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noritoshiikamo · 4 years

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this is how you fall in love

pairing: kuroo tetsuroo + fem!oc genre: friends into lovers fluff with slight suggestive end tags//warning: nothing major // slight suggestive at the end if you squint enough note: the obligatory trio of mine: not well edited, lowercase intended, english isnt my first language im sorry if i murder it. o wow look ive been posting back to back, ive been writing nonstop lately watch me ghost my stories in few weeks guys my brain = rotting, plus lately ive been feeling emotionally abuseddrained so i need something fluffy

listen to this is how you fall in love by jeremy zucker + chelsea cutler for maximum feels

“you’re a lifesaver.”

kuroo huffed, eyes rolling back with a small laugh as he unlaced his sneakers and slipped the room slipper on. it was odd to see the gymnasium without any nets or balls sprawled around. the gym has been closed for a week now in preparation for the upcoming open school event and currently under the art club’s jurisdiction. under her jurisdiction with her canvases and paints and it pained him to see her ruining his sacred place. he carried two plastic bags and holding two boba teas in the same hand. he wasn’t sure which one she was more excited for; the boba, the paints she made him ran to an art supply shop or him. she reached out, the bobas in his hand exchanged as she settled it on the floor, and she squealed at the sight of the plastic bag. he frowned.

yup, not him.

tins of different colors of paint that she ran out mid painting that she forgot to buy had her dialing his number and now it’s all here. all thanks to kuroo tetsuro. she grimaced at the price tags; it was costly than her usual one. usually, she would’ve gotten her supplies online, but desperate measure calls for desperate solution. she could always claim her expenses with the club. typical kuroo, she huffed. he always preached about getting the best, not minding the price tags but she’ll be the victim of his nonstop complaining that he’s getting broke every single day. she tucked a stray hair back and mentally counted how much she owed the man as she arranged the tins on the table.

kuroo noticed that look; same look she had when they are in the math class and he clicked his tongue, “tch, you’re not paying.”

“i’m reimbursing you with the club money,” she shook her head and reached for her bag, “please kuroo, it’s so expensive.”

he reached for her wrist and she dropped the tote bag as he invaded her space. kuroo rested the palm of her hand right above his heart, his own around the waist and another under her chin as he tilted her chin up. his heartbeat was erratic, and she flushed. “it’s okay,” he said, softly. her lips formed into a small pout and he fought the urge to just kiss her.

their dynamic is something even kenma couldn’t figure it out.

they weren’t exactly dating. they are friends, close friends, and classmates. it has always been him, her and occasionally yaku; creating the chaotic duo/trio of class 5. they both played volleyballs, both captains while he’s the middle blocker, she’s their female team’s setter. they knew a lot of each other’s friends from other schools; he was the reason why she dated akaashi keiji from the first place. it was selfish of kuroo to admit to bokuto a month after they started dating that he disliked the idea of them together. typical kuroo is no longer snarky, he felt lost, felt like he was losing his other half. so, he confided to his close friend, the simpleton ace.

“you didn’t make any moves, kuroo, you can’t blame them.”

bokuto noted as them both stared at the two setters, playing around the fallen cherry blossoms. bokuto never seen akaashi smiled that much and kuroo could only wished that she smiled the same way to him. kuroo stared at the half bitten onigiri he’d been holding, suddenly every bite he took tasted bitter. every trace of akaashi on her gave him bitter taste. she liked wearing akaashi’s jersey; kuroo longed to see her in his own numbered jersey; she’s his number one after all. her own jersey number is as same as akaashi. it’s not like kuroo could hate anything he did; he treated her well. akaashi was a perfect boyfriend and everyone knew. that’s why kuroo hates him; he gave him no reason to hate the dude. it didn’t last long however, they drifted apart 6 months later, sending her to kuroo’s doorstep soaked in rain.

he stared at her soaked figure with no thoughts in mind.

“he dumped me,” she said, voice hoarse and shivering.

he was alone and was about to leave for kenma’s, but he couldn’t leave her alone. dropping his keys on the small table by the door, he threw his jacket back in the closet. “come in,” he whispered, pulling her figure in. dropping her bag on the floor, she clutched on his sleeves as she kicked off her soaking shoes. “i’m sorry, my mom isn’t home and i can’t find my keys,” she was a blabbering mess and he hushed her. he left her for a few minutes, coming back with a steaming towel and a clean shirt and pants. “it’s from the dryer. you can borrow my sister’s clothes,” grabbing her hands, they ran upstairs where he took her to the bathroom. she was too quiet, so he called her name. when she looked up to him, her eyes were red. she was no longer crying, more confused and upset. her cheeks flushed and he could see her teeth chattering. he wished nothing but to throw his fist at the man. finally, he got a reason to square up the stoic man; he always hates the way nothing could riled up akaashi.

“he’s stupid for doing you like this.”

she shook her head, “it’s nobody’s fault.”

“then stop blaming yourself,” he ruffled her hair, a small smile appeared from the corner of her lips as she watched him disappeared closing the door behind him. he left her with the hot water running, urgently grabbing the mop and bucket from the kitchen, and wiping the trail of her soaked feet has left before it could ruin the wooden floor.

cant come over, busy, ill tell u later

kuroo texted kenma. the pudding head left him on read.

they spend the night together, sitting on the floor with pillows pilling against the end of the bed as they sat in arms. he had his tv opened to one of the late-night game show. they sat in silence, her head rested on his shoulder and her lips pressed into a tiny line. at the corner of his eyes, he could see her phone’s notifications blaring despite being on mute. the number isn’t saved but it was familiar. she deleted his number already, probably out of rage, but it’s a good step.

tell me where you want me to drop your stuff im sorry i hope youre okay y/n? i heard it was storming did you make it back home? give me a call im calling you okay?

just as like what the message stated, the unknown number called her. it startled her which startled him too. she stared down on the screen, he noticed the grip on the phone and wondered how the phone did not break yet. “can you answer it for me?” she said, holding the phone out to the black-haired man. shocked, he took the phone and pressed the green button. he pressed the phone to his ear and heard her name being called.

“hey man,” kuroo cleared his throat, “listen-”

“she’s with you?” the voice- akaashi asked.

looking down on the girl who was pretending to not have any interest in the call at all, eyes focused on the gameshow, kuroo sighed.

“she is. listen, i think you should leave her alone.”

“kuroo, i know about your feelings. for her. bokuto-san told me about it. if you think that this is the proper way to get her when she’s vulne-”

kuroo bit the inside of his cheeks. he was offended that akaashi dared to call him out like that. “so, what? she made her pick,” the girl turned to face him, brows up wondering what they are talking about.

“that’s low, even for you, kuroo-san.”

their eyes met. he didn’t even realize how deep the cut on his palm where he had balled his fingers into a fist until she touched it. he calmed down. “you hurt her. you have no right to say what’s low or not. be a bigger man, leave her alone,” he muttered flatly, before ending the call. they didn’t break eye contact until he realized what he had done.

“i-i shouldn’t have done that.”

she shook her head, “stop blaming yourself,” a small smile on her face.

that was 3 months ago.

kuroo had made moving on easy for her. akaashi and her remained friendly, although kuroo noticed that she tended to avoid him when possible. the breakup was indeed mutual, but merely on the fact that he lost feelings. akaashi had fallen out of love with her and in love with some other girl but who was she to judge when she was falling in love with the rooster head in silence. they still hang out with bokuto and akaashi but rarely with the latter.

she made him apologized to the fukurodani’s setter too and they remained on friendly term, still practiced together whenever they have training camps together where akaashi had admitted one training night that kuroo and her looks better together. kuroo didn’t say anything, not that he knew what to reply to that (his mind scream fuck yeah we do) but shrugged at his statement. “i guess dating her made you less pain in the ass, kuroo-san,” akaashi joked as they resumed the game.

kuroo was pulled back to reality when he felt his lips brushed against something. his eyes widened when he realized what it was. a quick kiss from her. he blinked frantically, trying to comprehend what had just happened which caused the girl to laugh. “did you just?” he asked confused by what had just happened which she nodded. she bit her bottom lip to hold herself from bursting into a laugh. “god, you should see your face. it’s so stupid. and every girl called you the playboy captain huh?”

he huffed and rolled his eyes, “i am not. i’ve been loyal to one girl for many years now, she is the one who hasn’t notice me at all,” he faked his pout, refused to look her directly in the eyes, praying that she wouldn’t notice his reddening cheeks.

“she must’ve been so stupid,” she teased, her nose rubbing gently against his jawline as she rested her figure against his closer. his chin rested against her head.

“she is,” he looked down on her, his arms around her waist tighter, “i don’t think she knows this but if she leaves me, i think i’ll be so broken inside. is it selfish to say that?” a small frown appeared on her face.

“i don’t think she ever talked about leaving you.”

a grin grew on his face, “so you know who i’m talking about huh?” she fell into his trap. she rolled her eyes and stuck her tongue out, calling him stupid. he studied her face, his grin softened into what yaku and his volleyball team called the kuroo is stupidly in love with y/n but refused to admit face. his fingers ran into her hair which she had been growing out in few months down to her shoulder because she thinks that he likes her better that way. the way she tried to subtly put on make up to look better that the other girls who’s shamelessly flirting with him. she was too stupid to realize that he had loved her beyond that.

he loves the rough pads on her hands from holding her paintbrushes and volleyball. he loves that she works hard for everything she’s doing be it studying, volleyball or arts, she would put her blood, sweat and tears into it. he loves that she would wait for him to buy lunch so they can eat together in class. he would buy her a box of milk which she insisted that she doesn’t need too; but he convinced it would be good for her. he wants the best for her.

he loves that all the missing clothes he’s complaining about is in the back of her closet or on her. his cream hoodie hanging behind her closet door, his random pile of t-shirts in a basket on the floor of her closet that he liked to left beside the mix pile of her shoes and his one big ass nike shoes. her room isn’t messy, it is because she kept the messiness in her closet. she also like to keep random stuff of him too. the one medal he won from a science fair hung on the headboard of her bed, the misshapen looking hand wax sculpture of their hands intertwined from a funfair where she rested a purikura of them on it and a lucky bamboo plant he gave on her birthday to compromise on the no gift rule.

“for luck,” he grinned.

unlike hers, he kept her item neatly in his drawer. your spare shirts that he borrowed and refused to return, extra towel and her toiletries, some of her drawing blocks and a small cat shaped pouch where she kept her allergies medication. mostly hidden because his annoying friends come over often and would accidentally talk about it in front of his grandparents. but, on his bedside table, he has a cup of pencils by the bed where he collected the art supplies she left behind, random markers and paintbrushes, a clay sculpture of a trinket plate she made from art club (she carved a tiny letter k in the corner beside the obvious looking genitalia drawing) and a fake plant which she was sure he will not be able to kill it.

he loves it when she wore his jersey. he lost his mind when he found out that her current season number is the same as his. he’s in love. the first time he saw her in his jersey, the number one jersey on her body was during their training. he lost concentration; mouth hung a bit. he got so flustered that he let lev served the ball straight to his head. usually, lev would be dead by now, but he doesn’t mind. his nose bled but to see her kneel beside him, clutching on his own shirt screaming how stupid he is, wiping the blood away with towel, he could only say how pretty she looked. all his teammates were startled, her included. she clutched on his collar angrily; her knees stung from when she leaped down to his side, but this idiot could only smile at her with a bloody nose. “you are fucking idiot,” she cried out angrily, pushing him away before throwing the towel on his face leaving the pleased third year laying on the floor.

he loves the way she would find a way to impress him, be it as ridiculous as the halloween costume idea she had where they’ll go as the front and end of a horse or as serious as the submitted college application to the same university he had gotten into. “you are not getting rid of me that easily, tetsu,” the evil look on her face as she clicked the submit button send shivers down his spine.

“if you leave, i think i’ll cry,” he confessed, his smile slowly died.

“kuroo tetsuro is going to cry after me?” she teased. he nodded eagerly. “does kuroo tetsuro realized that we are literally moving into the same university? i couldn’t catch a break from him,” she faked her annoyance which he playfully avenged by sending her on the floor laughing as he tickled her. tears trickled down her cheeks as she begged him to stop, screaming to get away from his grip. “please, kuroo, i’m going to pee if you don’t stop!” he obliged, tears prickled the corner of his own eyes from laughing too much. straddling her waist, he gathered her wrists in one hand over her head. “apologize and said that kuroo tetsuro is the best man in your life or i swear i’ll make you pee,” he threatened her playfully, wiggling the fingers of his free hand close to her waist. her eyes widened in fears.

“that’s not fair!”

“apologize first.”

“fine!” she pouted, “i’m sorry, i won’t make fun of you again. now get off me!”

he raised his eyebrow, “andddd?”

“annddd-” a teasing smile appeared on her face as she said the next 5 words that send him to mars and back; “i love you kuroo tetsuro.”

he froze in shock. he heard the words before but never in this way; never for him.

finally, i think i got the calculation, love you yaku! lev you’re adorable but so stupid, i love it! thank you for letting me borrow your game, kenma. you’re the best, love ya!

the grip on her wrists loosened. taking advantage of his shock state, she pushed him back, straddling him by the waist, pinning his own hands above his head, giving him the taste of his own medicine. “i’m not going to leave your sorry ass, tetsu. i hope you don’t regret it,” she leaned down, capturing his lips with a longer kiss. letting go of his wrist, her hand went immediately into his rooster hair while another cupped his cheek, deepening their kiss. she could feel his cold palm resting against her bare waist and she shuddered. between the kisses, he heard her whispering his name. “kuroo, do you love me too?” she asked so innocently with kisses between the words but the way she grabbed a handful of his hand in a fist felt so dirty, eliciting a strangled moan from the back of his throat. she pulled back, staring down on his eyes as his lips moved.

“i love you too.”

nothing in his hazel eye but sincerity. he groaned when she pulled herself out of his reach, missing her warm body as she laughed. straightening her sweater back, pulling her hair back up into a tighter ponytail before she picked up the paintbrush she dropped. the paintbrush left a white stain on the court. as if kuroo wasn’t here, whimpering underneath her a minute ago, she continued her work. “i need to finish the mural by this week and you’re not exactly helping me,” she warned him, pointing the wet brush his direction. through the corner of her eyes, he was propped on his elbows, still staring at her, causing her to blush profusely. it annoyed him that she would tease him, then leaving him high and dry. before she could crack open the new paint tin, he ignored her warning as he tackled her back into his arms.

breathless against her lips, he told her to continue later. the urgency and rawness of his voice made her putty immediately. looking up the man, she pouted her lips.

“kuroo-san,” she whined as he captured her bottom lips.

he elicited a soft moan from the girl. he grinned against her lips. a hand rested firmly beside her head while another snaked under the sweater. there will be bruise tomorrow, she was sure of it, he will make sure of it.

“it will be quick, baby. i promise.”

she has no objection.

#kuroo tetsuro #kuroo tetsurou #kuroo tetsuro x reader #kuroo tetsuro imagine #haikyuu x reader #hq #haikyuu #kuroo x reader #kuroo tetsuro fluff #haikyuu x y/n #kuroo tetsurou x reader #writing: hq #writing: fics

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ottelis · 4 years

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"I gave you my life, Eliott," Lucas's voice shatters, splinters.

Eliott replies softly, broken, hollow, "And I gave you mine."

"No," Lucas says, low and dark. "No, you didn't."

aka: eliott and lucas grow up together, but are separated when eliott is institutionalized in paris after a severe depressive episode. they reunite two years later when eliott is released, but everything has already changed before their eyes.

epigraph. i. ii. iii. iv. v. vi. vii. viii. ix.

09—la vérité

august 11th, 1968

07:55

caen, france

Eliott sleeps much better the night after his appointment than he thought he would. Perhaps the exhaustion took over and freed him from his thoughts. He's grateful for that, but now that he's awake, he has to face Lucas again. He's not afraid of looking Lucas in the eye, or seeing all the expressions that could flicker across his face in half a moment. He's afraid of what Lucas might say, of the way his tongue may curl and slash in his mouth, or the way it could lie still and tie itself in a knot. But he can't let his fear show anymore, not when he knows Lucas is in pain, when he knows he can try to help his best friend.

He decides to talk to Lucas before mass, since he knows he'll be there most of the morning. He dresses for mass, too, putting on his white shirt and tying his black tie beneath the collar. He hasn't been to mass, let alone inside the church, since his father's funeral, and he supposes that now could be a good time to go.

His dress shoes are too small for him now, something he never would've anticipated. He borrows one of his father's pairs, and though they're a bit too big, they fit better than his own. They're old, but his father was buried in his nicer ones. It feels a bit strange, wearing his father's shoes, but he doesn't expect to be wearing them for very long. Just until after mass.

His mother is in the kitchen, preparing to make breakfast as he gets ready to leave. He apologizes to her quickly and tells her where he'll be, and that he'll meet her at mass. He gives her a kiss on the cheek and tells her he loves her.

He takes a deep breath as he opens the door, but it catches in his throat when he sees Lucas on the other side, his hand raised and ready to knock.

"Lucas, hey," he stammers. "Is everything okay?"

Lucas nods, bewildered, too. "Yeah. Yeah. Um, this might be an odd question," he begins awkwardly. "But I've kind of become the organist at our parish, and I have a key to the church. I like to get there early and practice some songs. It's just… It's lonely in there sometimes. The echo gets too much when you're alone. I was wondering if you wanted to come with me?"

Eliott blinks, fumbling for an answer. "Of course," he manages, smiling. "I've missed hearing you play anyway." He's not being untruthful, but his mind starts running even faster once the words leave his mouth. Maybe he can steal a moment to talk to Lucas. Maybe on the way there, or right before mass.

Lucas smiles, and his eyes brighten. "Thank you so much," he sighs. "It's honestly so eerie in there and it was about to drive me crazy."

"You're welcome," Eliott returns, smiling warmly. "Were you planning on leaving now?"

Lucas nods. "If that's okay."

"Okay," Eliott nods back. He calls over his shoulder, "See you in a bit, Maman."

"See you, honey," she calls back. "See you, Lucas."

"See you, Madame Demaury," Lucas responds as Eliott goes through the door.

Eliott shuts the door behind him, taking another deep breath. Now he has to wait for the right moment to talk to Lucas. And he has to hope it won't go poorly like he's worried it might. He has to trust Lucas.

They don't say a word as they walk to Lucas's car, but the silence is strangely comfortable, easy. Perhaps this should be the moment that Eliott grabs by the horns, but it's too precious for him to ruin. He's too enamoured by the sound of their soft footfalls on the grass, the slightest whisper of a breeze in the air. It's going to be a beautiful day.

"It is," Lucas says suddenly, startling Eliott. He must've said his thought aloud without realizing. "Most Sundays are. The whole world is at peace on Sundays."

"Remember when we would build sandcastles almost every Sunday?" Eliott asks quietly, still afraid that speaking too loudly would ruin the moment.

"Because the sea was calmer," Lucas chuckles lightly. "I just can't believe we basically built the same sandcastle every week. How did we not get bored of it more quickly? We did that until we were almost ten."

"Maybe after mass we can build a sandcastle," Eliott suggests. "I think it'd be nice to come back to that."

"I like that idea," Lucas smiles warmly, letting his head tilt slightly down.

They reach Lucas's car, piling in quickly. Lucas keeps the radio off again, but Eliott's parents never played music on the way to mass, either. Eliott doesn't mind the silence here, either. He thinks they've carried the silence from outside with them.

The sun has risen considerably by now, but it still casts a soft, faint light on the city, coaxing it awake. It's kind today, loving. Fatherly, almost. It flows gently through the windows of Lucas's car, bathing them in a thin but warm layer of light. Eliott lifts his hand ever so slightly, letting it swim through the light. It's like water. He wiggles and curls his fingers, holds his palm face up to illuminate the lines there.

"What are you doing?" Lucas asks with a chuckle.

"With my hand?" Eliott laughs, too. "Swimming."

Lucas smiles, glancing at Eliott's hand. His eyes follow the smooth, graceful movement of it until the car starts to swerve slightly. He quickly looks back up to the road, but the smile lingers on his face, small and content.

Eliott hopes that that smile means Lucas is doing better, that he won't have to ask him what's wrong. But Lucas was always good at hiding things, he's had so much practice with it anyway. Eliott keeps finding himself hoping and hoping.

The parking lot is empty, and it's a strange sight for Eliott. He's so used to hearing his father complain about how there weren't any parking spots left when they arrived for mass, he never thought it could be so barren. He could see what Lucas means when he says it can be eerie seeing the church deserted. He could only imagine what it's like in the chapel.

They don't talk in the brief time it takes to get out of Lucas's car and to enter the church. Lucas still seems at ease, though, a stark contrast to his behavior at the cemetery last week. Eliott takes it as a good sign.

The lock unclicks with a creaky thud, and the door squeaks faintly as it opens. Lucas lets Eliott walk in first, making sure to lock the door behind them.

Eliott pauses just past the threshold, gazing at the chapel. It's still exactly as he remembers it—the stone floors gray as ash, the pale columns, the smooth arches, the statues with faces as familiar to him as someone he's known in real life. All the old paintings are still on the walls, all the elaborate stained glass is still intact and shining, all the same chairs are sitting in front of the altar like sentinels. He can still smell all the burning wax, the incense, wet stone. But there's something different, something in the air he doesn't recognize. Maybe he really has been away for too long and forgotten it was ever there. But it's heavy, leaves something crawling just beneath Eliott's skin. Maybe it's the ghost of memory—the ghost of a boy who prayed to God to make his papa feel better and not get sick anymore, the ghost of his father, the ghost of the flowers and incense that clouded and covered his coffin, the ghost of hymns played and sung through bitter tears.

"Spooky, isn't it?" Lucas teases, nudging Eliott's arm.

Eliott nods, gulping. "I can see why you don't wanna be alone in here," he agrees, his voice thin.

Lucas chuckles lightly. "It's not as bad once I'm sitting at the organ. Then all of it's behind me."

"But you said the echo gets to you, too, right?" Eliott asks.

Lucas nods, sighing. "I think you hearing it, too, will help. It won't be as lonely. It'll feel real for once. Not just some cruel trick of my imagination."

Eliott nods back, imagining the shrill yet regal notes of an organ filling such a cavernous, empty room. No voices to accompany it, no other instruments to help it swell and wane into sacred, gorgeous music. The thought sends a chill down his spine.

"Tu viens?" Lucas asks softly, tilting his head towards the direction of the organ. His hand brushes against Eliott's, his touch another ghost in these hallowed halls.

Eliott nods weakly, and Lucas smiles kindly. He leads Eliott to a corner of the building that he doesn't quite remember being there before, where a stone staircase lies in front of them. He can see the organ at the top, sitting below one of the large stained glass windows. He follows Lucas up the stairs, their footfalls only a quiet shuffling in the silence of the chapel.

"Do you want to sit next to me?" Lucas asks as if he takes his place at the seat in front of the organ. It's wide enough to fit both of them. And Lucas is looking at him with a warmth that he could never deny.

"Yeah," Eliott smiles, sitting next to him. He can't help but look up at the stained glass window above them. It's so simple—just a mosaic of diamonds dyed with gold and silver and oceans and clouds and jewels—but the way the light filters through it is enchanting, even in the half-light they're in right now. The sun hasn't risen high enough yet to shatter through it completely. Eliott can only imagine how beautiful it must be, then. He wishes he had paid more attention to this window before.

"This is my favorite thing in the whole church," Lucas says, his eyes gazing up at the window, too.

"It's beautiful," Eliott replies, reverent.

"Selfishly," Lucas begins, shrugging, his brow furrowed. "I feel like it's mine, in a way."

"I don't think that's selfish," Eliott shakes his head.

Lucas smiles, looking down at the organ keys. His smile fades, but quiet thought takes its place. His hands hover over the keys for a moment, his fingers taking shape after shape of a thousand chords before settling on one. Lucas begins playing gently, slowly growing louder as the prelude progresses. Eliott instantly recognizes Ubi Caritas, and he lets himself smile.

The organ was never Eliott's favorite instrument, despite hearing it his whole life. It was so easy to play too loudly, too dully. But in Lucas's hands, the organ is as elegant and stately and warm as it possibly could be. Lucas takes the love Ubi Caritas speaks of and lets it pour from his fingers and into the keys. Lucas could take any instrument and turn it to gold with the slightest touch, after leaving the faintest scar of a fingerprint on it. The echo of the music rings sweetly from the cold, aged stone, and Eliott can't imagine it sounding eerie or lonely.

Eliott looks at Lucas, and for the first time today, he seems tense, anxious. His shoulders are tight, his back is hunched, his hands are shaking, his lower lip is caught beneath his teeth. But he doesn't let it betray his playing. The music still flows out of him so easily, so beautifully.

But at the same time, Eliott has never seen Lucas like this while he's playing. He's been nervous before, of course, but it usually melts away once his fingers find their place on the keys. He's never started relieved and confident then grew nervous and stiff.

Eliott feels the easy, comfortable dynamic between them start to break. His mind starts to reel, and his heart begins to stutter, all for Lucas.

The hymn is over quickly, though, and Lucas releases a deep yet trembling breath. He stretches his hands, curling his fingers over and over. He's studying them as if they were someone else's hands, as if they don't belong to him.

"Does the echo bother you that much, Lucas?" Eliott asks softly, grasping at straws.

Lucas shrugs fraily, hiding his hands between his thighs. His eyes flit across every visible thing around him except for Eliott.

Eliott feels helpless, watching Lucas retreat into himself again. He shakes his head, maybe to help his brain rattle out a way to help Lucas.

"What if I played?" he tries, shrugging. "I know I don't how to play, but that's the trick. Maybe if I play a hymn off-key it won't make it quite as eerie in here."

Lucas smiles weakly, considering.

"Would that be sacrilegious?" Eliott asks under his breath, as if someone would hear them. "Playing random notes on a church organ?"

This makes Lucas chuckle, and Eliott already feels a thousand pounds lighter. "I don't think so, Eliott," Lucas shakes his head. "Just try not to play too loudly, okay?"

Eliott nods, hoping he'll know how to do that. He sees his hands trembling slightly as he places them just above the keys, playing whichever one each finger lands on.

He starts out with a discordant burst of music, one that nearly makes Lucas guffaw if he hadn't covered his mouth in time. After that, Eliott decides to not use all his fingers at once, instead plucking out a few random notes at awful, unsettling intervals. It's really not as awful as it could be, since he's not trying to play a real melody, but it's still not anything you would ever want to hear in a mass.

Soon, Eliott thinks he's getting the hang of it and starts trying to make the notes string together, rather than play them stiltedly one by one. It doesn't work very well, though, and he only rushes into each note, making them bleed together until it's just noise. But it makes Lucas laugh, and maybe cringe a bit.

"Okay, okay," Lucas interrupts after another one of Eliott's clumsy attempts at playing. He takes a moment to keep himself from laughing again before continuing. "I'm going to help you play because I don't think I can take anymore of this."

"You're going to teach me a lesson?" Eliott smiles, raising his eyebrows.

Lucas rolls his eyes fondly. "I guess you could say that, yes," he agrees begrudgingly, but teasingly. "Here, let me take your hands," he continues, placing his hands just above Eliott's. "First, your form is terrible."

"Thanks," Eliott remarks sarcastically.

Lucas bites back a chuckle, ignoring Eliott's comment. "Pretend you're holding a ball in both your hands," he instructs. "They should be curled just slightly, they should never be completely flat. And straighten your back a bit, you're such a sloucher."

Eliott pouts, but follows his instructions. "Yes, maestro," he drones jokingly. Lucas can't hide his laugh that time.

"You know 'Hot Cross Buns'?" Lucas asks through his laughter.

"I don't think so," Eliott answers, genuinely this time.

"It's really simple," Lucas continues. "It teaches you chords. Like this."

Lucas guides Eliott's hands to the correct place, gently pressing down on each finger that needs to press a key. They go through the song rather slowly and haltingly, Lucas letting Eliott get the hang of using his hands correctly. Lucas sings the words quietly as they go through it each time, and Eliott thinks that putting the words to it helps. He has something to pair the chords with, something he can picture in his mind while his hands bring it to life.

"Okay," Lucas sighs, satisfied. "Try it by yourself. Go as slowly or as quickly as you want."

Eliott nods, picturing the balls in his hands and the words to the song in his head. He gets through it slowly, but doesn't make any major mistakes until the very end when his left hand slips somehow.

"It's okay," Lucas says quickly, taking Eliott's hand and putting it back in the right place. "Try again if you want to."

He does, but messes up at the same spot. He admits a small mite of frustration flashed in his chest, but Lucas's comforting voice made it vanish as quickly as it appeared.

"Let's try just that part with me helping you again," Lucas suggests, only putting his hands on Eliott's once Eliott gives him an affirmative nod. "Here we go, slowly."

They take a moment to pause between each chord, slowly moving to the next one and making sure everything is in the right place. Slowly, but surely, Lucas takes his hands away and lets Eliott play by himself.

Eliott plays the whole song, top to bottom, without any mistakes. It's the slowest version of "Hot Cross Buns" ever, but it's a successful attempt.

Lucas beams, telling him to play again, then again, then again.

"We should play together," Eliott suggests after his fourth or fifth time through the song. "I'm on one side and you're on the other."

"That'll be hard on an organ," Lucas replies, his eyes flitting across the keys. "It's not as similar to a piano than you would think it would be."

"Do you think we could try?" Eliott asks, shrugging.

Lucas studies the keys for a few more moments, then nods slowly. "I think so," he mutters, finding his place on the keys. "Go as slow as you want, I'll follow your lead."

"You're not going to show me up?" Eliott asks, raising an eyebrow. "Mr. Maestro?"

Lucas smirks. "I won't make any promises."

Eliott chuckles, taking a moment before starting the song. And he realizes all too quickly that Lucas didn't promise for a reason.

Lucas is moving all around the keys, finding the perfect octave jumps and steps and half-steps. It sounds beautiful, of course, but a little too elaborate for a song like "Hot Cross Buns."

Towards the end of the song, Eliott's left hand and Lucas's right hand land on the same area of the keys, Lucas's on top of Eliott's. They both stop suddenly, taking their other hand away, but Eliott's hand stays pinned beneath Lucas's. Lucas's skin is so warm and soft, and his hand looks so small against Eliott's. It makes Eliott smile, small but still brimming with joy. Lucas clings to Eliott's hand, awkwardly but sweetly intertwining their fingers.

As Eliott turns his head to look over at his best friend, Lucas's lips are suddenly crashing into his.

Eliott's eyes widen, but flutter closed as Lucas deepens the kiss. He feels Lucas's hands in his hair, pushing him closer and closer to him. Lucas still tastes the same, like sleep and salty sea air. His lips are chapped, desperate, but Eliott would kiss them forever if he could. Eliott starts kissing him back once he's out of his stupor, cradling Lucas's face in his hands, fighting back a smile as their noses smush against each other. He feels Lucas's eyelashes brush against his cheeks as his eyes fly open. Lucas takes Eliott's hands and yanks them off his face. Eliott stumbles forward slightly at the force, his eyes opening now, too.

He looks up and sees Lucas stepping backwards from the bench, his hands clasped over his mouth, his eyes too wide and his face too pale. He starts shaking his head, holds out his hands pleadingly. "Eliott, please," he whimpers, his voice shattering. "I-I didn't mean to, I—"

"No, Lucas, it's okay," Eliott interrupts, approaching Lucas carefully. He tries to swallow the lump in his throat, but it stays stuck there, thick and aching. "I'm not mad at you. It… It just happened, right? We got carried away."

Lucas shakes his head, tear after tear rolling down his cheeks. "No…" he chokes out. "I wanted to kiss you. I wanted to. And I did, and—" his tears stop his voice, his breath. His chest rises and falls so sharply Eliott feels his own breath strangle in his throat.

He takes another step towards Lucas, still careful as he can be. "Lucas…" he begins, unsure of what he'll say next. He reaches out a hand, nearing Lucas's shoulder.

Lucas takes a few more steps back, a sob tearing out of his throat. "No, no, don't touch me, please," he begs, holding out his hands again. "Please, Eliott, just stay away from me."

Eliott opens his mouth, but nearly gets the wind knocked out of him as Lucas suddenly shoves him aside. Lucas rushes past him, heading towards the stairs. He pauses just before it, though, nearly falling to his knees before supporting himself against the wall. He leans against it, slowly sliding down to the floor. He buries his face in his hands, his whole body trembling.

"Lucas," Eliott tries again, softly, sitting in front of him. "I'm not leaving you again. I'm not going to do that to you. I can't. I care about you too much, and you're hurting too much right now for me to leave you like this."

"Please, Eliott," Lucas sobs. "Just leave. Please. You haven't done anything wrong, and I don't want to ruin that for you. I can't ruin you. I'd never forgive myself."

"You're not ruining me, Lucas," Eliott reassures, still careful not to touch him.

"I love you, Eliott," Lucas cuts in. His voice had been hard to discern through his tears, but for some reason those three words rang out clear as a bell. "I've always loved you. I've never stopped loving you. Don't you remember me telling you that? When we talked about everything that happened? I told you the exact same thing."

Eliott does remember. He remembers Lucas practically screaming it out of a bleeding throat. He nods at Lucas, feeling tears run down his face.

"The more time I spend with you," Lucas begins, hopeless. "The more I realize that we're not meant to be together. Not even as friends. Because we could never be just friends anymore. Every time I look at you, I remember the times you would kiss me and love me like I had always wanted someone to. But what I want doesn't matter. It's wrong. It's a sin. And I don't want you to become a disgusting sinner because of me."

"We talked about this before," Eliott replies desperately, his heart beginning to hammer against his chest. "Remember? We agreed that it wasn't. God made us this way, Lucas, and God doesn't make mistakes. So how could we be mistakes? How could the way we love be a mistake?"

"God didn't make us like this," Lucas shakes his head bitterly. "And you have a chance to be saved, Eliott. You could meet a girl and love her with everything inside of you. I can't. It's too late for me."

"Lucas, what are you talking about?" Eliott asks, his brow furrowed. "You have Chloé. You're marrying her next year."

Lucas buries his face in his hands again, shaking his head weakly. "I don't love her, Eliott," he weeps, his voice muffled by his hands. "I can't love her. It doesn't matter if I marry her or maybe start a family with her. It's pointless if I don't love her. I'll always want someone else instead of her. I would still be sinning."

Eliott is speechless, unable to find an argument. He feels completely helpless, useless.

"Sometimes I wish you had just let me die that day," Lucas whispers, his heart climbing up his throat to nearly shatter Eliott's.

Eliott feels himself sway, feels his breath getting crushed out of his lungs. His body grows numb, his head spins, his blood chills.

"Why didn't you?" Lucas asks, lifting his head. His eyes are glassy, nearly empty as they meet Eliott's. "Why didn't you just let me drown?"

"You're my best friend," Eliott chokes out. "And I love you. And it would've been my fault if you didn't make it. And I wouldn't have been able to live with myself."

"If I had just died you wouldn't have tried to kill yourself," Lucas says, his voice losing its emotion, as if he's thought of this a thousand times and it's as natural as breathing.

"That's not true," Eliott whimpers.

"And you never would've gone to the institution—"

"That's not true—"

"And they wouldn't have done all those awful things to you—"

"Lucas, stop—"

"And you would've learned to be happy again. To miss me and smile like your papa said—"

"Please—"

Lucas rises to his feet then, pacing the balcony. He tugs on his hair, claws at the back of his neck. "I should've died. I was supposed to die. I never saw a light. Just darkness. I was never going to make it to heaven. I was supposed to die and go to hell and—"

"I said stop, Lucas!" Eliott begs, practically shouts.

"Why can't I just die—"

Lucas's fist collides with the stone wall with a sickening crack. He screams, falling to his knees, holding his now broken, bleeding hand in his other one.

Eliott rushes to Lucas, gathering his trembling body in his arms. He cradles him close to his chest, lets him sob into his shirt. He rocks back and forth, as if it would lull Lucas to sleep or take all his pain and torture away. He knows it won't, but he has to try something.

"I can't be a queer, Eliott," Lucas weeps, Eliott's shirt muffling his voice. "But I don't know how to stop it."

"You don't have to stop, Lucas," Eliott tries again softly. "You don't have to try to be someone you're not."

"What if I hate who I am?" Lucas asks weakly, bitterly. He lifts his head slightly, turning it to where his ear is resting against Eliott's chest. "What if who I am keeps myself from getting everything I want? I'll be sent to hell. Everyone I love will be in heaven, and when I die I'll never see them again. I'll never see you again. I'll never see Maman again."

Eliott starts gently shushing Lucas, holding him a little tighter, but Lucas keeps talking.

"My poor Maman," Lucas chokes out, sniffling. "How many times have I broken her heart over the years? I can't break her heart again. I'm the only thing she has left. And who knows when she won't have me anymore? Who knows when she'll die or when I'll die and then eternity comes between us? How has she lived with having me for a son? I'm not her baby boy anymore. I don't think I ever was."

"She loves you more than anything, Lucas," Eliott replies. "I've seen it. She's your maman, and she loves every second she gets to be your maman."

"She fell in love with someone else," Lucas shakes his head. "Everyone has. You have, too. I can't be that person anymore. But I can't be myself either, because I can't bear to look at myself. I'm… I'm trapped, Eliott. I'm either trapped in someone I've created to make everyone happy, or I'm trapped in myself, who's a disgusting, filthy sinner—"

"Lucas," Eliott interrupts, taking Lucas's face in his hands and making him look at him. "You're not disgusting. You're not filthy. You're not a sinner. You're Lucas. And because you're Lucas, you love so much and feel so much that you explode sometimes. You're exploding right now. You've had all this weight to carry on your shoulders and on your mind, and you're starting to let it go by telling me how heavy it is. And I know how heavy it can be. Believe me, I do. And it's breaking you open and that's okay."

For once, Lucas doesn't have a rebuttal. His voice is silent and his tears are quiet. He rests his head on Eliott's chest again, and Eliott lets him.

"I haven't believed in God much since Papa died," Eliott continues, trying to keep the tears out of his voice. "But when I did, I always felt He just wanted all of us to be happy. And when we're with someone we love, we're the happiest we could ever be. And that can't ever be wrong. Love can never be wrong. Especially from someone who calls Himself the God of love. Right?"

Lucas doesn't answer, but Eliott can feel him trembling.

"Listen, Lucas," Eliott sighs, gingerly weaving his hands through his hair. "When has that whisper the clergy always say is God speaking to you ever told you that you're wrong for being queer? When has that little voice ever told you anything like that? Or has it always been the clergy? Or has it always been other kids' parents whispering about queers before mass? Or has it always been Sunday school teachers? When have you ever felt a truly divine voice tell you anything that those people have told you?"

Lucas is quiet again for a moment, but then shakes his head weakly. "Never," he replies fraily.

"You can love God and be devoted to Him and not go to mass every Sunday," Eliott says. "You can pray to Him and let Him speak to you in whatever little ways He does and you can get all your answers and comfort that way. You don't have to listen to other people who say they know what's best for you in the eyes of God, because what do they know? What do they know about the way God loves or speaks to one of His queer children? What do they know about the way He loves or speaks to any of His other children? God speaks to all of us in different ways, and maybe this isn't the way He needs to speak to you. Maybe you hate the way the music echoes in here because God speaks to you through music, and this building gets in the way of it. Maybe you need to take some time to find the way He speaks to you and hold onto that. Whether it's music, or reading His word, or a combination of multiple things, or whatever. And never let anyone take it away from you. Do you hear me, Lucas?"

Lucas nods. "I do."

Eliott smiles to himself. "Good," he sighs in relief. "And… We don't have to talk about us or do anything drastic until you've made peace with everything. You come first right now. I'll hold your heart for you once it's healed, once it tells me it's okay for me to cradle it. And then I'll give you mine, too. I'll wait as long as I need to."

"Thank you," Lucas whispers, sighing. "Thank you so much, Eliott."

"Anything for you, Lucas," Eliott smiles, kissing the top of Lucas's head. "And we're going to leave here now, and get that hand checked out. They'll find someone else to play the organ in your place."

He feels Lucas nod.

"And one more thing," Eliott continues. "Remember when you and Chloé ran into me outside of the psychiatry office?"

Lucas nods again.

"If you want to, you could start being a patient there, too," Eliott suggests. "Dr. Garnier is extremely kind and patient. And he's like us, Lucas. He understands. He was in the same place you were once, and he knows how to get out of it. He can tell you so many things that you probably need to hear right now. I think he'll help you."

"Okay," Lucas agrees, his voice a little stronger now.

Eliott closes his eyes, exhaling slowly. "I love you, Lucas," he says quietly. "I don't want you to hurt like this anymore. I want to be here, no matter how awful or angry or lost you feel. Okay?"

"I love you, too, Eliott," Lucas returns, and Eliott can feel him smile. "And I'll let you be there. I promise I will."

Eliott kisses the top of Lucas's head again, unable to fight back his smile now.

"Eliott?" Lucas says softly.

Eliott hums in response, lifting his head.

"What would you have done?" Lucas asks, his voice getting quieter. "If I had died that day?"

The thought has invaded Eliott's mind a million times, has appeared to him in countless nightmares, and it attacks him again once the words leave Lucas's mouth.

Eliott resting his forehead against Lucas's, waiting, begging please open your eyes so I can see them again please wake up please come back to me please please please don't leave me, but Lucas never breathes again. His body is hollow as Eliott takes it in his arms, as he clings to it and his grief comes back to him in a tidal wave. He cries until he can't anymore, until the sun has nearly set. Someone approaches him, their footfalls soft, almost frightened on the sand. Then a scream, so agonized Eliott feels his own grief has shrunk to a spec of dust. Lucas's mother. Someone else comes, too, carefully removing Eliott's hands so they can take Lucas's body away. Eliott is too weak to fight back, to hold Lucas tighter, to refuse to let him go. His arms are emptying, and the last thing he feels is Lucas's lifeless hand brushing against his thigh. Madame Lallemant follows the person carrying her son's body, weeping and wailing, leaving a new ocean behind her. Eliott stays on the shore, broken and empty, the tide receding further and further away.

It always ends there, Eliott alone with the weight of Lucas's body haunting his arms like a ghost. He always wakes up then, or something snaps him out of his thoughts. He never knows what happens next. He's never wanted to know.

"I don't know," he answers. He holds Lucas a little tighter, lets himself remember the way they fit together. He closes his eyes and lets himself smile. "But you're here now, Lucas. And you're alive. That has to mean something. If you really were meant to die that day, God would've found a way to stop me from saving you."

"Yeah," Lucas replies, nodding slightly.

"Do you remember what I said to you when you came back?" Eliott asks quietly.

Lucas shakes his head.

"I'm so happy you're here," he recites, his tears finally leaking into his voice. "I'm so happy you're okay."

Lucas lets out a sob, bunching Eliott's shirt in his hands. Another sob ripples through his body; another, another.

"You're safe now," Eliott whispers. "You're here. You're okay. God loves you. I love you. Your maman loves you. We all love you so much, Lucas. You're alive and you're so loved."

Lucas cries harder, but Eliott can feel him smiling against his chest, hear his relieved sighs between sniffles and sobs. He smooths soothing circles into Lucas's back, holds him as closely as he can, waiting for Lucas's tears to dry, but almost hoping they won't. It's nice here, tucked away in a corner of the church; the stained glass window spilling heavenly light on them, all the bad memories that live in this place being slowly burned and faded away like incense, Lucas in Eliott's arms and Eliott in Lucas's. It's calm, tranquil, peaceful. All the cold stone and lifeless statues have been chipped away, only leaving the warmth you're supposed to feel from holiness, from sacredness. The warmth of love, understanding, safety, life. Eliott could stay here forever, knowing it means that Lucas will be safe in his arms, and that they can just exist. They don't have to be anything or mean a certain thing to each other. They're together, and they love each other, and they're meant to be close to each other. Eliott has always known that, but now Lucas does, too.

But soon, Lucas isn't trembling with sobs anymore. He's breathing deeply, easily. Eliott actually thinks Lucas has fallen asleep for a moment, but Lucas speaks when Eliott is about to check.

"Eliott?"

"Mm-hmm?"

"Can we go to the hospital now?" he asks. "My hand is killing me. I think it's broken."

Eliott looks down as Lucas pulls away slightly, revealing his hand. Scarlet blood is slicked all over it, gushing from his knuckles. And if Lucas's hand is broken, the blood is covering up any bruising. Eliott's stomach turns at the sight, nodding hurriedly. "Okay. Can you get up?"

Lucas nods, slowly rising to his feet. There's blood all over his pure white shirt, and when Eliott looks down at his shirt, his is, too. Somehow, these sights make him feel nauseous, too, but he manages to force the bile down. He rises, too, guiding Lucas down the stairs and out of the church.

Luckily, Eliott is able to drive from the church to the hospital. Eliott goes a little faster than he should, but it's still fairly early, so the roads aren't too busy.

When they're nearly there, Eliott looks over at Lucas and sees him cradling his injured hand close to his chest, his eyes closed. He watches for a moment as the stains on Lucas's shirt get darker, and he involuntarily pushes the gas pedal a little further forward.

"I'm not dying, Eliott," Lucas mutters, almost chuckling. "You don't have to speed to get me to the hospital."

Hearing Lucas joke puts Eliott slightly at ease, and he lets his foot slightly off the gas. He exhales slowly.

Everything is going to be okay.

They arrive at the hospital about five minutes later, and their first priority (besides Lucas's hand, of course) is to call their mothers. They'd be going to mass soon, and when they realize that their sons aren't there and that Lucas's car is gone is a recipe for panic and chaos. Eliott will have to use the hospital payphone of course, he doesn't have a potentially broken hand.

"But what am I gonna tell them?" Eliott frets as they wait for someone to take Lucas back. "They're going to ask what happened, and I can't tell them you punched the church wall."

"I don't know," Lucas shrugs. "But, I'm pretty sure a bit of my blood is on the wall so maybe we should just tell the truth. Well, not the whole truth."

"How much do I tell them, then?" Eliott asks.

"Say the empty church got to my head and I started panicking and I punched the wall," Lucas suggests. "That's all true."

"Okay," Eliott nods, writing out a script in his head. "What if your maman gets upset?"

"She's going to, Eliott," Lucas sighs. "That's how she is. The best thing to do is tell her a few times that I'm okay, and that we're at the hospital and someone is taking care of me. If she says she'll be coming down here, don't tell her not to. If she's here with me, it'll make her feel better."

Eliott nods again. "My maman will probably want to come down here, too."

Lucas nods. "A Lallemant-Demaury party at the hospital," he chuckles lightly.

Eliott chuckles, too, his head thudding lightly against the wall. He sighs deeply, and Lucas does, too, next to him. He looks over and Lucas's eyes are closed again, bursts of pain flashing across his face. "Are you sure you're okay, Lucas?" Eliott asks again for the twentieth time in the last hour.

Lucas nods, opening his eyes. "It'd be nice if someone would see me already so they can fix me up and then I can sleep. I forgot how exhausting attacks like that are. I could sleep for a week, I think."

Eliott opens his mouth to reply, but someone calling Lucas's name interrupts him. Lucas sighs in relief, rising to his feet.

"I'll go ahead and call our mamans," Eliott tells him as he leaves. "Get better, okay?"

Lucas smiles at him over his shoulder as he follows the nurse down the hall.

Eliott watches Lucas disappear into a room, letting out another deep sigh. He hopes Lucas's hand won't be as badly hurt as it seems like it could be. He hopes Lucas will remember everything Eliott told him today, that it won't be lost in the fog of panic. He hopes that today is a turning point for Lucas, that he can actually start healing, that he can nurture his heart the way it needs to be.

Eliott smiles to himself as he stands up, feeling cold coins on his fingertips as he fishes through his pockets. Now's the hard part: calling their mamans.

august 14th, 1968

10:58

caen, france

"I still don't know how you managed to punch a stone wall and walk away with barely a fracture," Eliott teases, noticing how nervous Lucas seems. They're sitting in the waiting room of the psychiatric office with Madame Lallemant. It's a dreary day today, heavy with the humidity of a coming storm, making the usually warm office not as welcoming as it has been before. And, of course, that doesn't ease any of Lucas's worries.

Lucas smiles weakly at Eliott's comment, but it doesn't linger. He's gone back to his old habit, even with an injured hand. His right hand is clasped over his left, rather than the other way around, and he doesn't squeeze as hard as he usually does. Eliott's noticed that if he squeezes the slightest bit too hard he winces, exhaling sharply.

"Are you sure you don't want me in there with you, mon cherie?" Madame Lallemant asks kindly, placing her hand on Lucas's shoulder.

Lucas pauses a moment, then nods. "Yes, Maman," he sighs. "I'll be okay."

"Would you want Eliott to go with you?" she asks, looking at Eliott.

Lucas looks at Eliott, too, and there's something in his eyes that Eliott can't quite read. He sighs, then shakes his head. "I'll be okay."

Eliott finds himself smiling, pride flitting softly in his chest like a heartbeat. "Dr. Garnier is really easy to talk to, Lucas," he says. "He's really good at what he does. He'll help you a lot."

Lucas smiles, too, exhaling slowly.

"Lucas?" Dr. Garnier's voice calls as he steps into the waiting room. He smiles when he sees them all, approaching them. "You're his mother, I presume?" he asks Madame Lallemant, holding out his hand.

"Yes, sir," she smiles, shaking his hand. "Madeleine."

"Nice to meet you, Madeleine," he smiles back. "And Lucas, nice to meet you as well," he says, shaking Lucas's hand now. "What happened to your other hand?" he asks, staring at Lucas's injured hand.

"It's a bit of a long story," Lucas replies shyly.

"We can talk about it once we're alone," Dr. Garnier dismisses. He looks over at Eliott, smiling wider. "It's good to see you again, Eliott. How are you?"

"I'm well," Eliott nods, smiling back.

"You don't need to see me today, either?" Dr. Garnier asks.

Eliott shakes his head. "Just Lucas."

"Very well," Dr. Garnier nods. "Are you ready, Lucas?"

Lucas nods, standing. He says a quick goodbye to Madame Lallemant and Eliott before following Dr. Garnier to his office.

Once they hear the door shut behind them, Madame Lallemant sighs deeply, almost shakily.

"I always worried he would end up like me," she says quietly, biting her nails.

"What do you mean?" Eliott asks, his heart aching for her at her words.

"Sick," she replies, thin and tired. "I don't know if you noticed, you were so young, but… he was different after his father left us. He was able to move on from that, of course, but it changed him more than he admits. He's been becoming more and more like me. He's getting sick."

Maybe it's the exhaustion the past few days have left him with, but tears start filling Eliott's eyes. He shakes his head weakly, fights back the tears. "Lucas is strong. He's just not as strong as he usually is right now. He's not sick."

"You haven't seen him the last two years, Eliott," Madame Lallemant replies fraily. "Nightmares, these… spells where he's panicked beyond belief and I can't calm him down… The whole time I was waiting for him to break like I have before. He never did, but… He came so close so many times. He…" A tear rolls down her cheek, then, but she quickly wipes it away. "He started drinking at one point. He would be gone all night but then I would see him at the table at breakfast every morning like nothing ever happened. Like he'd been sound asleep in his bed all night instead of drinking himself dizzy."

Eliott's eyes are wide, his mouth dry. "He was drinking?" he asks quietly, his voice almost not coming out.

"He stopped when he met Chloé," she replies quickly, seeing Eliott's worry. "And even if he hadn't, I was planning on sitting him down and talking to him about it. Back then, I was worried the drinking would have the same effect on him that it did on his father. He was already so much like me, I didn't want him turning into his father, too. But after Chloé, he was almost himself again. He still had nightmares sometimes, but they were only once in a blue moon, really. He wasn't gone all night anymore. And at breakfast, his eyes were sparkling and alive, not glazed over because he's still the slightest bit drunk. He would talk to me, tell me about his day, tell me about all these plans he had with Chloé," she smiles widely, chuckles lightly. But she bites her lip, looking down the hallway where Dr. Garnier's office is. "Now he's not talking to me again. He's going out at night again, but he's never out too late, so I don't think he's drinking again. I don't know what's wrong with him. He's my son and I don't know what's wrong with him. I'm his mother. I'm all he has and he won't turn to me anymore."

Eliott stands, quickly moving to the seat Lucas was sitting in as Madame Lallemant cries harder. He places a careful arm around her shoulder, takes a moment to gather himself before offering any words of comfort.

"He's learning right now, Madame Lallemant," he begins. "He's learning how to rely on people. He's getting the help he needs to do that right now as we speak. He's talking with Dr. Garnier, and the more he talks, the easier it'll get. He needs time. It's painful, but that's all you can give him right now. Give him time and space and make sure he knows that you're there for him when he's ready. And, thankfully, that's all he needs."

Madame Lallemant nods, breathing deeply and wiping away her tears. "Okay," she sighs, nodding. "Okay."

"He's going to be okay," Eliott promises, and this time, his voice doesn't waver. "He's going to go off to school and become the doctor he's always wanted to be, and he's going to be married, and he's going to be the happiest man in the world. He's meant to be successful and happy and the most wonderful person we've ever met."

"He is," she grins, nodding. "He is."

Eliott grins back, giving her shoulder a gentle, comforting squeeze. He waits patiently for her breath to even out, for her tears to dry.

"I never thanked you," Madame Lallemant says before Eliott can think of a way to pick the conversation back up. "For saving him that day. And I never apologized either, for the way I acted when you came to visit him."

Eliott shakes his head. "You don't have to apologize," he dismisses. "It was so long ago."

"You're like a son to me, Eliott," she cuts in. "How could I not apologize to my son?"

Eliott smiles, getting emotional again, nodding once. "I didn't know how to tell you I almost lost him," he shrugs. "I don't think I'd fully processed it anyway. I wouldn't have been able to talk about it."

"I understand," she nods. "I just remember them starting to take his shirt off, and there were all these bruises on his chest…"

A wave of nausea washes over Eliott for a moment, but he's able to keep himself steady.

"The doctor and the nurses all looked at each other, like they were having a conversation without saying a word. One of the nurses started feeling all over his chest, then he stopped at one spot, saying that one of his ribs was cracked. And the doctor nodded and asked me if my son was unresponsive before we brought him here," her voice catches, and she takes a moment, breathing deeply. "And I asked him if he meant dead, and he nodded. And I said I didn't know, because I wasn't there when it happened, but you were. So he sent someone to find you and ask you about it."

Eliott nods, the memories briefly passing through his mind.

"I think I was in shock," she shrugs. "First, you run in telling me Lucas needed to go to the hospital because he almost drowned. Then, not even thirty minutes later, someone asks me how long my baby boy was dead for," her voice breaks again, but she keeps talking. "I think I felt guilty, too. I had no way of knowing it was happening, of course, but I wouldn't have been there in his final moments. I wouldn't have been able to tell him how much I love him one more time. I couldn't remember the last thing I had said to him. It had been almost a full day between that last night and the moment you came running in. I was… I was such a mess."

"It's okay," Eliott says softly.

"I need you to know that I was never mad at you, or upset with you, or anything like that," she adds. "If it weren't for you, I would've had to bury my son. It was simply too much for me to handle. Just the thought of it. Everything was happening so quickly and—"

"It's okay, Madame Lallemant," Eliott repeats, a little louder. "And I forgive you. I know how much you love Lucas. I've felt how overpowering and all-encompassing a mother's love is. That's all it was. After nearly losing him, you loved him even more than you have before."

Madame Lallemant is quiet for a moment, smiling with teary eyes. "You really do have Noémie's heart, Eliott," she says quietly. "So… full and pure."

Eliott bites his lip to keep from smiling to wide.

"And you look just like Eduard did when we were all younger," Madame Lallemant adds, a notable sadness in her voice now. "I wonder how your mother stands it sometimes, you know. Seeing so much of him in you."

Eliott's smile fades, and his lower lip remains caught beneath his teeth. He nods weakly, looking down at his lap. "If I had a penny for every time someone's said that to me…" he mumbles, shaking his head now. He doesn't think Madame Lallemant heard him.

"He was about your age when he volunteered for the military," she continues. "Imagine, a boy as young as you are right now going off to war…" she trails off, shaking her head. "I pray for a lot of things every day and night, and one of them is that you and Lucas will never have to go through what your fathers went through."

"The war killed Papa," Eliott thinks aloud. He doesn't know where the thought came from, only that it ended up on the tip of his tongue. "It doesn't matter that it took over 20 years for it to kill him. It did."

Madame Lallemant places her hand over his, squeezing it gently. "I know, Eliott," she says softly. "I know."

She drops her hand, and Eliott pulls his arm away. He occupies his hands with the hem of his shorts, absentmindedly tracing the seams. The small curves of each stitch are comforting, steady and constant like a heartbeat. He doesn't mind the silence between him and Madame Lallemant, either. It's not quite comfortable, but it's not intrusive, either. He keeps tracing seams, keeps himself occupied.

Outside, rain begins to pour gently, tapping almost rhythmically on the pavement, on the asphalt. Eliott wishes he could hear the sound of the rain as it falls on the ocean right now. It always sounds different accompanied by the waves, like black and white keys on a piano being played at the same time. Maybe him and Lucas can listen to it when they get home, if Lucas is feeling up to it. Maybe Lucas can memorize the combination of black and white keys and hold it gently in his hands until it's written in the lines of his palms, his fingertips. Then maybe he can play it whenever they miss the sound, or whenever they don't want to go out into the rain themselves. Eliott smiles at the thought, at another secret him and Lucas can keep until later.

A door opens down the hall, and Lucas steps out first, the picture of relief. He smiles as Dr. Garnier steps out and pats him on the shoulder, easy and comfortable. Lucas's smile widens when he looks over and sees Eliott and Madame Lallemant, waving at them as he walks a little faster. Eliott notices faint tearstains on Lucas's cheeks as he approaches them, and a tint of pink at the corner of his eyes, but he's smiling still and breathing easily.

"How was it, mon cherie?" Madame Lallemant asks, pulling her son into a tight hug.

"Good, Maman," he replies, kissing her cheek. "I needed it."

"You're feeling better?" she smiles, wiping the stray tears from his face.

Lucas nods. "Much better."

"If it's all right with you, Madame," Dr. Garnier begins. "I'd like to see him again next week. But, of course, we can have him back whenever you're available."

Madame Lallemant nods. "Of course. We should be okay for the same time next week."

"Great," Dr. Garnier smiles. "It was nice meeting you, Madame," He turns to Eliott then, holding out his hand. "It was nice to see you again, too, Eliott. Remember to call if you need anything at all, okay?"

Eliott shakes Dr. Garnier's hand, smiling back warmly. "I will."

"Drive safe, okay?" Dr. Garnier says, waving goodbye as he turns on his heel and walks back down the hallway.

Eliott shifts his gaze over to Lucas, and their eyes meet. He relaxes when he sees Lucas smile, take a step closer to him.

"Thank you, Eliott," Lucas says. "For telling me to do this."

"You're welcome," Eliott returns, nodding.

"Do you and your maman want to join us for lunch?" Lucas asks. "Maman always buys too much food and we just end up throwing it away. It'll be like the old days, too."

Eliott grins, nodding. "I'd love to. And I'm sure Maman would love to join, too."

Lucas grins, too, bowing his head. His grin has shrunk to half of a smile when he looks back up. "Let's go."

august 16th, 1968

18:34

caen, france

Since he came home from the institution, Eliott helps his mother with the dishes almost every night. She reassures him she can do them herself on the days where his mood was lower than usual, but for the past few weeks they've been able to do them together.

It's comforting to Eliott, doing something so casual and mundane with his mother. They talk about what their days were like, or whatever random thoughts come to their mind. Lately, his mother has been talking about all the TV shows she's been watching. Eliott hasn't seen any of them, but he lets his mother explain every character and every plotline because it always makes her smile, makes her eyes light up.

"Have you talked to Lucas recently?" she asks tonight, a hopeful yet relaxed look on her face.

Eliott shakes his head. "Not since we had lunch with them the other day. He told me right before we left that he was going up to Paris for a couple of days to tour his school."

"He'll be starting his first semester soon, won't he?" she replies, cleaning a spot on a plate that Eliott missed.

"Beginning of September, I think," Eliott nods. "Hopefully he'll find someone that can help him like Dr. Garnier while he's there."

"I'm sure there's plenty of people in Paris that can help him," his mother smiles, but it begins to fade from her face as a beat of silence hangs between them. "I just feel bad that you two just reconciled and now he has to go to school."

"It's okay, Maman," Eliott reassures her. "We'll write letters. He'll be here for the holidays. This isn't goodbye for us."

"But you'll miss him," she says, rather quietly.

"Of course I'll miss him," Eliott agrees, shrugging. "But I know that he'll miss me, too."

His mother smiles again, sighing contentedly. "You know, Ellie, Papa always said that God gives us people we're meant to fall in love with. But I think He also gives us best friends, someone we love in a different way, but we love them with a love just as powerful as the romantic kind. I think God meant for you two to be best friends."

"Was Papa your best friend, too?" Eliott asks, unable to help but think the two loves could be intertwined. "Or was he just the person you were meant to love?"

She considers, tears filling her eyes. "He was both," she nods. She fidgets with her wedding band, smoothing her finger over it. "He was both."

"I think I've found someone who's both, too," Eliott begins, not stumbling over a single word. He remembers saying the truth resting on the tip of his tongue to his father's grave, remembers the way saying it aloud reminded him that he'll never know if his father's love was unconditional. He remembers Lucas's voice echoing hauntingly in the empty chapel as he says they could never be just friends again, as he says that he loves him, always has loved him, will never stop loving him. He remembers how much he kept from his mother whenever she asked him what had happened with Lucas. He wonders how much his world will change all over again once those fateful words leave his lips.

"You have?" his mother asks after a moment, her face unreadable.

Eliott nods, tries to breathe but his chest is too tight. Somehow, the words strangle out of his throat: "I love Lucas, Maman."

"Oh," breathes, her eyes flitting as they must be scanning through memory after memory. She looks back at Eliott after a moment, softening when she sees his tense, nervous expression. "Is… that why you were so upset when you came home? You love him, but he's in love with Chloé."

Eliott nods weakly. "And because we were together. Before I had to go to the institution. I thought we were still together, but somewhere along the way it ended without me knowing. I came home, and it was over."

His mother blinks, shaking her head slightly. "How long were you together? When did you…"

"About a month and a half before Papa died," Eliott replies, his voice growing thin and weak. "Not very long at all, since after that night we just wrote letters. But that month and a half held some of the best days of my life, Maman. Because he was mine and I was his. Because he loved me and I loved him, too."

"Does a part of him still love you?" she asks quietly, watching for any reaction from Eliott that says she's crossed a line, asked the wrong question.

"I don't know how much of his whole it takes up," Eliott sighs, shrugging. "But there is a part of him that does. He's… He's told me so. That he still loves me."

"Does Madeleine know about this?" his mother continues, subconsciously looking in the direction of the Lallemants' house.

Eliott looks too, his heart sinking as the answer comes to his mind. "I don't think so."

Tears spring in his mother's eyes again. "Did… Papa know about this?"

Eliott instinctually bites down on his lower lip to keep it from trembling. He shakes his head as he waits for the lump in his throat to dissolve. It never does. "No," he chokes out. He realizes the lump in his throat is the memory of telling the truth to a stone. It claws at his throat, scratches behind his eyelids. "He never knew. I never got to tell him…" He trails off, a sob stopping his voice.

A tear rolls down his mother's cheek, becomes lost in the crease of her wobbling frown. "Then tell me, honey," she sobs. "Tell me. Tell me what you never got to tell him."

The lump, the memory in his throat seems to burst, filling his chest and mouth with a burning, bitter taste. He almost chokes on it, but he's able to take a deep, steadying breath. "I'm queer, Maman," he repeats from that day at the cemetery, the first time living ears will hear him say the words. "My heart's stammered for girls before, but it can skip a beat for boys, too. My heart can fall in love with anyone I think, but it's loved Lucas above all else. It loves him because he's beautiful and stubborn and wonderful and paper-thin and warm. I've… I've loved him my whole life, I think. I think I'll love him forever."

"Even after everything that's happened?" his mother asks, still quiet, hesitant. "Even still?"

"Even still," Eliott nods, his voice clearing enough to make the words sound as resolute and sure as they feel on his tongue. He holds his breath once they leave his mouth, though, his heart bracing, steadying itself against his ribcage. He can't bear that awful weight he felt at the cemetery again. He can't.

But his mother smiles, ear to ear, a new sun appearing and shining in her eyes. She lifts her hands to cradle her son's face, wipe away his tears. This only makes Eliott cry harder—the warmth of her hands, her love. He places her hands on top of hers, holds them as tightly as he can.

"My sweet Ellie," she sighs, her voice thick with tears now, too. "There's nothing else in this world I love more than you."

A sob bursts like joy from Eliott's throat, choking him with the refrain of a majestic orchestra. He drops his hands and envelops his mother in his arms, wishing he'll never have to let her go. She slowly guides him to the floor as his knees become weak with relief, keeping him safe close to her chest.

"I'll never forget," she begins, running her hands through his hair. "The day Papa and I went to the doctor and he told me I was pregnant. We'd been trying for over three years to have a baby, and suddenly we had one. I squeezed Papa's hand and looked down at my belly and my heart burst like it never had before. You were the smallest you'd ever be and my love for you was bigger than my body will ever be. And it was immediate. The love I had for the baby I was carrying. The love I had for you. And it keeps growing. The day you were born, and I held you and looked at your sweet, little face for the first time and you were real and you were mine. The day you learned to walk and talk and sing and play. Every birthday and Christmas. Every drawing you've ever given me, every smile. My love for you grows every single day. It could never shrink, let alone disappear completely. Especially in a single moment. There's nothing you could ever do to make me stop loving you."

Eliott's tears keep running down his face, staining his mother's shirt. "What about Papa?" he asks, his voice muffled.

"I wish you could've known just how much he loved you, honey," she replies, close to sobbing now, too. "Every time he got sick, he would get scared that it was his time and that he would leave you. He was always afraid he wouldn't get to say goodbye to you. That night… He was begging everyone who would listen that he needed to see his boy one last time, before God took him home. Every doctor, every nurse, random people passing by his room. He couldn't bear the idea of never seeing you again. If you had had the chance to tell him, I think he would love you even more for being so brave and so yourself."

Another sob escapes Eliott's throat, his mother's words replacing the memory of the silence of the cemetery. He urges the words to echo in his mind, to keep filling the silence, to keep reminding himself of the fact that he was blessed with two best parents he could've asked for. He reminds himself to never forget that he is loved, despite everything.

"I'm so happy you trusted me enough to tell me, Eliott," his mother says, kissing the top of his head. "I'm just so proud of you. You'll always be my baby boy."

"Thank you, Maman," Eliott replies, his voice flooded with tears of joy. "I love you so much."

"I love you, too," his mother returns, pulling away and helping him to his feet. "Let me make you some tea, honey."

"We just did dishes," Eliott replies, slightly fatigued now.

"I'll just need the kettle and a cup," she dismisses, turning around to give him a kind, reassuring smile. "It won't be the end of the world if I use those."

Eliott returns the smile, sitting at his usual place at the table. He watches her make the tea, the way she treats everything so carefully and so lovingly. He's overwhelmingly glad his doubts about her were so wrong he wonders where they came from in the first place. The whistling of the kettle doesn't make him jump like it usually does.

She sets the tea in front of him, the teabag already steeping and curling in the nearly boiling water. He wraps his hands around the cup, the warmth becoming softer when his mother moves her hands on top of his. She squeezes lightly before pulling away, sitting across from him.

"What's happening between you and Lucas?" she asks quietly. "Is he going to stay with Chloé?"

Eliott bobs the teabag, shrugging. He doesn't want to recount what Lucas had said about her in the church earlier that week, so he comes up with an innocent lie. "Probably. I don't blame him. I never could."

"But he loves you," his mother replies. "He loves you the way you love him?"

Eliott nods. "I don't think I need to tell you how dangerous it is for people like us, Maman. He doesn't want to fight the rest of his life."

"Do you?" she asks, even quieter now.

Eliott bites his lip, looks at the darkening liquid in his cup instead of his mother's eyes. "I don't know," he answers honestly. "For Lucas, I would. But I can't force him into a battle he doesn't want to fight just because I want him to. That's not what loving someone is. It's fighting with them, not for them."

"The people we love can only fight for so long," his mother replies. "We need to let them rest. That's when we fight for them. When they can't fight for themselves." She sighs, taking Eliott's hand again. He looks up, his heart softening when he sees the earnest, passionate curl to her lip as she continues. "Honey, maybe… Maybe Lucas needs to rest right now. Maybe soon he'll be ready to fight again. And if he is, he'll find you and stay by your side as long as he can."

Eliott smiles, squeezing her hand. "Maybe."

His mother smiles back, tears reappearing in her eyes. "Don't give up on him. Even if he doesn't love you the way you want him to, you still need each other. You still complete each other. You're still best friends."

Eliott nods. "I won't, Maman. I promise."

"He needs to hear you promise that to him, too, Eliott," she tells him. "Especially after the week he's had…"

Eliott nods again. "I know." He sighs, looking over his shoulder to stare at the small part of Lucas's house he can see through the window. "I know."

"There's a reason you were able to save him that day," his mother continues. "And there's a reason he was able to save you that night."

"I know," Eliott repeats one more time, remembering him saying the same thing to Lucas in the chapel. "But I'm not sure if Lucas knows has fully realized that yet."

"All the more reason to talk to him," his mother smiles. "There's still so much more he needs to know and you need to tell him those things. As soon as you can."

Eliott looks back again at Lucas's house. "Should I go over there now? See if he's home?"

"I think it's worth it to try, honey," she nods.

"Okay," Eliott nods back, rising from his seat. He sighs when he sees the pride in his mother's eyes, pride of his own filling his chest. "I don't know what I would do without you, Maman."

His mother's watery smile widens as she rises, too, giving her son another tight, loving hug. "I love you, Ellie."

"I love you, too, Maman."

Then, a knock at the door. They both jump, pull away from each other's embrace.

"I'll answer it," Eliott tells her, crossing to the front of the house.

A laugh nearly escapes his throat when he opens the door and sees Lucas standing there, hopeful.

"I was… I was just about to come and see you," Eliott says, letting himself chuckle.

Lucas chuckles, too, his eyes crinkling. He pauses, his smile fading slightly. He looks towards the sea, taking a deep breath. He looks back at Eliott. "I know it's not Sunday, but… Do you want to build some sandcastles?"

august 16th, 1968

19:10

caen, france

Eliott lets Lucas lead him down the beach, making sure he doesn't force him closer to the shore than he's comfortable with. He watches Lucas, too, trying to pay as much attention to his body language as he can. Lucas doesn't seem anxious at first, only wound up slightly, but his nerves seem to build with every step. His eyes keep flitting between the sand beneath his feet and the horizon ahead of him, most likely trying to keep himself from going too far, too. He's squeezing his hand again, right over left. He'll stop occasionally—look beneath, ahead, behind, at Eliott—but then keep walking. He walks a little slower each time, his shoulders drawing further and further inward, his body close to collapsing in on itself.

"We don't have to do this, Lucas," Eliott says, almost begging. "I can tell you're anxious. You don't have to do this for me."

:Lucas stops again, turning around. He bites his lip, keeping his eyes on Eliott's as they plead trust me, please. Lucas must've seen the recognition cross Eliott's face because the plea is gone with a blink. "Here's a good spot," he replies, the corner of his mouth quirking up.

Eliott takes a deep breath, nodding. He sits next to Lucas, who's already started gathering handfuls of sand. Eliott watches the streams of gritty glass flowing from between his fingers, watches them catch the light of the setting sun and send out a burst of crying, white light. He feels the urge to find every grain of it and hold it in the palms of his hands, let them bury themselves in the lines there so they'll know they're safe. He knows, too, how it feels to slip from Lucas's grasp, if only for a moment. Maybe empathy is what's giving him that urge, too.

Lucas isn't looking at him. He's studying the piles of sand he's built into a small mound, the piles currently melting in his hands. His mouth is open as if he's about to say something, but a minute or two passes by and not even the smallest sound comes out. He looks out at the sea, and Eliott can't see his face.

"I can still taste it sometimes," Lucas says. "The ocean. Filling my lungs and…"

Eliott doesn't know what to say. He sighs, debating whether he should reach out and place his hand on Lucas's shoulder. But Lucas turns and looks at him again, his face tired, reassuring him that he doesn't need Eliott to say anything at all.

Lucas's lips are chapped, Eliott notices. Pink as can be, but cracking. Eliott remembers all the times he kissed those lips, all the times those lips formed the words that his heart and mind needed more than anything. He imagines those lips kissing Chloé, kissing a bottle or a glass—

"Your maman told me about the drinking," Eliott blurts, the image too strong in his mind to simply ignore it.

Lucas's hands open completely, the sand falling with a dull thud. His head snaps towards Eliott's direction, his eyes wide but never meeting Eliott's. He takes a deep, shuddering breath, his eyelids falling slightly as he nods. "I hated it, but it made me forget everything for a few hours. And it was easier to kiss girls when I could barely tell they were girls."

"But you stopped because of Chloé," Eliott replies. "Right?"

"Technically yes, but not really in the way you'd think," Lucas shrugs as he trails off. "She made sure I never went to pubs or parties. She made sure we went places where it was hard for me to get a drink. I'm glad she did, don't get me wrong. God knows, I could be dead right now if she didn't. But she wasn't as good of a distraction as the drinks were. I just latched onto the fact that she probably saved my life, and how can I not love someone who's done that for me? What kind of heartless… thing would I be if I didn't?"

Eliott bites his tongue as the only logical question he could come up with appears at the back of his mind. You really loved me, right? He knows the answer, but the doubt and discouragement in Lucas's voice makes him second-guess, if only for a moment.

"You're not heartless," Eliott says instead, choosing comfort over query. "Your heart just doesn't belong to her."

Lucas shakes his head. "It can't."

Eliott nods, almost hesitantly. "It can't."

"You don't have to be afraid to talk about her, Eliott," Lucas sighs, pity written in his voice. "Or the way I am. Sometimes I feel like you're more afraid of everything than I am."

Eliott is speechless. "L-Lucas, what—"

"I think we need to stop dancing around what happened to us. What we are," Lucas continues when Eliott trails off. "We're queers. I drowned, and I was dead. You tried to kill yourself. You have manic depressive disorder. There's words we can use, Eliott, and I think it's time we start using them."

Eliott nods weakly, slightly overwhelmed by Lucas's sudden conviction.

Lucas sighs deeply, composing himself. "I'm sorry if I sound harsh, but… I've been thinking a lot since Sunday, since my appointment with Dr. Garnier… There's a reason you were able to save me that day, Eliott."

Eliott can't fight the smile that appears on his face. "And there's a reason you were able to save me that night."

Lucas smiles, his eyes brightening as he nods. "Yeah. There's a reason we're both alive right now. I don't know what the reason is, but maybe we could spend some time looking for it."

"How will we?" Eliott asks, trying to sound brave. But Lucas is right. He is afraid.

Lucas chuckles, shaking his head. "Where do I begin," Eliott hears him mutter. He looks up, speaking louder now. "I have some things to tell you first."

Eliott shifts uncomfortably, nodding. "Okay."

"I talked to Chloé," Lucas begins. "I told her that I'm queer."

Eliott's eyes widen. "Oh," he replies dumbly.

"And I told her that I'm still in love with you."

Eliott feels pink creep along his cheekbones, reaching the tips of his ears. "Oh."

Warm blossoms bloom on Lucas's cheeks, too, but he somehow manages to make them wilt and disappear. "Eliott, she was relieved."

Eliott's jaw drops now. "What do you mean?"

"She's a queer, too," Lucas replies, disbelief and amusement mingling strangely in his voice. "Chloé is queer, like us. She's in love with her best friend, Maria."

Eliott laughs, too, clumsily. "So?"

"We've called off the engagement," Lucas sighs in relief, gathering more sand in his hands.

"Have you told your maman?" Eliott asks cautiously.

Lucas's shoulders tense; barely, but enough for Eliott to notice. "Not yet," he answers quietly as his shoulders relax. "I thought about just telling her that Chloé is queer, but that'd be terrible of me. I don't know if I'm ready to tell her the truth."

"It's okay if you aren't," Eliott reassures him, digging his hands in the sand next to Lucas's.

"I know," Lucas shrugs, smiling sadly. "I don't want to live the rest of my life without telling her. I know I would regret it." He glances at Eliott, then, silently asking for confirmation.

Eliott nods, unable to admit out loud that not coming out to his father is quite possibly the biggest regret he'll ever have. His throat is starting to swell with tears again.

"She won't be here forever," Lucas says quietly, trying to knit his fingers to where no sand would slip through them. "No matter how much I beg God that she will."

Eliott reaches, cupping his hands beneath Lucas's to catch any falling sand. Only a small trickle escapes, but it lands warm and soft onto Eliott's waiting palms. He's careful to keep them directly beneath the stream, refusing to let a single grain touch the ground.

He looks over at Lucas when he feels his eyes on him, his breath catching. There are tears in Lucas's eyes, but they aren't a puddle pooling at his lashline. They're like stars scattered in the night sky; freckles of light set randomly yet perfectly in place.

"Thank you," Lucas whispers, as if the words were sealing his final breath.

Gravity rubs circles into Eliott's back, gently pushing him forward. Eliott lets himself fall, feeling heat rise and bloom like a heartbeat as he draws closer and closer to Lucas. He only resists the pull when their lips aren't even a breath apart.

"Is this okay?" he asks, his voice a note away from silence.

"Yes," Lucas responds, his own voice breaking. "Please."

Eliott tilts his head until his lips fit perfectly against Lucas's. In that moment, the entire world and every parallel universe fell back into place. It feels like it all had been standing still until now. It's all moving again now, dancing in its natural rhythm as the kiss deepens, broadens.

Both their hands fall open and spill the sand they were holding as they suddenly remember the path they're supposed to be on—weaving through Eliott's hair, standing steady at the curve of Lucas's neck. How could they ever have gotten lost? How could they have ever forgotten the places that were made for them?

Eliott's hands say, forgive me, as they find Lucas's heartbeat. Lucas's hands reply as they kiss Eliott's scalp, there's nothing to forgive, now that we've found each other again.

Eliott remembers him and Lucas's very first kiss feeling like coming home. But after two years, after everything that's happened, Eliott is realizing that first kiss was finding home. The exhilaration and peace of finally having a place you know belongs to you. Finding home comes with tears of joy, breathlessness. This kiss, the one he wishes will never end, was coming home. A sigh of relief, a calming of the heart. You walk through the door and the smell you've become blind to comes rushing back, and that name of home is the only way you can describe it. Everything is the same, exactly how you left it. Safety, familiarity—something bigger, stronger than belonging. Home is everything you can't name but know better than the back of your hand. Kissing Lucas is home.

Lucas must have come to the same conclusion, because the kiss becomes a mess of lip-splitting smiles and knocking teeth. Eliott has never had a kiss like this, and he prays that every time he kisses Lucas from now on he'll have that exact same thought.

Eliott's lips feel weightless, slightly numb when Lucas pulls away to laugh, but feeling explodes in his chest, bubbles in his stomach. He laughs along with Lucas, their music more beautiful and rich than the crashing of the waves could ever be.

They kiss again, but in bursts. Their lips touch, then break apart, touch, break apart. The brief moments where their lips are pressed together are more relieving than the only slightly longer moments of fresh, salty sea air. Soon, the kisses last longer as their laughter dies in their chests, replaced with fuzzy, addicting warmth. They kiss until they need to stop for breath, still never pulling too far away from each other, never quite opening their eyes.

When Eliott finally does open his eyes, the sun has become a golden, crescent moon upon the lip of the sea. The first shadows of night are beginning to touch Lucas and Eliott, bringing the slightest bites of cold with them. Lucas shivers, his eyelids fluttering, his lip trembling.

Eliott pulls him into his embrace, letting his eyes close again. All he wants is to stay here. The world could end just beyond his eyelids and he wouldn't bother to notice. But then again, the world has shrunk into the Lucas-shaped mass quaking in his arms, and he wasn't going to let anyone touch it.

Eliott's heart finally bursts when he hears Lucas whisper, "I missed loving you."

#ttmc #skam france #elu #lucas lallemant #eliott demaury #hush bailey #my writing

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enchantedlokii · 4 years

Note

Peter gets hit by a lightning. That's it. That's the prompt. Bye💖

Lightning

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: near-death experience, language

Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark, Karen, FRIDAY

Mentioned: Richard Parker, Mary Parker, Ben Parker, May Parker, Thor Odinson

When he was younger, Peter had been terrified of storms. The sound of thunder terrified him, often sending him to his parents’ rooms and then to Ben and May’s.

He was nine years old when that fear faded and slowly grew into a sort of fondness. He had watched coverage of the Attack of New York with Ben because he wanted to see Iron Man, but he caught sight of one of the other heroes in the mix; Thor. When he asked Ben who it was, his uncle had explained that Thor was the Norse god of thunder. He even took him to the library to look at a picture book about him and his hammer, Mjolnir. And while Iron Man would always be his favorite hero, Thor became a close second.

Flash forward six years and Peter Parker is swinging through Queens in a summer thunderstorm. Being a nerd when it came to science, Peter knew how dangerous it was. He knew that the tall New York buildings were always getting struck by lightning. He had even seen it happen before on a couple of occasions.

But that didn’t stop him. He knew that crime wasn’t going to stop over some thunder. If it did, then all Thor would have to do was show up and whatever villain the Avengers happened to be fighting that day would run off or surrender.

Peter skidded a bit as he landed on the wet roof of a skyscraper. His heart was pounding with adrenaline from the robbery he had just stopped. He perched at the edge, looking down as a blur of blue and red lights appeared in the distance, hurriedly growing closer to his webbed-up opponent.

“Hey, Karen? What do you say we wrap it up and head home now?” Peter asked. It was cool for a summer night, and the rain was soaking through his suit in the places it connected. He silently wondered if he could bring that up to Tony on their next lab day. There had to be a way to make it more waterproof.

“That sounds like a good idea, Peter,” Karen replied. She was pulling up something, Peter guessed it was the radar based on the green blob, but he didn’t have time to look at it before he felt the hair rising on the back of his neck and along his arms. He didn’t have time to react before a shock of electricity struck his body.

Peter let out a scream as his muscles started to convulse, sending him into something like a seizure. Panic filled his chest as he felt his heart fluttering in an attempt to keep beating. The wind was knocked out of him and his skin burned despite the pouring rain that he could no longer hear over the ringing in his ears. His whole body was overwhelmed with a pain that didn’t ease as the light disappeared. He managed to stop convulsing after a few seconds, but his muscles still twitched, making it hard for him to move.

“K-Karen?”

Peter felt a fresh wave of panic when the AI didn’t respond. It was then that he realized he could see through his mask from holes that weren’t there a few minutes ago. The body of his suit was hanging loosely from his skin as well. It had been practically destroyed by the strike. He had no way of seeing his vitals or calling for help, and he was sure that his heart was going to give out any minutes.

Peter tried to think of a solution, but his brain was fried. His mind felt fuzzy, and he struggled to string his thoughts together. All he could think to do was to lay on his back and take shaky breaths, listening to his irregular heartbeat. A couple beats, a flutter, and then he would feel a sharp pain as it would stop for a few seconds. And each time he would feel panic because he was sure it wasn’t going to start back again. And each time he felt himself growing dizzy, nearly blacking out. He was sure that he was going to die here on the roof and no one would find him for days because his tracker would be disabled.

Still, he struggled against sleep, hoping and praying that by some miracle someone would come to his rescue. Sure enough, he heard a faint whirring noise in the distance. His ears were still ringing, making it difficult to pinpoint the noise, but he managed to focus on it as it came closer. He lifted his head weakly and caught sight of a blur of red and gold as it landed on the roof. “Kiddo?” He tried to get his blurry vision to focus as Tony left the suit and ran over to him, pulling off his damaged mask. “Oh, thank God. Stay with me, Buddy. FRI? Get a scan on him.”

“How’d you find me?” Peter mumbled, his words sounding slurred from the pain and his still-twitching muscles. “Sui’s broken.”

“That’s exactly how, Pete. It sent your last known location as it shut down,” Tony explained, a hand going to Peter’s hair. Peter smiled weakly at the touch, closing his eyes. “No, stay awake.”

“Peter is suffering severe arrhythmia,” FRIDAY announced. “It also appears that he has experienced a seizure just after the electrical shock and has severe burns on his back and chest.”

Peter heard Tony say something but the noise was blocked out as he felt himself start convulsing again. His eyes widened with panic as he looking up, trying to find assurance in his mentor’s worried eyes. “It’s okay, it’s okay,” he managed to catch. “Sh*t, FRIDAY, can you get someone to send a medical jet?”

Peter felt his vision start to go black as the convulsions slowed again. He heard Tony shouting at him to stay awake, and he tried to keep his eyes from closing, but a sharp pain ripped through his chest and sent him over the edge into a deep unconsciousness.

Tony tried not to panic as Peter’s eyes closed, but he felt his heart pounding as he pressed his fingers into the boy’s neck and couldn’t find a pulse. “No, no, no,” he muttered, shaking his head. “FRIDAY?”

He knew that he should know what to do, but he was frozen in place. Because this wasn’t supposed to happen. Peter was only fifteen, and right now his heart was beating. His lips were already starting to turn blue because he had stopped breathing. And it was all a freak accident. Something that could happen to anyone but no one ever thought would happen to them.

“Electrical shock is the suggested treatment.” FRIDAY’s voice pulled him out of his spiral.

“Of course,” he breathed. Lightning. It was electricity that stopped his heart. It made sense that it could start it again. The only probably was he didn’t have anything here— He paused, wincing as a put a hand on his own chest. “FRIDAY?”

“I believe it would work, Boss, but you know the risks,” FRIDAY replied.

He did know the risks, but that didn’t matter right now. Because if it came down to him and Peter, he knew that he couldn’t just watch as the boy died right in front of him. “Okay,” he murmured. “Okay.”

Tony tried not to tense up as he pulled the arc reactor out of place. He knew it would hurt worse in his panicked state, but he couldn’t focus on that right now. Instead, he focused on keeping steady as he brought it to Peter’s chest. He clicked a button on the side that charged it up. It made a whirring noise before throwing him back as it shocked Peter. The boy jerked before falling still again. When FRIDAY let him know that it didn’t work, he pulled himself forward to try again with the same reaction.

It was the third time when Peter coughed and took in a weak breath, his eyes flickering open. Tony let relief flood through him, nearly collapsing as his body relaxed. He saw Peter’s eyes widen as he started to come to, obviously realizing what had happened at least to some extent.

“I’m okay,” he managed to breathe out, closing his eyes as he shifted the machine back into place. His chest ached and he wanted to just lay down until the pain passed, but he forced himself to move closer to Peter. “You’re okay.”

Peter blinked at him, starting to shiver from the cold rain. He opened his mouth to speak but all that came was a pained whine. Tony frowned and weakly lifted the boy and pulled him close. He could hear the jet in the background, ready to land. “You’re going to be okay.”

Peter woke to an annoying beeping sound, his ears ringing with each tone. His whole body hurt, but it was a bit more dull than he remembered it being. His muscles felt tight, but they weren’t twitching like they had been. It took a moment for him to notice the cannula taped to his face helping him breathe or the fact that the beeping was sinked to his own heartbeat that, he realized, was still irregular but not as worrying as it had been.

“Hey, Pete.” Peter jumped as he felt a hand on his, relaxing as he turned his head and saw it was only Tony. He looked tired and there was obvious worry in his eyes, but he still smiled softly as he looked down at him. “How are you feeling?”

“Tired,” Peter murmured, closing his eyes again. “Hurts.”

Peter opened his eyes again to see Tony frown, glancing up at what Peter saw now was an IV pole. He hadn’t even noticed the needle in his arm. “I’m afraid to have them give you anything stronger,” he sighed.

“‘S okay,” Peter told him, squeezing his hand weakly. “Not as bad as it was.”

“I’m glad,” Tony replied, taking his other hand and combing through Peter’s hair with his fingers. “You scared me, Kiddo. I thought I lost you there for a bit.”

Peter frowned up at him. He caught sight of the blue glow that was visible through his mentor’s gray shirt and faintly remembered waking up on the roof with a deep pain in his chest. He had looked over and saw him returning the arc reactor to its usual spot. His tired mind hadn’t been able to put the pieces together at the time, but he realized now what must have happened.

“You coulda died,” he whimpered. He knew it sounded pitiful, but right now that didn’t matter. Because he was hurt and tired and upset and it was finally clicking that Tony had risked his own life to save him. Sure he had saved it several times in the past, but this was different.

“You would have died if I didn’t do it, Pete,” Tony told him quietly. Peter searched his eyes for any regret or uncertainty, but he didn’t find any. “I couldn’t just sit and watch that happen.”

“But you didn’t know it would work,” he murmured. He didn’t notice there were tears in his eyes until a finger wiped one from his cheek.

“That was a risk I was willing to take,” Tony replied. “Kid, I’m not sure I would want to be here if you weren’t. I know I wouldn’t if there was anything I could do that might possibly save you and I didn’t do it. I had to try.”

“B-but—”

“Shh,” Tony hushed him. “It’s worth it, Pete. I’m okay, I promise. As long as you’re okay, I’m okay.”

Peter just whimpered in reply. He felt arms wrap around him and fell into them, resting his head against Tony’s chest. He hated to cry in front of the man, but it was all too much for him to handle at the moment.

“You’re going to be okay,” Tony whispered, rubbing his back in circles. “You’re okay.”

“Th-thank you,” Peter managed to choke out, clinging on tighter. He was afraid that if he let go, he might never have this moment again. The man didn’t give out hugs like candy. They were rare, and Peter himself had never gotten one before now. He had tried not to let it bother him, but he had often found himself worrying that Tony didn’t like him. Now, he was sure that he did. He didn’t have to hug Peter for the boy to know.

“Of course,” Tony said quietly. Peter felt the man press his face into his hair. “I’m so glad you’re okay.”

Peter just nodded against his chest. He stayed there for a moment before pulling away. “Y-you probably need to go,” he said suddenly. “You didn’t have to stay with me. I know you’re super busy and—”

“Hey, hey, relax, Pete,” Tony cut him off, raising his hands defensively. “Jesus, Kid. Do you really think I’m going to leave while you’re in here? It’s not happening. Not after you almost died on me.”

Peter sighed, relaxing as the man pulled him close again. “Thanks, Mr. Stark.”

“Yeah, don’t mention it,” Tony replied. “Just do me a favor and stay inside when it storms, alright? I’m going to have a serious talk with Thor next time I see him.”

Peter chuckled hoarsely, pressing his face into the man’s shoulder. “Yeah, okay,” he smiled. “No more storms.”

#marvel #mcu #avengers #irondad #spiderson #peter parker #tony stark #karen #friday #spider man #iron man

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heartofwritiing · 4 years

Text

Lies

Paring(s): slight!Actor!Mark x fem!reader, Darkiplier x fem!reader

a/n: #16 from this prompt list. “All he ever did was use you. Why can’t you see that? “

Ive changed this fic some many time and have been writing and editing it for WEEKS so here it is! Its really rough so please ignore any mistakes I had to edit this myself and If i missed something please just ignore it lol I just really wanted to get this out! This is my take on ending 31 from a heist with markiplier hope you enjoy!

this wasn’t requested Im just in a angsty mood :/

Warning(s): Angst, crying and more angst.

The last thing I remember was walking down a hallway of portraits of people whose eyes were covered with a stripe of black paint. I kept receiving messages from an unknown number and when I reached the end of the hall the last painting had Mark standing on a staircase in a red robe that started peeling away then my vision went black. I felt sick, my head was pounding with pain and my body felt heavy. I opened my eyes to more darkness and ringing in my ears. two arms engulfed me into an embrace. I tried pushing away but I was too weak. Their voice went through my ears making me wince.

“Name?”

The voice turned into a hushed whisper, my hearing started coming back slowly making everything sound muffled.

“Please, can you hear me?” the voice pleaded.

My eyes slowly lifted open revealing nothing and I began to panic. Was I dead? No, don’t be dumb Name. The person said my name again pulling me from my thoughts and the gears in my head began to turn. I looked up and wanted to cry. Damien?

“Damien,” I whispered.

“He’s here darling,” he said reaching his hand up to tuck a strand of my hair behind my ear, a gentle touch that made my cheeks warm up.

I was confused at his words and the way he had spoken, the tone of his voice seemed sad and hurt Dameins eyes searched mine. I had been quiet for a few minutes. I was trying to process how he was here.

“It's alright you're safe now” He smiles softly.

I think he could tell I was dazed and confused but what did he mean by safe? My head is aching, pounding pain shot through my brain as I tried to remember anything. This didn’t feel real and everything just felt hazy. It felt like a dream and I had to know if I was awake.

“Kiss me,” I blurt out.

He seems shocked for a second probably thinking this wasn’t this time nor place to do this but I needed to feel him.

“I need to know this isn’t a dream or some fantasy of mine,” I tell him.

Without another word, his hand reached down under my chin to tilt my head back up. His black soulless eyes connected with mine for a moment before he pressed his lips to mine. A knot formed in my stomach when he grabbed my hips bringing our bodies closer, my breath hitched, our lips brushing against each other made my head spin. I reached up to tug on his hair and he let out a breathy moan into my mouth. Pulling away our breaths mixed and his eyes were clouded with lust. This felt real. The feeling of his chilled lips was real. He was real.

“Did that feel like a dream?” He breathed out. God. Butterflies were punching the inside of my stomach trying to break free. If I had the physical strength to lean up on my toes to kiss him again I would. All I could muster was a little nod, he chuckled

“I’ve got to get you away from here,” he spoke after a minute.

Damien took my hand in his leading me through the nothingness and my mind began to race with questions. What was going on, I needed answers and I wasn't going to be pushed aside anymore. It has always been like this. I would forget everything and be dragged around by everyone and I was fed up with the games. I stopped and yanked my hand out of Damien’s grip. He turned to me, his face frowned pure confusion across his face.

“Name, I don’t have the time to explain-”

“No!” I shout. I was tired of being scared

“I want to know what's going on, no more lies or secrets Damien.” I was so frustrated, tears started welling up in my eyes.

Damien sighed, clenching his fists, trying to suppress his anger. He walked closer to me and placed his hands on the sides of my face and everything turned white. Flashes of people, memories flooded through seeing a mansion and then a group of people playing poker. the night of Mark’s poker game, things went horribly wrong. The whole event was a trap in order for him to get revenge. I died. He took over my body, throwing my soul into a mirror and prisoning me for a hundred years. until Mark had found me and erased my memories replacing them with one of me and him together. Lastly, I saw how Damien became this new form he called himself Dark and that Damien was gone forever but he still had his memories.

My vision returned to see Dark standing away from me now everything was coming back into my brain slowly. My mouth fell open and I remembered, Damien was the love of my life, and to hear that he was dead broke my heart. I started to cry again, grief, sadness, and anger rolled into one coming out as a sob. How could I forget?

“For all these years I thought you were gone,” His voice was trembling.

I stared at him as he stood a few feet away from me, tears rolled down his grey cheeks and onto his white suit.

“I never forgave myself for killing you,”

“I don’t understand why Mark would do all of this,” I said, but I understood it completely. I just didn’t want to accept the fact Mark became mad with jealousy and wanted to make William miserable.

“He’s our friend. Friends would never do anything like this,” my bottom lip started quivering.

“He wouldn’t, he-”

Dark said my name in a hushed whisper and grabbed my shoulders slightly causing me to look up at him as he began to speak.

“I know it’s hard to understand any of this but, he’s been manipulating you, Making you forget everything, Forget me.” He said. “Mark is not a good person and I have to get you away from him.”

I didn’t want to accept what Mark had done. Mark had been there for me when we were kids and always have been so close, I wanted to help him. Dark had explained that Mark’s mansion overtime began to host some sort of entity to put ideas into his head, and it conjured up this idea of getting all the people who wronged Mark together to get revenge. I wanted to help my friend even if he was being controlled. I could tell Dark was reading my thoughts. I could see it in his eyes, he clenched his jaw screwing his eyes shut.

He inhaled before he opened his mouth to speak.

“You’re not actually considering helping him.” His teeth grit. “After what he’s done, to you, to all of us.” His voice raises and the light around his form pules red. I try not to think about it, maybe it was just this place or my eyes tricking me.

“He’s our friend, Damien,” I plead.

His jaw clenched.

“That’s not my name anymore,” He said bitterly.

I was shocked at his words. He was angry with me, now I really knew Damien was gone.

“ALL HE EVER DID WAS USE YOU. WHY CAN’T YOU SEE THAT!?!” Dark yelled, suddenly gripping my arms harshly.

I jumped, the whole area around us shakes and feels like it's cracking, falling apart at his outburst. Darks aura was buzzing and glowing red showing off his anger and frustration. After a moment his body relaxed and his shoulders dropped, he mumbled an apology I barely heard and stood up straight. Dark struggled to stand when he fell backward suddenly, I grabbed his hands so he didn’t hit the ground trying to keep him on his feet but something was pulling to let my grip go.

I squeaked when Dark fell back and yanked me with him, his back hit the floor with a thud that echoed and our chests collided. I groaned and slowly sat up on his thighs our hands still laced together as he sat up

“Its Mark, he knows I’m with you,” His eyes stared into mine and I could’ve sworn for a moment that they shifted into a dark brown color. My heart swelled thinking that those were Damiens eyes looking through. “He’s trying to separate us again.”

“I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry,” he spoke in a regretful tone. “This is the only way I’ll ever be able to see you again,” Dark lifted his hands to the sides of my head again, his eyelids closing in concentration. I was bracing myself for what was about to happen and soon sleep began to take over my body and my eyes fell closed.

Dark cradled a unconscious Name against his chest stroking her hair every few seconds. He knew it made her calm even if she wasn’t conscious, he knew she could feel his presence and the feeling of his fingers in her hair. He sat there in the darkness like for the past hundred years being stuck in his own head. Names body began to disappear and Dark was alone; she was with Mark now and would be until he found her again. And could finally take her to a safe place forever. He looked up into the void, praying she would be safe soon.

I stood in front of the museum beside Mark yawning and trying to fight my eyes shutting. I looked down at my timer watch and the numbers 2:30 am looked back at me. I looked down at my satchel and belt making sure I had all my tools and my grappling hook was secured to my hip. I sighed before turning to Mark to see him checking his equipment as well.

“Why are we doing this again?” I ask.

Mark’s head lifts to catch my eyes for a second then going back down.

“You said you wanted to go on another adventure right?” He reminds me.

A heist at almost three in the morning when I should have been asleep was not what I meant by going on a crazy adventurer. Going on a trip to Europe like we’ve always talked about maybe but not the local museum in the town we lived in. Mark said that what we were stealing had some importance to it so I was willing to help my friend out.

“Yeah but I’m tired, you should have at least made me coffee before we left so I could actually function.” I scowl. He shakes his head and laughs.

Mark takes his grappling hook off his belt and walks towards the brick building raising his arm he pulls the trigger and the hook goes flying up and catching the ledge of the roof. I do the same and we both walk up the side of the building tiring to be as quiet as possible walking to a small open vent that leads into the museum. I follow Mark’s lead and begin to think this was a bad idea and should’ve kept my mouth shut last week but continued.

#actor!mark #Darkiplier #x reader #who killed markiplier #a heist with markiplier #actor!mark x reader #darkiplier x reader #fanfiction

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anythingandeverything1d · 4 years

Text

Falling (part 2)

Part 1: https://anythingandeverything1d.tumblr.com/post/615981743290400768/falling

You looked at your watch, the concert was in a few hours and you instantly ran upstairs to get ready, fighting back the logic your brain warned you about and following your heart. You tore your closet open looking for the perfect outfit, but for what occasion. For the first time in months you softly smiled and let yourself think about the possibility of Harry. The nights that you missed so much, his soft hair in your fingers, his dimples, the way he kissed you, the way he laughed and told horrible jokes, all of it. “Ughhh” you moaned leaning back against the wall. “What am I getting myself into?”

30 minutes later and you had thrown almost every article of clothing you owned onto your bedroom floor. You had decided on black skinny jeans, a white crop top, and your hair had been thrown into a half bun (one of Harry’s favorite looks on you) “ugh what have I actually become” you mumbled to yourself while putting on some hot pink lip gloss and grabbing your jacket off the door. You grabbed the envelope with the tickets and opened the door revealing your friend. She looked you up and down with a suspicious glance.

“Where are you going?”

“Uhh nowhere...”

“Nowhere?”

“Yep, I better get going..” She grabbed your wrist and stopped you. “You're going nowhere looking like that? Really? You expect me to believe that...” You glanced at the envelope quickly and nodded trying to continue out the door. “Whats this?” She took the envelope from your hand and peered inside. “Oh my god. You are not. Theres no way you are going to Harry’s concert..”

“I need to. Okay. I need to know. I need closure.” You ranted on a quick explanation of seeing him at the gas station and the note on the back of the ticket and sighed. “You don't understand...I need to go. I need to move on.”

“Fine then we are going together. There’s no way Im letting you make a stupid rash decision when he bats those eyes and smiles at you. Nope. If you're doing this, we are doing it together.” And with that you smiled, grabbed her hand and pulled her to the car.

Harry’s POV:

Harry was pacing the dressing room. His mind was moving a million miles a minute but yet everything was focused on one thing. You. He was sweating, so nervous about what the night would bring. He had specifically chosen the pink suit you had picked out for him so long ago. Paired with the black button down he wore on your first date. He picked the outfit specifically for you tonight and he hoped it would work. Of course he hadn’t ever stopped thinking of you, but seeing you at the gas station had sealed the deal. He needed you back in his life. Even as a friend. He knew he had screwed up. It had only been a few months without you but he was crumbling slowly. He was the one who fucked everything up. He hadn’t been present in the relationship for a while. He had dragged you along for the journey. He would leave and not call or text. And then there was Sarah. He never wanted to cheat but after drinking too much it had happened and of course you had been there to see it happen. Sarah was great and Harry had flirted for a while...but there wasn’t a spark. There wasn't anything that was there when you were in his life. He knew the moment you said goodbye that he had ruined the best thing in his life. He got lucky his show was in town tonight and even more lucky that you still lived in the same apartment complex. He left the tickets and passes but had no idea if you would even show up. He just prayed. “Please (y/n)...please come...I need you..” he mumbled with his head down.

“What?” Mitch asked walking in.

“Nothing.” Harry said looking up.

“Well 20 minutes till showtime.”

“Okay. Hey is there anyone backstage looking for me or anyone using a backstage pass left in my name?” Harry asked anxiously.

“No. Not that I know of anyone. Who are you expecting Styles..a girl?” He wiggled his eyebrows and laughed as Clare, Sarah, and Adam walked in.

“Oh what’s going on. What are we teasing Harry about now?” Clare asked.

“A girl.” Mitch answered.

“Shut up guys.” Harry mumbled looking at Sarah. She had agreed friends was better and he was glad because he felt nothing but that. It was still a little awkward though. “Let’s just go. It’ll be great right? We can do this.”

Your POV:

You and your friend has pushed up to the front where the seats were and you were shaking you were so nervous. Of course everyone acknowledged you as you walked in so it took forever to find your seats but luckily the lights were dimming as you sat down. Smoke rolled off the stage and everyone cheered. You stood up slowly feeling a little light headed. You looked up and he was there. His head down. His pink suit. Hair pushed back in a wave and a small smile in the corner of his mouth. It was too much. You pushed back a few rows to where you were no longer visible and sat down collecting yourself. You just listened to the music. He was amazing. His album was amazing...of course you already knew that because you had listened the moment it was released. He really was a super star. You were proud too because he had waited for this moment for years.

Towards the end of the concert Harry had begun searching the crowd with his eyes. Scanning row by row until he found you. His green eyes locked on yours. His mouth slight parted and his breathing was heavy from the last song. He curved his mouth up into a smile, his eyes never leaving yours. “There’s a song I’ve been working on. I decided tonight to play it. I hope you all enjoy, Ive worked hard on it.” He nodded to the band behind him and the music started.

“I’m in my bed. And you're not here. And there's no one to blame but the drink and my wandering hands. Forget what I said. Its not what I meant. And I can't take it back. I can't unpack the baggage you left.” His eyes never strayed from yours. You knew what was happening. There were a few songs on the album about you, but this was different. Your eyes clouded with tears and you couldn't breathe. “What am I now, What am I now, What if I’m someone I don't want around. I’m falling again, I’m falling again, I’m falling.” Harry broke eye contact and looked down. Pouring himself into the words of the songs. You sat on the floor and put your head between your legs trying to breathe. Your friend was rubbing your back. Harry got to the end of the song “What if I’m down? What if I’m out? What if I’m someone you won't talk about? Im falling again, Im falling again, I’m falling.” And with that he bowed and ran off stage. The crowd of people slowly began clearing and you were able to breathe a little better.

“Want to go home now?” your friend asked still slightly concerned at how pale your face was. You shook your head and stood up, pulling the backstage pass out. You ran to the guard and showed him before following him back. It was only a minute before you saw the pink suit. It stood out in a crowd very easily.

“Harry Edward Styles!” you shout, tears already forming in your eyes. He turns quickly and looks at you slightly stunned, and you continue forward pointing a finger at him. “What the hell was that?” You asked. He looked unsure of what to say. Finally he looked at you and sighed.

“That was my new song. What else would it be?” He sarcastically replied.

You didn’t know what else to say. You just stared at him, your nostrils flaring and his eyes intently watching your every move. Your friend came forward and grabbed your hand. “Come on (y/n), you don't need this.” She gently pulled you towards the door.

“No.” His hand went out and grabbed your other wrist. “We need to talk.” He looked you in the eyes. “Thats why you're here right? Why else would you come?” His tone was harsh and you had no idea why. You looked at him and then at your friend. Your head was spinning again and you felt like you needed to sit down. You reached for the floor and felt yourself falling . “(y/n)!” Harry’s voice now very concerned shouted. Your eyes fluttered close and you hit the floor.

Harry’s POV:

Harry didn’t know why he was being mean. He felt angry that you came back just to attack the song he had written about her. That he had poured so much energy and emotion into. When you had looked at him, he saw a slight fear in your eyes. You were scared of him and he didn’t want that. He saw you reach for the floor and your eyes close. He knew this, you were fainting. It was something that had happened a few time in the past. Scared him to death very time. This was no exception. He tried to catch your head and cushion the fall. You had hit the floor and he had immediately pulled you onto his lap and rocked you slowly. “(y/n) wake up...youre okay. Just please open your eyes...” He touched his forehead to yours and breathed slowly.

“This is your fault Styles.” your friend remarked kneeling next to him. “You overwhelmed her. You shouldn’t have even given her tickets. You nearly killed her two months ago. You don't even deserve the chance to speak to her.”

“(y/n)...open your eyes. You’re okay.” Harry ignored your friends comments and hummed softly, his eyes closed and his head against yours.

Your POV:

Your eyes slowly opened and you heard a low and soft humming. Your head was pounding and you were acutely aware of arms wrapped tightly around you. You looked up and saw anxious green eyes staring into yours. Harry let out a shaky deep breath and moved his head back. You awkwardly climbed out of his arms and attempted to stand. You wobbled a bit and he immediately grabbed on and steadied you. You looked at your friend who was watching Harry very closely. “(y/n) can we please talk...alone.” he mumbled looking at your friend. You nodded your head, earning a sigh of relief from him. You looked at your friend telling her it was okay and let Harry pull you into his dressing room. He sat you on the couch and stood in front of you, running his fingers through his hair. “I don't even know where to start...”

“How about at the part where you left these tickets on my porch..” you grumbled watching him.

“I needed you here. I couldn’t get you out of my head after the gas station. It’s been so long...theres so much I’ve wanted to tell you but I couldn't because you blocked my calls.”

“Yeah because you cheated on me Harry. After 5 years?! You broke everything we had built together. All for some random girl?” You were annoyed but when you looked at him tears were falling down his cheeks and that made you sad. You didn’t want him to be upset. He had taken the jacket off and thrown it on a chair in the corner.

“I know....I know I ruined everything. It wasn't supposed to happen, it was a dumb mistake and I will forever regret it. The minute I saw you...I knew. I knew I had ruined the best thing in my life. There was never anything between me and her it was always just a drunk mistake. When you said goodbye I nearly lost it. I knew I would never love anyone but you. I haven't even looked a girl since that night. You're the only one I ever needed. I am so so so very sorry.I know I can’t take anything back but I need you. I can’t let you go, not again.” Your eyes were tearing up again and he reached up to wipe them away. His fingers rubbed my jaw and he leaned closer. You were suddenly very aware of him, his smell, everything. You leaned closer breathing faster and his lips cautiously met yours. You gave in. You fell against him and his hand pulled you unbearably close. He kissed you in a way that made you drown in him. He made the kiss deeper, adding more force and biting down on your lip. You moaned, opening your lips more allowing his tongue inside of your mouth. You sat up and ran your fingers through his hair, playing with the curls at the base of his neck while he trailed fingers up your back. If you died right now, you would be content. This moment was everything your body had been aching for the past two months. You grabbed the buttons on his shirt and went to pull it off. He pushed you back onto the cushions of the couch, your legs wrapped tightly around his waist. “Fuck I missed you (y/n).” He breathed into your ear before biting the soft skin on your neck. Yikes that was going to bruise for sure...

“I missed you too Harry” you managed before turning his head and bringing his lips back to yours. He kissed you like his life depended on it. Like there was nothing else he needed but you. You matched his energy. He had your shirt pulled almost over your head when there was a knock at the door and in walked a girl. She looked familiar..the hair... Harry looked up, his cheeks bright red. You sat up, pulling your shirt down and looking from her to Harry.

“Sarah.” Harry managed while trying to catch his breath. “Is everything okay?” He looked anxious.

You looked at her again and it hit you. “Sarah?” You looked at Harry again with pain in your eyes.

“(y/n)....wait. It’s, It’s not what you think..” He grabbed your hand as you stood up.

“She’s in your band?” You were crying again. Sarah was uncomfortable and moving towards the door.

“Im going to go...I’ll catch you later Harry.” she left closing you back in the room with Harry. You turned toward him.

“Really?” You said again looking at him.

“Like I said before, she was a mistake. I was drunk, she was drunk and that's all there is. There is absolutely nothing between us. I swear.” He stood up and walked towards you again. “(y/n), love, theres nothing between me and her. Its strictly work related.”

“Did you kiss her after we broke up? Did the two of you...” You asked staring at him.

He looked down and shifted uncomfortably, giving you your answer. You wanted an answer though. “Harry. Did. You. Have. Sex. With. Her.”

“She kissed me...we...we just.... The next morning. But I swear I broke it off after that. I told her the truth. There was no feeling. There was nothing. You're all I could think of. I promise on my mums life there is nothing between us. There never will be.” Harry grabbed your hand and pulled you into his arms. He held you while you cried, rubbing your back.

“I can't do this right now Harry. I really can’t. I...I need to go.” You pushed him away and walked to the door. Turning one last time you looked at him, his eyes shining with tears and you left.

---------------

What do you guys think?? Part 3?? Let me know! xoxo

#one direction #one direction fanfiction #one direction imagines #Harry Styles #harry styles fanfiction #harrystyles #louis tomlinson #liam payne #Niall Horan #falling

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myhockeyworld87 · 5 years

Text

Choices - Tyler Seguin/Jamie Benn - Part 9

Word Count: 1597

POV: Reader

Warnings: language

Notes: So again this was another close vote that came down to literally one vote. Hope you guys enjoy this part. Peace, Love, Hugs and Happy New Year to you all!!!

Tyler’s touch was so soothing and loving; his fingers just caressing your back, as they made your way up to your bra clasp. His lips moved down to the sweet spot on your neck and you melted into him. You’re ready to give yourself over to him and magical hands. Just as you let out a moan, a loud crash sounded from the front street. “What the…?”

“Oh my god, what was that?” You asked Tyler, as he was asking the same question; in the background you could hear the constant sound of a car horn. “That didn’t sound good.” He lifted you off his lap and the two of you headed to the door, to see what the commotion was all about. “That’s Jamie’s car.” You broke out into a run, as your feet carried you across the lawn to Jamie.

His vehicle was crushed up against one of the giant oaks across the street; his body laying limp on the steering wheel. Another vehicle sped away; you could see the front fender hanging on the ground. It was the same car that was parked in Tyler’s driveway when you arrived, but there was no time to worry about them right now; your sole focus was on Jamie. You reached the car, but couldn’t open the door. It had been jammed on impact. Repeatedly you knocked on the window, trying to get Jamie’s attention. “Jame…Jamie…hun can you hear me?”

“Jamie!” Tyler shouted. He ran around to the other side, to see if he could open the passenger door. “(Y/N), call 911! Now!” Tyler’s voice was panicked, he had seen something you hadn’t and your heart stopped beating.

“Ty, what’s wrong?” you said it on instinct, as you took your phone out of your pocket and called for an ambulance.

“Just call.” He was struggling with the door, but he finally opened it.

The operator finally picked up. “Yes, I need an ambulance. There’s been an accident.” You continued to give all the pertinent details, as the handler told you to stay on the line until the ambulance arrived. Tyler was in the passenger’s seat now, trying to wake his captain. You moved over to that side of the vehicle, and your stomach turned; there was so much blood. Tyler was taking off his shirt, trying to stop the bleeding; though at the moment you couldn’t tell exactly where the injury was. Jamie stirred just then. His eyes fluttering open. “Jamie.”

He let out a groan, then yelled louder from the pain. “Don’t move buddy, the ambulance will be here any minute.” Tyler was trying to keep him calm. “You’re gonna be ok Chubbs. I got you man.”

“Fuck, man…my leg…it hurts so bad.”

Sirens sounded in the distance, becoming louder as they drew near. “Hang on Jame.” You yelled to him over Tyler.

“(Y/N).” His trembling hand reached out and you clasp it in yours. “It’s going to be ok Jame. I’m right here.”

Firetrucks pulled up then, followed closely by an ambulance. “Ma’am, we need you to move out of the way, so we can help him.” He was pulling on your shoulders, yet you didn’t want to let go of Jamie. “Ma’am, please.”

“(Y/N), you have to let go and let them do their job.” It was Tyler’s voice that broke through the fog.

“I’m going to stay right here, Jame. I’ll be right here if you need me.” You squeezed his hand, one last time, before his fingers slipped from your grasp. Tyler jumped out of the car, as soon as you stepped back; to let the paramedic in. He pulled you into his embrace, as small sob escaped you. You felt so helpless standing there and not being able to help him. The paramedics were assessing him, as the firefighters worked on a way to extract him from the vehicle. Before you knew what was happening, they were throwing a blanket over Jamie and bringing the Jaws of life to extricate him. Firefighters, pushed both you and Tyler further away from Jamie, and it broke your heart.

“Mr. Seguin, we need to get your statements.” A police officer came over to both you and Tyler. There was no way you wanted to do this right now; you were too focused on what was happening to Jamie to care about giving the details or what you saw.

Tyler started to give the details of what you both knew; however, he missed the most important part. “It was Kathleen.” You interrupted him. “She was the one who hit Jamie’s car and then drove away. Check her car. Her whole front bumper is missing.”

Tyler stopped you before you could say anymore. “(Y/N), you can’t be certain it was Kathleen. I think you’re making a huge assumption.”

“I’m not. Her car was parked in your driveway when I got here. That same car, drove away from the accident with the front wrecked. I don’t know her last name. Tyler tell them what her last name is.” She needed to be held responsible for what she’d done to Jamie.

“You’re distraught over the accident. I’m sorry, officer…”

“Campbell.”

“Well Officer Campbell. I’m not sure what my girlfriend here saw, but it couldn’t have been Kathleen.”

“All the same Mr. Seguin, we should check out any lead that we have. So if you could just provide me with this Kathleen woman’s name and address that would be extremely helpful.”

“I really don’t think that’s necessary.” Why was Tyler covering for the bitch? You wanted to scream at him, but just then they got Jamie out of the vehicle and you rushed over to him; leaving Tyler to deal with the police.

“Jamie, I’m right here.”

He reached for your hand again. The paramedics continued to work on him for a few seconds, then started moving the gurney to the ambulance. “Ma’am we need to go to the hospital. If you’re not family, you’ll need to stay here.”

Without any thought at all, you said. “I’m his girlfriend. Can I go with him?”

He nodded his agreement, before saying. “Jump in, just please stay back so we can work on him.”

“Of course.” You stepped up into the vehicle, then glanced back at Tyler; his face unreadable, but he wasn’t your concern at the moment. As soon as they loaded Jamie in, you grasped his hand in yours again; softly caressing your thumb back and forth over his skin. Silently you sent a prayer up to God, asking Him to watch over Jamie. The ride to the hospital felt endless, though in reality it only took minutes.

They ushered Jamie into the emergency room and you quickly followed behind. A flurry of activity happened all around you, as you stood back and watched both doctors and nurses work on him. Someone yelled for x-ray and ultrasound, to make sure there was no internal bleeding. IVs were being put in to him, so he could receive something for the pain. You watched everything in stunned silence; until you heard his weak voice call for you. “(Y/N)…(Y/N)…where is she?”

“I’m right here Jamie.” You tried to wedge your way through the crowd of doctors so that he could at least see you, since you couldn’t touch him.

“(Y/N)…I need you.” His weak plea tore at your heart, as you stood there helpless. Finally, a nurse grabbed you and placed you up by his head, out of the way of the doctors running an ultrasound on his abdomen. There was blood all over his beautiful face; his nose definitely broken. You ran your fingers through his matted hair. A cut to his forehead had blood all through his dark locks. “(Y/N)…is that you.”

“Yes, Jame. I’m right here….I’m right beside you babe.” His head was locked into a C-spine collar still, so you were out of his line of vision.

“What happened?”

“You were in a car accident, but you’re going to be ok.” You prayed that was true.

“You won’t leave…will you?”

“No Jamie, I’m not going anywhere.”

“Ma’am we’re going to have to take him to CT now.” The nurse who had brought you close to Jamie, broke into your conversation.

“Can I go with him?”

Obviously, the nurses and doctors knew who he was, for the next thing she said was, “We don’t normally allow that, but I think we can make an exception in this case.”

“Thank you.”

It was determined rather quickly that he had no internal injuries and that everything was fine with his spine. He went through a series of x-rays on his leg as well. As they wheeled him back into the ER, you saw Tyler waiting for you both by the room, that was Jamie’s. You stopped to talk to him as they continued to work on Jamie in the room. “How is he?”

“He’s doing better. Nothing definitive yet though.” He drew you into a hug, which you willing accepted. “Ty…I’m sorry I just left…”

“Don’t worry about it. He needs you; I get it.” You breathed a sigh of relief. “Can we talk about what I said to the police about Kathleen?”

You crossed your arms over your chest, sure this explanation would be one you wanted to hear. “Alright.”

“(Y/N),” it was Jamie calling for you.

****************************************************************************************

Time to make a choice.

A) Go see Jamie. He needs you more than Tyler does right now.

B) Tell Jamie you’ll be right there and hear Tyler’s explanation.

C) Your phone rings, answer it and see who it is.

#Choices series Tyler Seguin Jamie Benn #tyler seguin #tyler seguin imagine #tyler seguin imagines #jamie benn #jamie benn imagine #jamie benn imagines #nhl imagines #nhl imagine #nhl fanfic #hockey imagines #hockey imagine #hockey fanfiction #dallas stars imagine #dallas stars imagines

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thehomeforthehopelessromantics · 5 years

Text

After all this time Part IV:

Last part! Credits to @jermeeeeee for helping me figure out the title. Hope you enjoy!

(Y/N)’s POV

I could hear the headlines now. College girl confronted by love of her life; dies of a lack of oxygen before he can really say anything.

At least it’ll be an interesting story.

“Can I come in?” Blu asked, staring at me with those big hopeful eyes. I wanted to say something but all I could do was muster up a hum and step out of the way so he could enter. “This place hasn’t changed at all, huh?” He looked back at me with a smile that was almost friendly and I didn’t know how much more of this I could take. He slipped off his jacket and took off his shoes, putting them with the rest of them and I had to remind myself that this wasn’t normal anymore. That he hadn’t been in my apartment for over a year now. So why does he look like he still belongs here?

“Are you gonna come talk to me or just stare?” He joked with a teasing smile. Shaking my head in an attempt to clear it, I shut the door and went past him to sit on the chair in the living room. It was dreadfully uncomfortable and existed in our living room purely for aesthetics (which Neo claims is super important) but right now I don’t know if I could stomach sitting next to him on the couch so the chair it is.

He sat down on the couch before looking at me and laughing lightly, “I know that it’s been a while since we’ve been face to face like this but you can try not to look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“It’s just...” I clenched my jaw, staring at him still. Trying to remember a time when he wasn’t existing in my apartment and failing miserably. “It’s weird. Having you here again. It feels like-“

“Like we never broke up?”

“Yeah,” I whispered, sinking into the chair, wishing it would swallow me whole. His friendly demeanor slipped away as he shifted to sit on the edge of the couch, arms hanging over his knees as he leaned toward me.

“(Y/N), why did we break up?”

Because I’m a coward. Because I was terrified. Because I’m not good for you.

“You know why we broke up,” I said lowly, noticing that my music had stopped playing. The playlist must have ended. A part of me wanted to go and play more music just so there won’t be the silence that surrounds us right now.

“No, actually,” he shook his head. “I don’t.”

I could tell he was waiting for my to say something but I couldn’t even move. My heart was pounding and my palms were sweaty. I felt like I was taking up too much space in the room and wanted nothing more but to shrink.

“I... I remember you saying that it wasn’t working anymore. That we weren’t working anymore. I’d never had something chill me to the core like hearing you say that. But as many times as I asked you never told me why we weren’t working anymore.”

Because we worked. We worked so well and I couldn’t lie well enough to give reasons.

“Because it wasn’t any of your concern,” I heard the icy words roll off my lips, surprised by the fact that my voice wasn’t shaking even though every other part of me was.

“Not any of my-“ he gaped, eyes widening. “You stood there and ripped my heart out of my chest and can sit there and say I didn’t deserve a reason why?” He almost yelled, getting increasing more frustrated the longer he spoke. “Besides, what does it matter if you tell me now? We’re not together anymore regardless.”

He huffed, pouting slightly while staring at his palms and all I wanted to do was get up and curl into him and never let him go again. I stayed quiet, trying to think of what to say next and all I could come up with was the truth. “I wasn’t good for you,” I whispered, silently hoping he didn’t hear me.

I saw a puzzled look cross his face as he looked up at me. “What?”

Clearing my throat, I shifted so my legs were under me in the chair. “I just wasn’t any good for you, Blu. We both know that.”

“Bullshit,” he spat, looking more offended than I anticipated. “If you’re gonna lie to me at least make it believable.” My jaw dropped. The first time I’m telling him the truth about what happened and now I’m being called a liar?!

“Whoa whoa whoa, I don’t know who you think you’re talking to but it sure as hell isn’t me,” I snapped, glaring at him. “Lose the attitude.”

“Stop lying to me and maybe I won’t have an attitude.”

“What makes you think I’m lying to you?”

“Because that’s bull. Everyone knows that you were one of the best things that ever happened to me.”

“That doesn’t mean I was ever good for you.” Our eyes met in a hard stare off and slowly I saw his face morph into one of shock.

“Oh my god you actually believe that, don’t you?”

“Would I have said it if I didn’t?” I crossed my arms over my chest and turned my head to stare at a far point on the wall. “I’m flighty and I change my mind too fast. You would’ve only ended up hurt.”

“I did get hurt,” he grumbled.

“More hurt,” I turned to look at him, emphasizing my point. “I’m not the kind of girl you need, Blu. You need consistency and dependability and I’m always gonna be scared that I’m gonna wake up and feel something different than when I went to sleep and I’m gonna hate myself for hurting you like that.”

“As if you didn’t already?” He exclaimed, and I clamped my jaw shut, forcing myself to stay quiet. “When we went to sleep that night you loved me and when we woke up suddenly we weren’t working.” I kept a blank face, praying that he wouldn’t see right through me. “That is what actually happened right?” His voice lowered, no longer yelling but genuinely inquiring. I must have been silent for too long cause the next thing out of his mouth was, “Dammit, (Y/N), say something.”

“That’s not what happened,” I mumbled, moving my eyes down to the floor. “I didn’t just wake up and not want you anymore. I’m still stunned that you believed that I did.”

“You broke my heart and the whole time you still wanted me?” he asked, getting angry all over again, voice rising. “Why would you do that to yourself? To me?” “There was nothing else I could do!” I said exasperatedly, wishing that he would just understand and let it go.

“You could’ve told me the truth!” He stood to his feet, eyes blazing as he stared down at me

“And say what Blu?” I yelled back, moving so I was standing too with my hands on my hips, totally unaffected by the height difference between us. “How on earth was I supposed to tell you I want you, but I’m leaving?” “Just like that!” “You would never have let me walk out that door!”

“I’m still mad at myself for letting you leave at all!”

“Why?” I screamed in frustration, my hand tearing through my curls. “Why are you still so hung up on me?” “Because I still want you!”

“After all this time?!”

“Yes!” He said before taking a deep breath. “I don’t know why you’re not getting this. For me it’s always gonna be you.”

“Bullshit,” I rolled my eyes, turning and going into my room with him hot on my heels.

“It’s not bullshit.” I felt his hand slip around my arm and tug me back to look at him. “Unlike you I’m not a liar.” I saw the regret on his face the second the words left his mouth, but you couldn’t have convinced me to care. Scowling, I ripped my arm from his grasp before muttering a quick, “Get the fuck out.”

Tearing at my clothes, I looked for something to slip on. I needed to get out of here, fast. “I’m not going anywhere, (Y/N).” His hands came out on either side of me, stopping my frantic search for something to put on. “What are you doing?” “Leaving.” I tore myself away from him, not liking the warmth that came along with him being that close to me. Screw the clothes. Where are my shoes? I slipped on my sneakers and tried to grab my keys, but they were snatched from my grasp. If looks could kill he’d be 6 feet under by now. “What?”

“You’re not leaving.” He held the keys above his head as I tried to reach for them. “Stop acting like I won’t climb you to get my keys back. Hand em over,” I commanded, feeling foolish for jumping for them at all.

“If you want ‘em back you’re gonna have to climb me then,” he shrugged. “I’m not leaving.”

“God, what do you want?” I stomped out of frustration, letting out a growl. Maybe I was being childish and throwing a tantrum, but he came into my apartment and started yelling. It’s fair game, now.

“I just want you to talk to me,” he said pleadingly, free hand reaching out for me, but I moved out of the way. “(Y/N), please.”

“Please what?” I crossed my arms, giving him a pissed off stare.

“Talk to me,” he begged. “Just tell me what’s going on in your head when you think of me.”

“Right now? All I can think is that I want you to shut up and get out of my apartment before I do something stupid like tell you I’m still in love with you.” I rolled my eyes before freezing. Oh. Shit.

“What did you just-” “No.” I said firmly, looking at his face that was riddled with shock and surprise and happiness. “No, you didn’t hear that. That didn’t happen.”

“Baby-” “Don’t fucking call me that,” I screamed pitifully, screwing my eyes shut. I heard him set the keys down and take soft steps closer to me. I wanted to protest, but I knew if I moved an inch I’d snap and everything would come pouring out of me and I’d kiss him and ruin this more than I already have.

I felt a tentative hand place itself on my waist, pulling me closer. I just squeezed my eyes tighter. “Can you open your eyes please?” I shook my head stiffly, refusing to budge. I heard him let out a sigh before I felt his lips press themselves on my forehead. I sucked in a sharp breath. “Please?” I shook my head again, softer this time. His lips pressed a soft kiss to each of my cheeks, muttering a ‘please?’ in between. His face came to hover dangerously close to mine, foreheads pressed together. Out of curiosity and the need to find out if he still looked as breathtaking as I remember up close, I opened my eyes to see him staring at me adoringly. “You still love me?” He asked softly, a small smile on his face.

“I shouldn’t,” I whispered, finally letting myself give in and relax under his touch.

“But you do?”

“Yeah... yeah I do.” I brought my hands up to touch his chest, feeling his racing heartbeat under my palms.

“(Y/N)...” he started with a shaky breath. “I know that this might be a lot for me to ask right now, but I have to try or I’m gonna scream.” He swallowed thickly, eyes searching for mine. “Can I kiss you?”

Before I could stop myself I was muttering a soft, “God, please.”

Without a second thought his lips crashed on mine and he groaned instantly, bringing me closer. Dizzily I moved to wrap my arms around his neck, kissing him back hungrily, having forgotten how good he felt pressed against me. I felt his tongue swipe against my bottom lip, asking for entrance, but I denied just to mess with him. Feeling him grin against my lips, he moved a hand from my waist to wrapped around my neck. Unintentionally I gasped, giving him all the time he needed to invade my mouth.

My hands found his hair and tangled themselves in it, wanting nothing more in the world than to be closer to him. Teasingly, I bit down on his bottom lip which lead him to wince, while his grip on me tightened.

He mumbled a quick, ”Jump,” between kisses and I happily complied. He caught me and my legs wrapped themselves around him while his hands held me under my thighs, preventing me from dropping. Lips still attached to mine, he walked us to the bed and placed me down on it, climbing on top of me.

“You taste,” he mumbled, moving down to my neck, “exactly like,” he bit down, causing a moan to escape my lips, “I remembered.” He licked a stripe up my neck and my skin felt like it was burning and every part of me was buzzing.

“Oh yeah? And what do I taste like?” I tried to chuckle but it quickly turned into a heady moan as he found my sweet spot and my back arched into him.

Grinning against my skin, he laughed lightly before making his way back up to my face, a teasing smile on his lips. “Peaches,” was all he said before he was kissing me again. I tried to touch him, but my hands were quickly grabbed and pinned above my head. “Keep them here,” he ordered, positioning himself between my legs and grinding down slightly as I hit my lip to contain whatever unholy sound was trying to pass through my lips. “Got it?”

I shook my head and he grinned wickedly. “Good girl.” And just like that he was kissing me again. Licking into my mouth and sucking on my bottom lip like there was nothing else in the world he’d rather be doing. He moved my legs to wrap around his waist and gripped my hips so tightly, I was sure it was gonna leave bruises, but I couldn’t find it in me to mind. It was blissful sensory overload and the best (and worst part) was I couldn’t touch him. I was completely at the mercy of what he wanted and everything about that excited me. He ground into me again and we both groaned into the other’s mouth. Maybe this was too much, but how could I care when he felt this good?

His lips parted from mine, both of us heaving to try to fill our lungs with air. I looked up into his eyes and saw that his pupils were totally blown out and he was eyeing me with lust oozing off of him. He started to say something when the shrill of my phone pierced the air. Groaning for an entirely different reason this he dropped his head into my neck as I reached over for the phone (which was proving to be more difficult than I thought with him practically lying on top of me.) “Don’t answer it,” he pleaded, moving his head back up so I could see the pout on his face. “Tell whoever it is to go to hell and let’s just kiss some more.”

That sounded like an offer that was too good to refuse but one look at the caller and I knew I couldn’t. “It’s Neo, I have to answer it.”

Begrudgingly he climbed off of me, letting me lie back against the pillows to take the call. “Hello?” I answered as Blue leaned down, pressing kisses up and down my mostly exposed leg. It was distracting to say the least but I tried to focus on what Neo was saying instead of the boy whose lips were pressed against my skin.

“Hey girlie, what you up to?” He asked happily and I blushed.

“Just y’know, having some fun,” I said and Blu grinned up at me, before coming up to whisper in my ear,

“If I’m the fun you’re having, you can have me anytime.” He then procceeded to place a kiss underneath my ear.

“That’s cool, so would you mind if I didn’t come home tonight?”

“Didn’t come home?” I questioned, grabbing Blu by the back of his collar to stop his attack on my neck.

“Yeah, Dalton asked me to stay the night. You mind?”

This was one of the reasons I love Neo. No matter what we’re doing we always try to keep the other one posted.

“Go ahead, babe. Knock him dead,” I smiled. Happy as hell that my best friend sounded so happy.

“You’re the best, I love you.”

“Love you more. Details tomorrow?”

“Oh absolutely,” he gushed before saying goodbye and hanging up. Glancing over at Blu who had made home tangled up next to me on the bed, he was smiling.

“So Neo is staying the night at my place. Dalton just texted me.”

“Apparently he is. Their night must’ve gone very well,” I laughed, turning my body so I was facing him.

“Guess that means you’re stuck with me for the night.” He tugged me closer to his chest, the smile never leaving his face.

“I guess so, whatever are we gonna do all night?”

“Whatever,” he kissed my forehead, “you want to.” He kissed my lips, but just before it became a full on makeout I stopped and pulled back. “What’s wrong? Did I push it too far?” He asked with concern all over his face and my heart melted a little.

“God, no,” I reassured, diving a hand into his hair. “I just don’t wanna get too caught up tonight. Don’t wanna go too far and have this be something you regret in the morning-“

“I wouldn’t,” he said with absolute surety. “Not a single second spent with your is something I regret. But if you’d rather I just stay here and hold you close while we sleep,” He smiled softly, “I can do that.”

***

I woke up the next morning, breathing in an intoxicating scent that was definitely not my perfume. My eyes opened and the events from last night flooded my head. I was curled into his chest and he was still sound asleep: or he was until I tried to get up and he promptly held me tighter.

“Don’t go.”

“Blu, I have to pee.”

“Hold it,” he mumbled into my hair, his grip on me not loosening a bit.

“Blu,” I whined.

“You’re not leaving this bed until you have to.”

“But I have to pee.”

He pulled back to look at me, rubbing sleep from his eyes. “Promise you’ll come back to me?”

I couldn’t help but grin. “I promise.”

He finally let me get up and go to the bathroom before doing the same thing himself and then we just curled back in bed. His fingers lightly tracing the features of my face.

“I never thought I’d have you as the first thing I see in the morning again.”

“And yet here we are,” I mused.

“This isn’t a dream right? My feelings are gonna be so hurt if you’re just a dream,” he laughed but I could tell part of him was serious. Grabbing the hand that was currently tracing my jaw, I opened my eyes to look at him.

“This is real, I’m real.” I kissed the tips of his fingers. “And I promise I’m not going anywhere ever again.”

“ I love you.” Leaning in, his nose brushed mine lightly. “You still love me?”

“More than you know.”

#i love you #excerpt from a book i'll never write #text #crush imagines #angst imagine #imagines #imagine #part four #ex lover #i love her #i love him #love

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darkwoods-darkdreams · 5 years

Text

Imagine you’ve found work in the country (IV)

The time had finally come. You had been terrified of this moment ever since you had realized the gravity of your situation. It was the middle of dinner when you felt a dull pain in your back. You continued eating like nothing was wrong. You refused to let yourself become a spectacle. Well, any more of a spectacle than your swollen belly created.

Just as you glanced down at your stomach, a familiar hand was placed on it. The palm rubbed in large circles.

“You’re being awfully shy tonight,” The worker’s free arm wrapped around your shoulders.

You glared at him, but said nothing. You would have pushed him away, but your womb was so large that you feared the smallest shift would cause your water to break.

His hand slipped beneath your dress, stroking your thigh, “I thought you said that you were overdue. How long are you going to keep me waiting?”

“Shut up,” You hissed. You could feel your abdomen twitching, preparing for real contractions. As everyone else finished their meals and headed to their rooms, you and the worker stayed. You would have to clean up, but it seemed that he was intent on being next to you.

He sighed, letting you go and walking to the stairs, “Maybe tomorrow, then.”

You listened as the floorboards creaked above you. As soon as they stopped, you whimpered softly. You looked down to see your belly visibly shifting beneath your dress. You carefully stood. The sooner you cleaned up, the sooner you would be able to find a quiet place and give birth without anyone finding out. You could dispose of the evidence and deal with the consequences later.

The moment you stood, warm fluid spilled down your legs. You cursed under your breath, grabbing a rag from the table.

By the time you finished, you were sweating. Your vision was blurred by your tears as you slowly ascended the stairs. One hand gripped the railing while the other was clamped over your mouth. If you made a sound, the worker might come into the hallway.

You opened the door to your room. You just wanted to grab a blanket to keep your warm. Maybe another to lie down on. You doubled over in pain, groaning as quietly as you could as another contraction hit.

“I was wondering when you would come.”

You tensed. In the darkness, you hadn’t seen the worker sitting near the window. His arms were crossed, one leg over the other. You could still barely see him in the faint light of the moon and stars, “Why are you in here?”

He stood, glancing to your stomach, “You were making quite a bit of noise downstairs.”

You wilted. You had hoped that no one had heard. Then again, he was probably listening for even the slightest sound. You backed away from him, “I don’t want to do this.”

He laughed, “How cute. You still think you have a choice. I’ve been waiting for this day for a long time, you know. The father deserves to watch his children be brought into the world,” He pushed you down onto your cot. The weight of your womb alone kept you pinned to the floor. You couldn’t reach his hands as he pulled up your skirt to reveal your stomach as the muscles clamped down on its contents. He spread your legs.

“Stop, please,” You begged. Your tears spilled over as he stuffed you with his cock.

“I hope it takes hours,” He smirked, “I hope that you pray to every god you know for it to end. I want you to beg me to let you give birth to our children. I can’t wait to see the look on your face when our first brat starts crying and you can’t help but look after it. Instincts are a powerful thing, after all.”

You still hadn’t told him that they weren’t human. You didn’t even know what exactly was inside of you. You tried not to think about it. But things were moving too quickly. You wouldn’t have time to explain. You weren’t sure if you could even find the words. You were afraid of what his reaction might be.

You cried out as he dragged you to release again and again. By the time you finally felt something move against your opened cervix, you were oversensitive and quivering.

He must have felt something, too, because he withdrew with a grin, “Don’t try to fight it. Your body knows what it wants.”

Your nails dug into the fabric of your cot, nearly tearing it. The pain was too much. You wanted to scream. You could feel it descending inch by inch. Even when you refused to push, your womb did half of the work on its own. But it was taking too long. You exhaled shakily. The longer you protested, the more you would suffer. You pushed.

The worker sat back down in the chair, grabbing a bottle of ale from the windowsill, “There we go. You’re a natural.”

You gasped, falling back against the bed. You were already exhausted. You didn’t know how you could keep going. It was stuck inside of you. You felt unbearably full. You couldn’t hold back anymore. You screamed, a prolonged howl of pain.

You opened your eyes when you heard the bottle shatter. The worker was sitting, his jaw hanging open and eyes wide. Your throat tightened. You had begun to crown and he had seen that you weren’t carrying anything close to human.

“What the fuck…” He stood, knocking the chair over, “What is that?! What happened? What did you do?!”

You sobbed. It wasn’t out of guilt, but out of shame. It would have been easier if you gave birth to human children. When the entire homestead found out about the monster from the sky, you would only suffer more. The owner could kick you out for carrying such abominations. Or maybe you would die from the complications.

The door opened to reveal the owner, “Would the two of you shut the fuck up?! I’m trying to sleep and all I can hear is-“

Your legs twitched as the object finally slid from your body. You whimpered as the second pressed into your birth canal. You couldn’t hide it anymore. You were doomed.

The owner knelt down beside you. You tried to crawl away from him, but he grabbed your hair, “Do you realize what you’ve just done?”

You didn’t answer, another moan escaping you.

He smirked, “You just made me one of the richest men in this region,” He smoothed your hair away from your face, “I know several collectors who would pay me a vault full of coin for just one of these eggs,” He touched your stomach, “And you’re giving me...two? Maybe three? I could buy a title with that much money.”

“Please,” You shook your head, “I don’t- I can’t-“

He grabbed your chin, “You no longer work for me as a cook. You’re going to be my broodmare.”

Within a year, your life had changed.

After he sold the three eggs to the highest bidders, he brought you to one of the largest cities in the kingdom. He bought himself a title and an expensive suit at one of the finest inns the city had to offer. He kept you in a small bedroom, a satin collar around your neck attached to a golden chain. Jenn was abandoned. You had become his entertainment. You learned quickly that saying no to him wasn’t an option. He wasn’t as strong as the field workers, but the chain gave him an advantage.

Once he found some other wealthy men and lords that shared his depravity, he invited them to his penthouse and introduced you to them. You sat on your bed, your hands trying to cover your body. You were never given clothes. They each paid handsomely for your services, laughing and drinking as they waited their turn.

Eventually, one of them hosted a private party and invited you and the owner to attend. You were given a dress. The corset was tight and you wore nothing beneath the skirt. You were paraded around by your chain like some pet. When enough coin was slipped into his pocket, the owner let random men take you by the collar and drag you to someplace quiet. Once the first payment was made, you ended up stuck on that one bench for hours as men stumbled across you and paid the ludicrous fee.

This party was no different. You tried to walk as closely to the owner as possible in order to hide the chain he held. You kept your eyes glued to the floor in front of you. Making eye contact was the easiest way for men to approach you.

“Someone special invited us,” The owner smiled, “He’s very thrilled to meet you.”

He brought you in front of a fat man in lavish clothing reclined on an expensive looking chaise. He was eating and drinking sloppily. You withheld your look of disgust. Surely you weren’t going to be forced to climb on top of him and-

“Ah, this must be your golden goose,” The man spoke between mouthfuls, “That egg you gave me is a hit at every party I’ve thrown.”

“I trust you’ve been doing well?” The owner made small talk, tugging at your chain to keep you from backing away.

A low growl made your gaze fall to the floor. In front of the chaise was the largest cat you had ever seen. A panther? A dark leopard? You couldn’t tell. It was eying you from its spot on the rug. You flinched a bit as it growled again.

“So, I’m sure that there’s a reason you invited us to this party?”

“Ah, yes,” The man sat up, “I want to propose a bit of a business deal.”

“Go on.”

“Is she pregnant?”

“No,” The owner explained, “I’ve been saving that for only those that can pay the fee. I’ve had a witch make her some potions that keep her from conceiving, but she also made me a potion that makes her pregnancy guaranteed.”

“You have a woman that has been bred by a monster. I host the most luxurious parties this kingdom has to offer. Why don’t we both make a bit of money? We could hold auctions at every birth. I know many exotic pet owners that are looking for breeding opportunities.”

The owner bowed, “What a lovely suggestion. I’m more than happy to oblige.”

“Good,” The man set down his cup, “Then let’s start with my panther. Beast.”

The animal lifted its head, growling softly.

You took a step back, only for the owner to grab your arm. He pushed you forward. You stopped just short of stepping on the creature in front of you. You froze, terrified as it hissed at you.

“Ladies and gentlemen!” The fat man shouted to the rest of the party, “Feast your eyes on the rarest of events! A beautiful lady is about to be ravaged by an animal. But that’s not all! As the moons pass, you will see her grow round with the animal’s young!

Tears filled your eyes as many partygoers began whispering to each other. Within minutes, the area was crowded. A small, corked bottle was held in front of you. The potion that would make you fertile. Before you could even reach out to throw it into the nearby fountain, your jaw was pried open and the liquid poured into your mouth. By the time you pushed him away, only a few drops spilled from your lips. The rest settled in your stomach. You felt dizzy.

“On your hand and knees,” The owner’s demand was a harsh whisper in your ear, “Now.”

You complied with a whimper, staggering a bit as you sank to the ground and got into position. The other guests laughed. You could see some of them stroking themselves through their trousers and skirts.

With a flourish, your skirt was pulled up. The panther sniffed at your legs for a moment, then mounted you, causing the crowd to cheer. You remained still as the panther growled, its cock prodding between your legs. The potion made your body feel hot, desperate to have something inside of you. You spread your legs a bit more and angled your hips. Another round of applause erupted in the crowd as its cock slipped inside of you. You gripped the stone tiles beneath you and moaned as the panther thrusted into you mercilessly. The barbs raking against your walls reminded you of the first time you had been bred.

Sure enough, a familiar heat poured into your cervix. The panther withdrew, its seed spilling down your thighs. You remained on the ground, still dizzy from your own release.

After a mere moon had passed, you were already showing.

#bad ending route #found work in the country #fpreg #birth #monster route #human route #series

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rpf-bat · 5 years

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The Hardest Part Of This Is Leaving You

Pairing: Gerard Way x Reader

Genre: Angst, Drama

Summary: Gerard should be playing a sold-out show. Instead, he’s in a hospital bed, fighting liver cancer. Can the doctors grant him a miracle? Or, is this the end?

“We need to have this conversation,” Gerard insisted, crossing his frail arms, as he sat on his hospital bed.

“No, we don’t,” you frowned. “The procedure is gonna be a success. The doctors are gonna cure you.”

“Honey, it’s already stage three,” Gerard confessed realistically. “You know if it progresses to stage four, I’m a goner.”

“We flew across the country, to this hospital, so that it won’t progress to stage four,” you insisted. “I want to believe that the surgery will be a success.”

“You can hope for the best,” Gerard sighed, rubbing his hand through what was left of his short, blonde hair, “but you have to be ready for the worst, too.”

“I’m not ready for it,” you admitted, tears choking your voice. “I hate seeing you so emaciated, in such pain, and not being able to do a thing about it.”

“It’s not your fault,” Gerard soothed, getting up from the cot to gather you in his arms. “Cancer can affect anyone. Nobody knows why it chooses its victims.”

“Gee, you need to get back in bed,” you insisted. You couldn’t have him falling again. “I should be the one consoling you, when you’re going through all this shit, not the other way around.”

He slumped back onto his pillows, frowning. You remembered how he used to look in the morning, his long locks strewn out on your bed behind him as he was just waking up. He looked so gorgeous then. You remembered the horror you had felt, the first time one of those handsome strands had fallen out. And then he’d begun to lose them in clumps….

“I hate you seeing me like this,” he said softly. “I’m weak, and ugly now. I’m not the man you fell in love with.”

“Yes, you are, Gee,” you assured him, taking his too-thin hand in your own. “I promised to stay with you in sickness or health, and I meant that.”

“We could’ve had a nicer ceremony, if we weren’t in such a rush, because of me,” Gerard sighed. “I wish you could’ve had a big church wedding, like in the movies. You deserve that.”

Instead, you’d just gone down to the courthouse one afternoon, and signed a marriage certificate. There had been little formality to it.

“You said you wanted to make me your wife, before the end came,” you reminded. “I could never refuse you your dying wish.”

“So you do, in fact, acknowledge that I’m dying,” your husband said, with a wry smile.

“Maybe the doctors will give us a miracle,” you insisted hopefully. “And we can do the big ceremony, with the white dress and all that, later, once you’re feeling healthy again.”

“I’m never going to be healthy again, sugar,” Gerard mumbled. “The sooner you accept it, the easier it’s gonna be.”

How could you possibly accept it? Gerard was still so young. Only twenty-nine years old. He’d just recorded perhaps the greatest album of his career.

The papers were already saying things like, he will leave behind this record, as his legacy. But, you thought he still had so many songs in him left to write. He deserved a chance to compose them, didn’t he?

You couldn’t forget how he’d cried, when he’d had to make the announcement, that he was cancelling the rest of the tour. He didn’t want to disappoint his fans, but his condition was just deteriorating far too fast.

His bandmates had cried, too. They knew that that last show, might be the last chance they ever had to perform by his side. They weren’t ready for the band to come to such an abrupt end. They’d played their hearts out, even with tears streaming down their cheeks.

“You’re gonna get better,” you said stubbornly. “Then, you can reschedule those tour dates, go back to doing what you love.”

“Y/N, please be realistic,” Gerard pleaded, squeezing your hand tighter. “Just….read it, won’t you?”

“No,” you sobbed. “No, I don’t want to read your will.”

“I spent all this time writing it,” Gerard sighed. “I put a lot of thought into it.”

“I don’t want you thinking about who gets your stuff when you’re gone,” you cried. “I don’t want you giving up - I want to hear you say that you’re determined to live!”

“You think I don’t want to live?!” Gerard demanded. “You think I don’t wish every day, that I could have more days, more nights, with you? You think I don’t regret spending months away, with the band, when I should have spent every single day in your arms? I wanted to be with you until your dying day. I wanted us to grow old together. And I hate the thought of you having to bury me so soon. But it’s not up to me! I only have as many days, as God is willing to give me on this earth.”

“God is a bastard,” you hissed, “for stealing you away from me. From all the kids who need you, too. If He’s even up there at all.”

“Now’s not the time to go dissing the man,” Gerard chuckled mirthlessly. “If this surgery doesn’t do what you’re hoping it will do, getting on your knees to pray, will be the only option you have left.”

You couldn’t hold back your tears. You reached over and just held him tight, squeezing him until you worried it might hurt his fragile body. But, he didn’t pull away.

“I don’t want to let you go, Y/N,” Gerard whispered desperately. “Not now. Not ever.”

You clung ever tighter, stroking his back gently, hating how you could so easily feel his bones.

“I don’t wanna leave you,” Gerard confessed vulnerably. “I don’t wanna go yet.”

You didn’t know what to say. You just kept hugging him, and crying. He was right - at the end of the day, what he wanted, might not make a difference at all.

At last, he raised his head to look at you. “If the end comes for me, my love…”

“Yes?”

“You don’t wanna read it, fine, I’ll summarize it for ya,” Gerard said bitterly. “I’m leaving you everything that I got. All the money I’ve earned off CD sales, ticket sales, merch sales….all that shit’s gonna be yours. Do whatever you want with it. Buy a mansion. Buy a car. Take a vacation to Aruba, to try and forget about me.”

“As if I could ever forget you, Gee,” you replied, shocked by the harsh tone that had suddenly entered his voice. “You’re the love of my life, don’t you know that? You’re the only one for me.”

“Don’t say that, Y/N,” Gerard warned. “I don’t want you to spend the rest of your life just...mourning me, as my widow. You deserve to be happy, even if it’s not with me. Someday, I hope you’ll be able to find somebody else.”

“I don’t want anybody else,” you vowed. “I want you, Gee. And I don’t give a fuck about the money. I don’t care if I live in a cardboard box, as long as you’re living there with me.”

“I don’t think I’m going to be doing much living, sugar,” Gerard sighed hopelessly. “With you, or without you.”

You heard the sound of someone clearing their throat, and jumped off the hospital bed in surprise, as a nurse entered the room.

“Mr. Way,” she said softly. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but we’re ready to take you into surgery now.”

You watched her wheel the gurney out of the room, towards the OR. You saw the defeated look in his eyes as he left your side, regardless of what he’d just said a few minutes ago.

Now, all you could do was wait. You knew it might be hours before the procedure was complete. The doctors would call you when it was over, to give you the good news, or bad news. You had no way of knowing which it would be.

You began to wander the hospital corridors aimlessly, until you came upon a small, empty chapel. You knelt down in a pew, unsure what else to do.

Please let the doctors save him, you begged, even though you weren’t sure if anyone was listening.

%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

“Mrs. Way?” a soft voice asked, as you felt a tap on your shoulder. It took you a second to realize the nurse was speaking to you - it had only been a short time ago, that you’d taken Gerard’s name.

“Your husband just came out of surgery,” she explained. “He’s in room 1023. The anesthesia should be wearing off. He should be waking up soon.”

You didn’t wait to hear any more. You rushed to Gerard’s side.

%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

You stroked his hair as you watched him sleep. He looked like an angel.

“Hey, beautiful,” he mumbled, a smile spreading across his face, as he stirred at your touch. You still thought he was beautiful, too, even with the breathing tubes stuck up his nose.

“How are you feeling?” you asked gently.

“I’m on a lot of painkillers right now,” Gerard chuckled. “So right now, I’m not feeling very much at all.”

“The area we operated on, may hurt quite a bit later, unfortunately,” said a somber voice, and you turned to see a doctor with a clipboard, standing at the entrance to the room.

Gerard pulled up his hospital gown, to gaze down at the bandage that now covered most of his abdomen.

“We’re fortunate,” the doctor went on, “that a combination of aggressive chemotherapy, and trans-arterial embolization, gave us enough time to find you a donor.”

“I know I only got moved to the top of the transplant waiting list, because I’m a celebrity,” Gerard said guiltily. “There are other people who need new organs just as much as me, who just can’t afford to be treated at the best hospitals in the country, like I can.”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, Mr. Way,” the doctor cautioned. “There’s still a chance that your body could reject your new liver.”

“What happens if it does?” you asked, grabbing hold of Gerard’s hand again. What if you came all this way for nothing?

“If the cancer has metastasized to too great a degree, then, unfortunately, the transplant may prove ineffective,” the doctor acknowledged.

“And then I’ll die,” Gerard realized somberly.

“Yes, Mr. Way,” the doctor nodded sadly. “We will, of course, be administering cyclosporine to you via IV, to reduce the chances of transplant rejection. But, if you develop a fever, or if you begin to experience severe abdominal swelling, you should alert us immediately.”

“Because the organ you just gave me, could turn traitor and kill me, too,” Gerard huffed. “Just as easily as the disease that you’re trying to cure.”

“Cancer is one of the most difficult diseases in this world to treat, Mr. Way,” the doctor sighed. “But, we will hope for the best.”

Hope for the best, but be ready for the worst.

You were so sick of hearing this. You just wanted to know if the man you loved would be okay, or not!

The doctor excused himself, and Gerard tugged on your hand as soon as you were alone, sending you tumbling into his hospital bed.

“Careful!” you cautioned. “You don’t want to pop a stitch!”

“I just….need you in my arms right now,” Gerard said passionately. “I’m scared, Y/N.”

You complied with his request, embracing him gently. You wanted to hold him tighter, but you didn’t want to hurt him.

“I’m scared, too,” you said softly. “We still don’t know how this is gonna end up….if you’re going to go into remission, or not.”

“But, for tonight, I’m alive,” Gerard smiled, and wiped a tear from your lashes. “I know any moment could be my last….but I’m so happy that in this moment, my heart is still beating, and you are here, by my side.”

“There’s nowhere in this world,” you promised, “that I would rather be.”

“Kiss me now,” Gerard begged. “And one day, if I live through this, if my body can take it, just ravish me.”

“You know I will,” you smiled softly, and bent, and placed your lips on his. Nothing was certain tonight - except for the love that you shared together. But, even if Gerard saw it as a foregone conclusion, you weren’t ready to give up on him just yet.

A/N: This story may be fictional, but for many people, the pain of watching a loved one go through cancer, and it’s treatment, is all too real. If you are able, please consider donating to Be The Match, an organization that helps match leukemia patients with bone marrow donors.

https://bethematch.org/support-the-cause/donate-financially/

If you are 18+ and in good health, you can also register as an organ donor, if you wish, through Donate Life.

https://www.donatelife.net/

#gerard way x reader #gerard way imagine #black parade gerard #cancer tw #ha I guess I didn't throw enough angst at y'all earlier today??#tbh i'm just writing as a coping mechanism now

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omgjasminesimone · 5 years

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Tequila Sunrise Part IV

Previous Part: Part III

Next Part: Epilogue

Logan x MC

Author’s Note: Final part! Thanks to everyone who read, liked, commented, and reblogged!

Summary: 10 years have passed since Logan and Ellie last saw each other. After a brief unexpected reunion, they part ways again. But now, Ellie is back and Logan finally has a reason to stay.

Word Count: 1750

Logan and Paul set the couch down in the rented U-haul trailer, both men wiping sweat from their brows.

Logan looks around appreciatively. “That’s the last big thing. Thanks for your help man.”

Paul smiles. “Of course. Don’t be a stranger Logan, stay in touch.” Paul grasps Logan’s hand, pulling him in and patting his back in a half hug.

Logan smiles. “I will.” He promises, though he knows he won’t. He never does.

Paul leaves with a friendly wave, and Logan gets to work gathering the last few boxes. He would have moved soon anyway, but Ellie knowing where he is has increased the urgency.

It’s been three months since he dropped her off at the restaurant, forcing himself to drive away instead of running after her, pulling her into his arms, and never letting her go like he really wanted to. He knows it was the right decision, no matter how much it hurt. He knows she’s probably hurting too, and he’s afraid she’ll come back here to find him. He hopes she won’t. That she’ll realize how much better off she is without him. But if she does come back, he doesn’t think he has it in him to turn her away again, although he knows that he should, that he has to.

So he’s moving again. He really liked Puerta Vallarta, but he can’t stay in one place for too long. Can’t get too comfortable. He has to keep the Feds guessing.

He takes one last look around the empty hut, making sure he hasn’t forgotten anything. He smiles fondly, he had some good times here, but it’s time to move on.

He locks the door, leaving the key under the mat for his landlord, and brings one last box to his truck bed. He loads it in, and is about to close his truck bed door, when he hears a car coming. The taxi turns the corner, kicking up dust as it heads towards him. His heart initially soars, but as reality sets in it plummets instead.

He knows it will be her before she opens the door, but he still prays that somehow it’s not. That she’s not going to make him leave her, again. He’d prefer an FBI agent get out of the taxi and arrest him than having to say goodbye to her for a fourth heartbreaking time.

The door opens, and of course Ellie steps out. She’s wearing the Panama Canal shirt he gave her, paired with black leggings. The taxi driver gets out of the cab, going to the trunk and removing her large purple rolling suitcase. He places it on the dusty ground. “Muchas gracias.” Ellie chimes, handing the man a tip.

She grips the handle, spotting him standing outside. Then she spots the U-Haul trailer. She shakes her head in disbelief, a huge grin spreading across her face as she rushes over, awkwardly pulling the suitcase across the unpaved dirt road. The taxi drives away.

“Going somewhere?” She asks when she reaches him.

“Ellie, you shouldn’t be here.” He says softly, eyes pleading with her to not make this any harder than it already is.

“I shouldn’t? Do you not see it, Logan? Fate, the universe, bringing us together?”

He sighs. “Ellie-“

She interrupts. “No Logan, listen. I didn’t even want to come to Mexico. I wanted to just wallow in San Francisco and feel sorry for myself after I found about Trent cheating. But Riya showed up to my apartment and personally drove me to the airport and made sure I got on the plane. We’re at the same very crowded bar, where we easily could have missed each other, but we don’t. We find each other. I go home, reluctantly, because ‘my life’ is in San Francisco, and then a month later my company goes bankrupt and lays everyone off. I get here now, and if I had been even 15 minutes later, I would have missed you. I assume I wasn’t going to be getting your new address?”

He sighs again. “No, Ellie. I wanted to move so you couldn’t find me. So you’d move on.” Logan admits.

Ellie nods. “Thought so. But fate obviously had different plans.” She reaches out, taking his hands. “Did you know that birth control is 99.9% effective when taken correctly?”

He had been looking at their clasped hands, but now his gaze returns to her pretty brown eyes.

“And you know how I am Logan. I’m very organized, very regimented. I never forget to take my birth control. I take it at the exact same time every morning, I take it correctly.”

His face drains of color as he starts to see where this is going.

“But despite that, and on top of all the other coincidences, with a .1 percent chance of this happening, I’m pregnant…..Oh my God Logan you look like you’re about to throw up. Maybe you should sit down.”

He all but collapses onto the still open truck bed door, beginning to hyperventilate.

Ellie stands between his legs, wrapping one arm around him and pulling him to her, his head resting on her chest. She uses her free hand to gently run her fingers through his short brown hair. “Breathe baby.” She soothes.

“Are you sure it’s not Trent’s?” He asks softly. Even if Trent is an asshole, at least he’s not a wanted felon.

She stops running her fingers through his hair, clearly irritated he would even ask. “No Logan, it’s yours. It’s ours.”

He pulls away slightly, looking up at her with tears in his eyes. “Fuck, Ellie. I’m so sorry.” They should have used a condom, he should have made sure this didn’t happen. God, what a mess. How could they possibly bring a child into this situation? He squeezes his eyes shut, turning his head down as he thinks. His negative thoughts are interrupted when she grips his chin, forcing him to look at her.

“Stop thinking whatever you’re thinking. I’m not sorry Logan. I want this baby. I want you. Don’t you see? This happened for a reason. Because this is the only way that you would ever stop running from me, from us. You want to protect me, you think you’re doing the right thing, keeping your distance. But do you think it’s really the right thing if it’s making us both miserable?”

“Of course it’s the right thing Ellie. Being with me would cost you everything. I love you too much to let you give up everything for me.”

“That’s my point. This baby will be the one thing you love just as much, if not more, than me. You want to leave for me, but you have to stay for your child. You’re not the kind of man who can walk away. Not when you know what it’s like to not have a father.” Ellie reasons.

“I have to leave for our child too. We can’t do this Ellie, we’d be raising a child on the run. What happens when he or she starts school? We make them leave all their friends every year?”

“Maybe we don’t have to be on the run.” She says softly, wiping away the tears that are starting to run down his cheeks.

He looks at her, trying not to allow himself to hope, not wanting to be disappointed. “How?”

“Not to bruise your ego, but you’re not really a major bust for the FBI. They got the Brotherhood, and you were a minor when you committed most of the crimes they know about. At this point, they just want to close the case. My Dad says in a few months he might be able to negotiate a plea deal that would get you off with probation.”

“Your Dad would do that for me?” The disbelief is evident in his voice. He hasn’t forgotten about the loaded gun Detective Wheeler pointed in his face when he saw him last.

She loops her arms around his shoulders, drawing him in close once again. “No, not for you. For his grandchild. He wanted me to tell you that. He’s actually pretty mad at you.”

Logan wraps his arms around her, tracing patterns in her back. “Yeah, I’d imagine.”

“But he’ll come around eventually once he gets to know you. Now that there’s a baby, he knows you’re not going anywhere so he’ll have to get used to you.”

“I don’t know how to be a father Ellie. I never had one. Closest thing to a father figure even was Kaneko. What if I’m terrible at it?” Logan asks, with so much insecurity that it breaks Ellie’s heart.

“Logan, no one knows how to be a parent until they’re a parent. But I know you’re going to be a wonderful father. You love so deeply and always put everyone else before yourself. Our baby is so lucky to have you.” She assures.

“I’m the lucky one. I never could have imagined that this would actually happen. That I could actually have you…We’re having a baby.” His voice trails off, thick with emotion.

She smiles, kissing the top of his head. “I used to daydream about this, back in the day. Of course, in my dreams we were married.”

He smirks, looking up at her. “Was that a hint?”

She shrugs. “Take that however you want to.”

He lifts her shirt, exposing the barely-there baby bump. But it is there. This is real. They have a future. He places adoring kisses over her stomach, tears welling up in his eyes.

“I love you so much Ellie.”

“I love you too.” They hold each other for a few minutes before she steps away. “So, where are we moving?” She asks.

He stands up, kicking at the clamp to make sure the trailer is securely fastened to his truck. “Ensenada for now. If…I mean when I get that plea deal, we can go back to Los Angeles, or anywhere you want.” He replies.

She smiles. “Ensenada is only 200 miles from Los Angeles. My Dad will love that.” She turns to retrieve her suitcase, starting to lift it into his truck.

“Hey! That looks heavy and you’re pregnant!” Logan takes the suitcase from her, lifting it easily into the truck. It’s actually not that heavy.

Ellie places her hands on her hips. “Are you going to be like this the whole pregnancy?”

Logan smirks “Probably. Do you still want to be with me?”

She pretends to think on it. He laughs, pulling her to him so he can kiss her.

…

El Fin/The End (Although I might write an epilogue because I miss RoD)

taglist: @choicesarehard @ifyouseekheart @brightpinkpeppercorn @powdesiree0816 @regina-and-happiness@choicelogansbitch @flyawayboo @fairydustandsarcasm @alesana45@umiumichan @maxwellsquidsuit @professorortegasstudent @god-save-the-keen @mrsmckenziesworld @paisleylovergirl @iplaydrake @sinclaire-made-me-sin @sibella-plays-choices @hazah

#ride or die #logan x mc #logan rod #choices #choices fanfiction #playchoices #choices rod

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seouledbysisi · 5 years

Text

Something New

chapter thirteen

Jaehyun

He grabbed his keyboard and began to play the chords to a Boyz II Men song. He loved their music and at the moment his mind was completely and exhausted my focused on Sasha. He just couldn’t shake that maybe things wouldn’t work. He was all in still but he knew distance was hard and it was even harder when you’re on different time scales. It was an entire different day for him. It was hard to find time to communicate because of the time difference and even when he’d get the urge to call her, because he missed the hell out of her, and it was way too early she wouldn’t fuss. What had he done to deserve someone as perfect as her? He just prayed, to the only God he had faith in would listen, and not allow this distance to tear them apart.

He began to sing the words to “End of the Road”. The song defined exactly how he felt about his Sasha. He had never felt that way about any woman but somehow singing helped him cope with the fact that he was lonely without her.

His mom knocked on his room door. “I know you’re busy, but I just wanted to check in on you.” She sighed with a slight smile.

His fingers continued to hit the keys on the keyboard. He stared at her for a moment and then let his gaze drift beyond her, never saying a word.

“Jeffrey, please talk to me.” She said softly, her heart was breaking for her son. This move was tough on him. Although she knew that he really liked Sasha somehow she didn’t notice just how much. Her baby was in love and every move he made proved it.

He exhaled loudly as he cut his playing. “What do you want me to say?”

“How you feel.” She smiled as she took a seat on his bed.

He shrugged. He wanted to express how he felt but then he’d feel terrible for not being understanding enough of his mother’s feelings too. “It’s not worth the battle.” He voiced under his breath.

She placed her hand on his shoulder gently. “I know you resent us leaving, I think you’ll feel better if you talk about it though.”

“I feel selfish though. I wanted to stay for my own personal reasons. I hate that we had to leave. I hate that you married a man that you knew beforehand was terrible. I hate that you allowed yourself to be in that situation. I hate that y’all sent me away simply for having feelings about my father being the douche that he will always be. My life is a train wreck, all of our lives are but the one thing that wasn’t screwed up is Sasha and look at that now.” His eyes welled with tears.

He hated that he was so emotional. He began playing again.

“Stop it! Just stop, Jeffrey!” His mom began to break as well. “I’m sorry that your life hasn’t been the best for you. I’m trying to make it up for you now. I don’t want you to continue in turmoil baby. I haven’t made this easy for you, nor had your father and I’m sorry for all the mistakes we made in raising all of you but all I can do is be better now.”

He laid his head on his mother and completely allowed himself to drown in his emotions. Maybe that’s what he had needed because he felt a bit lighter. His heart wasn’t as heavy. His mind wasn’t as stressed.

“Mom, I just want to see her but I know I can’t. Prom is this weekend and I hate myself for missing it, and I fear she won’t go without me. She shouldn’t have to miss prom because of me.”

His mom rubbed his shoulders and allowed him his moment to be vulnerable. That was a side that he didn’t show often at all.

Ivy & Sasha

“Close your eyes!” Ivy fussed at Sasha as she attempted to do her eye makeup, Ivy was a makeup queen.

Sasha sighed. “I don’t even know why I’m even going.” She complained.

Ivy popped her hand as she reached for one of her curls. “You are not ruining my masterpiece. Sit still and be patient.”

Sasha rolled her eyes and then her phone pinged.

Jaehyun.

She smiled and opened the text. It was a video of him sitting in front of a keyboard.

Ivy raised an eyebrow. “He can play the piano?”

Sasha shrugged. “I sure hope so since he’s sitting in front of one. Ive never heard him play.”

Ivy read the message under the video out loud. I hate that I have to miss your beauty on this special night, please forgive me for being the worst boyfriend ever. I hope this makes up for it somehow.

Sasha held her heart as she clicked on the video and listened to the words of the song. It touched her in so many different ways. Tears welled up in her eyes. She stared at the video. He looked beautiful but she could see in his eyes that he was sad. In a strange way it gave her comfort that maybe he was having it just as hard as she was.

“Let’s get dressed, Sasha.” She told her softly. She had watched her replay the video at least four times already and she understood that her friend needed this moment but time was winding down and Johnny would be arriving to pick them up in an hour.

Sasha sighed and stared into blank space. “Can’t I just stay here and watch this video all night?”

“No, that’s not healthy. You need to be at your last ever prom with all of us!”

Sasha stood and tossed her phone to the side. “I never told you but Taeyong asked me to be his date..”

Ivy swung around and stared at her with furious eyes. “Why does he continue to bother you? He knows you’re in a relationship so now that Jae isn’t physically here he thinks it’s okay to disrespect him?”

Sasha shrugged. “It’s Taeyong. What can you expect? He sent it through a text anyway so I didn’t really take it seriously.”

Ivy rolled her eyes. “He irritates my soul!”

They began to get dressed. Sasha stared at the dress on Ivy. She looked gorgeous. Better than she ever would, but she always looked better so that wasn’t a surprise. She just didn’t compare to Ivy and at this point she wasn’t even trying. God gave everyone special attributes and beauty was definitely Ivy’s strong point.

Ivy

Sasha

Johnny

Johnny walked up Sasha’s driveway so he could formally pick his dates up. He rung the doorbell and waited for an answer.

Sasha’s mom opened the door and immediately pulled him into a hug. It seemed everyone loved Johnny. “I haven’t seen you in forever, you look taller.” She stared at him for a moment in shock.

“I’m pretty sure I’m still 6’ ft even.” He chuckled and hugged her back.

She shook her head. “The nurse in me says that’s gotta be a lie.”

The girls stepped into the hallway. Sasha stepped out onto the porch first. She wanted to save his real prize for last.

“You look beautiful, Sasha. I’m glad Jaehyun gave me the honor of courting you tonight.” He smiled and pulled her into a side hug.

She gave him a small smile. “Wait till you see the real showstopper.”

A few moments later Ivy’s heels clicked down the hallway to the front door.

Johnny’s eyes nearly bulged out. “You look breathtaking.” He whispered.

She began to blush a bit. “I try.”

He kissed her forehead. “I feel like the big man on campus with two beautiful dates!” He popped the collar on his suit jacket.

He grabbed both of their hands and lead them to his truck.

Brianne

Brianne stared at herself in the living full length mirror. She never imagined that she would look this beautiful on a night like this.

She couldn’t help but feel a slight sting to her heart as she thought about the fact that her mom would miss this chance to see her on a special night like this. Her mother had left two years ago and she hadn’t heard from her since. Her father tried to convince her that she only left because of their problems as husband and wife but if that have been the case why did her mother never contact her anymore? She left both of them for whatever reason and she had come to terms with it. She had no other choice but to.

Her father’s rejection appeared in the mirror behind her. “You look beautiful, Eskimo.” He had called her that since she was a young girl because she always complained about being cold. “Stop looking sad, this is a special night for you.”

She raised an eyebrow. “What makes you think that I’m sad?”

Her father was a psychologist so he had discernment when it came to things of this nature. She couldn’t hide her emotions from him no matter how hard she tried. “I’ve seen that look all too many times. Look, she made her decision to leave so it’s her loss. Don’t let it ruin your night.” He kissed her cheek with a small smile.

The doorbell rang.

She took a deep breath. “I guess it’s about that time.” She smoothed her gown down.

Her father opened the door and gave Taeil a stern look.

Taeil was scared as ever. His fingers were tingling. “I’m Taeil, nice to meet-“

“I know exactly who you are! You will treat her with utmost respect for the entire night, understand?” He cut him off mid-sentence.

Taeil nodded. “Yessir! I always treat her with respect, she deserves the best. I’m nowhere near perfect but I try to give my all for her.”

Her father shook his head, “you won’t try! You will do!”

Taeil didn’t bother to say a word. It wouldn’t have mattered. He simply nodded.

Brianne eyed her father’s tough guy act. It was almost funny because he was the softest guy she’d ever known, he just needed to prove a point. He wouldn’t hurt a fly honestly.

“And keep your dick in your pants! I’ve been a teen before so I know what teenage boys want on prom night! You’re not getting it from my daughter.” He eyes Taeil.

Taeil’s eyes widened. “Yessir! I swear it wasn’t on my mind.” He was being honest.

Her father simply stared at him. “Have fun, babygirl.” He kissed her forehead and watched them leave arm in arm. He wasn’t a mean guy but he had to show Taeil who the boss still was. This was his only daughter.

Prom

They had been at the prom for a little over an hour. The DJ actually was decent and everyone seemed to be having the time of their lives.

Sasha danced with Johnny and Ivy and everything seemed pretty right. The only thing which would make it better was Jaehyun being there. Honestly it wasn’t just Sasha who was missing out. This was meant to be his senior prom as well. Sure he went to a new school now and he could go to there’s but it wouldn’t be the same.

A slow song came on and Taeil grabbed Brianne’s hand and pulled her close to him as he swayed her to the music. “You look amazing tonight. I’m glad you gave me the honor of coming with me.”

He was maybe only a couple of inches taller than her but with her heels she stood a bit over him. “I’m just glad you’re with me. You’re my first real boyfriend and it sucks that this didn’t happen till now but I guess we better make the best out of it.” She didn’t know what the future held for them so she was soaking up every good moment with him while she could.

Sasha stepped back. “I’m going to let y’all have this moment.” She smiled.

Johnny grabbed her hand and pulled her back. “You can’t just leave us hanging. We’re a threesome!”

Sasha sighed. “Y’all deserve this moment together.”

Ivy shook her head with a smile. “We all deserve this moment. Now come on and dance with us!”

She danced with them for half of the song and then she slowly removed herself. They deserved at least one moment together alone. Everyone had been tip toeing around her feelings so much lately so now it was time for her to give them something back. This was all of their prom and they deserved for it to be every bit of perfect and special regardless of her.

She took a walk outside and sat under the gazebo outside of the venue.

The night air rustled through her curls but it felt good. She needed this moment alone so she could collect her thoughts and get her emotions together.

After a while she heard footsteps approaching. Multiple footsteps. She didn’t bother to turn around, she figured it was Johnny and Ivy coming to take her back inside with them.

“I’m okay guys, please go back in and have fun. Prom is almost over!” She spoke with her back turned.

Jaehyun chuckled.

Sasha’s breathing hitched in her throat. She knew that laugh from anywhere. She wondered was she imagining things. This had to be a daydream.

“Am I too late?” He spoke as he stood waiting on her to turn around and acknowledge his presence. He had a beautiful bouquet of flowers in hand.

She whipped herself around and found him staring at her with a huge smile. He looked amazing. All she wanted to do was jump in his arms but her feet wouldn’t move. The others stood behind him watching in awe.

-stay tuned

#fanfic #stories #kpop #kpop idols #soft hours #nct jaehyun #nct taeyong #nct taeil #nct yuta #nct haechan #nct mark lee #nct johnny #nct jungwoo #nct doyoung #nct winwin #nctzen #czennies

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ottelis · 4 years

Photo

"I gave you my life, Eliott," Lucas's voice shatters, splinters.

Eliott replies softly, broken, hollow, "And I gave you mine."

"No," Lucas says, low and dark. "No, you didn't."

epigraph. i. ii. iii. iv. v. vi. vii. viii.

08—the world will be yours

july 23rd, 1968

04:09

caen, france

Eliott and Lucas haven't stopped talking all night, their stories and laughter gently leading the moon across the sky. Eliott knows she's smiling down on them, knows that she doesn't want to set just yet, knows that she wants to watch over these two boys a moment or two longer. He wonders if Lucas can feel that same love from the moon in the way it's shining a little brighter, how it doesn't seem to fracture as much as it streams through the window. He wonders if Lucas knows that the moon is rejoicing along with them, bathing in the warm water of sweet memory. Lucas is smiling wider than Eliott has seen him smile since before everything happened, so he thinks Lucas can feel it all. The moon nearly weeping tears of joy, Eliott's heart repairing itself stitch by stitch, the world becoming tranquil and calm, letting itself sigh. Eliott feels—no, knows —that him and Lucas are meant to be close. They're meant to look into each other's eyes, to smile at each other, to touch. It doesn't quite matter what lies beneath every touch, what they may be hiding behind their smiles, what they may find in each other's eyes. What matters is that they're in the same room, that they're breathing the same air, that they're ready to set the world aright again. That's how Eliott knows, after all. When they're together, when they're at each other's side, the world spins a little more slowly, flows purely and perfectly like water. The world is so much more beautiful when he looks into Lucas's eyes, and that has to mean something.

"Could you find Polaris at this time of night?" Lucas asks quietly, sweetly, bringing Eliott out of his thoughts. His eyes are lost in the world outside, trying to break through the glass to get a better view.

"Of course," Eliott nods. "It's constant. It's always in the same spot."

"I think the sun is starting to rise," Lucas replies. "You can't really see it in the daylight, right?"

Eliott looks out the window, too, his eyes immediately finding Polaris. The sky is lightening around it, and it starts to blend in. "Sometimes you can, sometimes you can't," he shrugs, turning his gaze back to Lucas. But he's still gazing outside, his eyes wide and soft, an early morning sun. "I haven't really looked for Polaris lately," Eliott admits, his voice low and thin. "I don't know why. Maybe I tried to deal with everything changing by mapping the stars that were foreign to me. I thought that that could help me navigate my own parts that I don't recognize. I thought that maybe sometimes the sky doesn't know what it is, either. What it's made of. What it's worth to certain people."

"Maybe it doesn't," Lucas agrees thoughtfully, wistfully. "Maybe it's too busy trying to carry the weight of… billions of wishes to worry about why it has to shoulder it all in the first place."

"Maybe," Eliott mutters, too quiet for Lucas to hear.

"Do you think God created wishes so people that don't know who He is could still pray to Him?" Lucas asks, reverent and soft. "And He made stars to hold all those wishes?"

"Maybe," Eliott repeats, a little louder this time. "But does that mean the stars aren't for everyone?"

Lucas tilts his head ever so slightly, his brow furrowing. "Everyone who's heard of God has doubted Him at some point. Maybe they're supposed to be like little gods. Maybe they can turn to them for a moment, until they decide to believe in Him again, or to hold onto the stars for a little longer."

"They're like a little path," Eliott suggests, smiling at the thought. "You can always follow it in different directions whenever it branches off."

Lucas smiles, too, sweet and content, his eyes so filled with stars Eliott wishes he could live in the galaxy within them.

"It's nice to see you smile," Eliott says, the words spilling off his tongue. But he doesn't mind. "I've missed it."

Lucas looks at Eliott then, his smile faltering only to widen and brighten into a grin. His head droops as he tries to hide it, but it still widens into Eliott's favorite smile—the shy one, the one accompanied by a small, stifled laugh. Even before he knew he loved Lucas, seeing him smile like this meant he was so happy he was afraid he would lose it if he didn't hide it. But over the years, he doesn't cover his mouth with his hand, and he doesn't tilt his head as low. He's becoming less afraid, and Eliott has the privilege to see Lucas's walls come down again. Maybe, at some point, they can go back to that brief yet brilliant time when Lucas held his head high and laughed with his whole chest, when he trusted Eliott enough to protect him and his happiness. Eliott hopes so, even if he can't cradle Lucas's heart in his hands like before. As long as Lucas can be as happy as he deserves to be.

"I've missed it, too," Lucas admits quietly as he lifts his head, his smile shrinking ever so slightly.

"Smiling?" Eliott asks, somewhat knowing that that is what Lucas means, somewhat hoping that he'll be wrong.

But Lucas nods, looking out the window again. "I haven't smiled much since you came back. Chloé's noticed, and so has Maman, and all of our friends. I couldn't tell them what was wrong, of course, but… I'm glad we can be Lucas and Eliott again," his smile starts to come back again, and it puts Eliott at ease. "I've forgiven you and I've forgiven myself. I can be happy again. I am happy."

Eliott grins, his heart warming and glowing like a star in his chest. "I'm happy, too."

Lucas's smile stays on his face, but there's something else in his eyes—something pensive, something close to mournful. "If you had told me the day we kissed," he begins, his voice quiet. "That in just a few months our lives would fall apart... I wouldn't have believed you for a second. You were what I needed, and I had you the way I wanted to. I never thought I would lose you."

"But I'm here now, Lucas," Eliott replies. "And, in that case, let's not promise that we won't ever lose each other again. We never could've promised that in the first place. Let's promise, that we'll always find each other in the end. Because I don't know about you, Lucas, but I just need you close to me."

Lucas's eyes smile again. "I need you close to me, too. It's a good thing we live right next to each other."

Eliott lets out a laugh, nodding. "It's convenient, that's for sure," his smile falls again though as a thought comes to his mind. "But you're going to school soon. Then you'll marry Chloé. Is she going to be in Paris with you?"

Lucas's smile falls again, too. "We're… actually talking about moving the wedding to next year. That way she can finish lyceé and I can maybe find us an apartment in Paris. It's not set yet, but she seems to be willing to wait."

"Oh," Eliott replies dumbly, his eyes wide.

"She was actually the one to pull me aside and say that we might be rushing into this," Lucas continues. "I was a bit shocked at first, but after we talked about it for a bit I agreed with her. She'll get her Christmas wedding, just not this Christmas."

"Okay," Eliott replies, still dumbfounded. "Then, why did you tell me that she was going to go dress shopping soon earlier? I mean, you didn't talk to her between then and now because we've been together since."

Lucas shrugs, sighing. "I guess I didn't want to give bad news about Chloé when we had more important things to talk about."

Eliott nods, understanding. "But everything's okay between you two?"

Lucas nods back, the corner of his mouth quirking ever so slightly up. "Everything's okay. We just have to break the news to Maman now."

"I'm sure she'll understand," Eliott reassures him. "She'll have even more time to make her baby boy's wedding perfect."

Lucas's smile spreads, almost unevenly across his face. "You're right," he confirms, nodding once. "I think even six months of planning wasn't quite enough time for her. She's been really stressed lately. Maybe waiting a year would be better for her, too."

"See?" Eliott smiles kindly. "It's all working out."

Lucas nods again, rather weakly. "It's all working out," he repeats, as if he was reassuring himself.

"Is something wrong, Lucas?" Eliott asks quietly, carefully.

Lucas tenses, but he melts it away almost as soon as it takes over him. "Yes, of course," he replies, half-smiling. "I think I'm disappointed that I have to wait longer to marry Chloé. I would've married her yesterday if I could have. No parties, no tuxedos, no dresses. Just us. But that's not what she wants, so."

Eliott feels disappointment and pride swirl and mix in his chest, leaving him with a bitter, sharp ache. "It's okay to be disappointed," he says, though, thinking of the ache as just another pill to swallow. "I'm sure she is, too. But I think it'll all be worth it when you see her walking down the aisle. My papa cried when he saw my maman. I think you'll be a crier, too."

Lucas smiles weakly, a dreamy gaze filling his eyes and creating another galaxy there. "I think so, too," he agrees, his voice distant and wistful. "She'll look so beautiful. The most beautiful woman in the world."

Eliott smiles, too, hearing his father say almost the exact same words. "If you cry, I'm definitely going to make fun of you for it in my best man speech," he jokes, hoping to make Lucas smile a little wider.

Lucas chuckles, shaking his head. "Who said you were going to be my best man?" he teases, raising an eyebrow.

Eliott drops his mouth open, clapping his hand over his chest, pretending to be shocked. "You're telling me you've asked someone else to be your best man?"

Lucas nods gravely. "I asked Basile the other day. And he said 'yes.'"

"Basile?!" Eliott cries, but unable to keep his laughter from spilling out. " Our Basile? You chose him over me?!"

Lucas is fully laughing now, curling up on himself as his laughter ripples through him in waves. He nods, unable to give a response.

"Well, you'll need to give Basile some bad news, too," Eliott scoffs, folding his arms. He's too overcome with laughter, too, to be discernible enough, though.

They haven't laughed this hard all night, but they're both willing to accept that exhaustion is probably the thing that's tickling them the most right now. But they let the laughter take over, letting it stretch and pull their ribs like an accordion until the only noise that comes out is a breathy wheeze. Fireworks go off in their chest, the finale to the symphony they've played all night, exploding in sparkling blooms of pain. But it's a pain they both can bear, a pain they're familiar with and have grown to love. A pain that eases with slow, steady breathing, with the gentle fluttering of eyelashes brushing against each other as their eyes slowly close, with the warm and soft cloud of dreamy sleep.

Eliott can tell Lucas is getting sleepy, and he smiles to himself as he adds one more thing to the list of things that hasn't changed. Lucas still yawns really wide, still shakes his head a little once his mouth closes. His eyelids are still heavy and hooded. His eyes are still a bleary streak of blue beneath them (these eyes remind Eliott of the blue that precedes dawn and succeeds dusk; the sky waking up and falling asleep). He sighs, long and heavy, his mouth falling ever so slightly open. Lucas was never good at keeping himself awake once he gets tired, always falling into it as easily as he always fell into his mother's embrace. Eliott reaches out and shakes him gently.

"I'll walk you home," he offers, carefully climbing the short distance down from his windowsill. He holds out his hand hopefully, and he smiles when Lucas takes it. The shape of Lucas's hand is still so familiar, and it still fits so well in Eliott's hand. But he makes sure he's the first to draw his hand away once Lucas's feet land softly against the wooden floor. Lucas's fingers catch on his ever so slightly, but they curl up tightly, his hand becoming a fist resting at his side.

They step carefully as they exit Eliott's room, the floor silent beneath them. Eliott knows they've probably woken up his mother a few times over the night, but he doesn't want them to create even more disturbances. They don't, thankfully, reaching the front door without incident. Eliott opens the door for Lucas, but he lingers a moment.

"You don't have to walk with me," he mutters, his voice as silvery as the fading moon.

"I want to," Eliott shrugs. "This is our first night as best friends again. I don't want to say goodbye to you until I have to."

Lucas half-smiles again, his gaze falling down to his feet. In the darkness, Eliott thinks he sees the faintest blush on Lucas's cheeks. (Maybe he's just imagining it, or maybe the small rays of moonlight is playing tricks on him.) "Okay," Lucas nods, looking back up at him. "You can walk me home."

Eliott's lips form a clumsy, tired smile. "Okay."

He waits for Lucas to walk through the door before following him, stepping out onto the front porch. The wood here creaks, but Eliott doesn't mind as much now. It's a little comforting, hearing the planks rasp gently beneath their feet shatters the eerie silence consuming the world right now; the quiet of a deep yet dreamless sleep.

"It's beautiful out here," Lucas says, pausing at the porch steps. He's facing south, towards the road, towards the forest. He looks so large standing in front of it, yet he's not a threatening presence before it. He's just another shadow, another patch of darkness. Eliott approaches him, standing tall beside him.

"It is," he agrees reverently, his eyes widening.

Distantly, ever so distantly, Eliott could see the faint lights of the heart of the city, glowing like little fireflies. The sky is darkest where they're both facing, too, the stars shining brighter and clearer as they stand stark against it. It's strange, Eliott thinks, how light drowns out the dark, even when it's outnumbered. He can't quite think of a better word for it than "strange," either. Maybe "wonderful."

"Your window has the wrong view, El," Lucas teases, smirking. "We could've stared at this all night."

Eliott shakes his head, chuckling. "The ocean helps my view, though."

"I prefer the forest," Lucas replies quietly. "The trees." He doesn't need to explain why.

"Will you ever love the ocean again?" Eliott asks, even quieter. "Like you did before?"

Lucas shrugs, a smile filled with both hope and doubt barely stretching across his face. "Maybe. Once I heal a little more."

"When you're ready, we could go swimming in there together," Eliott tries, ready to retract the offer if he needs to, if Lucas isn't as ready as Eliott thinks he is.

"Maybe someday," Lucas responds after a moment.

His words, on the surface, are vague, imprecise. But there's a promise in his voice that Eliott would recognize anywhere. Usually, his heart would swell or stir or sprint, but in this moment, it simply sighs . Content, safe.

"I wanna go home," Lucas says, then. His tone isn't annoyed or bossy, just exhausted. His hand brushes against Eliott's, pauses for a moment, then tangles itself in his. It tugs Eliott gently forward, down the stairs and into the cool, gray sand. It almost puts him in a trance, almost brings him back to some nights like this not too long ago, ones that have bled together into a fog. The only constant was Lucas and Polaris, and the other details didn't matter then. But, above and overall, it makes him smile .

"Sorry I'm dragging you," Lucas mutters, taking his hand away before Eliott can protest. He holds it in his other hand—not squeezing it, but still fidgeting with it, controlling it.

"It's okay," Eliott reassures, pretending not to notice Lucas's hands. "I know you're tired."

If Lucas replied, Eliott didn't hear him.

They get to Lucas's house faster than Eliott expected, and he can't explain why. The night is quickly coming to an end, and Lucas's eyes are quickly closing. Eliott—selfishly, he'll admit—wants to keep Lucas up a few minutes longer so they can watch the sunrise together. But he knows Lucas needs to sleep, and frankly, he does, too.

"Thanks for hearing me out," Lucas says as they linger by his front door. He has a small yet sweet, sleepy smile on his face. "And thanks for waiting for me to come around. You didn't have to."

"Thanks for hearing me out, too," Eliott nods, smiling back at him. "And I would've waited forever if you asked me to. And I would've done it because I want to, not because I have to."

Lucas's smile quirks up slightly, the smallest wrinkles forming by his eyes. Suddenly, he envelops Eliott in a hug, burying his face in his chest.

Eliott eases into the hug, letting his eyes close and his chin rest on top of Lucas's head. He holds Lucas tightly, offering him sanctuary, if only for a moment. He hasn't held Lucas like this in such a long time. He hadn't realized how much he's missed it. He thinks Lucas's warmth, the memory of it, will help him fall asleep a little faster for days, even weeks to come. He prays that his own warmth can do the same for Lucas.

"Sweet dreams," Eliott wishes into Lucas's hair, the strands soft and familiar as they brush against his lips.

"Good morning, Ellie," Lucas replies; a strange goodbye, but a goodbye that warms Eliott's chest with a soft, fuzzy light. He can feel Lucas smiling, too.

"Good morning, Lulu," he returns with a chuckle, tears springing in his eyes.

He waits for Lucas to pull away first, but he's trembling in his arms. He inhales sharply, a quiet sob, bunching Eliott's shirt in his hands. He holds Eliott tighter, nearly forcing all the air out of him. Eliott holds him back, almost just as tightly, hearing another hiccup or two from him. He doesn't know why Lucas is crying, but it makes the tears already brimming in his eyes spill over, silent and cold on his cheeks.

Lucas finally pulls away all too suddenly, quickly swiping the tears off his cheeks. He opens his door and enters without another word, but with a glance over his shoulder at Eliott. He smiles, sincere and sure, then slowly shuts the door behind him. Everything is silent, but peacefully so. The world still sleeps, its dreams beginning to fade. It'll wake soon, but him and Lucas will be fast asleep, their hearts reunited and both of their minds at peace. Eliott smiles, too.

He falls asleep that morning wishing he had told Lucas that he's realized he never needed things to be normal again. All he ever wanted, all he ever needed was his best friend, and he feels he can never be afraid again with Lucas by his side.

july 23rd, 1968

13:13

caen, france

Eliott wakes slowly, blinking away the thick haze of sleep from his eyes, his mind. His evening, night with Lucas honestly felt like a dream, like one of a handful he's had since he came home. Dreams where there was never a tear to stitch back up, or tempestuous minds to quiet. Dreams where the world as they knew it never lurched to a stop. But Eliott knows last night was real. He still feels Lucas's warmth, feels the shadow of his shape in his arms, against his chest. He hears every word of reassurance they spoke to each other, every bout of laughter that had long been waiting to meet the air, the world outside. Eliott smiles, savoring this moment he's found himself in. Where there once was a seam between dream and reality, there is now a flawless canvas, a clean slate. A second chance lies before both him and Lucas, promising to keep their footsteps light and their paths intertwined. Who else gets to start over like they can?

Something pulls him out of his reverie, though. A sound. The sound that for years has only lived in his memory. The sound he long thought had been buried with his father.

His mother is singing.

Her voice isn't loud enough in his ears to discern what song she's singing, but his ears have been so hungry for it that they recognize it even through layers of wood and dust. They latch onto it, drinking in any portion of it within their reach.

Eliott sits up, slowly approaches his door to see if he can hear better. She must be downstairs, probably in the kitchen. Through the crack in his door, he can hear enough to start piecing together a melody. Once he does, he's astonished that he didn't recognize it sooner. The lyrics come to his mind, to the tip of his tongue.

J'attendrai, le jour et la nuit, j'attendrai toujours ton retour

The song his mother sang to herself as his father gave everything for their country. She'd sing it to Eliott at night when he couldn't sleep when he was younger, and it never failed to make his eyelids heavy. She sang it that last Christmas they all had together, her voice warmer than the stove and oven combined. And she's singing it now, long after she's lost her husband, long after she nearly lost her son.

Her voice is different now. Still warm and round and beautiful, but frailer, almost clumsy from lack of use. She doesn't seem to sing it out of relief or joy either, like she used to. Before, she sang it knowing everything she had waited for had returned to her. Now, it's hopeful. She has more things to wait for now, but she knows that they'll come.

You may have my face, Eliott, his father's voice echoes in his mind. But that heart and everything else inside you? That shine in your eyes? That all came from your mother.

Eliott slowly sits himself down on the floor, emotion flooding his chest and his eyes. Tears start spilling, but he's smiling so widely every inch of his face begins to ache. He tries to stifle his own sobs in case it drowns out the sound of his mother's voice. They come out, still, but only in quiet hiccups and sharp risings and fallings of his chest.

He hasn't heard his mother sing in more than two years. He's come to the crushing realization so many times that he could never remember the last time he'd heard her sing. He's wished on a thousand—dare he say a million —stars that he could hear her sing again, even if it was only half of a note, even if she was off-key. He's sung that same song to himself night after night in that horrific institution but it never soothed him like it could when she sang it. Since he's come home, he's felt a nagging guilt that his mother is too worried about him to feel light enough to sing. But he can leave all that behind now. His mother is singing again!

As she starts singing the last few lines, Eliott leaps to his feet, opening his door and rushing down the stairs. She doesn't seem to hear him though, her voice not wavering as it travels throughout the house. He sees her standing at the kitchen sink, filling the kettle with water. She's smiling softly, her voice becoming more beautiful as it escapes through her curved lips.

Eliott bites back another sob as he waits for her to put the kettle on the stove, or to see him out of the corner of her eye; whichever came first. But both happen at the same time as she sings the very last line.

Eliott bounds towards her, pulling her into a crushing yet relieved hug.

"Honey, what's wrong?" she asks with concern in her voice, hesitantly hugging him back.

"Nothing," he replies, truthfully. With a sob, he explains, "You're singing again, Maman."

"Oh," she says, slightly startled. She holds him a little tighter, still unsure. "Oh," she repeats more quietly, almost a chuckle.

"I've missed hearing you sing," Eliott says, his voice thick and breaking. "I've missed it so much."

She sniffles, breathing out a deep, slow sigh. She rubs soothing circles into his back, rests her chin on his shoulder. She starts to tremble as her own tears roll down her cheeks, so Eliott holds her tighter. "I think I've missed it, too," she chokes out. She sobs, then, kissing his cheek. "I'm sorry."

"What are you sorry for, Maman?" he asks, chuckling lightly as he pulls away. "You're singing, so you're happy."

"I am happy," she nods, sniffling. "I listened to you and Lucas talking and laughing all night, and I just knew you were so happy. And when you're happy, I'm happy."

"We kept you up?" Eliott asks quietly, his heart swelling and constricting at the same time.

"You two have kept me up for years," she laughs. "Papa and I would stay awake and hear you two chatting away but we hardly ever minded. You were happy. And that was all that mattered. Besides, you know how Lucas is. His laugh is more of a shout than anything."

Eliott laughs as he tries to smile, but it wobbles too much as more tears roll down his cheeks.

"Now, there were also plenty of nights where we just wanted to sleep," his mother admits, but it makes Eliott laugh. She laughs, too, wiping the tears from his face. "But most of the time, we were happy because our son was happy."

"Your son is happy, Maman," Eliott replies, and it feels so good to say that. "I have my best friend back. And you're singing again. What more could I ask for?"

His mother beams , and through her tears, she suggests, "How about some breakfast?"

Eliott laughs, nearly chokes on it, then nods. "I'd love some breakfast, Maman."

Before he can say another word, his mother pulls a plate from the cabinet and starts filling it with food—golden, steaming eggs and rich, ripe strawberries and warm, perfectly toasted bread. The kettle whistles as she sets the plate on the table, and she doesn't waste a moment to start steeping a cup of tea for him, too. Eliott almost feels overwhelmed, but he can't force his lips into a frown, even if he tried with all his might. So, he finds his seat at the table and starts eating, letting it overwhelm his tongue and fill his stomach. He starts taking sips of his tea, too. It's familiar, floral, warms his soul.

His mother sits across from him, eating as well, but watching him with a fondness and pride that he's missed so much it nearly stops his breath.

And when he looks over at his father's chair, it seems to glow, seems to look at him and smile.

His mother wipes away his tears, and he feels his father's arms wrap around him from some distant place, some distant life.

august 6th, 1968

12:00

caen, france

It was Lucas's idea, visiting Eliott's father's grave. Eliott isn't sure where the idea came from, and he's surprisingly unashamed to admit that it's not necessarily a good one. The last time they were there together was at the funeral, the moment Eliott finally broke and fell into Lucas's arms. He didn't think he was ready to relive that moment, but Lucas was somehow able to convince him otherwise.

It's strange, sitting in the passenger's seat of Lucas's car. For some reason, Eliott could never quite picture either of them driving. He's so full of memories of them racing each other everywhere that he must never have considered any other possibility. Not to mention the fact that they're on their way to the cemetery. He doesn't like that Lucas is quiet either, and that he doesn't have the radio turned on. But he knows that Lucas has trouble finding the right words to say, and he knows that Lucas has a talent for using silence to his advantage. Eliott holds the small bunch of flowers a little tighter in his grip, the stems soft to the touch but sturdy under the slight pressure. He hopes for strength.

"Really, Eliott," Lucas finally says, as soon as he parks. "If we need to leave now or at any point, I can take you home. I… I know how hard this is for you."

Eliott sighs, shaking his head. "I think I'm okay."

Lucas smiles, small but reassuring. "Okay."

Silence falls between them again as they get out of the car and weave their way through the rows of graves, almost traveling through time. They pass some so weathered they can't quite read the inscriptions, others cracked or slightly burnt, all with unfamiliar names and dates. But as they travel further, they're less damaged, and the names begin to stir something in the back of their minds.

Eliott's steps begin to slow as they approach the grave they're looking for, and Lucas thankfully matches his pace. Eliott knows that this journey will never be easy, even though he's trekked this path several times now. He isn't sure if Lucas being by his side is helping him as much as it usually does, but he's still glad that he's here.

He isn't as lost as he used to be before. Now, he just looks for the wilted remains of the last flowers he left there. It always makes his heart sink a little, seeing them resting lifeless beneath his father's name. How many flowers have withered since he died, flowers that he never got to see? But, his soul reminds him. How many have bloomed?

He finds the few purple irises he brought last time easily, their petals now shriveled and tinged with gray. His eyes travel up, fleeting over the inscription before they find his father's name. He's almost memorized every grain of the stone, every imperfection forever staining the man he always thought was the closest thing to perfect someone could get. He sighs, and he feels Lucas gaze watching him carefully.

When no words burden his tongue, and Lucas stands silent beside him, Eliott kneels and carefully picks up the wilted flowers, almost flinching when they nearly turn to dust in his hand. He replaces them with the ones he's brought today; white, velvety roses with the faintest, sweetest perfume. He wonders how long these flowers will survive, how long they'll keep guard of his father's final resting place.

Once the flowers have been placed, Eliott lifts his hand and lets his fingers smooth over the dates, and the final, sealing words below it.

Un vaillant soldat, un mari dévoué et un père aimant

"Did I ever tell you what his last words were?" he hears himself ask, his hand dropping into his lap.

"No," Lucas answers behind him, quiet and slightly startled.

"'God loves us, our happy family,'" Eliott recites, and he can't help hearing his father's voice in his own—tearful, weak, hopeful. "Then he fell asleep. And when he woke up, God took him home. And away from us."

Lucas kneels next to him, not saying another word. He holds out his hand and it reaches Eliott's slowly, waiting patiently for a response. Eliott lets his hand slip into Lucas's, but it still lies limply, cold and mourning. Lucas doesn't squeeze, just holds on tight enough that he supports it, like an achor or a knot.

"How did you bear it?" Eliott asks fraily. "Losing two fathers?"

"I had people to be strong for," Lucas replies after a quiet, heavy moment.. "When Papa left, I had to be strong for Maman. And when your papa passed away, I had to be strong for you. Even when I didn't feel strong."

"You can be strong without feeling like it, Lucas," Eliott says, squeezing Lucas's hand once, ignoring the gaping hole Lucas has left in his chest. "I know you. You feel something and you find a dark corner to tuck it into so you don't have to worry about it and no one else will see it, either."

Lucas presses his lips together, his eyes glazing over slightly; lost in thought, in denial once again. Eliott squeezes his hand again, and Lucas looks back up at him. Their gaze locks for a moment, and Eliott can see the pain Lucas is trying to hide. Lucas's eyes are like once fine fabric that's been torn and sewn back together too many times, a scar that never fades like it should. Eliott could get lost in those eyes, but Lucas would never let him get so lost that he couldn't find his way back again.

"It's hard to wear your heart on your sleeve," Eliott continues, hope rising in his chest when Lucas doesn't look away. "And you can hide it sometimes, if you feel like it's in danger or you don't want a certain person to see it. But how can we know our own hearts if we don't let ourselves look at it, or study it, or just hold it close? Your heart sits alone in your chest, Lucas, when it needs you as much as you need it."

Lucas's eyes are wet now, and his hand is clinging onto Eliott's. "I know," he nods weakly, sighing shakily. "It's just been so long…"

"It hasn't," Eliott shakes his head, smiling kindly. "I saw it the other day when we finally talked. It was right here," he runs his thumb over the thin, pale skin of Lucas's wrist with the lightest touch he can manage. Lucas doesn't flinch. Eliott smiles wider, saying, "And it was beating and red and alive. It had a few scars, sure, but I could still recognize it. It was still one of the hearts that's been beating beside mine my whole life. It was still yours."

A single, solitary tear rolls down Lucas's cheek, but he's smiling. His gaze travels over to Eliott's father's grave, and an unreadable expression flashes across his face.

"You know," Eliott says, squeezing Lucas's hand again. "Maman always says that he's proud of me, but I think he's proud of you, too."

Lucas stifles a sob, covering his mouth with the back of his other hand. He rests his head on Eliott's shoulder, his body beginning to tremble. Eliott feels tears in his eyes, too, as he pulls Lucas closer.

"He couldn't stand you when we were younger," Eliott recalls, and Lucas laughs through his tears. "He thought you were grumpy and overdramatic and that you had a bad temper."

"He wasn't wrong," Lucas admits, chuckling.

"But he thought I was good for you," Eliott continues. "He thought I did a good job of keeping you in check. He thought we balanced each other out really well."

"When did I become tolerable for him?" Lucas asks.

"I think he liked you more and more as we grew up," Eliott answers, growing quiet as memories begin to trickle into his mind. "I thought he was gonna kill your papa when he found out that he abandoned you and your maman. He said that he knew that the war changed him, but he never thought it changed him like that. I don't think I'd ever seen him so angry before. Or since, I think."

Lucas tenses a bit, but he exhales slowly and relaxes. "I don't have the strength to be angry at him anymore. If he lost all his love in the war, then I never had a chance. He would never love me. He would never care about me. But I had Maman. And I had you and your parents. He's not worth my anger. He never was. I wish I had known that sooner. I wasted so much breath and so many tears on him."

"It's okay," is all Eliott can manage in reply. He isn't sure why words seem to fail him now.

"It's strange," Lucas says after another moment. "Your papa had me under his wing for only a few years, but when he died, I felt like I had lost a father. A true one, a real one."

"He had a talent for loving," Eliott replies, tears filling his eyes again. "He could make you feel like he's loved you for lifetimes with a single smile."

"That must be why I felt like I'd died, too, when I heard you tap on my window," Lucas concludes quietly. "But multiple of my selves died in that moment. Infinitely many."

"Maybe he's proof that your parallel universes exist. How else could so much love live inside him?"

He feels Lucas smile. "Maybe." His smile falls just as quickly as it came, but it's another moment before he speaks again. "I'm afraid of the day my papa will die. I'm afraid of how I'll feel. I don't want to mourn a man like him, but how can I not mourn my own father?"

"Grief is a strange thing," Eliott replies. "I don't think we get to choose who we mourn for, or what it makes us do, or how long it lives inside us. I think it chooses for us and we don't have any other choice but to feel it. And if you do find yourself mourning him when the time comes, I don't think it makes you a bad person. You'll just be grieving."

Lucas nods, thinking for a moment. "For some reason, I hope it isn't painful for him," Lucas mutters, almost of Eliott's earshot. "Not like it was for me."

Words fail Eliott again, and his mouth becomes dry. He smooths his thumb over Lucas's wrist again, and he still doesn't flinch.

"I hope you'll be there when it happens," Lucas sniffles, taking the burden of response off of Eliott's shoulders. But he chuckles lightly. "You owe me."

Eliott smiles weakly, letting his eyes close. "Don't worry. I'll be there, and if I'm not, I'll go through hell to make sure I'll get to you eventually."

"Thank you," Lucas replies, lifting his head to look at Eliott. "In advance, I guess."

"Well, then you're welcome in advance," Eliott teases, smirking.

Lucas chuckles, rolling his eyes and shaking his head fondly. "You piss me off, but you're my best friend so I'm stuck with you."

Eliott can't help but feel the sweet, familiar warmth that blooms in his chest. It threatens to send a fierce blush up to his cheeks, so he tries his best to hold it back. Thankfully, Lucas doesn't seem to notice. "Once you marry Chloé, I'll be out of your hair."

Lucas tilts his head, raising his eyebrows. "Oh, really?"

"If," Eliott replies, holding up a finger. "You have your kids call me Uncle Eliott."

Lucas scoffs and rolls his eyes again but he's smiling. "Fine," he laughs, holding out his hand.

Eliott takes it gladly and shakes it firmly, nodding once. "I'm glad we've agreed, Monsieur Lallemant."

"I'm glad as well, Monsieur Demaury," Lucas returns, nodding back. He dissolves into light, airy laughter then, resting his head on Eliott's shoulder again. Eliott hears him sigh contentedly, so at ease and so in relief Eliott feels his own heart and mind soothe, calm.

Eliott stares at his father's grave as silence falls between them once again, trying to decipher what emotions are flooding his chest, coursing through his veins.

"I miss him," he says, still unsure of what feeling, what meaning lies behind his words.

"I miss him, too," Lucas replies, quiet and distant as an echo.

"Right before he died," Eliott begins, letting the memory take over his words for him. "He told me that I'll learn how to miss him and smile at the same time."

"Have you learned yet?" Lucas asks. He isn't accusatory or judging, just simply questioning.

"Not quite," Eliott responds. "But I think I'm starting to learn."

"That's good," Lucas smiles. "He knows that you're trying."

Eliott smiles then, too. "I know. I've been feeling him a lot more lately. His presence. And it's not cold and empty anymore. It's warm and familiar. It's like I can feel his arms around me again, or his hands tousling my hair again. I think I'd forgotten that whispers can be so kind, but he's reminded me."

"Maman used to say that whispers happen when our heart has so much to say it crawls up our throat and takes over our voice," Lucas recalls absent-mindedly, his fingers tracing an unfamiliar pattern on the back of Eliott's hand. "And that's why they're always quiet. And why some words are almost always whispered. And why whispers are only meant for certain people's ears."

"That's a strange thought," Eliott remarks. "But I don't mind it."

"I don't, either," Lucas agrees. "It is kind of nice when you think about it."

"Have you told her that you're pushing the wedding back yet?" Eliott asks quietly, hoping he won't upset Lucas.

"We have," Lucas nods, his voice level. "She was a little upset, but I think she understood. Her and Chloé actually still went to look at dresses because she was so excited, Chloé just didn't buy one. So I didn't lie to you that one night."

"Did she find one she liked?" Eliott smiles.

"Yeah," Lucas smiles, too. "She said it was really plain but really elegant. She said that it makes her feel like she's in a Jane Austen novel, whatever that means."

Eliott chuckles lightly, shaking his head.

"She said it had short sleeves, though," Lucas continues, chuckling along. "So she'll need to find a long-sleeved one probably, since we're having a Christmas wedding. Either that or I lend her my coat all night. That's romantic, isn't it?"

Eliott nods, humming. "How are you going to balance Christmas and your anniversary, though? As far as gifts?" he asks, nearly snickering.

"Couldn't tell you," Lucas sighs, but he's holding back laughter, too. "We'll figure it out, I guess."

"And I'm still your best man?" Eliott asks hopefully.

Lucas nods. "Of course you are. Who else would be my best man?"

"Well, you said Baz," Eliott replies teasingly.

Lucas just shakes his head in response this time, and things go quiet. Eliott can't help but feel a strange tension between them now, but he doesn't know where it came from or how to ease it away.

"Eliott?" Lucas says.

"Hm?" Eliott hums.

"Can we go home?" his voice is quiet again, almost timid.

"Of course," Eliott nods.

Lucas lifts his head and rises to his feet, not saying another word. He has an expression on his face that Eliott can only describe as blank, distant. But then he looks down at Eliott, his eyes quietly desperate. Eliott stands quickly, keeping eye contact with Lucas, but it's almost too much to bear. Lucas's eyes look like the ocean the day that he drowned—dark and fathomless, filled with something known and yet unspoken (Lucas will die; Eliott will never fall in love again). Eliott scrambles, trying to think of something to say, something that doesn't cross a line or make things worse. He opens his mouth, but pauses when Lucas takes the smallest step closer, tilts his chin up the slightest bit. His arms gently wrap around Eliott's waist and pull him close, then he buries his face in Eliott's shirt.

Eliott freezes, feeling Lucas's hand drift up to weave into his hair, feeling Lucas's warmth breath tickle against his skin. He lets out a shocked, stuttering breath, then wraps his arms around Lucas, his hands finding their way through Lucas's hair, too. "I don't know what's wrong, Lucas," he whispers. "But you don't have to talk about it."

Lucas rests his head against in the crook of Eliott's neck, and it still fits like it used to. "Merci," he breathes against Eliott's skin. "Merci."

"Je suis là," Eliott responds, his lips brushing against the small, pointed tip of Lucas's ear. "It's okay, mon —" Eliott stops himself, biting his tongue to cut off the forbidden word resting on the tip of it. "Mon frère," he says instead, using the first word that came to his mind. His stomach turns and his heart clenches, but he can't take the word back.

Lucas starts to pull away then, his hands the last to leave Eliott's body as they cling to his shirt, gently letting go and falling defeated at Lucas's sides. "Let's go home," he says, a finality in his voice that's sharp and unforgiving and forces a lump down Eliott's throat.

"Okay," Eliott manages.

They leave Eliott's father's grave in silence. The clouds darken above them, but they never shed a tear. The flowers that are keeping a dead man company wait patiently, either for the moment the clouds burst or they die of thirst.

As Lucas drives, Eliott asks if they're still okay. Lucas looks at him, smiling shyly and nodding. His eyes are calmer now, but they seem to be chanting some phrase that both of them recognize but neither dare say out loud.

Nothing will ever be the same again. We were fools to think we could make ourselves shrink and that the world would shrink with us.

august 10th, 1968

10:28

caen, france

Eliott's mother is sitting in the front lobby at his request, in the chair next to the vase of vibrant lilies that look just as fresh as they did a month ago. But he finds himself not feeling the need to hold her hand like he did last time as he waits for Dr. Garnier. He feels much braver now, almost like a child slowly learning courage. He finally jumped in the water that seemed so dark and deep, and felt its cool arms wrap around him and hold him afloat, and now he wants to get back in the water again. And he thinks Dr. Garnier will be happy to hear that Eliott and Lucas are friends again, and that he's been taking his medication, and that he's made so much progress in the past month. But he's worried about Lucas, especially after the way he was behaving at his father's grave. He knows Dr. Garnier isn't Lucas's therapist, but maybe he can offer some insight on how to help Lucas, how to comfort him.

The door opens, then, and Dr. Garnier enters. He looks up and smiles at Eliott, who grins back at him. Dr. Garnier's smile widens, then sits across from Eliott.

"You seem to be doing much better," he remarks, setting his clipboard aside. "I was worried you made another appointment because you weren't doing as well."

"I'm not perfect," Eliott shrugs. "But things are much better now."

"How's your mother?" Dr. Garnier asks politely.

Eliott smile widens a bit. "She's fantastic," he replies. "She's singing again. She hasn't sung since Papa died."

"That's good to hear," Dr. Garnier responds genuinely. "I'm glad that you're both doing well."

"I am, too," Eliott nods.

"And did you get to talk to Lucas?" Dr. Garnier continues, the smile not leaving his face.

"I did," Eliott smiles back. "We talked for a long time. We told each other everything. There's no more secrets or animosity between us anymore."

"That's good," Dr. Garnier grins. "That's great. It's important, having people who will support you. People who are in your corner."

Eliott nods. "Lucas definitely is," he pauses, then, slowly remembering what happened a few days ago, thinking through how to best phrase his concerns. "But I'm worried about him. Everything's been great so far, but he hasn't been himself the past few days."

"What do you mean when you say he's not himself?" Dr. Garnier asks, the smile falling from his face.

"He's anxious... but hopeless at the same time," Eliott replies, his brow furrowing as he thinks through his words. "It's like he knows that something bad is gonna happen, but he can't do anything to stop it. He wants to give up and let it happen but he can't."

"Do you have any idea of what could be on his mind?"

Eliott considers, running his thumb along his lower lip. "Him and his fiancée had to push back their wedding a year, but he wouldn't react like this if that was what was bothering him. And I don't know what else could be going on with him. I don't… I really don't know what's wrong."

"And you said you don't want to talk to him about it because you think he may not be ready to?" Dr. Garnier clarifies.

Eliott nods. "And he's too damn stubborn, anyway," he sighs, shaking his head. "Even if I tried to ask him what's wrong, he would just shut down or get angry or just brush it off. But it hurts because if he's upset, I feel upset, too. I hate seeing him so… So troubled ."

"Has he ever been like this before?" Dr. Garnier asks, his brow furrowing.

Eliott takes a deep breath as thousands of memories flood through his mind. Lucas bathed in golden sunlight while black ink spills from his mouth, but Eliott kisses it away until he's golden again. Lucas listening to Eliott's manic ranting but his eyes stare at him as if he were a stranger, and Eliott kisses him for the last time before he drowns. Lucas held two years of unspeakable pain on his shoulders and thrust it onto Eliott's, his mouth cold and unforgiving and sharp. Lucas almost becoming a slab of stone himself amongst the dozens in the cemetery, a shadow passing over him and leaving him cold and hollow.

Eliott nods as he wills the memories away, a lump forming in his throat.

"What happened the other times?" Dr. Garnier asks. "How were you able to get through to him? Did he always tell you eventually?"

Eliott considers for a moment, then nods. "Eventually," he agrees. "It just takes him awhile. He has to try to hold everything in his chest first, but once it becomes too much, it all spills out."

"What was wrong with him those other times, if I may ask?" Dr. Garnier is cautious, and Eliott can't help but feel grateful for it.

"There was one time where he was kind of like that," Eliott begins, choosing a memory that won't reveal too much. "The day he drowned. I was in a mania, and he had never seen me like that. Not as bad as I was that day, at least. He was afraid of me, I could tell. Or maybe of the things I was saying or doing, but he wanted to get away from me. Even if it was just for the day. But I wouldn't let him, because I was afraid of letting him out of my sight. And look where that got him. But… I'm not in a mania right now. I'm not depressed, either. I'm normal right now. So, he isn't worried about me, or afraid of me."

"Okay," Dr. Garnier replies quietly, nodding. "Is there another occasion where this happened that you'd be willing to share?"

Eliott nods, trying to be careful again. "Just earlier this week, we visited my father's grave," he begins. "I think we were both anxious about it, because the last time we were there together was at his funeral. But we got there, and we sat in front of his grave, and we talked like everything was normal. But something changed. Lucas wasn't talking as much, and he was just staring at the grave but there was something clouding his eyes. He was miles away, and I didn't know how to reach him. When we left, I just hugged him and made sure to tell him that I was there for him."

"Was Lucas close with your father, too?" Dr. Garnier asks after a moment.

Eliott sighs, nodding. "It's so selfish of me, but I always forget how much Papa's death affected him. He's told me before that he didn't let himself grieve too much in front of me because he felt he needed to be strong for me. If I could go back, I would check on Lucas more. Comfort him for a change, instead of him comforting me all the time."

"There's not a wrong way to grieve, Eliott," Dr. Garnier cuts in, his voice firm but kind. "Especially since it's one of the most consuming emotions we can feel. And once we look back on such a dark period with the light that we've found again, there's a million things we could find that we regret. And regret was one of the many things that tore you two apart in the first place. Don't let it do it again. Lucas needs you as much as you need him, and I think you know that."

"You think that's what could be wrong?" Eliott asks quietly. "He's still grieving?"

"I can't tell you how Lucas feels," Dr. Garnier responds. "Only he can tell you that, because he's the only one who can feel what he feels. But, if you reach out to him, or he reaches out to you, that's your opportunity to make amends for what you feel you did wrong. If he is grieving, and if he's grieving a thousand things at once, you can help him. You could lessen his regrets, guide him to the light more quickly."

Eliott nods, surety filling his chest. "Okay."

"But," Dr. Garnier adds. "I can tell how much you care about Lucas. And it's a beautiful thing to care that much about someone, but you need to keep a fraction of that, however small it may be, for yourself. You can't take care of Lucas if you don't take care of yourself. All the love you have for him won't do him any good if you don't have the strength to give it to him."

Eliott tries to keep himself from flinching at the word love , but it doesn't work the way he wants it to. And, unfortunately, Dr. Garnier notices. His eyebrows shoot up for a moment, but then his expression changes to something soft. Understanding? Maybe even pity?

"Eliott," he begins softly, kindly, patiently. "It's okay if you love Lucas. And it's okay if you're in love with him…" he trails off as he studies Eliott's face, looking for a reaction. He pauses another moment before asking, "Are you in love with him?"

Eliott feels tears spring in his eyes, feels his lower lip wobble. He nods, sending a tear or two rolling down his cheek. "Hopelessly," he replies, nearly choking on a sob. "Completely."

"And he doesn't love you back," Dr. Garnier continues quietly.

Eliott takes a deep breath before shaking his head.

"Can you look at me, Eliott?" Dr. Garnier asks, his tone never forceful or cruel.

Eliott takes a few more deep breaths then lifts his head, looking into Dr. Garnier's kind eyes.

"I understand," Dr. Garnier says simply. He doesn't say more, and he doesn't need to. Eliott understands, too. He feels something strange fills his chest. Comfort? Familiarity? Dr. Garnier continues, "This kind of thing is hard enough for people who don't have to keep their love in the dark. It's especially hard for people like us, because we never know if someone could ever love us, too. When love becomes this forbidden thing, we want it even more. We need it even more."

Eliott nods weakly, that strange feeling becoming stronger and stronger.

"There have been plenty of boys I fell in love with growing up that would never even glance my way," Dr. Garnier chuckles lightly. He pauses, his smile and laugh fading. "And there were boys I fell in love with when I fought in the war, and I watched most of them die in a hailstorm of bullets or in the cloud of a grenade. But, not too long after I made it home, I found a boy who loved me, too."

"What's his name?" Eliott asks, smiling weakly.

"Louis," Dr. Garnier replies, grinning. "And I'll love him forever. But it took so many heartbreaks for me to finally find him. People like us shouldn't have to go through so much pain to find the person we'll love more than anything, but we're never alone in our pain. There are more of us out there than you think, Eliott. We're all hiding, but since our eyes get adjusted to the dark we start seeing each other. We're never alone. There's someone out there for us, just like there's someone out there for everyone else."

Eliott wants to smile, but his tears are coming faster, now. "I don't think I could ever love someone more than I love Lucas," he chokes out. "Maybe it's because I thought he loved me, too."

"You did?" Dr. Garnier asks, sympathetic.

Eliott nods. "We were together," he begins, through his tears. "Before everything happened. He kissed me for the first time about a month before Papa died. We wrote letters to each other while I was at the institution, and he wrote me the most beautiful letters. But, apparently, none of it was real. He started dating Chloé and now they're engaged. He says he was confused back then. Just a boy. That he knows he isn't queer now. That he doesn't love me in that way and he never has. And I can't make him love me, but I want to, and—" Something occurs to Eliott, then, a thought he wishes he could erase and say isn't true. "What if I'm the reason he's upset?"

"Eliott—" Dr. Garnier cuts in, but Eliott's voice drowns it out.

"What if he knows I'm still in love with him and that's why he's trying to get away from me?" he rambles, his voice thick and breaking. "What if he thinks I'm a disgusting sinner and what if he wonders why he ever decided to give me a second chance? What if he thinks that I'm going to kiss him again and force him into something he doesn't want? What if he can't wait to go to school in Paris and marry Chloé so he won't have to talk to me or see me anymore? What if I've ruined everything again?"

"Eliott," Dr. Garnier repeats firmly, reaching and placing his hand on Eliott's knee. "Can you look at me again, please?"

Eliott lets a few more sobs escape his throat before finding the strength to lift his head again. He can't quite see through his tears, but he can feel Dr. Garnier's kindness. He waits for Eliott to calm down before he starts speaking.

"I think you need to talk to Lucas again," he says softly. "Tell him how you're feeling right now. And if he's ready, he can tell you the real reason why he's upset. I'm willing to bet that it doesn't have anything to do with you. But if he isn't ready, at least he knows what's on your mind. At least you're being honest with him. It's like I said before. Regrets and doubt has built a wall between you two before, and you've both torn it down. Don't let another wall be built. Neither of you deserve that."

"And what if I am the reason?" Eliott asks weakly. "And please don't tell me that I won't be. What do I do then?"

Dr. Garnier sighs, thinking for a moment. "Just come here. Tell whoever is at the front desk that you need to see me immediately. That it's an emergency. I'll help you. We can talk through it. Okay?"

Eliott nods. "Okay."

"I was about to say, too, that you could talk to your mother," Dr. Garnier continues, trailing off. "Does she know?"

Eliott shakes his head. "I haven't thought much about telling her," he admits, shrugging. "Maybe if I give myself some time I could."

"Do it whenever you're ready, Eliott," Dr. Garnier replies. "And telling someone who you are is one of the hardest things you'll ever do. But I can tell your mother adores you. She reminds me of my mother. And when I told her about Louis and I, she hugged me so tightly I felt I couldn't breathe, but I couldn't have cared less about that. And, if it doesn't go the way you hope it will, come here and say it's an emergency. I'll be there to help you then, too.

Eliott nods again. "I will."

"I was you, once, Eliott," Dr. Garnier continues. "Confused and lost and lonely. That's why I decided to become a psychiatrist. I knew there was bound to be someone who was like me and who would need guidance. I'm older now, and that gives me the opportunity to tell people what I needed to hear when I was their age."

Eliott lets himself smile. "Can you tell me something, then? Something you needed when you were 19?"

"I would've been about to go to war," Dr. Garnier says, taken aback. He thinks for a moment. "I would've told 19-year-old Pierre that the world becomes more beautiful after you feel like you've lost it. After you feel like you don't belong on it, or after it feels like everything within it has turned on you. Once you learn how to fight back and once that all surrenders, the world is more beautiful than it's ever been before. There are colors everywhere, and laughter constantly floats in the air, and the earth is steady and loving beneath your feet."

Eliott's smile falters, remembering the world he sees when he looks into Lucas's eyes. The world Dr. Garnier is describing is nothing compared to the world in Lucas's eyes.

"The world will be yours soon enough, Eliott," Dr. Garnier continues. "It'll belong to you and whoever you decide to share it with. Whether it's Lucas, or someone else. And everything will be okay. I can promise you that."

Eliott lets his eyes shut for a moment, imagining sharing a world with Lucas. Surrounded by water that will never drown them, city lights mingling with an ever star-riddled sky. The only music that exists is Lucas's laughter, his voice. Everyone they love is alive and well and happy. Nothing is wrong or dark or dirty. There is no sin.

He clings to this world, to this fantasy. He doesn't know what'll happen if everything there crumbles, and he doesn't want to think about it.

"Thank you so much, Dr. Garnier," Eliott says, smiling weakly.

"You're very welcome, Eliott," Dr. Garnier returns. "Go home and get some rest. And keep being strong. I know you are."

"Thank you," Eliott replies as he stands. "And you'll have to tell me more about Louis."

Dr. Garnier chuckles. "I could talk about him all day, so I'm glad to hear that." He guides Eliott to the door, opening it for him. "Take care of yourself for me, Eliott. And please let me know as soon as possible if you need anything."

"I will," Eliott nods. "Thank you so much again. Have a good day."

"You, too, Eliott," Dr. Garnier returns, quietly shutting the door.

Eliott finds his mother reading a magazine in the lobby. She must've seen him out of the corner of her eye, because she quickly puts the magazine aside and walks over to him.

"Hi, honey," she greets sweetly. Her face is suddenly etched with concern. "Have you been crying? Are you okay?"

"I'm okay, Maman," he promises, rubbing at his eyes. "Really."

She sighs in relief. "Okay, wonderful. Do you wanna get home now?"

Eliott nods gratefully. "Yes, please."

Him and his mother leave, locking arms, and Eliott breathes a little more easily.

Still, though, a lingering thought in the back of his mind: have I ruined everything?

#SURPRISE #ttmc #skam france #elu #eliott demaury #lucas lallemant #skam france fic #elu fic #my writing #hush bailey

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