#I told my friend about a shitty memory but that doesn’t usually affect my mood long term

[insanechayne]

~ ~ ~

[youwerenevermeanttofeelalone]

Loved By You | Damian Wayne • Tim Drake

Pairing: Older!Damian Wayne x Plus Size Reader, Tim Drake x Plus Size Reader

Word Count: 2.8k

Request: Tim and Damian were in love with the reader, they were rivals. The reader who didn't know about this rivalry started dating Tim while seeing Damian as a friend. Damian kisses the reader who thought it was Tim, Tim discovers this and feels a certain fetish about it, and Damian and Tim make a deal where they keep switching places. When the reader finds out and gets angry, the two boys want her to choose one of them.

Warnings: love triangle, mentions of cheating, kissing, light angst, fluff.

A/N: the ending was also requested.

❖︎・・・・・❖︎・・・・・❖︎・・・・・❖︎

Tim’s kisses lately felt different from the other. He’d be more passionate on some occasions, usually at night when he came back from patrol. You liked to feel the difference, it made some shows of affection more special.

Like that night you stayed at Wayne Manor, waiting for him to come back safe. He had hugged you so tightly, his scent so strong due to his very recent shower that it lingered on your pajama — his kiss had been heavy, the most passionate he had given you. And since then, he kept it up.

You had asked what was going on with him, worried that there was something he hadn’t told you. He assured you everything was more than fine, hugging you from behind as you laid in bed. He had never been one for being the big spoon every single night but you weren’t complaining.

Scanning the room as you walked beside Tim with your arm intertwined with his, you smiled at Damian from afar when your eyes landed on his green ones. He nodded cordially, in the same fashion he did while in public. You would’ve taken issue with the cold gesture if you didn’t know him so well. Your boyfriend sighed, but before you could ask what was wrong someone came to introduce themselves.

Galas bored you, the family you were so attached to had to act in ways you weren’t used to seeing them. You didn’t like it, it almost saddened you how much they had to fake and repress for the sake of the city — and the world to an extent.

You got so distracted by Dick’s dance moves that you didn’t feel Tim slipping his arm off yours. You reacted when Alfred hurried down the main hallway, away from the reception and turned left on the second door.

Following Alfred’s steps, the yelling from behind the door caught your attention. Well, the voices. You closed the door behind you. Damian and Tim were yelling on each other’s faces, Damian’s startling sharp gaze filled with anger.

You seemed to be the only shocked person, Alfred was trying to interfere with so much calmness, as if he had done it thousands of times, that you grew worried. Had your boyfriend and best friend been fighting on a regular basis?

Both turned to look at you apologetically. You stared at Tim, then at Damian. “What is the matter with you two?”

Tim stuttered, “nothing, it was nothing.”

Damian scoffed, tutting in that way he did when exasperated. Seeing you focus on him, he dropped his arms to his sides. “There’s something you need to be aware of.”

Tim stiffened, his head snapping to glare at his younger brother. “Damian,” he warned.

“Tell me,” you demanded to know what they were talking about.

Damian stared at Tim, waiting for him to speak first. Tim, knowing he was the one responsible for all of this swallowed harshly. Alfred seemed to realize he wasn’t wanted and scurried out of the room and back into the reception.

“A month ago,” your best friend started explaining when Tim didn’t speak quickly enough, “no. A month and a week with two days, almost three, ago—“ Tim groaned, but Damian didn’t give him the word, “I kissed you. You thought I was Drake, and I didn’t say anything to deny nor confirm.” A sound in the back of your throat came out before you could even open your mouth to reproach him. Damian used it to his advantage to continue explaining, “he found out and let me know he was more than fine with it.”

Your head whirled in your boyfriend’s direction who nodded, “it was hot, I liked seeing you kiss someone else.”

“And why didn’t you tell me then?! What part of it was so fucking hard to articulate?” Tim lowered his eyes to the floor, prompting you to glare at Damian. Your best friend didn’t shy away from your eyes. “And you?”

Damian did answer. “You would’ve chosen him again, why bother?”

“Because I deserved to know. You said it so earlier, for goodness sake!”

“Well, I didn’t think it would go that far!” Damian excused himself at the same time you were speaking.

“And why did you let it, Damian?”

“Because I fucking wanted it to!”

Tim wasn’t shocked by Damian’s confession, your boyfriend simply waited for your reaction. You didn’t react, you weren’t sure what to say or if you should say anything at all.

However, you asked, “Is that why you were fighting?”

Tim explained, “Damian knows he shouldn’t stare at you like that in public.”

You tilted your head to your right. Damian had always stared at you in the same way, no matter the setting. In fact, the two of you instantly found each other in any crowd every time. It was an unspoken rule between the two of you, it kept him grounded and lessened your nerves— it was a comfort, a fundamental part of your friendship.

Without realizing it, you did just that. Damian’s green eyes told you everything you wanted to know, slowing down his blinking for you to get his point across. The intensity of his gaze was new, the twitch of his brow so unusual in your presence.

Damian saw it on your face, the realization of how deep his feelings for you were. He didn’t try to hide them, not anymore. It was liberating, nodding as he followed your shifty eyes that couldn’t stop examining every inch of his face.

“Now that you know,” Tim grabbed your attention, “we can stop this, but you need to choose.”

You immediately found it unfair when you hadn’t decided to be in such a situation.

“You two should go back to the party,” you reacted, hoping they wouldn’t object so you could be alone with your thoughts.

Tim frowned whereas Damian nodded curtly, emerald eyes lingering on your face for a few seconds before he fixed his suit and turned around to leave the room.

“Why?” Tim inquired, “you don’t care about galas.”

“I want to be alone,” you deadpanned. He was playing dumb which you found endearing when you were in a good mood but shitty and annoying in that situation.

“Baby,” he cooed, placing his palms on your shoulders, “you don’t have to worry. Damian will understand,”

You moved away from his touch. “Understand what?”

He spoke as you walked toward a cushioned chair, “that you don’t love him.”

“Don’t I?” you inquired, craning your neck to face your boyfriend.

“Do you?”

Shrugging, you reminded him, “I made out and cuddled with him for a month. Yes, I thought it was you but now I know the truth and the truth doesn’t change the fact that I enjoyed it.”

Tim wriggled his tie out of frustration. “You can’t love two people that way, and he’s my brother.”

“Your brother who you fight over everything from what I see.” Reclining against the back of the chair you placed your hands on the seat’s arms, “why didn’t you tell me it turned you on? We could’ve tried something, I guess...”

“I didn’t want to get cucked. And Damian surprisingly followed the rules of just kissing and cuddling you.”

The fault in Tim’s logic and plan was glaringly obvious, it didn’t please you but you weren’t going to lie and say you could still choose him in a heartbeat.

“Where did you sleep while I slept next to your brother? Here?”

Your boyfriend shook his head. “At Conner’s.”

“Really, Timothy?” you chuckled bitterly, “at Conner’s from all people?”

“You love Conner!” he tried to defend himself.

You sprung up from the chair. “I do! But come on Tim... what are we doing?” You hadn’t wanted to speak about it with a hot head, you wanted to think this through at your pace. Fuck it. “Have we been emotionally cheating on each other?”

“I’m not—“ he shook his head, rubbing his hands against his face. “Are you telling me you’re choosing Damian?”

“Don’t deflect, please.”

“I don’t know,” Tim confessed, “maybe? I lost control of it.”

You supposed you would’ve lost control of it too. It would’ve been nice to have control in the first place,

❖︎・・・・・❖︎・・・・・❖︎・・・・・❖︎

You couldn’t find him anywhere, the garden was his favorite spot to lose time when galas took place but you only found a couple making out near Alfred’s roses.

Trotting up the stairs as quickly as you could in high heels had been tricky. He seemed to hear you, by the time you reached his bedroom door it had cracked open already. You still knocked, sticking your head into the room to ask if you could come in. He beckoned you in, avoiding your eyes when you closed the door behind you.

You couldn’t stop staring, his hair was disheveled from tugging on it and he had discarded his tie and blazer but hadn’t bothered on changing into more comfortable clothing.

“Were you going to tell me?” you broke the silence. He shook his head. “Why not?”

“You made your choice a long time ago.”

“It wasn’t a choice.”

Damian scoffed, “you picked him and started dating him.”

You set your jaw, “I didn’t know. It was not a choice because there weren’t options to pick from.” It sounded awful, but you were sure he had understood what you meant.

“I tried to make you fall for me,” he recalled, “but you were busy seeing whatever it is you like about Drake.”

You never saw it. It wasn’t anyone’s fault, yet you felt a slight pang on your chest as a few memories came to you. Your connection with Damian had been instant and therefore special from the get-go, you wouldn’t have identified it as attraction in any other instance.

You wouldn’t even think of yourself as his type, no one imagined Damian with anyone who wasn’t a fit model or a badass superhero. You were clearly none of those, and now as you mulled it over you realized how much sense it all made.

“Why did you kiss me?”

“I wanted to know how it felt.”

You hummed, “you could’ve asked me for a kiss.”

“I wanted to know how it felt to be loved by you,” Damian clarified.

You had been there in very important moments of his life, when Alfred scolded him for his language for the first time, when he got his second Ph.D., when Dick died, when Bruce died, when Jon went to another reality, when he trained Titus, the day he officially got his driver’s license, the third time he fought his mother... you had gotten him hooked on your favorite tv-series and he had to feign hating it at first to not look pathetic, the two of you cried out of laughter when he told you.

He wanted you to be there in other ways, for firsts and lasts. He wanted to be grounded by taking your hand in social events instead of staring at you from afar, to get back from patrol and see you asleep on his bed, to be the one you pampered by playing with their hair. Damian wished he could lay his head on your lap on movie nights, take you out on dates even though he had never been a fan. He had fantasized with so many things, romantic and sexual, a few a combination of both due to the nature of his feelings.

“I do love you,” you stated. “All of this is overwhelming, but no matter the outcome I need you to get through your head that I do.”

❖︎・・・・・❖︎・・・・・❖︎・・・・・❖︎

Tired of staring at the window, you sat up on the bed with your back against the headboard. The past week had been a roller coaster of emotions and dilemmas with sleepless nights in between.

You had seen his silhouette on the fire escape every night, but neither one of you had attempted to speak. You had hoped he would that night, he must’ve known how things had gone with his brother already.

Playing with the edge of the fuzzy blanket, you got the sensation of being watched. He was there again. Your gut told you to get out of the bed and confront him, yet you were aware that if he had wanted to speak he would’ve entered the room already. The window wasn’t difficult to open from the outside, he himself had pointed it out in more than one occasion — and even if it was, you had left it unlocked in case he wanted to come in. You were sure he knew that, too.

You did leave the bed in direction to the kitchen, the night was being the warmest of the week but you were cold still. As the kettle boiled you considered inviting him in, at least to warm up a little bit. You waited impatiently for the water to be ready, swinging your hips from left to right.

The clear water turned murky as soon as the herbs came in contact with it under your eyes. You carried the tea back to your bedroom, closing the door with your foot.

“What are you doing up?”

The question startled you, making you jump and consequently spill the hot liquid. “What the fuck is wrong with you, Damian?!” you shrilled.

“You knew I was there,” he pointed out matter-of-factly, extending an arm to turn the lights on. His tone changed, “did you hurt yourself?”

Shaking your head, you put down the ceramic in your grasp. He smirked to himself, seeing you had been carrying two cups and not one. “Not badly,” you answered, looking down at your now stained shirt.

“I’ll prepare some more while you change” he announced, his hand brushing your arm as he stretched his own to reach for the cups.

Throwing the dirty shirt into the laundry basket once you had changed into a clean one, you walked out of the bathroom and directly toward the window. The room had gotten colder due to Damian not closing the window when he sneaked in.

You got distracted by the light reflecting on the pavement, the simplicity of the observation amazing you when you lived in a chaotic city. Getting lost into the complications of what being a Gothamite entailed was so easy that you had forgotten to enjoy the trivialities the city had to offer.

Damian stood behind you, looking outside to get a glimpse of what you were so interested on. The familiar position made you unconsciously lean backward, prompting him to lightly lay a hand on your hip out of reflex.

He inhaled the scent of your lotion, the one that had lulled him to sleep for a month, the one he had missed the entire week. You craned your neck to look at him.

The tea would get cold if you didn’t drink it soon, yet you couldn’t bring yourself to say anything about it. You didn’t want to move, to lose the comfort of his chest against your back nor the tickling warmth of his breath on your face.

Your eyes shifted to his lips. You still found weird to know you had kissed him without being aware it was him— you also missed kissing him. It had been the cataclysmic realization that ultimately drove you to make your choice.

“Can I kiss you?” You whispered very timidly, afraid he’d say no.

Damian leaned forward, his free hand coming up to rest on the side of your neck. With his thumb on your cheek, he nodded and waited for you to close the gap.

You wetted your lips, breathing a laugh almost on top of his. You felt him chuckle and part his mouth, impatient for you to kiss him already. You took him out of his misery, slowly moving your lips against his at first. Chastely kissing him, you turned your body around to not hurt your neck. Damian pulled you closer by snaking his arm around your hips, his thumb digging into the side of your face as he deepened the kiss.

Damian grunted, tilting his head to change the angle and be able to kiss you the way he wanted. Fisting his hoodie when he swiped his tongue across your bottom lip, you parted your lips.

Both of you panted when you pulled away, his arm tight around you and your knuckles lighter in color from gripping the grey hoodie.

He was staring at you, it wasn’t clear if he was waiting for you to say something or not. You spoke anyway. “I missed you.”

“Me too.”

Letting his hoodie go, you wrapped your arms around his torso. Damian mover his hand away from your face to hug you back, sighing contently when you rested your head on his chest.

“I thought you wouldn’t talk to me anymore,” you confessed in a low voice, ashamed for doubting him.

“I didn’t want to pressure you, that’s all,” he assured. Upon hearing you hum, he took a breath, “what does this mean?”

“It means I love you.”

“Good.” You could hear the smile in his tone, feel the breathiness of it on his chest.

Looking up, you smiled at him too. “Yeah?”

Damian pecked your lips, “more than good.”

[yikeswtfmate]

Trouvaille

Trouvaille (n.) a valuable discovery, or a lucky find; something lovely discovered by chance

Summary: Bucky stumbles upon a dingy bar in Brooklyn, turning his world upside down.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: swearing

A/N: Super fluffy piece! I’m so excited about this, every second of it has been an absolute pleasure. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did writing it!

masterlist

It’s another Wednesday night that Bucky spends in a seemingly random bar in Brooklyn. But nothing is random about this bar – although, granted, it was at first. Now, James Buchanan Barnes can be found in this bar once a week without fail (which in all honesty should be a miracle considering what his job is), whether it’s a Monday (when only a few sad men swallow their misery in tall glasses of beer), or a Thursday (his favourite, because at 10 o’clock on the dot the bartender plays that song that he used to love so much in another life), or a Saturday (which he hates the most because it’s crowded and he can’t really have a proper conversation). The bar is nothing much – the same floor that however many times it’s cleaned it’s still a little bit sticky, there’s the smell of stale booze that oozes out from the upholstery and the customers only give him a cursory glance when he walks in and takes his usual stool right at the farthest corner of the bar.

He discovered this bar one night when he was tired of wandering the streets of Brooklyn after a long day of restlessness. He couldn’t sit still in the Avengers Tower, and although he tried sparring with Nat, or playing poker with Sam and Tony, or even tried his hand at chess again with Steve, he just couldn’t stop feeling fidgety. So he just up and went for a stroll through the emptying streets until he ended up in Brooklyn. He noticed the neon sign above the door, one of the clover’s leaves flickering on and off in the darkness. He decided to take a seat when he heard the music – low notes of a song long forgotten dancing between whispers and shouts, the singer’s voice too sweet for the rough hands that were clutching their bottles.

He stayed for the most radiant laughter that filled his ears, folding over and around the song. He stayed for the bright eyes that met his when he asked for a beer of his own; for the smile that tugged at delicate lips; for the raised eyebrow that ascertained recognition. He normally would have pulled his baseball cap lower over his eyes, but he didn’t want to obstruct his view. He wanted to see her fully, to bask in the marvel that this woman in front of him was.

The first words she said to him were of mockery, laughing at his weak attempt at a disguise, and after six months of knowing her, he’s still surprised at how easy it is to be around her. How easy it is to banter, to make fun of the other, to always be able to cheer him up, regardless of how deep his rage might be, to not expect anything more than to just be.

Now it’s another night that Bucky spends at the dingy bar, watching Y/N pour shots for the hen party that’s taking place for whatever reason on a Wednesday. He’s been in a foul mood all evening, and she’s been trying to give him some space, but as she wipes her hands on a damp towel, she huffs and saunters over to him.

“Ok, big guy. Tell me what’s up with you today.” Y/N demands, but Bucky doesn’t answer at first. She leans down, trying to catch his eyes as he lowers his gaze towards the bottle he’s been nursing for an hour already. “You know I hate it when I can’t see your pretty smile, baby.” She tries again. “Come on, Sarge, I won’t be seeing you for another week after tonight, give me something to swoon over until next time.”

He finally smiles, even if for a fraction. He looks back up at her and she notices the dark circles under his eyes. She knows he doesn’t usually sleep well, but he seems even more exhausted than last week. There’s something bugging him that’s enough to keep him from flirting and laughing at her stupid jokes, as he would do.

“Penny for your thoughts?” She offers.

“How about a kiss, doll?” Which is definitely more than she could get out of him all night, but still not the full force of the charm that he normally displays.

“My, mister Barnes, you sure know how to bewitch a girl, don’t you?” There’s a pause in their conversation as she goes about serving a man in a suit that must’ve probably just gotten out of a huge fight with his partner, considering the distraught look.

“Come on, Buck. Tell me what’s up. I ain’t leaving until you tell me what’s wrong.”

“You still have two more hours to work.” He points out.

“Which means I’m super dedicated to the cause if I’m willing to not lose my job by just walking out to prove a point.”

He sighs but at least offers her a small smile in return. Shaking his head, he takes a sip of his beer, knowing from experience that although she can give him space whenever he needs it, he always finds that he feels better after sharing his thoughts with her.

“Just been having a shitty week, that’s all, doll. The last mission was rather…challenging.” He says, memories of too many bodies scattered on a cold slaughterhouse floor in front of his eyes. There are not many things he’d shy away from telling her, but sometimes he feels the need to avoid giving her the grimy details.

Y/N nods in silence, and after a few seconds of watching him closely, she places her hand on top of his right one that was resting on the bar top. He moves his palm upwards in order to hold hers, lifting it towards his lips and placing a soft kiss on a knuckle. She squeezes his fingers for a second but doesn’t let go. He needs the contact, of that she is more than certain, and however much she’d like to deny her affection for him, this sullen man sneaked his way around her veins, slipped between the cracks of her ribs, and nestled himself in a corner of her heart, filling her lungs with sunshine and camellias without her even noticing.

“Well, I’d say beer is a good start to drown your sorrows in.” She notes, trying to make light, drawing him out of the dark place he likes to curl into.

She pulls back her hand, all the while Bucky wishing she’d just stay there in front of him, keeping her hand in his and just looking at each other.

“I can also offer you some salted peanuts as well.” She says, disappearing under the bar, throwing food and alcohol on the top as she keeps on talking. “Might find some pretzels as well, if only I can find where Cody keeps putting them under this goddamn – aha!” Another colourful bag surfaces and Bucky tries to catch it without smashing anything in his way. “Oh! I might even find his secret stash of chocolate if I look hard enough!” Her eyes appear over the countertop, a mischievous glint that Bucky enjoys but always treats with caution. “Would that make you feel better?”

“I’ve already told you that a kiss would be enough, baby.” He winks, already feeling some of the tension easing out of his muscles.

“Now, now, James. This is no way of treating a lady. What would the village say if I were to fall into your arms without you properly courting me?”

Bucky tilts his head to the side, narrowing his eyes. She shifts under his gaze, but can admit that it melts her from inside out.

“Is that what you want, doll? A proper courtship?” His voice is low but even with music playing and patrons shouting around them, she feels as if he whispered those words into her ear. She shudders, making his lips slowly tug up at one end.

“Bucky, you’re supposed to tell me what you want so you can feel better.”

“I said I wanted a kiss, but you keep refusing me, baby.” A frown. “So I’ll just settle for walking you home tonight, what do you say?”

“Silly goose.” She laughs, although she’s only half listening to him as she is pouring a draught beer to a customer next to him. “You’ve been walking me home for the past three months, I don’t see how tonight would be any different.”

Bucky smiles softly when she sends him a wink distractedly. There are pauses in their conversation, sentences and questions scattered across two hours as the patrons of the bar order their last drinks and prepare to head home. Midnight comes and goes, and Bucky loses himself in memories of nights spent in the bar, just so he could be in her company, even if for only a few hours. Tonight’s the night, he decides, there have been too many silent queries in her eyes, too many touches that bordered on delicate caresses, too many smiles hiding secrets that could bloom into something else, something more that he so desperately has been longing for.

It was easier to not want more from life before he met her. He was content with just surviving from day to day, never asking for more, never believing he deserved more. The way he saw it, it should have been his atonement for the years of pain and suffering he had inflicted. Never knowing more than completing the missions he was sent on, eradicating as much as possible of the evil that existed in the world, trying to tip the scales at least a fraction before he’d have to finally rest, regardless of how soon that would come. Until Bucky met Y/N, which turned his world upside down. He found himself more careful, less inclined to charge head first into any situation that might bring him certain death. Now he had someone to come back to, someone who would bring him back from the dead just so she could give him a good scolding.

He's been more than careful not to let any of his friends near her, except for Natalia, of course. Y/N mentioned one time her thoughts on the Black Widow being the most amazing woman to ever grace the Earth, so he decided to surprise her one night. It wasn’t a tough choice to make, her ecstatic expression and her giddiness were enough to make him smile all night, although he had to give up her attention completely in favour of the redhead. After that, Nat would sometimes accompany him, having taken a liking to “Barnes’ cute bartender,” but neither of them would give any more to the others, much to their collective chagrin. But Bucky was relentless in refusing to subject her to their teasing and intensity, and he was grateful Nat respected his wish.

One night he asked her to dance with him in the middle of the dingy bar. It was the first time she played that song he loved so much, a soft melody that waved around their bodies as he shifted her closer and closer to him until she finally rested her head on his shoulder. He felt the sigh that escaped her lips and kissed the top of her head with his eyes closed.

Another night he came in bruised and battered after a particularly difficult mission, having escaped from the Med bay as soon as he was allowed, his first thought upon waking up being of her. The moment she saw him, she rounded the bar, inspecting him from head to toe and pinched his ear, which was probably the only part of him that wasn’t hurting at that moment. She shouted at him and cursed him, accusing him of being a “reckless wet sock,” all the while he was laughing at her reaction, even though the worry in her eyes made his heart expand like batter in the oven. That was the first time she made him promise he’ll stop putting himself in danger or she’ll never forgive him, a hand over his purple cheek, her thumb stroking over the tender skin. With a kiss to the inside of her wrist, he promised, having realised he would forever do anything she would ask of him.

While she is closing the bar, Bucky wonders yet again how would his life look like if he would just give up his duties as an Avenger, and follow his heart for once. He wonders whether that would be selfish, throwing away the possibilities unleashed by the serum flowing through his body, turning his back to the injustices of the world without a second thought, just so he could wake up with Y/N in his arms every morning.

“You’re thinking too much again and that only leads to trouble.” Her voice startles him from his musings, a poke to his ribs for good measure.

They start walking in silence for a few blocks, the city asleep around them. Y/N waits for him to speak, knowing from experience that it’s better to give him time until he’s ready to say whatever’s on his mind.

“Do you ever wish to…give everything up and start again?” He asks.

“I guess being a bartender isn’t anyone’s dream job.” She concedes. “I’d love to write more, but that won’t pay my bills. Giving everything up and starting again would just work in theory, wouldn’t it, though? There will always be a part of you that stays with you forever, no matter how much you try to hide it, so in my opinion it’s better to just accept it and move on.” A few more steps in silence. “You should stop blaming yourself, Buck. It wasn’t your fault. Accept it and move on. I’m not judging you for anything you’ve done while you were…you know. You’re here now and I love the person that you are now, so that’s all that matters to me.”

Bucky stops in his tracks, watching her in utter stupor. They’ve discussed what happened, but never at great lengths, because Bucky was too afraid he’ll repulse her into avoiding him. She’s never shared her thoughts on the matter, at least not this openly.

Y/N turns back when she notices he’s not in step with her anymore. She extends her arm, offering her hand and he takes it, interlacing their fingers together.

“You’re kind, and sweet, and funny, and although you’re a fucking idiot who has no sense of self-preservation, I care about you deeply, Buck. And it’s not just the fact that you’re the most gorgeous man I’ve ever met, even though it sure is a big plus to be this easy on the eye.” She laughs. “It’s breaking my heart to see you beating yourself up time and time again for something that is not your fault. I want you to see yourself through my eyes and realise that you deserve all the happiness in the world, and that you’re loved so much – ”

Y/N’s words die in her throat. Hands in her hair, pulling at heart strings, soft caresses of his tongue, the taste of beer, camellias bursting her chest open, arms around his neck, long strands of hair tickling her fingers, a sense of coming home, a sigh escaping lips, the tug of a smile, and foreheads pressed to each other, love weaving in and around their pulsing veins.

“I’ve wanted to do this for a while.” He admits.

“It took you too much for my liking.”

A whisper on his lips as Bucky kisses her again – more, forever, I promise.

[calif0rnia-lovers]

fake it ‘till you make it

chapter 1: you were mine first. 

summary: a trip down memory lane as Tre returns home to find his best friend dealing with the fallout of her divorce proceedings.

a/n: this chapter is really long. it’s essentially full of backstory. i didn’t want to post each part as its own chapter bc that would end us up with four short chapters. so...prepare for time jumps. kinda wanted to get the backstory out the way so that i can get into the good stuff. let me know what you think. i know it’s a reader fic but i just think aja naomi is so pretty that’s why you see her face :)

if there are typos bare with me. I forced myself to stop making changes and just posted it. songs are linked because i’m hella dramatic and moody when i write.

words. 8,960

2006: junior year in high school. (gif).

You say we're just friends but I swear when nobody's around You keep my hand around your neck, we connect

You're seated, alone, in the corner booth at Happy's Diner. The AP Calculus book and notes spread out across the table are the perfect repellants for teenage boys hoping to "keep you company" until your friend arrives.

Your friend who just so happens to be running extremely late. Halfway done with your second glass of soda kind of late.

Trevante comes strolling into the diner, pausing long enough to say hi to Happy before heading in your direction. Climbing over the booth, he slides in next to you.

"Sorry I'm late," he huffs as he settles in next to the window.

His arm drapes over your shoulder, as he reaches forward to drag your plate towards him. Keeping your focus on the problem you're solving, you blindly lift his left arm, turning it so that you can see the face of his watch.

"You are forty-eight minutes late." You shove his arm off your shoulder, it finding its place back to your shoulder instantly. "Why do you wear a watch if you don't know how to use it?"

"Why buy me a watch for my birthday if you know I can't use it?"

Trevante narrowly avoids the slap you send towards his hand, stealing a french fry and popping it into his mouth.

His neck rolls, a groan escaping his lips as you move the plate out of his reach.

"Come on, Y/N. I can't have any-"

"No. You can tell me where you were. What was so important you left me waiting for forty-eight minutes? I already ordered the dinner you promised me."

"You clocking me now?" His brow arches as he drags the plate across the table.

"When it affects me? Yes. Yes, I am."

Trevante lightly shrugs his shoulder before retrieving the ketchup. The fact he doesn't want to tell you causes you to lift his arm from over your shoulder.

Resting his arms against the table, he silently busies himself with cleaning your plate.

"Why can't we study at your place?

Trevante watched as your shoulders rise and fall, your brow furrowing as you reach in your backpack. You're willing to acknowledge his question isn't that strange. From the fifth grade, the two of you have always studied at your house. Your dining room table has years worth of homework sessions. When you entered high school, your study sessions had migrated to your bedroom.

Trevante could usually be found sprawled across your bed; arm tucked behind his head as he lounged on your pillows. While you were found seated on the floor, books and notes displayed neatly around you.  You would kill to be back in your room right now. Both of your giggles mingling with the latest playlist Trevante has downloaded on his computer. However, ever since your last study session, that doesn't seem like a great idea.

Your mind is still trying to make sense of what exactly happened. You were slightly hopped up on coffee, the late-night study session keeping you and Trevante up well past your parents. Trevante...was wired by something else. What exactly? You're not sure. He'd arrived at your place, hours before, in a shitty mood but refused to tell you why. You'd initially thought it was because you'd rejected his invitation to attend William Prescott's party because you needed to study. Trevante had gone to the party before meeting you. Whatever happened at the party had stopped him from being a semi-decent study partner.

You were used to the textbook attempts of avoiding his work. The television, conversations about something he'd heard in the locker room, etc. What you weren't used to was his fingers toying with your hair, or brushing against your thighs. His lips brushing against your shoulder.

You'd nearly caused him to break his neck on the stairs with how fast you got him out of your house that night.

You grip your eyes closed for a brief moment, an all familiar heat spreading across your skin as he studies your face.

"It's just, my mom...she said something about us having an open-door policy and raging hormones, and it just...weirded me out?"

"Raging hormones," he scoffs, his attention focusing on the problem you're finishing up. "Your mom thinks we're having sex? We used to take baths together."

Erasing your mistake, you try again. You don't respond until you've finished the problem. Sliding the nearly completed homework assignment in Trevante's direction, you pick up your soda.

"I know, that's what I told her. She seems to think guys became sex-crazed when they turn sixteen."

"It's earlier than that," Trevante teases as he looks over the work.

It takes him a moment to realize the assignment is his not yours. He'd given you the completed homework during third period.

"Can you look this over?" He'd asked, hastily placing a kiss against your cheek before starting down the hall after William. "I'll make it up to you tonight. Dinner at Happy's at seven!"

You'd marked up most of the assignment in red while waiting for his arrival. The fact he'd attempted to do the homework without your help leading to you redoing it for him to soften the blow.

Releasing a sigh of relief, Trevante grins in your direction.

"You're so fucking smart, Y/N. It took me all last night to finish that."

You wince as his grip tugs against your shoulder, pulling your closer. His lips briefly press against your cheek. Your giggles fill the air as a second kiss follows.

"Stop," you giggle, lightly pushing against his cheek you watch him place a kiss against your palm before returning your focus on the math problem to his homework. "Don't think compliments will get me to finish your homework for you. You're finishing the rest. Right now. I'm only helping you make the corrections from now on. I only fixed it early because I can't be here until ten again."

Trevante's eyes roll as he accepts the pencil you offer him. "I've got plays to remember. I don't have time to ace AP Calc."

"And I have an entire European History essay to finish when I get home, so focus."

You spend the next thirty minutes helping Trevante finish working through his assignment. By the time you're finished explaining his mishap in the last problem, he's got a headache, and you're on your second plate of fries.

"You got that?"

"Yeah."

"Tre?" You wince at the sigh escaping his lips. "You don't sound too convincing. Do you need me to explain it again?"

You look up to find him watching you. His brow furrowed.

"What do you think of Prescott?" Trevante asks.

Your brow furrows as you concentrate on finishing the remainder of your shake.

"Prescott? As in William Prescott? The quarterback?"

"Yeah."

You attempt to read his expression, but whatever is on Trevante's mind, he isn't giving much away.

"He's...nice? I don't know, Tre," You laugh. "I don't know him. I mean, he's spoken to me maybe...three times. Each of those times is because I'm with you."

William Prescott was hard to ignore. Even if you weren't acquainted with him, it was impossible not to know who William was. His father was mayor, his mother, a member of the school board. Not to mention William was captain and quarterback of your school's football team. You share two classes with William. The fact you tend to sit in the front, and him in the back, making it difficult for him to talk to you. You can't even remember the last time he looked in your direction, let alone acknowledged you.

"I'm pretty sure he's gonna try and ask you out."

Your eyes roll as you uncap the highlighter in your hand.

"Right." You snort.

Concentrating on highlighting the formula before you, you glance up when you realize nothing else has been said.

"He asked me if you were seeing anyone," Trevante responds, his expression unreadable.

"And? What'd you tell him?" You ask the urgency in your voice, causing Trevante's eyes to roll.

He shrugs.

"I said not that I know of."

You let his words sink in, your brow furrowing. You're not sure what to say to that. If there was anyone who knew about what was going in your life, it was him.

"Okay..."

"I mean...I told him you weren't really looking for him. I figured he wasn't really your type. He's the quarterback, and you're..."

You wait for him to finish, but he doesn't.

"I guess you're the only exception to my newfound hatred for jocks?"

Lifting his arm, Trevante didn't bother responding as you gathered up your belongings before heading to the door.

two weeks later.

You keep your hands out before you. With your palms an inch away from the vent, you struggle to keep your entire body from trembling. Your dress is clinging to your wet body, the fabric's weight adding to the uncomfortable sensation on your skin. The air pumping through the ten-year-old jeep is a struggle on a good day. Paired with pouring rain on a chilly October night, it seemed the old vehicle wasn't going to be up to the task.

The rustling alongside you isn't enough for you to open your eyes, or move away from the slowly heating vents.

Trevante continues rustling through his gym bag. He is in search of an extra set of clothes. The spur of the moment thunderstorm that had erupted at the end of the game left everyone unprepared. You were in the stands, only really attending to cheer on your best friend, so you hadn't brought an extra pair of clothes. With the downpour, exiting the stands was a disaster. You didn't want to twist your ankle running down the slick foundation. By the time you made it through the gates of the field, you had to trek up the hill to the parking lot. You had struggled against the crowd to reach Trevante's jeep. By the time he'd met you in the parking lot, you were soaked to the bone.

After retrieving his shirt, Trevante grabs his letterman jacket for good measure.

"All right," he huffs as he tosses his duffle into the back. "This is all I've got."

Tugging the wet dress over your head, you toss it into the backseat before gladly accepting the longsleeved shirt.

The initial stripping off your clothes left Trevante frozen. In his haste, he hadn't considered the idea you might have to undress to get warm. His eyes had widened, his gaze instinctively drifting down your chest to the light pink bra you wore. He pauses to admire how the light fabric contrasts against your skin. You are too busy struggling to tug the shirt over your head to notice. Clearing his throat, Trevante shifts in his seat before focusing on adjusting the radio.

"I can't believe I let you talk me into coming," you mumble as you slip your arms through the sleeves of his shirt.

"You can use my jacket." Stealing a second glance in your direction, Trevante felt his shoulders relax once it became apparent you were decently covered. "It wasn't like you were doing anything anyway."

Shoving your arms through the sleeves of the jacket, you can't deny him a smile as a warmth passes over your body. The fabric is thick, capturing his scent. It feels as though its nearly twice your size.

"I was because, believe it or not; my world does not revolve around you, Rhodes."

"Right," he scoffs. "It's just boring when I'm not around."

Trevante glances apprehensively in your direction.

"So…" You wait for his sentence to be completed. When he doesn't speak, you glance across the car to find his thumb tapping against the steering wheel. "Will Prescott?"

A heat flushes over your skin at the mention of his name.

A light shrug rolls off your shoulder, your gaze diverting. "What about Will?"

"You're going out with him next week."

"Sounds like you already know the answer to that," you mumble.

The laugh that fills the car brings the heat to your face.

"What's so funny?"

"Nothing," Trevante shakes his head before shifting the car into reverse.

You reach forward pushing it back into park.

"No, hold up. What?"

He looks at you for a moment before releasing a deep breath.

"It's just...he's kind of a player."

"William Prescott, a player?" Now it's your turn to scoff. "He's the captain of the football team-"

"That should tell you-"

"Oh, so does that extend to you?"

Trevante smiles, motioning for you to finish your sentence.

"Besides, you didn't even let me finish. Will's the second smartest kid in our class, and I know that because I'm the smartest. He's the poster child of our town. You can't be a poster child, slutting it up without everyone knowing. I haven't seen him date anyone since freshman year."

"Yeah you're right...must just be locker room talk." Resting his head back against his seat, Trevante runs his hand over his face. "What'd you wanna ask me?"

Suddenly your motives for attending the game seemed stupid. You'd texted Tre before the game, asking if he could give you a ride home.

"I need a favor." Your text had read, followed by "A big one. However, you have to promise not to tell anyone. Ever."

"Depends on how many laws we break," he'd responded.

"It's…" Your voice tapers off as you concentrate on the working windshield wipers. "A terrible idea."

"A bad as you picking William Prescott over me?"

When his teasing isn't enough to make you smile, Trevante sits up.

"I'm not a cheerleader, Tre. I don't have guys lining up after me like girls do you. I don't want my first kiss to be with a guy I barely know."

"Look, Y/N, I was fucking around about Will. He's not that bad. Pretentious, but not a complete dick…" Trevante's eyes widen. "You want me to…"

Suddenly the idea sounds stupid, and you're backpedaling.

"It's just I mean, he's the quarterback. Also, I know guys talk and-can't you tell when someone's like inexperienced with that kind of stuff? I don't want that being the only thing he thinks about when he's kissing me-and then he goes back and tells everyone during "locker room talk." Next thing I know, the school newspaper will be publishing that I'm a virgin-"

"Whoa-chill," he chuckles, the smile on his face stopping you in your tracks. "Okay?"

You nod. Your gaze drops to your hands. You're almost sure the heat burning your cheeks is visible to him.

You reluctantly look at Trevante as his touch finds your chin.

His lips press against yours, pulling your eyes closed. It takes a moment for your body to respond. By the time your brain processes what is happening, his lips are gone. His eyes are on you.

"Relax, y/n." He chuckles, his tongue passing over his lips at the sight of the range of emotions flickering across your face. He gently brushes his thumb along the curve of your jaw. "I'm not looking to break your heart. It's just a kiss."

"Just a kiss. Right."

You nod, but the action only causes Trevante to laugh for a second time. He knows the wheels are churning in your head. That, just like every aspect in life, you are beginning to overthink.

"Relax."

"Easy for you to say, Cassanova. Besides I am-"

A squeal comes out mangled with a gasp as his hands find waist and he's pulling against you. He's lifting you into the passenger seat and resting you against his lap. Your hands find his shoulders, the urge to push some space between you the first thought that crosses your mind.

There isn't much space you can put between the two of you with the steering wheel behind you.

You blink. Meeting Trevante's gaze, you feel the pulse of your heart skyrocketed as his hands move from your waist to your lower back.

Sensing your tension, Trevante smiles softly.

"I'll let you take the lead. I know you're big on learning on your own."

Suddenly you're aware of your surroundings.

The smell of rain against your skin. The soap from his rushed shower. The tap of the rain against the window, and roof of the car. The feel of his jeans against your thighs. The sensation that rushes across your skin with each shift of his jeans against your skin when you move. The muscles of his shoulders beneath the fabric of his t-shirt. The slight spike of his heartbeat as your touch drifts to his chest. The rise and fall of his chest as he takes a deep breath as he waits for you to kiss him.

Relax, Y/N. It's just a kiss.

When you blink, and your eyes lift to meet his, you find Trevante's gaze on yours. A tiny smile is on his lips, his head resting against the headrest. The sense of calm that seems to cover you from head to toe stems from the steadiness of his heart against your palm. His thumbs gently massage the outside of your thighs.

The sight of his growing smile causes one to spread across your lips in response. With a slight shake of your head, you place your hands along either side of his neck and lean in to kiss him.

His grip tightens around your waist, shifting your body forward so that you straddle him. Trevante's fingers are in your hair, keeping your lips pressed against his. The desire to feel as much of you as he can eliminate any remaining space between the two of you. Neither of you can keep track of who does what first. Who's tongue brushes against who's lips first, who's hands start to wander first, who's giggle melts into a groan as your hips shift instinctively against his.

Time seems to fall away as quickly as the rain.

His lips linger along the curve of your neck. The pain that had pulled a gasp of irritation from you, a few seconds prior, has been replaced by a much more addictive sensation. The kind that sends a shiver down your spine and digs your fingers into his shoulders. Your hips instinctively shift against his as the coolness of his breath fans the sensitive bruise forming against your skin. His lips press a kiss against the bruise, retracing their steps until they’re pressing against your lips suppressing your giggles.

The tap that echoes off the walls of the jeep causes you to jump. Your back pressed against the steering wheel, your heart skipping a beat as the horn fills the air. Trevante’s hands instinctively grip your waist, pulling you forward, steadying your body. He winces as your weight shifts, your hand pressing against his chest.

Through the damp window, you can make out a single figure. As if that isn’t enough to scare you, you realize the figure is surrounded by something much more frightening than a peeping Tom. The blending of red and blue lights flooding the car distorts the figure. A second tap, with the butt of the flashlight, against the glass follows.

“Don’t-” you catch Trevante’s wrist as he reaches to roll down the window.

“What? You think they’re gonna go away? We can’t exactly say we didn’t know they were there.”

The rain has stopped, leaving just the chilly October night air. You shiver against Trevante as he rolls the window down. There’s no point in climbing into the passenger seat, moving would only draw more attention to your current situation. Your face turns towards the passenger seat, Trevante’s hand lifting to shield his eyes as the flashlight floods the driver side.

Trevante blinks, allowing his eyes to adjust to the light residing on his face. His grip painfully tightens around your waist, his fingers attempting to send you a message, once he realizes who’s on the other end of the flashlight.

Your heart jumps into your throat as a man’s voice floats through the window.

“Game’s over Tre,” came a familiar voice. “You kids need to go ahead and clear out the lot. Take this somewhere else…Preferably with a condom, and off school grounds.”

Trevante nods quicker than intended. He clears his throat, his mind torn between focusing on hiding the fact you were half-naked in his lap and wrapping up the conversation so that he could roll up the window.

“Yes, sir.” He stammers, his weak smile arching the cop’s brow. “We’re – uh, we were actually getting ready to go grab some food. Kinda just lost track of time. But uh – we’ll go now. Sorry for the trouble.”

Trevante moves to roll up the window, but pauses as the officer rest his hand against the door. Cutting off the flashlight, he reaches in to clap Trevante on the shoulder.

“That was one hell of a game, kid” the cop whistled. “You’ve got some speed, son. Those boys from Eastside didn’t know what to do with yo-”

You grip your eyes shut as your father’s words come to an abrupt halt. His gaze lingers on the backseat, Tre’s eyes drifting shut once he remembers what’s in the back. Discarded in haste, your dress rested on top of his gym bag. The same dress your father had zipped for you this morning before you gave him a kiss and ran to catch the bus. You don’t have to turn and face to him to know that your dad’s shooting daggers into Trevante.

A shiver runs through your body as the door is yanked open flooding the jeep with the night air.

Pain shoots through your arm.

You wince as your dad’s grip tightens as he tugs you out the car. Your stomach flutters as nearly fall face forward towards the ground. Your dad pauses long enough to ensure both of your feet have planted before heading towards the awaiting squad car. You stumble forward as you struggle to match his much longer strides to prevent from tripping.

The initial shock is what allowed him to get you halfway to the squad car. But once you notice Ramos, his much younger partner hesitantly shrugging off the squad car, your heels dig into the ground.

“Dad, you’re hurting my arm –” You yank your arm back, the force causing your father’s grip to tighten. For a brief moment you both pause. The adrenaline from just a few moments before seems to have kicked into high gear as you meet your father’s gaze. “I can walk myself to the car.”

Trevante is already out of his jeep, partially afraid he might be drug out next. He watches you storm off to the car and takes a step in your direction. The more rational part of his brain tells him he should get back into his jeep and head home before your dad’s gun is out of its holster.

“Sir, I promise you, it’s not what it looks like-”

"Get your ass in the car, Tre."

It's not until you've slid into the back of the squad car, slamming the door as hard as you can for good measure, that Trevante realizes he was meant to join you.

Trevante hesitates. Pointing over his shoulder, he takes a step back towards the security of his jeep.

"Uh-my pop's will flip if I don't bring the car home."

"Don't worry about that," your dad smiles as he pauses to clap his hand on Trevante's shoulder. His grip digs into Trevante's skin, causing the young man to wince. "I'll explain it to him when I drop you off."

Once your dad is seated in the driver's seat, you lean forward, your fingers pressed against the grate.

"You're not going to let Ramos cuff me? Take me down to the station to prove a point?"

Your dad doesn't speak to you. Instead, he lifts his radio and shares that he's dropping two teenagers off at home.

In fact, he doesn't speak to anyone for the fifteen car ride home. He pulls up to the curb in front of your house and comes to a stop. You get out. You hop back as the squad car takes off. Driving past Trevante’s house, it does a quick U turn before speeding out of the neighborhood.

You take the front steps two at a time, not bothering to check if the door closes fully behind you. The last thing you need is for your mom to see you. You head straight to the shower, locking the door, and hoping no one will bother speaking to you. But as you cut off the light and head to your room, you know that is impossible.

You enter your room to find your mom seated on top of your bed, patiently waiting for you.

Your shoulders tense, your body bracing for the screams. But, your mom surprises you by quietly asking.

"Are you okay?"

"It's embarrassing. I wasn't doing anything-"

"That's not what your father told me." She interjects, your face falling into your hands. "He said you and Tre were...closer than usual."

You find yourself wondering if your father had recounted precisely how he'd found you.

"It was a kiss," you sigh. "Nothing else -- We didn't do anything else. We weren't going to."

"We're not surprised, sweetheart." Your mother's response causes you to blink in confusion. She was not lecturing you. She was using this opportunity to have yet another sex talk. "I mean -- your father is pretty surprised. But your father and I have had this conversation already. The two of you spend an awful amount of time together. You and Trevante have been friends for a while. You're both growing older, and your bodies are changing. He's noticing how your body's changing. You're noticing his-"

"Mom-"

"Your hormones are through the roof, your body might feel like it's hypersensitive around him. That's normal. You find yourself wondering if sex is as good as it looks on tv--"

"I don't need the sex talk again." You groan as you cross the room. Taking a seat beside her, you pick up your pillow before laying back. “And, what is it with you and hormones? This is the second time this week you’ve brought them up.”

Your mom doesn't quite believe you. "A mother’s intuition. The last time we had the sex talk, honey, you were a freshman. You weren't thinking about boys-"

"And I'm really not now," you mumble from beneath the pillow covering your face.

"Take that off."

You groan.

Doing as she says you allow her to tug against your hands pulling you up. Sitting against the headboard, you tuck your knees into your chest.

"Kissing can feel good. But it often leads to something more serious. I'm not as naive as your father. You can't stay a little girl forever. I just don't want you rushing into something you're not ready for. Or at least not with a clear head."

"Mom, I wanted to get my first kiss over with. So I'm not the only girl in the entire junior class that has never been kissed. Tre just did it as a friend. Nothing is going on between us. We're still best friends."

Your mom is silent for a moment. You feel nervous as her gaze studies your eyes before leaving your face. It feels like with just a look, she can visualize every moment from before, and what is to come. Heat races across your skin as you think of Trevante's lips against yours. It rushes to your thighs as her eyes find your neck. The place where his lips showed you that kisses didn't have to be on your lips to feel amazing. The place where your flesh was tender, bruised.

"Best friends still need to understand the importance of condoms." She smiles as your brows raise. You're not sure how you didn't notice it before, but she lifts the box of condoms from her lap. "You can't depend on a guy to have one. In fact, most will try and say you don't need them."

Noting your wide eyes, she says quietly. "It'll give your father more peace of mind if he knows you have these. Even if you're not planning on using them."

You take the box, tossing it towards the chair in the corner.

She gets up pausing long enough to press a kiss against your forehead.

"I think it might be best if Tre doesn't stop by for a while. At least until your father can cool down."

"Fine," you huff.

"Night sweetie."

You watch the door close behind her, listening to her retreat to her room. A few moments later, you hear her speaking to your father through the phone.

You get up, crossing the room. You retrieve the previously discarded box of condoms. Opening the top drawer putting the box of condoms inside. You're about to close it when you stop to rearrange the clothes inside. You cover the box from your sight. Pushing the drawer shut you take a deep breath.

You study your reflection in the mirror. You swollen lips, wide eyes. The bruise on your neck. You realize it won't be easy to hide it in tomorrow's heat. When you cross the room, you pause by the window. You realize Tre's curtains are open. The light in his room is on. From your windows, you can see directly into each other's bedroom.

No matter how many times you've shared this tidbit, Trevante doesn't seem to utilize the blinds. You tend to keep your blinds shut in the morning and after his return home from practice. Accidently spotting him walking around his room, stark naked in the eighth grade has made you overly cautious.

You are in the process of untying the string holding back your curtains when you realize he's moved in front of the window. From what you can tell, your father hasn’t done any physical damage to him.

Trevante tugs his shirt over his head lazily tossing it in the direction of his hamper. He pauses to release the breath he was holding. As he turns towards the window, you take a step to the side. Your breath hitches in your throat as you bump your elbow. 

He waits a moment. The light flooding from your bedroom making him hopeful you’ll check to see if he’s home. But you never do.

 two and a half years ago. (gif)

Catching my breath, pounding my chest

I’m loving you less, I need to confess.

What is it about firsts that the human brain loves so much?

It seems as though we always remember our firsts.

Our first kiss, the first time we heard our favorite song. The first time we felt an inkling of true love. We can remember everything down to what we were wearing, how fast our heart was beating, the weather. Everything. Down to the smallest of details.

When you're in love, being able to remember all of your firsts is a beautiful thing.

What about when you're no longer in love? When only one of you is still in love?

Suddenly, your firsts are different.

You begin to remember the first time you notice his lips felt different against yours. The first time his hand stops pressing against your lower back as he passes you in the kitchen for his morning coffee. The first time he stops whispering how beautiful you look when stealing a second kiss.

You remember the first time his phone lights up, illuminating the bedroom ceiling when he thinks you've dozed off. The first time he calls to tell you he's working late, so there's no need to postpone dinner. The first time dates that once seemed important only seem important when he is reminded of their significance. You even remember the first time you gave up on sending him reminders.

Most importantly, you remember the first time he tells you he isn't in love with you anymore.

It had come in your favorite restaurant: The Gold Eagle. William always took you there when he had news to share whether it be a promotion, the winning of a case, or when he wanted to renew your vows.

You weren't expecting any news in particular when he asked you to book a babysitter for Colby. Certainly not the end of your marriage.

The words had come abruptly -- or maybe it seemed abrupt to you.

How else would can you describe the shift in conversation from plans for your son's birthday party to not being in love anymore?

Abrupt. It is the only way to describe it.

When he'd first spoke the words, you didn't respond. Will had thought you hadn't heard him. Under the music and laughter surrounding you, he couldn't be too sure.

Will cleared his throat, shifting in his chair as he paused the action of cutting his steak.

"Did you hear me?" He'd asked. His brows knit together as he studied your face for any sign of acknowledgment. "Y/N."

You had heard him. Loud and clear.

Your mind concentrated on his word choice. It was meticulous.  There was a time when you loved that Will spoke that way. He never strung people along, or beat around the bush. He always told the truth, sparing someone's feelings came second.

You always knew where he stood, or so you thought.

"I don't love you anymore." Those were the five words that had come out of his mouth.

He hadn't said, "I'm falling out of love with you." He wasn't giving you a warning as to what might come. He was careful with his words because he knew you. He knew you were hoping he hadn't made his mind up. He wanted you to understand that there was no room for repairing.

There was a tiny part of you that was not shocked. That little voice, in the back of your mind, that has been whispering to you the last year. The tiny voice that has been telling you to trust your gut each time you doubted Will.

Reaching forward, you picked up the wine glass before you. Will's eyes observed as you downed the red contents of the entire glass.

He wiped at his mouth, his jaw tightening as you reach across the table for his untouched glass. He doesn't bother objecting as you down the entire glass of wine. He subtly waved off the young waiter approaching with a fresh bottle in his hand.

Will cleared his throat, sitting up in his seat.

"I've already drawn up an agreement. I believe you'll find that it takes both you and Colby into consideration."

He reached into the pocket of his suit jacket. He produced a white envelope.

"William-," you gasp, the air in your lungs escaping you for a moment.

For a brief second, the sound halts his passing of the envelope. He watched the welling of your eyes. His throat clenched as he tried to swallow.

"I don't want to fight you for anything. I told my lawyer that the money's not an issue."

"The money you got because I stayed home with your son? The money you earned being able to show up at all hours at the drop of your boss's hat because I put off getting my masters and furthering my career? Now you’re kicking me and your son out of my house --"

"I told my lawyer that the money's not an issue." He repeated. "I have opted to split it all, 50/50. I'll pay a set amount the first of each month. It will be enough to keep you and Colby comfortable. It will cover his tuition-"

"What do you want me to fix?" Your question had come out softly. The raised question pulled Will's eyes from the envelope. "I'll do anything you want. I'll-Please do not break up our family."

William knew this would happen. He knew that letting you down wouldn't be easy, no matter how much he tried. That is why he can't meet your eye as your plea hangs in the air. He can't watch you cry, his gaze returning to the envelope before him. The tears which blurred your vision are his one weakness.

As he watched you wipe at your eyes, Will found his confidence slipping away. He leaned forward and placed the envelope in the center of the table. He needed to present his out, needed to make the break clean. There was one piece of information he knew would make you take your previous plea back.

"She's pregnant," Will continued as you concentrated on finishing the wine in your glass. It takes a moment for his words to sink in. You blink, meeting his gaze. "She wants to keep it, and...so do I."

Suddenly, everything made sense — Will's insistence on hiring a  babysitter. There was a reason you were having dinner in a public place as opposed to the privacy of your dining room.

Will didn't want you to cause a scene, or at least knew you wouldn't. Not here.

"We can't have another kid right now, baby." You recited, the words halting his movements. "I'm swamped at the office. They're finally giving me a shot. I wouldn't want to leave you at home taking care of two kids just as I'm getting a break in my career."

Will shook his head. "I...It hasn't been right between us for months, Y/N. What's the point of staying together if we're drifting apart? Please don't say we need to stay together for Colby. I'm not leaving my son. But kids pick up on shit. No matter how good we are at faking it in front of him."

"Come on, y/n," he sighed as you glanced over your shoulder in search of your waiter. When you spotted the young man, you lifted your empty wine glass in the air. Will continued speaking the feeling he was digging himself into a deeper hole heavy against his chest. "This isn't a surprise to either of us-"

"Oh, I wouldn't say that," you scoffed as you watched your hesitant waiter arrive. Sensing the tension between you and your husband, the young man quickly attempted to uncork the fresh bottle of wine. "I wasn't aware that my husband was fucking someone else while he was also fucking me-"

"Alexis and I-"

William watched your movements freeze.

The mentioning of the young paralegal's name seemed to break through the haze that had started forming on your mind.

"Could you be even more cliche? You fucked the office's teenybopper paralegal? And you got her pregnant? You could have just used a condom."

For a moment, William didn't react. He watched the range of emotions wash over your face. The frustration that morphs into disappointment. The resolution that forms as you reached forward taking the bottle of wine from the hands of the struggling waiter.

"He'll pay for it."

You removed the napkin from your lap, sitting it on the table. You picked up the envelope and shoved it into your purse. You're halfway to the door by the time Will can take out his wallet and pay.

The cold air hit you hard. The intake of fresh air causing your head to swirl. The burn of your chest and rush of your heart made the task of retrieving your valet ticket from your purse difficult.  

Once you found the ticket, you turned. The wind was knocked out of you as ran into a solid barrier.

"Whoa. You okay?"

Trevante caught his breath, his hands instinctively finding your waist to keep you from falling back.

You looked up at him, the recognization on his face causing his brow to furrow.

"Fuck," you groaned, your hands instinctively pushing against his chest.

The look on your face caused Trevante to ignore your request of space; his gaze drifted over your shoulder in search of an explanation.

"Hey, what's wrong?" He asked, the warmth of his hands finding your cheeks. His grip was firm, forcing you to stop your attempt to turn your face away.

You shook your head; your eyes gripped closed.

"I can't see you right now. You of all people. I cannot handle seeing you right now."

"Are you okay?"

Will's grip found your right elbow, his touch seeming to snap you out of it. Wiping at your eyes, you allowed him to guide your body closer to his.

"It's all good, man," Will smiled as he watched Trevante reach out to take your left hand.

"You sure?"

With one look, William knew he was not the one the question was directed to.

His weight shifted forward as Trevante takes in the scrunching of your nose. He knows the action very well. He knew that the silent breaths you take are an attempt to stop the tears in your eyes from spilling over.  But you also won't meet his gaze.

"Yeah, look, man. Y/N just had too much wine." Will chuckled as he retrieved the bottle from your hand. "I figured it'd be best she finished this one at home. You know how she is. Could never keep up with the guys."

You wrapped your arms around your waist, your eyes remaining on the ground before you as Will draped your jacket over your shoulders. You nod.

"I'm fine. Just ready to go home."

Trevante was thrown by how fast your entire demeanor had changed before his eyes. The tears were gone, along with the shaking of your voice. He almost thought he'd imagined it.

Before Trevante could respond, Will had led you back towards the valet. He helped you into the passenger seat, pausing long enough to give Trevante a wave before walking around the back of the car and getting into the driver's seat.

2019: this morning.

Concentrating on your son, you smile as Colby absentmindedly toys with the phone in his hand.

The headphones resting over his curls, obstruct any sound or conversations you don't want him to hear. After your reunion, he'd climbed into your lap to watch an episode of  Teen Titans.

You're both seated outside of the courtroom, patiently awaiting your turn. The clock on the wall, states you have five more minutes until your lives officially change.

They have changed steadily over the past few months, more noticeably for you than Colby. It took a while for him to understand that his dad was no longer living with you. William tried to stay present. He saw Colby more than you initially thought he would. The two of you alternate pickups and drop-offs at school. William stops by to share dinner with the two of you on Sundays, taking Colby to eat with him and Alexis twice a week.

When he's feeling up to it, Colby spends a week with his father. Usually, he opts for weekends. He hasn't warmed up to Alexis yet. Or their daughter.

Today is the first time you've physically held your son in two weeks. William had taken him to Atlanta to visit his parents for their wedding anniversary at the start of summer break.

"Thanks for letting me take him."

Instinctively, your eyes leave your Colby to find Alexis.

She is waiting beside William's lawyer, by the courtroom doors. She is cradling their daughter, Lola, in her arms. Although William's lawyer is speaking to her, Alexis's attention is focused on you.

"He is your son."

"I know, Y/N." William takes a deep breath. He releases it before adding. "I know two weeks is a long time, and you didn't want him to go...so thanks. It meant a lot to my parents."

You nod before looking in his direction.

"I'm shocked Alexis didn't show up with balloons, streamers, a "bride to be" sash, save the date cards...a marriage license for the judge to sign after she notarizes the divorce decree."

Your words harden William's jaw, his gaze sinking to his lap.

"We haven't spoken much about it," he breathes, but the wiping of his palms against his pants legs begs to differ. "We're still trying to settle in with Lola."

"But you have talked about it."

"She wants it to happen sooner than later."

"Well, you can come back here tomorrow and make it official. As of today, you are officially free of me, Mr. Prescott."

Most of the court proceedings are a blur — stipulations, and compromises going in one ear and out the other.

You didn't need to focus in on the words. You'd memorized that divorce agreement front to back. It's impossible not to when you've found yourself crying over it as many times as you have the past few months.

Many of those tear-filled nights, when you'd settled for a glass of wine over blowing William's brains out, you'd thought of calling your lawyer. She and everyone who learned the details of your split urged you to file under claims of adultery. It could increase the amount of child support and alimony, but it wouldn't give you any satisfaction. Your mother didn't care about satisfaction. She wanted you to hit William where it hurt, or at least where it would hurt Alexis the most, in his pocket. But you didn't.

It when you are having a lasting doubt about your decision when a slight nudge comes to your side.

Looking up, you find the judge's expectant gaze on you.

"Mrs. Prescott, would you like to keep your last name?" She asked for a second time. "You have the option of remaining a Prescott, or returning your legal name to that of your maiden."

"Um..." Alexis's brows shoot up at the hesitation. She leans over, whispering to William. He looks away from you long enough to respond to her. Keeping his last name had never crossed your mind, for more than a few brief seconds. It always seemed unimportant compared to ensuring you were financially stable for Colby. "I would like to keep it, your honor. It's the same as my son's."

William nods, his reaction falling on the opposite end of the spectrum when compared to Alexis's.

"Mrs. Prescott will keep her legal name," the judge noted. "As of today, upon the signing of the presented documentation, from both parties, your divorce will be finalized."

William meets your gaze. His fingers gently ruffle Colby's hair. Leaning forward, he pressed a kiss against your son’s forehead. He finds himself reaching out to wrap his arm around you, his arm giving you a gentle squeeze. He accepts the pen offered to him by his lawyer. William’s hesitation catches the attention of his fiance, but not yours as you place a kiss against Colby’s cheek.

"To new beginnings," his lawyer smiles, squeezing William's shoulder. The pressure a mixture of reassurance and urge causing WIlliam to remove the cap before leaning over the document. 

"Yeah...new beginnings."

2019: later on in the day. (gif)

"Do I have to wear this?"

Tugging against the collar of his shirt, Colby attempts to undo the top button. The light green polo button-down was one of the many gifts found in Colby's suitcase, courtesy of William's parents. Each time he visits them, they send him home with an entirely new wardrobe.

He needs to start dressing like a young man, Y/N. William's mother would always say.

"Yes," you sigh. Taking a step forward, you ring the doorbell for a second time before moving back to stand alongside your son.

"Daddy's always making me dress like this," Colby huffs, giving the collar another tug. "I hate dressing like this."

"It's because you look so handsome," you gently tease. "If I unbutton it, will you feel better?"

Nodding, Colby allows a grin to slide across his face as you kneel down before him. Undoing the top button you watch him release a dramatic sigh of relief.

"Hold on, let me get my glasses. I believe my eyes are deceiving me. Y/N Prescott?" Stepping onto the front porch, Trevante's father joking adjusted the frames resting on his nose. "I can't remember the last time that husband of yours let you come down to this part of town. Last time I saw you, you definitely weren't this tall, little man. How are you, Colby?"

"Good, sir. Thank you for asking." Bouncing his weight against his heels, Colby pauses long enough to shake the hand offered to him. He attempts to take a step inside in search of the children's laughter from inside the house. But you catch his shoulder causing him to stay put.

Mr. Rhodes looks over your shoulder, his gaze scanning the street.

"Speaking of husband's, where's yours? I wish I could say I've forgotten what he looks like, but his face is all over town now that he's made partner at that law firm. What is called now?"

"He couldn't make it." Offering up the platter of brownies in your hand, you feel your shoulders relax as his attention shifts to the snacks. "I made your favorite."

Lifting the lid, Mr. Rhodes sneaks a brownie out.

"Go ahead and takes those in, sweetheart. You know the way. Let's not tell, the misses that I had one."

"Your secret's safe with me."

You keep your free hand on Colby's head as you make your way inside. He knows he must stay at your side until he delivers the gift for Trevante's mom.

With each step, you find you're surprised how familiar the house feels despite the number of years since your last visit.

The music blasting outside is muffled by the shut screen door leading to the back yard, and the laughter and voices coming from the kitchen.

Nearly all of the wives and mothers from the neighborhood are in the kitchen, ducking under and stepping around one another as they balance different plates and bowls. You remain off to the side, suddenly feeling out of place.

Trevante's mother spots Colby first, her squeal of excitement pulling a shy grin from your son.

"Colby Andrew Prescott, my angel!" Scooping him up, she quickly places a kiss against his cheek before stopping to give his face a good once over. "You have gotten so big! And so handsome, just like your father. I've missed you. Both of you!"

Pulling you into a tight hug, his mother places a quick kiss against your cheek.

"Can you be an angel, and take these out to Tre? We're running behind with the food."

Before you can respond, Trevante's mother has replaced the platter of brownies with a plate stacked high with hamburger patties.

She gives you a gentle push towards the back yard, leaving you no room for opposition.

When you'd gotten the call from her, a few days prior, you thought it was a mistake. Trevante was coming home, and she was inviting everyone in the neighboorhood to stop by the house. Your initial plan had been to not show. It wasn't as though the two of you were that close anymore. Surely no one would notice if you didn't attend.

Maybe that's why you pause in the doorway when you spot him across the deck.

He's peppering playful kisses against the cheeks of his niece. Her giggles fill the air as he catches her fingers before her lips before pressing a final kiss against her forehead.

Placing her down, Trevante picked up the tongs before removing the hot dogs from the grill.

"Can I have two of those?" Colby asks as he stops at your side.

"You can have as many as you want," Trevante chuckles as he takes a step in your direction. "Man, you've gotten big, kid."

Colby nods, his smile growing as he tilts his head back for a better look at Trevante.

"That's what everyone keeps telling me."

Smiling, Trevante squats down before Colby.

"How old are you now? Five?"

"No!" Colby's laughter fills the air as he rolls his eyes. "I'm eight. I turn nine in fourteen days."

"Fourteen, huh? I better start looking for a gift."

Colby's eyes widen at the offer, his head tilting back to meet your gaze. "My momma has the list...if you need help."

"Alright. I'll get a copy. Up top." Trevante winces as their palms collide, shaking his hand out. "Take it easy on me, lil' man. I'm not as strong as you anymore. How 'bout you go play for a bit. Work up that appetite?"

Lightly ruffling his hair, you watch as Colby takes off the yard towards the other kids. Your focus remains on him for a moment. When you look back to Trevante, you find his gaze on you.

He accepts the plate of patties you offer him, his gaze remaining on your face causing you to redirect your attention.

He knows the source of your gaze's redirection is him, but he doesn't look away. He finds his mind picking up on the visible changes you present. It seems now that you're in one another's presence, it occurs to Trevante the last time you were this close to him was two and a half years ago.

Placing the plate aside, he reaches into the nearby cooler.

"Want a beer?"

"Uh, no, thank you." You look up, watching as he twists the cap off of his bottle before taking a sip. "I'm Colby's designated driver. We're going to get ice cream later, so...lemonade for me..."

The heat on your skin causes you to point over your shoulder. "I'm actually supposed to help your mom. So, I'll see you later -- when I come back for the burgers."

"Okay." Trevante smiles. The passing of his eyes over you for a second time causes you to take a step back. "Look, don't be stranger. I don't want another two years to pass before you give me more than five words."

You nod. It takes you a moment to realize you haven't spoken. When you do, you manage an, "Okay."

There is a silence that rests between the two of you for a brief second.

"Just uh...come find me. Colby and I are at my parent's old house."

Trevante nods, his brow furrowing as his eyes linger on your bare ring finger.

"I know the one."

Turning, you start back towards the house but pause as you near the door.

Biting your lip, you release the breath weighing against your chest.

"Tre." At the sound of his name, Trevante glances back. You wait until he turns to face you to speak. Your gaze falls to your shoes. "What did my dad say to you that night?"

It was a question you found yourself pondering more frequently as of late. One you'd never mustered the courage to ask when the first shift in your relationship occurred.

His silence makes you think he's having trouble remembering what night you're speaking of. You had nineteen years worth of consecutive nights spent together to catalog.

When you look up, you find his gaze is across the yard. A soft smile is on his lips. Lifting his beer to his lips, Trevante takes a sip before taking a step back.

He meets your gaze before smiling, "these should be done in about twelve."

Taking a second step back, he turns and focuses on laying out the fresh patties across the grill.

..... to be continued .......

tags:  @chaneajoyyy @kemkem101 @l-auteuse @doublesidedscoobysnacks@ghostfacekill-monger @blackpinup22 @blkroyalltea @essaysbyciara@wakanda-inspired @eyestheyseeyou​ @hufflepuff-ish​

[clericbyers]

learning to heal (part 4)

excerpt: Mike wouldn’t let his shitty mood affect the happy air surrounding the Party. He wouldn’t be the one to make everyone upset because he had to spazz out like in the last month of freshman year when he panicked in the middle of a celebratory dinner because the waitress kept giving him looks like she knew his darkest secrets. Like she knew he liked boys and found one of his teammates cute enough to be a little flustered about it. Like she knew he and his friends were monster hunters and got 30 people killed during the summer of ‘85.

length: 4.5K words

POV: Mike Wheeler

Read on AO3

Master Post

tag list: @vaugency , @lifeinvirtualreality , @princestanley , @lgbtqbyers , @smhbyler , @ticomat , @lightswriting , @lithhiums , @lullabyers , @byers-remorse, @cstlebyrs, @lomlbyers ♡

——————————————

“You took your time getting here!”

Mike rolled his eyes as he, Will, El, and Lucas skidded to a stop by the driveway to Dustin’s house. He was sitting on the curb with his bike and angrily glared at the late quartet. Lucas gave Mike and Will the stink eye as he bounded off his bike to stand by Dustin.

“You can blame Will and Mike; they took their sweet time getting to my place as if I don’t live a few houses away.”

Will shrugged and started biking in small circles in the driveway. El was gripping onto his waist and leaning her head on his back as he went by. “Sorry we’re late, Dustin. Mike and I went to bed later than expected and got kinda distracted when we woke up.”

“Distracted by what?” Lucas snorted. “Dust mites? The way sun filters through Mike’s shitty drapes? The feeling of blankets on your skin?”

Mike and Will exchanged a look, a look that screamed of guiltiness, and Dustin groaned. “Does it really matter what they were doing? We need to get Max and leave before the diner gets too full and starts making Mike antsy.”

Will halted his bike near Mike and he watched El’s grip on Will tighten more. “Antsy?”

“Yeah. Crowds sometimes get to me, but it’s not a big deal.” Mike shrugged and turned toward Lucas and Dustin, who raised suspicion-arched eyebrows at his words. “What? It’s really not a big deal.”

“You threw up in the back of Steve’s car just thinking about the crowd during your first relay race. Oh also, we tried to go to the movies to watch The Voyage Home last month and you spent half the movie in the bathroom doing breathing exercises.”

Lucas started laughing. “Oh my god, I still remember Mike’s face when he came back and saw the humpback whales and Spock’s headband and got so confused.”

“Hey! Look, the humpback whales part made no sense.”

“I told you already, Mike,” groaned Dustin, “Spock and Kirk needed to find the whales that sang at the same frequency as the probe since humpbacks are extinct in the future.”

“It’s still stupid! Same with Spock saying ‘the hell’ every five minutes. I didn’t miss much of anything being in the bathroom.”

“Well, I like The Voyage Home . It was a good conclusion to the trilogy.”

Mike turned on Will with an exaggerated gasp. “You wound me, Byers.”

“Are you really gonna stand here and let Will get away with acting like TMP doesn’t exist?”

“Yes, Lucas, I am, because that movie sucked ass.”

“This is why I’m a Star Wars nerd!” cried out Dustin as he stood up. “We can all at least agree that The Empire Strikes Back is the best of the three.”

Silence took to the air. Mike spoke up first. “Actually...”

“Finish that sentence, Mike, and you won’t have a tongue to continue it.”

El giggled from behind Will and Mike turned to face her out of instinct. She noticed his gaze but didn’t make eye contact and continued to stare ahead. Something in Mike broke a little seeing El unwilling to even just give him a smile. He knew he had no right to be upset over how she took the breakup even if it has been months already, he knew he broke her heart this past summer and he too was still pained by the ordeal, but he had hoped at least that maybe when they saw each other face to face it would be a happier occasion.

Will reached out to squeeze Mike’s arm and then turned back to Dustin and Lucas. “Let’s go get Max, then. She can give us a tie breaker opinion if we need it.”

Max was not enthusiastic about being asked to choose which Star Wars movie she thought was the best and mostly kept saying Return of the Jedi just to annoy Lucas. Will biked next to Mike when El transferred to Max and rode with her toward Main Street. Mike kept sending his boyfriend glances during the ride and he was always a little flustered when they happened to make eye contact and Will’s lips lifted into a small shy smile. There was something refreshing in being able to turn to his side and find such comfort as he did in Will as a best friend and as his significant other.

Mike couldn’t wait to tell the Party about how much he loved Will, about how lucky he was to fall for someone as kind and caring as the other boy. Even better, he was so extremely lucky that Will loved him back. It was nice to have this private happiness for himself and Will to share in by themselves—well, his mom and Will’s mom knew but they only ever exchanged knowing smiles whenever they caught Will and Mike standing a little closer than usual and trying to sneak cheek kisses when they passed each other by—but Mike was beyond ready to tell his friends.

Lunch was normal as usual: rowdy, loud, and uplifting as hanging out with friends usually went. Sometimes they were all so happy and normal that Mike could forget about the dark thoughts ruminating in the back of his mind, the memories that threatened to consume him when he closed his eyes to darkness. He could forget that no one knew what he hadn’t done to save people, no one knew that the monster built from the bodies and blood of their neighbors that terrorized Starcourt was a product of negligence.

It was weird how survivor's guilt worked. Mike never thought he’d really be faced with the troubling issue but he couldn’t help feeling like if they had done more, if he had focused more on what Will was facing, on what Dustin had found with Cerebo, maybe they could have saved more people. Maybe then the young couple from five houses down wouldn’t have been absorbed into a flesh monster and have their autonomy ripped from them as they melted into the single-focused mind of the Mind Flayer. Maybe then El wouldn’t be powerless, fatherless, Mikeless—not that he was the only person El lost but their closeness and desire to be together was a huge part of both their lives and losing that affected both of them.

Mike sighed to himself and closed his eyes as he leaned back in his chair. Will, who was sat across from him, nudged Mike’s foot with his own and sent him a concerned look. Mike smiled back—he was fine, just thinking too hard—and nudged Will’s foot in turn. Will nudged twice, Mike nudged twice, and then they kept playing footsie under the table until Max called them out for shaking the table. Dustin then tried to have a soda chugging contest with Lucas and won with Max’s encouragement, which made Lucas playfully salty and he brooded for a good minute and talked only to El, who humored him lightly.

Will ordered a milkshake to share with Mike while the others chatted excitedly between themselves about the New Year’s celebration and fireworks that would be happening where the fair was usually held. Mike would much prefer to stay indoors watching Dick Clark count the ball drop, but he knew social interaction and connection with his friends was what he needed most. He had already spent so much of his freshman year avoiding people whenever possible; the only reason why his friends knew about his therapy sessions and medication was because they ran into him the day after he missed school and pestered him for details. Mike couldn’t even give a good reason as to why he didn’t tell Will and El, too, why he left them in the dark despite the fact they were the most important people in his life.

Mike squeezed his eyes shut and flexed his hands on the table. Now was not the time for this. He wouldn’t let his shitty mood affect the happy air surrounding the Party. He wouldn’t be the one to make everyone upset because he had to spazz out like in the last month of freshman year when he panicked in the middle of a celebratory dinner because the waitress kept giving him looks like she knew his darkest secrets. Like she knew he liked boys and found one of his teammates cute enough to be a little flustered about it. Like she knew he and his friends were monster hunters and got 30 people killed during the summer of ‘85.

“Mike,” Will called out and the soft tone brought Mike back to the table and the conversation. The vanilla milkshake stood between them untouched and he frowned. He didn’t remember hearing the waiter stop by at all. Was he that entrenched in his thoughts to block out all other senses and trap himself in his head?

“You good?” Lucas asked from Mike’s other side, chewing on a fry as nonchalantly as possible.

Mike nodded. “I’m good. Just distracted.”

“We were just talking about X-Men, it’s no biggie,” added Dustin. “Max got some comics and has been reading a few to El so we wanted to discuss some fave runs.”

Mike’s brain was blanking on him. He couldn’t even think of anything concerning X-Men besides Professor X and Cyclops. He shrugged and turned to the milkshake to occupy his mouth so he didn’t have to actually offer an opinion. He could feel Will’s eyes on him and he looked up while slurping at the shake and made eye contact. Will rolled his eyes but his cheeks were flushed and the sight made Mike smile a little. He nudged Will under the table and mouthed I love you as best he could while blocking the side of his mouth from Lucas next to him.

Will’s smile grew more and he tried to hide it behind his straw but he fell out into giggles and caught everyone else’s attention. Dustin rolled his eyes and stage whispered to El beside him, “They’re back at it again, using that secret best-friends-since-we-were-five telepathy.”

Mike stuck his tongue out at his friend after a small chuckle. “You’re just jealous that all it takes is one glance from me for Will to lose his cool.”

“Hey, I’m not that easy to break.” Will retorted with a small kick under the table. Mike pretended it hurt more than it actually did and moaned as he dramatically grabbed at his ankle.

“My ankles are and I kinda need them for track!”

Will sputtered and then fell out laughing again. Lucas was cackling into his fries and Max was helping him by patting his back when he started to choke from laughing so hard. El was watching Mike, he could feel her eyes on him, and he chanced a glance with a small smile he hoped didn’t look like a grimace.

El maintained eye contact for about two seconds before she blinked and reached over to steal a few of Max’s fries. Mike considered it a success and turned back to finish his milkshake with Will. On the ride back, Mike and Lucas rode side-by-side in the back while Will and Dustin rode together up front and El and Max rode between the two pairs of bikers. Lucas was silent for a while before he spoke up with a huff.

“So, you and Will finally pulled your heads out your asses and hooked up.”

Mike nearly biked into a tree from the shock of the sudden statement. He coughed heavily and then gave his friend a glance. “What makes you say that?”

“You have a very expressive face,” the other boy chuckled to himself. “It’s how I knew you weren’t doing too hot in a really bad way even before you went to the doctor.”

Mike bit his bottom lip. “I know you don’t want me saying thanks or whatever but I really am glad you stuck with me through that.”

“What else would I do? You’re my friend and friends don’t ditch each other when in need.” Lucas smiled. “We’ve been friends far too long; I don’t care if you’re a jock track star now, to me you’re still goofy ass nerd Mike Wheeler with the fattest crush on his equally lovesick best friend.”

Mike laughed and felt a little warmth in his chest from the comment. Lucas was always blunt and direct, which is probably why he worked so well with Max, who was equally as blunt and direct. Lucas was just as loyal as anyone else in the Party and he and Mike has been friends the longest only after Mike and Will. Mike loved him so deeply and trusted him just as much.

“Was it that obvious?”

Lucas cackled. “Are you seriously asking that question? Dude, I thought you were gonna die when Will announced he was moving. And the way you spent practically all the rest of that summer at his side? Mike, you may be oblivious but Dustin and I have eyes and we use ‘em.”

“Dustin knows, too?”

“I don’t think he knows you two are together now but yeah, he knows you like Will.” Lucas shrugged. “It was kinda just a part of the group dynamic, you know? You two liking each other and always dancing around it as if we couldn’t tell, as if you each didn’t know yourselves.” The boy huffed with a smirk. “Dustin and I used to joke about what excuse you two would pull out of a hat for Will to stay over.”

“There were never any excuses!”

Lucas laughed again. “I know but it was fun to guess. Point is, hell yeah we know. I love El and really wanted you two to work things out because you each make each other happy and you deserve that. We all do.” Mike nodded solemnly. “Still, there was always a part of me that hoped that maybe, just maybe, you and Will could find happiness together like before the Demogorgon.”

“Wow.” Mike slowed his bike as they rolled down a hill. “You know, speaking of the Demogorgon, I think I’m gonna tell my mom about everything that happened.”

Lucas gaped. “You’re what ? I thought you were gonna keep that locked up forever.”

“Yeah, but…” Mike glared at the ground. “She helped me and Will get together. She wants me to be happy and the only way that’s gonna happen is if she knows why I’m not.”

“Well, at least you’re admitting it now.”

“That I’m dating Will or that I’m depressed?”

“Both but I meant your depression.” Lucas sighed. “I know you don’t like talking about it and you like pretending that life doesn’t terrify you, but it’s okay to speak up with us. Me, Dustin, and Max. We want you to feel better, too. Don’t forget that.”

Mike’s voice was a low whisper when he replied. “I know. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, man,” groaned Lucas as he scuffed his tire against the curb, “Friends don’t need apologies or whatever for being friends.”

“I know, but—,”

“Shut up, Mike, and let it go, alright?” The boy sent Mike a warm smile. “You love to talk but right now just, I don’t know, listen and find comfort in that, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“I said shut up.”

Mike rolled his eyes and steered his bike toward Lucas, who yelped and sped up his pace to avoid collision. Mike laughed and watched Lucas catch up to Dustin and Will loudly exclaiming how Mike was trying to run him into the snow. The rest of the ride to the Wheeler’s was spent in silence but Mike could feel the anxiety bubbling inside as he thought about what he would tell his mom. Will parked his bike beside him when they arrived, gently gripping his arm while everyone also attempted to suspend the inevitable split up caused by arrival.

“Good luck,” Lucas muttered when he hopped off his bike to give Mike a hug. “Call me if you need anything, alright?”

“Of course, dude.” Mike chuckled and hugged his friend back. “See you tomorrow.”

El hopped off Max’s bike and made her way to Mike and Will with a small hum. Max waved goodbye and the three watched their friends bike away as the chill of winter sank into their bones. Will shivered and Mike grabbed his hand to lead him inside, turning to hold out a hand for El as well. She blinked twice and frowned but took his hand, too, gently twining their fingers in a promise that the anger and heartbreak wouldn’t keep them from being friends. Not for long at least.

With his closest friends’ hands in his own, Mike felt courage seep into his soul and feed him the strength he needed to tell his mom the truth behind his misery.

“Mom,” he called out shakily, Will’s grip tightening with much-needed comfort.

His mom was upstairs but she came down at the sound of Mike’s voice and smiled warmly as she saw him holding hands with Will and El. “Mike,” she started happily, “I’m assuming the lunch meet went well.”

“Really well,” Mike shuffled on his feet and sent El a glance. “I, uh, I actually need to tell you something really important. And you can’t tell anyone else.”

She raised her eyebrows and tentatively sat down on the couch. “You know I won’t tell anyone about...about you liking boys. I’ll love you still, I do love you still.

Mike coughed and looked upstairs in hopes that his dad wasn’t eavesdropping. “No, I mean, I do but that’s not this conversation.”

And what a weird thing to confess about so easily. Mike liked boys. Only boys. And he confirmed it so easily like any other ‘yes or no’ question. Something in his gut churned, a mixture of relief that his mom truly didn’t care and loved him still, and fright that he confirmed aloud that his attraction to boys and boys only was real.

“What’s going on, Mike?”

The boy turned to Will and then sent his mom an apologetic glance. “When Will disappeared in ‘83, he didn’t just disappear. He was kidnapped by a monster from another dimension that got to him through a gate El opened with her mind.”

Mike’s mom blinked twice and then started laughing though she tried to hide it with a hand to her mouth. “Is that the story you kids told yourselves to deal with the fact he was missing?”

“No, Mrs. Wheeler, it’s real.” Will lifted up his shirt just enough for the burn scar to be visible. It made Mike sick to think about it, think about how they had to burn the Mind Flayer out of Will. “This scar isn’t from the stove. The monster possessed me in ‘84 and my mom and Mike and Hopper helped excise it from me. El closed the gate, too.”

“And then in ‘85,” Mike swallowed the lump in his throat, “the monster came back and...it melted our neighbors into a machine made of human flesh, blood, and bone. The gate was reopened and Hopper died trying to close it.”

“I was the one who found Will,” El spoke up hesitantly. “I found him in my mind. I can find anyone in my mind.”

Mike sent her a smile. “El has really cool powers actually; she can flip cars and levitate objects and I actually hid her in the basement during ‘83 while Will was missing.” Karen’s jaw dropped. “I’m still amazed you didn’t notice.”

“Can she,” Karen turned to El with curiosity. “Can she demonstrate?”

El shifted uncomfortably and Will spoke up. “Her powers are gone now thanks to the monster but it’s real. It’s all real.”

Karen blinked multiple times, eyes darting between the three kids with disbelief written in her eyes. She settled her gaze on Mike and crumpled. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

Mike was stuck between surprise that she accepted everything so easily and guilt that he kept this to himself for so long. “I legally couldn’t; the US government is involved in all of this,” he waved between himself, Will, and El, “but you deserve to know why...why I needed therapy. Why I can’t sleep at night, how me and El met in the first place, why I fell apart when the Byers left. Why I’m so fucked up.”

Will’s grip on his hand tightened just enough and he presses himself closer to Mike’s side as a comforting force against his rapidly declining thoughts. Karen stood up and made her way to Mike with tears pooling in her emotional eyes. He was taller than her, head bowed down as he fought his own tears back— pathetic; be a leader, Michael —but he managed to make eye contact with her regardless.

“You are dealing with so much, my dear,” she started quietly. “I’m sorry you felt you had to carry the burden yourself.”

“Dustin and Lucas and Max know. Nancy, too.” Mike rubbed at the back of his neck. “The monster got Barb back then.”

Karen gasped with a hand to her mouth. “Oh, poor girl.” The woman closed her eyes to keep her tears back and then opened them with a shaky smile drawn on her painted lips. “I’m so glad you finally told me.”

Mike shrugged but he could feel happiness threatening to blossom in his chest. “I, uh, well, having Will and El back reminded me that I don’t have anyone else in the house who knows . Nancy does yeah but she doesn’t like to talk about it. And neither do I really but she’s my sister and we don’t talk about a lot of things.”

“You two are close.”

“Yeah, but she doesn’t know that I don’t even want to be on the track team but she looks so happy seeing me on the field; I can’t take that away from her!” Mike clenched his fists angrily as the words spilled from his mouth. “She doesn’t know about me and Will or that I’m—,” the word wouldn’t come out but Mike knew they all knew what he wanted to say. “She doesn’t know a lot of things. But you do. Everything but the secret about the Upside Down. And I can’t keep this up! This lie about who I am, what I’ve seen, what I’ve done .”

Karen rushed to take Mike in her arms and he fell into her embrace just as quickly. Mike felt Will and El release his hands so he could wrap his arms around his mom and hug her tightly. She was sniffling a little, gently rubbing his back and it made Mike feel like a kid again but in a good way. It made him feel like he was 6 or 7, being soothed after falling off his bike in the driveway and scratching his knee. It made him feel like what he just relayed to his mom could easily be bandaged over like that scrape.

“Mike, I love you.” was all she said and it was all Mike wanted to hear, all he needed to hear. “I just want you to be happy . You can quit track, you can join theater, you can do whatever you want, I don’t care.” She took his face in her hands and fixed him with a steady glare. Mike couldn’t look away even if he wanted to. “If there’s anything I’ve learned in life, it’s learning to be yourself. Let yourself be who you are, not who everyone wants you to be.”

Mike frowned. “Is this why you and Dad are thinking about getting a divorce?”

Karen froze and bowed her head. “Yes. I’m sorry. You weren’t supposed to know.”

“I can handle it. He barely cared about me anyway.” Mike huffed and reached up to squeeze his mom’s hand. “I love you, Mom, yeah? We’ll both be happy.”

Karen grinned and Mike watched her turn to Will and El with equally wide smiles. El was the first to initiate the hug, brown pigtails whipping around with the intensity of the action. Will turned to wrap his arms around Mike from behind and pressed his face into his back with a hum. Mike laid his hands over Will’s and leaned into the touch with a smile. The conversation went a lot easier than Mike thought it would and the weight off his shoulders had him a little weak in the knees.

He was so lucky, oh so lucky , to have the people in his life that he did.

And when New Year’s Eve came the next day, Mike and Will told their friends about their new relationship just as they planned. Dustin pulled the two into one armed hugs, Lucas shared a knowing look with Mike, Max gave Will a high five for it all, and El...she smiled and nodded with approval and even though she already knew thanks to the conversation with his mom the day before, it was great to have her support confirmed.

“10 seconds until the new year,” started Lucas as he rocked Max in his arms.

“8 now!” Dustin shouted as he took El into his own arms for a tight hug. She laughed and patted his cheeks with a wide grin.

“5 seconds,” whispered Will into Mike’s ear as he held him close to his chest. The Party was toward the back of the crowd, hidden from the gazes of Hawkins as all eyes took to the sky in preparation for the fireworks show.

“3.” A warm kiss to the shell of Mike’s ear.

“2.” A lingering kiss to the nape of his neck.

“1.” A soft breath against his cheek.

Mike twisted and grabbed his boyfriend’s face as the crowd cheered Happy New Year and the fireworks lit up the sky. He looked into green eyes, traced the reflection of pyrotechnics in those sparkling orbs, and leaned in for their first kiss of 1987. Will smiled into it, pulled Mike closer, and ignored the whoops and cheers of their friends surrounding them.

“I love you,” Mike murmured when he pulled away, then turned to the rest of his friends. “I love you all, man. You’re the best friends a guy could ask for.”

“And we love you, too, Mike.” Dustin tagged on with a grin. “Our baby leader.”

Mike rolled his eyes and punched the other boy in the arm with a chuckle. El watched him carefully and then reached out a hand for Mike’s own. He passed it along, worry in his chest as her brown eyes filled with emotion he couldn’t understand. “I love you,” she said and it was different. It was different than the last time, not as desperate, not as needy. It was resignation and acceptance in three words, understanding and moving on in one: love .

“I love you, too,” he breathed out and then pulled the younger girl into his arms. She pressed her face into his chest and clung onto his shirt with shaking fists. “Thank you.”

El laughed. “Next time, don’t hide yourself from me. Or Will. Or yourself.”

A chill ran down his spine but he shook it off and straightened the messy hair on her head. “I’ll do my best.”

“That’s all anyone can ask for.”

[almostrealdudes]

Data Recovery (Elliot Alderson x fem!OC)

Pairing: Elliot Alderson x Sophia (OC) Word count: 1.4k Warnings: None Summary: I dreamt of you again. I’d tell you all about it, but I think you already know. I think you saw me too. Our dreams are synchronized. Or was it the reality? I can’t tell. Good things are usually not real in my life. I’m used to it. After everything, it’s hard to believe for something that wonderful to be real. But I still want it to be. Tell me you’re real. Please. A/N: And it’s finally here! The story is getting longer than I intended it to be, but the good news is - I’m slowly figuring out the plot of this thing ahahaaha

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4

Hi. Sorry I kept you in the dark for some time. I needed to clear my head. I figured too much reflexivity would be bad for me. Don’t worry, I’m still skeptical. But if you can’t stop a madman, just let them do what they want, that way it will be over faster.

I want to believe Sophia. I really do. But I can’t. I’m letting her do it her way. Not for her, but for me. I need to prove myself it’s not real. And it’s better to regret something you’ve done than something you wish you’ve done.

We had another date today. If that’s what you want to call it. It was less impulsive. Less emotional. We didn’t kiss. We talked. I think it’s the most normal I’ve seen her. She wasn’t bouncing around or doing anything unpredictable. She’s going to spend the night at my place, to prove a point. Not gonna lie, deep down inside I’m hoping she will convince me. But I really doubt it.

“So, what do you wanna know?” 

I told her if we were to do this, she had to tell me more about herself. 

“Everything.” 

“Didn’t you hack me? Nowadays, it’s all you need to know.”

“I don’t care for that. Besides, it’s obviously fake.”

“Damn. I thought I had a good cover-up.” 

“For common users – maybe.” 

We’re at the pier. It smells like ocean and rain. If I was superstitious, I’d say Sophia’s mood affects the weather. But that’s impossible, right? 

“So?” It’s so obvious she doesn’t want to talk about herself. She keeps avoiding all the questions since the second we met. Too bad cause I’m not backing off.

She looks at me. Her smile is sad. She realizes the conversation is inevitable. 

“Who are you?”

“I don’t really know what to tell you.” She looks away, at the ocean, hugging herself. She feels exposed. “I’m nobody. Like millions of others. I eat, I sleep, I pay bills. I rent a shitty apartment in the city center in hopes that the street noise will be louder than my own loneliness. I avoid silence because it makes me think. I work 9 to 5, my friends are people from my work circle who I have nothing in common with but who I still talk to and go out with because I have nothing better to do in my free time. I’ve had a shitty childhood and bad genes, both of which have granted me my current mental record. I’m bipolar, I have anxiety and depression, but this I guess you know already. I stuff myself with medication provided by our healthcare system, which only numbs me more. I don’t have hobbies, I’m not particularly good at anything. I cry myself to sleep. It’s pretty miserable.” 

“Everyone cries.” 

“No. not crying. My whole life. It’s pathetic. Was.” 

She finally looks back at me. Her eyes are watery. 

“Elliot, when I met you, I felt my life begin. It received purpose. I’ve never known what purpose even is, I’ve never had one. But now it feels like I do. It feels like my existence finally has meaning. It sounds cliché and stupid, I know. But it’s true. Those dreams I’m having, memories of alternative lives, it’s all I have. I know you’d rather do anything else but listen to me talk about it, but I swear on my fucking life it’s true.” 

I watch her eyes shift around my features, looking for a reaction. So that’s her. Little, vulnerable, endlessly sad. Desperate for intimacy, desperate to feel something apart from her everyday suburban suffering. She hates it. We’re a lot more similar than I thought. 

“You have to understand how I feel.” 

“I do. Your reaction is only fair. My plan was to wait a lot more before telling you. But the way I feel around you – it’s too much to handle on my own.” 

Well, at least we can agree on that. 

“I know what you mean.” 

She smiles, happy with my answer. 

“I’m gonna go to the bathroom. Please don’t run away, okay?” 

“Now that you’ve mentioned it.” I joke. I guess I’m finally feeling comfortable enough. She giggles and stands up. I watch her go to the restroom door. Yeah. I can lie to myself how much I want but we both know I can’t be indifferent to her no matter how hard I try. 

“Oh, come on.” 

He’s back. 

“Yeah, and it’s about damn time! Can’t leave you for even a second, you immediately start making questionable choices.” 

“I’ve been quite good until this exact second, actually.” 

“Oh yeah, you have. How’s dealing with a lunatic been treating you? Have you finally lost your last bits of sanity?” 

“With you here, I probably will.” 

“Don’t get this twisted, kid. I’m the only thing that helps you think clearly.” 

“Yeah. Talking to my imaginary dead father is really helping my mental health.” 

“And talking to her?” 

“When I’m with Sophia I’m the happiest I’ve been in a long time.” 

“She is bipolar! They are fun to have around when they’re at their best, but next thing you know – she’s gonna try to cut herself, or you, what’s worse.” 

“She’s taking her meds.” 

“Are you defending her? Jesus, haven’t you learned a thing by now? How many people are you going to shield until they stab you from the back?” 

“I think you should go.” 

“We are one. You know what that means? It means I’m saying what you’re thinking. You’re full of doubts and you just don’t want to admit it because apparently, some crazy fairytale is worth it.” 

“Or maybe the only thing preventing me from being happy is me. You, to be specific.” 

“This is just an unjustified risk.” 

“What is? My happiness? You know, as much as we talk about taking care of me, my well-being never seems to be a top priority.” 

“It is. But this is not a way to achieve it.” 

“Hey, so you didn’t run after all! That says something.” It’s Sophia. 

Mr. Robot had enough spotlight for today. I don’t want to give him any more attention. I’ve been doing great before he got here, you saw it yourself. Wouldn’t you agree I’m better off without him? 

“Are you ready to go?” 

I am. 

“Elliot? What’s wrong?” 

I said I am. 

Huh? 

Can’t she hear me? What’s going on? Where is she looking? Why— 

Oh no. 

“So you’re Sophia.” 

You fucking asshole. Stop it. 

“Wh—Eliot, are you high? What happened when I was in the bathroom?” 

Don’t. 

“How long are you planning on fucking around with him?” 

Let me back in, you’re ruining it! 

“Enough of this. It’s been fun, but all things come to an end. I’m pretty sure now is a great time to stop this one.” 

Don’t, you’ll make her leave! 

“Who are you?” 

I can see Sophia’s brows frowning. Her gaze has changed. I haven’t seen this before. She’s suddenly so serious, cautious. She can tell. 

“Does it matter?” 

“Who are you?” Sophia repeats, adding more force to her voice. 

“Your dear Elliot calls me Mr. Robot. Too predictable, if you ask me, but I don’t complain. I’m afraid he is way too sentimental to take a sober view of this situation, so I had to step in. I’m here to tell you that we no longer share common interests.” 

“You and me – no. But whatever it is I share with Elliot, it’s only his business and mine. I don’t think it concerns you.” 

“Whatever concerns Elliot – concerns me too.” 

“Does he even want you here?” 

No, I don’t. 

“Yes, he does.” 

“Elliot, if you want me to leave – I will. But if you want me to stay, please tell me. 

No. 

No, I don’t want her to leave. 

I don’t fucking care if she’s right or not, I don’t want her to leave. 

I think I can reclaim control, at least a little. I have to.

“Elliot, don’t!” 

I manage to grab Sophia’s hand. She finally looks at me. God, finally. I hear Mr. Robot clicking his tongue behind me, but I don’t care about him anymore. If anything, he proved the one thing I couldn’t fully figure out. I can’t bear being away from her. 

“Sorry.” It’s all I manage to blurt out. It’s suddenly hard to speak. Everything’s blurry.

“Let’s go home.”

[junkyardlynx]

Ch. 2

The town was blanketed in a cold silence as we walked shoulder to shoulder down the road. The sun had long ago dissolved into the comfort of night, leaving the weighty task of illumination to the dull streetlamps and the waning crescent of the moon. A tender warmth radiated through my right hand, soaking through my pale skin.

“Is it really a good idea to bring me to your super secret safehouse?” Sarisa teased, jerking my hand towards her. “I could be a plant put here in some nefarious plot. I’m clever, pretty, and I’m pretty sure I cast a spell on you when we were little that demanded your undying love. A true triple threat.”

"I think I'm a quarter undead on my dad's side, so I don't know if actual undying love is something you particularly want from me."

I knew she was trying to lighten the mood, and our jokes came naturally. Plus, I’m also rather sure love spells didn’t exist since emotions like love are extremely strong and hard to properly control.

Not that it stopped Sarisa from trying when we were kids.

“Don’t believe me? Right now I have you in the palm of my hand and you’re taking me by foot to a place you could call a sanctuary. When we step past the wards, maybe I’ll draw my curved dagger and-!” Breaking her train of thought, she pushed me in front of her, raising her right hand in a mock stabbing motion. I spun on my heel out of instinct, but did nothing as her closed fist tapped my chest. Putting on a look of deep satisfaction, Sarisa nodded.

“With great force, I thrust it in. It penetrates. In the end we are all satisfied, and you are set free.”

My laughter split the night, with Sarisa’s following a second later. She always had this penchant for jokes when the atmosphere got too heavy. I suppose there’s no choice but being great at reading the mood when your best friend doesn't speak much. I was always envious of her prodigious talent at, well, everything.

We walked along the road in the summer night, hands no longer joined, but our shoulders remaining close. The blood on my hand had long dried and I picked absently at the flecks, mind lost in thought. My brain urged haste but my body refused to follow through. From a logical standpoint I knew we had time, and we needed to plan a course of action anyway, so undue haste was meaningless. From an emotional standpoint though, I was in turmoil.

I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was drawing everyone into a spiral of destruction. My mother and father. My town. My best friend. She came along without a question and with open arms, plunging into what would probably be a rondo of blood. It bothered me. If what my father said was true, my magic was like a whirlpool. Little could stand against the current and those in my path would be swept up to be pulled under in the end without much thought or reason, motivated by some sort of overpowering compulsion. I didn’t like it.

My feet had mechanically continued the motion of walking, but I found myself stopped. The footsteps next to me came to a halt a moment later, and the soft scratching of pavement told me that she had pivoted to look at me. I looked up to meet her gaze, guilt washing over me as I tried to find the words.

“Stop.” Sarisa’s voice was crystallized power, temporarily breaking my reverie. Confusion set in on my face, but she continued.

“You haven’t told me the circumstances, but they’re obviously dire. I don’t care. It doesn’t matter. I’m free to make my own choices, and I choose to help the idiot that I’ve been graced with. The idiot that probably spends valuable time worrying about the people who care about him when it’s the time to worry about himself. Just tell me at some point, okay? Being left in the dark isn't fun unless there's shitty music and glow sticks.”

My gaze faltered. Her’s didn’t.

“I could always remind you of the time you came after me in our tenth year when that warlock wannabe tried to kidnap me. You were acting like some big action hero. Well, I don't know how many big action heroes turn people into actual mincemeat.” Sarisa smiled. Sure, academically I knew she could have handled herself in that situation, but who reacts in a logical way when the person they care about is in anything close to danger? Well, probably some people. Not myself. I realized we had resumed walking, and were almost at the bridge where the safehouse was, but it seems our trip down memory lane wasn’t quite over.

“Or that one time a Mage Hunter managed to catch you outside after you were training with your dad. You were pretty drained, yeah? I know you probably wanted to kick his ass yourself but it  didn’t stop me from breaking his jaw the second I saw you were in trouble.”

She smirked when my cheeks went red. I wanted to make a point to by knocking him out in one hit but he just kept swinging that oversized scimitar like a madman. I hated Mage Hunters - people who had just enough power to be dangerous and just enough sense to be senseless - so I wanted to kick his assassin...ass without magic. I chose to remember the part where she protected me, though. It was a better memory.

"My point is, well. Where I go, you go, and where you go, I go. It's always been this way. And...I don't want it to change. Not that part, at least." Words unspoken hung between us, that elusive "something" that we'd recently awoken to.  I met her eyes and nodded. Was it the dying sun that tinted her cheeks? I don't know, but...

I didn't want it to change either. Not that part, at least.

Our feet carried us down the slope and to the barren concrete wall that supported the bridge above us. Placing my right hand on the slab, I channeled my power through my fingertips as I spoke the words of unlocking and revealing. A portion of the wall disappeared in a flash of red, revealing an ornate door. As I placed my hand on the knob, I felt a strange sensation of apprehension wash over me. Shaking my head, I decided it was nothing and gently pushed open the door.

A stench of blood and carrion assailed us. Even from the dark doorway, we could make out trails of gore and viscera, bone and fat clinging to concrete.

I recoiled visibly, and Sarisa’s hand found mine for a fleeting moment. I wouldn't usually be this affected, but tonight...ah, tonight, I was on edge. I nodded curtly to her, and we stepped into this unknown hell called a safehouse.

[chckpeas]

Entry 11. Sundays.

Posted and wrote this on the 9th of April, 2019. Look I started dating the entries because I guess that makes shit easier to read. If you noticed, or not, I have continued to post images and entries during my ‘break’. Despite having to wake up at 6 am almost every day, end-March to April has been really good for me so far. I’m absolutely loving the weather, spring vibes and how shit is slowly unpacking for me. I feel like I haven’t wasted a day so far. Every day I’ve done something productive or something that made me happy or something that would help me continue to develop myself. For instance, I went through old photoshoots I did and edited pictures, hung out with friends, looked and felt good everyday (by putting on some makeup and dressing up again), discovered new music, watched old movies, indulged myself in my astrology natal chart but also re-read old conversations and reflected on past-me. Anyways, my favourite day so far was last Sunday. It was a perfect day and even more perfect Sunday. I could sleep in, went to work and had a lovely shift. Then I went for smoothies and ate a sandwich with one of my best friends and we sat in the sun which was so so so lovely and the smoothies and food was so fucking good, I’m definitely gonna go there more often. We hung-out till the late afternoon and had a really good conversation -- in my opinion. I kinda forgot how educated I actually am, like in terms of politics and history, and it was very nice to like ‘apply’ what I learned. I realized that I definitely need to pick those topics up again, it makes me feel more fulfilled as a person, if that makes any sense.  Then, I had to go home to get ready because I was gonna hang out with ***, for some reason I felt very nervous as I cycled towards his. When I arrived at his, he kinda surprised me and wanted to take me to kardinge to like walk through nature and you know chill there. At first it was a bit weird because his ex-girlfriend or whatever called because there was some drama with her boyfriend using her phone to text *** about stuff -- I would instantaneously break up with my s.o. if they did that with me. Anyways, he told her that he was seeing someone else now and that he was with that person atm as he smiled at me -- cute. I think we walked around for like 2 hours and our conversations ranged from the dumbest shit to more in-depth convos. I’m always like amazed how there are these few people in my life who I can non-stop talk to. Like literally non-stop. But to continue, he kept grabbing my hand to hold and stuff and I would pull away cuz I’m stupid. I noticed that as we walked past people they would smile at us for some reason. We “”hiked”” up this hill and climbed this watchtower thingy which was obviously not made for people his height lmfao. At the top, we made out and jokingly contemplated having sex -- which would have been actually not too bad of an idea if it weren’t for all the little kids playing below us hahahahahahaha. He kept trying to break my cool by trying to turn me on -- lol I have hickeys all over my neck because of that.  After that, we went back to his place and went on his balcony for a bit and drank prosecco. As he grabbed my hand to hold, homeboy noticed after for fucking ever how tiny my hands are. Apparently having hands the size of a child is ‘cute’. Anyways then we liked chilled in our undies having good conversation. He kept rubbing his hands all over me and kept giving me these cute lil pecks over my body and on my forehead and cheeks, rubbing his fingers through my hair and shit -- he did this a lot during our walk as well -- and I remember thinking that we shouldn’t be kissing this much and he shouldn’t be this affectionate towards someone who is, at the end of the day, only his fuck buddy. He was also never this affectionate with me before. Maybe I’m jus overthinking shit -- I tend to do that a lot ;) -- but then again I have never experienced this much and type of affection with people who I was with before lol -- then again, I could also have a shitty taste in the people I date el oh el.  Obviously, we did the whole shabam. AND DEAR MOTHERFUCKING GOD IT WAS SO FUCKING PASSIONATE AND ROUGH AT THE SAME TIME SO CRAZY GOOD I- I CANT EVEN BEGIN TO DESCRIBE IT but yEA. May I note how it’s so fucking hot when you keep eye contact with someone as you guys are having sex, big oooooooooof. As I run through the memory I can mainly remember his like ‘face actions’ as my guts were being pounded out lmfao. Afterwards, we again kissed a lot and I remember this specific look he had on his face every time he would hover over me to lean in and kiss me. Pillow talk involved more kissing than usual and convo was good as usual. We went up to his roof to look at the stars and shit. Then we had sex again -- inside obviously, or maybe that isn’t so obvious lmfao. After that we ate cuz it was fucking late and watched Narcos before I slept in his arms as we always do. Besides the sex part, I really like the fact that I always can use him as a big ass pillow and lie half on him or that we spoon, basically that we always cuddle and sleep together -- I always wonder how his arm doesn’t numb out. Well. That was the end of a post that may seem like one big romanticization. Idk I always pick up on small details and changes in peoples behaviour and I can sense people’s moods and all that shit pretty well. And yea, I do overthink, I know that. Anyways, by writing out like I’m doing right now, I hope I can retain my cool and try to put the experience in the box of me not trying to overthink about it as I also believe that he probably doesn’t think too much of it and probably doesn’t care about me in that way anyways. In that way I hope to prevent me starting to like him again. I don’t trust him, not at all. I’m hella cautious; I definitely won’t let my feelings get hurt by him once again. I mean I’m fully prepared for him to try and hit on someone else during prom, as he basically did after my exam -- when he talked about that night he didn’t directly spoke about *that* specific thingy but it kinda felt like he was trying to justify *it* by putting such a big emphasis on how wasted he was and how it was a boys night or whateva. Besides that, I want things to stay chill with no pressure and part of me is still emotionally with someone else because that feels -- and is imo -- super unfinished. However, this day did open up a view of *** I didn’t have before. He made himself more ‘human’ if that makes any sense. I also realize that he (un)intentionally(????) puts up this asshole stigma whilst he actually is quite a sweetheart and good friend and shit. Naja. That was that, and on to the next good day (:

[sweetnestor]

Stone Cold | december pt. 3

university au + platonic + romantic + angst, teamiplier + jack

sequel to: Story of Another Us | also on ao3 | previous chapter

Bella’s song choice: No More Sad Songs by Little Mix

I woke up the next morning to the sound of my own snoring. I turned over in the bed, nearly forgetting that I slept in Jack’s room. I sat up, realizing that the green man was nowhere to be seen. When I pulled up my phone to check the time, I saw at text from him.

“Didn’t want to wake you, so I took the bus to school! I’ll text you when I’m out!”

Thoughtful.

It was half past eleven. I actually managed to sleep without waking up throughout the night, a rare occurrence. It’s even more rare when I know I have a guest coming over the next day. I rolled out of bed, knowing that he was going to show up at one point or another. I put my unwashed hair in a ponytail, then I did my makeup. Sure, Ethan and I would be hanging out here, but I wanted to look nice regardless.

Although, in the middle of my routine, it occurred to me that Ethan never specifically said what time he would be showing up. All he said was that he was going to be coming over. I contoured stressfully. I highlighted urgently. I had to skip winged eyeliner because my hands started shaking. By the time I finished, I heard a knock on the door. I almost relaxed, until I remembered that Jack wasn’t here to answer the door for me.

It’s not Ethan, a voice in my head warned. You’re probably getting evicted. Or it’s the scary mailman. Or maybe it’s a stalker.

I slowed my steps to the door, my heart palpitating. Just before I could panic, my phone buzzed in my hand. I sighed when Ethan confirmed through text that he was at the door. I had kept him waiting for a bit while I had that internal crisis. Oops.

When I opened the door, I didn’t expect to be greeted by a dog. Specifically, Chica. I gasped in shock, which made Ethan smile and Chica wag her tail.

“Beeka!” I exclaimed. “What are you doing here?”

I stepped aside to let them in, and then I attacked Chica with cuddles. I was so pleasantly surprised to see her after so long, I could have bawled my eyes out. I didn’t even care that she licked my face just after doing my makeup, I was completely over the moon.

“I heard somewhere that you missed her,” Ethan explained as he squatted to our level on the floor. “And she missed you too.”

“Aww,” I cooed, hugging the sweet dog. “I can’t believe you did this!”

As happy as I was too see her again, a certain thought plagued the back of my head. It was enough to make my heightened mood falter a little bit.

“Does Mark know… does he know where you took his child?” I asked.

Ethan hesitated, which only worsened my mood. “I'm supposed to take her to the field at YTU for a walk. And he's supposed to meet me there later.”

“Ethan,” I said urgently.

“And that's why,” he continued, “I came here first. I wanted to see if you wanted to come with me.”

“That would require having to see Mark,” I pointed out. That also brought forth the fact that I was still salty with my ex-boyfriend, which made the air a little awkward.

“No,” Ethan said after the moment passed. “You don't have to stay long if you don't want to. I know things are, uh, weird with you guys. I just… I-I mean, I… I wanted to see you for a little bit. A-And so did Chica! I mean, look at her.”

She was on her back, her dopey face making my heart go soft. I made eye contact with Ethan, whose face also made my heart soften up.

“Alright, then. Do you wanna go now?”

Ethan's face lit up. “Yeah! I can drive!”

That sent my mind to dark, scary places. I was never not driving. How could I just… not drive?

“Um, how about I meet you there?” I offered. “I mean, I'm gonna have to take Jack home later, like when you're in class or something… so like…”

“Oh, okay. I'll, uh, see you there. You know where the field is, right?”

Nope. “Yeah! I'll find you guys!”

Thankfully, we got there around the same time, so nobody got lost. I had never been to the “football” field at YTU before, so I was having some major butterflies and chest pains. All I knew was that it was as big as a football field, despite that the university didn’t have an official team. Or any sports team, besides dance. It was a place I've never been to before with my ex-boyfriend's dog and the guy I now wanted to be my boyfriend. It was sending my anxiety down to the pits of hell.

There was one class out on the opposite end of the field when we got there. Despite the cold, bitter weather, my palms and the back of my neck were were sweating. But I got to hold the leash as we walked Chica, so that helped subside the general anxiety.

“Do you like the campus?” I asked, my voice shaking slightly.

“Yeah, it's amazing,” Ethan replied. “Now I know where all our pay cuts went to.”

I chuckled. “Well, you're not wrong.”

“I really wanted to get a dorm here, but I guess if you can't afford a single one then you're randomly assigned a roommate,” he explained. “And I really didn't want that.”

“Oh yeah, I know what you mean. That's what made me get my own apartment.”

We talked while walking around the field. Things got easier the longer we were there. The butterflies came and went, making me unable to tell if it was the normal butterflies or not.

“I still can’t believe you snuck her to my house,” I said, looking down at Chica.

“Well, you told me you missed her,” Ethan said, “and I just assumed you’d want to see her again… without having to see Mark.”

Considerate.

“That would be correct. Drunk Bella did one good thing for me.”

He chuckled. “When were you drunk?”

I hesitated. I didn’t want him to think I was some raging alcoholic, or that I was out partying every weekend. Oh god, this was bad. I couldn’t lie to him.

“Come on, what were you doing, Bella?” he playfully teased, poking my shoulder.

“Um… when we were talking after your stream on Saturday,” I admitted. “Had some whiskey. It was… lit.”

“Was this the same night you and Jack ate those peppers?”

Oh god, he thinks I’m dating Jack. No, no, I’m single and sad even though I didn’t want to be. Even though I rejected Ethan a couple of weeks back, I still wanted to date him. But he probably thought we were out here just as friends.

“Yeah,” I said. “Uh, you know: Just little things with your roommate.”

“Oh, I didn’t know you guys lived together.”

Well, now I’m just digging myself deeper. Now I had to use logic to calm myself down.

“He stays at my place during the semester,” I explained nervously. “I have an extra room… and uh, technically Mark was the one who pretty much made him stay with me.”

“Oh wait!” Ethan exclaimed, palming his forehead. “Jack did mention that! He told me that…” He paused, almost like he was choosing his words carefully. “He said that… Mark didn’t like you guys living together, like, while you guys were dating.”

I looked down at the grass, my heart palpitating at that memory. Yes, palpitating. Usually, I block panic attacks out of my head from how traumatic they are, but the one caused by that argument was harder to suppress. I chewed the inside of my cheek before speaking again.

“He got… jealous,” I told Ethan, deciding to be honest. “I don’t have many friends at all. Jack was the first friend I made in a long while, and we got close pretty fast. That happened mainly because back in like, January, Mark suggested that Jack should live with me for the semester. Then he got upset, and we argued, and I had a pretty bad panic attack. But uh, me and Jack are still friends so that’s all that matters to me.”

The silence between us got nerve wracking pretty quickly. Surely Ethan was going to be on Mark’s side about this. Frankly, I didn’t want to hear it.

“But anyway, I don’t wanna rant too much about my ex,” I said, glossing over the subject.

“Mark made you have a panic attack?” Ethan asked. “That’s a little fucked up.”

“Yeah,” I agreed. “It was shitty, but we got over it.” And then a few months later, he left me.

It felt weird talking about my ex to Ethan, who now worked for him. It was even weirder now that his feelings were out and about. I had to talk about other things now, and only one particular thing came to mind.

“You, uh, you said you have ADHD?” I asked, hoping I didn't hit a nerve. “Or, uh, you told me you understood having a mental illness…”

“Yeah,” he replied, yet it didn't feel like the mood darkened. “Since I was a kid. It was pretty bad. Or, it is pretty bad.”

Is this how normal people felt when they pestered mentally ill people with invasive questions? I didn't want to be annoying, but I was curious. I wanted to know more about his condition, especially if we were eventually going to start seeing each other. I wanted to know how it would affect us, like my anxiety would.

“I don't wanna be nosy o-or invasive-” I began.

“You can ask me anything,” Ethan said.

I quietly sighed in relief. “So you said it is pretty bad. Have you never been treated for it?”

“Yeah, I used to be on medication when I was in high school. But the side effects changed my personality so much that it wasn't worth it for me,” he explained. “I felt like a completely different person, and I didn't like it. Now, I'm finding other ways to deal with it.”

I know the feeling of medication. Granted, I was only on it for six days, but I did feel plenty of drastic changes.

“Can I ask about your anxiety?” Ethan suddenly prompted.

The shift was unexpected, but I nodded. Here we go.

“Do specific things make you anxious?”

“You want a list?” I asked in response.

He chuckled. “Why not?”

Oh god, he's serious. I hesitated, trying to shake it off with a laugh. He should know, it would explain a lot of my behavior.

“I-It just sounds really dumb when I say any of it out loud,” I explained sheepishly.

“Aww no,” he consoled. “Hey, look. I have days where I can't form a coherent sentence. Sometimes I put my phone down for two minutes and I'll forget where I've put it. Sometimes I just really, really want to sleep, but my mind is so restless that it doesn't let me. And… what was I talking about?”

I was touched that he shared all of that so easily. I couldn't help but smile. “Specific triggers and quirks about our disorders,” I reminded him.

“Right…” He looked at me, returning the smile. “Now it's your turn.”

“Okay.” I took a deep breath. “I'm absolutely terrified of answering the phone. I exclusively text and email, or whatever doesn’t require speaking. I can't be in crowded spaces or parties, especially by myself. In class, I either sit in the back or close to the wall, and I don't know why, I just have to. And… I have a huge laundry list of triggers...”

“Wait, parties?” Ethan repeated. “But you went to homecoming.”

“Yeah, I had tequila to help me cope with that. And I don't like having to drink in order to cope with social situations, so I don't go out.”

He hummed. “That's why you were so talkative.”

I blushed at the memory, even though it was still kind of blurry. “Oh god, if I said anything too personal or embarrassing… Oh god, I'm so sorry.”

Ethan smiled wider. “It's okay. It was nice to talk to someone, especially because I was - or, still am - new here. It was fun.”

Still embarrassing. Still made me want to die inside. That was also the second time I mentioned drinking to cope, so now he definitely thought I was some unstable alcoholic.

“Well, I'm glad my drunk self provided some entertainment for you,” I told him.

“Are you nervous right now?” he asked.

There's this weird thing where I'll be anxious about something, but I would ignore it and let it sit in the back of my head. Then, when it's pointed out, it would come back a bit more intense than it already was. So when Ethan inadvertently made me think about the bad case of nerves I was experiencing, I hesitated and looked at him with urgent eyes.

“That's a yes,” he assumed. “Oh no, did I do something?”

“No, no, no, no!” I quickly said. “No, it's not you, it's just - fuck, can we sit down?”

We stopped in our tracks and sat on the grass. Chica graciously lied between us, and I was even more grateful that she was here. The more I pet her and looked at her happy face, the quicker the nerves came down.

“Are you okay?” Ethan asked cautiously. “Do you need anything?”

I shook my head, trying to slow my breathing. My head was spinning. “I just, it's that… I get anxious over everything.” I started to ramble. “Like, I can't answer the phone, or the door… I can't go to the store without crying in the car for fifteen minutes before going inside. I'm nervous about every little thing, so this… it's nothing you did or said. Sometimes I can't tell what's normal nerves or irrational nerves. But, on the bright side, I'm not having a panic attack.” I said all of this very quickly and breathlessly.

He was nodding at every word. “Okay… so you're fine?”

“I will be. I'm so sorry.”

“It's okay, you can't really help it. Right?”

Exactly. I can't help it, this is just how it is. It's what we have to deal with.

I nodded, feeling the sense of self-loathing. I couldn't just have a simple walk with a cute guy and a cute dog, could I? “Can I ask you another question about your ADHD?”

“Sure.”

“Do you ever hate it?”

He paused for a moment. I could tell he was looking at me, but I didn't return the gaze. “I have my moments, or days, where it really fucking sucks. I used to resent it when I was younger. But now, I think it… adds a little spark to my personality. Like, if there was a cure for it, I wouldn't take it, because it's helped shape me into who I am now. And… I like who I am.”

This isn't relatable anymore. In fact, I wanted to cry, but I couldn't do it in front of him. I just focused on petting Chica.

“I wish I could be like that,” I admitted. I could have explained more about how much I hated having anxiety disorder, and how much it's taken away from me. But this time with Ethan was supposed to be fun and happy, and I already ruined it.

Ethan was about to say something else, had he not heard his name called from a distance away. He turned, and well… I should have left a while ago. Or maybe I shouldn’t have come at all.

“Shit,” I whispered as I saw Mark walking towards us.

We both stood up, and I quickly gave the leash to Ethan. My life was flashing before my eyes, I just couldn’t look like it. My eyes stayed on the top of Chica’s head.

“Hey,” Ethan greeted, sounding cautious. “When did you get here?”

“Just now,” Mark replied. “What’s going on here? You guys know each other?”

“Y-Yeah. We’re friends.” He sounded nervous.

“I told him the other day how much I missed Chica,” I added, suddenly looking up. “He invited me out here.”

Mark nodded once. I could be super paranoid, but I felt bad vibes. My anxiety was suddenly replaced with defense.

“How long has this been going on?” he asked.

“‘Why? Is there a problem?” I said back.

He scoffed. “Well, my friend and my ex-girlfriend apparently know each other. I’m guessing you guys started talking after Ethan moved here… did no one care to think how I’d feel about that?”

“I’m sorry,” Ethan said, looking down.

My defense and anger only went up. I wanted to protect him. I glared at Mark.

“I hang out with Jack, are you going to yell at him again?” I asked spitefully.

“Well, how do you think I should react to this?” His deep voice was intimidating, but somehow I stood my ground.

“I think what I do in my spare time and what Ethan does in his spare time shouldn’t concern you,” I snarked.

Mark narrowed his eyes. “Ethan, can you take Chica to my car?”

He passed his keys over to the silent boy next to me. I felt awful that Mark was probably going to give him shit about this later. I wanted to protect him from that. I wanted to take all the shit for him.

“What are you doing, Bella?” Mark asked when Ethan was out of earshot.

I folded my arms and gave him a look. “Nothing. What do you think I’m doing?”

“I don’t know. Since when do you talk to my editor?”

“Since I was sitting alone at homecoming and he didn’t know anybody, so we kept each other company!” I stepped closer to Mark, holding up an angry finger. “I swear to god, if you give Ethan a hard time about this - if you start treating him the way you did to Matt and Ryan-”

“I’m not-”

“So help me god-”

“I’m not going to yell at him!” Mark snapped. “Just… why do you always end up taking my friends?”

I shrugged, still exasperated. “You’re friends with decent people! And I’m not in any place to pass of friendship right now. It’s not my fault Ethan’s a sweetheart!”

Mark didn’t like those words apparently. “Yeah? Are you telling him all your deep dark secrets as well?”

“It always goes back to that, doesn’t it?” I asked. I wanted to pull my hair out. How dare he throw that in my face.

“You’re not the only one who was hurting in our relationship, Bella.”

“Well, you dropped me unexpectedly and then found someone new, so if you wanna talk about pain…” I paused to let out a spiteful laugh. “You made me feel like everything was going to be okay. You made me feel safe and secure… so much, that I actually thought about a future with you.”

“You had a shitty way of showing it,” Mark said resentfully. “I was giving everything I had to be there for you. I was fighting for you, for us! But every time I took one step forward, you took ten steps back! Then you decided to put all of your trust into someone who wasn’t me, your boyfriend! It was like you stopped trying to trust me, so I stopped trying too.”

“Then you found stable little Amy,” I grumbled.

“Okay, you know what?” His voice raised. “Everyone’s got their problems! At least stable little Amy doesn’t sit there and play the victim! It’s a two way street, and you weren’t giving anything anymore! With or without Amy, you left me with no choice!”

“You don’t think I wasn’t trying?” I shot back, tears welling up in my eyes. “You were the first person who had gotten through to me in a long time, you think I didn’t appreciate that? You think I wasn’t fighting with myself not to run away? God, I loved you with every fiber of my being! We hit a bump in the road, it happens! We had plenty of time to grow! I had plenty of time to grow, and you knew that! At least I thought you did…”

Mark was shaking his head, and then he looked down. “If you had said any of this sooner… any kind of inkling that showed you were still in this… things would have been so different. Maybe we would have had our future.”

~

I thought I would have been a crying, panicky mess after that conversation. Instead, I was just… sad. We could have been together for a lot longer than nine months. I wanted that. I was so much happier with him. I had it so good, how could I just let it go?

Maybe I should have tried harder to fight with myself. But I still couldn’t understand why he had wanted to stay with me. Despite how painful it was, it made more logical sense in my head for Mark to leave with someone normal. Just as I had thought, he got tired of me and left.

Here I was now, having an interest in Ethan. Who’s to say that it won’t be the same pattern? I’ll close myself off, he’ll find someone new, and then he’ll forget about me. Having that happen once was enough to fuck me up for life. Just thinking about falling for Ethan only for him to find someone new made me want to be sick. I couldn’t have that happen to me again. Did I have to cut him off now to save us both the headache? How could I trust him?

Once I was home with Jack, I decided against both telling him what happened, and texting Ethan. At this point, though, Jack could tell when something was wrong. Being the friend he is, he asked what was wrong.

“It’s nothing,” I said. “Stupid stuff.”

“If it’s bothering you, it’s not stupid,” Jack told me.

My patience was wearing thin. “Well, I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“Was it Ethan? Did he do something?”

“Can you leave me alone?” I snapped. “I said I don’t wanna talk about it!”

I went to my room, trying not to feel guilty over the stunned look on his face. I just wanted to be alone, since that was how I was going to end up living my life. If I stayed alive that long, at least…

At one point, Ethan texted me. The plan was to ignore every interaction of his, but I grabbed my phone like it was a lifeline as soon as it dinged. It was a tough habit to break.

“Hey, Jack told me you were upset. Everything okay?”

Not what I wanted to talk about. Not what I needed. Not talking to you anymore.

My phone dinged again.

“Did I say something wrong? Did Mark do something? I’m sorry either way.”

I shoved my phone into my nightstand drawer and slammed it shut. I was so overwhelmed, I didn’t know what to do with myself. I sat on the floor and leaned against my bed, running my fingers through my hair. I was in a constant state of tension. Mark pissed me off, made me sad, and reminded me why I wasn’t meant to have anything good. Ethan, on the other hand, was pulling me out of the dark. Or, trying to. But I couldn’t let him. He deserved better than that.

Now he was teaming up with Jack to, what? Keep track of me? Why would they do that? Sure, I tried to commit suicide, but I was fine now! I couldn’t have them worrying about me! They didn’t deserve that, they’re better off without me.

Eventually, I heard a knock on my door. I didn’t answer, but Jack entered somewhat urgently anyway. I heard him sigh when he saw me sat on the floor. No, mijo, I’m not dead. Not physically at least.

“You don’t have to say anything,” he told me as he sat next to me. “I was just told that you weren’t answering your texts. I got a little worried.”

I sighed in return. I wasn’t going to kill myself as long as he was in my life. But I couldn’t tell him about the thoughts circling my head. I couldn’t have him worry about me just before he leaves for the holidays.

“I’m sorry about earlier,” I said quietly. “I didn’t mean to… be like that.”

“It’s okay, I didn’t mean to pry,” he said. “But whatever it was, just know you can talk to me. You can talk to me, Bella. I mean it.”

“I know. Thank you.” I rested my head on his shoulder.

~

As the week progressed, I signed up for spring classes. I had to remind myself of my followers, who were the reason why I decided to go to YouTube University in the first place. They got me to where I was, they helped pull me out of my dark hole at times. I had to remember them. I wasn’t completely alone.

There was still a part of me that felt like I wasn’t going to make it to spring time. But there was another part that had to because I signed up for classes at uni. That was a reason to hold on, right?

If Jack wasn’t leaving to patch things up with Signe, I’d ask him to stay with me. Or maybe, if he wasn’t leaving at all, I wouldn’t be feeling like this. I couldn’t tell if I was growing dependent on him or if I actually wanted his help. Somehow, I managed to keep on a strong face when I dropped him off at the airport that Friday, and even when I felt the crushing solitude.

Last time I sent him home, I didn’t feel as alone. At the time, I had Mark, and while I wasn’t exactly okay, I had a small shred of hope that I would be. I had a sense of determination. I was almost ready to overcome everything. I finally felt like I had a purpose, and he helped me see that purpose.

But now I was wondering why I ever felt like that in the first place. It felt like a myth, like a completely different person living a different life. It was all meant to fall apart at the end, though. Mark said he was going to leave me with or without Amy. He was probably meant to be with her, given how happy they looked, how happy he looked. I couldn’t have prevented that, even if I tried.

I wasn’t really heartbroken anymore. I wasn’t really angry either. Once I was alone in my apartment, it all just slipped away. I felt empty, and it wasn’t necessarily because of the breakup. My mind was too clogged up to pinpoint the reason for this. Usually, I would have Helena help me figure this out, but her office was closed for the holidays. To be honest, I probably wouldn’t have the energy to schedule an appointment with her.

By the time I plucked up the courage to talk to Ethan again, he was already leaving for the holidays. He would be in Maine for Christmas, and then return to Los Angeles for New Year’s. I asked him if Mark gave him a hard time after what happened on the field, and he said no. I figured he only said that to get me out of his hair, so I left it at that.

The only thing I could do to distract myself was to make videos. My makeup tutorials around this time of year were mostly dark themed. My “tradition” of coping with not having a Christmas was just to make my makeup as dark as possible. I never called it a “tradition,” though, my followers did, and they looked forward to it. I ranted about bisexual visibility or something and called it a day.

On Christmas Eve, I didn’t get out of bed. My mind was reliving old memories of going to my grandparents’ house and having pozole. We would open presents at midnight. I was a happy child, so I’ve been told. I couldn’t remember that feeling anymore. I couldn’t remember when my parents didn’t hate me. I could barely remember the last Christmas I had.

Every year since I cut off my family, I told myself I would forget about the holidays. But when Christmas was advertised all over the place, it was hard. It was hard to forget the people I grew up with, the people who grew to hate me. I didn’t mean to be a useless pile of crap this year, it just happened on its own.

Feeling useless led to feeling hopeless. Being alone gave my mind plenty of time to wander off and spiral. My hopelessness made that mind-numbing fog intensify so much that the glowing emergency exit sign shone brighter. It was the only thing I could see in this haze. Just like last time…

“I don’t wanna die,” I whispered, my throat sore. It was probably from the dehydration.

I had lost track of the days right after Christmas. All I knew was that it wasn’t the new year just yet. Jack had texted me a few times since he left, which is what made me say those words. I still had him, even if he was far away. That was a reason to stay.

“Can’t die,” I whispered, reaching for my phone. I unlocked it and saw the date.

New Year’s Eve.

Next thing I knew, I was popping a Xanax (or two) and texting Aria, asking about her evening plans. When she told me she was in town and planning to party the night away with Sophie, I rolled myself out of bed. I had to get ready. This was going to be the biggest distraction. Maybe I should have done this last time.

_______

next fic: You Look Happier