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5-falsehoods-phonated · 3 years

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You Don’t Own Me (You Don’t Even Know Me)

Chapter 1

Summary: As the son of a Baron, Roman Sanders always knew that when he married, it would be due to a political arrangement rather than true love. Still, when he is sent away to marry an older, more powerful Earl, he is determined to make the best of his situation. Despite the Earl's indifference towards him, Roman forges ahead and prepares to become the best husband he can possibly be, making new friends along the way. But when his fiancé's demeanor turns from cold to cruel, Roman must shift all of his focus to survival, and find a way out of his marriage before it's too late.

Ships: Logince (Logan x Roman) Moxiety (Virgil x Patton)

Content Warnings: arranged marriage, abuse, attempted sexual assault, murder, poisoning, character death, hurt/comfort, angst

Word Count: 2604

Read on AO3: here!

Cowritten with @ironwoman359 masterlist

False masterlist

As the son of the Baron of Falkirk, Roman Sanders always knew that when he married, it would be due to a political arrangement. There was a small part of him that mourned the loss of the chance to meet a beautiful stranger and fall hopelessly in love, like the characters in the fairytales that his nanny read to him as a child. But those fantasies were just that, fairytales. The fanciful whims of a child had no place in Roman’s life now that he had come of age. His marriage was to serve one purpose: to elevate his family.

And Roman had been training for that purpose his entire life.

Barely a month had passed since Roman’s twentieth birthday when he was called into his father’s study. He knew that whatever the reason for his summons, it must be important, as his father hated more than anything to be interrupted in his work. Roman knocked twice on the familiar, thick oak doors, and held his breath until he heard his father’s muffled answer from within.

“Come in.”

Roman stepped inside, and was surprised to see his mother and older brother already in the room, seated opposite his father’s old mahogany desk. As he entered, his father stood, gesturing to an empty chair that sat beside his mother.

“Have a seat, son.”

Roman sat.

“I have good news,” his father continued. “As you have now reached the proper age, one of my primary interests has been to find an appropriate arrangement for your marriage.”

Roman’s heartbeat quickened, and he forced himself to remain calm, folding his hands in his lap. This was it. This was the moment that he’d been preparing for nearly all of his life; the moment that would shape his entire future.

“There were many factors to consider,” his father said, stepping around the desk to stand beside his wife. “It was not an easy decision. However, your mother and I have entered an agreement that we believe will be very profitable, for you and for the family.”

Roman nodded. His father was a shrewd negotiator; he was sure that, whatever the terms of the engagement were, the Sanders family would not lose more than what it stood to gain.

“So, you’ve reached a decision then, Father?” he asked, taking a deep breath and willing his expression to remain neutral.

“I have,” his father agreed. “You are to be wed to the Earl of Asberg, Lord Garret Howard. I have just received a message from his footman: they arrived at the Fireside Inn late this afternoon. Tomorrow, they will come to the manor to bring you to Lord Howard’s estate to begin the engagement period.”

Roman bit back a gasp, his eyes growing wide.

“Lord Howard?” he repeated. “I was not even aware the earl was looking for a suitor.”

“For many years, he was not,” Roman’s mother spoke up. “His youth was spent primarily securing the political and financial status of his late father’s estate. Only recently has he turned his attention to more social matters.”

“Your dowry aside, the connections we will gain through this marriage will be of an immense benefit to us,” said Roman’s father. “I know you know your duty son; I trust you will make us proud.”

“I will, Father,” Roman said, getting to his feet. His father held out a hand, and Roman shook it firmly, doing his best to ignore the butterflies in his stomach. “Thank you.”

His mother and brother stood as well, and Roman let his mother pull him into a quick hug and plant a kiss on his cheek.

“Congratulations dear,” she said as she pulled away, a proud smile on her face. “I know you’ll do just wonderfully.”

“Thank you, Mother,” he said, squeezing her hand, and then his brother was in front of him.

“Congrats, Ro,” he said quietly.

“Thanks, Remy,” Roman whispered, and when they shook hands, Roman hoped Remy didn’t notice the slight tremble in his grip.

“The carriage will arrive at eight o’clock tomorrow morning,” Roman’s father declared. “I’ve already instructed the maids to pack your clothing. Whatever other preparations you need, I suggest you make them now.”

“I will. Thank you, Father,” Roman said again, bowing his head slightly to his family.

He left the study, walking through the halls of the manor as though walking through a dream. He reached his quarters, and it was only after he shut the door behind him that he realized he very well might never walk the path from the study to his room again. He sat on the edge of his bed, his formal posture falling from his shoulders like a forgotten shawl now that he was alone.

True to his father’s words, a trunk lay open at the foot of his bed, his shirts and trousers and suits all carefully folded and placed inside by the maid. Another, smaller trunk had been placed beside it, no doubt for Roman to fill with whatever else he wished to bring with him to his fiance’s estate.

His fiance…

Sun, moon, and stars, he was engaged. It wasn’t as though he didn’t know it was coming; he was the youngest of his parents’ three children, after all. As the oldest son, Remington would inherit the title Baron of Falkirk and all the duties that came with it, while Roman and Remus would be married into other families to increase the Sanders’ political influence. So Roman had always known that he was destined to leave the family manor.

That didn’t necessarily mean he was ready to.

He sighed, sweeping his eyes around his room. What would he even take with him? A single evening was hardly enough time for him to consider all that he owned and decide what to bring on a permanent move halfway across the country. Should he bring his books, his star charts, his journals and quills? Or would he be able to find suitable replacements for them all at Lord Howard’s estate? Would he even have time to indulge in his hobbies as the husband of an earl? If only he’d had more than a day’s notice of his departure, then he’d have time to think!

A light knock on the door pulled Roman from his thoughts, and he straightened instantly.

“Who is it?” he called.

“It’s me, Roman,” came the answer, and Roman relaxed at the sound of his brother’s voice.

“Come on in, Rem.”

Remy stepped into the room, closing the door behind him and giving Roman what was probably meant to be a smile, but came out more like a grimace.

“So, it’s finally time,” he said, and Roman rolled his eyes.

“No need to sound like I’m on my deathbed, Remy. It’s just an engagement, we all knew this was coming.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Remy sighed, plopping down on the bed next to Roman and leaning back against the headboard. “Still...I had sort of hoped you’d end up somewhere decently close by. Gremont, for instance, I know Lady Lishan has a daughter who’s eligible. Or maybe Ravenhold. Then you could at least visit. Asberg is…”

“Far,” Roman agreed.

He’d been trying not to think about it. Asberg was at least four days away by carriage, maybe longer depending on the weather, and Roman had never been so far away from home unaccompanied in his life.

“Hey though, the wedding’s only six months away. I’ll get to see you then! And who knows, maybe I’ll be able to come visit for the harvest festival next year...or you could come visit me!”

“Only if you serve coffee,” Remy joked, and Roman laughed, the tension in the room easing just a bit.

“Help me pack?” Roman asked. “I can’t figure out if I should bring everything or nothing.”

“Hmm…” Remy sat up and scanned the room. “My advice? Bring only what you think you can’t live without.”

Roman hesitated, then looked up at his brother.

“You?” he suggested. He tried to shoot Remy a playful smirk, but he could feel the corners of his mouth wobbling, and he knew from the sad smile on his brother’s face that Remy didn’t buy it.

“I wish, Ro-bro,” Remy said, nudging their shoulders together. “But I think one son running away from home is enough of a scandal for Father to deal with.”

“That’s fair, I suppose,” Roman said, looking down and fiddling with his fingers in his lap. “What...what do you think Remus would say? If he were here to see me off?”

“Honestly?” Remy looked up at the ceiling for a moment, then snorted. “He wouldn’t say anything, he’d just lock you in the bedroom and throw away the key to make you stay. Or kidnap you and hide you somewhere so that the wedding had to be cancelled altogether.”

“You’re probably right,” Roman said. He chuckled, but the laugh felt hollow, like a piece of it was missing...gone forever and irreplaceable, just like his brother. “Did...did I ever tell you that he came to see me, the night he left?” he asked quietly.

“No,” Remy answered. “But I had a feeling that he did.”

“He asked me to go with him,” Roman said. “To leave you and Mother and Father and everything we’d ever known, to go chasing ‘freedom’ and ‘adventure,’ like we were children again.” He shook his head, closing his fingers into fists. “I told him I couldn’t.”

“I think he knew that,” Remy said. “But I...I also think he felt he had to at least ask you for himself. I don’t think he’d really believe that you wanted to stay unless he heard you say it.”

“And I did want to stay,” Roman insisted. “I begged him to stay. But he wouldn’t listen, and he left, and now it’s been three years and I have to leave you and Mother and Father and everything I’ve ever known anyway, except now I’ll be alone.” Roman looked up at Remy, his eyes shining with un-shed tears. “What if...what if I made the wrong choice?”

Remy pulled him closer, hooking his chin over Roman’s head like he did when they were small and Roman would trip in the garden and scrape his knee.

“I can’t answer that for you, Ro-bro,” he murmured. “That’s something you have to figure out. But for what it’s worth...I’m glad you stayed. It- it would have been even harder, I think, to lose both of you.”

“You’re losing me now,” Roman whispered, but Remy shook his head.

“No,” he said vehemently. “I’m not. You said it yourself, Roman, the wedding’s only in six months. And Asberg may be far, but it’s not like it's across the ocean or anything. We’ll still be able to see each other once in a while. Remus…” Remy sighed, and tightened his grip around Roman’s shoulders. “Remus left us for himself. You’re leaving us for the family. That’s the difference.”

“Yeah...I know,” Roman said, sniffling a little and nestling deeper into his brother’s hold. “I’m still gonna miss you though.”

“I’ll miss you too, Ro-bro,” Remy said, dropping a kiss into Roman’s hair. “I’ll miss you too.”

Remy eventually left Roman to pack, and the rest of the night passed in a blur. Roman finally decided what to bring with him (his used notebooks and journals, his collection of star charts, and an old cloak that the maid hadn’t packed because it was torn, but that Roman couldn’t bear to part with) and what to leave behind (unused sketchbooks, his set of inks and quills, and the ancient paint set that he hadn’t touched in almost a year), but when he lay down to try and get some rest, sleep evaded him. He tossed and turned for what felt like hours, unable to stop his thoughts from racing. Morning arrived far too soon for his liking, and before he’d really processed what was happening, he was standing at the bottom of the front steps of the manor with his family, waiting for the carriage to arrive.

"Now Roman, remember," his father said, and Roman looked up at him. "Lord Howard oversees an estate far larger than our own. Whatever duties you are expected to perform, they will be on a scale far greater than what you are accustomed to here."

"He may look to you to aid him in business, but he may also expect you to oversee more of the social obligations. He has dealings with many different families, after all," Roman's mother added, and Roman nodded.

"Politics is never just about numbers," he recited, and his father's lips twitched in a small smile.

"That's right, son. Remember all that we've taught you, and you'll do fine."

A carriage pulled in at the end of the manor's drive, and Roman took a deep breath.

"Remember to write!" his mother said, pressing a kiss to his cheek and giving his shoulder a squeeze.

Roman placed a hand over hers, then shot Remy a lopsided smile.

"Any last words for me, Rem?"

Remy smirked, and ruffled Roman's hair.

"If you let Earlship go to your head, I’ll cut you out of the estate when I take over."

"Honestly, Remington," their mother said, rolling her eyes, and Remy winked at Roman.

The carriage reached them then, and Roman quickly moved to fix his hair. A footman hopped down from a seat on the rear, and bowed to Roman's father.

"Good morning," he said as he straightened. "I come on behalf of my Lord Garret Howard, Earl of Asberg, to deliver a dowry payment to Lord Phillip Sanders, Baron of Falkirk, and to collect his lordship's fiance, Lord Roman Sanders."

"Thank you, sir," said Roman's father, nodding to the footman. "Our family is honored by this union. May I present my son, Roman."

Roman inclined his head to the servant, who bowed again, quick and low.

"A pleasure, my lord. Allow me to gather your things."

Roman's luggage was loaded onto the back of the carriage, and Roman tried not to think about the large trunk that was unloaded and left at his father's feet. He hadn't been told the amount of his dowry, and he didn't want to know. For some reason, it made him feel strange to think about money being given to his family in return for his hand; it made it seem more like he'd been bought, when that wasn't the case!

“Well,” he said when everything was ready to go. “I guess this is it.”

“Safe journey, son,” his father said, laying a hand on his shoulder. “Make us proud.”

Roman swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded. He gave his family as strong a smile as he could muster, then he stepped into the carriage and the footman closed the door behind him. Roman drew the curtains back from the window and peered behind them as the carriage pulled away from his home. Remy and his mother were both waving, and even his father raised his hand briefly in farewell. Roman watched them grow smaller and smaller, and then the carriage turned out of the grounds and he couldn’t see them anymore. The manor that had been his entire world for the past twenty years shrank into the distance, until it was nothing but a speck on the horizon.

Roman finally turned around so he was facing the direction the carriage was traveling. His father’s words echoed in his mind, and he took a deep breath.

Don’t worry, father, he thought. I’ll make you proud. I’ll make our whole family proud.

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#sanders sides #sanders sides fic #roman sanders #remy sanders #logan sanders #sanders sides au #you dont own me #ydom

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marmolady · 2 years

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Another Sunset (Part One)

Main Pairings: Estela x (f)MC

Summary: In the far future of 2052, Estela is once again faced with a staggering loss within her family. Tio Nicolas reflects upon the life he's shared with his niece.

WARNINGS: Assisted suicide, character death.

Tagging: @saivilo, @edgydepressedchoicesthot, @sceptilemasterr, @mauvecatfic @rhemenway888

Thanks for reading! You can find Part Two here.

San Trobida, 2052

The room was beginning to darken. It wouldn’t be long now. Nicolas Montoya pushed himself upwards with his hands so that he could better look out the window. So much had changed since he set up home in this place… but that view out the window barely had. The lengthening shadows… the way they fell, it was just another sunset like all those that had come before.

The door opened, and in came his great-niece, his Liv. Not far off thirty now, Liv was a living reminder of all that he’d gotten right. She wasn’t just Liv now; as of a few months prior, she was Dr. Olivia Montoya. The second one. Making her name as a passionate zoologist and conservationist, she was now protecting San Trobida, as was family tradition. But the scars over her weathered arms were not marks of a fight for survival, rather marks of a life lived fully and of her choosing. In Liv, Nicolas saw a great deal of his beloved Estela, and his sister before her, but Liv was perhaps what they might have been in a kinder lifetime.

“Can an old man not die in peace, Livitita?”

“Nope,” said Liv sternly. “Not when we all know you’re happiest when you’ve got the whole motley crew hanging around.”

“Ah--” Nicolas hacked up a painful cough, and settled back into his pillow, wincing. “I suppose there’s worse company to be in. Come… sit on the bed. Don’t make me strain my eyes to see your dopey face.”

As Liv sat down at his side, knees up to her chest, her eyes began to water. “There’s… no chance you might hang on another few weeks?” she asked weakly, knowing the answer.

Nicolas lifted a gnarled old hand and cradled her cheek. “Mija….”

To see her cry, his little Livi, their sunshine girl… it made his heart ache, even now that she was all grown up. Heaven knew how he’d endure it when Estela, so much more stoic than her daughter in her protectiveness, finally cracked.

The door creaked open, and Jeimy came in. Within seconds, they too were teary.

“Joder, not you as well! I hope those are recycled tissues you’re using-- you’ll be going through them like they’re going out of style!”

That ruffled Jeimy’s feathers. “What do you take me for? Of course they’re goddamn recycled.”

Liv snorted with laughter, and it was just what Nicolas needed. Gentle Jeimy would not say boo to a goose… unless you got onto something they were passionate about, then an angry little lion would briefly rear their head. Nicolas had found it little wonder Liv adored them so-- they liked their passionate hearts around here.

Jeimy leaned down to embrace Nicolas, then sat beside Liv, taking her hand and squeezing it. Liv’s free hand reached for her tio abuelo’s.

“¡Y ahora parece que estás a punto de llorar de nuevo!” he exclaimed.

“Well, if you didn’t want me to cry, maybe you should try not dying?” Liv demanded, spluttering. “Viejo pendejo!”

“Cursing me out on my deathbed. Young people these days….”

Meeting Nicolas’ eyes, Liv’s own filled with tears until she could keep them from falling no longer. “I… don’t really know what to say. I’m sorry.” She grimaced. “You always imagine when you have to say goodbye to someone, you’ll know how to find just the right words. I need you to know how much….”

With his thumb, Nicolas stroked Liv’s hand. “People talk too much. I don’t need to hear words out your mouth to tell me what I already know. In some ways….” He winced, began to cough, and winced some more. “I-in some ways it’s better just to enjoy one another’s company without the need to do it ‘right’. Don’t worry about wasting this time… I could never see it as wasted.”

He held her as she cried. She could feel her so strong in his frail old arms… where had those years gone? He’d held her through her tears when she was so little he could cradle her entire body with one forearm.

“Thanks, Tio,” Liv murmured. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, allowing herself to just be in the moment. “I… I know you know I love you.”

Nicolas’ deeply lined face cracked with a smile. “So, what with my being certain you know I love you too… I think we will be fine.”

___________________________

La Huerta, 2023

Nicolas was twitchy as he waited on the garden bench, looking over the small memorial Estela had erected for his sister. It was all there was, just a marked stone, a box of letters, and a scattering of flowers. All there was left. His eyes stung as he read the words on the stone again and again, the name of the little sister he’d promised to keep safe. Oh, their papa would be rolling in his grave. Nicolas rubbed his eyes, not allowing himself to be overcome when sadness when this was to be a moment of the deepest happiness. But then, the deepest happiness really did only come out of the shadow of heartache.

He’d sworn he’d never come to this place. It was Rourke’s island. Evil. Had Nicolas not been surrounded by enough evil in his days? To know that his beloved sister’s body had been disposed of there… it tainted the place beyond help. Of course, he supported Estela. If La Huerta had given her the sense of peace and home for her, then he could never begrudge her staying. But it wasn’t for him.

Until the damned baby came along. That damned baby, whose arrival had brought him to joyous tears. It seemed only that damned baby could make an old man as stubborn as him willingly get on a plane to this godforsaken island.

Estela returned to him, now holding in her arms a wriggling infant; her own Livita. The babe was a few weeks old now, and Nicolas could see already that she was bright-eyed and healthy. Perfection.

“Tio, I’d like you to meet Livi.” Estela’s eyes shone with pride. “Livita….” Her voice cracked. “T-this is your tio abuelo.”

“An honour to meet you, mija!” Nicolas chuckled, reaching for Liv’s hand and letting her tiny fingers wrap around his much larger one. “A strong grip already! Your mama will make a fine sparring partner out of you--”

“Like hell she will!” Taylor laughed, sitting down beside Estela on the bench and putting an arm around her. “The last thing I want is a toddler that can K.O. me. No sparring until madam’s at least….”

“Five?” Estela grinned broadly, and kissed the side of her wife’s head. Truly, she was a picture of contentment, and it stirred Nicolas deeply. It had been a long time coming. A long time, much trauma, countless scars, and great depths of despair… but she’d gotten to this place, and it was all the sweeter for what had come before. “D’you wanna hold her?”

That was no question at all. Nicolas carefully took the baby in his arms and held her against his chest. She blinked up at him with dark shining eyes, brow creased. There was attitude in this one! Even at this tender age, features were familiar, as if taken from their old family album. All those features of people he’d tried and failed to keep safe; his mama, his sister, his little shining star, Estela. In Liv he had another chance, and he wouldn’t fail again.

Nicolas’ voice caught in his throat. “She does look like you. You and your mother-- she’s got that fire in her eyes.”

Taylor was looking at her little girl with utter warmth. “Yeah… we’re expecting a handful. Especially if the past few weeks are anything to go by.” She glanced to Estela and winked. “Nothing we can’t handle.”

“You’ve handled one Montoya woman, Taylita, what’s another?”

___________________________

San Trobida, 2052

Taylor switched on the lamp as she entered the room.

“God, how did it get dark so fast?”

“Time moves quickly when you’re hurtling toward a deadline,” Nicolas said simply.

“Yeah….” came the wistful reply.

Funny, if anyone could understand what it was to have a predetermined expiry date, it was the woman before him now. She, however, had cheated death. For him… well, the number of lives he’d used up would make a cat green with envy. It was just his time.

Nearer sixty than fifty-- though her actual count of years lived was a far smaller number-- Taylor’s hair was more silver than blonde, her face carried the lines etched by countless smiles. Ageing, Nicolas knew too well, was a privilege, and one he’d watched Taylor, his second niece, fight for, so fragile she’d been when first they’d met. It had been so long now… it barely registered now that she was ‘different’. Perhaps now she wasn’t. Her life was full; people, places, memories. Their family, once his and now hers too, it anchored her to the world where she belonged, and from those roots she’d flourished.

“How are your pillows? Are you comfortable?” she asked, concern clear to see in her blue eyes.

Nicolas shifted, frowning. This was exactly why he had to be done with all this. His aching body protested even the simplest of tasks, with each exertion his lungs seemed to strain and fail all the more. His life, as he saw it, was over. “I could be propped up a bit higher.”

“I’ll grab another pillow.”

Taylor did, and assisted her uncle-in-law into a slightly more upright position. “Better?”

He grunted.

Taylor sat down, leaning over the bed so she could clasp Nicolas’ hands. “You’re welcome.”

Nicolas met her eye, studying her. She’d never seemed to flinch at his scrutiny of her, his need to analyse motive and character.

“How is Livi?” he asked at last.

“She’s….” Taylor bit her lip. “It’s hard. She’s not lost anyone close to her before.”

“I’d almost call that miraculous….” said Nicolas darkly. He furrowed his grizzled eyebrows. “But then… this is just as new an experience for you, señora extraterrestre.”

Taylor’s quirked a small smile. “And you. Ever died before?”

He chuckled appreciatively. “If I recall, you have.”

“Bah-- only briefly. Your girl knows her CPR. Between her and Michelle, I was never going anywhere.”

Again, they shared a lingering gaze. Nicolas could see the worry that couldn’t be hidden. What was to come would be… testing. How could he reassure when he shared that worry? When he’d be gone and there wouldn’t be a damn thing he could do….

“Miraculous,” he croaked again. “It seems our luck changed when you fell out the sky.”

Taylor’s eyes filled with tears. “I can’t protect her from this…,” she apologised.

“You should tell yourself that. You can’t carry the burden of another person’s mental state entirely on your shoulders.”

She laughed dryly, caught out. “I know, I know. Liv’s been calling me out as well. Estela was right when she said this family didn’t put up with hypocrites. But I am going to look after myself as well. I… I know… this is going to hit me. It’s… going to be hard.”

“I should think so. I am your uncle after all.”

“You’ve gotta know how much you mean to me, tio. You didn’t have to take me in the way you did, treat me as family, but you welcomed me. It sounds like something so small, but it really made a difference.”

Nicolas closed his eyes and sighed, a small smile upon his face. “You make it sound like I had a choice in the matter. You were family. That was clear very quickly, mija.”

“It’s not going to be the same around here without you.” Taylor said, and she rested her hand on Nicolas’ arm. “I always enjoyed our middle of the night ‘can’t-sleep-so-let’s-drink-rum-and-trauma-dump-together’ sessions. Considering the alcohol involved, it’s amazing that I always came out the other end actually more clear-headed.”

“Well, it worked both ways. It didn’t surprise me at all when you took to providing counsel as a vocation; you have a knack. I was more used to having only Estelita to talk to of a nighttime. And you know… blood from a stone….”

Taylor chuckled. “She’s gotten better.”

“True. True.” His eyelids were heavy… it would be a relief to let them fall shut and stay that way… but Nicolas opened his eyes enough to offer his niece the reassurance she needed. He knew he couldn’t help, but he had faith in his niece’s inner strength. “She’ll get through this.”

“I… I know.” Even as Taylor’s voice shook, her face was full of conviction. “There’s no way in hell you’d be bowing out now if you didn’t know that too. It’s gonna be awful, but… Estela’s gonna be okay.”

“And mija? You’ll get through this as well.”

All too soon, Estela came in with a small pile of papers and a pen, her face drawn and tired. There was official business to be attended to, and then… then it would be just Nicolas and his first niece, his protege, until the end.

“I hope you’re not making my wife cry, Tio,” Estela said brusquely. “I’m already having to mop up Livi and Jeimy.”

No doubt it was hurting Estela deeply to be unable to protect her beloved child from this-- he could already see it in her eyes. That the family Nicolas was to leave behind would band together with love and solace to get one another through was a great comfort, and it allowed him to let go.

“I’d never dream of it. I’m under no illusions that my being close to death would stop you from ripping me a new one.”

He was tired. These conversations had been heavy, leaving him so ready for sleep. It wasn’t long now and he’d have his rest.

“I suppose this will be the last signature you’ll need from me?” he growled. “That will be everything above board?”

He thought he caught Estela’s lip tremble, but when she spoke, she sounded steady and strong.

“Yes, that’ll be it. Taylor’s gonna sign as a witness, and then we’re set. You won’t have to worry about anyone getting in trouble over this.”

Nicolas closed his eyes. As if you could ever not get yourself into trouble, little star. He nodded.

“Good… good…. I should think so anyway. Everything I’ve given for this country to have a little peace-- you would want to think I’d be allowed to take some for myself?”

With a little help from Taylor, Nicolas sat up, scanned over the official papers, and signed away.

“That’s… that’s it, then,” he wheezed, feeling relief as he sank back into his pillows.

Taylor helped him to get comfortable again, her eyes watering. “Th-this is where I leave you, tio. In the best possible hands.” Weeping, she kissed his forehead. “Te amo, viejo. Duerme un poco. ”

He grasped her hand and brought it to his lips to kiss her. “I love you, too. Nuestra señora de las estrellas.”

When Taylor stood up and embraced Estela so hard, giving comfort that was everything and yet still could not be enough, Nicolas felt his heart wrenching.

He had always known this would be the hardest part.

_______________________

San Trobida, 2010

Nicolas came into the kitchen to find Olivia quietly seething as she placed several flattened balls of dough into a pan. He could read her, her telling expression, like a book. Her talk with her employer hadn’t gone well.

“Do I even need to ask?” he ventured, and his sister turned around, scowling.

“I didn’t go in expecting any different; I knew that man has no compassion,” she said bitterly. She huffed, putting down her spatula. “The most Rourke can offer if anything happens to you is a couple weeks leave to come home and make sure Estela is safe and provided for. ‘No children on the island’ means ‘no children under any circumstance’. Even if it means leaving a fifteen year old kid alone in the midst of a fucking war. He’s a bastard.”

“Joder eso,” Nicolas growled. “El puede ir al infierno.”

Olivia leaned her head back, her eyes closed, her hands kneading her neck, and she swore under her breath. “Unfortunately, he’s a bastard who’s giving me the best hope I’m ever going to get of getting Estela out of here for good. You saw the salary offer.”

The arepas sizzled, and Olivia turned to check on them, while Nicolas went over scenarios in his head. A lot could happen in a year. Wars could even be won or lost. There was no question of his stepping away from the front lines-- too many people on their side now relied upon him. But if he was killed in the course of what needed to be done, what the hell would become of Estela?

“Paola. I’ll ask Paola to keep Estela safe until you can get back home.”

“Paola Ruiz? Ivan’s wife?”

“Estela already knows Ivan. Obviously, there’s little point asking for him to watch over her when he’s as likely to get wiped out as I am, but Paola is at least somewhat familiar. And sharp enough to keep Estelita from trouble.”

He put a hand on his sister’s shoulder, felt her slump, afraid. Trapped.

“I have to do this,” she said shakily. “One year and they’ll let me transfer to the States. She’ll actually be able to get an education without fear of being indoctrinated. She’ll have a future.”

“I know, Livita. I don’t like it, but I know.” Nicolas watched as Olivia shook herself back to the present and finished up their meal. Always powering on, no matter how daunting the path ahead looked. While he worried for Estela, he couldn’t help feel relief that at least Olivia, the little sister he’d always been so protective of, would be miles and miles away-- safe from the unfolding disaster that was their home. Of course he’d support her. “You’re a good mother.”

Olivia plated up arepas for the two of them, and for Estela. She laughed darkly. “I’m trying. I’m trying so hard I wouldn’t be surprised if it killed me. I couldn’t keep on doing it without you.”

She met Nicolas’ gaze and held it, steely and unflinching, as if she could order him to make everything all right.

“Just… for god’s sake, Nic, keep yourself alive.”

_________________________

San Trobida, 2052

“My star… if I’m asking too much of you….”

Estela cut across. “Never.”

She sat down on the bed, crossing her legs, then reached for her uncle’s hands. Softly, she kissed his calloused old fingers. “I want to help you. I will always want to help you. And I’m gonna be there with you right ‘til the end.”

Nicolas coughed, rough, hacking. He knew his dearest niece was making an effort not to wince at his obvious pain. Oh, she was a stubborn pain in the ass.

“I know… Estelita… --kff-- that you don’t easily back down once you’ve decided you’re going to do something, but --kff-- please….” He ran a thumb over her hands. The two of them had endured so much with those hands entwined… and they’d endured even more knowing those hands were always there to be reached for. “Mija, you’re the one who’ll be living with this. Your needs are more important here than mine.”

“Look at me,” Estela demanded.

And he did. He saw a fierce fighter, the raging fire still flickering behind her eyes, now framed with the wrinkles that came of a life well lived. He saw the deep, angry scar he might have prevented had he not failed her, failed her mother. He saw warmth, and kindness. A mouth that he knew to form the most irrepressible, most contagious of smiles.

He knew hers would be the last face he’d ever see.

“Tio,” she said shakily, “I’m terrified. I don’t… I don’t want you to go.”

“Estel….”

She held him tighter with one hand, while her other reached to stroke his face. “I’m with you. It doesn’t… it doesn’t matter how hard it is. The only regret I would have is not doing this for you. Okay?”

--kff-- --kff-- “Well… that’s me told….”

Estela already had his pills prepared, sitting alongside a glass of water for when the time came. Looking after him, as she had since he’d first become ill.

“So, um… how do you want to do this?” she asked tentatively. “I guess you just… tell me when you’re ready, and I’ll help you take it then?”

Nicolas nodded stiffly. He was ready. Done with all this. And yet to say goodbye was so hard to bear.

“Do you think, mija,” he asked quietly, “there’s any peace to be had on the other side, when so many you’ve let down are waiting for you?”

He’d had a little joke… many, many times before… that he had to keep on surviving, for his little sister’s wrath when he joined her in the afterlife would be a fury beyond compare. It had been so easy to speak in jest, skirting neatly around the depth of his shame. He’d told his father that should anything happen to him, he’d care for Olivia. He’d told Olivia that should anything happen to her, he’d care for Estela. The bloody images he’d never rid from his mind were the penance he carried for promises broken. That shame. Either it was all about to catch up with him, or he’d at last be free.

Holding him still, Estela sucked in a breath, and emotion rattled her voice. “I--I think that Mami will grab you by the ear and ask what the fuck you were thinking. And then she’ll hug you until the life’s crushed out of you. What happens if you get hugged to death in the afterlife?”

Nicolas looked into his niece’s scarred face, and appreciated her. Somehow, for all his fucking up, he had in her the best friend he’d ever known.

“I suppose I’ll have to find out.”

Then, Estela’s face crumpled. “You’ll… tell her I love her?”

Mustering all of his failing strength, Nicolas pulled her into an embrace. It took everything in him to hold it together. This was every bit as hard as he’d known it would be.

“I didn’t think you believed in any of that?”

Estela rebutted with an “I didn’t think you did?”

Nicolas smiled darkly. “With my own curtain about to close, it’s hard not to imagine everyone I’ve wronged waiting to give me what I deserve. The guilt catching up with me.”

Estela’s eyes were still misty, and she stared into space. “I want Mom to be somewhere. I don’t know if that’s the same as believing. But I want it. And you… I don’t want you to just be… gone.”

His response was a hoarse whisper. “I know.”

With a shuddering exhale, Estela came back to herself. “I’ll have to just… think of you when I pour out a rum. Or when the grandkids want to know about that sword wound you gave me.”

“Grandkids? Has Livita said something?”

Estela leaned forward and kissed his forehead. “It’s only a matter of time. These past few months she and Jeimy have been dropping ‘when’s rather than ‘if’s when the subject of kids comes up.”

Nicolas chuckled softly. Children? It was a shame he’d miss them, but how comforting to have that certainty of life marching on. Liv would be a wonderful mother. Ah… what he wouldn’t give to see his Estela as the doting and fiercely protective abuela he knew she’d be. Perhaps an afterlife would not be so bad… it would be nice indeed to somehow watch over his family as they continued to blossom in his absence.

He’d find out soon enough.

With assistance, Nicolas got comfortable, nestled in his pillows. Estela lay down beside him, linking her fingers with his, and sharing with him a long stretch of easy quiet. It was peaceful.

“Mija….”

“Are you ready?”

“I’m ready.” He could see the apprehension in her face. Small wonder-- what was to come would not be easy. “If you are ready.”

Estela scoffed, gently mocking, and gave his hand a squeeze. “As if I was ever going to be ready.”

He brought his hands to her face, looking upon her with love. “My star…,” he said shakily. As Estela’s dark eyes began to sparkle with tears, he felt a lump form in his throat, one he’d simply have to fight past. “I have done things in my life that I’m proud of… things I wrote a whole damn book on. It’s nothing next to the pride I feel-- that I’ve always… always felt-- in being your uncle. I… I won’t be able to thank you for what you’re doing for me after the fact, so… while I can still look you in the eye and say it; thank you, mi vida, Estelita. I love you.”

“I love you, Tio.” A tear rolled down Estela’s cheek, then another. She placed the pills in his hand and squeezed his fingers once more. Speaking in a whisper, she brought her forehead to her uncle’s. “You basically… you taught me how to be a parent. The way you were there for me, helping me even when I was too messed up to help myself. I know….” She sniffed. “I know you feel like you didn’t do enough, that you let me down… but god, I know I wouldn’t be here now without you.”

That lump in Nicolas’ throat gave way, and he let out a dry sob. As his niece, his dearest friend, kissed his brow, then his cheek, he felt peace from his head to his toes. He exhaled slowly, then took the pills. Estela held his glass of water, helping him drink.

He settled down, closing his eyes, and sighed deeply. Tucked up close beside him, his Estela, stroking his hands, kissing them… whispering that she loved him over and over again.

And he let himself drift away.

__________________________

San Trobida, 2002

“Tio! Tio!” Little Estela, six years old, jumped up, flinging her arms around her uncle’s middle. “Tio, Tio, Tio!”

“Oof!” Nicolas was knocked back by the force of the little human hurricane who flung herself at him. “Now that’s how you give a welcome! And here I thought you’d be in bed by now.”

Olivia stood with her arms crossed. “She was. Apparently not as ‘asleep’ as she’d pretended she was.” She reached for her daughter, prying one arm away from Nicolas’ torso. “Estelita, amorcita, just a quick cuddle with Tio Nicolas, then you need to go back to bed.”

“Mami!” came the immediate protest.

“It’s late, and you have school tomorrow.”

“Please, Mami, I only just seen him! It’s been a really long time.”

“I know, nenita linda, but you need sleep. You don’t want to be tired and grumpy tomorrow-- you want to be fresh and happy so you can properly enjoy having your tio back home.”

Estela, though, wasn’t letting go. “But I not seen Tio Nicolas in a really, really long time-- I missed my tio, I just want to see him a little bit….”

It struck Nicolas hard, how much his absence… his absence and the knowledge that he was in danger, had caused distress. Estela needed to be comforted, to know that he was home and safe, and that things would be back to normal-- at least for the time.

“¡Ay, hermana! She’s about to cry. There can’t be any harm in her staying up a little while. I could take her to the roof to look at some stars.”

Olivia frowned, but it was clear to see that she was cut up by her little daughter’s desperation, born of what Nicolas knew must have been an anxiety-ridden few weeks. “Half an hour-- tops. And don’t you ‘¡Ay, hermana!’ me when you come in here so late and get her all worked up. Cabrón.”

“What’s a cabrón?” Estela asked innocently, looking up at her mother with wide, curious eyes.

“Never you mind, chiquita.”

Nicolas put a blanket over his little niece’s shoulders, then helped her up to the roof. Already there were cushions set up, for it was a favourite place to retreat to. To look at the stars was an escape; something that took them far away from the fighting and the fear. The night sky was vast and wild and beautiful. In Nicolas, that sky stirred hope for something more, something better; in Estela it was simply a wonder.

“Follow where I’m pointing, Estelita….”

“Yeah… I am.”

“You see this cluster of stars here?”

“Kinda.”

“That is the constellation of Virgo; the maiden. You see, if you were to join the stars together, it makes a picture. This is a woman’s torso… a leg… her head… her arm hanging down.”

“Hee-hee, it’s a jellyfish!”

“A jellyfish?”

“See-- look! All the long lines go into the circle in the middle, like the middle bit is its body, and the long lines are its arm-tentacle things. It’s definitely a jellyfish. And that’s not boring than just some person.”

Nicolas scoffed playfully. “And I suppose you know better than all the astrologists and historians, do you?”

“We can ask Mom. She’s smart, and she knows all about stars. She’ll know it looks more like a jellyfish than some maid girl.” Estela yawned widely, and snuggled against her uncle’s side.

“Of course you say ‘ask Mom’, as if she’d ever take my side over yours!”

“Tio…,” Estela said, quieter. “Why did you go away so long? I missed you.”

“It wasn’t safe. The people I was dealing with were very dangerous. I had to be very careful not to bring that danger home to you.”

“I don’t care about danger,” she whimpered. “I just want you to be home with us.”

“Oh, amorcita….” Nicolas stroked his niece’s hair, and felt the entirety of her little body relax into him. He hated to distress her so. It would be worth it, she’d see someday. She’d live in a world that was kinder; of that he was determined. If it killed him, he’d see to it. “I’m home with you now. Hopefully, it’ll be a long time before I have to go away again. Do you know, I feel less worried leaving knowing your Mami has her brave Estelita to make her smile every day?”

“Really?”

“Of course.”

She closed her tired eyes, and her head lolled against his chest.

“...I still think it’s a jellyfish….”

#endless summer #estela montoya #nicolas montoya #tio nicolas #playchoices #estela x mc

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fruitless-nonsense · 3 years

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Okay, so I didn’t actually think anyone would care what I had to say. I just saw a post that riled me up and I wrote that to let off some steam. That being said, to everyone who liked my post or just read it thank you from the bottom of my heart. Seriously it means so much to me that there are people who notice what I have to say. That being said, I want to do more of these cause I have a lot of opinions that aren’t widespread, and I’d like to start with a post gushing about a certain character that receives too much hate. However, seeing as this isn’t a rant out of agitation this might take a bit longer to get out. With that long introduction out of the way... Cami O’Connell!

As I said, Cami is my favorite female character in the whole of the tvdverse (Bonnie is a close second). The reason why I want to start with her instead of Bonnie or my favorite character (Marcel) is because while both were royally screwed with by the writers, there are plenty of fans online who sing their praises (as they deserve). However, when it comes to Cami the consensus online is either hatred or indifference by a vast majority of the fans (that being said there are still a good amount of people who do love her I’m not saying there aren’t, but they are in the minority). This is something I never quite understood, but I’m gonna try my best educated guess on it.

I suppose before I go any further, I have a confession to make. The way I watched both tvd and to was not a straight line. Several years ago, I decided to finally watch tvd and started with the first two season (which I really liked), then a youtuber dropped a video analyzing the pilot for to and the premise hooked me immediately so I started the first season and kept watching until finishing the third, then I decided to go back and watch tvd seasons three and four, then got bored so I switched back to finish to, and finally after a few months declared I wanted to finish what I started and slogged through the second half of tvd. Why is this relevant? Well I just wanted to inform y’all as this might’ve led to my different perspectives on many things in both shows, and it hopefully can somewhat explain my reasoning

Going back to Cami, why is she my favorite female? A multitude of reasons. Firstly, I love how different she is from other female characters we’ve seen. Characters like Elena, Bonnie, and Caroline are fun in their own right, with bubbly personalities and childish innocence. This makes sense because they’re teenagers! Even Elena’s angst comes off more like young naivety than a wayward soul. I’m not knocking this characterization, it makes sense that a show aimed at teenagers would have teenage girls as it’s main cast. Where am I going with this? Cami might be the most mature character we’ve seen in this universe that actually has a pretty big part in the cast. What I mean is that shows like this paint maturity on women as being motherly or a stick in the mud, but Cami is neither. She’s still fun and loose, but with an aura of restraint and intelligence that needs to be accumulated over time. She’s not even that old! My guesstimation puts her at 23 cause we know she’s graduated college with a degree in psychology and was already working at Rousseau’s in the pilot (you mean to tell me you don’t just get your dream job right out of college, you have to work some dead end jobs first? YA lied to me!). I don’t know how quite to describe it beyond that, Cami just feels like a real person to me, and that makes me invested in her life even more.

Secondly, is her personality beyond her intelligence. I love how empathetic and kind she is! In the span of three seasons, she had helped almost everyone in the show while never sticking her feet into the main drama. That’s another thing, she knows when something’s over her head and will step out when she can, when something is pushing her, she fights back. I love that despite how kind hearted she is, she’s not a pushover. If there’s something she doesn’t like, she will attest. She may be nice, but get on her bad side and her sass will cut you like a knife. Considering she’s only a human against these witches, vampires, and originals you would call this unrealistic, but it works because unlike most people on the show, she’s smart. I know I just said beyond her intelligence, but I just want to gush about how fun it is watching Cami get out of trouble on her own by using nothing but her brain (I just think it’s neat). Characters this complex are not usually reserved for women on the cw, which leads into my final reason.

I love how much agency Cami has throughout her run on the show! Like, her story isn’t stapled to Klaus, she does so much without him even being there. In tvd, I can’t think of a single storyline Elena had that wasn’t tied to one or both of the Salvatore brothers, Bonnie is constantly being abused by the writers, Caroline is forcibly impregnated, Hayley starts off with her own goals before being tied to Jackson and later Elijah, Davina also starts off with her own ambitions before also being shackled to her love interest to resurrecting Kol being her only storyline in season three. I’m sure there are more, but these are just ones off the top of my head. While this makes me wish she had her own storyline, I acknowledge she is a supporting character (which begs the question of why none of the women in the main cast get this luxury but I digress).

This has been very long, and we’re just getting to complaints. Unlike complaints about the ship, I have yet to find an argument about why Cami sucks that isn’t factually incorrect, so if you have one please share. The first complaint I hear is that Cami is a copy of Caroline (I’ll give y’all that have seen the show a second to stop laughing at the statement). I’ve already explained why Caroline and Cami are two very different characters (hint: one is bubble and energetic and one is calm and mature), I know they’re both blonde, nice, empathetic, and have names that start with c, but try paying attention to what you’re watching then maybe you’ll have a better grasp on it. Secondly is that Cami’s only purpose is being Klaus’ love interest. Like I stated, there’s a lot Cami does where Klaus isn’t even present, unless you’re saying everyone Cami has had a story with was a love interest (So Davina, Josh, Hayley, Elijah, Marcel cerca season two onward, Vincent, Lucien, that detective guy, and her uncle Kieran), in that case I think y’all are onto something with Cami being a Mary Sue cause she getting all the action (note the sarcasm)! That’s another thing, people say Cami’s a Mary Sue cause almost everyone loves her and she has basically no flaws. First of all, I don’t believe Mary Sue to be a character problem but a story problem, and above all an excuse to neuter powerful women lest they make fragile men uncomfortable. Second of all, we see Cami form these relationships in real time through her actions not by her existence. Third of all (not that she needs them to be a good character since other favs don’t), Cami has her stubbornness that eventually got her killed and the fact that strength wise she is the weakest character in the show by her being human.

Are you catching on to some of what I’m saying? Most of these complaints aren’t even true, yet it’s all we hear. My first inclination was to blame this hatred on klaroline shippers who were bitter that their ship could no longer sail, but then I saw posts of people who claimed not to ship them and still hated Cami because she was “just a love interest.” Which leads into the other problem with haters: the hypocrisy. Reasons people hate Cami are elements in other characters that these same people love. Never mind the fact that some of these complaints don’t even apply to her like the love interest thing. To use something that isn’t a lie, people will hate on Cami for sleeping with Marcel in season one when Marcel is Klaus’ son, meanwhile y’all seem to forget Elena not only dated but cheated on Stefan with Damon in the finale of tvd season two (spoiler: she kissed him on his deathbed while her boyfriend and his brother was searching for a way to save him, which doesn’t even go into all their kisses in season three) and furthermore shipping Marcel with Rebekah who would be his aunt (I know some people who ship them acknowledge this but damn). I also know these people jumped at the chance to attack Cami for stealing the white oak stake in season three and ignoring what she was going through meanwhile will wave past everything Elena, Damon, and Caroline did when they had their humanity turned off as “they were going through a lot” (disclaimer: no hate to either of those girls, they were understandably in much pain, just wanna expose the hypocrisy). This all made me reevaluate the reasoning as more than just shippers being bitter, this seemed much more malicious to just be that.

After a lot of thought, my only conclusion I can come to is sexism. Cami is a very different female character than what we’re used to, she’s strong willed, opinionated, smarter than the men, and more mature. I guess fans weren’t ready for a character like that so assumed it was bad or just wrote her off as too different, but that’s giving the benefit of the doubt. To be honest, I still don’t know why she was so hated and continues to be ignored by fans, but maybe it’s time we start asking that question. It’s time we appreciate characters like this so maybe we can have more of them on the cw. It’s time to give Camille O’Connell and Leah Pipes the respect they deserve!

(P.S - Can someone far more talented than me please put out some Cami x reader content? I’m starved of my girl and Leah is too pretty for my gay brain to function!)

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spideymarvelws · 3 years

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Always But Not Forever

Mob!Tom Holland x Reader

Main Masterlist / Add Yourself To My TagList

Summary : During the interrogation of a mole, Tom learns something

A/n : I want to write something for the holidays but i dont do fluff (unless its requested) so here’s a angsty mob!au instead

Warnings : Torchere, blood, violence, cursing, illusion do death, fluff if you squint (dont worry it doesnt last long), mention of injuries, mention of manipulation, implied death?

Word Count : 1.7k

...

“You know, I almost admire the audacity you must’ve had to pull off something like this,” Tom chuckled, rolling up the sleeves of his white button up, “To betray us, to betray me,”

The pads of his fingers passed over the array of equipment laid out on the table in front of him, teasing the handles of guns, knives and other various torchere devices. Usually, he would just grab his trusty blade from the holder on his belt, slicing the person's throat to watch them bleed out on the chair, coughing and pleading for their life.

But this was a special occasion, one he wanted to drag on for as long as possible. He wanted to hear her screams fill the room, echoing its way around the warehouse. He wanted the floor to be soaked in her blood, dripping from her skin. He wanted to watch her life drain from her eyes slowly and painfully.

But first, he needed to get answers.

“So,” he said slowly, “Are you going to tell me why? Or do I have to force out out of you,”

The woman only chuckled, her eyes hooded as she stared him straight in the eye, “I think we both know the answer to that Tommy,”

“Don’t fucking call me that,” he growled, striding up and grabbing her throat with enough force to lean the chair back, not caring if it were to fall and break on the hard, concrete floor.

“Aww, what’s wrong?” she fake pouted, “I thought you loved the name? Or is it only reserved for your whore of a wife,”

“You really want to die don’t you,” Tom chuckled darkly, bending down to look her directly in the eyes, face inches apart, “You’re on thin fucking ice,”

“And I want to shatter it,” she sneered, leaning her own face forward as much as she could with the restraints tied around her, “Just like I did your best pals heart,”

Tom felt his chest tighten at the mention of Harrison. He would never blame the blond for what happened, because despite the guilt he held, he knew that it wasn't his fault. He blamed himself for getting his friend in the hospital on his deathbed. Well maybe not that drastic, Harrison was a hard fucker to get rid of, he knew that no matter what he would hang on but it felt like he had already lost him.

He couldn't get the images out of his head, the flashes of red, screams pounding in his ear. But the sight of her standing above his best friend, gun in hand, ready to fire. The thought alone made his go feral.

And he hated that, he hated that she knew how to get under his skin so easily. After getting so close, to not just him but his close family, his friends, to you. He could already picture the hurt that would spread across your face when he would tell you. You both valued close bonds with people, building that relationship to something reliable, something worth trusting.

So when that trust was broken, all hell broke loose.

“I’m sure you’ll do just a fine job at that,” he muttered, standing back straight up, “And the moment you do I’ll put a bullet between your eyes,”

“Oh we both know you couldn't do that Tommy,” she smirked, “Not when I have so much valuable information that you so desperately need,”

Tom chuckled, picking up a syringe filled with a light blue liquid. His fingers flicked the cover before taking it fully off, revealing the needle to the open air, “Yeah, we’ll see about that,” he turned back around to face her, his face void of emotion, “Gag her,”

Him and his men had spent the next, god knows how long trying countless methods and tactics they always used to get people like her to talk. But nothing worked, even after repeatedly taking out the gag, waiting for the answers they had been searching for, she didn't budge.

She stayed completely stoic.

Tom tried his best to keep calm, unbuttoning the top of his shirt when his breath became restraint with the added pressure to around his neck

“It wouldn't matter anyways,” she sniffed, finally calming down while spitting out a wad of blood from her mouth, “I’ve already gotten what I wanted,”

“What the fuck is that suppose too mean,” Tom said exasperatedly.

“It means-,” she interrupted herself while trying to stop the sick laughter threatening to erupt from her throat, “I never thought you cared so much about me Tommy, to spend so long with me when-,” she tilted her head to the side, “You have a wife at home don’t you?”

Tom felt his heart stop, “What did you do?”

“Might want to check that little wifey of yours Tommy,” she cackled, blood splattering from her mouth, staining the collar of her shirt and the floor in front of her, “Who knows how much time she might have left!”

“WHAT! The fuck! Did you do!” He screamed, clutching her bloody shirt in his fists, not caring if some of the liquid transferred to his already red hands.

“You left me alone, with Y/n, for months,” she giggled, “What do you think I did?”

“If you hurt her-,”

“You’ve already done your worst to me Holland,” the grin settling on her face became unsettling, “Now it’s my turn to watch you suffer,”

Tom didn't want to question her further. He didn't want his temper to take over the little control he tried to maintain over his mind. With a short gruff he pulled away from the woman, walking over to one of his men stationed by the door of the warehouse.

“Break her legs and take her to the hut, prepare the call and get Dr brown on the phone and tell Sam to get to Y/n as soon as possible,” he whispered under his breath, “Take me back home to my wife,”

...

“Good Girl,” you yawned, lazily scratching the top of Tessa’s head. It had been a chill day for you in the mansion, lounging around in your husband's clothes while you decorated your section of the building, preparing for the holidays. Tom insisted on getting decorators, knowing how clumsy you were, he didn't want you to hurt yourself. At least that’s the excuse he told you, you knew it was because he didn't want you doing any work on your holidays.

Nevertheless, you were proud of the work you’ve done, the lights strung along your bedroom walls illuminating the room, making your placement by the window feel more cozy than usual. And with the addition of the cutest dog and a mug of ginger tea, staring out into the snowy garden never felt more calming. The only thing that would make this better is to be cuddled with your personal teddy bear, but your prayers were answered when he called unexpectedly.

“Hi Tommy,” you answered sweetly, gulping down a good bit of the tea,“What’s wrong? I thought you were busy with work?”

“Y/n?” Tom said seriously, a hard edge to his voice you never heard when he talked directly to you, “Y/n, you need to listen to me right now, okay?”

“Okay,” you sat up, throwing your blanket off your lap, “Okay, yeah,” you learnt not to question things like these with Tom’s line of work.

“Where are you right now?” you could hear the click of his shoes hitting the floor in the background, the sound of the vehicle's engines vroomed to life.

“I’m in our bedroom, with Tessa,” you answered quickly, squinting your eyes when you watched her body bounce away when your hand retracted from her fur, “Well just me now,”

“You’re going to need to go to the medic bay, Doctor Brown will be there and he’ll explain everything,” a car door slammed shut, “Sam is coming to escort you, just,” he let out a deep breath, “Are you alright?”

You melted at the crack in his voice, clearing your throat before answering him, “I’m fine Tommy, never felt better,”

“Are you sure love?” he whispered, his voice losing its harsh tone, falling back to the soft, breathy one you grow to love.

“I’m-,” you moved away from the phone, coughing into your sleeve, “Sorry, uh, yeah I’m fine Tom,”

“It doesn’t sound like you’re okay to me,”

“I-,” you coughed again, this time more violently that the last, “It’s just a cough, probably from that food truck we went out to last night,” you forced a chuckle, trying to keep the air as light hearted as possible.

“A cough? When did this start,” Tom said urgently.

“Uh, this morning i think?” you sniffled, shuffling around to find a tissue box for your sudden runny nose, “I’m sure it’s just a bug Tommy,”

“Y/n, Is Sam there yet?”

“I didn’t hear him no,” your coughing continued, “Do you want me to go outside to check?”

“No, no, stay until he comes, I don’t want you going by yourself,”

Tom’s words began to blur when you took note of the red sploshing your white hoodie. You ran to the bathroom, cursing at the blood trailing from your nose, staining the bottom half of your face.

Your raging coughs continued, splattering droplets across the marble counter

“Love? Are you still there?” Tom said panicked, “Sam said he’s moving as quick as he can,”

“Tommy,” you whimpered, your hand clutching your chest in pain, “I-,” you braced yourself against the counter, feeling weaker and weaker, “Tommy, I don’t-,”you grabbed at your closing throat, “I don’t feel so good,”

“Love? Y/n?” Tom said frantically, “Hey, hey, hey, listen to me, Sam is almost there, I’m so close to our house, hang in there okay?” he debated his next words, “You’ve been poisoned okay? You’ve been poisoned and if you get the help in time you will get better, just,” his voice hitched, “Please don’t go,”

Your throat burned as your breath started to become short, hiccupy wheezes. Blood began to drip from your nose and mouth onto the tiled floor. You could feel your chest tighten, your heart physically hurting until you couldn't take in any longer.

“Tom-my?” you managed to let out before collapsing on the floor, the shouts of your name echoing in the back of your ear before blackness covered your eyesight, followed by a bright, white light.

...

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80srichie · 3 years

Text

just a bet, part 9

30 days remaining

Richie woke up to his phone ringing with a start. It was Eddie calling him. He missed the answer button a few times since he wasn’t wearing his glasses. “Hello?”

“Richie! Good morning.” Eddie was talking cheerfully.

“What time is it?” Richie asked, rolling over on his bed to grab his glasses off his nightstand.

“11 A.M.” Eddie replied, then paused. “Did I wake you?”

Richie snickered a little. “Yes.”

“Well, good, you should be up anyway. I was wondering if you wanted to hang out today? My mom is visiting her sister.”

Richie paused for a moment, stretching out his arms and legs. “Well, toots, I’d be delighted.”

Eddie laughed a little. “Okay, well, get over here after you shower and all that. Please brush your teeth, Rich.”

Richie pouted, even though Eddie couldn’t see him. “Are you implying my breath stinks?”

Eddie laughed again. “Yes. See you soon.”

Richie heard the telltale beeps of an ended call and he put his phone down. He stretched again, finally standing up out of bed. He grabbed a new pair of boxers and headed into the bathroom to shower. Richie more than thoroughly washed his body, purely for the sake of Eddie, and brushed his teeth afterward. He threw on a shirt and some pants, not bothering to make his hair look presentable. He was out the door within the hour Eddie called him.

When Richie arrived, Eddie had already opened the door and was ushering him inside. Eddie seemed very upbeat and excited. “What’s going on with you, huh? Excited to see me or something?” Richie teased.

Eddie smiled. “You could say that. I was making lunch and I got a perfect idea and you get to taste test it!”

Richie raised his eyebrows. “Oh, really? You can’t taste it yourself?”

Eddie frowned a little. “I can! I just want another opinion, asshole.”

Richie smiled, nudging him with his shoulder and bringing him close to him. “I will try anything you make for me, Eds.” He paused, “even your.. bodily fluids…”

Eddie shoved Richie off of him. “You are disgusting and I hate you. I thought you were being sweet.”

Richie scoffed, feigning hurt. “I was Eddie Spaghetti. That was endearing.”

Eddie made a face. “Your definition of endearing is very wrong.” He turned back to the stove, grabbing a wooden spoon and stirring something in a metal pot. “Anyway, come here. I want you to try this.”

Richie leaned over Eddie to peer into the pot, a red sauce lightly simmering. Richie took the wooden spoon from him and sipped a little sauce off the utensil. It was a sweet and spicy tomato sauce. “That’s good, Eds! What is it for?”

Eddie smiled and took the lid and placed it back on the pot, turning the heat on the stovetop down. “Ironically, spaghetti. Unless you’d rather have a rotini or penne pasta, that’s an option too. I didn’t know what pasta shape you liked but thinking about it now, it probably would be something like a bowtie.”

Richie chuckled. “I appreciate the consideration you took into my pasta shape preference, but honestly, I’ll eat anything.”

Eddie rolled his eyes. “I know that Richie, you eat everything. I just want you to actually like it.” He put another pot on the stove with water in it, turning on the other stovetop to boil the water.

Richie smiled, feeling his heart swell with affection. “You’re going to be the death of me.” He paused for a few moments, before continuing. “Of food poisoning, of course.”

Eddie groaned as he put the box of spaghetti noodles on the counter to await the other pot to boil. “You can’t just compliment me normally, can you?” He turned, staring at Richie with a small grin on his lips. “You’re the worst.”

Richie smiled widely, reaching forward and pulling Eddie towards him by his hips. Their height difference was clearer this way and it was Richie’s favorite. Being able to look down on Eddie and see his innocent brown eyes stare back up at him - it was heavenly. “Eddie…” He started, wetting his strangely dry lips. “Can I kiss you?”

Eddie bit his bottom lip to cry and contain the smile that yeared to appear. “Depends, did you brush your teeth as I asked?”

Richie chuckled, already leaning down to meet Eddie halfway, mumbling out a yes that was muffled by their lips connecting. They fit together seamlessly. Both of them had wordlessly learned each other’s favorite ways to kiss and it never ceased to amaze Richie just how easily their lips fit together. Their first kiss was messy and off-kilter, but every one after that continued to get better and better.

Eddie pulled back after a moment, staring up into Richie’s eyes before taking his hand and sliding it up the back of his neck. Eddie’s hand tangled into Richie’s unruly curls and gently tugged, pulling him back down for a deeper kiss. Eddie had gotten increasingly more forward as time went on and as they both got more comfortable with each other. Richie loved it.

The two of them spent a good few minutes kissing before Eddie, lips a bit swollen, pulled back and detached himself from Richie. “I have to put the pasta in the water.”

Richie made a noise of dissatisfaction but let him go, watching as he dumped the entire box of noodles into the now boiling water. The meal itself was done not soon after, two bowls of perfectly sauced and portioned spaghetti sitting in front of the both of them. They ate in comfortable silence before Richie spoke up. “Hey, Eds, I have a game tomorrow. You’re coming, right?”

Eddie smiled softly, wiping off his mouth with his napkin and setting his fork in his empty bowl. “If you’d like me to.”

Richie nodded. “Of course, I love seeing you in the stands. I always play better knowing a hot guy is watching me.”

Eddie narrowed his eyes and stood, picking up his bowl and taking Richie’s as well.

“Hey! I wasn’t done.” Richie protested.

Eddie laughed a bit. “I know, dickhead. I’ll put the leftovers in a container but my Mom will be home soon, so…” He trailed off, letting Richie fill in the rest on his own. He watched as Eddie put the extra spaghetti in a Tupperware and closed the lid, handing it back when he was done.

Richie took it from him with a smile. “You’re practically my perfect housewife. House… husband?”

Eddie blinked at him, intentionally not playing into his joke. “Uh-huh... Okay, bye, Rich.” He ushered him to the front door and left him outside with a peck to his lips. Once Richie got home, he checked his phone for the first time since that morning and noticed he had multiple texts from Stan, as well as a missed call. He pushed Stan’s number and held it up to his ear. It only rang a few times before Stan picked up with a sigh. “Why didn’t you answer my texts?”

Richie shrugged, laying down on his back on his bed. “I was with Eddie. Why? What’s going on?”

Stan paused for a few seconds. “I wanted to talk about Eddie, actually.”

Richie sat up, looking at the ground in confusion. “Why?” He could hear Stan talking to someone in the background, as well as some shuffling before Stan spoke again.

“I think this has gone too far. The bet.”

Richie scoffed. “I did try to say that like, a month ago, Stan. Why are you bringing it up now?”

Stan sighed again. “You’re going to hurt him if you continue with this and you know it. It’s not fair to him, or you, for that matter.”

Richie took a moment to process what Stan was saying. “Stan, I don’t know if I haven’t made it clear enough, but I like him for real. Like, seriously, genuinely have feelings for him.” The line was uncomfortably silent. “Stan?”

“Okay. How are you going to tell him why you went after him in the first place?”

Richie frowned. “I don’t fuckin’ know! Unless you have an idea, I have no intention of telling him until it’s on my deathbed.”

Stan exhaled dejectedly. “You have to at some point.” He pointed out.

“I know,” Richie groaned. “I know and I will, so, just let me deal with it. Why did you call me anyway?”

Stan clicked his tongue against the back of his teeth. “No reason, I suppose. Is he going to be at the game tomorrow?”

“Yes.”

“Okay,” Stan said and took a few beats before continuing. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then.” Without another word, Stan hung up the phone, the line going to dead static on Richie’s end. He pulled the phone back from his ear and stared at the screen, frowning.

The night of Richie’s soccer game was uncharacteristically chilly, most patrons wearing hoodies or light jackets to cover themselves from the cold. It was nearing the end of Fall and the Fall soccer season, so Eddie came prepared. He stood among the rest of the audience in the stands, his hands balled up inside the sleeves of his hoodie and tucked into the front pocket to keep warm. He was rocking back and forth on his heels, watching the soccer game in front of him. Since he had started dating Richie, the rules of soccer started to make more sense. He could easily name the different positions and even knew some of the penalties and why they were called. Half-time had just been called when he felt someone tap him on his shoulder. Eddie turned, a bit startled. “Oh, sorry, hi, Bill. You scared me.”

Bill offered him a friendly smile. “H-Hey, Eddie, can we talk real quick?” He jutted his thumb over his shoulder to a grassy area beside the bleachers that was mostly empty, apart from a man and his dog.

Eddie glanced back at the game and nodded. “Yeah, sure, I just wanna get back before the game starts back up.”

Bill nodded in agreement, leading Eddie down to the area he had pointed to, the man and his dog moved on from the area, leaving the two of them alone. “So, um, what’s up?” Eddie asked, bouncing on his feet to keep himself warm.

Bill wrung his hands together anxiously and Eddie waited patiently with a confused smile on his face. “You okay?” He eventually asked.

Bill nodded. “Yeah, I juh-just don’t know how to p-phrase it.” He let out a long sigh before talking again. “I… I like you, E-Eddie.”

Eddie’s friendly smile dropped from his face, hating the way his stomach clenched uncomfortably. “Um…”

Bill continued before Eddie had the chance to talk. “I h-have for a good wh-while, too.”

Eddie managed to crack an uneasy grin. “Uh, Bill…” He laughed awkwardly. “You... Why are you telling me this?”

Bill frowned. “Because I wa-wanted you to know, a-and I think y-you deserve better than Richie.”

It was Eddie’s turn to frown now. “I don’t think you have a say in that.” He mumbled, taking a step back towards the stands. “If that’s all, I’m going to-”

“Wait!” Bill reached out, grabbing Eddie’s arm.

Eddie gently pulled back from his touch. “Sorry, Bill, I have to get back to wa-”

Bill grimaced. “No! There’s something you need to know.” When Eddie made no move to leave, Bill sighed and spoke. “Richie never liked you.”

Eddie laughed. “Okay, Bill, seriously? We have been together for a good few weeks, I would know if-”

“He’s dating you because of a bet, Eddie!” Bill exploded. “It was Beverly’s idea and Stan knows about it too - He hasn’t told you yet because you guys haven’t slept together and that was part of the deal.”

Eddie’s movements faltered, his body growing colder as Bill spoke. “What?” He asked, shaking his head. “No, you’re making that up. He told me the bet Beverly was talking about had to-”

“-do with Stan. He lied. She was talking about you, Eddie, she always was. Richie’s been lying.”

Eddie let out a shaky breath, turning his back to Bill and facing the field. He could see Richie jogging towards them and he felt like he couldn’t breathe. “No… You have to be lying.”

Richie approached them, smiling at Eddie. His smile faltered, though, when he saw the look on his face. “Eds? Bill? What’s going on?”

Eddie felt his tears prick with tears. “Tell me he’s lying, Richie. Tell me right now.”

Richie was alarmed. “Lying about what?” He turned to Bill. “What did you tell him?” He demanded.

Bill stood his ground. “The truth.”

Eddie was staring at Richie, his eyes burning from oncoming tears. “Did you date me… Are you dating me, for a fucking bet, Richie? You told me Beverly was talking about you and Stan.”

Richie’s face fell, his heart twisting painfully in his chest. “Eds-”

“Tell me!” Eddie cried, reaching out and grabbing a fistful of Richie’s jersey and shaking him a bit. “Tell me right now.”

Richie could feel his entire life fading in front of him. “You have to let me explain.”

Eddie abruptly dropped his hold on Richie’s jersey and took a step back, tears finally finding their way out of Eddie’s eyes and rolling down his cheeks. “You promised me, Richie.”

Richie tried to close the gap between them, but Eddie pushed him away. “Don’t!”

Richie couldn’t breathe, his world was spinning anxiously around him. He felt like he could get sick right here. “Eddie, please, let me explain. It will make sense, I promise, none of this was fake!”

Eddie scoffed, using his sleeve to wipe away the tears pilling under his eyelashes. “You’re so full of shit. I can’t believe I trusted you, you stupid fucking asshole.” Eddie’s voice was laced with malice and regret; It made Richie’s heart hurt more. Bill made a move towards Eddie, and he backed up from him as well. “I don’t want to fucking talk to you, either.” He threatened, sniffing and glaring at Richie. “If it wasn’t clear, do not ever fucking call me, text me, speak to me again.” With that, Eddie was gone, disappearing around the backside of the bleachers and into the poorly lit school parking lot.

Richie stood there, shocked and heartbroken, before turning to Bill. “What the fuck did you do?” He asked angrily, moving towards him.

“I-I told him the truth!” Bill said, backing up a bit. “He d-deserves better than you, R-Richie, and you know it!”

Richie pushed Bill harshly by his shoulders. It all clicked. “Oh, and you’re much better?” He pushed him again, Bill falling into the wired fence behind him. “You are a selfish fucking prick, Denbrough, and I’ll make sure everyone fucking knows.”

Bill stood there, leaning against the fence. “Everyone already thinks you are, Richie.” He said, pushing past him to leave, heading the same way Eddie had gone.

Richie stood alone in the grassy area, attempting to calm his rapid thoughts of anger. Bill told Eddie and Eddie believed him and now he was gone. Richie knew he needed to tell Eddie himself but he couldn’t find any time that would have gone better.

Someone approached Richie from behind, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Richie?” It was Stan.

Richie pulled away from his touch. “It was your idea, wasn’t it?”

Stan blinked in surprise. “What?”

“Bill telling Eddie! It was you, wasn’t it? You put the thought in Bill’s head so he would end this stupid bet!”

Stan frowned. “Bill did what? Eddie knows?”

“Yes!” Richie cried. “Eddie fucking knows! Do you see him here, Stan, huh?”

Stan grimaced at Richie’s yelling. “I didn’t tell Bill to do anything. He had a crush on Eddie-”

“Isn’t that fucking sweet,” Richie mumbled, moving past Stan to chase after Eddie. He was going to make things right, he was going to explain himself.

“What about the game?” Stan asked and Richie nearly exploded.

“I don’t give a fuck about anything but Eddie right now, Stan! Isn’t that obvious?”

Stan nodded his head. “Just tell the truth. Tell him how you’ve always felt, Richie, he needs words.”

Richie stared at him for a few beats, before turning to walk away without another word.

30 days remaining

Richie woke up to his phone ringing with a start. It was Eddie calling him. He missed the answer button a few times since he wasn’t wearing his glasses. “Hello?”

“Richie! Good morning.” Eddie was talking cheerfully.

“What time is it?” Richie asked, rolling over on his bed to grab his glasses off his nightstand.

“11 A.M.” Eddie replied, then paused. “Did I wake you?”

Richie snickered a little. “Yes.”

“Well, good, you should be up anyway. I was wondering if you wanted to hang out today? My mom is visiting her sister.”

Richie paused for a moment, stretching out his arms and legs. “Well, toots, I’d be delighted.”

Eddie laughed a little. “Okay, well, get over here after you shower and all that. Please brush your teeth, Rich.”

Richie pouted, even though Eddie couldn’t see him. “Are you implying my breath stinks?”

Eddie laughed again. “Yes. See you soon.”

Richie heard the telltale beeps of an ended call and he put his phone down. He stretched again, finally standing up out of bed. He grabbed a new pair of boxers and headed into the bathroom to shower. Richie more than thoroughly washed his body, purely for the sake of Eddie, and brushed his teeth afterwards. He threw on a shirt and some pants, not bothering to make his hair look presentable. He was out the door within the hour Eddie called him.

When Richie arrived, Eddie had already opened the door and was ushering him inside. Eddie seemed very up-beat and excited. “What’s going on with you, huh? Excited to see me or something?” Richie teased.

Eddie smiled. “You could say that. I was making lunch and I got the perfect idea and you get to taste test it!”

Richie raised his eyebrows. “Oh, really? You can’t taste it yourself?”

Eddie frowned a little. “I can! I just want another opinion, asshole.”

Richie smiled, nudging him with his shoulder and bringing him close to him. “I will try anything you make for me, Eds.” He paused, “even your.. bodily fluids…”

Eddie shoved Richie off of him. “You are disgusting and I hate you. I thought you were being sweet.”

Richie scoffed, feigning hurt. “I was Eddie Spaghetti. That was endearing.”

Eddie smiled and took the lid and placed it back on the pot, turning the heat on the stovetop down. “Ironically, spaghetti. Unless you’d rather have a rotini or penne pasta, that’s an option too. I didn’t know what pasta shape you liked, but thinking about it now, it probably would be something like a bowtie.”

Richie chuckled. “I appreciate the consideration you took into my pasta shape preference, but honestly, I’ll eat anything.”

Eddie rolled his eyes. “I know that, Richie, you eat everything. I just want you to actually like it.” He put another pot on the stove with water in it, turning on the other stovetop to boil the water.

Richie smiled, feeling his heart swell with affection. “You’re going to be the death of me.” He paused for a few moments, before continuing. “Of food poisoning, of course.”

Eddie bit his bottom lip to cry and contain the smile that yeared to appear. “Depends, did you brush your teeth like I asked?”

The two of them spent a good few minutes kissing before Eddie, lips a bit swollen, pulled back and detached himself from Richie. “I have to put the pasta in the water.”

Richie made a noise of dissatisfaction but let him go, watching as he dumped the entire box of noodles into the now boiling water. The meal itself was done not soon after, two bowls of perfectly sauced and portioned spaghetti sitting in front of the both of them. They ate in a comfortable silence, before Richie spoke up. “Hey, Eds, I have a game tomorrow. You’re coming, right?”

Eddie smiled softly, wiping off his mouth with his napkin and setting his fork in his empty bowl. “If you’d like me to.”

Richie nodded. “Of course, I love seeing you in the stands. I always play better knowing a hot guy is watching me.”

Eddie narrowed his eyes and stood, picking up his bowl and taking Richie’s as well.

“Hey! I wasn’t done.” Richie protested.

Richie took it from him with a smile. “You’re practically my perfect housewife. House… husband?”

Eddie blinked at him, intentionally not playing into his joke. “Uh huh.. Okay, bye, Rich.” He ushered him to the front door and left him outside with a peck to his lips. Once Richie got home, he checked his phone for the first time since that morning and noticed he had multiple texts from Stan, as well as a missed call. He pushed Stan’s number and held it up to his ear. It only rang a few times before Stan picked up with a sigh. “Why didn’t you answer my texts?”

Richie shrugged, laying down on his back on his bed. “I was with Eddie. Why? What’s going on?”

Stan paused for a few seconds. “I wanted to talk about Eddie, actually.”

Richie sat up, looking at the ground in confusion. “Why?” He could hear Stan talking to someone in the background, as well as some shuffling, before Stan spoke again.

“I think this has gone too far. The bet.”

Richie scoffed. “I did try to say that like, a month ago, Stan. Why are you bringing it up now?”

Stan sighed again. “You’re going to hurt him if you continue with this and you know it. It’s not fair to him, or you, for that matter.”

“Okay. How are you going to tell him why you went after him in the first place?”

Richie frowned. “I don’t fuckin’ know! Unless you have an idea, I have no intention of telling him until it’s on my deathbed.”

Stan exhaled dejectedly. “You have to at some point.” He pointed out.

“I know,” Richie groaned. “I know and I will, so, just let me deal with it. Why did you call me anyways?”

Stan clicked his tongue against the back of his teeth. “No reason, I suppose. Is he going to be at the game tomorrow?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.” Stan said and took a few beats before continuing. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then.” Without another word, Stan hung up the phone, the line going to dead static on Richie’s end. He pulled the phone back from his ear and stared at the screen, frowning.

Bill offered him a friendly smile. “H-Hey, Eddie, can we talk really quick?” He jutted his thumb over his shoulder to a grassy area beside the bleachers that was mostly empty, apart from a man and his dog.

Eddie glanced back at the game and nodded. “Yeah, sure, I just wanna get back before the game starts back up.”

Bill wrung his hands together anxiously and Eddie waited patiently with a confused smile on his face. “You okay?” He eventually asked.

Bill nodded. “Yeah, I juh-just don’t know how to p-phrase it.” He let out a long sigh before talking again. “I… I like you, E-Eddie.”

Eddie’s friendly smile dropped from his face, hating the way his stomach clenched uncomfortably. “Um…”

Bill continued before Eddie had the chance to talk. “I h-have for a good wh-while, too.”

Eddie managed to crack an uneasy grin. “Uh, Bill…” He laughed awkwardly. “You.. Why are you telling me this?”