#((ive been waiting since Forever please put me out of my misery))

[wain-fleets]

missing neteyam

bawling my eyes out.

ive been having this recurring thought/thoughts of neteyam in the afterlife.

and how he says he wants to go home as he's dying.

for some reason my brain decided to come up with the saddest shit:

jake tells neteyam theyre going home as he's dying.

so when neteyam gets to the other side and he's all alone, hes confused; where's dad? where's everyone at? i thought they were coming with me.

it's not home without his family, so he wants to get back to them. but he cant, and he's stuck in the jungle all alone-- i imagine this world is just neteyam's. he's the only one there, free to do whatever he pleases. hunt all he wants, resources are abundant and the fruit is sweet. its perfect, but he's all alone. and he doesn't want to be alone. he wants his parents, his brother, sisters, spider. so his heaven turns out to be his hell.

since all is good in this sanctuary of his, there's no threats, no quaritch, he'd try to find his family and bring them back to it. so they can all live together happily again. tuk can play as freely as she wants. jake and neytiri dont have to worry anymore. kiri can admire all the fauna up close, have herself a ball. and he can finally spend all the time he wants with his baby brother.

so he tries to go looking for them, but of course he cant find them. so he sits, and he waits.

he waits for kiri, spider, and tuk, eager to embrace them all again. to laugh with them, and play.

he waits for his dad, so they can go fishing together.

he waits for his mom, so she can fix his hair and he can listen to her sing.

and he waits for lo'ak to round that corner so he can tell him it's not his fault.

he doesnt know how long he has to wait. he dreams of his family at night, and watches and waits during the day.

sometimes time moves fast.

other times its unbearably slow. and the loneliness sets in.

but he'll keep sitting. and he'll keep waiting.

until someone steps out. he waits for them.

UHM ?? please put me out of my misery

not to mention, when lo'ak joins neteyam, lo'ak will (hopefully) be all grown up. meanwhile, neteyam remains a teen. his little sister is bigger than him now. and so is kiri. everyone kept going, while he was stuck. his parents are grandparents, and hes an uncle without even knowing it. his nephews and nieces would be older than him. lo'ak grows and becomes a father, and neteyam is forever stuck as he was when he died. he never got the chance to experience that kind of love, and he'd never have his own kids.

??????

help me i cant

[srafseeker]

bbc   cast   mary   challenge  

[penaltbox]

here’s a short 1.5k lol

You’re sitting in your room, finishing up some homework when your phone lights up on your desk. You take a glance and figure you’d respond in a second. But when you see the name ‘Ryder Donovan’ you smile and grab your phone. You’re not sure what he could be asking you about, because you didn’t have homework for your shared class this week, but your interest is always piqued when it comes to Ryder. ‘what are you doing rn? and have you eaten?’ You’re not sure where he’s going with that so you answer with a ‘why?’ The response comes in quick. ‘please just answer the question’ You laugh to yourself, because you can hear Ryder saying it in his silly voice that he uses when you’re talking before class starts and you tell him you’re having a rough day. You respond, telling him you’re just going homework and haven’t eaten yet. Your phone dings with a new message. ‘want to get dinner? ive been shunned from my place and i dont want to be here anymore’ You try to keep your cool, but it’s really hard when Ryder Donovan, the cute boy you sit next to in class that you totally have a crush on, asks you to get dinner. Sure it’s a casual thing, he just needs to get out of his room, but that doesnt make your smile falter or your heart beat any slower. Deciding to play it cool you respond with ‘hm maybe i can put you out of your misery, depends on where you want to go’ ‘anywhere you want’ You smile at that when another message comes through ‘meet you at yours? we can walk together?’ You agree, willing to have some company while you walk, especially when it’s Ryder’s. You’re waiting for a text, telling you he’s here so you’re surprised when there’s a knock on your door. You have to stop yourself from taking a sharp intake of breath when you see Ryder on the other side. His hair isn’t styled, clearly just dried from a shower and you think he should wear it like that more often. “Hey.” It’s Ryder that starts the conversation, beaming down at you. “Hey, sorry. i just wasn’t expecting you to come up,” you laugh. He scoffs, “I have manners, you know. My mom raised me well.” “I don’t doubt it,” you respond as you reach out and pat his chest. You’re not sure where the confidence came from, but you decide to move on quickly. “So, dinner. I was thinking Brunch Club?“ “Perfect.” You head out in silence and you’re not sure what to say to break it. It feels weird seeing him out of class and not having that as a crutch for conversation. You know you’re overthinking it and, apparently, Ryder notices it too. “What’s going on in that pretty little head. I can hear the gears turning.” You blush at that and he nudges you lightly with his shoulder before continuing, “seriously, you okay?” “Yeah. Yeah, sorry. Just debating food choices.” He nods at that, seemingly unconvinced but he lets it slide. When you’ve stopped, waiting to cross the street, Ryder glances towards you and gives you a smile full of mischief, and you know you’re a total goner. “You’re short,” he starts. “Perfect height for me to do this,” he says while throwing his arm on your shoulder, using it as an arm rest. You fake gasp, feigning offense, “I’m not short. You’re just...tall.” At that, Ryder throws his head back and laughs and you feel accomplished. You’ve made it to Brunch Club and he grabs the door, ushering you to go first. You smile, thanking him. “You’re welcome, shorty.” You can’t help the way your heart flutters and you try to give him a glare but the smile on your face makes it ineffective. “Look,” he says, “even your hands are small.” To prove his point, he grabs your wrist and brings one of your hands up to his. You feel yourself flush and your heart is pounding at the touch and you will it to go down. “No, they’re normal. You’re just giant,” you laugh as you say it, unable to finish your sentence. You giggle to yourself, “a big friendly giant.” It has ryder rolling his eyes but he laughs nonetheless. “Ok, pipsqueak, let’s eat.” You let him win this round as you order your food. You guys take forever to eat and it’s because you can’t stop laughing. You’ve both shared stories and opened up. Now, Ryder is trying to tell you this embarrassing story about Shay and he can’t finish it because he’s laughing so hard. His laugh makes you laugh, and the fact that you’re laughing only makes him laugh harder. You know other people are looking over at you two, but you can’t find it in yourself to care. You’re having too much. Eventually, you both calm down and start finishing your food. You steal a breakfast potato off of Ryder’s plate, giving him a smug smile, your eyes shining. “Hey, you have your own food,” he complains, but he’s giving you a charming grin and you know he’s not actually mad. You wrinkle your nose at him in response, making him chuckle. “Yours looked good,” you shrug. “It’s because there’s a great model behind the plate,” he says. “Oh really, where?” “You’re looking at him. or maybe you’re blinded by my good looks?” “Definitely not,” you scoff. You guys finish up and Ryder pays. He doesn’t even let you argue, saying he was the one who asked you to come. “It’s the least I could do, since you saved me from my misery.” “Glad I could be your knight in shining armor, Ryds.” “I do make a cute damsel in distress,” he says, a teasing tone to his voice. “Yeah, you do.” At that, he blushes and scratches the back of his neck, changing the subject. He walks you home and you don’t really want your time with him to be over. glancing at the time, you decide to invite him in. “You know, just in case. So you’re not walking into anything.” He gives you a smirk and you think he’s going to call you out on the reasoning, but you’re thankful that he doesn’t. Instead, he accepts the invite and it’s how you find yourself in your current position, on opposite ends of the couch watching Chopped. You guys took your guesses as to who’s winning and you laugh as Ryder’s choice is out on the first round. He looks at you, a small pout on his face and it’s so cute you feel your heart skip. “Better luck next time, bub.” The pet name makes him blush although he tries to hide it. To distract from it, he grabs your hand and pulls you closer, squeezing your sides to make you laugh. “I bet your choice is out next round,” he teases. He keeps his arm around you then, and you don’t make any attempt to move away. As the episode continues—and your choice makes it through the final—you find yourself further cuddled into Ryder’s side. ‘smooth play, Donovan,’ you think to yourself. After another few episodes, you’re fully leaning into him, head on his shoulder, almost asleep. The episode you’re on is almost over and when it is, you feel Ryder shift. “Come on, pretty girl. Time for you to get some rest.” You’re too tired to react to the nickname and just mumble incoherently. You walk him out and he doesn’t leave without a goodbye hug. “I had a lot of fun today, we should hang out more,” Ryder says, arms still holding you in the hug. “I had fun too Ryder. Thank you for dinner,” you say as you finally let go. “Text me when you’re home safe,” you call after him and he assures you that he will. Ryder makes his way home and he texts you that he’s made it as he opens his front door. Upon walking in, he glances up and sees a few of the guys sitting on the couch. “There he is,” Shay announces. “What’ve you been up to, Ryder?” “Had dinner with a friend.” “Dinner...at midnight.” Shay’s tone is accusatory, feeling like he caught his brother in a lie. Ryder simply rolls his eyes. “Well we had dinner, then we just hung out.” The other guys are willing to leave it at that, but Shay knows his little brother better than that. He can see the brightness in Ryder’s eyes and can practically feel the happiness radiating off him. “Who’s this friend?” “Didn’t know I was coming home to an interrogation, mom.” From the couch, Mike snickers at Ryder’s response, but Shay knows it’s a deflection. As Ryder turns to go to his room, he hears Shay’s teasing voice, “Ryder was with a girl,” he sings. There’s a chorus of ooh’s as Ryder’s face flushes and he flips his brother off before he finally walks to his room. He wants to be annoyed at his brother, but when he opens his phone to a text from you saying ‘glad you made it home, big friendly giant’ he can’t help the goofy grin that forms instead.

[restlessmaknae]

Heartbreak Hotel; Wonpil

Take an aspiring song writer, a rebellious high schooler, a sassy English teacher, a passionate painter and an adventurous tour guide. What’s the same in all of them? They’ve all just had their heart broken.

Heartbreak Hotel is a DAY6 angst one-shot collection with 5 members & 5 songs & 5 stories.

Sungjin | Dowoon | Young K | Wonpil | Jae

IV. Wonpil + Colours

Painter!Wonpil x OC’s story in 2288 words. Angst & drama. Triggers: depression. Colours is a beautiful and heart-wrenching song and it deserves more recognition.

Living was pitch-black for me.

Every day was the same; every day was like a repetition, a never-ending cycle. Every day was of that unfathomable and hollow darkness. It wrapped its blanket around me yet I couldn’t see it, nor could I touch it. Nonetheless, it was all I could feel and that feeling was anything but comfortable. Instead of starry nights, I only looked at starless skies. Instead of giggling kids, I only heard cries of babies. Instead of the beautiful pureness of the freshly fallen snow, I only saw the bare trees without all their colourful leaves. Instead of the winter tranquillity, I could only feel its loneliness.

My paintings were all the same. They portrayed different symbols, different seasons and different scenarios yet all of them represented that tremendous darkness that I knew of. I couldn’t bring myself to use any other colour, except pitch-black. The colour of my heart.

 Seeing you for the first time was mahogany-red.

It was still close to black but it was more of that colour that you could see at the break of dawn when it wasn’t night but it wasn’t even day yet. You sat down at that old bench in front of my house, the one that I stared at when I looked for inspiration. Considering that it was always abandoned and I haven’t seen anyone using it since I had been living there, I was quite taken aback when you appeared. You wore an elegant buttermilk-like coat with Persian-blue jeans and pecan-brown boots. You were a striking painting amidst the dull city centre, stealing everyone’s attention who passed by, including mine.

The painting that I had been working on for hours suddenly seemed so neutral compared to your colourful appearance. The sudden idea of adding more shades crossed my mind but I shrugged it off. I liked the dark misery on the canvas, it was my life after all. It showed the deepest parts of my soul, the one that I wanted to hide yet it wanted so hard to be seen.

 Meeting you for the first time was raisin-like.

I didn’t even know when was the last time that I stepped out of my house before I stormed out of my room to help you get up from the ground. While I was working on a new painting, I saw from the corner of my eyes that someone tried to approach the bench in front of my house. No one wanted to sit down there, except you. Yet, I also noticed that you were reluctant to sit down and it finally dawned on me that you were afraid because the road was slippery and as you were reaching the end of the bench, you suddenly slipped and fell down.

No one was there to help you, everyone was busy in their own greyish worlds, living their own black and white lives, minding their own business. Something in my guts motioned me to assist you because who would if I didn’t? I couldn’t even be bothered to put on a jacket when I went outside – for the first time since God knows how long. It felt like forever.

It must have been one of the most peculiar sights; a man coming out of the house in black sweatpants, black house shoes and a black knitted jumper to help a young lady to get up from the ground. There was a time when I cared about things like reputation but that time was long forgotten, so I couldn’t care less, neither could you.

 Holding your hand was crimson-red.

It was alarming yet reassuring at the same time. It was only an innocent brush, you holding onto my hand while I helped you to regain your composure but it lit up a fire inside of me. It wasn’t a life-threating flame, it was more like one that was about to grow stronger and stronger.

You looked at me with your carob eyes, a colour that I had long forgotten existed. I’ve never seen such eyes or I was merely too blind to notice that particular shade before. I wasn’t always this insensitive to the colours of the world but the loss of my brother painted my skies all black and you were the first who seemed to change the scenery.

“Thank you so much,” you directed a genuine smile at me, one that was like watching the sunrise above the rooftops. “I’m so clumsy these days, so thank you for being there for me!” you chatted beamingly, the radiant smile never leaving your face.

I wondered how strangers looked at our scene, how could they see us – the definition of darkness and  the epitome of all the colours in the world. Because that’s what we were; two sides of the same coin, the opposites of a magnet and the two poles.

I couldn’t muster a single word, my mouth was dry and it had been so long since I talked to someone, it was a challenge – similar to riding a bike after years of not sitting on it.

“Oh my gosh, you must be freezing!” your eyes widened in fear as you caught sight of my light clothing. You didn’t know that the cold could never bother me anymore. I was freezing no matter the temperature, the weather or the season. My heart was kept in ice and you were the first who started melting it, even without making an attempt to do so. “Please, hurry back into your house before you catch a cold! I’m so sorry, you shouldn’t have come out in such clothes,” you pointed at my knitted jumper which must have been convenient during autumn but not during winter.

“You shouldn’t be sorry. It was my choice,” I heard the words coming from my mouth, sounding raspy and brittle.

Unbeknownst to you, my words hid the most dreadful parts of my life. I had been living like I wasn’t the one in control and I wasn’t the one who made choices because life chose instead of me. I merely got my cards but after that, I had no choice but to play with them. I didn’t deserve a say in the rules. I was standing in the desert, waiting for the hurricane to come and spin me around until there was nothing left of me. Yet, you came and the hurricane suddenly stopped coming closer. The disaster was still far away.

The painting that I started that day was a mess. I wanted to experiment with crimson but the outcome turned out to be pretty disturbing. I couldn’t bear the sight, the sudden change was odd, even for me. I tore the painting apart as soon as I saw the result.

 Talking with you was navy-blue.

You showed up at my door the day after and brought a cup of latte macchiato as a thank you gift. I was never more dumbfounded my whole life. I assumed that my mother would be the one who shows up because she wants to barge in and reprimand me for not moving out for months, filling my empty fridge with food, so I was more than surprised to see you there.

“Hey!” your face lit up like a candle on the Christmas tree as soon as I opened the door, still in the same clothes that I wore the day before. “Sorry for disturbing you but I saw yesterday that you came back here and I wanted to thank you for helping me, so I brought you something!” you handed me the cup which was as hot as the fire that you lit up in my heart.

“Ah, you shouldn’t have,” I let out a weary sigh, staring at the cup in my hands. I couldn’t care about the hot content since I was still as cold as ice. Yet, deep inside the ice slowly started melting away and I couldn’t help but let it melt away. After all, no one can control their hearts, can they?

“You deserve it,” you shrugged as a loving smile was forming on your lips. “I know it sounds crazy but would you like to drink something together? I know it’s totally out of the blue but you seem like you would need some company,” you admitted a bit coyly, looking down at your intertwined fingers. If anyone else had told me the same, I would have left on the spot after snorting at them because they exactly knew what I had been through.

However, it was different with you. It was always different with you.

So I stayed silent and stood still like a stone. Not until you started babbling about nonsense again, did I actually give in. I had no idea what I was doing but the words had already left my mouth when I realised what was ahead of me.

As soon as you left and I went back to my paintings, my current canvas seemed so dull and boring. I gave some colour to it and my heart suddenly skipped a beat.

It was beautiful; that kind of new sensation that you get when you experience something for the first time. Seeing blue on my canvas after a long time was just like that. And maybe I was actually experiencing something else for the first time.

 Getting to know you was sandstone-orange.

The thought that I was meeting you somehow forced me to get back on track. Even though I couldn’t bring myself to have a haircut, I still shaved, washed my hair and even wore decent clothes to our first café rendezvous. I opted for a sky blue shirt with an obsidian-black coat, coal-black jeans and midnight-blue boots, not caring much about fashion but you still complimented me. You stated that you liked my baby blue shirt and that’s how we started arguing about colours and that’s how you got to know that I was a painter. At least, I used to be. After my brother’s death, I wasn’t able to finish any of my paintings. I lacked inspiration as much as I lacked life.

We started getting to know each other and the more we met, the less nervous I felt. I had to admit that I was very reluctant at first but the angelic smile on your face always set me at ease. You didn’t force me to do anything, you didn’t broach up sensitive topics, you were as patient as ever. You let me open up like a blossoming flower and eventually I started trusting you. And with trust comes care and with care comes love and with love comes pain.

You showed me all the colours of the world. You made me realise how blind I was and how many times I passed by state-of-the-art places, missed vulnerable moments and forgot to see the beauty in everything. You were an art enthusiast, so you dragged me from one exhibition to another, one park to another and one bench to another.

I started to see the real colours of the morning sunrise, hear the cheerful screaming at the playgrounds and feel the warmth of spring. You didn’t do anything extraordinary, except staying beside me and showing me the world. You didn’t blame me for my brother’s death – unlike all my relatives and friends −, therefore you didn’t abandon me.

My house was cleaned weekly, my fridge was always full and my paintings were livelier than ever. I used all the colours you showed me and the inspiration hit me so many times that I began to wake up in the middle of the night, feeling completely restless and finished a painting within mere hours.

I felt like I found myself again and I set myself free from all that self-hatred and guilt that accompanied since that accident with my brother – when I was driving my brother home from work and a drunk driver crashed into our car. My brother and the driver died and I was the only one who survived.

Thanks to you, I was finally living again, living with all the colours.

 Losing you was grey like ash.

As I’ve said, we were two sides of the same coin. However, the distance between us was growing too wide. You didn’t understand why I wouldn’t like to get myself a decent job or at least sell my paintings and I didn’t understand why you were still beside me when you were promoted and you had an opportunity to move to Incheon. The arguments were more and more intense and we just didn’t seem to come to a halt. We always found another reason to fight, even though we hadn’t even confessed anything. I started to get depressed again and you didn’t notice the symptoms – because I never told you −, so you assumed that I pushed you away on purpose.

I had no choice. You were too special to this world and I was lucky to see all the colours once again but you didn’t deserve to be chained to me all your life. You said that you wouldn’t like me to become that wreck that I used to be but that’s exactly where we were heading to. I had to push you away and ask you to go and move to Incheon because you deserved it.

I wasn’t honest at all, I told you silly fibs and I knew that you knew that I was making them up but I couldn’t help. I wanted you to be happy and if that meant that you weren’t beside me, I had to let you go.

So I did and with you, all my colourful paintings vanished again.

 Living was pitch-black for me. Again.

[mollysgame]

“Imagine: Archie Andrews has been in love with you forever but a certain fate has kept you apart for far too long.”

Inspired by Buzzcut Season by Lorde

warnings: how do you feel about crying...? also, m/ of intrusive thoughts, hospitals and other medical things... anyways this is just sad

[i do not own the gif above!]

                                ▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

Archie Andrews had never expected he’d become the beck and call type of man for a woman he loved. Especially not by nineteen-- an age he expected to use as an experimental period with an abundance of women. It wasn’t that he had no respect for the men who fell at the feet of women they adored, he just hadn’t wanted that for himself.

And yet there he was, his firm hands gripping a small basket already half full of things that he was assuming you’d want. It was 10pm and he couldn’t stop believing that everything would be okay if he just picked the perfect things. He’d been grabbing everything from chocolate to those pull apart twizzlers you ate religiously. His fingers instinctively reached out and touched a bag of chili heat Doritos. A memory of him choking on the heat and spitting water on your lap flashed through his thoughts. He laughed and decided to leave the chips alone.

He went to the freezer in the corner of the store and tried to pick out the right ice-cream. They had the Ben and Jerry’s you liked and even though he didn’t have that much money left, he decided to grab it anyways. He could spare eight more dollars for you. He would give anything for you to just...

A head of cognac coloured hair shook almost violently, desperate to avoid thinking too much. Intrusive thoughts attacked him almost daily now, forcing him to feel trapped, almost tied to a bed and unable to breathe on his own. That only led to feeling more and more apart from you. All he wanted to do was be the person you needed, to save you.

But he didn’t know how yet.

Archie walked up to the counter and dropped the armful of confections and junk on the counter. Jughead Jones had been hired by the corner store for nights after they shut down Twilight years ago. He was still saving up enough to finally go to college. His grey eyes settled on Archie for a long moment and then he began to check out the items.

“Is this going to be a weekly forever?” The words sounded spiteful but Archie knew that his friend was just lonely. While Betty had been more sympathetic, Archie knew the flaxen haired girl missed him too.

He was desperate to repair the relationships with his closest friends but he didn’t have the time to care for himself anymore. Everything was pointless while he couldn’t repair things with you.

“Until she is able to forgive me. I can’t stop Jughead, it’s like she owns my thoughts. I don’t know what to do anymore.”

Jughead nodded like he understood and handed Archie the bag of goods, waving his hand with Archie tried to pay. It was his way of saying ‘I’ll never feel like this for a girl but I’m sorry you do.’.

Archie’s hand grasped the handle of the door and then let go, his body swivelling around to face his friend again. “Hey Jug, do you remember our first year of high school when Y/N told everyone that I was allergic to flowers?”

Jughead rolled his eyes before slowly nodding. “Reggie made your locker look like a shrine the next day. And then you gave out every single flower and got the numbers of twenty girls.”

“I didn’t save a single one, just so you know. I just told you guys that I was texting them all so no one would know.”

Except that in all four years since that week of freshman year, Jughead, Betty and even Veronica had figured it out. In fact, Cheryl Blossom had vague posted about it on Twitter once. Nobody in Riverdale could have missed that Archie Andrews was in love with you.

“Archie, do you ever just wonder what would have happened if you just had of told her?”

Of course he had. Archie had dreamed of it so many times that it was almost as clear as a memory. Every lucid dream of you, recurring more recently, was exactly the same. 

It would begin with you lying against the headboard of his bed, nestled in the crook of his arm and humming one of his songs. The room would start out so bright, keeping him from being about to see anything. He could feel your hair against his chin and his heart would feel so tight when you laughed at absolutely nothing. Then it would slowly change, everything would go dark around the two of you and suddenly you would be swallowed by shadows. 

Finally he would be able to see you, his eyes looking down at you with his arm around your shoulder. He would see every detail of you so perfectly that he would get lost for a moment, forget his objective. Because everything about you was mesmerizing, even the way the tips of your eyelashes curled up and never completely touched your skin. 

And then it would hit him full force, like a train barreling through the centre of his body. He’d stop breathing, not feeling anything but numb in every part of his body but his heart. And you wouldn’t ever look up, you wouldn’t notice the way his face had contorted into the expression of pure, honest pain. You wouldn’t even question why tears were hitting the top of your head. 

“I need to tell you before it’s too late,” he’d say with a lump in his throat so large he just couldn’t catch his breath. 

“Mhmm,” you’d mumble with no words attached because Archie wouldn’t be able to recall what your voice sounded like in that moment.

“I know you’re my friend, I know that you’re always going to be my friend. But I need to tell you before you’re taken away from me. I need to tell you how sorry I am and that I swear I lov--”

And it would always stop right there, the blinding light back to carry him away from you. And Archie Andrews would wake up without you once again.

 ▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

The building loomed over him like the shadows from his dream. He figured maybe that’s why the shadows were always what brought you to him once he fell asleep. It had started raining, his messy hair soaked and matted against his forehead. He was cold and yet burning inside, a combination possibly lethal. 

No one minded him as he cut through the lobby and past the closed gift shop. He noticed a few people asleep in the chairs who had more to worry about than a shivering ginger boy with a bag of snacks. He was on a mission though and when he was finally noticed, it was a by a blue clothed woman who sighed at the sight of him. 

“I told you last Friday that that was the last time, Andrews.” 

Archie sucked in his cheeks slightly and tried not to show the misery he was feeling. It was if the building has sucked out every bit of hope he had before he’d walked in. But the pulsing in his chest wasn’t just from his heartbeat, it was something deeper than that. It was pulling him to you so strongly that he felt almost tethered to your body. 

“I promise that this is the last time. Please just let me see Y/N. I’m sorry it’s so late.” 

The woman shook her head and sighed more deeply than the last time, possibly more deeply than all of the times before that. She ached for the poor boy more than she did for your family sometimes.

“It’s never going to be the ‘last time’, is it?” 

Archie’s gaze flickered to the chipped, beige floors and then to the familiar number on your door. 

“She’s alone every night. It’s the weekend, I just want to give her one night a week to have someone.” 

What he didn’t add was that he didn’t want to break tradition. How could he explain that Friday was your day, as it always had been. Buying too much sugary foods and lounging on his bed while watching Disney movies every week was something he could never forget. 

“Fine. But next week you’re going to have to have a better excuse so I don’t get in trouble for this anymore.”

Archie nodded and the woman led him to the room, opening the door for him and glancing at the peaceful girl on the bed. Your bangs had grown ridiculously long, almost like a sheep dogs but your family had been waiting. Waiting for you to ask for it to be cut yourself perhaps. There were IVs in your arm and a monitor tracked the steady beat of your heart while you stayed perfectly still. 

“Tell me one thing, Andrews. When this girl wakes up one night while you’re getting crumbs on her blankets, are you going to make up some excuse as to why you’re here? Or are you going to admit that you’ve been coming here every week for the past eleven months?” 

Archie stared at the nurse and then turned back to you, trying to imagine what it would feel like to see you just sit up. He said nothing, not knowing how to answer without regretting his words. He knew that he’d tell you how he felt, how much he missed you. But he didn’t know how without sounded absolutely crazy. 

He pulled the chair in the corner to be against your bed and pulled his laptop out of his backpack, setting it up by your legs. It was Sleeping Beauty week, and in true sadistic fashion Archie didn’t bother skipping it. He didn’t mind anyways, it wasn’t really about watching the movies. It was about warming your fingers with his hand holding them tight and having one sided arguments on what villains were the worst. 

He could never fully stomach it but he’d get through most of the ice cream and even the twizzlers after poking you with them for half an hour. He swore your nose would twitch after he’d done it enough. Usually he’d fall asleep with your hand still in his and his head resting on the bed beside your arm. And the nurses never bothered him because they only dreamt of having someone love them as much as he loved you. 

So he’d stay there until 7am before accepting a protein bar from the doctor that checked on you in the mornings. Then he’d be off, ready to go back home and face his father who may or may not have resorted to praying that you’d just wake up. For the sake of his son at least, because if there was anything that Fred was sure of it was that your accident had put a piece of Archie in a coma with you. 

And the accident wasn’t Archie’s fault, because a seventeen year old boy could not merely control the weather. But the now nineteen year old with cognac coloured hair and reliably warm hands was waiting. Waiting for you to forgive him for not saving you some how. Waiting for you to remind him what his name sounded like on your lips. 

Waiting for you to say you loved him back. 

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A/N: this was supposed to be a short drabble where you woke up in the end... you can blame the Twilight movies soundtrack for this entire thing. also i love writing Archie, who would have guessed? send in requests if you want.