the look on his face and rolled her eyes.

“No need to get all Caitlin Snow protection squad on me. I don’t hold grudges like that. I came to the funeral, didn’t I?”

Patty and Linda showed up, tugging Iris away. “Hey, gotta jet, but I’ll try, okay? I’ll do some digging for you. Shawna’s pretty easy to squeeze.”

Cisco wanted to thank her, but she was too far gone, giggling with her friends.

He sighed, standing in the middle of the hall. Without even a second longer to breathe, Jake Puckett barged into him. “Watch it, mosquito.”

“We’re back to that, Jake? Really?” Cisco yelled after him, still getting jostled as the crowd of students thickened in the tight corridor.

Puckett continued his taunting. “You look like a girl. Why don’t you get a haircut?”

“Maybe my girl likes it long dipshit,” he shot back. “Not like you’d know what that’s like.”

That sent Cisco flying into the lockers.

“I deserved that one,” he muttered to himself, trying not to wince at the way the metal hinges dug into his back. He dropped his folder when he hit the wall, his green permission slips about emergency contact information and school behavioural contracts now getting stepped on by careless idiots he called classmates.

He darted between people in the crowd to get them back, annoyed that nobody cared to help him. Then, annoyed that he expected this shit to change now that he was a Senior in the first place.

Just one more year. One more year, Cisco uttered under his breath like a mantra, falling into his ethics class’ front row seat just on time.

Their teacher started sprouting some stupid idea about going around and introducing themselves, as if everybody hasn’t already known each other since elementary.

“Hi? Um, my name is Brie Larvan. And I want to be a beekeeper.”

Cisco rubbed his temples, his mantra intensified.

~.~

By lunch, Cisco was waiting by Caitlin’s locker.

He saw her walk out of history with Lexi and Shawna. She paused at seeing him, her eyes going a little wide.

“Cisco, what are you doing?” she said, looking nervously at Lexi and Shawna, who had their arms crossed with identical bitch faces.

“Lunch?”

“Like, disappear mosquito. She doesn’t want lunch with you.”

Caitlin frowned, opening her locker. She put a new textbook into a top shelf and grabbed her lunch box. “We don't call my boyfriend that. Yes, I do want lunch with him.”

She took Cisco’s hand, and he rose an eyebrow at Shawna, a smidge too smug.

“Sorry ladies, later.”

"Your boyfriend?" Shawna repeated, jaw dropping open.

Lexi gasped. “Caity!”

He felt her tension just by the way she held his hand. “I’ll see you in class, I’m still sitting next to you in art, just like we promised, right?”

Lexi’s smile looked a little off kilter. “Of course. Right. See you there, then. Have fun with...Cisco.”

Cisco, who had been trying to look anywhere but Lexi, eventually met her gaze.

She gave him a look, sucking lipstick off her teeth. It sent a chill down his spine, and he had forgotten (really, no, he hasn't, he really hasn't) how much he hated her.

She arched an eyebrow high in the air, like she was challenging him to acknowledge her. But Cisco didn't play her games.

He pulled Caitlin away, lacing their fingers together.

~.~

Cisco let Caitlin drag him far from Barry’s table without putting up a fight. In fact, they weren’t even eating in the cafeteria. They sat in the courtyard, watching the soccer team tryouts as Caitlin opened her packed box from her chef.

It was a nice day. Caitlin really did look gorgeous in her burgundy blazer and pleated skirt. It suited her, that classy uniform chic, and for the first time a thought occurred to him that struck odd. Caitlin belonged in a private school. One with 4.0 cut-offs, loads of legacy families, and a hundred thousand dollars for tuition. Dr. T letting her daughter stay in Central City to go to public school was a bit weird. She didn’t really belong here.

Cisco picked at dandelions as they talked, wondering why the grass was so unkept.

About twenty minutes in, Caitlin gave him a sly look.

Cisco looked up from his lunch, knowing that expression all too well. “If you’re going to kiss me, please let me finish my chicken first or else I never will, and I’m really hungry.”

She ignored him completely, prying the plastic container out of his hands. “Hey missy, I said I wasn’t— Mmmph!”

He missed this. He missed her. This Caitlin. His Caitlin.

It was like all the darkness swarming underneath her surface dissipated, and her true light was shining through.

He laughed as she climbed into his lap to kiss him more. They could get demerit points for this, and that heightened the sense of thrill. If they got caught it would be so worth it.

A shrill whistle pierced through the air and the two sprang apart. There was a foul on the soccer field.

“Still hungry?” she smirked with mirth, wiping the rest of her smudged lip gloss off.

He played with her silvery hair. “Um, yes,” he flirted, catching Caitlin’s heated gaze. “Famished.”

“Good thing I’m here then,” she murmured.

“Yes,” he agreed, inching closer. “Very good,” and slipped his tongue in her mouth.

They made out until the bell.

~.~

Outside was beautiful and peaceful. Cisco started to understand why Caitlin brought him out there.

“Oh my god, Caitlin! Over here!” Lisa shouted at the door, gesturing wildly at her to come back into the side entrance of school. “Hi Cisco!”

“Hey Lisa.”

Lisa Snart. She was something else, that one. Cute, in a dumb like a rock kind of way.

Maybe that was mean.

Lexi appeared over Lisa’s shoulder. "Come on, Caitlin! We’re going to be late!”

He got up with a sigh, and gave his girlfriend a hand. She took it, hers slender and soft in his, and didn’t let go.

They began walking towards Caitlin’s new posse.

“Why are they so possessive? It’s unnerving,” he couldn’t help but blurt out.

“It’s not me. It’s you. They think—”

“I know what they think,” he snapped, cross. As did everybody, no doubt. Cisco kicked at a littered soda can. “Tell them I didn’t.”

“I tried! They won’t believe me!”

“Then ditch them. It’s not that hard.”

She turned to him sympathetically, kissing him one last time.

“I can’t, Cisco. They’re my friends. I like them.” She untangled their fingers.

“No, you don’t.”

“I do,” she insisted. “Stop saying things as if you’re me. I’m me. If they’re my friends then I’m not lying and you have to understand that.”

Cisco felt properly chastened. He took a step back, quiet. “Okay.”

“Thank you. I’ll see you later.”

Lisa and Lexi took to each of Caitlin’s sides, linking their arms together. Only Lisa looked back.

~.~

“Where were you? You dipped lunch. Iris said you’d be there.”

It was the second to last period of the day, and it just had to be gym, didn’t it?

Cisco ducked at the incoming fire of dodgeballs. “Yeah, sorry. Caitlin wanted to eat outside.”

A ball rolled to a stop beside him. He picked it up and chucked it, barely getting it past the midline.

The one class he and Barry weren’t good at. So what.

“You mean she didn’t want to eat with me.”

Cisco stopped, looking around. His team was going to lose no matter what.

“I think she’s just really embarrassed. Give her some time.”

“Time?” Barry exclaimed, nearly getting hit in the face. “It’s been almost half a year! I miss her so bad. She’s in my geography class and she sat next to Bad Luck Becky instead of me.”

“Dude, watch out!”

“Huh?” Barry spun around in the wrong direction, and Cisco cringed as Barry got hit in the back by Woodworth, officially out.

Cisco followed him to the bench, not caring to even pretend he was playing anymore.

“What’s her deal?”

Cisco wrung his hands. “I don’t know. Her dad, I think. It shook her hard, and we weren’t there for her.”

Barry’s fingers were calming on his shoulder, unlike Dante’s, and different from Armando’s.

“Don’t beat yourself up about that. She pushed us away.”

It was easy for Barry to say that. Barry the best friend, their happy third wheel. It wasn’t the same for Cisco. Cisco, who had offered to pick Caitlin up when she fell down the slide in the first grade, who she had won the regional science fair with in grade 3, who she first told when they were ten that her dad was sick, really sick, and I really need a hug.

Barry was always there and supportive and the best friend, but he had Iris. Before him came Cisco and Caitlin. They were a duo, a package deal, each other’s forever.

Even if she pushed him away, even if she hurt him. She never meant to, just as hurt and twice as lonely.

“She needed me and I wasn’t there until it was too late. Now she doesn’t know who to trust.”

Barry reached for his water bottle, taking a long sip.

“So she trusts LaRoche? She knows what she did to you, doesn’t she?”

It was humiliating just thinking about it.

Cisco shook his head. “She only knows that I tutored her for the SATs.”

Three thumps on the back was what it took for Barry to stop coughing, spluttering water everywhere.

“You need to tell Caitlin. ”

“No. Drop it. And don’t tell Iris either.”

“But—”

Coach Adam’s bullhorn blew sharply, interrupting them both.

“— Allen! Back on the court! Don’t make me give you another C!”

~.~

The last class of the day was math with Professor Stein. Cisco had it with Caitlin, and they sat in the front row, scribbling notes furiously to keep up with their teacher’s enthusiastic ramblings. When the final bell rang, Professor Stein called them both to stay behind.

“I’ve got something for my 4.0 lovebirds.”

He leaned behind his desk for two thick envelopes and deposited one in each one's hands.

Caitlin tore hers open quickly, curiosity getting to the best of her. A stack of viewbooks from prestigious schools were freshly pressed, smelling like new paper.

“Straight from the guidance counsellor's office. They’re not yet out on rotation, you see, but I figured my overachieving students wanted a first peak.”

“Oh wow,” Caitlin replied, already looking into the Harvard one. “These have the updated statistics.”

“Of course, my dear.”

Cisco leafed through the schools in his selection, pausing at MIT, eyes lingering on rolling green hills of its campus.

Professor Stein pointed at Cisco. “And how was your internship at Star Labs?”

“The greatest. They want me to continue twice after school.”

“Really now? That’s quite remarkable.”

“Isn’t it?” Caitlin smiled, proud of him. Cisco blushed. “I told him so.”

There was a knock at the door, and Shawna appeared. “Caitlin we need you right now. It’s an emergency.”

Caitlin looked to Cisco.

“I thought I was driving you home. We could look at these together.”

“We really need you, Caity. Becky’s crying. I can drive you home.”

“Tomorrow,” Caitlin promised, squeezing his shoulder, then thanked Professor Stein again for the viewbooks.

Cisco tugged on her blazer for a goodbye kiss, reluctant to let her go. She leaned in, her fingers delicate on his face, smiling against his lips.

Shawna stomped a little, rolling her eyes, “Can we go?”

“One minute,” Caitlin said, looking into his eyes. “We’ll go over our favourite schools tomorrow?”

He raised an eyebrow, the corners of his mouth quirking upwards. “It’s a date.”

She grabbed her bag and the envelope, then followed Shawna out the door.

Cisco watched Caitlin scurry after Shawna, who was stomping away in her spiked combat boots.

“I’m glad that whatever squabble you two had seems to be put behind you.”

Cisco turned to their teacher, unashamed that he witnessed him smitten.

“Me too.”

Professor Stein had always been perceptive and easily approachable. Cisco had gone to him in times of trouble in the past four years plenty.

Cisco sat on a desk as Professor Stein tidied up, reflecting. “Sir, how do you help someone through grief?”

His teacher took off his glasses, cleaning them with the edge of his shirt before he responded. “This is about the passing of Dr. Snow?”

Everyone knew. He supposed they had to, not only because Caitlin’s dad had been an active donor and contributor to the restructuring of Central City High’s science stream, but because Cisco guessed it was required for her teachers to take special attention.

“She’s just not the same.”

“She won’t be,” he advised, firm yet gentle. “She lost one of the most important figures in her life.”

The only figure, Cisco thought bitterly, thinking about Dr. T’s suspicious absence in Caitlin’s life. It always made him scratch his head, how two people who lived in the same house could avoid and ignore each other for so long.

If Cisco could avoid Dante, he would.

Maybe it was a matter of the size of the house.

“I want to be there for her, but sometimes I feel like she’s pushing me away. Do I give her that space? Should I be persistent? Love is hard,” Cisco groaned after his monologue, flopping against the row of desks as if he were in a therapist’s office, not his math class. His teacher chuckled at him.

“Ah, but is your affection for Miss Snow difficult to muster? It takes effort for you to demonstrate your care?”

“No,” Cisco protested. “No, that’s easy.”

Professor Stein tapped on his shoes, asking him to get them off the desks.

Cisco's legs swung over the side obediently, and he sat back up.

Professor Stein tilted his head, and Cisco was alarmed to realize how his favourite teacher’s hair was beginning to grey.

Maybe that’s what made him stand out. After teaching as a professor and publishing his books, he came back to a high school to teach kids because he cared about them. Cisco didn't think he could do that. Lily was really lucky to have him as a dad.

“I know you love her Mr. Ramon. Patience is virtue. You’re astute for a young man of your age. Show her that love the best you can.”

That sounded about right.

“Yessir.”

“Now go home, enjoy those viewbooks.”

Cisco tucked the envelope under his arm, and took his advice.

~.~

Cisco was leafing through the glossy pages of Duke’s viewbook at the kitchen table, trying to concentrate through the constant keyboard banging leaking through the adjacent wall. He wasn’t allowed to ask Dante to be quiet, not even when he had to study and it was one of his pet peeves.

Don’t disturb him, Mama would always say, but his keyboard had an ear jack? Cisco had bought Dante a good quality headset a year and a half ago, thinking it would be a great gift to them both.

Dante didn’t use them, Cisco bet the wrapping was still on the box, buried somewhere in their closet considering he’s never seen them and it’s not like their room was very big. So who was the one really being unnecessarily disturbed?

How their neighbours haven't come pounding on their front door yet begging for silence was a mystery to him.

He was just getting into the gritty details of the application requirements when Rosita peered up at him on her tiptoes. Her ten little fingers gripped the table, eyes barely making it past the edge as she pushed herself up to see what Cisco was looking at.

“What are you doing?”

“Leyendo,” he said absentmindedly, showing her the bright graphs. She didn’t reply, and he looked down, how she had zero reaction, then forgot she was still fuzzy on verbs. Forgot that she couldn’t even read yet.

“Reading,” he translated. “For college. See? This is in North Carolina.”

“You’re leaving?” her voice wobbles, thick with hurt. “Like ‘Mando?”

Armando’s been gone at Cleveland State for two years, majoring in business. Cisco’s surprised sometimes that Ro even remembers their oldest brother.

“Not right away. But next year, yeah.”

Cisco didn’t see the big deal. He felt Rosita was pretty lucky, getting the apartment practically to herself. Cisco would have loved to be left alone growing up, not constantly stuck rubbing shoulders with the six people crammed into their three bedroom apartment with nowhere to breathe. But Caitlin and Barry both said growing up as an only child was lonely, wishing for siblings. Cisco wouldn’t know.

“Why?”

“Because I want to go to school, like the one you’re going to start tomorrow,” he explained. He glanced down at the entrance requirements and chuckled at his own analogy. “Except this isn’t kindergarten.”

There was just enough room for Rosita to squeeze onto his seat. He patted the space, and she climbed up with a little "oof” until their thighs were pressed together.

He read to her what was on the page just to keep her busy. It was the pictures she was interested in anyways.

“Where’s Mama?” he asked after a while. They had moved on from Duke to Stanford. Their dad still wasn’t home from work either, but he wouldn’t be, he usually wasn’t at this time.

Rosita shrugged her shoulders and Cisco rolled his eyes at himself, wondering why he expected the five year old of the house to have all the answers.

He slid off the chair, noticing the way she was droopy, her messy black curly hair spilling against the table as she leaned her head against it.

“Did you have a snack?”

She rolled her head from side to side with a whine. Cisco took that for a no.

He pulled out a fruit roll-up from the kitchen, ignoring Caitlin’s voice in the back of his head warning about high fructose.

After seeing to it that she’s good with opening the wrapper, Cisco knocked loudly on the doorframe of his and Dante’s room. “Where’s Mama?”

Dante kept playing, ignoring him. Cisco marched right over to the outlet and unplugged the keyboard.

“Hey!”

“Yo Beethoven. Were you supposed to be taking care of Rosita? Because I came home to her climbing the curtains, Dante.”

His brother waved him off, “She’s fine.”

“She was hungry.”

Dante glanced up at the clock on the wall.

“Mama went grocery shopping. We’re going to have dinner soon anyways.”

“Not for another few hours, I wasn’t supposed to be home this early. You can’t leave her alone like that she’s too young, and Mama expects us watch her!”

Dante banged his fist against the quiet keys, and Cisco had to keep a straight face at how that looked. “Stop fucking lecturing me, I’m older than you!”

“By a year,” Cisco scoffed. “Don’t go on about being 18 if you won’t even act like an adult.”

“Yeah, because you want to be an adult so bad, Cisco, don’t you? It’s just a number it doesn’t make you older.”

Not for the first time, Cisco found himself missing Armando. Things were easier with Dante when he was around, how he was practical like Dante yet level-minded like himself.

The door slammed loud behind him, frustrated. Dante was Dante. What was he to do? At least he got his car.

Cisco took his stack of books to the living room, wiping off Rosita’s sticky fingerprints from off the Stanford cover and got really interested in Harvard’s crimson booklet.

By dinner, he was excited, sprouting out campus facts as his dad asked to pass the bowl of vegetables.

Rosita kicked her legs in her seat beside him, happily munching away on the roast beef.

“Dude, just. Shut up,” Dante said with his mouth full after Cisco went on a, self-admitting, spiel about Stanford’s aeronautics engineering program.

Cisco narrowed his eyes, defending himself. “I have to apply by November for early admissions. That's two months away. We're talking about my future here.”

His mom and dad shared a look, one Cisco couldn’t decipher. He put his fork down, sensing dread.

“What? I told you, my SAT scores are really high. Maybe not Harvard okay, but MIT, UPenn, I think I have a real shot.”

It went quiet, it was uncomfortable and Cisco felt nervous, like he was the butt of a big joke.

“What?”

“Get that Ivy League crap out of your head, we can’t afford it.”

His mother gasped, hitting his father’s arm.

Cisco looked to Dante, who had his glass paused halfway to his lips.

“What Papa means is we know you talk big plans with tu novia, but where will the money for that come from?”

The words were faint, Cisco feeling a rush in his ears as his mind began to race, trying to compute. "Mama, I don't understand.”

“Those schools sound very expensive, Cisco.”

This couldn’t be happening, he pushed his plate away, sick to his stomach. “Two years ago you said you had money put away for me.”

“That was before Dante changed his mind about CCU music. And it was never going to be enough for what you’re talking about. We were already tight with Armando’s tuition.”

Dante coughed, nearly choking on the food, startled. “Mama,” he gaped, after a giant swallow of water. “¿Su dinero?”

“He is older, Cisco,” his dad replied, and it was condescending, felt cold like ice down Cisco’s back. “If you want a fancy college you’ll need a job, maybe two. You might have good grades for CC High, but for a full scholarship where everyone is smart? Be realistic, Mijo.”

Cisco’s eyes were stinging, blurring as the weight of their words washed over him, and he was so unprepared, so unbalanced to hear that news, it knocked him over, and now he felt like was going to drown.

"You don't think I'm good enough?"

"That's not what we're saying," his mother corrected, "But we do believe your aspirations are out of tune."

Out of tune. Giving all his college money away to his ungrateful brother, permitting him to Netflix in his room under the guise of studying composition, was out of tune.

He stood up abruptly, not able to stomach any more.

“You used my money on Dante? Dante? Who doesn’t even show up for school? Have I not been clear since I was twelve how much I wanted this?”

Rosita burst into tears at the volume of his voice, covering her ears. His mother ran to Rosita.

It wasn’t Rosita’s fault. It wasn’t. She was just a child. She was little, but somehow the way his mother ran to her and picked her up adoringly, soothing her whimpering was the last straw, twisting something in Cisco until it bent and snapped.

“You care for everyone in this house but me!”

“Francisco.”

“It’s true!” he cried, and maybe it wasn't, but his world was imploding, and this wasn't his fault, Cisco didn't do anything to deserve this.

He swiped at his eyes with the sleeve of his jean jacket, furious, “You never listen, you never care, you don’t know anything about what I want or am going through, even when I say it. It’s all about Dante or Rosita. You didn’t even care that I was chosen for Star Labs’ internship, how big of an accomplishment that was for me. Or that Caitlin’s papa died!”

“You were at Star Labs?” his father questioned, sliding his glasses up his nose. “Dante did you know this?”

His mother tore her gaze from his sister, stunned. “Dr. Snow?”

Even his parents were out of tune with each other. Out of tune, they said about him going to an Ivy, about becoming an engineer, he still processing it, outraged. Cisco wanted to throw up.

Dante spoke up. “Papa of course I knew he wouldn’t shut up about it. He was gone every day.”

Dante was defending him for once, probably guilty, and he should be, Cisco thought, but that wasn't enough.

He was on a roll, unable to stop yelling, “Armando got everything he wanted! Dante gets anything he asks for, no questions! A motorcycle, he goes and you're all oh, sure Dante, here you go, only pay half. Then he says, Haha surprise, I want to go to college after all, and so you go sure, let us deplete our youngest son's college funds!"

Even Rosita quieted, staring at Cisco.

"What?" she said, voice full of innocence.

His face crumpled, but he refused to break in front of them. "I worked so damn hard, and I get nothing?”

“It is not nothing,” his father scolded in Spanish. “CCU is a fine school, Francisco. You are just prejudiced. Caitlin is a fine girl, but her privilege has gone to your head.”

“That’s not true,” Cisco snapped back, switching languages smoothly. “This has nothing to do with Caitlin. Mama, tell him.”

She lowered her gaze, fussing again with Rosita’s plate, without replying.

His parents’ quietness was all the confirmation Cisco needed. A dark chuckle, more like a huff from a pushed out exhale escaped him, and he shook his head.

“Unbelievable,” he muttered under his breath, looking at the faces of his family. He didn’t even want to be here anymore.

“Well, since I got your attention,” he spat, “I was offered a placement at Star Labs for the Fall for after school. I need a parent to sign the contract with me.”

“¿Se paga?” Is it paid? Mama said.

After all that.

Cisco choked on his answer, already imagining what they were going to say. “No.”

“You’ll have to choose then, what you want more.”

Was this what it felt like? To see his entire future hanging by a thin, loose, unravelling thread? Cisco shouldn’t have to choose. Star Labs was his ticket out of here. Out of this mess, the one outstanding point on his application which would give him those scholarships, that admission.

But his parents didn't understand, and they won't.

And that's what was worse. It was not the lack of money, or that they gave it to Dante (even though that cut deep, and Cisco wasn't quite sure it was something he could ever forgive). He knew that they weren't wealthy, that they were four kids and still not even in a house. But they made it work for their children, set up this illusion, this fake fantasy land Cisco had been living in for years and watched him entangle himself deeply there, plant roots in it, and still never bothered to come clean and correct him.

They watched him grow up and fall in love with math and science--and Caitlin, and get his glowing letters from his teachers and still think the idea of him going away to one of the country's best schools was silly. Childish, like one of Rosita's make believe stories.

How could they see him, see what he's willing to sacrifice, how hard he'll work, has worked, and still be so confident that Cisco was wasting his time?

“I’m going to sleepover at Barry’s,” Cisco announced, too upset to look them in the eye. Too angry to wait and listen to their reply. To be given permission to leave.

They were way past granting him permission to do things anymore, in his books.

Dante tried to pull him back when he passed by, uttered his name, but Cisco pushed, shoving his brother out of his path with a hard glare, poisoned with fiery pain, daring him to say another word.

He didn't wait for the elevator of the building to make it to their floor, just ran down the spiralling steps, all at once, and fled.

~.~

Cisco called Caitlin twice but it went to voicemail. He banged his head against the steering wheel in the humid, sticky old car with the rusted paint and broken AC, keys still in the engine, motor running, stalled in the apartment parking lot, and cried loud ugly sobs.

~.~

Dr. Allen didn’t question why he had to double his pancake recipe in the morning, just ruffled Cisco’s hair and called him and Barry sluggers, and for that Cisco was grateful.

Cisco parted ways with Barry on the Allen's front steps, after he got pulled in for a hug.

"We'll look at options, okay? Jobs and stuff." Barry cracked a smile. "Maybe we can wait tables together."

"You'd do that for me?" Cisco, asked, pleasantly surprised.

Barry nodded. "I could use some extra cash, to take Iris out and stuff. You want to walk to her house with me?"

Cisco nodded to the Toyota. "Nah, I told Caitlin I'd pick her up this year now that I have the car. I'll see you in school."

~.~

Cisco sat in his driver's seat, tapping his fingers against the dashboard, still dreary, exhausted, and weighed down, but, hopeful to see the one person who would be sure to make him feel better.

Minutes clocked by and his hope turned to worry, and he wrestled with the idea of unbuckling his seatbelt to see what was wrong.

Because something was wrong. Caitlin was late. And she's never been late in all the years that he knew her.

She was late and so he was just as relieved as surprised when Dr. T knocked on his window, after walking briskly down her house's long driveway.

He rolled it down, frowning. “Is Caitlin sick?”

“She already left with her driver,” she informed. “She made it clear that she didn’t want to see you.”

It was like being dunked in cold water.

“What?”

“Get to school, Francisco.”

Cisco grabbed his phone in the glove compartment, about to call her, not above believing Carla Tannhauser pulling a fast one on him (she never did exactly like him, but this would've been cruel) when the text came through.

❤ Caitlin ❤ : We're breaking up.

#the flash #cisco x caitlin #killervibe #the flash fic #tkv fic #lux et veritas #thatkillervibe fic #ch 1

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inaheartbeat-phff · 7 years ago

Text

Chapter 1

Monday, January 5th 2015, 8:30am Noordeinde Palace, The Hague, Netherlands

Her Royal Highness, The Princess of Orange will be representing His Majesty King Willem-Alexander for the Royal tour this year.

The Princess of Orange will be touring the United Kingdom for 14 days.

The Princess of Orange is excited to spend time with her Godmother, Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II.

The Princess of Orange will be staying at Buckingham Palace during her stay in London, Balmoral Castle when in Scotland and Hillsborough Castle in Northern Ireland.

The Princess of Orange will be posting on her royal highness' official twitter and instagram page before and during her tour.

"I think that should do it." Princess Arabella said as she finish reading the subsequent tweets that announce this year's royal tour. "Thank you Adam." she thanked her press secretary for the announcement. "Hopefully we'll get some positive responses." Turning to her private secretary, Jane, "Let's start our itinerary for the trip shall we? Please take out the catalogue as well, we need to see which jewellery to bring."

"To start off, the royal tour will kick start in March 11th and it will end on the 25th. You'll be greeted by the Prime Minister, David Cameron at the Tarmac along with the press and a few members of the public. You'll have a 15 minutes walkabout and then you'll be having lunch with the Queen and her family. After lunch is free and that night you'll have a state dinner at Buckingham Palace." Jane said the itinerary for the first day.

"Yes, I will be wearing the Rose Cut Diamond Bandeau for the state dinner, but bring the Laurel Wreath Tiara as well for back up. Make sure Eva pick a selection of dress and outfits to wear for the trip by Wednesday if possible. I want to be able to choose and pack asap."

"Yes your highness. I will also forward the tiaras selection as well as the outfits once its finalised to Julia so she can plan the makeup and hair." Jane said as she wrote it down in her tablet.

"We have been liaising with Her Majesty The Queen's security details as well as Scotland Yard to go over the security measures. Everything is on track and if anything were so to happen, you will be escorted to a bunker nearest to your location. All locations you are to visit or go have been checked out and will be checked out again nearer to the day. Every possible exit and entry has been thought out and barricades will be made once you’re there. MI-5 and MI-6 agents will be spread out undercover when you're outdoors and all personnel's have been checked." Arabella’s head of security Finn reported.

Two hours later and the meeting was finally over. They’ve gone through so many scenarios and finalize their schedules so that all that's left to do is to actually go on the tour. Standing up, Arabella said her thanks to everyone and walked back to her office. Once she entered the office, she took a deep breath and sat down on her really comfortable chair.

While checking on her emails and her charities, someone knocked on her office door once before opening it. It was a custom to do that here, whenever a royal member was in a room, closed door or not, the staff will knock once before entering the room. It was a sign as respect and it was easier without her having to say come in all the time.

Her butler, Pieter, who goes everywhere with her, stepped into the room and announce one of her ladies in waiting with a bow. "Ms. Sara your highness." With another bow, he exited the room. It was tradition that whoever visited her, or wanted to speak with her, they would be announced first by her footman or as you can say, butler. That's why Pieter, the fifty something year old man, have worked with her for years, since she was eighteen and took up more royal duties.

"Your Royal Highness" Sara spoke with a small curtsy. Once she have straightened up, she came closer to where Arabella was sitting and gave her a document of papers. On that document were her day to day activities for the month.

Arabella, also known as the Princess of Orange or as the crown princess of the Netherlands, has an army of entourage, there to make her lives easier and would require to go everywhere with her. Her private secretary, Jane, is the one who arranges meetings and all the important royal stuff. However, her ladies in waiting, Sara and Anna, were the ones who schedule her days, whether it will be with lunch or meetings or even her royal duties etc. Without Sara or Anna, her life would not be as systematic or as organised as it is, which is an important thing as she is a senior member of the Royal family and is the heir apparent.

"Your Highness, your schedule for this week starting today is as follows, Monday 05/01/15 - 2:15pm, meeting with parliament 5:30pm, high tea with Her Majesty, Queen Maxima 8:30pm, dinner with hereditary Grand Duke of Luxembourg Tuesday 06/01/15 - 9:00am, breakfast with the prime minister 1:30pm, lunch with HRH Prince Henry of Wales 5:00pm, afternoon jog/walk at the palace gardens 8:30pm, Dinner with HRH Prince Henry of Wales Wednesday 07/01/15 - 7:00am, morning jog 11:30am, brunch with Children's Peace Foundation 5:30pm, tea Thursday 08/01/15 - 10:00am, visit the Centre for Safety and Development 8:30pm, dinner with His Majesty The King and family Friday 09/01/15 to Sunday 11/01/15 - Birthday Weekend retreat to the Alps joined by HRH Prince Henry of Wales, HRH The Duke and Duchess of Cambridge, HRH Hereditary Grand Duke and Duchess of Luxembourg, HRH Princess Madeleine and her husband, Christopher O'Neill, Ms Charlotte Casiraghi and Mr Gad Elmaleh.

The following week after your return from the Alps, there will be many celebrations of your 30th birthday ma'am. That includes a parade on Monday, a portrait reveal on Tuesday, a press conference and photo op with international and national television on Wednesday, State dinner on Thursday, a new hospital wing in honour of your name on Friday, a charity concert celebrating your birthday on Saturday and a charity football match on Sunday, Your highness."

Reading through the papers and the additional information given for each event, she signed the confirmation document before handing it back to Sara to be processed. That was how it works here, the schedules are just rough drafts that is acceptable to change. Once she'd been briefed, she would put in Arabella’s input, whether she want to do the engagement or not before signing the confirmation document. Once she'd signed that, the schedule will be sent to the communication's department to be written out and put out to the public. It will be a concise version and only official engagements will be added in. This way, the Dutch press will have a few days' notice to send their designated photographers on those events. It is known that there is an agreement with the press and the royal family in the Netherlands, that while we are working, they have every right to take pictures and film, however, during our private time, they are not allowed to take pictures.

"Is that all Sara?" Arabella asked her lady in waiting, going over my schedule once again.

"Yes your highness." She then did a small curtsy again before going out the door.

It was eleven thirty when Sara was done briefing her about her engagements and fifteen minutes later, Pieter knocked on the door again before coming inside.

"Lunch will be served at 12pm your royal highness and your glam team will arrive there at 12:45pm to get you ready for the parliament meeting." with a bow, he then exit the room and Arabella was left to finish up on her paperwork about her charities before she need to go to the dining room.

Right now, She was at the Noordeinde Palace at The Hague. That's where all the royal offices are located just like how in the UK, their offices are at St. James palace. They generally like to keep their offices at the same place so all their meetings will be held here. Of course they have their own private offices at home but this is where typically most of their staff works.

Her father, King Willem-Alexander's office is located at the Ring, which is at the centre of the palace, her step-mother, Queen Maxima's office is located at the West wing and her offices are located in the East wing. Joint meetings and offices for the three of them is located at the ring as well. There is only three offices in this palace as her half siblings are only eleven, nine and six years old. Right now, all the announcements or anything important will come from her father's or step-mother's offices, however, once they have grown up and have their own offices, it will all be located at the West wing together with her step mother as they are not in direct line of the throne if she were to have children. That is if they decide to have a royal public life.

This is how the line of succession will go, her father is the King. As a first born, Arabella will be the first in line and heir to the throne. Right now, her sister Amalia is second in line, while Alexia is third and Ariene is fourth in line to the throne. At fifth in line to the throne is her uncle, Constantijn, followed by her cousins Eloise, Claus-Casimir and Leorore respectedly. And finally, the last in the order of succession is her great aunt, Margriet, who is Oma's sister. (Oma is what she call her grandmother, Beatrix)

When the clock strikes twelve, Pieter knocked and announced that the food is ready. With a sigh, she saved my work before shutting off the computer and putting the important documents where they should be. Standing up, she walked out the door and turned left. Walking down the hall, she turned right before going into the second door on her left, which is the dining room.

Sitting at the head of the table, food quickly got out from the side door and was served promptly. After the delicious three course meal, Arabella stepped out of the dining room and went back to the hallway. A few doors down was her dressing room and usually where her glam team would prep her if she was at Noordeinde Palace and are needed for an engagement.

When the clock strikes quarter to one, Pieter knocked on the door before announcing the glam team, or as she likes to call them, the glam squad. They are there to make her look good and look poised and as regal and all that fun stuff. Arabella can do her own hair and makeup as well as pick her own clothes. However, if she were to do that, her hair would be in a braid, with minimal makeup and wearing jeans and a t-shirt. Something not appropriate for the crown princess to be seen in Public.

"Your Royal Highness, Mr. Issac, Ms. Eva and Ms. Julia has arrived. Do I let them in Your highness?" Pieter asked.

"Yes yes, let them in. If anyone would like to reach me, connect the line. I don’t have my phone with me right now Pieter." She told him.

"Yes Ma'am." He said before bowing and leaving the room. Not a second later, the three musketeers knocked on the door before entering. Each of them bowing and curtsying in respect before moving closer towards her.

"Madam Arabella, How are you?" Issac asked. He's there to do her hair. I swear he is such a hair god, he can make her birds nest of a hair look amazing.

"I am well thank you Issac, what look are you doing for me today?" She likes to ask and chat with her stylists and make conversation during their time together. That way, they bonded and she feel comfortable with them. She didn’t want to be that person who doesn’t like to talk to them and just sit there and play with their phones like a spoiled brat.

Before working with Arabella, Issac was a freelance hair stylist that works on mostly bridal hairstyle. When she turned 18, he was 25 and was looking for a more permanent job. She sat through a lot of interviews with many hairstylists doing her hair the same kind of style, and each of them either is too flamboyant, used too much hairspray, made her look old or just plain nervous. When Issac came in, he greeted her with a bow, asked her how she was that morning and calmly did her hair. While he was working on Arabella’s hair, he kept the small talk. She didn’t feel any harsh tugging or any pulling. Once he was done, he gave her a mirror and asked her what she thinks. It was the same hairstyle that has been done by various other hairstylist, some who have done other royals before, but it looked amazing. It was the same simply hairstyle, yet he added his own twist to it that made it unique and amazing. That was when she knew she had to keep him. He's been with her ever since.

"I was thinking of doing some lose curls and just let it fall naturally. Since it's only a parliament meeting, I don’t want to overdo it." Issac said as he start shampooing her hair. The dressing room we have is one that is like a salon and spa. It has one of those seats where there's a sink and chair so you can wash your hair and all that stuff.

"Madam Arabella, your skin is absolutely glowing this morning!" Her makeup artist Julia exclaimed. "Perhaps we should keep it natural today."

"Anything is fine." she said

Arabella met Julia when she had an even in the UK when I was 16. It was a state dinner, and at that time Oma wanted to bring her along. It was a really fancy event so she had to have a makeup artist to do my makeup. Her hair was done by Oma's hair stylist at the time. They clicked instantly and Arabella love how Julia knows her skin type and what works. She doesn’t make her look cakey and she always look flawless and glowing at the end of the session. Immediately, whenever she have events or even a dance at school, she would call her and ask her to do the makeup. Once Arabella turned 18, she hired Julia permanently to be her makeup artist.

"As for your outfit today, I was thinking of something nude but still chic and regal." Her stylists, Eva said.

Eva has been her stylist since she was ten years old and her mother had just passed away. She had been there for her when she went on her first date, her mother's funeral and everything in between. She is the only person Arabella would trust with her outfits as she knows her style and respects me if I didn’t want to wear what she had suggested.

An hour later and she was ready to go.

The meeting with Parliament took a few hours and it was half past four by the time she has finish and is on her way home from Binnenhof.

Arabella was really tired and have a pounding headache from that meeting with parliament. Since she became heir apparent in 2013, it was her duty to represent her father in parliamentary meetings. The more important ones that decides the fate of the country are the only ones that her father attends. Monthly meetings and others are the ones that she is required to attend. Don’t get her wrong, she loves being a part of all these decisions and having her input put into consideration, but most of the time, these meetings are extremely boring and usually there isn't much to discuss. The monthly meetings are just to keep each party informed about what the other is doing that month and to keep the royal family in the loop of everything. Since she's turning 30 next week, this particular meeting was about her finally settling down and get married. Of course they knew that she was in a relationship with Harry for three years now but the topic of marriage hasn’t been in the conversations yet.

Both families have known about the relationship and how serious they are in each other. It's mostly just a matter of WHEN he would propose, not if. Since Harry's turning 30 later this year, Arabella is sure that he's getting some talks about marriage soon enough. She would very much like it if they were to get married, its just he would have to sacrifice more than she would since she is heir and not fourth in line.

Once she does marry, she still have to go to these boring parliament meetings but at least she would have someone by her side to make things less boring for her.

Speaking of Harry, her phone was ringing in her clutch so she took it out and accepted the call.

"Pinky's Pleasure Palace…. What's your pleasure?" I answered the phone in a low voice, hopefully coming across as seductive.

"I really hope you know who you answered the phone to and not just answering them with that line all the time." she heard a deep voice chuckle on the other line.

"Of course I knew who was calling ginger. Can you imagine me answering the phone like that to aunty lilibet?" She laughed, relaxing to her seat.

"How was your day love?" Harry asked on the other line. Arabella could hear some rustling of papers on the other line.

"It was long. Had a meeting this morning with my advisors on the tour this year. We've set a date and the place where we will be going." she said smiling to herself. I wonder if he knows or not. He probably does. The announcement was made while I was in the parliament meeting. She thought.

"Really? Where will you be off to this year Your Royal Highness? Can I guess that you'll be with your charming boyfriend for two weeks?" he ask slyly on the phone.

"Are you? Spending my engagements and travel with me? Oh Harry, is it true?" She asked him hopefully. It really would be amazing to have him with me on the tour. Especially for her to see whether or not he is cut out for this life. Being crown prince is different from being third in line to the throne like he has been his entire life. He was the spare. He knows he will never be in King one day. Arabella on the other hand has been raised, bred and breathed being the heir. She was in William's place growing up, when her Oma was still Queen. She knew what to do once her father becomes king and what responsibility she has.

"Yes. Granny thought it would do me good to be with you on your engagements. Of course there are some engagements I'm not going and even if I am, its mostly as a guide and also to accompany you during your tour. Do you have your schedule for the tour yet?" he asked excited to be able to spend two weeks with his other half, even though most of the time she would be working.

"No not yet, Jane, Adam and Finn are finalising the technical part of the tour before passing it over to Sara and Anna to work out the schedule part of the trip." She shrugged looking out the window, seeing the greenery pass by.

"I tend to forget that you have an army of people doing your work and a whole bunch of protocols and process you need to follow. Whenever Granny sends me for a tour, her office is usually the one planning the trip and I just show up and look pretty." Harry laughed on the other line.

"Yes well, my office has been trained to do this for forever so I think I'm used to it I guess."

"What else did you do today Bel?" He asked. It was quiet on his end of the line meaning to say that he was paying attention to her now and not multi-tasking.

"I got a briefing for this week as well as my birthday celebrations the following week. January is always been a busy month, its mostly meetings about the upcoming year, events and all that. I also had a parliament meeting this afternoon. Actually, I'm on the way from Binnenhof to Huis ten Bosch. It was really boring. They brought up marriage again. Saying things like, I'm not getting any younger, I need to have an heir before I turn forty. Stuff like that. I just told them that when we're ready, we're ready." Arabella ranted to Harry. It was really annoying for her to have the parliament try and control her life. Not that they have any power against her or anything, really, she can do as she pleased as long as its legal. It just gets really frustrating for her when the parliament thinks they can control her. News flash, no one can control her, and her father will be damned if he let them pressure her into doing something she doesn’t want to do. "Anyways, I'm on my way to have tea with Maxima now, and tonight I'm having dinner with Guillaume at some restaurant I don’t know where."

"I see." Harry said lowly. Since he was turned thirty last year, his grandmother and the office have been pressuring him to get married as well. only in his case, they can control his life and will probably make him do something for the better of the family. Lately, they're ratings have been low, due to Kate not doing much public engagements and the press not seeing enough of George in public. The Family's rating have been dropping and if he doesn’t do anything soon, he was afraid what would happen. Arabella on the other hand, has been a total star the past two years, stepping up as heir of the throne and doing everything she possibly could to please the public yet keep to herself. In a way he was jealous of how the press is over there and wish that the agreement they had with the press would be the same in the UK as well.

"My flight is leaving tomorrow morning at 9am. I should be there around 11am." he said on the phone.

"hm, I have breakfast with the PM tomorrow morning at nine. After that I'm all yours. What did you do today love?" She asked him, seeing as they have 10 minutes left of the journey.

"Not as busy as you were Bel. I just have a few meetings about Sentebale and also about the Invictus games next year." He said.

"Oh, no engagements today?" she asked him.

"Nope. I don’t have one until towards the end of January so for the next two weeks, I'm all yours." he said on the other side.

"Are you serious? You're not joking are you Henry? You mean to tell me that you're staying for my birthday celebrations? All the events? Have Aunty Lilibet gave you permission. Please say she has, I don’t want you to get into trouble." Arabella said with hope in her voice.

"Yes. I am serious Bella. She was the one who suggested that I stay there since I was there already." he said over the phone. Harry knew why he was staying there for her birthday celebration. It was a surprise so he wasn’t going to tell her why.

"Oh Harry! That's wonderful news. I can't wait to see you tomorrow. Will you be staying with me?" She asked him smiling.

"I know love. Yes, I am staying with you, I hope you don’t mind."

Arabella could see Huis Ten Bosch in the distance as she was approaching the gates. "Harry, I've got to go love. I'll see you tomorrow okay? I’ll have Pieter and Mina prepare your suite for you. Barend will pick you up from the airport tomorrow, so look out for him will you?" Arabella asked.

"I will love. Take care. I love you." Harry said on the phone.

"I love you too Charming." She replied before hanging up. Arabella turned to put her phone back inside the purse and looked up to the front seat, which was occupied by Markus, her driver and Finn, her protection officer.

"Finn, isn't it exciting? Harry spending two weeks here as well as attending my birthday events. I hope he got what it takes, I'll be so heartbroken if he's not cut out for the job." She sighed in her seat.

"I'm sure he will be the right man for the job ma'am." Finn replied

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Monday, January 5th, 5:30pm Huis ten Bosch

"Her Royal Highness, The Princess of Orange, Princess Arabella of the Netherlands, your majesty."

Maxima was in her sitting room watching the news when Arabella got there.

She just changed her outfit quickly when she got there and pulled her hair into a ponytail. It was a semi-formal event so there was no need for her to wear her skin tight dress.

When Arabella was within two feet of her step-mother, Maxima, she gave a small curtsy of respect for her queen. Once she was standing straight again, she quickly gave Maxima a hug and kissed her cheeks.

"How are you today mija?" Maxima asked her as she holds her step daughter at arm's length, checking her over to see if she was okay.

"I'm doing okay mama," Arabella started calling Maxima mama when she was sixteen years old. It was one of those days that she wanted to be a normal girl and not second in line to the throne. It was an emotional day and Maxima was there to console her soon-to-be step-daughter. Maxima told her that being normal is not that much fun. How she should be lucky to be a royal and be proud of herself that her voice is heard at such a young age. It was then that Arabella knew, Maxima will never replace her mummy, but she will be her mama. One who would love her unconditionally and will help shape her into a strong beautiful woman.

"I'm happy to hear that my dear." Maxima smiled. "Come, let's have tea and catch up." She beckoned her eldest to the couch where their tea sat waiting to be poured.

Once they each have their tea in their hands, they caught up with each other. Arabella would always try to find time in her busy schedule to meet with her step-mother every week if possible. She needed to tell her everything that that’s going on and what she should do. She always goes to Maxima for advice because Maxima will always be the voice of reason in Arabella. Her father on the other hand is always the goofball teddy bear and wouldn’t know how to advice the young girl at all. Follow your heart, he would say. That doesn’t help anybody Arabella thought.

Arabella told Maxima about the upcoming weeks as well as the royal tour to the UK. She also told Maxima how excited she is to spend her birthday with Harry and how he's staying for the duration of her Birthday week. She also told Maxima about the parliament being pushy and pushing her to marriage when she doesn’t know if Harry is fit for this life or not.

"I mean, I know that he's no common boy, but he's always been so carefree you know mama. He's one of those people that jokes around and make everyone laugh. He doesn’t like all those political stuff and you know how he doesn’t want to be king. He could see the stress of it in William and had assured himself he would never be king. By marrying me, he would have to sacrifice so much. He wouldn’t be able to spend much time with family, he will be three hours away, he would have to spend Christmas and other holidays here instead of England. I don’t know if I could do that to him mama. I don’t think I can take his freedom away." Arabella spoke. Her heart broke just thinking of not being able to spend the rest of her life with Harry. He was her anchor, the one who keeps her from losing her mind and staying down to earth.

"I don’t think that's your choice mija. He knows what he signed up for when he got to know you back in 2011. He definitely knows what he was doing in 2012 when he asked you to be his girlfriend. I don’t think he would have stayed this long if he is not cut out for this job. Mija, he has grown up thinking he was third in line to the british throne. He has grown up treated as a spare. He knows that you will be Queen one day, he knows what he signed up for. Trust your heart Mija. It knows what's important. Do you want a life with him mija? To grow old together and have kids?" Maxima asked her daughter.

"of course I do mama. I dream of that all the time. I don’t think I can see anyone else to be with than him." Arabella confessed.

"Then you have nothing to be worried about Mija." Maxima smiled at her eldest daughter. Even though Arabella was not her biological daughter, Maxima would always think of her as one of her own. She saw her mija grew up from an awkward teenager to a beautiful woman and she couldn’t be more proud.

"Now, tell me how you feel turning thirty." Maxima asked smiling at her daughter. No matter what happens, she is proud to call her, her daughter.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Two hours later and she was done with tea and caught up with Maxima. She then went up to her room in the west wing of the palace and got ready for her dinner with Guillaume. She hasn’t seen him in ages as they are quite busy people.

She was super tired from the day but knew that this was only the beginning. She could feel it in her gut that her year will only get busier as it pass on.

Next Chapter ->

#phff #chapter 1 #prince harry #royalty #fanfic

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junker-town · 7 years ago

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Dwight Howard isn’t even the saddest thing about the Dwight Howard trade

We have that and more in Thursday’s NBA newsletter.

The Hornets traded Dwight Howard to the Nets on Wednesday, receiving Timofey Mozgov and a couple of second-round picks in return. Much of the attention has been focused on Howard’s shift slide to [motions with hands] all of this, such as Kristian Winfield’s piece on Dwight’s value never being lower. There’s also the amusing conclusion of the long, long flirtation between Howard and the Nets.

But can we talk about the Hornets for a minute?

Charlotte did this deal to get rid of Howard, yes, who was productive last year but has a strong reputation as a reactive agent in the locker room. But Howard’s deal is set to expire after next season, and Mozgov’s hefty contract extends into 2019-20. So this was about cutting $7.8 million in salary cap for next season at the expense of taking on a much worse player and adding $16.7 million in something like dead salary the following year.

Yes, the Hornets’ new regime -- led by longtime Lakers general manager Mitch Kupchak -- is digging out of a hole previous dug. Without this trade, Charlotte would have been knocking on the luxury tax, unacceptable for a team this bad. But this seems like a pretty tough pill to swallow six months away from the deadline to cut salary.

It’s somehow made even worse by the fact that Kupchak signed Mozgov to that ugly deal in the first place. Or perhaps that’s poetic. Whatever the case, it’s a brutal first move for a new front office. Sorry, Charlotte.

Doscientos

Minnesota Lynx coach Cheryl Reeve became the eighth coach to ever hit 200 wins in the WNBA on Tuesday. (She’s also just the second woman to reach that threshold, joining the late, great Anne Donovan.) Howard Megal checks in on Reeve’s mileposts along the way.

Reeve is on her way to claiming the mantle of the best WNBA coach ever. She’s coached the Lynx since 2010, racking up those 200 wins with the best winning percentage for any coach in WNBA history. She’s tied with Van Chancellor for the most titles for any coach (four).

And she’s only 51 years old, with just eight years in the hopper. She could do this for another 20 years and while she won’t have Maya Moore and Sylvia Fowles all that time, she’s proven she has the chops to lead her team to victory. Congrats on the milestone.

Links Galore

The NBA Draft is here! Coverage begins at 7 p.m. ET on ESPN. We’ll have live coverage, of course, including piping hot takes as they present themselves from yours truly.

RICKY O’DONNELL’S FINAL MOCK DRAFT!

Ricky O’Donnell’s nine draft sleepers you want on your favorite team.

I wrote about why it doesn’t really matter if players refuse to visit or give medical info to teams in the lottery.

Kevin McHale was apparently spotted in the crowd at the President’s rally in Minnesota on Wednesday. McHale, as you know, works NBA broadcasts for TNT and NBA TV. “It will be interesting to see if there’s a reaction within the league,” he said, desperately avoiding all the landmines laying about.

Deandre Ayton has another weakness for his on-screen graphic: his sponsored tweet game needs work.

I had missed this: P.J. Tucker’s absolutely unreal list of sneakers worn in the 2018 playoffs.

Ryan Bernardoni’s rules for responsible team-building. Important to remember on draft day.

Dear Rockets fans: please don’t Yelpbomb Ayesha Curry’s new restaurant in Houston because you’re mad your favorite team missed 27 straight three-pointers in an elimination game.

Mo Bamba is the latest chapter in Harlem’s rich basketball history.

Zach Lowe on whether the Celtics should include Jaylen Brown in a potential trade package for Kawhi Leonard.

The Grizzlies are reportedly heavy with suitors trying to get the No. 4 pick away from them.

Dewayne Dedmon will eschew free agency. I like to think the market analysis told Dedmon’s camp that he’d only likely get a little more money over his player option, and he already had vacation plans for early July.

Kyle O’Quinn, however, will enter free agency, giving the Knicks a bit more cap space and letting Kyle O’Quinn Island book some guests from a new fan base until, like, the regular season starts and everyone realizes that Kyle O’Quinn Island is no place to winter.

WNBA players are going hard on Twitter this season.

It’s time for John Wall to put the pressure on the Wizards to improve.

What we can learn from the last time Nick Nurse was a head coach.

Six things that could get the Mavericks back to the playoffs.

Kill the NBA Draft. Bomani and Pablo make a great case.

Where to cry in public in Boston, mapped. Just in case, I suppose.

And finally: I would watch this fake sitcom Play by Play as imagined by Jimmy Fallon, the top prospects, and friends.

Be excellent to each other.

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coffeeandcalligraphy · 6 years ago

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9 things finishing my 9th book taught me

Hey People of Earth!

Oh boy is that title real. Is this it. Have we reached the top of the mountain. I think yes?? The deed has been DONE, the book has been WROTE, I am in SHOCK.

I honestly didn’t think I’d be writing this post until June, seeming as though I figured REWIRED had another 3-4 chapters still kicking. I’ll go into detail about how the end of this book came to be in a separate writing update, but in short: it was an accident! (The book actually ends with the last chapter I updated on for this blog--BAD HABITS. If you missed that update, check it out HERE.)

I’ve been writing REWIRED since October of 2017 (lil munchkin was in grade 11!). That means I’ve been drafting this novel for a year and a half! Out of all my books, this one has definitely taught me the most.

I’ve done posts like this in the past for my other books, so in honour of the tradition, here is nine things finishing my ninth novel taught me!

1. What I like to write

Oh boy, this is such a big one. The start of REWIRED was really hard for me to write because I was transitioning between two styles: YA with dystopian vibes, to a more literary voice. At the start of drafting, I had no idea I would eventually start writing this novel as litfic, hence why the style on page one is so different from the style on the last page. I knew my literary voice and tastes were developing, I just didn’t know where this development would take me.

From October 2017-February 2018, the style was a more refined take on its initial YA dystopian predecessor. It was only when I read The Girls by Emma Cline in March of that year that I really realized where I wanted my style to be! I had struggled finding my voice in that four month period of the novel’s first draft, but reading that book really clicked everything in place for me. Whilst I’d incorporated more of a literary tone in the early chapters, I felt unsure about the voice. But when I read The Girls and drafted chapter 9 of the book shortly after (ironically, I later titled it Girl), everything really clicked in place for me! (so basically my writing advice is read the girls)

From playing around with my style in this book, I’ve really solidified what I love to write: adult litfic is where it’s at for me currently! yee haw.

2. Who my protagonist is

Reeve, the protagonist of REWIRED has been a character that has been with me since I was in grade eight (age 13). I’m going to uni in the fall and turning eighteen this year (wILD), so I’ve been in her head for five years. I talk about this in detail in the vlog I’ll have up of me finishing this book, but for so long, I tried to make Reeve someone she wasn’t. I had this idea of what the “right female protagonist” should be: someone kickass, unflinching, generous, but also a fighter. I had the very tropey ‘strong female character’ idea stuck in my head for so many years. Instead of writing Reeve as who she was, I wrote her as this strong female character--the person I thought she should be.

For a long time, I couldn’t understand why I’d always get feedback that Reeve was “so dramatic”, or “so selfish”, or “so annoying”. I tried really hard to fit her into this mould: I made her selfless, I made her kickass, the list goes on. But none of this worked. She was still “so dramatic” and “so selfish” and “so annoying” and even I got so fed up with her, I considered writing her in third person because I just couldn’t stand her anymore. After five whole books of being in her head, straight on, I couldn’t do it anymore.

But REWIRED changed the game for me. Even in the beginning of this book, I won’t lie, I made an effort to make Reeve self-aware and apologetic for her bad actions, but it never made her any more ‘likable’. I’d literally wrestled with her for five books and nothing I was doing to make her likable was working. So I gave up! I stopped trying to make her this kickass protagonist that was well-rounded and generous and logical and just accepted her for who she was. For five books, I’d tried to make her someone she wasn’t, and she literally didn’t care and kept up until I gave in and really accepted her and allllllll her (many) flaws.

And... that’s actually how I started to LOVE Reeve. Before this, I’d never really loved her (I’d always preferred my boys), but book six Reeve said FUCK THE BOYS I'm THE BEST. Which. Fair. Because she really is. Reeve is arrogant, and selfish, and irrational, and manipulative, but I love her SO much, and I’m so sad I didn’t appreciate her this much until this book because she’s the best?? On top of this, I’ve been absolutely blown away at the reception she’s gotten on this blog and within friends! I’m still sometimes shocked when people say they love Reeve because I spent so much time trying to fix her when she didn't need fixing. Now she goes around claiming she’s God and shit, and she’s never been more herself, oops.

3. That writing buddies are important

Like for real though, this book never would have been written without my buddies. Literal extreme thanks to @sarahkelsiwrites for putting up with my ass writing this book. I was the worst??

This book was really difficult for me to write/keep up with. I’d experienced an overload of school, and tonsss of anxiety that really witheld me from drafting as I’d expected. Thanks to Sarah, this book actually got written? Sarah is basically my ghost writer? Sarah is basically my ghost?? Period??

Also a huge shout out to my moms @sssoto and @shaelinwrites who’ve been cheering me on and like being so nice about the writing in this book since the start?? Like I’m sorry this is a cheesy Oscars speech, but I love you all?? Y’all are the reason this book done got wrote??

My writing buddies are the best please send them all the love in the world!

4. That writing doesn’t have to be fast

I love going back to my writing updates from 2016 where I was like “omg guys I only wrote 500k words this month omg ahaha!” and laughing because sis went from the goddamn HARE to the TURTOISE real quick with this book.

With the style + genre change, this was to be expected, but holy wow? I slowed down like 200%. But--I’m not mad at this at all. I think I learned how to actually take my time with writing because of this book. I wrote 70 words today? GREAT. I wrote 200 words this month? You know what--that is WONDERFUL, writing is not always about how quickly you’re putting out words! I used to get caught up in this mentality a lot when I was younger, so learning to accept that slow + steady wins the whole fckin race really helped.

5. That my writing doesn’t have to be morally correct

Lol I learned this so much, so so much. I had a huge habit of trying to correct the morally incorrect in my book, even when it was out of character. I did this a lot with Reeve (see above), where she’d say something, and then stiffly apologize for it even though she never would actually do that. This was my attempt at making everything morally correct, and ties into the whole ‘my characters must be likable thing’.

I call book six the book of making everyone bad people, and that’s what it BE. And I’d never want it any other way! I learned I love writing about bad people, and bad things, and bad people doing bad things. It’s my guilty pleasure, and I ain’t ever going to stop.

But I really stopped trying to resolve all the ‘morally incorrect’ content in my books like I used to (when out of character of course) and embrace evil?? like yesssss, welcome to the dark side.

6. I’m capable to push through struggle

Whilst I never felt this way during times of struggle, looking back, I definitely know I’m capable to fix my issues even when I feel they are unfixable. Even if I have to do this with a LOT of help (*cough* sarah *cough*), I know this is possible. I had a lot of lows writing this book, but I always made it out, no matter what. I’ve learned to trust myself a lot more, and give myself time to sort through the mud instead of giving up entirely.

7. Everything is changeable

Ya girl done changed everything in this book. From resurrecting characters to changing Reeve + Darren’s relationship from *wholesome friendship* to *wild failed engagement*, to giving Emily an entirely new personality, I really learned to embrace change in this book. I think a lot of us get caught up in the worries of change. This can cause lots of self doubt etc etc. The FOSTERED series is a personal project, but even knowing that, I was so hesitant to change things at the start of the novel. But as it progressed, I learned that hey--I make mistakes. Sometimes something doesn’t go the way I thought it would, sometimes I think of a better way to execute something. It’s not the end of the world to change things. I’ve embraced chaos, basically.

8. I don’t always have to stick to plans

This sort of plays into the last point, but I definitely want to talk about this! Whilst I’ve pantsed this entire series, I’ve also incorporated *some* level of planning. Whether that’s loose character arcs or plot threads etc, there’s always been a direction to follow. However, upon realizing even minimal planning sometimes was not working, I took a step back and just said it was totally okay for things to go “off course” (I like to think it’s being driven to a new course). I scrapped 50% of what the novel was supposed to be and let it occur as it was.

This is even relevant with how the book ended! The end came suddenly, and I’d had it written for a month without realizing it was the end! Plans are good, but not sticking to them is sometimes even better. This book turned into something completely different than intended, and I’m very happy about that! It allowed me to discover the story as I went, which is invaluable! I can’t stick to plans and you know: I dig it.

9. I’m a good writer

I impulsively want to put a question mark at the end of that, but you know, we are *confident* in this house *not really*.

This book made me really consider that maybe... just maybe... I’m a good writer. That doesn't mean I’m a perfect writer or never make mistakes--lol I make *many*, but I do think I really honed in on my craft through this book and wrote some good shit?? This book really solidified that I know I can write--not perfectly, but writing, nonetheless. I hadn’t really considered myself a good writer until this book, but ye, I def think I’m at least half decent!

So that’s about it for this update! THANK YOU for following this journey, folks, I can’t believe it’s over (like really I’m in shock someone help lmao), but unfortunately the party aint over til its over cuz I’m dragging you with me as I write the next book in this never ending series someone take the PEN out of my HAND. Your support has been so valuable to me! See y’all in the next book what mess will I get myself into next, oh god !!

--Rachel

#writing #amwriting #writerblr #writeblr #fostered #writingupdates

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