#I discovered him through a book that had his painting on the cover

[jascurka]

The chessboard landscape ai image is haunting me. stop sharing it please and redirect your attention to actual artists.

Here are some works by Jacek Yerka, a traditional painter and a big inspiration for me since I first discovered his paintings.

Sourced from Yerkaland official page of Jacek Yerka and Polish Masters of Art

Edit: I accidentally included one work by a different artist!

The last painting, Krynica was made by Jacek Szynkarczuk

[nattyluvs]

things you love about bf!skz

pairing: boyfriend!skz x gn!reader

warnings: fluff, drabbles cursing(?), mentions of being a princess

wordcount: 1.3k

bang chan

out of the year or so you two have dated, you haven't failed to notice how observant chan is. even if its something very small thats different about you, he will always point it out.

"there's a bruise on the side of your thigh, what happened?" he would ask, concerningly.

even when you get new clothes, he notices. "are those pants new? they look good on you" he says with a grin on his face. you're starting to believe his brain has yo enter new data everytime theres something different about your appearance.

or the time where you had come back from hanging out with your friends, and the next morning he said "did you get a new piercing? your ear has an extra hole."

chan would point out. this specific scenario ended up with your reply, "channie, how did you even notice...? i took the piercing out already." which thoughtfully, he responded "what can i say, the longer i look at your the more i notice"

lee know

when someone says "dont judge a book by its cover" it definetly applies to people, especially lee know. before getting to know him, he was a completely different person. he cares more than you'd think, almost too much you'd feel like a burden.

like the one time you went out to a private club to celebrate a friend's birthday. you had gotten a little more than tipsy, accidently calling lee know to tell him "how much you miss your boyfriend" and "i need a hug from my boyfriend right now" which gave him the signal to drive his car out to pick you and your friends up, even letting them stay the night at your house.

everytime your mood even changes slightly, he gets worried. even if nothing had even happened to you. he always asks "are you okay love?" and makes sure to take over cooking for that night (and cook very well, mind you) he just wants to make sure you're always happy, because if you're sad, he's sad.

changbin

one thing about changbin is that he's always worried about you. especially for your safety. sometimes it gets a little out of hand, he freaked out when you tripped while you were walking after your date.

you were wearing a new pair of shoes you hadn't gotten used to.

of course, you hadn't fallen to the ground. you kept your balance before you could fall. although, with his quick reflexes he grabbed your waist to pull you back up. (even though you werent going to fall)

changbin being the person he is, proceeded to say, "i know we just went on a date, but dont hurt yourself falling for me sweetheart." you lightly shoved him, annoyed at the cheesy line and embarassed at the petname. to make sure you didnt hurt yourself again, he kept one of his hands on your back, as if he was guiding the way.

hyunjin

no matter how many people are in a room, hyunjin is always looking at you. you first noticed this a little after you had first met. your roomate had invited jisung over, which led to hyunjin coming too. you were all having a conversation at the dinner table, but the only thing you could focus on was the way

hyunjin was looking at you so intensely.

later when you two had eventually starting dating, you had come to discover that was his "im interested in this thing infront of me" face. like how he stared at paintings in an art gallery he found interesting, he stared at you in the same amazement.

another time was after you decided to become a trainee. you and 7 other nee friends were going to perform a cover of one of stray kids' songs. this was a few years after they debuted, and since you two began dating before his debut, obviously he was thrilled when you were on stage covering his song. you could see him in the vip area, embarassingly blowing kisses and hearts at you. he had on a "disguise" but you could tell it was him from a mile away.

han jisung

jisung is overly thoughtful. he likes to express his love for you through words, and tries to do it regularly, as if you're going to forget he loves you. one of the ways he expresses this undying love for you is through sticky notes. specifically, he bought different colors for everyday of the week.

for the days you came back from work late, he left a note on the kitchen counter, usually resulting in seeing him asleep on the couch with the tv playing. you felt bad he tried to stay awake in order to see you when you got home, but his effort was appreciated. the notes usually consisted or something like, "y/n! i hope you had a good day at work, even if you didnt i'm still proud of you. theres food in the fridge for you! - love hannie"

the other way he expressed his love for you was through his music. you went to the studio to suprise him one time, and overheard on a conversation including chan and changbin. they were complaining about how all of the songs han wrote were love songs. you could tell they appreciated it, but an entire album can't be love songs. it was even more embarassing for han when you had accidently heard one of his unreleased songs, a sweet love song, lyrics flowing perfectly with his voice.

felix

one habit felix will never get out of is touching. even before you dated, you could tell he was a skinship person. no matter what, he feels the need to touch you at all times. whether its a hug, holding hands, or even touching your fingers. you don't mind of course. you think its sweet.

he even admitted that theres this feeling of uneasy-ness when he isn't near you. even if you are near eachother, he has the urge to do something in order to be touching you, like a sense of overprotecting.

even doing simple things, like while making dinner, he has to be hugging you from the back. or while you're cutting up some vegatables, he feels the need to guide your hand while you cut, as if it was the first time you picked up a knife. whenever you walk side by side, hands are always entertwined. sitting down at the dinner table? his hand is on your thigh, or ontop of your hand.

seungmin

seungmin thinks about you alot, even if he doesnt admit it to your face. something you've realized is how much attention he pays when you speak, always remembering small things you tell him.

like the time you were on lunch break at work, scrolling through whatever social media app, you sent him a desert recipe you wanted to try sometime. a day or so later, you got home and he had followed tbe recipe in order to make it, even if it wasn't perfect. he wants to make you happy and keep it that way.

or how when he asked to be your boyfriend, he got you and him matching necklaces. because beforehand you had told him about your friend and their boyfriend, and how they got matching bracelets and they were so cure. saying how "you'd love to have a matching item with someone"

jeongin

he loves spoiling you, no matter how much you refuse and try to repay him. he always says "your happiness and love is the only payment i need" with a smile on his face. he was so sweet, but you wanted to make sure he was happy too sometimes.

if you see something through the window of a store you like? hes already at the counter getting ready to pay. It would take 3 hands to count the amount of times he had to fight for the bill, not wanting to make you pay for it. you felt bad not paying for your portion of the meal, no matter how much he reassured you.

he makes sure to give you princess treatment if you're feeling even the slightest bit down. when you had a bad day at work, he immediately out everything else he was supposed to do aside, and planned a relaxing spa evening at home for you. together, you did skincare, massages, and he even let you paint his nails.

likes and reblogs are appreciated!

taglist form

a/n: sorry a few of them are longer than the other ones, thinking of writing a fic based off of one of these tbh...also yes i am stalling for my smau rn u caught me

[bloatedandalone04]

Wrapped Around Your Finger - Part 0.5

Series Masterlist | Original Fic

➪in which you are days away from starting your program and anakin gets used to tour life without you by befriending the sometimes overly-flirty photographer.

PSA: strongly suggested to read the warnings before proceeding.

WC; 3.6k | Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine ♡ | THANK YOU FOR 4K FOLLOWERS MWAH

You throw your bag onto your twin sized bed with a huff. 

After sitting through a two and a half hour seminar about your program, you left that building knowing nothing more about it than you did a week ago. You didn’t even get to meet your instructor, despite being informed that he would try and make it to the orientation day. 

Alas, he was a no show, and you really hope he is more professional than this first impression of him. 

You sit next to your bag and play with the zipper for a bit as you glance around the room. It was nice, sure, but you quickly discovered that nothing compared to the room you shared with Anakin back in your apartment. Having just your things on one side of the room looked wrong. Your books on the shelf looked wrong without having his sheet music next to them. Your cardigan that was hung up in the wardrobe looked wrong without one of Anakin’s leather jackets next to it. Even your bed looked wrong since it wasn’t big enough to hold more than one person comfortably. 

Sure, Anakin’s bunk on the bus was a lot smaller, but it still felt more right than sleeping by yourself does. 

You bite down on your lip as you pull out your phone and check the time.

Since it had been a few days since you last saw him, the time zone difference between you and Anakin was going to be a bit difficult to figure out. He was in Norway now, so thankfully there was only an hour difference, and you were able to figure out what he could possibly be doing right now. 

It was nearing six PM now, and he and the guys would be set to be on stage within another hour or so, and you really wanted to talk to him. 

Your fingers play with the thread on your blanket as your free hand types out a quick message. 

Ani, I miss you. Are you able to talk for a second? 

And you were barely able to swipe out of the text app before he was calling you. Bringing your phone up to your ear, you greet him with a dumb smile painted on your lips, “Hi, Ani,”

You hear him sigh quietly as you pull at the thread some more. “Hi, baby,” he says back and your smile only grows. “I miss you, too. So fucking much, I’m going insane.”

You laugh and move to sit further back on your bed, bringing your knees up to your chest with a shake of your head. “No, you’re out touring the world. You’ll forget all about me soon enough,”

Anakin laughed and the sound had your body tingling. “Yeah, and I’ll also become the next president. Add that to the list of things that will never happen,” he says and you blush a bit as you lean back against your pillow. “How was that orientation thing? Is your instructor nice?”

You chew on your chapped lip as you debate on whether or not you should tell him that you had a pretty bad day now or after he was done with the show. You didn’t want him worrying about you before he was supposed to go on stage, and you also didn’t want to come off as some sad girl who had a shitty day just because she wasn’t able to spend it with her boyfriend. 

“It was fine,” you answer and pull the blanket up from its spot at the end of the bed. You loosely throw it over your legs and resume pulling at the threads. “A bit boring, but that was to be expected, I guess. I met this guy who is in the same program as me and we made plans to get coffee at some point. His name is Evan. And my instructor was a no show, so I didn’t get to meet him.”

You hear muffled sounds coming from his end before he was mumbling an, “Oh, that’s….professional,” 

You laugh quietly, looking over at the curtain covered window with a soft sigh. “I really do miss you, Ani,” 

He had only been gone a few days, but you couldn’t remember a time you felt this fucking lonely. You felt a bit pathetic, but could you really be blamed?

“I miss you, too, princess,” he said just as quietly, and it felt like the two of you fell into your own little world. “It’s weird not having my cheerleader waiting backstage for me.” 

You groan and lean back  against the headboard. “Don’t remind me,” you mumble. “I can only imagine all the girls who would swap places with me right now to be your cheerleader, and how many think I’m fucking stupid for being here and not with you.”

“Hey,” he scolded. “You are not stupid. I’ve said it so many times now, but I’ll gladly say it again; I’m fucking proud of you. You deserve to be there rather than stuck backstage while I’m off living my life. Think of all that will come from this, all the opportunities that will be thrown at you. You should be excited, ‘cause I know I am.”

“I’m excited,” you promised, bringing your hand up to chew on your fingernail. “I’m just lonely and missing you. I’ll be fine.”

“You just need to find something to do,” he suggested. “Your classes start in a few days, right? Go sightseeing or meet up with your classmates. Oh, I know, go see that big fucking clock.”

You laugh loudly, and you knew he was probably smiling right now at his successful attempt to cheer you up. “The Big Ben?”

“Whatever its name is,” 

You laugh again and drop your hand. “Ani, that’s like a two and a half hour drive from me,”

“Take one of those fancy trains,” 

“You’re too much,”

“You love me,” 

“I do,” you agree. “I love you a lot.”

He laughed and the sweet sound had you smiling. “I love you a lot more,”

-

Another location officially crossed off the list. 

Anakin was a sweaty mess as he handed his guitar off to one of the stage guys before making his way to the exit. Before he could make it very far he felt a hand wrap around his forearm and pull him off to the side to where the speakers were. “Hey!” Liz beamed, grinning up at him and holding her camera close to her chest. “You were amazing!” 

This was the second night in a row that she had stopped him from leaving to congratulate him, and the second time he was instantly reminded of you. 

Liz’s skin was slightly sweaty but it was nothing compared to his own, and Anakin smiled at her as he put a few feet of distance between them. “Thanks,” he said. “You got some nice shots?”

“Of course I did,” she rolled her eyes playfully. “All my shots of you are nice.”

Anakin’s smile faded a bit as he took a hand towel from one of the stage guys and wiped away the sweat from the back of his neck. There was that weird feeling again. Was she being flirty or just trying to hype up someone she considered a client? “Is that right?” He asked, watching as she nodded and bit down on her lip. His eyes instinctively flickered to her mouth and he straightened up once he caught himself. “Well, I can’t wait to see them.” 

When he turned to leave again, her hand reached out and grasped his bicep, her palm fully covering your initial as she moved to stand in front of him again. “I can show you some now, if you want?” She offered, making him hold back a cringe as he tried to think of a way to nicely reject her. 

He feels his phone buzz in his pocket and his face relaxes slightly when he reads your text.

Princess: I miss you already. Can we facetime after your show?

His heart skipped a beat at the fact that, despite you not even being here, you were able to save him from this interaction. “I can’t,” he said and looked up at her. “I’m gonna call Y/n as soon as I get back to the bus.”

Her face fell a bit as she backed away. “Oh, right,” she mumbled. “You and your girlfriend are so cute. How long have you two been together?”

“Five years in a few weeks,” he answered, fighting off a dumb grin as he thought about his milestone with you. 

“Wow,” she lifted both brows as she gave him a forced grin. “You were just kids when you met then.”

Anakin furrowed his brows as he pocketed his phone again. “I guess,” 

He hadn’t really given it much thought. Yeah, you two met when you were super young, and you still are young now and have lasted longer than most couples in their thirties, so he wasn’t really seeing the point she was trying to get at. 

“Anyway, I don’t want to keep her waiting,” he trailed off, watching as she nodded. 

“Oh, sure,”’ she shrugged. “Have a good night, Anakin.”

“You too,” he replied, already walking away and towards the parking lot door. 

He was barely inside the bus before he was calling you, his tired eyes staring back at him as he waited for you to pick up. “Ani,” you nearly gasped when you did answer, your big smile making his own form.

“Baby,” he murmured, walking past the couch and heading straight towards his bunk. “You look so pretty.”

You look down at yourself and laugh before shaking your head. “I’m wearing pajamas, Anakin,”

“You’re wearing my shirt,” he pointed out. “You look so fucking hot.”

You blush a bit and he wants nothing more than to be with you right now. He wants to see that pretty blush of yours in person. “Don’t say that to me,” you begged, scrunching your brow cutely. “I refuse to be turned on when you’re not here.”

Anakin smirks as he passes his bunk and enters the bathroom. “Have you had to touch yourself yet?” He shamelessly asked as he locked the door and leaned against the sink. 

“Anakin,” you blush even more as you sit up against your headboard. “I have a roommate.”

“Is she there with you right now?” 

“No,”

“Then what’s the problem?” He asked as he used one hand to strip himself of his shirt. “Come on, princess, imagine how good I’d be making you feel if I was there right now.”

He watches as you bite down harshly on your bottom lip. “Ani,”

“Imagine how good my fingers make you feel,” he continued, watching the way your eyes filled with lust. 

“Anakin,” you warned. “I swear.”

He smirked a bit, dropping his shirt to the floor. “I miss you, baby,” he murmured, his eyes following the curve of your jaw as you turned to hide your face in your pillow. “It’s not the same without you here.”

You whined a bit as you lifted your head. “London is fucking boring without you. Imagine all the fun we’d be having right now,”

“I’m sure we’d be having a lot of fun,” came his dirty remark and you quickly broke eye contact again. “Quit looking away, baby, I wanna see your pretty face.”

“I can’t look at you when you say those things to me,” you confessed, turning back to face him with a blush covering your cheeks. 

“Okay, okay, I’ll stop. Tell me about your day,” he says as he unzips his jeans with his free hand. 

You light up at that. “I ended up texting that guy I told you about, Evan? We did the campus tour together and got drinks from this really cute coffee shop that’s right next to my dorm. You’d love it, Ani, they had so many flavors,” 

Anakin smiled at that, happy you had already made a friend and found a place to go to in between classes. “That’s awesome,” he said. “I wish I was there with you. Maybe we’ll go to London together one day and you can show me the shop.”

“Yes,” came your immediate response. “Absolutely, let’s do that.” 

He shook his head as he rids himself of his jeans. You’re cute,”

“I know,” you beam. “How was the show? I’m so sad I missed it.”

Anakin kicked his clothing into a pile in the corner of the small room. “It was good. Liz said she got some good shots of us that she’ll send later. You wanna see them too?”

“Always,” you scoff then smile. “How is everyone? How’s Theo?”

“Everyone’s doing well,” he answered. “Theo is…honestly doing a really bad job at hiding how nervous he is about his mom. Vin and I told him that we’re here if he needs anything, but he always just brushes us off. He’s distant whenever we’re not on stage together.” 

Your brows furrow a bit as you slouch back against your headboard. “His mom is sick, Ani…and he’s not with her. Yeah, his sister is, but he’s the oldest and has been with her the longest. I can’t imagine what he’s going through,” 

“Yeah, but I just wish he would talk to me, you know? I’ve known him since I was sixteen. It feels like he’s slipping away from us,” he vented as he propped his phone up on the sink and looked at himself in the mirror. 

“Maybe being on stage is his escape,” you offer. “He’s going through a lot right now, Ani. Give him time, he’ll come around.” 

Anakin tore his eyes away from the mirror and looked back at you. You were always so kind and rational and always thought about everyone else’s feelings before you spoke. You really are too sweet for your own good. “What would I do without you?” He honestly asked and you smiled at him.

“You’d probably be as miserable as I would be without you,” 

And he knew you were right.

-

“Hey, Anakin!” Liz greeted and pulled him into a hug, surprising him with the sudden display of affection. He stumbled back a bit, nearly bumping into one of the stage crew members as he did so.

“Hey,” he said back, returning the hug briefly before placing his hands on her hips and gently pushing her away from him. 

She kept her hands on his shoulders as she asked, “Did you get the photos from last night? I didn’t even need to edit these ones, they came out perfect,”

They really did look great. And you made sure to let him know just how good he looked in your message back to him when he forwarded the email to you before he went to bed last night. 

“Yeah, they look awesome,” he said as he stepped away from her. “Though I’m sure that has more to do with the camera and the person behind it.”

Liz rolled her eyes as she pulled out her phone. “When will you learn how to take a compliment?” Then she lifted her phone and pointed it right at him, and he had no time at all to realize what she was doing before he heard the sound of a picture being taken. She clicked on the image and showed it to him, “See? You can’t take a bad photo, even when you don’t realize one is being taken.”

Anakin laughed and shook his head a bit. “Okay, point taken, you can delete that now,”

But she just turned off her phone and pocketed it without deleting the photo. “We should do something together soon,” she suggested and he was about to gently turn her down when she added, “You, me, Vinny and Theo. I want to get to know my clients. Maybe we’ll work together more in the future, you know, after the tour.”

That wouldn’t be a bad idea, right? It might be nice to have a friendship with someone who knows how to work a camera, and Liz really did. Her work was amazing and she never failed to make Anakin feel as desired as he supposedly was by millions of people. 

“Yeah, for sure,” he agreed, then thought about another way she could take photos for him. “Maybe Y/n and I will hire you for our wedding.” It was a joke, the photographer part, definitely not the wedding part. He knew he will be marrying you someday, and he honestly couldn’t fucking for the day you become his wife, but there is also lots of time for that later, when you are both ready. 

The joke definitely went over her head. “Oh, you two are engaged?” 

He fucking wished. 

“No, we’re not,” he said, somewhat disappointedly. Just because you were waiting to get married doesn’t mean you were waiting to be engaged. Anakin also knew that he wouldn’t be able to hold off on asking you that question for much longer. “Not yet, anyway.”

She gave him a smile that looked a little forced. “You two are serious then, huh?”

He furrowed his brows as he leaned against the speaker backstage. This was always your spot, and he was missing you a little extra right now. God, he had no idea how he was supposed to make it another two weeks without you, then two months without you after that. 

“Yeah,” he trailed off. He thought she would’ve known by now how serious you and he are. Sure, you were basically kids when you met, but he knew from that first day that you were the only girl for him, and that fact was still true to this day. “Four years in, you get to be pretty serious.”

She nodded and moved closer to him, her natural flirty personality coming out in full swing as she smirked up at him. “That’s too bad,” she hummed, running a red painted nail up his sleeve of tattoos. “I’d say I’m happy for you, but then I’d be lying. You seem like a great guy, Anakin. It’s too bad you were taken off the market when you were so young.” 

He had no idea how to respond to that. She was definitely flirting with him, but he didn’t see the harm in it as long as he didn’t flirt back, and he had no intention in doing that anyway. Physically he was here, but his heart and mind were back in London with you. 

You were probably pacing around your dorm room right, nervous and scared about starting the program tomorrow. He hadn’t spoken to you since last night, where he ranted about how much he missed you, then listened to the way you talked dirty to him until he had no choice but to get himself off while he was still on FaceTime with you.

You told him that you would’ve helped him clean up the mess he made if you were there with him, and he had to wrap the call up pretty quickly after that as he could feel himself getting hard again and didn’t want the guys to get annoyed with him for being in the bathroom for too long. 

While his hand didn’t feel even close to how you did, he’d definitely be calling you again after tonight’s show. 

“Thanks, Liz, but I was a massive band geek back then and Y/n was this perfect, straight A student who I had no business asking out, let alone talking to,” he reminisced back to his high school days with you. 

“But you did,” she sounded almost bored, but he wasn’t really paying much attention to her tone at this point. He never focused on much else when the topic of the conversation was you. 

“Yeah, I did,” he confirmed, looking down at her with a dumb, love-struck grin. “Best decision of my life.”

She rolled her eyes and stepped away from him. “See, that’s what I’m talking about. I was convinced there were no more good guys left in the world, and now here you are, so in love with your high school sweetheart it’s almost disgusting,” 

He laughed and crossed his arms. “You’re not the first person to call me and my relationship that,” 

Liz sighed as she gazed up at him. “I can only hope that I find a guy as nice as you soon,” she mumbled. “I mean, I’m twenty seven, I should be married by now. I’m so far behind.”

Anakin felt bad for her, and he supposed that was what she was trying to do after bringing up the topic of relationships. “You’ll find someone,” he assured her. “And you’re not behind. You’re a successful photographer, you’re nice, you’re pretty…anyone would be lucky to have you.”

She looked up at him with slightly darker eyes and he stood up a bit straighter, afraid he went too far with that one. “You think I’m pretty?”

He definitely went too far with that one, but he also didn’t want to ruin her newfound confidence. “Yeah,” he answered with a nod, wanting to either escape this conversation or change the subject entirely. “I’m sure I’m not the first person to tell you that.”

Liz shook her head and bit down on her lip. “No, but you’re the first person I believe,” 

She reached out to him and only got to trace the newer ink on his wrist before he was pulling away. “Really?” He laughed and backed away. “I’m sorry to hear that. Anyway, I should help set up for tonight. Apparently all the tickets were sold for this venue, so it’ll be packed. You think you can keep up with everyone?”

Liz smirked as she nodded, “I think I can manage,”

[justastrugglinghotchocolate]

Ya’ll I used to jokingly consider this, but nah, there is enough evidence in the book to suggest:

Henry ruins Dorian out of spite and jealousy towards Basil for moving on from him.

Let’s get right into this. 

I went back into the book because I wanted to review the post I made about Henry and misogyny earlier. Besides the usual annoyance at Henry’s dumb stupid rant, I noticed this line:

“I had buried my romance in a bed of asphodel.”

And then it hit me that Henry’s worst rants about women only come after the topic of marriage, but more specifically, commitment. Which then led to an even more interesting idea: I’m pretty sure Henry mostly uses ‘women’ as cover to complain about Basil and Basil’s ‘lack of commitment to him.’

I want to note that there’s a lot of interesting things in regards to Henry and his relationship with women that I’d love to go into, but this will focus solely on him and Basil.

Here’s what Henry says in his misogynistic ass rant after Sibyl dies. (This is from the 1891 ver):

“But [Sibyl] would have soon found out that you were absolutely indifferent to her. And when a woman finds that out about her husband, she either becomes dreadfully  dowdy, or wears very smart bonnets that some other woman’s husband has to pay for.”

Basil is often considered ‘unfashionable’/‘dowdy’ by Henry’s standards. This is only further proven in what he says about Basil’s disappearance:

“Why should he have been murdered? He was not clever enough to have enemies. Of course, he had a wonderful genius for painting. But a man can paint like Velasquez and yet be as dull as possible. Basil was really rather dull. He only interested me once, and that was when he told me, years ago, that he had a wild adoration for you and that you were the dominant motive of his art.”

But that isn’t all. The last part of that quote matches one to one to Henry’s claim about women (or Sibyl, specifically). Basil was not only ‘dull’, but his only ‘fashionable’ attribute, his art, grew ‘dowdy’ once he discovered Dorian’s indifference to him.

Henry also says this about women:

“Good resolutions are useless attempts to interfere with scientific laws. Their origin is pure vanity. Their result is absolutely nil.”

And later:

“But women never know when the curtain has fallen. They always want a sixth act, and as soon as the interest of the play is entirely over, they propose to continue it. If they were allowed their own way, every comedy would have a tragic ending, and every tragedy would culminate in a farce. They are charmingly artificial, but they have no sense of art.”

Guess who makes resolutions regarding goodness? Basil, who refuses to believe that Dorian is nothing but a good, pure man. 

“[Basil] could not bear the idea of reproaching [Dorian] any more. After all, his indifference was probably merely a mood that would pass away. There was so much in him that was good, so much in him that was noble.”

Basil’s arc traditionally should have ended once Dorian rejects him. Between that chapter and the chapter where Basil dies, there is no mention of Basil in any form. By all means, Basil’s role in the story is over—and then he demands the ‘sixth act’ to confront Dorian.

And finally:

“Besides, nothing makes one so vain as being told that one is a sinner. Conscience makes egotists of us all. Yes; there is really no end to the consolations that women find in modern life. Indeed, I have not mentioned the most important one.”

“What is that, Harry?” said the lad listlessly.

“Oh, the obvious consolation. Taking some one else’s admirer when one loses one’s own.”

Now before I point out the obvious irony of Henry literally 'taking someone else's admirer' (henry actually has a lot in common with his 'criticisms' of women), I want to bring your attention to a key part we don’t discuss enough about in the book.

““Life has always poppies in her hands. Of course, now and then things linger. I once wore nothing but violets all through one season, as a form of artistic mourning for a romance that would not die. Ultimately, however, it did die. I forget what killed it. I think it was her proposing to sacrifice the whole world for me. That is always a dreadful moment. It fills one with the terror of eternity. Well—would you believe it?—a week ago, at Lady Hampshire’s, I found myself seated at dinner next the lady in question, and she insisted on going over the whole thing again, and digging up the past, and raking up the future. I had buried my romance in a bed of asphodel.”

So I’m gonna make an educated guess and say Henry is lying his ass off here. He did not have a ‘romance’ with a woman. He certainly did not get an emotional, romantic attachment with a ‘woman’. I feel comfortable saying this because 1) his general distaste for women literally points to this being bullshit and 2) a significant change that was made from the 1890 version of the book to the 1891 version.

This is the quote in 1890:

“I once wore nothing but violets all through one season, as mourning for a romance that would not die.”

This is 1891:

“I once wore nothing but violets all through one season, as a form of artistic mourning for a romance that would not die.”

Well, well, well, who is the arti—It’s Basil. He’s literally talking about Basil here. AND GUESS WHAT VIOLETS MEAN IN VICTORIAN FLOWER LANGUAGE?

A couple of things actually, but the top three are:

‘Faithfulness, Modesty, and Love.’

Henry emotionally had been faithful to Basil. While I doubt he was monogamous in anyway, Basil held a special place that no else would ever have. Not even Dorian.

And this brings me back to the quote that originally sent me down this rabbit hole:

“I had buried my romance in a bed of asphodel.”

In the 1890 version, it says:

“I had buried my romance in a bed of poppies.”

Poppies are known to mean death and would have fit perfectly if Henry was saying he felt nothing for the relationship, but what does asphodel mean?

‘Love Beyond The Grave’, ‘Remembered Beyond The Tomb’ and sometimes, ‘My regrets follow you to the grave’. 

(NOTE: please keep in mind floriography could mean certain things based on the color and the type of flowers. That being said, considering Wilde described the shit out of every setting he wrote, the lack of detail about the flowers suggest the most broad meaning is meant to be taken.)

Henry isn't over Basil. He couldn't kill the love, so he buried it and took Dorian as a consolation and revenge. He will never be able to get over Basil until Basil or himself dies.

BOY DO I HAVE GOOD NEWS FOR HENRY/s

[bihanarms]

The Artist's Secrets : DaltonxReader

warning spoilers ahead.

pov: You and Dalton are in the same art class at the university, and you notice that he has been behaving strangely lately.

Dalton and [Name] were two classmates at the university, sharing a common interest in visual arts. They regularly attended art classes together with their demanding and passionate professor, Ms. Armagan. It was during these moments of creativity that they discovered each other, exchanging ideas, supporting and inspiring one another.

But one day, as they immersed themselves in their painting project during class, Dalton suddenly found his hand covered in blood. The pain was evident on his face, but he remained mysteriously silent. [Name], alerted by the situation, felt a wave of concern rising within her. She knew Dalton as an introspective and reserved person, but something seemed different this time. He appeared lost, adrift in a world she couldn't comprehend.

Approaching him discreetly, she gently placed her hand on his shoulder. "Dalton, are you okay?" she murmured, her gaze filled with genuine concern.

Dalton averted his gaze, seeming hesitant to respond. Finally, in a calm but slightly trembling voice, he said, "It's nothing, just an accident."

However, [Name] could sense that there was more to it, something deeper troubling him. She knew it couldn't be just a mere accident.

"Dalton..." she replied softly, insisting that he share what was troubling him. "What's really going on? You can tell me. You know I can read you like a book."

"Just that..." he began, but was interrupted by their professor. "End of class. See you all tomorrow at the same time!" she announced, signaling for everyone to leave the room.

"Sorry, I have to go. See you tomorrow," said the troubled young man before hastily gathering his belongings and exiting the room.

[Name] let out a long sigh before gathering her own things and leaving the class.

_____________________________________

The next day, at the same time, as the visual arts class was coming to an end, Professor Armagan had left the room, leaving Dalton and [Name] alone. The room was calm and peaceful, bathed in the gentle light of the setting sun streaming through the large windows.

[Name] turned her mischievous gaze towards Dalton and remarked, "Well, Dalton, I didn't expect to see you at the frathouse party yesterday..."

Dalton, surprised, let out a genuine laugh. "Well, it was more of a friend who dragged me there... to make fun of them, you know. Anyway, if you saw me there, it means you were there too. So, any defense for yourself?"

[Name] shook her head, a playful smile on her lips. "No, no, I'm not the kind of person who enjoys those kinds of parties. I was only there to pick up my brother. Believe me, I usually hate them. I'm relieved you didn't go there just to have fun with those people... so, how was it, then?"

Dalton seemed confused when [Name] asked about the fraternity party. His face briefly froze, revealing a hint of worry that she noticed immediately. Intrigued, she sought to learn more, wanting to understand what troubled him.

"Are you sure you're okay lately?" she asked in a gentle voice, her eyes scanning his for answers.

He averted his gaze, seeming hesitant to share the truth. "It's... it's complicated, [Name]. I'd really prefer not to talk about it."

The enigmatic tone of his response only heightened [Name]'s suspicions. She remembered the moment she had seen him with his hand covered in blood the day before. Perhaps there was a connection to what troubled him now.

"Dalton, I can't help but notice how distant you've been lately... Does it have something to do with what happened yesterday? I mean, I was genuinely concerned to see you like that, well, I mean, you've always been a weird guy, but not to this extent normally, so I'm a bit worried," she finished with a semi-smile.

Dalton felt a mix of surprise and concern reflected in [Name]'s expression. She had made a lighthearted remark earlier, but now she realized that something much more serious was troubling him. She approached him gently, placing her hand on his, seeking to reassure him.

"Dalton, I won't think you're crazy, believe me. I'm here for you, no matter what you have to say. You can trust me, and even though we haven't known each other for long, I have this strong feeling that you need support right now," she said in a comforting voice.

Dalton felt overwhelmed by a mixture of emotions as he watched [Name] provide such comforting support. A glimmer of relief began to spread within him, giving him the strength to continue.

"For some time now, I've been seeing... things," he began, his voice filled with uncertainty. "I know it may sound crazy, but I can't ignore it. Visions, apparitions... I'm not exactly sure what it is, but it frightens me."

[Name] held his hand in hers, offering silent support as she listened attentively. She understood that he was going through a period of confusion and uncertainty, and she was determined to help him understand what was happening.

"Dalton, please, I told you, I won't think you're crazy," she said gently. "There's always an explanation, even if it seems strange or hard to understand. Tell me more."

Dalton felt a surge of gratitude enveloping him as he listened to [Name]'s comforting words. He felt that he could trust her, even though they had only known each other for a short time. There was something reassuring and familiar about her presence.

"There's something else I need to tell you," Dalton continued, his voice filled with emotion. "I don't remember the year I turned ten. My parents claim I was in a coma, but... I no longer believe them. I have this feeling that there's more to the story."

[Name] tightened her grip on Dalton's hand, encouraging him to continue.

"I can see things that others can't," Dalton confessed, his voice slightly trembling. "I can travel to another world... a world where I can see the dead, I think. But I'm not completely sure about all of this."

As Dalton shared his most intimate thoughts, he felt the support and reassuring presence of [Name]. Her comforting gestures, like the gentle rubbing of his hand, eased the fears that plagued him.

"Listen, if you need me to accompany you, I can be there, okay? You seem like a genuinely good person, and on top of that, you're one of the few people I've really connected with since starting college," [Name] said with determination. "We'll search for answers, we'll understand what's happening. You're not alone, okay?"

The words from [Name] resonated deeply within Dalton. In this moment of shared vulnerability, he felt heard, understood, and supported.

"Thank you, but you don't have to," he replied.

"Hey, listen, I'll be there, okay? I'll give you my phone number, my room is not far from yours, and if there's anything, don't hesitate to send me a message or call. Let's say I'm a night owl! 

[thoughtsandbones]

A cranium full of tea and coffee

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!Cafe Reader

Synopsis: Ghost takes a trip to a cafe out of town and meets a curious young lady and bond over books.

Warnings: Fluff basically, slightly OOC Ghost.

Song inspo: Baba O' Riley - The Who, Asleep - The Smith, With You - AP Dhillon, Wise Enough - Lamb and Excuses - AP Dhillon

A/N: (Discovered AP Dhillon a few weeks ago, because I have a bad habit of listening to songs/bands I already know...) SUPPORT YOUR LOCAL COFFEE SHOPS!!

(Reader is wearing glasses cos who doesn't love glasses...? Also I assume my reader is South Asian because there is a lack of South Asian representation for COD fanfics sorry not sorry)

MASTERLIST

It was quiet rainy Thursday afternoon in the the small town centre of Maidsfield. Ghost had the next seven days off and he was already bored out of his mind in his flat in London that he decided to take a train to a nearby town centre, Maidsfield, on the outskirts of London.

As he sat on the train he pulled out a book from his rucksack, flicking through the pages. His firm fingers ran over the bumps of the illustration on his new hardback copy of Stephen King's Salem's Lot.

Ghost hated the hustle and bustle of London cafes. All full of business folk, rushing in and out, talking too loudly on their mobiles, hosting noisy meetings next to him.

Office folk should stick to the office he remarked to himself the one and only time he went to a chain cafe in central London when a bunch suits sat next to him cackling over their espressos. When he looked up from his book he caught one the suits staring at him, giving him an odd look. Of course Ghost was wearing his signature skull balaclava, which often meant every day folks staring at him with odd looks.

Ghost returned the book in his backpack and sighed heavily, hitting his head back on the headrest of his seat. The carriage he sat in was virtually empty. He looked behind him as the train pulled to a stop and the other passenger got off. Ghost took this opportunity to go the toilet and switch from his regular skull balaclava to a black face mask the covered his nose and mouth, leaving the top of his head bare.

Before placing the mask on, Simon quickly brushed out his messy light brown hair so it was somewhat neat. He didn't wear any black paint today, partially because he forget his standard paint at base and also thought he'd give his skin a break today. Giving a final glance at himself in the small mirror he sighed again and raised his eyebrow at his reflection.

Simon left the toilet, and swung his backpack over his right shoulder, and stood by the doors as the train reached his stop. When the doors opened, he stepped out and pulled up his hoodie to combat the rain.

Walking out the station, Simon stood momentarily to the side. He realised he had to no idea where he was going in this new town. This was quite unusual for Simon, always a man prepared for anything and everything, especially on the battlefield. But this was not the battlefield. For the next seven days he had to acclimatise to civilian life.

Coffee shop sprung into his mind at last, and he walked down the road past various hurrying from shop to shop, trying to shield themselves from the onslaught of rain that came battering down.

Simon didn't mind the rain, he was strangely comforting to him, but as it became heavier he soon realised he had to find refuge in a warm cafe.

A chain coffee shop was just on his right, Simon glanced into the shop and saw that it was very busy, partially full of suits.

Fuck chain coffee shops he thought and walked on down further into the town. Simon was determined to find a small cafe that was not too busy.

Turning right down a small alleyway, Simon walked down the cobblestones pathway and noticed a coffee shop that drew him in instantly, Cerebrum Coffee Potions, which had a logo underneath of a white skull with a snake wrapped around the base.

Simon walked in and saw that it was virtually empty

"Afternoon!" Said the lady behind the counter who working behind the coffee machine

"Afternoo'" Simon said, shaking off the rain that drenched his jacket.

He noticed on the side a winding staircase that led upstairs. He took in the cafe, the various gothic art in black frames and antique tables and chairs adorned the bottom floor.

"Bit wet outside?" The lady said laughing slightly at Simon's drenched jacket and hood that covered his damp hair.

"Just a bit" Simon said, forcing a chuckle moving over to the till, gazing at the menu behind.

"What can I get you?" the lady said wiping her hands on her apron.

"Tea, Earl Grey please" He said and the lady typed away on the tablet. Simon gazed again at the winding staircase.

"There's space upstairs if you'd life" The lady said, noticing Simon's wondering eyes.

"Cheers" He said, returning to look at the total amount on the card machine.

"That's £2.30 please" She said, Simon pulled out his card and tapped it against the machine.

"Wonderful, I'll bring it up to" She said

"Thanks" Simon said, and made his way up the staircase, the walls were also decorated with more artwork of various skulls, both human and animal, woven with flowers or snakes.

As Simon reached the first floor, he noticed a younger woman, wearing a black hoodie, blue jeans with bright pink boots, sitting in the corner typing away on her laptop. Tortoise shell glasses framed your face that moved as your scrunched your nose. You looked up at Simon, who moved to the table in the opposite corner.

You smiled briefly as you locked eyes with him, Simon nodded back as he took a seat. Returning to typing, Simon pulled out his book and placed it on the table as he took his wet jacket off and placed it on the chair next time.

His eyes wondered at the antique coffee machine opposite him, serving as a condiment table. So far, he felt comfortable and relaxed compared to the chain coffee shops that had previously been in.

The barista came up the stairs holding a tray and placed it on the table where Simon sat.

"Anything else I can get you?" She asked him

"No, all good thanks" Simon said, moving the tray close to him and taking the black teapot, white teacup and saucer off and setting it to the side.

The barista smiled and walked over to the other lady in the corner.

"R/n, how's the report going?" She asked

You looked up with a disappointed look, pouting your full lips at the barista.

"Awful Jane" You sighed "Only so many times I can say experiment didn't work out well due to lack of time" You continued

"Awh, well I'm sure your supervisor will understand" Jane replied giving a smile.

"Hmm, hope so" You said smiling before returning to her laptop.

Simon watched as the barista walked back down the winding stairs, before pouring his tea in the cup, where he noticed there was also a skull embossed in black on the side.

I like this place so far Simon thought to himself as he poured the tea into his cup, placing one sugar cube, taking the vintage spoon stirring the hot dark amber liquid before adding a dash of milk.

He gazed at the lady in the corner again, who was making funny faces at her laptop as she typed with fervor, leaning closer and closer to her screen.

After he was sure that she wouldn't look, Simon took off his mask and took a sip of his tea. The taste of bergamont slid over his tongue, mixed with the sweetness of sugar. The warmth soothed his cold shoulders as he took another sip.

"Ahhh" Simon moaned aloud, he looked up briefly to see if you had noticed, yet you were still typing away, one eyebrow raised and only inches away from the screen of your laptop. Stopping momentarily, you rest your head on your left hand, with your pinky finger you slide your glasses up your nose bridge.

A part of him wanted to say 'Any closer and you'd be in your laptop' but he held his tongue. He opened his book and began re-reading the first chapter of his new hardback.

You sighed heavily and withdrew from your laptop, you leant so far back that your head hit the white brick wall behind you. Your skull bounced softly. Confusion struck you. You hit your head again on the white brick wall, and your skull bounced again.

Simon looked up curiously as you repeated the move, eyes bewildered as you knocked your head again.

Why is the wall so soft? You thought, whacking your head a bit harder this time, and then repeated the motion a few more times, staring blankly at the red walls in front of you. Withdrawing your hands from the keyboard of the laptop you touch the brick wall, as you pressed against it, felt it was soft slightly.

Of course it's a fake brick wall... You conclude, bouncing your skull again. You look over at the man in the corner, who was staring at you with his bright blue eyes in confusion. Your eyes widened as you realised you were not alone... The man in the corner had locked his eyes on you, you noticed his

"Ah sorry" You laugh nervously "It's a fake brick wall" you add smiling at him and touching and pointing to the wall behind you.

Simon was taken aback by that smile, that showed dimples in your cheeks.

"S'alrigh'" He said before returning to his book, smiling under his mask. Returning his focus back to the book, but his eyes flickered back to you.

Picking up the cup, Simon took another sip, taking pleasure in the sweet hot tea, he turned the pages of his book, fingers tracing the edges of the next page as he read on.

You got up from your table and went downstairs, grabbing another coffee from Jane. As you made you way up the stairs, you noticed that the man was reading a Stephen King book from the bold font on the spine.

"Stephen King fan huh?" You blurt as you caught eyes with the man again.

Simon cleared his throat "Yeah" he said closing the book, showing the cover.

"Salem's Lot!" You say grinning at him "I like Carrie, got a signed copy when he came into town last year at Page Stoner"

Simon leaned back in his chair, wonder captivated him.

Finally, someone who also likes Stephen King he thought, reminiscing the time he tried to get Johnny to read this book, but refused stating he hated anything to do with horror.

"Carrie is a good one" he said moving his hand from the table and resting it on the edge of the empty wooden chair next to him.

"Did you go to Page Stoner to see him?" You asked, taking a sip of coffee, still standing near his table.

Simon was confused, Page Stoner?

"Ergh no, I'm not from here" He said

"Ahhh" You sigh, "Where do you hail from then?"

"London" Simon said, not telling the whole truth "Wanna sit down?" He added motioning to the chair opposite him.

"Sure" You said smiling, setting down your coffee on his table "Let me just pack my things" You said, realising that you left your stuff unattended.

Simon watch you sit in the chair opposite, taking another sip of coffee.

"What's your name?" You ask

"Simon" He replied

"Nice, I'm R/n" you say, smiling again brightly

"Nice to meet you R/n" Simon said, admiring the dimples in your cheeks.

"So what do you do for a living?" You ask

Simon looked down at his half empty cup. He knew this was dangerous territory and didn't want to give too much away.

"Army" He said, blue eyes meeting yours.

"Ahh, Royal Marine?" You guess, judging by his muscular and tall build.

"Can't say" He murmured, taking his mask off, so he could take another sip of his tea.

"Oh sorry, I didn't mean to pry" You said, looking down at your cup of coffee, briefly looking at his face, you saw a glimpse of several scars over his lower jaw and over his nose.

"It's okay" Simon replied "How about you?" He asked placing his mask back on.

"Student, studying a masters in chemistry at UCL" you say "But I live here, commute to university"

"Nice" Simon said, looking down at his cup, observing you as you took another sip.

"How's your tea?" You ask

"Best Early grey I've had" Simon chuckled, tapping the edge of his cup with his right hand.

"This coffee shop is great. Better than those shitty chain stores"

"Indeed" Simon agreed with you.

"You like any other Stephen King books?" He asked, clearing his throat again.

"Yeah, I love IT and The Shining" You say, remembering you had a copy of The Shining in your bag, pulling it out to show Simon.

Simon took ahold of the book, flicking through the worn pages, clearly read many times.

"Didn't get this signed then?" He said, opening the first page of the book.

"Nah, was only allowed to get one copy signed..." You said remembering the look on Stephen King's face when you brought five of his books with you to the signing.

"Did you try and get more than one book signed?" Simon asked, grinning under his mask.

"Yeah..." You said, guilt flooded your face, cheeks turning slightly pink.

The rain outside pounded against the window where they sat, you look out, eyes trailing the raindrops running down the glass. Thunder bellowed outside. Perfect weather to be inside.

"Good thing you settled with Carrie" He said, setting his eyes again on you.

"Hmm" You smile in agreement

"I haven't read The Shining..." Simon started, staring back down at your copy, running his forefinger against the creases of the worn spine.

A grin appeared on your face as your eyes met. Simon saw your deep doe eyes glisten slightly.

Was this guy flirting..? You ponder,

"I haven't read Salem's Lot.." You replied, grinning mischievously.

"Want to do a swap?" Simon suggested

What are you doin'? A little voice spoke up in his head

"I'd love to" You say beaming at him.

Simon took in your big smile, that it made your dimples even deeper which caused a warmth to spread across his chest.

"Any chance you have a pen?" He said without thinking

Don't do it the little voice whispered again in his head

"Sure" You say, reaching for you rucksack, and taking out a pen from the outside pocket and handing it to Simon.

Simon grabbed a clean napkin from the tray and wrote his number down, his fingers went numb slightly as he hurriedly finished the last four digits.

"If you're in London the next few days, we should meet up" He said, handing the napkin over to you.

Taking the napkin, you fingers graze his for a moment, Simon ran his fingers against yours, a sharp zing simmered from his fingertips, up his arm to his chest, he quickly retracted his hand before temptation grew to hold your hand in its entirety.

The stairs creaked as Jane the barista came up, stopping just at the top.

"Sorry, guys, I'm about to close" She said

"Ah shit, it's 4:30 already?" You say bewildered checking your watch.

"Yep, times flies eh!" Jane said as she made her way back down.

Both you and Simon began to pack your belongings, Simon handed Salem's Lot over to you, and he placed your copy of The Shining in his bag and slung it over his shoulder.

"You heading home now?" You ask

"Yeah, train station actually." He replied

You nod at him and then peer out the window, it was still raining. You notice his jacket was slightly damp still. Your heart fluttered a bit, as you thought about offering to walk with him... He seemed so enticing and it was actually great to meet another avid reader of Stephen King.

Pulling out an umbrella from your backpack you hold out to Simon

"Think you might need this" laughing slightly as you motion to his damp jacket with the umbrella

Simon chuckled and moved closer to you, peering down at your slim frame and then looked out at the ever persistent rain outside.

"Think we both need it" He said raising his left eyebrow and then motioned with his head.

"Guess we'll have to share it then" You say smiling

"I'd like that" Simon said, gesturing you to go first down the stairs.

Once outside, you opened the umbrella, Simon took ahold of it, placing his hand briefly on your back as you both walked away from the coffee shop. You were quite surprised at how tall he actually was when you stood beside him. Together you walked down the wet cobblestones towards the train station.

Simon looked down at you and smiled under his mask. Today, he was grateful that he hated chain coffee shops, because it meant he met someone sweet like you.

[kil-g]

lilium candidum

a/n: this is the longest thing ive written in so long but i am very happy w it teehee

summary: It was, as far as he knew, your first time here in Manchester and you were visiting a cemetery for people you’ve never met. You would walk in by yourself and leave the flowers at a grave knowing full well that one of the people supposedly buried aren't actually dead.

Few questions asked. Flowers for strangers. And a companion who was a better gravestone than a partner.

gn!reader; civilian!reader

word count: 2.8k

warnings: mention of death (familial)

Simon came home with very little decorum to the occasion. Somewhere along the line, the two of you supposed that you preferred it that way. 

Last night, you turned the television to whatever was on at the moment and sat until you heard the sound of the door latches click open with the turn of his keys. You watched him step through the threshold and unceremoniously drop his bags onto the ground beside the couch. Then, he bent down from behind where you sat and placed a kiss against your temple before promptly disappearing into the rest of the house. 

For the next few hours, you would listen to the noises the house made now that he was home, like the shower running, the kettle for his tea, the opening of doors and quiet steps of his feet against the hardwood. The house was always so much quieter when he wasn’t around. 

Routine was important. He set a pattern and followed it, whether he knew it or not. And, each time it was like clockwork. By the time the house settled into his presence he’d be fast asleep in bed and the rest of his time at home would be as uneventful as he’d come. And, neither of you had any reservations against this. Allowing him to assimilate at the pace he took to do so was easiest for him. And, after about the third–fourth time, it didn’t take long for you to learn that he was just as independent at home as he presumably was during his work.

The next morning, though, was not the same.

The first morning was always slow and lazy. He would linger in the mattress until the sun was too high in the sky to ignore any longer. Even to the point after you’d long left it to attend to various tasks that needed your attention around the house. Happy to let him sleep even well into the afternoon.

This time he was not in bed. And, it seemed as though he had been out of the bed for a considerable amount of time, a few hours perhaps. Once you’d actually stepped out of bed, you quickly discovered the house to be spotless. The dishes were clean. The laundry, though unfolded, had been freshly washed and dried to completion. The floors were swept so as to not wake you with the vacuum and promptly mopped until they shone. 

The blankets that covered the couch were draped over it deliberately in over the back cushions and over the seats just in the manner you always intended to have them. 

The air was fresh with the slightest hint of lemons hanging somewhere. And the shelves of books and photos of your family, and trinkets, and plants were all dusted to near completion. 

The light coming through the windows was a soft shade of blue. The day was only just starting and as Simon stood in the kitchen, the mug of tea at his side and untouched, it dawned on you quickly that he must have not actually slept at all.

“Everything alright?” You ask, you’re hardly able to see him through all the shadows swallowing him up. The holes of his mask become inky black splotches where his eyes should be. He doesn’t answer and you lean against the arch of the doorway to the kitchen.

He contrasted heavily against the mute shade of jade green painted on the walls and the cherry wood cabinets. He looked so out of place, it was like he wandered in. 

When he doesn’t answer, you say, jokingly, “Was the house really that messy?” 

It was a somewhat pathetic attempt at opening up a conversation, and an even sadder excuse of a joke.

His eyes are stuck to the kitchen floor. Perfectly white tile.

Ever since the two of you picked the house, you’d mused several times about changing it for some other kind of tile. Something with a bit of color. The white was sterile and almost plain. “Simon.”

Sunlight pools in from the window just behind him. It casts a shadow over the ground, and his silhouette forms an inky black shape. “Come with me to Manchester.” He says. “I just need your help with something. Tomorrow.”

“Okay,” You reply. “What is this about, exactly? Is everything okay?”

“I’m fine.” He answers. 

You sigh, leaning against the fridge door, considering him in silence. His eyes don’t quite meet yours and it’s then that you decide that now wasn’t exactly the time to press him for more. You bite your cheek and turn to open the pantry for a mug. Then, approaching him, you reach around him for the kettle and pour yourself your own cup, ignoring the gnawing urge to ask him more questions. 

By tomorrow afternoon, you’ve packed a bag with a few sets of clothes and a number of other essentials. Simon gets in the car once you’ve settled into the passenger seat and nearly makes a point of avoiding all conversation through virtue of somehow being quieter than usual.

Driving the route to the airport, the trees along the road quickly become a blur of black and emerald green. You steal a glance over at your companion ever so slightly a few times as time passes. 

Soon, the quiet burns a tense sting against your jaw. The need to speak and ask questions is now unbearable.

Awkwardly, in your seat, you shift to orientate yourself to angle your body inwards of the car and you say, “What are we doing?”

“Nothing.” He says. “We’re going to Manchester.”

“Why are we going to Manchester?” You say. Then a few moments pass of complete silence, and it’s clear, then, that he’s utterly refusing to say anything more. “You can tell me if something’s wrong.”

“Nothing is wrong.” He says, this time firmer.

“There is something wrong. Anyone with a brain could see that.” You reply. He presses his lips together and fights the urge to look back at you. “I know you have just about a million things going through your head all the time. I give you your space. I don’t pry. I can live with the pieces I get of you. But, we’re going halfway across the world to your hometown, on a whim. I’d really like to be in the loop.”

He taps his thumb against the wheel. Then, he stops, inhales and pulls the car over to a stop. “Okay.” You watch him nod to himself before, again, he squeezes his eyes shut and exhales a heavy sigh. “I can’t go to the cemetery myself. It’ll be sixteen years tomorrow.”

You catch a glimpse of the way his hands grip tight around the wheel for a brief moment. His leg bounces nervously and you blink at him.

You liked to think that you knew a lot about Simon. His birthday, his hometown, the inklings of his family, and even less so, about his father. The way he took his tea, his preference for salty foods rather than sweets. Soap, John, Gaz, who you’d never met, but knew more than they probably would want you, a complete stranger, to know about.

And most all, you knew that Simon Riley was a dead man who, like a good son, went with the rest of his family. And stayed beside them as any good son should, in a grave somewhere on the outskirts of Manchester.

“Okay.” You answer and it’s all you can say.

He gathers himself, then sits up and leans back against the seat once he’s started the car once again.

When the two of you get to the airport, he gets out first and walks to the passenger seat door. He opens it and stops just in

From your seat, you look up at him, unable to decide if you were upset with him or not. He blinks down at you, and his eyes move away and back to yours.

“I’d do this on my own.” He says, hitching your bag over his shoulder. “--If I could.” His voice trailing over the words, hesitating. You thought that, maybe, you should wait. Perhaps, you should give him just a moment to think of any other words he wants to say before it's too late. Before, the both of you are on the plane. Before, the both of you are in a completely different place and the words are still hanging by a string from his esophagus, hanging between his ribs like a weight.

He doesn’t say anything else. So, instead, you swing your legs out from the car and step out, finding yourself just inches from in. You reach forward to his free hand and grasp at his wrist. Looking at him through the mask, you say, “Let’s go. We’ve got a flight to catch.”

—

The flight was uneventful. Mostly due to how packed in it was. There wasn’t much talking to be done when your companion’s nickname was “Ghost” and the company in the nearest proximity were complete strangers who didn’t know how to place anyone over six feet tall wearing a balaclava with a skull painted over it.

Once the plane actually touches down, the two of you make the necessary steps to get out with your bags. The two of you go to rent a car, and Simon takes the driver’s seat once again. Soon enough, you’re driving down the streets of Manchester without directions. Seemingly, he remembers where each and everything is. 

It’s not long before he’s stopped on a quiet street. The two of you get out, and he walks down the sidewalk with you before stopping in front of a florist.

“I don’t know shit about flowers.”

“I figured as much.” You joke. You hold out your hand and he puts a few bills into your palm. “Wait in the car, I’ll pick them out.”

Before he has half the mind to say thank you, you’ve already disappeared into the shop.

He digs his hands as deep as he can into his pockets and locks his eyes onto the ground through the walk back to the car.

Only about ten minutes pass before you’ve returned with a bouquet of blindingly white lilies in your arms. You open the door and slip back in.

You sit, adjust yourself and the bouquet in your lap. And once your seatbelt is fastened securely, you look up at Simon–whose eyes are already on you–and say, “Ready to go?”

Silently, he turns the car back on and begins to drive the route to the cemetery.

You weren’t sure if when he said ‘sixteen years’ he meant, he hadn’t been to the actual site, or if he really hadn’t returned to Manchester since then. Despite how easily he drove along the streets, you were willing to bet it was the latter.

Before you have a chance to think about how long has passed, you’re on the outskirts of the city pulling up slowly to the cemetery gates.

Turning off the engine, he stops and stares out through the windshield. You turn and look at him. A few moments of him feeling your eyes on him pass before he inhales.

“I’ve never actually visited the–” He starts, and hesitates just slightly. “The site, the grave. I mean.”

“You don’t really have to explain anything to me.” You reply. You lean into the cushioned back of the passenger seat. He looks at you, watching you studying the tree-line in the far off distance. And in the moment, he becomes itchy with a certain tingle to his nerves. 

Simon felt silly. He should do this himself, it was his family, his grave, after all. Buying the flowers wasn’t enough, he wanted to place them. 

But, when he looks out the window, the path leading into the cemetery is treacherously long. It’s so cold out and the idea of having to look at their names etched into the stone is nauseating him. 

Here you were in a foreign place where you knew no one else besides him. It was, as far as he knew, your first time here in Manchester and you were visiting a cemetery for people you’ve never met. You would walk in by yourself and leave the flowers at a grave knowing full well that one of the people supposedly buried aren't actually dead.

Few questions asked. Flowers for strangers. And a companion who was a better gravestone than a partner. Pitiful, shameful even, he thinks to himself.

He blinks at you even though you’re not looking at him. Your finger is brushing over the petals softly without thinking very much about it. 

Once the end of the tree-line is lost in sight, you sigh and lean your head back, tilting and arching it slightly to look towards him. 

“What are you thinking about?” You say. 

He watches your eyes study him and then the motion of you sitting up, forward, then reaching up to his shoulder to pick a piece of lint off and flicking it onto the floor. He doesn’t know the words that would explain it, but, as best as he can, he tries. “I’m not used to things like this being… easy.”

“What do you mean?”

“Not easy.” He says. “Simple. Simpler.” His eyes move away from yours.

His arm rests over the console and you brush your palm over his knuckle, slipping your fingers into his hand. Squeezing it firmly for just a brief moment, you watch him avoid your eyes and the smile stays as it is. “Last chance, Casper. Just the flowers? Or is there anything else you want me to leave there?”

“No.” Simon replies. “Just the flowers.”

Only just audibly, you whisper, “Okay.”

“I think…” He begins, “I think I’ll stay in the car.”

You lean forward and press your lips over his forehead against the fabric of his mask, then again on his cheek just below his right eye. “I’ll be right back.”

Then, just like that, you’re out of the car door shivering for a brief moment against the cold. Your form is a heavy contrast against the Manchester gloom. Simon watches you walk the whole way up the path to the gate, the lilies in your arms splotching against his vision in a soft white waterfall of petals pouring down from your side. 

You disappear into far off space soon enough, and suddenly, he is all alone with the smell of pine lingering in the air that wafted in when you opened the door. 

His heart leaps up into his throat after a few minutes and he tries one futile attempt to swallow it back down. It leaves a heavy pit in his stomach. His leg begins to bounce and he becomes almost feverishly warm despite the cold chill in the air. 

Simon grips the steering wheel tight and squeezes his eyes shut. It feels like hours pass even though, academically he knows, that it couldn’t be more than a couple of minutes. 

With his eyes shut, he can see the image of you walking up the path to the gate, lilies spilling from your arms. The warmth of your lips on his cheek, the squeeze of your hand in his palm.

Then, the passenger side door opens and you seat yourself back into the car. The clinging smell of flowers drifting around in the air mixing with the smell of pines. He opens his eyes and his grip on the steering wheel loosens and relaxes before he lets go and places his hands on his thighs.

“You okay over there?” You say. 

“Just give me a minute.” He answers.

You look away from him and avert your gaze out the windshield. 

Simon clears his throat and steadies his breathing. Tightly he squeezes his knees and rubs at them. Then, he sits back up and sniffs, looking straight ahead.

Tapping the armrest on the car door, you look at him for a moment.

Inhaling first, you say, “It’s not too late. I can walk with you over there.”

“No.” He says, firmly. 

“Okay.” You reply. It falls silent between the two of you once again. He leans his head back in his slow attempt to steady his breathing. You’re still watching him and the cold is clinging to the tips of your fingers. “The stones were clean. Legible, no moss or overgrowth or anything–whatever it is you call it. A little wear from the weather, but otherwise they looked nearly perfect.”

He nods silently, swallowing hard on the ball in his throat. His eyes still shut even though the light still sheds through the skin of his eyelids.

“We can always come back.” You say. “We can try again next year.”

He nods again, and exhales through his mouth. Without looking at you, he says. “We can try again next year.” Then, his fingers grasp at the keys in the ignition. He turns it until the engine comes on once again, but before he starts driving, still looking straight ahead, he says, “Thank you.”

You hum in response and look away from him. You sit back and he begins to drive once again. Once the car is turned away from the cemetery gates, you watch it disappear in the rearview mirror. 

[reyescarlos]

into you || a tarlos fic

summary: TK Strand has one objective: find the courage to speak to the cute boy he's been admiring from afar for the past year. Carlos Reyes has one objective: find inspiration to complete his art portfolio at any cost.

When a chance encounter with his crush goes horribly awry, TK concocts a plan to get back in his good graces. As time winds down toward the end of the semester, the two grow closer, discovering new parts of themselves and each other.

for @carsonnshaw my angel. sorry this is so late! i just really wanted to get it right because you deserve that and so much more, my love! i hope you’ll enjoy it! 💕💜

word count: 19.6k | rated e | read on ao3

Is this gonna happen? Been waiting and waiting for you to make a move Before I make a move

As TK stands in the gallery surrounded by art projects, one thought springs to mind: he’s completely out of his element. This isn’t how he’d typically spend a Friday night. Those are preferably spent hitting up a party on campus or otherwise occupying himself with some kind of mindless entertainment.

The upside to tonight is being able to spot glimpses of Carlos. TK has never once spoken to the guy before, but he’s certainly taken notice of him on campus from time to time. It’s privately part of the reason why TK agreed to come tonight in the first place. He doesn’t know much about the man aside from the fact that he’s an art major and keeps to himself.

TK has never seen him at any of the parties his frat or any other for that matter, have thrown on campus. To say they run in different circles would be an understatement, but TK has been hoping desperately for a chance to cross paths with him in an organic way. So many times he’d see Carlos around school grounds, head in a book or otherwise hanging out with his cluster of friends. Each time a part of him would want to march right over and introduce himself, strike up a conversation and see where it could lead.

It all started last year, perhaps embarrassingly so for TK to admit liking him for so long. All it had taken was spotting Carlos sitting alone on a bench in the quad, sketching into an art pad. There was something so captivating about how he was able to zero in to whatever he was working on in the middle of laughter and chatter around him.

Over the next few months, TK would see him unexpectedly, only learning his name after one of his friends shouted it.

TK isn’t typically shy when it comes to guys. It’s something he prides himself on, but with Carlos, it’s different. The guy is way out of his league, interested in things that TK doesn’t really understand.

TK spots him again now, talking to another student, adjusting his clear framed glasses. Carlos looks a bit nervous tonight and TK figures this event must have him on edge. He couldn’t imagine doing this himself, putting something he’s worked on up for public judgment.

Carlos continues on with his conversation, running a hand through his curls. The tuft of hair at the very top sticks up even higher now.

It’s impossible not to stare at him but TK forces himself to look away. This crush on Carlos is a fruitless one at best, but TK sees little sense in torturing himself by staring at something he’ll never be able to have.

TK sighs softly to himself and stands up straighter as Paul hands him a plastic cup with sparkling cider which he gladly accepts. He focuses on the walls, each one covered with multiple pieces of artwork from paintings to drawings with small placards with students’ names beside them.

“Which one’s Josie’s?” he asks.

Paul beams proudly and leads him over to the right side of the room. Josie’s mural is massive. TK isn’t sure what he’s supposed to feel, if anything, when looking at it, but the color combinations are gorgeous and in TK’s eyes, that’s enough to mark it as nice in his book. He says as much, earning a laugh from Paul.

They continue moving around the packed space, going from piece to piece. Paul, far more cultured on these things than he could ever hope to be, has something to say about each one. It’s yet another reason why TK is convinced Paul and Josie are perfect for each other and why he would never stand a chance with Carlos.

TK and Paul move on to the final painting. Paul goes on about the composition, but all TK sees is globs of color and brushstrokes on a canvas.

“I don’t really get it. What is that I’m supposed to be seeing here? Anyone could slap paint on a board and call it art, when you think about it, right? It’s all so subjective.”

“Just what every artist wants to hear,” a voice says on the other side of him.

TK startles at the sound, but shock quickly turns into dread as he turns his head and finds himself looking into Carlos’ eyes.

TK blinks twice and looks at the painting, his gaze drifting to the placard that very clearly spells out Carlos’ name.

Embarrassed, TK stammers.

“I wasn’t….I didn’t mean,” he says, not even sure what he could possibly say to remedy this.

Carlos holds up a hand to stop him and TK is grateful for him intervening because he’s fairly certain he’d keep sputtering nonsense until the end of time.

“I’m sorry,” he spits out.

Carlos scoffs and shakes his head. “It’s fine. I wouldn’t expect you to get it.”

The shift from apologetic to offended is so swift, it leaves TK feeling disoriented for a moment.

“And what is that supposed to mean?”

Carlos shrugs. “Exactly what I said.”

TK opens up his mouth to respond but Carlos turns away just as quickly as he appeared, leaving him without a chance to reply. TK’s mouth snaps shut, his jaw clenched as he watches Carlos’ retreating figure disappear into the crowd.

For all the times he’s imagined talking to Carlos for the first time, trading insults before a proper greeting hadn’t been on his list of possibilities.

“What the hell just happened?” TK asks, still frozen in place.

Paul stands shoulder to shoulder with him, folding his arms over his chest as he looks after Carlos as well.

“I think you just made an enemy.”

~*~*~

I don’t really get it.

The words of a stranger shouldn’t bother him this much, but given that Carlos has spent the last few weeks stressing out over his final portfolio, this feedback has confirmed his biggest fear: he’s truly lost his muse.

Carlos stares now at the empty canvas in front of him, willing inspiration to hit him. This isn’t something he can force, he knows that as sure as anything else. It does very little to stop him from trying anyway. The semester ends in just two months and Carlos is no closer to figuring out what he wants his portfolio to say than he had been at the start of it.

Carlos cracks his knuckles, a nervous tic he’s spent a lifetime trying to break out of but it can’t be helped. He can hear TK’s words playing on a loop in the back of his mind along with his own self-doubt signing off on the comment.

It’s been a full twenty four hours and Carlos still feels guilty for being so curt. He can admit, at least to himself, that he’s been severely preoccupied and sensitive over his work lately. The unexpected artistic block has hampered everything he’s attempted to make this month. He isn’t performing to his usual standard and it’s unnerving, to say the least.

It feels as if every time he blinks, he can see the look of confusion on TK’s face. In truth, Carlos knows it was a low blow to hurl such a snide comment at TK. They’d never spoken before but Carlos knew of him in the way he imagined just about everyone else did. He was a member of some fraternity, the Greek letters completely lost to Carlos who never put much stock in such things.

Carlos groans and throws his paintbrush down.

“I take it things aren’t going well in here then, huh?”

Carlos turns at the sound of Grace’s voice and feels his irritation at himself melt away as she comes into the room.

“Hey, Gracie,” he says, doing his best to put on a happier face.

But there’s no fooling her. Grace comes and drapes an arm around his shoulder.

“How long have you been in here driving yourself up a wall?”

Carlos smiles halfheartedly. “One disastrous hour.”

He pulls in a deep breath and lets it out loudly. Grace soothes him with a squeeze of his shoulder.

“Try switching mediums?” she suggests, quickly looking at him. “Did I say that right?”

Carlos laughs. “Yes, you did and I think you may in fact have a point. I haven’t done figure drawing in a while. It’d be nice to get back to that.”

Grace raises a brow, staring at him blankly.

“Drawing human form,” he supplies.

“Ah, I see. You’d need a model, right?”

“Are you, by chance, offering?”

Grace smiles apologetically. “I wish I could; it’d be an honor. But the writing center needs me. End of term always gets students through our doors. You could put up ads, though. I’m sure you’d get at least a few takers and you can go from there. You’re bound to find at least one good option.”

“I’ll take those odds. Thanks, Grace.”

“Don’t mention it,” she says, giving his shoulder another reassuring squeeze.

She looks at the empty canvas and frowns.

“I’m sorry you’re having a hard time lately. I know that must be frustrating.”

Carlos sighs. “Yeah, it’s bad enough that I got negative feedback last night.”

Grace’s arm falls away. She pulls up a nearby stool and sits beside him.

“What happened in the two seconds we weren’t together?”

Carlos cracks his knuckles again as he replays his exchange with TK for the hundredth time. Before last night, he’d only known the name and face in passing. Now it feels as if both are indelible in his thoughts.

“TK Strand happened. He said he didn’t really understand what he was looking at when he was standing in front of my piece.”

Grace frowns. “Sounds more like a personal problem on his end, if you ask me.”

For as much as Carlos wants to buy into that theory, there’s a nugget of doubt large enough to eclipse the small voice in his head telling him TK is right.

“But what if he has a point? I mean, it’s been weeks and nothing I make is translating well. He’s not even into art and he could tell I did a bad job. I’m going to blow my portfolio. I never should have signed on for the showcase.”

Grace puts a hand on his knee.

“You, take a breath now. You did not do a bad job. Not in the least bit. You’re being way too hard on yourself here, Carlos. You’re easily the most talented person that I know. You create magic each time you touch a blank page. Don’t let him or anyone–– yourself included––make you believe otherwise, you hear me?”

Carlos smiles at her before pulling her in for a hug.

“Yes, ma’am,” he muses. “But honestly, thank you.” He gives her a kiss on the cheek and pulls away.

“I did give him a piece of my mind though, just a little bit.”

“Is that so?” Grace says, folding her arms across her chest.

Carlos cringes a little as he nods.

“Not my proudest moment, I’ll admit. He apologized, but it still stung. Still does.”

“Turn it into fuel to get your work to where you want it to be. That’s the best thing you can do in a case like this. Focus your energy on the steps ahead of you, not the ones you’ve already passed.”

Carlos takes Grace’s advice to heart and two days later, he’s plastering flyers around campus, putting out a call for volunteers to model for him. His expectations are low as he’s sure most people would be reluctant to blindly sign up for a stranger to study and draw them. Still, it’s well worth the effort now to at least try. At this point, Carlos is so desperate for something to work that he’s willing to try anything.

He spends the better part of the afternoon walking around campus, hanging up a flyer on every notice board he happens across.

He ends his posting at the cafe on campus, heading to the board just a few feet away from the entrance. Carlos is fishing out his small box of pushpins when he hears a semi-familiar voice behind him.

“Hey, it’s you.”

It hits him suddenly who the voice belongs to.

Carlos does nothing to hide his disdain as he turns around and he doesn’t think he can be blamed for it. TK is quite honestly the last person he wants to see right now. TK bites back on his lower lip, rocking a bit where he stands. It’d be endearing if he weren’t still so bothered by what happened at the showcase.

“Look, I was hoping to run into you,” TK says. “I wanted to apologize for the other night. I was being a total dick. I didn’t mean to be, but either way, it wasn’t cool. I’m really sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Carlos replies curtly, setting his remaining few sheets of paper down on the table and grabbing the top one.

Carlos turns away from TK and pins the paper to the corkboard. In theory, this should be the end of the conversation but TK not only remains in place, he continues to talk.

“So, are we good?” TK asks.

Carlos looks back over at him. TK is far more persistent than he thinks is necessary but it’s almost as if it's a matter of absolute importance for him to make Carlos understand he’s serious about making amends.

“Does it even matter? Up until the showcase, we’ve never said a word to each other. I’m perfectly fine going back to that. I appreciate you apologizing or whatever, but we can just leave it at this. It’s fine.”

It really isn’t, but at this point, Carlos wants nothing more than to forget the other night. TK reappearing out of the blue just brings him right back to that godawful moment.

“Do you at least forgive me?”

Carlos sighs, his hands settling on his hips as he looks TK directly in the eyes. He wants to make this as perfectly clear as he can.

“No, I don’t. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I really have to get going. Goodbye, TK.”

Carlos picks up his things and leaves TK standing there to let the message sink in once and for all.

~*~*~

TK slams his bedroom door the second he’s inside. It feels as if the force is enough to rattle his teeth, but he’s far too angry to even care. He tosses his backpack down and begins to pace. The walk across campus to his frat hadn’t been enough to ease his frustration. His irritation only seems to have grown on the trip over.

TK’s door swings open and Paul stands at the threshold, eyebrows raised.

“Whoa, what is going on? You blew through here like a hurricane. What happened to you?”

TK clenches his jaw, nostrils flared as he continues to pace, not breaking his stride for even a moment.

“He was such a jerk. I apologized and he just flat out refused to accept it. I thought he was cool with everyone.”

“Wait, who are you even talking about? Carlos?”

TK nods and Paul rubs at his temple.

“You’re still on about that? It’s been days, man.”

TK scowls and looks away. He’s been fixated, he can admit, on the fact that he and Carlos have somehow ended up at odds with one another. The shift happened so quickly and each attempt now at setting things right continues to blow up in his face. It doesn’t sit well with him to know that Carlos is angry with him.

“Yeah, it has been and he’s still holding it against me. I said I was sorry then and I apologized again today. He’s still mad at me.”

“Well, most people don’t go around openly trashing his artwork, so there’s also that to factor in,” Paul deadpans.

This gets TK to stop in his tracks. He crosses his arms over his chest before quickly dropping them, certain he must look like an unruly toddler throwing a fit.

“I didn’t think he’d take it so seriously. I wasn’t even talking about him exactly.”

Paul leans against the door jamb.

“You like to be liked. I get that. But I think this one may be a lost cause. You were in the wrong but you owned up to it. There’s nothing else you can do about it.”

TK knows this, fundamentally. That still doesn’t mean he’s willing to accept it.

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that.”

TK pulls the flyer Carlos had posted in the cafe out of his back pocket and hands it over.

Paul eyes it warily but reads it nonetheless with a groan.

“This is your brilliant plan to get into his good graces? Do I need to report you to campus security? You’re one move away from being this guy’s stalker.”

TK grabs the paper back and looks it over for the umpteenth time.

“I’m not stalking him. I’m…willing to offer up my time to him. Worst case scenario, he rejects me. Again.”

Paul shakes his head. “You’re like a dog with a bone, I swear. Why does this matter so much to you?”

TK clenches his mouth shut and looks away. There’s no way he’s going to admit to having had a distant crush on Carlos for a year and managing to spectacularly ruin their first introduction to each other.

“I just don’t want him to have the wrong idea about me. I want to make this right.”

Paul runs a hand over his head and sighs.

“I get the feeling there’s more to it, but I’ll let it go and say good luck. Don’t drive yourself crazy over this, alright? Though,” he says, gesturing to the flyer in TK’s hands, “I think you might have already crossed that bridge.”

~*~*~

The modeling call can only be described as a total bust. The few people who have stopped by have been questionable at best and Carlos has to wonder if the universe has been screaming a warning to him these last few weeks that he’s just been too stubborn to listen to.

Carlos is ready to call it quits when the door to the art room opens. A guy with a lean build enters, his face turned away as he looks back at the door as it closes behind him.

For one shining moment, Carlos feels hopeful but the moment it seems to register who has just entered, the feeling vanishes. In its place now is irritation as TK Strand comes walking over to him, a determined look in his eyes.

“What is going on? Why are you here right now? How are you here right now?” Carlos asks.

TK holds up his hands; in one of his hands is a flyer. Carlos clenches jaw, his shoulders stiffening.

“Give me just one minute, alright? I know you and I got off on the wrong foot,” TK says quickly.

Carlos raises a brow.

“Okay, I messed up right out of the gate. I get that and I’m sorry. I don’t want you to hate me.”

That last sentence strikes Carlos most of all. In the grand scheme of things, he can’t imagine why his perspective on TK should carry any weight in his eyes. This is now the third time TK has offered to smooth things over after his comments at the student showcase.

“Everyone on campus basically worships you. I think you can survive one guy you don’t even know not being a fan.”

“I just want us to be okay because yeah, alright, you may never speak to me again, but I don’t want you having a bad impression of me. But you’ve obviously made your mind up already. I need you to know it wasn’t personal against your work. I felt that way about everyone’s stuff.”

TK searches his eyes pleadingly; it’s clear this is gnawing at him. To be fair, Carlos has far bigger issues to focus on than keeping this ridiculous fight or misunderstanding going.

“You’re sorry. I get it. Thank you for apologizing, okay? You don’t have to keep doing it. It’s fine, alright? I mean it. Seriously.”

TK doesn’t look so sure, but he nods and takes a breath.

“Cool.” He rocks in place for a moment, looking at the walls.

Something appears to catch his eye. Carlos watches him as he walks past and heads towards the far side of the room. He stops right in front of a piece Carlos did at the start of term.

“This is amazing,” he says quietly.

Carlos comes closer to stand beside him.

“Thanks.”

TK turns to look at him again.

“You did this?”

Carlos nods and looks at the piece. He’d give anything to repeat that level of work now.

“It feels like you. I should have known,” he says with a small laugh.

Carlos isn’t sure what to make of that comment. It’s the polar opposite of what TK had to say just the other day at the showcase. But Carlos knows the image in front of him came from a different place, outside of the fog he’s been dwelling in for weeks.

“Maybe you do know a thing or two about art after all.”

TK turns and smiles at him and the way his head is angled towards him, it makes Carlos’ fingers itch to sketch out his sharp jawline. He looks away then and back at his old piece.

“How’s the search been so far today?” TK asks unexpectedly.

Carlos lets out a resigned sigh, stuffing his hands in the front pockets of his jeans.

“Not well,” he admits.

TK bites back on his lower lip, his eyes flitting between Carlos and his art piece.

“What if I could help with that?”

Carlos shifts and crosses his arms over his chest, intrigued in spite of himself. His desperation must truly be at an all-time high for his interest to be piqued like this.

He drops his arms to his sides and stands up a bit straighter.

“I’m listening.”

~*~*~

TK pops his head through the door of the art room and finds Carlos setting up a large sketchpad on an easel.

It’d taken some convincing, but when they’d spoken two days ago and Carlos reluctantly lowered his guard, TK managed to make a case for himself and offered to sit in for Carlos. It was easy enough to do with Carlos confessing to him that he didn’t have any real takers. It was a win by default, but TK has never been picky with such things.

He takes a look at Carlos now, clad in a denim jacket and gray shirt, dark jeans fitting him snugly. There’s always such an effortlessness to him that TK finds far too appealing for his own good.

He clears his throat to announce himself. Carlos glances over in his direction and waves a bit awkwardly. TK can tell he’s still unsure about this.

“You can take a seat right up there,” Carlos says, gesturing to a quasi-stage. In the center is a high metal stool.

TK does as he’s told and sits on it.

“Shirt on or off? I’m definitely not above nudity, for the record. In case you wanted to fully commit,” TK says, wiggling his brows.

Carlos rolls his eyes, a gesture TK has learned to simply accept as second nature for Carlos at this point, as far as TK is concerned. Carlos gets up and takes off his jacket before walking over to him. TK can’t help but to admire Carlos’ arms.

He snaps his attention to his face instead as Carlos tucks a hand under his chin and angles his head slightly to the left. His touch effectively silences TK for the moment. Carlos tilts TK’s head a bit more, brows furrowing. TK isn’t sure what he’s aiming for exactly here but so long as Carlos keeps touching him, TK won’t complain.

He thinks he speaks too soon because Carlos lowers his hand and returns to his stool and easel.

“Keep it on. I’m just studying your face today.”

“Hope you enjoy the view,” TK says with a wink.

“This whole process works a lot better if you sit still and be quiet,” Carlos says, picking up his pencil. “It’s actually the only real requirement.”

TK snaps his fingers and slouches.

“Damn, I should have read the fine print on your flyer then. I must have missed that part.”

Carlos lets out an exasperated sigh and tosses the pencil in his hand to the easel’s tray. He peers over the side of his easel, his face the picture of annoyance and TK knows he’s gone too far with his teasing.

“If you aren’t going to take this seriously, why did you bother pushing for me to agree to this at all?”

TK shakes his head, annoyed too at constantly being admonished like a child by him. He holds up his hands in mock defense.

“Lighten up. It was just a joke.”

“I’ll laugh when it’s funny,” Carlos deadpans. He shakes his head. “You completely lost the position. The lighting isn’t right on your face now.”

He rises from his stool and paces for a moment, his shoulders tense.

“I think we should just call it.”

TK stands up too at this, ditching his own stool and getting down off the platform.

“Dude, are you serious right now? We didn’t even start. I’ll chill out. I didn’t realize it was that big of a deal to you.”

He should have, he knows. But Carlos seems so bent out of shape over this that TK just wants him to relax. It’s obvious though that Carlos is genuinely stressing out and for the life of him, TK can’t fully understand why.

Carlos stuffs his hands into the back pockets of his jeans and pulls in a deep breath. TK’s eyes drift to his chest as it puffs up, his shirt stretching even tighter across his chest, and back to his face quickly as Carlos speaks. Carlos’ gaze lowers and TK can see all the fight is out of him now.

“I’m sorry. It’s not even really you that’s the problem. I’m having a block,” he says, tapping his temple. “I have been for a few weeks now and it’s kind of messing with me. I probably wouldn’t have managed much today anyway so it’s fine.”

TK’s mouth twists to the side a bit. At least now he knows what’s at the core of Carlos’ persisting bad mood.

“Maybe you need to get out of your head a little bit? Do something different and get inspired that way?”

Carlos frowns.

“Maybe you’re right. I don’t know. I’ll try again tomorrow on my own. I’m sorry for wasting your time.”

Carlos still looks far too preoccupied for his taste. He can easily picture Carlos retreating to his place and giving this bad mood more room and time to grow.

“Do you want to hang out?” TK asks, crossing his arms over his chest. “We can do something to take your mind off it.”

Carlos eyes his warily like he doesn’t trust the offer. TK tries not to be offended by the skepticism.

“Hang out?” Carlos echoes.

TK rolls his eyes.

“Yes, hang out. It’s this chill thing people do from time to time in which they relax and spend time together. Crazy concept, but I think you might enjoy it,” TK teases.

Carlos tries to bite back a smile, but TK can see it nonetheless, the way his eyes soften with each passing second and his cheekbones rise.

“You’re really gunning for us to be friends here, aren’t you?”

TK unfurls his arms and puts a hand on Carlos’ shoulder, giving it a squeeze. It’s pure hard muscle yet somehow soft.

“I’ll win you over eventually. Just you wait. You’ll see I can be very charming.”

~*~*~

The problem, Carlos knows, is that there was never any actual doubt that TK could be charming. The issue is just how effortlessly he’s able to wiggle past Carlos’ defenses.

As they walk alongside each other on their way to the diner off campus, TK talks his ear off about the most random things and Carlos finds himself hanging on to every word of it. TK makes for good company and Carlos can’t deny the fact that he’s already feeling himself relaxing the further they get away from campus.

They reach the diner and TK secures them a booth right by the wall length window. According to him, sitting in one is half the fun of going to a diner. Carlos agrees and pours over the menu in front of him, the two of them placing their order for burgers and shakes.

TK waits until the waitress is gone before sitting forward a bit and grinning.

“Having fun yet?” TK asks.

Carlos playfully rolls his eyes.

“Haven't decided yet. Maybe I’ll have a blast when our food gets here. I’m pretty hungry.”

TK rolls his eyes in return at this but laughs.

“I am having a good time though, seriously. Thanks for suggesting this. Sometimes I get a little too wound up when I’m working on projects.”

“No kidding,” TK snorts. “Thanks for agreeing. I know you still have your doubts about me.”

Something twinges inside of Carlos’ gut at this, but before he can think too hard on it, there’s a knock on the window beside them. They both turn at the sound and Carlos sees a guy giving TK a small wave which he reciprocates almost timidly.

The guy’s smile is a little unsure and he looks away from TK to Carlos briefly before walking away. Carlos isn’t sure what to make of the guy’s expression, but TK’s body language changes a bit as he looks after him. TK visibly shakes himself and refocuses on Carlos.

“Who was that?” Carlos asks, unable to ward off his curiosity.

Their waitress returns with their meals and TK shifts a little in his seat as he picks up a fry and dips it into his shake.

“Alex. We dated last year. Things got...kind of messy. He cheated on me and I didn’t handle it well. At all. But we’re alright now, I guess.”

Carlos looks over his shoulder, but Alex is long gone. He hadn’t really pegged TK for the serious type. Now that Carlos thinks about it, he doesn’t know what he’s truly basing that off of exactly. On occasion he’d see TK with guys, but truthfully, he didn’t know what their connection to each other was.

“I hadn’t realized you dated,” he admits.

TK shrugs. “Not so much any more. That whole thing kind of soured the experience. How about you though? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you with anyone before.”

Carlos pauses mid-bite on his burger.

“You’ve seen me around before?”

TK’s cheeks redden slightly.

“Here and there. You’re mostly always reading or sketching though or spending time with your friend.”

“Grace,” Carlos says fondly. “But, I mean, yeah. I guess my time is split between those things or spending time in the studio. Dating isn’t really on my radar.”

“Why not?”

Carlos looks at him and shrugs a shoulder.

“I don’t like being casual and that’s all anyone is really looking for on campus. Besides, lately I’ve been liking the free time and not having any distractions.”

TK purses his lips together like he’s holding back a comment.

“What?” Carlos prompts.

TK shakes his head and picks at his food a bit.

“Nothing. It’s just—I wonder if that’s part of the reason why you’re going through a block right now.”

Carlos bristles slightly at this.

“And how do you figure that?”

TK takes a second, popping another fry into his mouth.

“Doesn’t art imitate life? If you’re stuck doing the same things over and over, going to the same places, seeing the same people, feeling the same things, well, it’s no wonder you aren’t feeling particularly inspired.”

He says it so matter-of-factly that Carlos feels a bit foolish for not making the connection sooner.

He sits back against the booth and mulls over TK’s words.

“I feel so out of practice with putting myself out there, I wouldn’t even know where to begin.”

TK takes a sip of his drink and smiles.

“You’ve got a lot going for you. I don’t think you’ll have much trouble at all finding someone. I have a hard time picturing anyone turning you down.”

Carlos snorts out a laugh.

“You’d be surprised then. Like I said, commitment seems to be the number one killer. Guys here don’t really go for that and I don’t want meaningless hookups.”

TK stares at him and Carlos thinks perhaps he’s overshared.

“I think that’s pretty cool of you,” TK says. “You aren’t settling.”

Carlos isn’t sure how to respond to that, especially with TK still looking at him like he’s trying to make his mind up about something.

TK drums his fingers against the tabletop, pulling his gaze away from Carlos and to their waitress passing by.

“Excuse me, Miss? Hi, when you get a chance, can we please have two sets of your finest children’s crayons and placemats? Thank you so much.”

The waitress smiles at the ridiculous request but, living up to his last words in the studio, his charm has clearly won this young lady over. Carlos refuses to say it aloud, but it’s working on him too.

“Coming right up,” she says.

She returns a few moments later and TK thanks her one more time as she sets the crayons and papers down.

Carlos eyes the haul, confused as to what TK is playing at. The boxes of crayons only have about four inside judging by the size of them. TK picks up one of them and dumps the contents on the table before doing the same with the other.

“I want you to make something. Don’t think about it. Just draw,” TK instructs, pushing one of the paper placemats in front of Carlos.

“Are you really giving me a creative exercise right now? My professor would be so proud of you.”

TK grins at this and gets started on his own creation. His excitement is palpable, almost kid-like and free in a way Carlos can admit he hasn’t let himself be when it comes to creating for weeks now. It’s practically contagious and Carlos can feel himself letting go and getting swept up in the frenzy.

“Five minutes, starting now,” is all TK says.

Carlos shakes his head and picks up a crayon and gets started too. They work for a few minutes in silence, just the scratches of crayons on paper and the slight jostling of utensils as they each pour over their respective pages.

“Alright, time,” TK says, setting his crayon down.

Carlos adds two quick strokes before putting his crayon aside as well.

“Let’s see it then,” he says to TK who proudly holds up his picture and hands it over to him.

Carlos bursts out laughing at the stick figures of what he assumes must be him and TK seated across from each other now. One figure has green dots for eyes, the other brown. TK’s drawing looks more or less like what a kindergartner would dream up.

“Hey, no laughing. That’s so mean,” TK whines, nudging Carlos’ leg under the table. “Not everyone at this table majors in art, you know.”

Carlos bites back on his lower lip and smiles around it, ignoring the slight tingle he feels in his leg.

“I’m sorry. I don���t know what I was expecting but this wasn’t it. It’s...it’s beautiful. Truly.”

“You’re right. It’s a goddamn masterpiece, thank you,” TK says, looking it over. “Let me see yours.”

Carlos slides his paper across the table, feeling much better about his artwork now that he’s seen TK’s rudimentary piece. With the limited colors, Carlos opted to draw stained glass panels.

“Whoa.” TK looks up at him. “See what you were able to do in just five minutes? Your muse is still in there somewhere. You just need to keep tapping into it.”

Carlos smiles in spite of himself. This exercise, however silly, has served as a reminder of just how much fun he can have when he isn’t taking things so seriously. It’s mind-blowing to think that TK of all people is the one to awaken this in him.

He sighs softly and offers TK his paper back, but the young man shakes his head.

“We’re trading. You can say you have a Strand original. No one else in the world has one of those.”

“I’ll cherish it forever,” Carlos jokes, but the bright smile he earns from TK and the way it makes his own stomach flutter feels serious.

~*~*~

Though he’s gone to school here in Texas for the last three years, TK doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to just how humid it is. Summers in New York are gross, but it’s nothing in comparison to life under a Texas sun.

All the same, TK finds the chatter indoors on campus to be too distracting for his mission to finish up the reading for his English class. Heading back to the frat house filled with his rowdy brothers would be no good either.

TK finds the first available table he can secure in the shade and hunkers down with the novel and his notebook to jot down his thoughts.

He loses himself in the text, so much so that he’s caught completely off guard by the voice close to him that suddenly speaks.

“Mind if I join you?”

TK looks up, a bit stunned to see Carlos, but pleasantly surprised nonetheless.

He’s got a sketch pad tucked under one of his exposed arms. TK’s eyes track the veins that carve their way along Carlos’ forearm before forcing his gaze away.

“Not at all. Please,” he says, gesturing to the seat across from him.

Carlos sets his sketch pad down and settles in,  drumming his fingers on the table.

“I’m glad I ran into you. I was thinking, maybe we could work on setting up some times to meet. I’m not sure what your schedule is looking like these days between final projects and exams, but I’m hoping to cram in as many sessions as we can, so, I apologize in advance if I’m asking too much or cutting into your time. I’m sure you’ve got a lot going on too. But I really do appreciate you helping me out,” Carlos says.

He pauses for a moment, a crease forming between his brows. It’s a telltale sign that whatever he’s going to say next is serious.

“I know I wasn’t…the warmest to you in the beginning. I’m sorry about that. I shouldn’t have held onto it, especially after you apologized. Multiple times.”

TK blinks twice, his brows lifting. The ice between them had certainly melted away at the diner the other day. TK has long since moved past their initial introduction.

“It’s all good. And honestly, this is no trouble. I’m just glad I can somehow help. We’ll get you through that block.”

Carlos lets out a breath and ruffles his curls. “I sure hope so.”

TK smiles reassuringly and picks up his pen again. He props his right arm on the table and places his hand on his cheek as he stares back down at the pages, rereading the last of the notes he jotted down.

“Would it be cool if I did a quick drawing now?”

He peers over at Carlos, rolling his pen between his fingers.

“It’s so hot today. You sure you aren’t ready for me to go shirtless yet?”

Carlos raises a brow in warning, but TK can tell there’s no anger behind it like the last time.

“That’s still a no from me,” Carlos says, rolling his eyes. “Just don’t move this time, okay?”

TK continues to look at him and doesn’t even dare to nod.

Across from him, Carlos opens his sketch pad to a fresh page and begins working on a rough line of him.

TK’s mind floods with a thousand questions he wants to ask Carlos, from the most mundane to the most profound. But he keeps quiet as promised, not wanting to throw off the apparent rhythm Carlos is finding now.

Instead, he stays in place and takes advantage of this time to study Carlos in the way the young man is doing to him. It’s a wonder, TK thinks, that Carlos doesn’t just get a mirror and reference his own reflection for something inspiring to draw.

Just as he thought the first time he saw Carlos out on the quad last year, he is without question the most beautiful guy he’s ever seen in his life. Warm brown eyes, perfect full lips, a strong jawline, and that small crease between his brows as he concentrates making a reappearance, it’s impossible for TK not to fixate on it all. It makes his heart ache to look at him, even more so to think it’s all so futile.

“Are you alright?” Carlos asks, taking TK out of his head for a moment.

“Yeah. Why do you ask?”

Carlos breaks and flexes out his hand as he shrugs.

“I don’t know. Something in your eyes changed.”

TK can feel his face flush a bit in embarrassment.

“Oh. Must have zoned out. Sorry.”

“No need to apologize. Just thought I’d ask.”

There’s no more discussion after that; Carlos resumes drawing and TK does his best to keep his emotions in check. If Carlos looks too closely, he’s bound to know the truth before TK is ready to share it.

Carlos finishes up not too long after and rips the page from his sketchpad before handing it over to TK.

It’s a bit trippy seeing his likeness on the page, but Carlos has done a good job of translating him in this quick sketch.

“What do you think?” Carlos asks after a moment.

“You nailed me. It! You nailed it. The picture, it…god, you know what I mean,” he stammers.

One day he will learn how to speak to Carlos without putting his foot in his mouth.

Carlos’ laugh is rich and seems to fill up every inch of TK’s heart, making it swell in his chest.

“I get it. I’m glad you like it.” Carlos’ smile is private as he looks at the drawing. “First thing in weeks I’m actually proud of.”

“Looks like you’re already coming out of that fog,” TK says.

Carlos’ eyes land on him at once and search his face.

“Maybe you’re turning out to be my good luck charm.”

~*~*~

Sessions with TK are turning out to be highlights in Carlos’ day, despite his best efforts not to get too attached to them. With each one, however, Carlos finds himself feeling more comfortable and settled into his art and he knows that’s due largely in part—or solely—to TK’s credit. TK’s easy-going nature perfectly balances out Carlos’ tendency to overthink and worry. Where sessions inside the studio had once come to feel daunting and frustrating, Carlos now feels optimistic about the kind of work he’s been producing.

It’s been two weeks and already Carlos is seeing improvements, not just in the art he’s making but his outlook overall in tackling his final portfolio.

As usual, he gets to the art room early. TK comes in a few minutes late, a sheen of his sweat on his forehead.

“Sorry I’m late. I got held up with the guys,” he says.

Carlos is about to tell him not to worry when TK leans over to set his bag down, his shirt riding up just a bit to reveal an inch or two of skin. It’s hardly anything obscene and yet it inexplicably quickens the flow of Carlos’ blood.

His eyes flit away and to his empty page but it does little to nothing in curbing the drop of curiosity that’s now bleeding through his thoughts.

“Were you actually being serious when you joked a few times about posing shirtless?”

The question is out of his mouth before Carlos’ has fully conceived of the thought. He has no doubt his face must look as surprised as TK’s right now.

“Are you messing with me?”

Carlos doesn’t see a way of backing out of this now. And, admittedly, he is curious to see where this will lead.

He shakes his head. “No. I…I think we could do at least one with more of your form. But if you aren’t actually comfortable with that–”

TK holds up a hand before pulling his shirt off and tossing it carelessly to the ground.

“How do you want me?”

In the worst way, Carlos thinks as his eyes rake over TK’s chest, flat stomach, and the light dusting of hairs that lead to something Carlos certainly shouldn’t be thinking about.

“Um, standing would be great. Maybe a hand in your pocket, arm curved a bit to get some depth,” he suggests.

TK follows his instruction, completely unself conscious, standing half naked. Something in his eyes shines with such confidence, it leaves Carlos in awe.

He studies TK for a moment. It’s hardly anything new given just how much time they’ve been spending together with Carlos drawing him but it feels different this time, as if he’s truly seeing through to the heart of him.

He realizes perhaps a beat too late that he’s essentially been staring. He coughs once before picking up a bit of charcoal and setting it to the page. It’s much easier now to channel his thoughts. Now it feels far more objective to be taking notice of just how lean yet toned TK’s build is.

For the sake of the piece, he has to notice these details, the dip in TK’s hip where the waistband of his jeans hits him just so, the surprising constellation of birthmarks that sprinkle his torso. It’s his duty now to capture it all.

He takes it all in, a keen eye meticulously mirroring everything he sees. He’s lucked out big time in winding up with TK as his model. For as much as he was reluctant in the beginning, Carlos is glad that he caved. There’s so much to work with here.

TK is patient and manages to stay put, no quips or wise cracking as Carlos finishes up. Carlos takes one last look at his drawing and looks back at TK, more than satisfied with the end result. He nods at TK, giving him the all clear to relax his stance.

TK smiles as he comes over and stands beside him. Carlos’ body goes perfectly still, his eyes trained forward. It’s ridiculous at best, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t feel slightly flustered being this close to TK in such a state.

“At the risk of sounding totally conceited,” TK says, amusement coloring his tone, “I think you’ve really outdone yourself here. You made me look good.”

Carlos looks up at him then, bites back the urge to say he can hardly take credit for that. TK’s still focused on the image before him for a moment, giving Carlos the perfect view of his profile until he turns his attention on him, his green eyes slightly mischievous and his smile all too inviting.

Carlos blinks and looks away, snuffing out the feeling bubbling up inside of him. He refuses to give it enough air to breathe, to let this thing grow into something he can’t control.

~*~*~

TK fires off a quick text to his frat’s group chat as he heads out of his last lecture of the day. With the fraternity’s upcoming party, the guys are even more active than usual, so much so that TK had to silence his phone during class.

As he walks the grounds, catching up on all that he’s missed, he looks up and spots something that stops him dead in his tracks.

Sprawled out on a navy blue sheet is Carlos, his head resting against a backpack like a makeshift pillow. He isn’t alone; unsurprisingly, Carlos is accompanied by Grace who says something that makes Carlos laugh so much, his whole body shakes with it. The sound carries over to TK and calls to him like a siren song.

TK hikes his bag further up his shoulder and makes a beeline for the pair of them, sidestepping other students soaking up the sun and lounging about in between classes.

“Hey, Carlos,” he says once he’s near enough.

Carlos sits up immediately and turns at the sound of his name. His face goes from startled to warm in an instance and TK is just thrilled they’ve reached this point with each other now.

“Hey, how are you?”

“I’m good. I was just passing through and saw you.”

Carlos’ smile grows. “Well, I’m glad you decided to come over. It’s nice to see you.”

Grace clears her throat and Carlos’ nose scrunches adorably at the not-so subtle reprimand.

“TK, this is Grace. Grace, this is TK.”

“It’s so nice to meet you,” TK says sincerely. Grace is such a fixture in Carlos’ life from what he can see, it feels good to finally interact with her.

“You too. You’re spending almost as much time with this one as me these days,” she replies, poking Carlos’ leg.

“Well, he hasn’t got rid of me yet so that’s reassuring.”

She makes a noncommittal sound as she smiles.

“I don’t suspect he would. From what I hear, you’re something of a lifesaver with these sessions you guys have.”

TK’s brow quirks involuntarily as he wonders at what else Carlos has been saying about him to her. He glances quickly at Carlos, but Carlos appears to have taken a sudden interest in toying with the edge of the sheet.

“I’ve been liking them a lot too. Sitting still isn’t exactly my forte, but Carlos is good at reining me in,” he muses.

Grace laughs and gestures for him to take a seat. TK drops his bag first and settles on the ground beside Carlos. There’s a warmth to Grace that makes TK feel as if he knows her; he can already see why Carlos is so fond of her.

She chats him up about his day and asks him a few questions about himself that he gladly supplies answers to. Every now and then Carlos chimes in, but he’s mostly quiet, seemingly observing. TK is struck most of all by how much he feels like he actually fits in with them. It makes him feel bold enough to get them all together again soon.

“My frat is throwing a party this Friday, if you guys are interested,” he says. “I’d really like for you to come if you can.”

“I’ve been here for three years and I’ve never once been to a frat party,” Carlos laughs.

TK holds his tongue in saying that he’s noticed.

“All the more reason for you to drop by then. It’ll be a lot of fun. Music, drinks, ridiculous games. Me.” TK falters for a moment. “Not sure how much of a selling point that last one is but still.”

Grace sits up and smiles.

“I sure could do with a night out and I know Carlos could too.”

Carlos shoots her a look that TK can’t fully decipher and the two of them appear to have a wordless conversation before Grace turns to TK, an even larger smile on her face.

“We’ll both be there. Thank you so much for the invite.”

Beside him, Carlos pouts a bit and TK can’t help but to find it impossibly endearing.

“Yeah, of course. You’re always welcome to come by anytime…for parties or otherwise,” he says, looking between the two of them, his eyes settling on Carlos.

TK clears his throat and focuses on safer territory: Grace.

“Um, anyway. I’ve got a few assignments I need to work on. I just wanted to come over and say hi. I’ll send you the details. See you guys soon,”  he says as he rises from the ground and puts on his bag.

“Tomorrow for me,” Carlos says, catching TK off guard. “If you’re free that is. I was hoping maybe we could squeeze in one more session before the weekend. But if you have to get things together for the party, I’d under—,”

“No. I mean, no to not being free.” TK shakes his head before trying again. “What I mean is, I doubt the guys really need me for much. They’ve thrown plenty of these parties. I think they can more than fend for themselves. Just text me and I’ll be there.”

Carlos searches his eyes for a moment and TK does his best not to squirm under his watchful eye. Carlos’ face betrays nothing of his thoughts and it makes TK all the more curious to know what he may be thinking. It feels like a lifetime passes before Carlos speaks again.

“Great. I’ll keep you posted.”

TK nods once and looks away, almost startled to see Grace still there and looking right at him. Her expression is much easier to read and it tells TK she’s picking up on something he’d rather her not notice.

He feels his face warm up slightly, and feigns wiping at his forehead to play it off as if he’s just hot from afternoon sun glaring down on them.

“Cool. I really should get going, but have a good day, you guys and…I’ll see you both around. It was great meeting you, Grace.”

The two say their goodbyes to him and TK turns, heading back the way he came with an undeniable pep in his step.

~*~*~

It feels like a scene out of the countless movies set at colleges, frat houses lining the streets, drunken people spilling out onto the yards. Inside is decidedly worse. Inside the belly of the beast with loud music and bodies of strangers pressed in against him, Carlos decides his long-standing theory that he would hate frat parties is proven correct to an alarming degree.

It’s easier to digest it all with Grace beside him, but that company is short lived as Grace gets a text from her boyfriend Judd who has locked himself out of his place.

“I’ll go with you,” Carlos offers.

“This is hardly a two person job. Besides, you haven’t seen TK yet. You should stay and find him, let him know you showed up. He invited you.”

“He invited us.”

Grace’s head tips to the side, a light laugh leaving her.

“Oh, honey,” is all she says as she pats his arm. “Promise me you’ll stay and enjoy yourself. At least for a little bit. I don’t want you scurrying back to your apartment and wasting a perfectly good Friday night.”

Carlos groans but nods, giving Grace a hug before she weaves through the crowd. Without her now, Carlos feels wholly unprepared to navigate the scene before him.

He heads for the stairs, avoiding a trio of girls chatting loudly amongst themselves and a couple making out on the landing. It’s too much all at once with music blaring and everyone shouting over the beats to be heard.

He seeks out the first unlocked and unoccupied room he can find upstairs. After a few tries, he lets himself into a bedroom at the end of the hall.

Carlos looks around as he steps further in. There’s a subway map of New York City on one of the walls. On the desk, Carlos sees a picture of TK standing in the middle of a man and woman that he’s the perfect mix of. It’s a snapshot of graduation day in high school, TK proudly holding up his diploma.

Carlos smiles to himself as he picks up the frame for a closer look and for a moment, tries to picture what it might’ve been like to know TK at this time.

He startles at the sound of the doorknob, his head snapping in time to see the door open, TK in the present staring at him in surprise.

“Carlos. You made it.”

Carlos offers up an awkward half smile, feeling more out of place now than he did downstairs. TK looks him over.

“What…what are you doing in here?”

“Sorry. I just needed a minute. I didn’t know this was your room at first,” he says, setting the picture back down and stuffing his hands in his pockets.

TK steps inside and closes the door.

“That’s okay; I don’t mind. I—are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Grace headed out to see her boyfriend and I'm apparently really not good at parties by myself. I don’t know anyone here.”

“Well, that’s not completely true. You know me.”

Carlos smiles a bit.

“Yes, that’s true. But you should be down there mingling. You shouldn’t have to babysit me now. So I’ll just go and let you get back to it. I did have a good time tonight though,” he says politely. “Thanks for inviting me and Grace. I can check this off my college bingo card. Goodnight, TK.”

“Wait,” TK says, grabbing a hold of his wrist lightly as he walks past. “Can’t you just stay here with me? These parties are a dime dozen. We could watch a movie or something up here instead. Please?”

Carlos’ brows furrow. TK seems so serious, nervous even like he’s scared Carlos will just fly away. He tells himself it doesn’t mean anything as he nods, thrilled at the concept of carving out alone time in the midst of it all.

“Okay, yeah. We can do that.”

TK smiles in what looks like relief. It’s only then that he lets go and Carlos’ skin feels cold at once without his touch.

“You can pick. I’ll go grab us some food from downstairs. I’ll be right back, okay? Don’t move.”

TK backs out of the room and Carlos stands for a moment just looking at the door. The impossibilities of tonight just seem to keep coming. Carlos turns away then and looks back to TK’s laptop perched on his bed.

Carlos kicks off his shoes, lines them up at the foot of TK’s bed before climbing inside. It feels both foreign and familiar to be in TK’s bed. His scent is everywhere and it strikes Carlos just how much he’s subconsciously grown to love the smell.

He shakes his head, pushing that thought from mind. He reaches for TK’s laptop instead, bringing it closer as he waits for TK to return. He does a few minutes later, armed with a bag of popcorn and drinks cradled in his arms.

Carlos jumps to help him, alleviating half of his finds. He takes TK’s lead and settles onto the bed once more. It’s even more surreal now having TK beside him.

He keeps himself busy, grabbing a drink for himself.

“Do you want one?” Carlos asks, holding out a beer to him.

TK shakes his head.

“No, I don’t drink.”

Carlos cocks a brow teasingly.

“A frat boy who doesn’t drink. You’re a rare breed.”

Something changes in TK’s eyes and Carlos knows instantly that he’s misstepped severely here.

“I got into some stuff in high school…had a setback not too long ago, but I’ve been good for a year now.”

The full gravity of what that means hits Carlos.

“I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything but…for what it’s worth, that’s pretty amazing. A whole year. Congrats.”

TK genuinely smiles at this. “Thanks. Nights like these are fun, but they can also be tempting sometimes.”

Carlos bites back on his lower lip for a second.

“Why do you come to the parties then?”

TK pauses for a moment and considers the question.

“I guess I like the distraction.”

“From what?” Carlos knows he shouldn’t pry, but his curiosity is piqued and this is the most earnest he’s ever seen TK be.

TK takes another pause, but his eyes quickly find Carlos’ as he answers.

“Feeling alone. Being alone.”

TK lets out an airy laugh as he stretches out his arms and flops back against the pillows.

“God, that sounds horribly depressing and pathetic, doesn’t it? Wow,” he says to the ceiling.

Carlos reaches for his hand before he can fully think about what he’s doing. TK turns his head to look at him then.

“Sounds pretty human to me.” Carlos holds his gaze for a moment, his heart beating a little bit faster now that he’s got TK’s full attention.

Outside of positioning TK during their sessions, he’s never really touched him like this before. He loses his nerve easily and lets go.

“At least for tonight you’re not alone. You have me. Not sure if it counts for anything, but—”

“It means more than you know,” TK cuts in. “It means everything.”

Carlos isn’t sure what to say to this, but luckily TK doesn’t give him room to try and offer up a response.

“So, what will it be, huh?” TK asks, pulling the laptop closer. “Comedy, action, your choice.”

TK’s ability to pivot so easily makes Carlos’ head spin.

There’s so much more below the surface when it comes to TK, a multitude of hidden depths. Carlos wants to explore it all.

~*~*~

TK takes the steps two at a time as he heads down the stairs of the frat house.

The ground and surfaces are littered with trash from last night, but TK is in such high spirits that the impending post-party cleanup does nothing to dampen his mood.

He greets his brothers before beelining for Paul who is cleaning off a mirror covered in lipstick-written scrawls.

“Morning,” he practically chimes, grabbing a washcloth of his own.

“Someone’s in a good mood.”

“Someone’s in a great mood,” he corrects.

Paul’s eyes narrow slightly, calculating.

“You disappeared on us.”

TK shrugs. “I was still here…just up in my room.”

He thinks of how nice it was to come back into his room and find Carlos on his bed, looking as if he belonged there, just an accepted fixture in the room.

Paul raises a brow. “Who was the lucky guy this time?”

“Carlos.”

Paul stops scrubbing at once, his eyebrows shooting upwards.

“Hold up. What? You and Carlos—”

TK shakes his head quickly, holding up his hands.

“Not like that, no. I found him in my room. He’d been feeling, I don’t know, overwhelmed I guess after Grace left and needed a minute to himself. He was going to leave, but I asked him to stay and watch movies with me.”

Paul stares at him for a moment.

“Sooo…you guys basically had a date in the middle of the party.”

TK’s face flushes as he shakes his head.

“It wasn’t a date. We just hung out and talked. It was chill. No big deal.”

Only it certainly felt like a big deal, as if something monumental had shifted between them. TK hadn’t been expecting to get as candid with Carlos as he did last night, but he felt safe to be vulnerable. In all honesty, it felt good to let Carlos in. Easy.

Paul scoffs lightly and rolls his eyes.

“You’re so gone off this guy.”

TK resumes wiping as he tries to collect his thoughts.

Carlos had dozed off midway through the second movie and TK had left him to rest.

By the time Carlos had come to again, face soft from sleep, the credits were rolling. It struck TK, perhaps naively, how much he wished he could wake up to that face.

“Kinda have been for a while now, but it doesn’t matter,” he admits. There’s very little sense in denying what he’s sure has been written on his face this whole time.

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that. He was ready to leave, but he stayed just because you asked him to. You guys really have been spending a ton of time together. I don’t know, it sounds like it could be the beginning of something.”

He wouldn’t know the first thing about molding himself into the shape of a guy worthy of someone like Carlos.

Naturally he’s pictured it, but thinking about something is world’s away from actually having it.

“I don’t want to get my hopes up. We’ve been getting along really well lately, and that can be enough.”

“Considering where you guys started out to where you are now, I’d say that’s an understatement. But I get it. It’s scary putting yourself out there. He seems like a good guy though. If you’re curious to know where his head is at, I’d bet he’d be open about it.”

TK chews on his lower lip.

“In order to find that out, I’d have to tell him what I’m feeling. And I’m just…not there yet.”

Paul nods in understanding.

“At least now you’re upgraded from being his enemy,” he teases. “Anything is better than that.”

~*~*~

As Carlos winds his way through the writing center, he reaches Grace just in time for the end of her current session.

The student she’s with must be a freshman and Carlos has to wonder if he looked that tiny back when he was first starting out.

“I’ll see you next week, okay? Great work today,” Grace says to the student who beams back at her before leaving.

Carlos steps closer, lifting up the tray in his hands that holds two to-go cups and a white paper bag.

Grace makes grabby hands at him and Carlos laughs as he surrenders her English Breakfast tea and madeleines.

She bats her lashes playfully like a cartoon character before thanking him and taking a sip.

“How was the rest of your night? Did you leave right after me or did you actually stay and have some fun with everyone?”

Carlos takes a seat across from her and grabs his coffee.

“Oh, you mean after you ditched me?” he teases. “I stayed. I had fun with TK. We ended up watching movies in his room.”

Grace comically takes a sip of her tea, eyebrow arched.

“Nothing happened,” Carlos says quickly. “He told me a bit more about himself, some personal stuff. It was nice getting to know him better, but that was it.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt that was it,” she says, “but that’s hardly nothing.”

“What do you mean?”

Grace laughs and shakes her head.

“You’re so smart yet so oblivious. It’d be adorable if it weren’t so frustrating.”

Carlos opens his mouth to ask yet again what she’s getting at but his phone buzzes in his pocket. Putting a pin in their talk, Carlos fishes it out, brows furrowing as he sees TK’s name plastered across the screen.

TK never calls; all their communication is done through texts. It instantly puts Carlos on edge thinking something must be wrong.

“It’s him,” he says aloud to Grace before accepting the call and putting the phone to his ear.

“Hey, how are you?”

There’s a short pause and a light exhale on the other end that knots something in Carlos’ stomach.

“Not too good. I’m sorry. I can’t meet next week. I have to head to New York…family emergency.”

Carlos sits up. He’s never heard TK sound this despondent before.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah…no…I’m not really sure. I’m sorry to bail.”

“You don’t have to apologize. Seriously, take all the time you need. If there’s anything I can do to help, just let me know.”

TK falls silent and it makes Carlos’ unease grow, just wondering what could be happening to make TK this frazzled.

“Thank you.” TK sighs softly and Carlos wishes they were face to face now. “I’ll let you go. I need to pack,” he says. “But seriously, thanks for understanding.”

“Of course. Take care, alright? Call me if you need to.”

TK thanks him one last time and says goodbye before ending the call.

Carlos sets his phone down, his thoughts now focused so heavily on TK.

“Everything okay?” Grace asks gently, looking over at him.

Carlos shakes his head slowly and comes back to himself and the moment. He clears his throat and pockets his phone before reaching for his cup.

“I’m not sure. He just called to cancel for next week. He says he’s heading back to New York because of a family emergency. He didn’t say what happened, but he sounded pretty worried.”

Grace frowns. “I hope it’ll be alright.”

“Yeah, me too. He didn’t seem like himself at all.”

Carlos has seen almost every version of TK but until now, troubled hasn’t been one of them. It makes Carlos himself feel anxious inside. The concern must show on his face because Grace calls it out.

“I didn’t realize you started caring so much about him.”

Carlos shrugs a bit.

“He seemed really out of it. Whatever is going on, it must be pretty serious. I just hope he’s okay.”

Grace smiles as she picks up her cup and sets it to her lips.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you guys were actually becoming friends.”

Carlos’ brows furrow as he looks at her. Friends is a heavy word that implies closeness. They have been having breakthroughs since that night at the diner and even more so last night, but Carlos isn’t so quick to go around throwing such a label on things. He’d enjoyed their evening and could tell TK had too but this all still felt far too tentative for concrete titles.

“We have nothing in common.”

“Except for a mutual crush on each other.”

Carlos lets out a laugh and shakes his head.

“I think you’re in need of some fresh air. You’ve been cooped up here all day. It's starting to go to your head,” he says with faux concern.

“I don’t like him in that way and he certainly isn’t into me. I’m not his type.”

Grace looks doubtful and Carlos is certain she won’t be letting this matter go any time soon. It makes Carlos nervous in a way that it shouldn’t. He doesn’t want to stare too closely at the small seed of interest that has settled inside him. To do so would be setting himself up for imminent disappointment.

He’s seen how casual TK is, how little he takes things seriously. If that’s his outlook on most things, it feels safe to guess the same would go for relationships–– especially given what he shared about his ex.

Carlos almost groans now that the idea is growing roots. Now the picture of what dating TK would be like is filling out the corners of his mind. He shakes his head lightly and picks up his cup again, draining the contents for something to do.

“How could you possibly know that?” Grace presses.

“I’ve seen his ex. I’ve seen the people he hangs around. I wouldn’t get along with any of them. It stands to reason that outside of these sessions, TK and I wouldn’t fare well either.”

“Opposites attract, no? You guys are different, sure, but that’s what makes it so much fun. You’ll learn so much more that way.”

She makes a good point but Carlos refuses to allow himself to go there. At best his relationship to TK now is transactional. TK gets to absolve himself of the guilt over his comments at the showcase and Carlos gets to round out his portfolio. Once the semester is over in just a few weeks, he’s willing to bet they’ll go their separate ways and return to a life where they are no longer in each other’s orbits.

Carlos does his best to ignore the sinking feeling that hits him just then.

“He seems nice. And he’s very cute,” Grace tacks on. “You spend all this time drawing him. You can’t tell me you haven’t noticed.”

Carlos sighs and runs a hand through his hair.

“Of course I’ve noticed. I noticed the first time I ever saw him.”

Grace perks up at this and smiles.

“But then he opened his mouth at the showcase. And whatever…attraction, however fleeting, it went right out the window.”

Her smile instantly fades.

“That feels like a lifetime ago. He’s apologized several times over and you guys are in a good place now.”

Carlos looks away then, back to his now empty paper cup and picks at the lid with his thumbnail. They really have been carving out a unique dynamic and the more time they spend together, Carlos can feel a difference inside of him. With TK, he’s able to laugh again and get out of his own head. That alone feels like a gift. The last thing Carlos wants to do is go tampering with that, pushing for more if there’s no actual interest on TK’s end.

“I know. But it’s better this way.”

“Better or safer? Those aren’t the same things,” she says.

Carlos looks up at her then. Safer, he thinks. There’s no chance of getting hurt if he doesn’t take the risk at all. If nothing changes, he doesn’t have to open himself up to the inevitability of TK growing bored.

“I think he likes you. I think he has for a while now.”

If Grace’s suspicions are true, Carlos thinks the feelings may be temporary. From the start, TK’s objective has been to earn his forgiveness, to be in good standing with him. It’s a game that will ultimately run its course and once it does, there will be no reason for TK to stay.

At best, they’re on borrowed time and if they in fact come with an expiration date, Carlos doesn’t want to be the reason it ends even earlier.

He clenches his jaw and Grace gives him the most sympathetic look that makes him feel pathetic. He isn’t fooling either one of them here.

“A guy like him could break my heart if I gave him the chance,” he says honestly. He feels lighter from confessing to this already. “I have too much on my plate right now to add dating and feelings into the mix. We’ll work towards friendship and keep it at that.”

Grace purses her lips but doesn’t say anything–– not that she has to. Carlos can tell she doesn’t agree with a word of this, that she would want him to have his best shot of happiness like she’s been able to find with Judd. But Carlos knows that not every story gets a happy ending. The sooner he accepts that fate for himself, the easier it will be when faced with the reality of it.

~*~*~

The best way to describe TK’s thoughts and movements today would be auto-pilot. He can’t exactly remember getting to his classes, but he’s got pages filled in his books with notes from each one with today’s date. He moves through campus in a fog, his thoughts close to two thousand miles away in New York City and on his father he had to leave behind.

The guilt gnaws at him uncomfortably though he knows there isn’t much he can do or is even expected to do. All the same, being at school feels trivial in the grand scheme of things. He feels like a stranger in this place that’s been so familiar to him for years now.

What he needs, he ultimately decides, is some kind of semblance, something that feels safe.

It’s the first fully conscious choice he makes today. At the end of his last lecture, he stuffs his bag with his belongings and journeys from the science building and across campus to the art one.

TK keeps an eye on the art room numbers until he gets to the one Carlos typically sets up shop in. He peeks through the glass, smiling to himself when he spots Carlos alone.

At once, his mind finally quiets.

Carlos is seated at one of the large work tables, his glasses jostling a bit as he rubs at his right eye. TK can only imagine how long he’s been here, no doubt toiling away on the piece in front of him. He has his headphones on, his lips moving soundlessly to the lyrics of whatever song he’s listening to. He doesn’t pick up on the fact that TK has now entered the room.

It gives TK the chance to study him for a moment as he begins sketching again. His brows narrow to a point as he works. It’s obvious, even from a distance, just how much care Carlos is putting into the piece.

TK takes another step but manages to break the silence in the room, his leg bumping against a stool.

Carlos jumps a bit in his seat and takes off his headphones. TK can hear the tinny sound of instruments just before Carlos pauses his music. He looks a little flustered as if TK has caught him doing something embarrassing. Before TK can apologize for the intrusion, Carlos is greeting him with a tentative smile and speaking.

“TK. I didn’t realize you were back.”

TK adjusts the strap on his shoulder and smiles a bit, ignoring the small thrill that runs through him at the sound of his name on Carlos’ tongue.

“Yeah, I got in early this morning. I figured you might still be in here. At least I hoped you were.”

Carlos looks at him and TK can see the concern in his eyes.

“I’m glad you got in safely. Is…is everything alright back home?”

TK looks down at his hands. He’s barely been back in Austin and already TK wishes he could return to New York. It’s where his thoughts have been from the moment he’d gotten the call from his dad a couple of days ago.

TK had been quick to book the first flight he could. It’d brought him immense relief to be by his father’s side over the last few days.

“No, not really,” he mumbles. “My dad got diagnosed with lung cancer.”

Carlos curses softly and gets up. For the faintest of seconds, it looks as if Carlos is about to hug him. TK pushes past the disappointment that washes through him when it doesn’t happen. He and Carlos don’t have that kind of relationship, he knows. He isn’t even sure what he would define their dynamic as these days but friends feels a shade or two off from what they actually are.

“TK, I’m so sorry.”

TK shakes his head. “Thanks. It's the best case scenario though, according to his doctor anyway. My dad is feeling confident so I’m trying to follow his lead on that one and not think about it too much but—,” he sighs. “It’s scary. I’m scared but I don’t want him to see that.”

TK had been terrified but for the sake of his father–– and perhaps his own well-being–– TK has been trying his hardest not to dwell on it or make matters worse by fretting over things that haven’t even happened yet and probably never will.

“I can’t even imagine what you must be feeling, but I hope he gets better soon and that you’ll be okay too. I know this must be really hard for you. That doesn’t even do it justice.”

Carlos is so earnest; TK can see the sincere anguish in his eyes. It makes him feel a little less alone having shared this with someone outside of his family.

“Thanks, that means a lot.” He draws in a breath, the weight of this truly pressing against him now.

“Anyway, I just thought I’d swing by and let you know that I’m back. So, whenever you want to meet up again, we can figure something out.”

TK gives a small wave and turns half way before Carlos touches his arm. TK looks down at the other man’s hand on his bicep and back up to his face. Carlos quickly pulls his hand away. His touch was brief but TK misses the feel of it already.

“Sorry,” Carlos says, clearing his throat.

“It’s okay.”

They stay quiet for a moment, Carlos searching his eyes. TK can’t help but to wonder, as he always does, what Carlos thinks when he looks at him. His gaze is piercing but softens by the second.

“Do you actually want to be alone right now?”

TK almost sighs in relief and shakes his head. What he wants now more than anything is a distraction, something to take him out of his head for however long it can last.

It makes his heart skip a beat to realize Carlos is able to pick up on that.

Carlos nods once and takes a seat again. TK peers over at the picture he’s been drawing, his eyes widening at the image of himself. Carlos’ skills are truly remarkable and TK can barely tear his eyes away from his likeness on the paper.

“It looks incredible.”

Carlos studies the drawing, his lips turning downward into a bit of a frown.

“I don’t know. There’s something off. Tonally. Drawing from memory isn’t the same,” Carlos says with a sigh, raking a hand through his curls. “But it’s a good start though, I think.”

TK closes the space between them a bit more. Closer to Carlos now, he takes in a small breath, Carlos’ cologne making his head swim and his chest ache.

“Maybe you need to get familiar with me firsthand? That way it’ll stick.”

Carlos pulls his gaze away from the drawing of TK to the real thing, his eyes wide behind his glasses.

“What exactly are you saying?”

The question comes out quietly, measured, almost like Carlos is too afraid to put much weight behind his words. It feels like a challenge TK suddenly realizes he isn’t ready to accept. If he’s wrong, there’s no undoing putting himself out there in such a bold way.

TK swallows hard and shakes his head.

“I’m not really sure,” he lies, surprising himself for how quickly he’s grown discouraged.

He scratches behind his ear and takes a step away from Carlos, undoing all of his progress from before. Carlos blinks twice at him and holds his gaze.

“Um, on second thought, I’m feeling kind of tired from the flight and classes. I think…I think I’ll finish up some assignments and crash early tonight.”

Carlos doesn’t say anything, just nods slowly and picks up his bit of charcoal again. His face is a bit flushed, the tips of his ears pink.

“Right. Yeah, okay. I’ll see you tomorrow or whenever is good for you. If you want to talk, I’m here. I hope you know that.”

Carlos reaches for him again and this time, it seems intentional as he touches TK’s wrist. TK prays Carlos doesn’t notice the uptick in his pulse. He can feel sparks just under his skin, like a live wire but he tamps it down, schools his face into what he hopes is a casual expression.

“I do and I appreciate it. I really do.”

This seems to reassure Carlos who smiles softly and gives him a gentle squeeze. TK doesn’t know if he’d rather Carlos not touch him at all or if he wants him to never let go; this contact is downright tortuous.

In the end, Carlos lets his hand slip away, leaving TK with the phantom feeling of his touch and faint smudges on his skin.

“Good. You aren’t alone in this, TK. I want to help any way that I can.”

~*~*~

The moment he’s left alone, Carlos drops his head into his hands and groans. His glasses press uncomfortably back into his face, but he hardly cares about that now. He’s got more pressing things to worry about.

I should have kissed him.

This thought plays on a sick loop in his mind now as the image of TK walking out of the art room circles alongside it. He shouldn't have let him go. The opening was right there, or so it had felt like it was. TK’s wording could have gone either way, but it seemed too foolish to assume he was flirting.

I think he likes you. I think he has for a while now.

Maybe Grace was right and tonight, TK was one step closer to admitting it. Maybe this was it and Carlos had just somehow managed to throw a wrench in that by openly questioning it.

Carlos finally sits up and lets out a heavy sigh, his eyes wandering around the quiet art room before landing on his drawing of TK that, in more ways than one, pales in comparison to the real thing.

Frustration courses through him and for a wild moment, he thinks of scribbling out the image he’s worked so hard on or simply crumpling it up and tossing it away. It feels almost like it’s mocking him now, TK’s eyes staring back at him on the page, intense and uncertain just as they’d been only moments ago.

Carlos calls it quits shortly thereafter, deciding to simply stuff the sheet of paper into his folder and bury it inside his bag.

He puts his headphones back on and queues up music for his walk home. Though the sun has already set, the air still feels uncomfortably warm against his skin. Constricting almost, but Carlos isn’t so sure that isn’t just his mind playing tricks on him. The only thing that’s truly suffocating now are his thoughts, all of them centered solely on a certain guy with stunning green eyes and perfect lips that he absolutely should have kissed.

He considers calling Grace now to get her opinion, but the more he plays it back in his head, he’s not sure if there really is anything to report on. It certainly did sound as if TK was flirting with him and it scares Carlos just how much he wishes that was actually the case. What terrifies him more is if he’s wrong.

He decides against calling her, too fearful of owning up to his cowardice and uncertainty and settles on driving himself mad replaying the entire exchange the whole way over to his apartment.

Carlos kicks off his shoes at the door and locks back, shutting off his music and taking his headphones off. He heads to the bathroom, scrubs his hands clean of the charcoal he’d been working with this evening before taking a shower.

All the while his mind still buzzes with thoughts of TK, even after he’s settled in for the night.

He rolls over in bed and reaches for his phone, the screen telling him it’s just after eleven. He goes to his messages and hesitates as he taps on his thread with TK. Carlos debates whether or not to reach out. TK had mentioned he’d had a long day and would be heading to bed early. He certainly deserved all the rest he could get after the week he’s had.

Carlos pushes the doubt aside. If anything, TK will simply just wake up to his message and there was no harm in that.

Carlos

Just checking in. I hope you’re okay. My offer still stands, if you need someone to talk to.

TK’s reply comes quickly.

TK

i was just about to text you

can i come over?

Carlos bolts upright and stares at his screen. He reads the simple sentences three times, not sure he can trust his own eyes before replying with a yes and sharing his address.

~*~*~

TK doesn’t hesitate as Carlos’ text comes in.

He stuffs his feet into the nearest pair of shoes he can find, caring very little about showing up to Carlos’ place in sweats and t-shirt. He’s wasted enough time.

As he arrives at Carlos’, TK feels anxious—in the best way possible. Being around Carlos always makes him happy and though they left things on a semi-awkward note this evening, TK is just glad to have another chance to see him again so soon.

Maybe now he’ll find the nerve he lost just a few hours ago.

He knocks twice on Carlos’ door and stares straight ahead, his chest tightening a bit in anticipation as he hears the door unlock, Carlos opening it a second later.

TK can’t help the way his eyes travel along Carlos’ impressive frame. He doesn’t think there’s a person on earth who could blame him for it, not with Carlos standing there in a form fitting tank.

The material looks damn near painted on, clinging to every contour of his abdomen and completely putting his strong arms on display.

TK tears his eyes away from Carlos’ body long enough to look at his face. It’s soft at this late hour, made all the more endearing by a loose damp curl that hangs just so over his forehead.

Suddenly his mind fills with ill-advised thoughts of Carlos in the shower. He tucks that into the back of his head. Now isn’t the time, but he can’t make any promises he won’t revisit it later.

He swallows hard and struggles to remember how to speak.

“You were right before. I don’t want to be alone…but I also really don’t want to talk about that stuff with my dad.”

Carlos nods and steps aside to let him in.

“That’s okay. We don’t have to. Honestly, I’m just glad you’re here. I was worried about you.”

TK smiles softly at that as he comes into the apartment. He looks around himself, drinking in his newfound surroundings.

Carlos’ place is more or less what he pictured the apartment of an art major to look like. There are haphazard stacks of art books, novels, and sketch pads crammed into and on top of bookcases. Large empty canvases and an easel lean against the walls. All around are paintings and drawings TK assumes are all done by Carlos himself.

TK stops short of one picture in particular, spotting his own drawing from that night at the diner pinned to the wall.

He looks over his shoulder at Carlos and finds the young man already looking at him.

“You kept it,” he says, unable to keep the surprise out of his voice. “Not only that, you displayed it.”

“Strand originals are rare, or so I’ve been told,” Carlos replies with a casual shrug before breaking out into a smile.

TK bites back on his lip and shakes his head in disbelief. A gesture like that has to mean something.

He gets back to milling about Carlos’ apartment, looking at more of the art that adorns the walls.

“Do you want something to drink? Tea, water, coffee?”

TK glances over at him.

“You’re really big on hospitality, huh?”

Carlos’ cheeks flush a bit. “I just want you to be comfortable here is all.”

“I’m always comfortable with you. Maybe a little too much sometimes,” TK says, moving away from the wall and taking a seat on the couch.

Carlos lingers for a moment before following him over. Rather than sitting beside him, Carlos perches on the coffee table right across from him.

“Is that such a bad thing?”

TK shakes his head. “Never said that it was.”

Carlos’ jaw clenches, the muscle flexing as he pulls in a breath. He runs a hand through his semi-damp curls.

“I don’t know what to make of you sometimes. You confuse me.”

TK sits up, his head tilting slightly.

“Ask me anything then. Maybe I can clear some stuff up for you.”

Carlos looks a bit taken aback by this level of openness. He squares his shoulders and TK can already guess where his thoughts must be now.

“What did you mean earlier? In the art room?”

TK searches Carlos’ eyes and leans in closer to him. He can hear Carlos’ breath catch. TK is tired of second guessing, of thinking at all.

He gently cups Carlos’ face, his own breath faltering now as his thumb brushes lightly against Carlos’ bottom lip.

He leans in slowly, heart pounding fiercely but Carlos doesn’t move away or make any signal that he doesn’t want this to go any further.

“I meant,” TK says softly, “that you should get to know me in a different, more intimate way.”

He lost his nerve earlier. He won’t make the same mistake twice.

“That way, whenever we’re apart again, you’ll know the feel of me, not just the sight. You could pull from a more concrete memory.”

TK licks his lips and strokes the corner of Carlos’ mouth with his thumb again.

“If that’s something you’d want, anyway.”

Carlos’ eyes widen but they flicker with an unmistakable wanting. Carlos closes the space between them at once, one hand gently caressing the nape of TK’s neck. This touch alone sends sparks through TK’s entire body. Carlos has touched him before, but never like this and certainly without this level of intent behind it.

TK braces himself as the small gap between their lips fades entirely. The first press of Carlos’ lips on his makes TK feel dizzy. His eyes close as he embraces it, getting lost in the heady rush of Carlos’ mouth claiming his. TK hands it all over willingly.

Heat pools in the pit of his stomach, something molten that seemingly courses through his veins the longer the kiss goes on.

He opens his mouth and it’s as if Carlos had merely been waiting for the opportunity to deepen it, his tongue ensnaring TK’s hungrily. The moan that rips through Carlos makes the hairs on the back of TK’s neck rise.

He’s never been kissed like this before, as if it’s vital to the other person. Carlos kisses him like he’s essential to his well-being just then.

TK lets him have his fill, pulling him in closer still, greedy for every little bit of him that he can get. His hands find their way into Carlos’ hair and clutch firmly to the smooth, slick curls. His body shudders, his fingers tugging gently on Carlos’ strands. It makes a small whimper emit from him and TK relishes in learning all the ways to make him come undone.

Carlos slows down but doesn’t part, his fingers gently combing through his hair. The gesture somehow makes TK’s heart beat even faster.

TK rests his forehead against Carlos’ and pecks his lips one last time as he breathes Carlos in, mind racing. He’s pictured this far too many times than he’d ever admit aloud. Yet still, nothing could have ever prepared him for the reality of it.

“I thought you hated me,” he says, his voice a bit hoarse as his brain comes back online.

Carlos lets out a soft airy laugh and shakes his head.

“More like I’ve been hating how badly I want you. This didn’t seem possible.”

TK pulls back enough to look at him.

“Why in the world would you think that?”

Carlos presses his lips together. His eyes look troubled; it’s obvious he doesn’t want to answer. TK kisses the pinched skin between his brows.

“We don’t have to get into it now,” he says, an echo of the out Carlos gave him when he first walked through the door.

This seems to ease Carlos who nods and finds his lips once more, letting his hand shift to rest gently on TK’s cheek. TK places his hand over Carlos’ as he kisses him back fervently, as Carlos’ tongue skimming across his lips in a plea for entry.

TK grants it to him and would a thousand times over if it means never having to let this go.

~*~*~

Carlos’ eyes flutter open to the warmth of sunlight bathing his face. It’s calm in the way mornings always are for him, but the memory of last night hits him with all the ferocity of an 18-wheeler.

He sits upright quickly and is alarmed by the piercing silence and the fact that he’s alone. He and TK didn’t go far last night, but they’d made it to his bed and kissed until fatigue found them both.

He checks his phone at once, relief flooding him immediately as he sees a series of texts from TK.

TK sorry for cutting out this morning.

trust me, if i could have stayed right there with you, i would have

might have to fight my professor though for scheduling a quiz today or else i’d bail on class

last night was…amazing. that sounds cheesy but it’s true.

can i see you later?

Carlos smiles as he reads over TK’s rambling messages again before writing back.

Carlos

You made the right call in not skipping your quiz. Hope you aced it.

I’d really like to see you, too. Meet you in the studio around 4?

The rest of the day passes slowly in the way time always seems to move when something a person is looking forward to looms.

Carlos anxiously keeps an eye on the door as the time draws nearer for TK to arrive. Ten minutes after four, the door opens and Carlos’ head whips towards the entrance as TK steps in. He takes reassurance in the fact that TK still seems as cheery as his texts did this morning.

“Hey,” Carlos greets, feeling a bit jittery.

TK’s smile is warm and as he leans in to give him a hug, Carlos feels himself relaxing against his body. Being this close to him again so soon just makes what transpired last night all the more vivid.

“I’m glad you wanted to meet up. I think we really need to talk.”

TK’s eyes narrow a bit in what looks like genuine worry.

“Those are never good words to hear,” he says, taking a seat on the tabletop as Carlos sits back down.

Carlos runs a hand through his hair and peers up at him.

“I guess I’m just wondering if you regret last night,” he replies. “The timing...I know you were upset over your dad. Understandably. Maybe kissing me was a distraction at the moment. Things kind of snowballed.”

He bites the corner of his lip and exhales softly through his nose.

“I’d get it if it didn’t actually mean more to you than that. If you just needed to take your mind off everything for a bit.”

TK puts a hand gently on his cheek. It’s so painfully intimate, Carlos can’t bear to meet his gaze anymore.

“Look at me,” TK urges, tucking his hand under Carlos’ chin to guide his eyes upward.

It takes Carlos a few seconds but he searches his face, trying to scan for any sign of discomfort or unease but TK’s eyes are fierce, his voice steady.

“That wasn’t a one off. I don’t want it to be. Whenever I’ve pictured kissing you for the first time, it’s never been on the heels of some major life update. But I don’t regret it. Not for a second. Do you?”

Carlos quickly shakes his head.

“It’s all I’ve been able to think about. If I’m being honest, I think I’ve been wanting that for a while now.”

TK smiles widely at this and something inside of Carlos’ chest aches at the sight of it, knowing that he’s somehow responsible for making him this happy.

“Me too.” TK sighs. “Confession time? I’ve had a crush on you for months. Okay, a year now, actually. So, yeah, I’ve wanted to kiss you for a pretty long time. Not just last night.”

TK reaches for his hand and Carlos laces their fingers together.

“A year?” Carlos repeats. “You didn’t even know me then.”

TK groans. “I know. But I wanted to. So badly. And I’d see you around all the time…I don’t know. I just never worked up the nerve to even say hi.”

Carlos smiles at him, tipping his head to the side.

“Hi.”

TK playfully shoves his shoulder. “Hello,” he says back.

Carlos places both hands on TK’s thighs as he stands up slowly and crowds his space a bit. He can’t help but to feel a little bit smug as TK’s eyes widen and he swallows hard.

Carlos leans in slowly, brushing his nose gently against TK’s before pressing their lips together. TK breathes out softly, a small burst of air against Carlos’ lips before diving back in.

It’s all too easy to lose himself in this kiss, especially as they both grow a bit more daring, hands exploring. Carlos clutches firmly onto TK’s thighs as his hand slips under his shirt and rests on his abs.

TK pulls back enough to look at him, his thumb ghosting just under Carlos’ navel. Until this moment, Carlos can’t say he’d ever realized that spot was a weakness.

Carlos’ jaw clenches as he tries to rein himself in but TK doesn’t let up, no doubt enjoying seeing what his touch does to him. Carlos leans forward, his face burying into the side of TK’s neck. He kisses him once behind the ear.

“Do you have someplace you need to be for the rest of the day?” he asks, his fingertips tracing a trail up TK’s inner thigh.

TK shudders against him and nods twice.

“Yeah,” he rasps. “Your bedroom.”

~*~*~

By the time they reach Carlos’ apartment, TK feels about ready to burst out of his skin.

As soon as Carlos lets them inside, TK has him pressed up against the door, his mouth greedily laying claim to Carlos’.

Carlos matches his fervor, placing both hands on either side of TK’s face and keeping him firmly in place as his tongue slides into his mouth.

TK whimpers, his hips thrusting forward involuntarily at Carlos' assuredness, how effortlessly he’s able to take control though he’s the one pinned against the door.

Carlos lets his hands wander, his palms skimming down TK’s shoulder blades and down his back. He holds onto TK’s frame firmly and TK is glad for it. With how lighthearted he feels now being touched and kissed like this, it helps to have something sturdy keeping him on both feet.

Carlos breaks away, his breathing a bit ragged as he tugs on the hem of TK’s shirt before taking it off completely.

This isn’t the first time TK has stood before Carlos shirtless, but the context is completely different, as is the way Carlos is looking at him.

“You can touch me now,” he says, assuming Carlos’ thoughts must be similar to his own.

A small smile tugs at the corner of Carlos’ lips, letting TK know he’s right.

Carlos reaches out with both hands, letting his palms rest flatly against his chest. TK is positive Carlos can feel how wildly his heart is pumping, but he can’t find it within himself to feel embarrassed or bashful about it.

He’s wanted this so desperately for a year now. He’s having a hard enough time even wrapping his head around the fact that this is actually happening.

Carlos’ palms slide further down until his hands drop off at the waistband of his jeans. Carlos hooks an index finger through one of the belt loops and tugs TK toward his bedroom.

TK kisses him softly as soon as they’re through the door, his eyes fluttering shut as he savors the taste of Carlos once again. He cradles the back of his head, fingers grasping a fistful of curls gently. He walks backwards, leading them to the bed. The back of his legs hit against the mattress, the two of them tumbling down softly.

TK doesn’t stop kissing him, even as his lungs begin to burn in protest. Carlos breaks first, his breathing just as heavy. TK takes the small reprieve to look at him and takes stock. Carlos’ usually warm brown eyes are dark with hunger, his mouth red and swollen. He looks absolutely wrecked already and TK is all too eager to break him down some more.

Carlos takes off his shirt, dropping it off the side of the bed as he shifts to straddle him. TK can’t drink in the sight fast enough.

It was hardly difficult to guess the other man had an incredible body, but daydreaming until this point has still left him wholly unprepared.

It’s ironic, TK thinks, that Carlos studies art when he looks like this, like some carving of a god turned to flesh. TK could write novels about Carlos’ pecs alone, never mind the rest of him.

“Are you okay?” Carlos asks, breaking TK from his thoughts. “You haven’t said anything in about a minute. That must be a record,” he teases.

TK laughs. “How’s this then? How are you real?”

Carlos’ face and neck flush and it further supports TK’s inquiry. There’s simply no way a guy like this actually exists, but faced with this impossibly lucky scenario, he won’t question it.

He lets his fingers explore the terrain of Carlos’ abdomen shamelessly, the ridges of hard muscle, the smoothness of his skin. He delights in the goosebumps that rise on Carlos’ arms as a result of his touch. He wonders if he’ll ever get used to this effect he has on the other man. TK doesn’t think that’s possible.

Their eager hands quickly remove the rest of their clothes, the process only impeded slightly as they steal kisses in between.

With no barriers between them, TK feels something like a current run beneath his skin having Carlos naked on top of him.

Carlos hovers over him a moment, a feather-light touch of his index finger connecting the dots along his torso before being replaced with his mouth and tongue. TK’s back arches toward the warmth, his toes curling as Carlos maps out a path down to his hip.

TK’s legs spread instinctively. Carlos mutters a curse under his breath as he burrows between TK’s thighs. His kisses and bites are deliberate and teasing. He’s so wound up and leaking, his body craving even more. TK is certain he’s going to combust if Carlos keeps at this rate.

He says as much and earns nothing more than a laugh. Carlos kisses his way back up TK’s body until their mouths are aligned. He runs his hand across TK’s hipbone before brushing his thumb across the head of TK’s cock. TK writhes against the sheets, letting out a choked sound in surprise and quickly melts into Carlos’ touch, his hips snapping forward.

Carlos curses quietly and gets his hand around the both of them, setting a steady pace as he jerks them both off.

Carlos sucks on his neck, hard enough that TK knows it’ll leave a mark. He couldn’t care less. If anything it’d feel like an honor to have the proof of tonight plastered on his skin for the world to see.

With each slide of Carlos’ cock against his own, TK feels his sanity slipping, his thoughts entangling so much he can barely form anything coherent. It’s never felt like this with anyone before. The way they work off each other is unlike anything he could have ever imagined.

“Carlos, I’m—,” he chokes off, unable to finish his sentence as a ripple of pleasure washes through him.

He grips Carlos’ wrist and closes his eyes as he catches his breath. Carlos stills, his soft breaths fanning across TK’s face.

“I want all of you,” Carlos rasps, his forehead resting gently to TK’s.

Somehow this soft press alone feels even more intimate than anything else.

“I’m right here. Have me.”

Carlos kisses the tip of his nose and moves off of him briefly to rummage through his nightstand, returning to him when he’s grabbed what he needs.

TK licks his lips and settles back against the pillows. He watches Carlos coat his fingers and feels his heartbeat ratchet up as Carlos’ hand falls between his legs.

The first brush of Carlos’ fingertips against his rim knocks the breath from TK’s lungs. He bites back on his lower lip as Carlos begins to prep him in earnest, his mouth falling open at the first slide of Carlos’ finger inside him.

His body relaxes at the other man’s touch. TK seeks out Carlos’ mouth, kissing him heatedly as he grinds down against his finger. Carlos’ pace is steady and TK feels him everywhere at once. As one finger becomes two and two becomes three, TK gives himself over to Carlos completely, in absolute awe of the way he’s able to get under his skin and loosen him up.

He sighs softly as Carlos removes his hand, body practically vibrating as Carlos shifts to get a condom over himself.

TK grips his hips and guides him forward, his eyes rolling shut as Carlos enters him carefully.

“Oh, my god,” he rasps, throat dry as he’s filled.

He dares to open his eyes then and finds Carlos looking right at him, his gaze piercing and sure. Carlos brushes his knuckles across his jawline before dropping kisses along that same path. It’s a level of intimacy TK hadn’t been expecting, but he relishes in it all the same.

His grip on Carlos tightens as he drives into him over and over. He lets Carlos’ words of praise wash over him, delighting in hearing how good he feels to Carlos. He shares the sentiments entirely.

TK traps his bottom lip between his teeth to stifle his moans, but Carlos gently tugs at his chin until he sets it free again.

“Don’t get quiet on me now. I want to hear you,” he muses, kissing his forehead as he thrust forward hitting TK’s prostate directly.

TK cries out in pleasure, his dull nails scratching at Carlos’ back. Carlos lets out a moan of his own, his free hand fastening around TK’s cock and stroking his length steadily as he works himself in and out of TK.

TK’s left leg fastens around Carlos, his hips shifting slightly. The new angle drives Carlos in deeper with each return.

Their sounds echo off the walls, heavy pants and muttered curses as the pressure mounts. TK can feel himself losing the battle to stave off his finish, his cock twitching against Carlos’ palm.

He comes hard a few beats later, his hips snapping forward all the while. He can feel the tension in Carlos’ taut frame. TK’s hands move down the expanse of Carlos’ back to his ass, his lips brushing against the shell of his ear.

“You’re right there, babe, come on,” he urges, the pet name falling freely without a thought.

Carlos trembles, breath catching as he finishes. TK helps him ride his orgasm out, stroking his back as Carlos fucks into him. Carlos’ movements come to a halt but they stay tangled in each other for a little while, enough for TK’s heart rate to return to normal.

“You’re unbelievable,” Carlos says, searching TK’s face before kissing him so deeply it pushes all thoughts from TK’s head.

Begrudgingly they part, getting themselves cleaned up and with each second that passes, TK grows more anxious that this night has come to an end.

“Could I borrow this?” TK asks, holding up an Astros crewneck sweater he finds on Carlos’ desk chair.

“Go for it.”

TK slips the sweater on, at once comforted by the soft material and Carlos’ scent imbedded in the fibers. It almost feels as if Carlos is embracing him.

TK leans down to kiss him goodbye. Carlos’ hands frame his face as he kisses him back, so deeply it stirs up something inside TK. He sinks back down to the bed again, straddling Carlos’ lap, knees sinking into the bedding.

Carlos’ kiss is all-consuming, TK can feel it in every inch of his body. His head is in such a fog by the time he pulls away for a clean breath.

“I should really go.”

“Why?” Carlos asks, dragging his index finger along TK’s jawline.

It’s a fair question that he has no answer to. Carlos’ kiss doesn’t feel like a send off in the way past hookups have. It’s not an ending, merely a beginning.

TK lets himself get pulled into another kiss, hearing nothing other than the blood pounding in his ears as Carlos’ tongue sweeps across his bottom lip. TK opens his mouth to him at once, so keen he is in his desire to have every bit of Carlos that he can.

Carlos braces the back of his neck and flips TK to the mattress, slotting himself between his legs.

“Stay with me,” Carlos whispers against his lips.

They’re three simple words, but they strike at something inside TK. He isn’t used to being picked like this. It’s been far too long since he’s allowed a physical connection to be anything more than just that.

But he remembers that evening at the diner, Carlos’ views on dating, and simply just knowing who Carlos is. This means something to Carlos in the same way it does to him.

As far as offers go, this is undoubtedly the best one TK has ever gotten. So long as Carlos wants him around, he isn’t going anywhere.

~*~*~

Carlos wakes with a start. Moonlight creeps through his bedroom window, a pale streak of color in an otherwise dark room.

Beside him, TK is curled up against the comforter, still in the borrowed Astros sweater, the cuffs pulled over his hands a bit. Carlos studies him for a moment, the sereness on TK’s face, the steady rise and fall of his chest, the mark he left on the column of TK’s throat mere hours ago.

His fingers itch to touch him or to draw him. His mind floods with the memory of their time spent getting lost in each other, in learning the intricacies of each other’s bodies.

He rubs at his shoulder and closes his eyes, remembering all too clearly what it felt like having TK hold on to him firmly right here in this very same bed. He smiles to himself as his eyes open and land on TK, once again admiring him. This whole thing has felt like an extremely vivid dream, but the proof that it happened is right here snoozing soundly on his pillow.

Carlos gets out of bed quietly, careful not to wake TK up. He pads down the hall to the living room, grabbing tarp, an available canvas and his painting supplies. He glances at the clock and registers that it’s 2 o’clock in the morning. But with how wired he feels now, it may as well be the afternoon.

He spreads out the tarp and sets his supplies on top. There’s such a comfort that comes with painting, especially in silence like this. With the outside world so still, Carlos’ creativity is able to flourish.

His body feels as if it’s buzzing while he works. It’s all intuitive; he doesn’t overthink. He doesn’t have to think at all. In the silence of the apartment, he loses himself in his painting, snapshots of TK playing like a montage and motivating him further.

The canvas becomes awash with vibrant colors, bursting like a kaleidoscope. It’s all here, his initial hesitancy and frustration when he first met TK. It bleeds into a different kind of hesitancy and frustration, a guarded urge to protect himself. That gives way to a small crack in the foundation where light comes in and fills every inch of space that remains.

He loses track of time and himself as he pours out everything he’s been feeling onto the canvas.

“Carlos, it’s 3am.”

He startles and turns then to find TK leaning against the wall in his boxers and sweatshirt, his eyes squinted slightly at the light.

“What are you doing up?” Carlos asks, surprised to see him.

TK smiles a bit. “I rolled over and you weren’t there. I had to investigate.”

Carlos laughs quietly.

“Mystery solved; not abducted by aliens. I’ll join you again soon. I’m just finishing up here.”

TK pushes off from the wall and comes closer to Carlos. He settles on the ground beside him, their bare knees touching. Carlos looks away from the canvas to TK’s face and watches his eyes scan the surface. TK lets out a soft breath and blinks twice as he speaks.

“I think I get it now.”

TK turns suddenly. “You really do have a gift, you know.”

Carlos feels his face heat up a bit at the compliment.

“Thanks. It just came to me. I couldn’t wait until morning to start. I think this is it. The final piece my portfolio needed.”

TK beams at him and strokes his cheek lightly.

“I think you’re right. I knew you could do it. It was always right inside here,” he says, tapping Carlos’ temple.

Carlos bites back on his lower lip.

“Maybe so, but you kinda broke it free. I’m not so sure it would have clicked if we didn’t spend so much time together. And after tonight…it all just snapped into place.”

TK looks back at the painting for a moment.

“That’s what I make you feel,” he says. It’s not a question and Carlos knows he doesn’t have to offer an answer. The proof is laid out bare before them.

TK’s smile turns into a full-fledged grin.

“Does this make me your muse then? That’s pretty badass.”

“I guess it does.” Carlos laughs. “You really do inspire me. I clearly can’t deny that,” he continues, gesturing to his latest piece.

TK takes a hold of his hands, not seeming to care one bit as his own become streaked with paint. Carlos laces their fingers and smiles to himself, struck by how much they’ve both been letting each other into their worlds little by little along the way.

This, he realizes, is the beauty in letting go, in being brave enough to let himself fall. Without realizing it, he’s been collecting these pieces of TK and storing them in both his mind and heart.

This relationship they’ve been forging since day one just might be his greatest creation of all.

[storyofmychoices]

The Princess + the Dragon

[Troy Hassan x Astraea Callen Masterlist]

Pairing: Troy Hassan x Astraea Callen (F!MC)

Book: Wake the Dead

Word Count: ~600

Rating : General, no warnings

Prompts: @choicesjuly2023challenge ~fairytale; "You're so cute when you're half asleep and irritable" "I'll show you irritable" requested by @jerzwriter from this list.

Synopsis: Astraea is ready to start the day, but Troy just wants to sleep.

The soft hues of blue began to lighten the sky as the golden glow of the sun began to peak over the horizon, painting the sky with its watercolor rays. Astraea gently stirred from her slumber. She blinked her eyes open and admired the quiet morning waiting to dawn. 

Eager to seize the day and start on the next adventure that awaited them, Astraea rolled to face Troy but found him still buried under the cozy comforter, deep in sleep. Her fingers threaded softly through his black hair, brushing it off his forehead. 

"Good morning," she offered, her voice soft and melodic, pulling him from his dreamy state. She pressed a kiss on his forehead. 

His eyes fluttered open a moment and closed again. "Just a few more minutes." He pulled the blanket more snuggly around his head. 

"Come on, sleepy head!" Astraea drew back the blanket from him, exposing his bare skin to the cool morning air. "It's time to rise and shine."

Troy let out a low groan, feigning a shiver. He buried his face deeper into his pillow. "Can't we have a few more minutes of beauty sleep? How else do you expect me to maintain this flawless complexion!"

A mischievous twinkle sparkled in her eyes. "Of course, princess! We wouldn't want to jeopardize that gorgeous complexion of yours. After all, beauty sleep is a sacred ritual for a majestic beauty like yourself. Shall I roll out the red carpet too?"

"That would be nice, thank you," he muttered, pulling the blanket back up. "You finally understand!"

Astraea shook her head in amusement and chuckled in reply. A sly grin spread on her face. "I think I do understand." She kissed his forehead once more and turned to get out of bed.

Troy relaxed back into their mattress, waiting for sleep to once again overtake him as he listened to Astraea move about the room. 

Without warning, Astraea hopped back onto the bed, showering him in kisses. "You're so adorable when you're half asleep and irritable."

Troy smirked, his eyes opening, knowing his slumber was over. "Oh, really? Well, if you insist, I'll show you irritable."

Troy threw the covers over his head with a theatrical flourish. He growled, pretending to be a grumpy dragon. His arms shot out toward Astraea, trying to capture her in his grasp.

Astraea burst into laughter, giving in to his monster's attack. "Oh, no! I'm being attacked. If only I had one of my weapons."

"You're mine, now." Troy snickered as he held her down. "Who's the helpless princess now?"

"Still you, babe!" She rolled away quickly, her fingers slipping under the blanket, finding just the right spot to tame her dragon and return him to his former princess state. 

"Stop!" Troy's body jerked away.

"Gotcha!" Astraea pounced on him, tickling him relentlessly as he laughed and squirmed beneath her until he wiggled his way out of the blankets. 

"Alright, alright!" He breathed between bursts of laughter. "I concede. You win!" 

She gazed down at him, completely at his mercy. "That's what I thought."

"Just this once, though!" He insisted while trying to catch his breath.

"Keep telling yourself that, princess." She lifted his arms above his head, pinning them down as she kissed him, silencing any reply he might have. "I'll always win."

The sun's light began to seep into the window, illuminating her from behind. He smiled into her next kiss, letting her take control. As far as he was concerned, this was still a win for him. 

Thank you for the request @jerzwriter! I absolutely missed these two as well and would not have discovered this fic without your request. 💖

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed my chaotic WtD pairing. They're so much fun to write.

[simplepoettheia]

My Translator Chapter 2

'It's only your first week...it'll get better...just keep your head up, little dove.'

Sparing a singular glance towards the grandfather clock to her right, (Y/N) can only let out a sigh. It's barely 2 hours into her shift at the ministry.

Within those two long hours, she witnessed the previous Papa lose two scrolls that were older than the current building they are in, and she's seen the current Papa bring in two new girls both of them not yet leaving.

The soft suffering of papers can be heard as she begins to sort through a new patch of old writings.

"Excuse me" A familiar male voice speaks from above the girl, it's Copia. 

Seemingly the only normal one in her new office, he's not even in his normal outfit for the day.

Sporting a pair of red slacks with black suspenders with a black button-up, his messy cardinal paints cover his face.

"What can I do for you Copia?" (Y/N) replies to the man as their eyes meet, a small smile forming on her lips.

Copia pulls a small stack of papers from behind his back, they look even older than the ones on her desk.

"Sister discovered these this morning in her room, she believes you may know what book they belong to" his voice seems nervous around her.

Taking the papers from the man, she begins to scan them with her eyes before looking up at the man.

"Well?" His voice begins before another voice chimes in, as (Y/N) takes a deep breath. 

"I know what these belong to, the book of prophecy. You know the one all of your church members read from during mass?" She begins while moving past Copia and her desk, weaving her nimble body through the various other desks and stacking off books.

"That book isn't missing any pages, as far as I'm aware" Copia begins while following after the woman, barely able to keep up with her as she seemingly dances around the thousands of books.

"Where is it" She mutters to herself, ignoring the chattering cardinal behind her.

Weaving through another stack of books, (Y/N) lets out a loud sigh, her head finally popping up from the books.

"Where is Terzo? He had the books last," she asked the cardinal, said the man proceeding to shrug at her question.

"His room? His Office? I don't know (Y/ N)." Copia begins as a sigh escapes her mouth.

"You go check his room? I can go check his office" She kindly asks him while watching Copia stare at her as if she told him to go to hell.

The cardinal blinked for a few seconds before nodding and leaving to go check the current Papa's room.

Bracing herself for the worse and taking a deep breath, (Y/N) begins the short walk through the main office to Terzo's office.

Muffled noises could be heard from behind the door, hesitating for only a moment before knocking softly at the old oak door.

"Terzo, are you here?" as the words leave her lips, curses could be heard from behind the door from a pair of feminine voices as the man of the hours' voice chimes in.

"Come in, Cara!" His voice had wavered for a slight second as (Y/N) braced herself mentally for what she would see when she opened the door.

The door opened with a creak as she stepped inside, Terzo was fixing his belt with his off-white button-up laying discarded on his desk chair. 

Two of the nuns of the church scurried out of the room behind her, she spared them a chasted glance as Terzo walks up to her.

"What do I owe the pleasure of seeing you so early this morning?" His voice is soft as silk, if she hadn't been working under him she may have thought his tone and voice were hot.

"I'm looking for your mass book, We found the missing pages and I need to make sure these are the correct pages" (Y/N) explains as she moves away from the man, tossing his shirt to him as she begins to look through the dozens of bookshelves that settle up the wall behind his desk.

Climbing up the ladder leading to the main scriptures, scanning through the books as two catch her eye. 

The book she's been looking for, and another the title is completely in Latin compared to the others around it which are in a mix of English, Latin, and Italian.

"Terzo?" She calls down to him while pulling the book out.

Said man walks over to the ladder she is standing on, looking up at her with one brown raised as if to silently ask what she needs.

"Catch" is all she says as she drops the book to him along with the book she originally come for, they fall quickly as Terzo catches them in his gloved hands, glancing through them.

"A prophecy book and A book about Ghouls...Odd choices in liturature but who am I to judge" He says with a hint of a chuckle in his voice while skimming through the book on Ghouls.

(Y/N) makes her way down to the floor, adjusting her outfit once more before taking the books from the man.

"Thank you and The reason I grabbed the book about Ghouls was that it caught my eye, you won't mind if I borrow this to translate, correct?"

She doesn't leave time for him to reply, moving past him and quickly out the door. Terzo is hot on her heels wanting more answers and possibly just to see how this will go down.

Arriving back at her desk, gently placing the old books down she begins placing the missing pages into place along with copying down an English version of the current prophecy book.

As she finishes her task, the ghoul book catches her eye, grabbing the book and opening it, and her eyes scan through it.

It's mostly on ghouls' heat, how to summon them, and generally anything to do with keeping a ghoul alive. 

But the last few chapters focus on how Ghouls find love, or how they find their mates to be exact, Terzo whos' been looming over her shoulder looking at the pages with her.

"None of the ghouls here have ever spoken to me or the past papa's about mating." He begins while reading over the page again, as the pair both begin to speak lowly to each other about what that may mean.

Two heavy sets of footfalls could be heard coming towards the main office, it sounds almost as if both of them are running towards the office.

As if on cue two of Terzo's ghouls slam open the door, a tall thin one and a much shorter one.

"Ah, Moutain, Rain! What is the matter?" Terzo asks them while looking them over, both the ghouls are out of breath and panting harshly as Rain takes a deep breath.

"It's Omega" that's all that has to leave Rain's mouth as Terzo takes off running towards the ghoul den, Rain quickly moving to follow him.

(Y/N) stares at the two men that just left as Mountain walk up to her.

"You need to come too" His voice is deep but soft "I'll show you the way" he continues while leading her down to the ghouls' den.

With a sparing glance at the clock, a sigh escapes her lips.

"This is going to be a long day" She mutters quietly.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thank you so much for all the love and support! If you wish to be tagged in the next part just let me know! 

Taglist! 

@alastorhazbin

[hannahssimblr]

Chapter Two

On the first freezing day of Autumn, I zip my coat all the way up to the top and shiver as I exit the apartment building, a huge, converted Georgian house that opens onto Fitzwilliam Square. My hands are stiff as I try to wrangle my bicycle loose from the iron railings out front, my condensed breath floating over my face to warm up my nose and cheeks. I swear under my breath as the key gets stuck, again, and then stand there jangling it madly for a minute before it releases and the heavy chain pools onto the concrete at my feet. 

I’ve learned quickly that the trick to owning a bicycle in Dublin city is to get the cheapest bike you can find and then make it look even cheaper. Shane and I spent an evening destroying it in the bin yard a couple of weeks ago, stamping the pedals until pieces broke off, using spray paint in lurid colours to obscure the brand name and shiny red coat on the metal work. We wound duct tape around the saddle and the handlebars, which doubled as an anti-theft method, happily enough. It was a cathartic experience. Claire had come along with a sticker book and helpfully dotted the body with flowers and hearts and rainbows too, insisting that all thieves are men, and none of them will want a girl’s bike. I then went to the nearest bike shop and bought two locks, the most hard wearing and expensive ones they had, because nobody is going to pick two massive locks for the pathetic reward of a dinged up bicycle covered in stickers. 

“It’s a rite of passage to have a bike stolen in the first month.” Shane had said with some sympathy after I cried at the college gates having discovered my brand new bike gone, only an easily sawed through lock pathetically coiled around the stand left as any evidence that it existed. “Sure, bits off my bike get robbed all the time. I had to cycle home from town without a saddle the other week. We’ll get you another one, I know a guy who deals them out of his ma’s garage.”

“Isn’t that kind of like contributing to the negative cycle?” I whimpered. “I bet all those bikes are stolen too.”

“Yeah probably, but, ah, sure. They’re only sixty quid.” 

That’s how I ended up with this ‘new’ bike, and luckily, nobody has stolen its saddle yet. We made sure that it’d be so inconvenient that even the most hard-up, desperate thief wouldn’t come near any part of it, but as a payoff it’s so uncomfortable. It squeaks, the back brake doesn’t work and sometimes when I go too fast I feel as though I’m going to slide off it and bash my most private areas onto the crossbar, but it gets me where I need to go. In the cold, early morning in the mist and smell of turf I throw my leg over it and manoeuvre it out onto the road, my bag and drawing tube strapped across me, and zip up towards Baggot Street, then skirt around Stephen’s Green, the new, cold wind throwing icy daggers at my face as I weave in and out of traffic, eluding busses and taxis and pedestrians who keep crossing the road before it’s their turn. Rust coloured leaves drop onto the pavement before my wheels as I pass the flats along Kevin Street, children in tiny uniforms walking to school hand in hand with their parents. 

“Use your arms!” A taxi driver screams at me as I swerve to the right ahead of him, and I ignore him, already used to men screaming at me on these streets, whether it’s because they think I’m cycling them wrong or because they have an opinion about my body that they’d like to share. 

Dublin isn’t awful, but it’s harsh in ways I’m still unused to. When I visited it I saw it as more beautiful than it really is, but back then I only saw the shops, the parks, the huge Georgian houses, and now I see the back alleys too and the places that don’t feel all that wonderful. I’ve seen the yellow pallor of the people at the back of the bus, the men in alleyways who dare you to look in and see them so they can shout at you for doing it, women climbing into sleeping bags in the sheltered doorways of department stores for the night, battered paper cups set out hopefully in front of them as they curl up to sleep on the cold pavement. 

I get shouted at a lot here too. By bus drivers, for not knowing how to use my Leap card properly, and by the people on said busses for standing or sitting in the wrong places, by taxi men for crossing the road at the wrong time, by screechy women in windows for throwing my chewing gum in the wrong bins. I apologise a lot more than I ever have now, which is really saying something. 

I swerve down a bumpy, cobblestone side street and through the gates of NCAD, taking the time to chain my bike onto the same rack where its predecessor was nicked from, giving the locks a hard, intentional look as if I could intimidate them into staying put. Then I hurry inside and up the stairs, the central heating blasting over me so intensely that by the time I stumble into the studio I feel like a piece of ham wrapped in cling film. I drop my bag and drawing tube onto the floorboards by one of the drawing tables and start ripping my outerwear off in a frenzy. 

Prev // Next

[suzitaree]

Supernatural investigation. (S. Sallow x reader)

Sebastian Sallow had always been drawn to the supernatural. His parents were both teachers, and he had grown up accompanying them in their ever telling stories. As he got older, Sebastian began to study the occult on his own, and he became interested in everything from demonology to cryptozoology.

One day, Sebastian heard rumors of a haunted mansion in a remote town. He couldn't resist the challenge and decided to investigate the rumors. He reached out to Y/N, a fellow student from Hogwarts, who recently joined as a 5th year and his trusted friend, to join him on the adventure.

When they arrived at the mansion, they found it to be old, decrepit, and eerily silent. Y/N was nervous, but Sebastian's confidence and expertise put her at ease.

As they made their way through the twisting hallways, their flashlights illuminating the dust and cobwebs that covered everything, they felt a strange presence watching them. But they brushed it off as their imagination and continued exploring.

As they entered a room filled with old furniture and faded paintings, they heard a whispering voice coming from the shadows.

"Who are you?" the voice asked.

Sebastian took a deep breath and replied, "I'm Sebastian and this is my friend Y/N. We've come to investigate this haunted mansion."

The voice chuckled. "Very well. But do you both understand the risks of meddling with the supernatural?"

Sebastian and Y/N exchanged a glance before Sebastian replied, "We know the risks, but we're willing to take them. We need to know if what we've heard about this place is true." Sebastian glanced over at Y/N thinking about all the previous adventures they had and knew they were up for it.

The voice was silent for a moment before replying, "Very well. But know this: once you enter this mansion, there is no going back. You may never leave."

Sebastian and Y/N steeled themselves and pressed on, exploring every inch of the mansion, uncovering ancient artifacts and mysterious symbols that they had only read about in books. And in the end, they discovered the truth behind the mansion's haunting: a powerful demon had taken up residence there, feeding off the fear and suffering of anyone foolish enough to enter.

Sebastian and Y/N knew they had to act fast. They gathered all the knowledge they had gained and prepared to confront the demon. With a mix of bravery and desperation, they performed a ritual that banished the demon from the mansion forever.

As they exited the haunted mansion, Sebastian and Y/N were both relieved and exhilarated by their successful banishment of the demon. The adrenaline rush of their adventure had brought them closer than ever before, and they couldn't help but feel a spark of attraction between them.

As they walked through the forbidden forest towards Hogwarts, Y/N couldn't resist asking Sebastian, "Do you ever feel like this is all we have? The adventures, I mean. It's like we're always chasing something that can't be explained."

Sebastian paused for a moment before replying, "Maybe. But for me, it's worth it. There's a thrill in the unknown, in discovering the secrets of the universe."

Y/N smiled at Sebastian's passion, and they both fell into a comfortable silence as they walked. It wasn't until they were in the grand hall, ready to go to their common room, that Sebastian finally spoke again.

"Y/N, I have to tell you something. I've always admired you, ever since we first went to the forbidden part in the library together. You're brave, smart, and .."

Y/N's heart fluttered at Sebastian's words. She had always felt an attraction to him as well, but had never acted on it. Before he could finish his sentence she said: "I feel the same way about you, Sebastian," Y/N said, looking into his dark brown eyes.

Sebastian leaned in slowly, and they shared a gentle kiss. As they pulled away, they both knew that their friendship had changed forever.

[beewolfwrites]

Olive Branch: Chapter Eight - Family

(Itasaku, Successful Coup AU) You can find the previous chapters on my masterlist at the top of my account page.

I have another chapter here. I'm trying to be better with updates :)

I hope you enjoy it <3

________________________________

Leaving Sakura wrapped up in bedsheets and sleeping soundly, Itachi wandered through her apartment. Out of courtesy, he switched off the lamps in the living room and straightened the cushions on her couch. It was surreal that one day, he would marry this woman. All he knew of her was what his baby brother had told him. But within the last week, he felt that Sakura had become less of an acquaintance and more of… what?

A friend? Not quite. She is something different entirely.

He couldn't place it. His budding relationship with Sakura was unlike his relationships with Shisui or Izumi. It couldn't be put into words because it was ever changing. One minute she was merely an acquaintance, and the next, she had stepped into his memories.

He had never imagined marrying anybody other than Izumi, even though he knew that marriage was expected of him. Although he had initially approached Sakura with business in mind rather than pleasure, standing in her apartment, he found himself wanting to learn more about this woman.

For the most part, her apartment was neglected. Dishes had been left in the sink and the surfaces needed dusting. A lot of dusting. Itachi picked up a framed photograph and wiped away the layer of dust coating the glass. It was a picture of a woman with brown hair twisted into a tight bun. She was cradling a young girl on her knee, and they were both dressed in traditional kimono. Itachi recognised Sakura instantly by her hair and large green eyes. The woman, however, looked very different. 

Her mother? 

It was unusual that such treasured photographs were covered in dust. But judging by the meticulously placed ornaments and the tidy stack of books on the coffee table, Sakura was not a messy person by nature. The state of her home could be explained by her lack of free time. Sasuke had often complained that Sakura was being worked into the ground.

Itachi understood this well; his own surroundings suffered whenever he was away on missions. It wasn't unusual for him to return home to find a thin coat of dust over his bed. However, it was extremely unlikely that Sakura had been on a mission recently. After her tutelage with Tsunade was discovered, Sakura’s missions were capped. The only missions she received now were usually medical in nature, and should she leave the village, she would be accompanied by a trusted member of Anbu. Even in these cases, Sakura's missions were usually of little import. His father didn't trust her with anything high-ranking.

It's a shame that her abilities have not been put to better use.

As Itachi silently explored her home, he wondered how much it truly bothered her. He had yet to see her complain about being tied to the village, but she probably hid her frustration from her friends. They were already frustrated enough about the situation. In fact, Itachi distinctly remembered one evening in which Sasuke returned home fuming and had refused to eat with their father present. As far as Itachi recalled, Sasuke had not spoken to Fugaku for the two months following, and the tension between the two sparked all sorts of rumours within the Uchiha clan.

Foolish little brother… Father is too far gone to see sense. 

Itachi thought he'd seen every room in Sakura’s apartment when he noticed a door in the corner of the living room. It was hidden in the shadows, and at first, he assumed that it was merely a cupboard. The door was no taller than four feet, and both the door and handle was painted white to blend into the wall. It was only when he picked up on the sharp scent of incense that he decided to investigate.

He had an inkling of what was behind the door, and he knew he should walk away out of respect for Sakura's privacy. But some strange part of him felt that she owed him a glimpse into her own past. She had borne witness to some of his most personal memories, and was it so selfish that she should return the favour? 

He took the handle and opened it.

His suspicions were correct, and he felt a weight tug at his chest.

The shrine was small but well decorated. Half-melted candles were arranged around two photographs. The resemblance Sakura shared with each was incredible — her mother's eyes and mouth, and her father's nose and cheekbones. The two pictures were copies of the regulatory photographs that all villagers are requested to have taken as part of their official paperwork. Itachi had a distinctly uncomfortable feeling that any other photographs had been destroyed in the coup. That could only mean… 

That other woman, she must be an aunt. 

In front of the photographs, Sakura had set up an assortment of objects, including a single wedding ring, a piece of a broken teacup, a hairbrush entangled with blonde hair, and a charred notebook.

At this point, Itachi knew that he had overstepped a boundary. He closed the cupboard door, and without a backward glance, left through the open window.

______________________________________

‘What do you mean my shift is covered?’

Sakura was barely lucid, clutching the phone with one hand as she pulled on her vest with the other. After sleeping through her alarm — and waking up with a splitting headache half an hour later than usual — she had called the hospital in a panic to explain that she would be running late. However, it looked as though she needn’t have bothered. There was a rustle on the other line as Tajima Ikue, the hospital receptionist, filtered through sheets of paper.

‘We received a message this morning stating that Haruno-Sensei is to have today off,’ Ikue replied smoothly. ‘I don't know the specifics of who sent the order, but I’m looking at the rota right now and Hiroshi-sensei is covering your shift instead.’

Sakura had an inkling as to who had organised this, and she made a mental note to treat him to some premium dango as a thank you gift. 

‘I see. Thanks for letting me know, Ikue-san,’ Sakura said.

‘You're welcome,’ Ikue replied, ‘I'll see you tomorrow, Haruno-sensei.’

Putting the phone down, Sakura crawled back into her bed with relief. She rubbed at her temple, idly sending chakra to soothe her headache. Itachi’s Tsukuyomi had taken its toll on her. If Sakura hadn't been a medic, the after effects would probably have been far worse. And yet, she felt as though she were suspended underwater. The pain above her temple had been reduced to a dull throb, and her joints and muscles were weak and sore.

But this wasn't going to stop her from making the best of her time off. Yes, Itachi had given her this day to rest. However, it was because of her work that she barely had time to spend with her teammates. There was no need to spar or train with them; she was just happy to enjoy their company for a while. 

And so, later that morning, Sakura left her apartment and located the familiar warmth of Kakashi's chakra. She found him on the very bridge that had served as their meeting spot as genin. His nose was buried in a copy of Make out Tactics, and he showed no acknowledgement of her presence.

‘Well this is surprising,’ he said at last, glancing her way as she leant against the railings beside him. ‘Aren't you usually at the hospital by now?’

‘Not today,’ she grinned. ‘I've been given a day off.’

His eye crinkled. ‘I'm glad. You're always overworked. A breather will be good for you.’ With one glance at her clothes, he added, ‘I'm guessing you're not here to train.’

‘I'm kind of supposed to be resting today.’

‘Oh? What happened this time?’

She laughed nervously. ‘Just overuse of chakra again,’ she lied. ‘You know me.’

Kakashi hummed in mock disapproval, although Sakura could sense the genuine concern under his facade. ‘What use is a medic who collapses from exhaustion?’

She brushed him off with a gentle smile. ‘You worry about me too much Kakashi-sensei. I can handle myself.’

‘I'm sure you can Sakura, but that doesn't change the fact that—‘ He paused, then sighed. ‘Naruto and Sasuke have sensed your chakra. They'll be here soon.’

Within less than a minute, Naruto and Sasuke appeared in the distance. Sakura almost giggled at the sight of them strolling casually, as though she hadn't sensed their chakra signatures racing through the village only seconds prior.

‘Sakura-chan!’ Naruto waved.

Sasuke followed close behind, smiling faintly in amusement.

‘Shocked to see me?’ she teased.

Naruto sheepishly scratched the back of his head. ‘Sort of. When I saw you with Kakashi-sensei just now, I thought you were a ghost.’

Sakura lightly slapped him across the head, causing Sasuke to smirk. ‘You saw me a couple of days ago. We even ate ramen together. How could you forget?’

‘You know what the idiot's like,’ Sasuke said. ‘He can't even remember what he had for breakfast this morning.’

‘Oi!’ Naruto shook his fist. ‘You bet your ass I can remember. It was cup ramen, curry flavour too!’

Sakura wrinkled her nose. ‘Ramen for breakfast?’

‘Yep, you should try it some time Sakura-chan. It tastes way better in the morning.’

Sasuke shrugged, nonchalant.  ‘I don't know why you're so surprised, Sakura.’ 

He's not wrong. What else did I expect?

‘I know, I shouldn't be so surprised.’ She turned to Naruto. ‘You realise you're a walking heart-attack waiting to happen, right? You’ll be the first ninja to die from excess sodium.’

Naruto opened his mouth to protest, however the moment was lost as Kakashi tucked his book back into his pouch and clapped his hands. 

‘Well then,’ Kakashi said, smiling beneath his mask. ‘It's great to have the entire team here, especially since I know how hard it is for you to get away from the hospital, Sakura. Obviously, since you mentioned that you're supposed to be resting, you won't be training with us today—‘

‘Hold on,’ Naruto cut in. ‘How come Sakura-chan is resting?’ 

His large blue eyes were fixated on her with worry, whereas Sasuke eyed her knowingly.

‘You've exhausted your chakra again.’

She sighed deeply. Heaven knows she hated lying to her teammates. ‘Kind of. That's why I've been given the day off. I have to rest up before going back to work tomorrow.’

Naruto sulked, pouting like a toddler. ‘It's not fair. What do you even do that takes so much time anyway?’

Sakura wished she was better at lying. A moment’s hesitation could easily give her away. Her work creating antidotes to airborne poisons was confidential, and no matter how much she trusted her team with all her heart, she was under a strict oath not to speak about her current projects. If word escaped that Konoha had developed antidotes to suspected airborne poisons, enemy villages would keep adapting their poisons, rendering Sakura's hard work useless.

And so, unable to speak the truth, Sakura settled for a slightly curved version of it. 

‘I heal people,’ she said. ‘You know that already, Naruto. What else do medics do?’

Although Naruto seemed to be placated with her answer, she was painfully aware that Kakashi was eyeing her stonily. Perhaps he knew what her work truly entailed. Even if he did, he would never talk about it. That was just the kind of man Kakashi was.

‘If that's the case,’ Naruto exclaimed, ‘then when I become Hokage, you'll never have to work this hard again Sakura-chan. At least not enough to drain your chakra.’

At this, Sakura's heart sank. Despite her agreement with Itachi, she knew that it would be a long time before Naruto would even be considered a viable candidate for the title. There were just too many hurdles. The biggest being that the political wrongs of the village needed to be set right.

‘Hn. The Hokage title is reserved for the Uchiha, Idiot.’

And just like that, the air seemed thinner. 

Sakura bit her tongue to keep from saying anything. Sasuke was surprisingly unlike the rest of his clan; he was unaffected by the Curse of Hatred that was rumoured to run in his family. But there would always be a bridge that Sasuke failed to cross regarding the brutal reality of his clan. 

Sakura recalled Itachi's memories vividly. The Uchiha children had taken shelter beneath the Naka Shrine, blind and deaf to the chaos above. It hadn't taken much effort to convince a group of children that their clan was superior to others. Sasuke had never stumbled across the charred remains of bodies. He had never ran barefoot through the streets as buildings burned around him. He had never experienced the horrors that stripped Naruto of his independence, Kakashi of his Sharingan, and Sakura of her parents. 

She was grateful when Kakashi swiftly began the morning training. Whilst his expression was concealed behind his mask, Sakura knew that he had also felt the unmistakable tension in the air.

________________________________________

Itachi knocked on the door to his father's office, however it wasn’t truly necessary. Fugaku recognised his son's chakra signature instantly.

‘Come in, Itachi.’

Itachi stepped inside and bowed stiffly. His father did not look up. ’You requested my presence.’

‘I did, yes.’ 

Fugaku rooted through his desk drawer before pulling out a mission scroll. He pushed it across the desk, where Itachi took it and lazily surveyed its contents. 

‘An infiltration mission.’

‘There has been an increase in the number of Kiri nin found along the border,’ Fugaku explained. ‘A team of Anbu ran into a group of them recently. They claimed that they were on a mission escorting a client, but we had a sensory-type amongst our squad, and there was no client seen or sensed in the area. I'm sure you’ve already read the reports.’

Itachi nodded. He had read over the details several times, perplexed by the situation. The Kiri nin had simply stated that they were on an escort mission, refusing to speak further. Any finer details were confidential and Konoha Anbu had no right to demand such information from another hidden village.

‘Normally, I would avoid sending you on a mission like this,’ Fugaku continued, folding his arms. ‘You are one of my strongest shinobi, and you are also my son and heir. If the Mizukage is indeed sending agents to potentially infiltrate Konoha, I would prefer to keep my strongest men here, should worst come to worst.’

It did not escape Itachi's notice that in his father's list of importance, Itachi's strength as a ninja took higher priority than their blood relation. But he said nothing on the matter.

‘There are very few people I trust with this mission,’ Fugaku said. ‘The villagers of Kirigakure have been suspicious of strangers for a long time, especially considering their bloody history. In order to complete this mission successfully, I need two ninja with high stealth and the ability to extract information without drawing attention.’

Itachi raised an eyebrow. ‘Surely there are Anbu operatives more suited to the job?’

‘The Anbu are needed here,’ Fugaku insisted. ‘They are to guard the village walls. I have said this already, Itachi.’ His voice lowered to a murmur, and Itachi could no longer be sure whether Fugaku was talking to his son, or to himself. ‘Naturally, Yamanaka Inoichi would be perfect for something like this. His information gathering abilities are some of the finest I've seen. But I want this mission to be carried out by loyal shinobi I can trust.’

There was an unmistakable venom behind those words. Itachi hadn't forgotten the incident many years ago in which the Yamanaka, Nara and Akimichi clans united to strike a rebellion, the result of which had included several further losses, including Yamanaka Inoichi's arm. From that point on, a curfew and lockdown on all inter-clan mingling was ensued as a means of preventing further conspiracy. The trio of clans had made a formidable enemy, and had it not been for an agent collecting information from the inside, the Uchiha clan would have fallen easily.

Information is the most valuable weapon of all.

‘There’s another matter to consider,’ Fugaku said, snapping Itachi out of his thoughts. ‘I would also like your recommendation for a suitable partner on this mission.’

Whilst the mission could technically be achieved by one ninja working solo, two nin working together maximised the volume of information gathered, while still being inconspicuous enough not to rouse attention. From the moment Itachi laid eyes on the mission slip, he knew that this was an opportunity he couldn’t let slide.

‘I have someone in mind,’ he replied. ‘I have reason to believe that Haruno Sakura would be an asset on this mission.’

Fugaku's expression instantly darkened. 

‘As you know,’ Itachi said, ‘her chakra control is flawless. She would be able to conceal her kunoichi background without error. And should the mission fail, the combination of her medical skills and field strength would boost our chances of us both returning in one piece.’

Fugaku looked far from impressed. If anything, his lip curled in disgust. ‘As I said, I want somebody I can trust.’

‘You trust me,’ Itachi interjected. ‘And I can assure you that I’d keep watch over her at all times.’

His father was practically seething at the suggestion of Sakura on such an important mission. But after a moment's thought, Fugaku gave Itachi a reluctant nod.

‘I don't like this, but I trust your judgement, Itachi. Do not let me down.’

With that, Itachi bowed and left the office. As far as he knew, Sakura's last mission had involved gathering medicinal herbs from a rural village at the border between Fire and Wind country. Whilst it would have been a peaceful mission, he suspected that deep down Sakura missed taking on something high-ranked. She was sure to be thrilled about their mission together, and the simple thought of Sakura's excitement left Itachi smiling.

__________________________________________

It hadn’t taken long for a Team Seven training session to turn into an all-out brawl between Sasuke and Naruto over who could punch holes in the most trees. Sakura would have happily put them both in their place, if not for her “chakra exhaustion”, and wisely chose to stay well away from the destruction. 

She had left them bickering over their scores, slipping away from the training grounds without either of them noticing. As much as she wished to stay and kick some sense into her idiotic teammates, Sakura had something else in mind. She wanted to pay Ino a visit. A proper visit this time. She had several hours before curfew, and she knew that the pig would be dying to gossip and chat freely without the clock ticking over their heads.

The two shinobi guarding the gates of the Yamanaka compound were different than last time. In fact, Sakura recognised one of them as Uchiha Tomoharu – a chunin only a couple of years younger than her and innocently swept up in his clan’s powerful grip. She had once saved after a botched mission. His team had carried him into the hospital, his leg slashed in several places and clearly septic. If not for Sakura’s team working on him all through the night, Tomoharu wouldn't have made it. Although Sakura had always made it clear that his teammates were the real heroes, Tomoharu never failed to show his gratitude towards her.

As she approached the gates, Tomoharu flashed her a boyish grin.

‘The gods must be rewarding me,’ he said. ‘It's been a long day and I didn't think I would be lucky enough to run into you, Sakura-sensei.’

She smiled automatically. Tomoharu was just like that; the warmth he radiated as a person made it impossible to place him alongside his relatives. In fact, now that Sakura thought about it, there was something about Tomoharu’s sunny nature that struck her as familiar. 

He’s so much like Shisui…  

Her heart ached at the memory of Shisui’s fate. 

‘Believe me,’ she said, ‘if anyone’s lucky here, it’s me. How have you been Tomoharu-kun?’

‘Sama.’ The other guard's steely voice cut through. He was glaring at Sakura. ‘You may refer to him as “Uchiha-sama” and nothing less.’

Tomoharu shifted uncomfortably, looking at his prickly partner with uncertainty. It was clear that he wanted to stand up for her, but didn’t want to make things worse. Sakura, however, was used to the Uchiha ruining her day. It felt so backwards, being forced to call Tomoharu by a name that he didn’t like. But it was the world they lived in. 

‘I guess we'll have to catch up some other day,’ Tomoharu muttered. This time, his smile was forced.

‘I suppose so,’ she said. ‘Perhaps when you’re not on duty.’

He nodded, and his mannerisms shifted, taking on an air of formality. ‘In that case, you may proceed, Sakura-sensei.’

Sakura bowed and walked through the web of chakra. It was strange watching Tomoharu's personality warp as he embraced his role as a guard. It was also so, so wrong. He was twenty. A chunin. He should have been out, having the time of his life on missions, not stuck on guard duty.

At least he actually reached his twentieth birthday. Shisui and Izumi weren't so lucky.

The thought weighed heavily on her mind as she strolled past rows of houses. Things hadn't changed at all. Whether it was Shisui, Itachi, Izumi, Tomoharu or even herself, children had always been forced to grow up a little too fast.

Don't think about it. It's your day off.

The voice in the back of her mind was right. This day was a gift. Dwelling on the cruel realities of life would only bring her sadness. 

She ploughed on through the Yamanaka district until she came to Ino's door. Unfortunately, it was Ino's mother who answered, inspecting Sakura shrewdly before explaining that Ino was out training. Sakura thanked her, and hoping not to drag out the tension any further, headed in the direction of the Yamanaka training fields. 

There was something about the training fields that soothed Sakura. While the main area had been cleared of any wilderness for ease, the grounds themselves were situated in a large meadow. Around the perimeter, the grass was sweet with wildflowers — flowers that many years ago, Sakura and Ino had strung together to make necklaces and fairy crowns.

‘Pig!’ Sakura called. Shin-deep in wavy grass and buttercups, she peered through the foliage. ‘It's me! I heard you were out here!’

Somewhere in the trees there was a snap of twigs, and Seconds later, a purple blur hopped down from a branch. Ino looked exhausted, her hair sticking to her face and her clothes brushed with soil. 

‘Hey Forehead.’ Ino predictably cornered her in a tight hug. ‘It’s funny, I was just thinking of taking a breather.’

The two sat down against the trunk of a large oak. Ino sipped at a water bottle and with one wrist, wiped the sweat from her forehead. Sakura closed her eyes and leant her head back against the bark. The afternoon sun warmed the exposed skin of her arms and legs, and Sakura could have easily fallen asleep right then and there.

‘So Itachi, huh?’

Oh no…

Sakura tensed, cracking her eyes open just enough to see Ino's sneaky smile. 

‘What about him?’ She asked, trying to brush off her nerves. ‘You know you can’t just go around calling him by his first name, what if somebody heard you? Plus, it’s rude.’

Ino hissed, and flicked Sakura’s upper arm. ’Don't play dumb with me, Forehead. I saw you together.’

’You saw us?’

‘Of course I did. You were out eating dango with that fine hunk of man meat.’

Sakura's stomach churned. The last time they spoke, she hadn’t mentioned anything about Itachi that could give his identity away. Likewise, Ino wasn’t as stupid as she sometimes acted. She could put two and two together. But more importantly, had she overheard their conversation at the dango shop? How much did she know?

There’s no way I can get Ino involved in this, Sakura thought, trying not to grimace.

‘So Forehead,’ Ino said. ‘Care to explain what you were doing dining out with the Hokage's right-hand man?’

Sakura could only hope that Ino would drop the subject. Who was she kidding? Of course Ino wouldn’t drop it. 

‘It was nothing. He was asking about a project I'm working on at the moment, you know, at the hospital.’

‘Yeah, sure he was,’ Ino snorted. ‘Don't lie to me, Sakura. I know you. Other people probably can't tell, but whenever you're talking about work you go all rigid and professional… kind of like a cardboard cut-out. Anyway, I know you weren't talking about work. You were way too relaxed for that.’

‘It really was nothing, Ino.’

‘Sakura I told you not to lie to me.’ Ino sat up on her knees, facing Sakura fully until it became impossible to ignore her. Her voice was barely above a whisper. ‘Last time, you said someone was asking you to choose between yourself and the greater good or whatever it was.’ 

Sakura opened her mouth to tell her that back then she had been speaking hypothetically, but Ino raised a finger to cut her off. 

‘Sakura, tell me straight. Is Uchiha Itachi blackmailing you or something?’

‘What? No!’

‘Then why the hell is he asking you such weird stuff about the greater good? Be honest with me. I don’t trust him, he’s one of them.’

Sakura's heart fluttered nervously. She was aching to confide in somebody; all of these secrets about Konoha’s past left her feeling like an unexploded mine. But she couldn't drag Ino into this. It was far too political. The fewer people knew about Itachi's plan to usurp his father right from under his feet, the better.

‘I… I can’t, Ino-pig,’ she answered. ‘I just can't risk it.’ 

I can’t risk anything happening to you. 

Sakura thought Ino would be mad, irritated that Sakura could harbour so many unshed secrets. But much to Sakura's relief, her best friend just gave her a weary smile.

‘Sure, Forehead. I understand. But whatever you've gotten yourself into, if it becomes too much to deal with, you can always let me in.’

Ino… Thank you. 

At times like these, Ino was the sister Sakura never had. It wasn't that she didn't trust Ino. But rather, she felt that if she spoke about it out loud – without Itachi's reassuring presence – the information would somehow be leaked and he would lose his advantage against his father. If word got out that Itachi was working against his clan, he would be stripped of all power, no longer in line for the position of Hokage.

The butterflies in Sakura's chest had begun to ebb away, and with a tired smile, she slid down the tree trunk and rested her head against her best friend’s shoulder. 

‘What would I do without you, Ino?’

‘Oh, you’d be hopeless without me, obviously,’ Ino scoffed. ‘But if that damn Uchiha causes any problems, just let me know and I'll pulverise him. It doesn’t matter how attractive he is.’

Sakura laughed dryly. ’That’s Sasuke-kun’s brother, you know. Stop making things weird.’

‘You can’t deny it. Even if he’s the enemy, he’s got the face of Adonis.’ Ino paused, humming pleasantly. ‘Not to mention that beautiful body.’

Sakura elbowed her in the ribs. ‘Stop! I don’t want to think about him that way.’

‘Too late, you’re already thinking about him.’ 

‘Shut up, Pig!’ 

There was still time before curfew, so for now, she could enjoy the quiet of the meadow. The sweetness of flowers lingered in the air, and above the canopy, swallows flocked in lines. With her head resting against Ino’s shoulder, the two simply enjoying the silence of the other’s company, Sakura realised that her headache had finally subsided. But more than that, she finally understood why she wished to stand by Itachi’s side. 

I want to fight for this moment right here. I want to fight for my family. 

[setewbro]

Hi!! 8, 10, 18, 28, 60, 73, 88, 107, 112, 12, 133 for the book asks? That was a lot so feel free to skip any one that you don't wanna answer!

Hiiii! Thank you for so many, it's infodumping time hehehe

8: A book you finished in one sitting

The Metamorphosis by Franz Kafka

This is not a very long book and I listened to the audiobook. I like it very much! I've also listened to the french audiobook as well and it's good to practice the vocabulary of family members and different rooms of a home.

10: A book that got you through something

The Poppy War by R. F. Kuang

The Poppy War helped me during the pandemic in 2020! I had to make some pastel paintings for art school, and I listened to the audiobook while I worked.

18: Your least favorite book ever

Os Maias by Eça de Queirós

I had to read the portuguese classic about incest with long descriptions of rooms for school and it was not FUN. I won't discuss about it's merit as a classic or whatever but it doesn't change the fact that I did not have a good time. At some point I listened to the auto-generated robotic audiobook at 2x because I needed to finish the huge book in time for the test and it was a terrible experience.

28: A book you wish you could read as a beginner again

Tiān Guān Cì Fú by MXTX

Reading this novel was an experience. I wish I could read the plot twists again because WOW there are a couple of twists in this book and they were all well done in my opinion.

60: A book that you think about at 3am

Verdade Tropical by Caetano Veloso

So here's the thing, I don't think about books at 3 am because that's when I'm sleeping. BUT, last week I dreamed about Caetano Veloso, he was visiting me because I was his fan or something, but I was very annoyed and wanted him to go away. We tried to write a song together but we had different composing styles and at the end he set fire to the paper.

73: A good book with an awful cover

Uniquely Human by Dr Barry

I'm not a fan of book covers with photographs in general.

88: A book that made you angry

Asperger's Children : The Origins of Autism in Nazi Vienna by Edith Sheffer

It made me angry at all the collaborators and perpetrators of the horrible crimes described in this book. Not a light read but I reccomend it.

107: Your favourite book in a different language

Anna Karenina by Leo Tolstoy

Didn't know exactly what this meant, so I decided to bring a book that isn't in Portuguese or English originally. I liked Anna Karenina a lot, It was interesting to read. It's probably not my favorite book, but maybe my favorite Russian book so far.

112: A book about war

The Communist Manifesto by Karl Marx and Friedrich Engels

The class war.

12: A book that mentions food in the title

Before the Coffee Gets Cold by Toshikazu Kawaguchi

I enjoyed this book a lot! The stories are all interesting and they explored the premise in ways that left me very satisfied by the end of the book.

133: A book that you came across randomly and fell in love with

Punished by Rewards by Alfie Kohn

Nothing is ever that random but I only saw this mentioned once before picking it up and it was a huge discover for me. I like this author in general.

WOW OK I DID ALL OF THE NUMBERS BRASIL CAMPEÃO PENTA!!!

[mockingbirdshymn]

way too many camp camp headcanons? why not

part six: dolph

he will never grow a mustache. bows thank you thank you everyone

he has a dog, as mentioned in Part 5!! a german shepherd named frieda, who he's had since he was about six. i hc him to be nine, so the dog is about three and a half or so years old.

dolph's parents are divorced. his father met his mother, who was born and raised in germany, while he stayed in germany on an army base due to his position in the military. they met, fell in love, and had dolph. i like to think his name was a joke the two had while dolph's mother was pregnant, but they blanked when he was actually born and went with it. dolph's parents divorced when he was eight, and he moved back to america with his father. he grew up in germany on the army base and picked up the accent, and because he visited his various german relatives, he can also fluently speak the language. his mother's side of the family is big on candy making, and he made candies with his uncle and grandmother when he still lived in germany. after the divorce, when he moved back to the US, he misses them a lot.

dolph has autism, because it's stated in S4's "cameron campbell can't handle the truth serum" or whatever its called, and i also like to project onto him

dolph will grow up to get accepted into an art school. he won't become famous or anything, or even well-known, but as an adult he'll make a decent salary off of his art. he works side-jobs, but art is his main income.

during 5th grade, when dolph learns about WW2, he goes "o h." he has a good heart and doesn't want to end up like he who shall not be named. he probably gets a haircut too.

dolph has an entire drawer full of neatly organized art supplies, with every pencil, crayon, eraser, colored pencil, paintbrush, paint, watercolor, etc. you could think of.

dolph's room is always clean, because he can't handle a messy environment. he says it 'sufocates his creativity'.

dolph is friends with preston! not good friends, but dolph will make art/props/backgrounds for preston's plays in exchange for favors/money. they both respect each other's crafts.

dolph became friends with nerris and nikki when the two checked up on him to see if he was okay during candy kingpin. they became closer and eventually ended up being good friends and helped dolph learn what a healthy friendship actually is

dolph has a wall in his room that he painted various drawings on himself. galaxies, feilds, roses, rainbows, clouds, animals, people, everything you can think of. it looks pretty, and he intends to paint every wall in his room- including the ceiling, which he wants to paint like the night sky.

dolph gets sick pretty often. weak ass immune system. what makes it worse is that he's allergic to several medicines, so he just suffers through the illness half the time.

dolph likes reading! specifically non-fiction, especially autobiographies. he typically draws scenes from the books he reads, and gifts them to the author through the mail- that is, if the author is still alive and has an avalible adress.

he insists his father hangs up the art pieces he's proud of around the house. only three are currently up- his dad says that's the limit, and if he wants to put another up, he has to take one down.

dolph's mother/german side of the family is supportive of his artsy talents. his father isn't, because he believes men should be manly, and art isn't manly to him.

dolph can solve a rubix cube! not fast, but he's able to do it. he has a rubix cube in his room that he painted so each side is a different well-known art piece.

anything dolph can paint in the house, he's painted. old book covers, mugs, flowerpots, doors, all of it.

dolph's mostly a painter, but he's trying to discover new artistic styles, such as drawing, watercolor, hyperrealistic art (he's bad at it and gives up eventually), etc. he sticks to painting in the end, but the extra experience helps him in the future.

thats all for the tiny boy