#I’m always running away from the cancer part of me

[puckinghischier]

Suds n Sorrows

Nico Hischier x fem!reader

summary: reader comforting nico after losing the last game of the season

notes: y’all i kinda love this one 🤭. me being a cancer, i’m patiently waiting for the day i can nurture and comfort nico. that’s all. hope you enjoy !!

request: Nico coming home after that last game of the season and obviously he really needs some cheering up from his girl.

(also, i used google translate for any german present in this fic, so if its wrong, oopsies)

[2.9k]

part 2 (18+)

~

You already felt terrible you were having to miss the last game of the season, but as you watch the clock hit zero on the screen of the tv in front of you, signifying another Devil’s loss, you really wished you could be there. You think about how defeated your boys look, not being able to secure one last win for the fans this season. You watch as they skate to the middle of the ice, thanking their fans with rounded shoulders and sad smiles on their faces.

You curse your professors, hating that their review schedules for finals fell right in the middle of the end of the hockey season. You were supposed to be there tonight, supporting your friends and boyfriend; but a last-minute email from a professor informing you of a mandatory review session, starting only an hour before puck drop, threw your plans out the window.

You pick up your phone to send Nico a quick text, telling him you love him and are proud of him no matter what. You know he won’t see it right away, with post-game interviews and the added responsibility of fan-appreciation activities, he won’t be home for another hour or two at the earliest. You turn the tv off, not wanting to see the dejected looks from the team any longer.

You go to the kitchen and start to busy yourself by making one of Nico’s favorite treats, wanting to give him something to smile about when he gets home. You make plans in your head to either make something or order something to take to the rest of the team tomorrow during their locker cleanout. Once you’ve finished the task at hand and cleaned the kitchen, you make your way back into the living room, figuring Nico will be home any minute.

You were scrolling through Instagram, lost in the comments on the Devil’s most recent post about the fans, when you heard the front door to your apartment open. You sat up, turning your body to face the entry way, watching Nico walk towards you. He dropped his bag as he reached the couch, wordlessly flopping down beside you, throwing his body half on top of yours. He buried his face in your neck, inhaling the comforting scent of your perfume, squeezing your body against his own.

“I’m so proud of you,” is the first thing you said to him, taking the beanie off of his head so you can run your fingers through his hair.

“Nothin’ to be proud of, Schatz. We lost. Didn’t you see?” You feel him mumble against your skin.

“Hey, now. No more pity party, alright? You still went out there and gave it everything you had. I’ll always be proud of you, win or lose,” you scold, hating when he doesn’t give himself credit for all the work he puts in for this team.

“Just wish we could’ve won one last one. For the fans. For the guys. For Jack.”

“How is he, by the way? You heard anything?” You ask about the middle Hughes, knowing how upset Nico was he wouldn’t be finishing the season with the rest of the team.

“Yeah, talked to him before the game. Sore, but good. Already trying to weasel his way back onto the ice, but Ellen has him under house arrest.”

You chuckle, causing Nico’s body to shake with yours, knowing how stubborn Jack can be.

“I swear, if he doesn’t just let himself rest and heal I’ll fly out to Michigan myself to babysit him,” you tell your boyfriend, earning a laugh in response.

The conversation falls silent soon after, the two of you just soaking in each other’s company. You had adjusted your bodies so Nico was fully laying on you now, one hand continuing to play with his hair, the other lightly tracing shapes up and down his back. You worry he’s fallen asleep until you feel him lift his head, resting his chin on your chest so he can look up at your face.

“Wanna talk about it?” You ask him, looking down at his soft, sad eyes.

“Not much to say. We lost. The game, the season, the cup. We just didn’t perform this year. Got a lot to work on going forward,” he shrugs, not meeting your eyes.

“Okay, when I asked if you wanted to talk about it, I didn’t mean give me locker room answers. I meant, do you want to talk about why you’re being so hard on yourself? Why you’re acting like you won’t ever play hockey again? I know how hard this is on you all, especially after the season you guys had last year, but not every year is a stellar year, Neeks. Sometimes you have to have a bad season before you know how to have a great one,” you pushed him off of you slightly, both of you sitting up so you can face each other.

“I know we can’t be great every year, Y/N, but I at least expected us to do as well as we did last year. Coming off of such an explosive season, even though we didn’t win the cup, I figured everyone would show up ready to go, ready to win some games. And then then everyone started getting injured, and the longer the season went on, something shifted. It’s like they gave up before we even got started. It’s like they didn’t even want it anymore!” Nico cries out, letting himself get worked up.

You simply nod, encouraging him to keep going, knowing he needs to get it out of his system.

“I just-“ he hesitates, calming himself from his outburst mere seconds ago. “I worry about who’ll be coming back next season. I like this team. I love these guys like they’re my brothers, and I wanted better for so many of them. Nothing is ever guaranteed in the league, and I just want to keep playing with this team. Tonight could’ve been the last time I ever stepped onto that ice with a few of them.” He continues, emotion so raw on his face you almost want to cry for him.

There it was. The real reason he’s so upset. You knew this was more than just a loss, even if it was a hard one. He hardly ever comes home and just allows the two of you to sit in silence, always going over what they could’ve done better, and what they need to work on in the future. He’s upset about losing his team. Nico always gets so attached to his players, wanting to give every person he plays with the best guidance and outcomes he can. You figure its why they made him captain.

“Oh Neeks,” you start, reaching out to grab his hands. “These guys love you, you know that, right? They want to do their best for you, always. You think they don’t beat themselves up for letting you down?” you pause, wanting your words to truly reach him. “But…you know this is always a possibility. Trades get made, contracts expire. It’s just part of the world you signed up for. I can guarantee you, nearly every one of these guys would come back next year if it was up to them. They love this team just like you do,” you reiterate, having been told this by his teammates more times than you can count. “You gave them everything you could this season. I can assure you, not a single player left that arena tonight thinking of what you could’ve done differently, instead focusing on what they could’ve done differently.”

Nico sat for a second, absorbing your words. He takes his hands from yours to place his head in them, trying to collect his thoughts.

“Wenn es nur so einfach wäre,” you hear the foreign words muffled by the sound of his hands.

“Neeks, you know I’m learning, but I have no clue what you just said,” you chuckle slightly, not knowing if he’s even aware of the language switch.

“I said, if only it was that easy. I know you’re right, I do. But I just can’t make my brain hear the words the way my ears do,” he sighs.

You look at the man in front of you with sad eyes. You wish you could carry some of this burden for him, but you can’t. At the end of the day, you don’t know what it’s like to be the captain of a hockey team. You don’t know the full extent of the pressure not only his coaches place on him, but the team management, as well.

“My sweet, sweet boy,” you coo sadly, reaching out to cup his face, his own sad, brown eyes looking into yours. “Why don’t we just relax for the rest of the night, yeah? I was thinking about a bath earlier, if you wanted to join me? I’ll add some of that bubble bath you like. The one that smells like oranges and raspberries?” You question, deciding you’d talked enough hockey tonight.

“Yeah, that sounds nice,” he agrees, leaning into your touch, letting his eyes flutter shut.

You lean forward to give him a small peck on his forehead before standing and making your way to the bathroom.

You make sure the temperature of the water isn’t too hot, but still wanting it to be warm enough to soothe the ache not only in Nico’s muscles, but the ache in his chest, too. You decide to light a few candles, wanting to make the space as relaxing for him as possible. The bathroom door opens as you’re lighting the last candle, Nico having already discarded most of his clothing, standing before you only in his boxers.

He closes the door behind him, walking fully into the bathroom and leaning against the counter next to you. You set the candle away from anything that could potentially catch fire, and walk over to Nico. You wrap your arms around his torso, resting your cheek against his bare chest.

The two of you stand like that for a few moments, trying to transfer every ounce of love you have for the man through the contact. Eventually he pulls back, placing his hands on your shoulder before cocking an eyebrow, eyes raking down your body at your still fully clothed figure.

“Shouldn’t you have much less clothing on if we’re meant to be taking a bath together, Schatz?” he asks, the teasing in his voice a nice change from earlier.

“Are you trying to get me naked, cap?” you try to act shocked, but you can’t help the amused smile that breaks out on your face.

“Always, Mrs. cap,” he cheekily responds, using his teammates’ nickname for you.

You step back with a giggle, undressing yourself as Nico removes what little clothing he had on. After you walk over to turn the bathroom light off, the two of you step into the steaming tub, settling into a comfortable position. Your back rests against Nico’s chest, head resting on his shoulder, his clasped hands resting on your stomach. He begins tracing shapes on your stomach like you were on his back a few minutes ago, letting the warm water heat your skin and wash the stress of the day away.

“You know, even though I’m sad the season’s over, it does mean I get to spend more time with you now,” Nico breaks the silence, head tilted to rest against yours.

You hum in response, smiling at the thought of no more early morning alarms or late-night interruptions when he gets home from a roadie. You daydream about lazy mornings and breakfast in bed, something the two of you don’t get to indulge in nearly enough. You open your eyes, the thought reminding you of the treat you made Nico before his arrival home, nearly forgetting about the baked good sitting in your kitchen.

“Oh, I almost forgot, I baked you a little something before you got home!” you sat up a bit, water splashing around you.

“You did? What ever for?” Nico asks, eyes widening a bit at your sudden burst of enthusiasm.

“Just because. Knew you had a hard day, wanted to make sure you had something sweet to brighten it up a bit,” you shrugged.

“Not necessary. Not with the promise of getting to come home to you already.”

Your cheeks flush red, never really getting used to the sweet words Nico always throws your way.

“Well, I guess you don’t want any Luzerner….Luzerner…Leb…” You start, but can’t remember how to pronounce the Swiss dessert. You huff, crossing your arms over your chest, aggravated with yourself and your lack of fluency in Swiss-German.

“Luzerner Lebkuchen?” Nico finished for you.

“Yeah…that.” You roll your eyes at his perfect pronunciation.

“You really made it for me? From scratch?”

“Mhmm. Used your mom’s recipe. I hope it turned out. I didn’t want to cut into it to try it before you got home. Wanted to surprise you.”

Nico’s heart swelled at the confession, amazed that you’d go through all of that effort just for him. It wasn’t an easy dish to perfect, by no means. It took his mom years to get her gingerbread cake perfectly moist and flavorful. Regardless of how it tastes, he’ll savor it like it’s the last food on earth, simply because you made it for him.

“Well consider me surprised,” Nico murmurs, leaning in to kiss you.

You love moments like these. Lost in Nico, the two of you in your own little world. No hockey, no schoolwork, no responsibilities. Just two people hopelessly in love with each other, soaking in every ounce of affection the other has to offer.

Nico runs his hand down your back, causing your body to shiver at the contact. He pulls you closer, his other hand coming to tangle itself in your hair, tugging just enough to cause your mouth to open in a gasp, using the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth. Your tongues fight one another, his winning the struggle for dominance in the end, a groan working its way out of his throat. When he starts to move his hand lower down your back, grabbing the flesh of your ass in the process, you pull back, lips swollen and out of breath.

“Nope. Slow your roll, hot stuff. This was meant to be a relaxing bath, not a sex and suds party,” you push him back by the shoulders, earning a pout from the man across from you.

“But, a sex and suds party sounds pretty relaxing to me. No better way to unwind after a hard day than watching your face as I make you cu-“

“Nope! Not happening right now! Keep it up and it won’t be happening at all tonight,” You warn, turning back around to resume your earlier position, hands resting over his on your stomach to keep them from wandering.

Nico laughs, finding amusement in your commitment to the relaxing bath you promised him. He places a kiss to your temple, deciding to leave it alone for now, knowing he’ll revisit the subject later.

The two of you sit in the warm tub until the water runs cold, talking about anything that crosses your minds. From your upcoming finals to summer destinations you’d love to visit, the security of your bubble filled world allowing no room for hockey talk or stressful situations to infiltrate the delicate space.

After you start shivering, having put up with the cold water for as long as you could, Nico reaches forward to drain the tub, deciding that its time the two of you get out and dry off. You step out of the tub, reaching for the towels you had placed on the closed lid of the toilet seat, grabbing one for yourself before handing one to Nico. The two of you dry off your bodies, no sound other than the draining tub in the room. You look over to Nico, towel wrapped around his waist, and admire the man you love. You love him for so much more than his physique, but you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t the cherry on top of the already perfect soul before you.

Before he catches you staring and gets anymore ideas, you look away and wrap your own towel around your body, trying to shield yourself from the cool air on your damp skin.

“Thank you, Schatz,” Nico breaks the silence, causing you to look up at him, noticing he had closed the distance between the two of you, reaching out to place a piece of hair behind your ear, hand falling to your cheek.

“For what?”

“For always being here when I need someone. For always knowing exactly what I need, even before I do. For being you,” he states, referencing the many times you’ve been his sanity after days like today, always managing to take his mind off of his troubles and filling his head with thoughts of you, instead.

“Always,” you turn your head, placing a kiss on his palm before placing your cheek back against his palm, flashing Nico one of your loving smiles.

“Now, what about digging into that cake I made you? It’s not going to eat itself, you know?” you perk up, wanting to find out if you efforts paid off or not.

“Oh, I have a different kind of dessert I’d rather dig into, if you don’t mind,” Nico smirks, watching your eyes widen as he picks you up and throws you over his shoulder, laughing at your squeal as he heads towards the door of the bathroom, ready to savor his sweet treat.

[astroa3h]

Chiron through the signs ✨

Chiron, the wounded healer, is a celestial body that carries profound significance in our astrological journey. Its placement in your chart reveals where you harbor deep, often unspoken pain, and paradoxically, where you possess the unique power to heal others. But let's get one thing straight: Chiron is not a fluffy, feel-good part of your chart. It’s raw, it’s real, and it’s the stuff we don’t talk about at dinner parties.

If your Chiron is in Aries, you’ve likely struggled with your sense of identity. You’ve been burned by rejection, by the feeling that no matter how hard you try, you’re never quite good enough. You might feel like you’re constantly at war with yourself, and this inner conflict can manifest in a need to prove yourself over and over again. But here’s the truth: the only person you need to prove yourself to is you. Stop fighting battles that don’t exist. Instead, recognize that your wound is your power. You have the ability to lead, to inspire, to be the trailblazer who shows others that self-acceptance is the greatest victory. When you stop looking for validation outside of yourself, you’ll find it within.

With Chiron in Taurus, the wound runs deep in your sense of security and self-worth. Maybe you’ve never felt truly stable, either financially or emotionally. You might cling to material possessions or relationships, thinking they will fill the void inside you. But I sense that this is a trap. The more you try to hold on, the more you lose sight of what really matters: your own intrinsic value. The key here is to redefine what security means to you. It’s not about what you have; it’s about who you are. When you start to appreciate your own worth, you’ll find that the external world mirrors that back to you. Your healing comes from knowing that you are enough, just as you are.

Chiron in Gemini speaks to wounds around communication and self-expression. You might feel like you’re never truly heard or understood, like your voice is lost in the crowd. This can lead to a fear of speaking up, of sharing your thoughts and ideas. But let me tell you, your voice is powerful, and it’s needed. Your challenge is to push through the fear, to find the words even when they don’t come easily. When you do, you’ll find that your words have the power to heal, not just yourself but others too. Your gift is in connecting the dots, in seeing the big picture, and helping others do the same. Don’t shy away from that. Your voice is your superpower.

If your Chiron is in Cancer, the wound is tied to your sense of belonging, to home and family. Maybe you’ve never felt like you truly fit in, or perhaps there’s a deep hurt connected to your childhood or your relationship with your mother. This wound can make you feel emotionally exposed, vulnerable in a way that’s hard to protect yourself against. But here’s what you need to know: your sensitivity is not a weakness; it’s a strength. You have the capacity to create the safe space you’ve always longed for, both for yourself and for others. Your healing comes from nurturing, from creating a sense of home within yourself. When you do, you’ll find that the world feels a lot less hostile.

With Chiron in Leo, the wound strikes at your sense of self-expression and creativity. You might feel like you’re always in the shadow, never truly able to shine in the way you want. This can lead to feelings of inadequacy, like you’re not special enough, not talented enough. But I’m here to tell you that this is a lie. You were born to shine. Your challenge is to step into the spotlight, to own your gifts, and to stop comparing yourself to others. When you embrace your uniqueness, you’ll find that your light not only brightens your world but illuminates the path for others too. Your creativity is your medicine; use it.

Chiron in Virgo touches on issues of perfectionism and self-criticism. You might feel like you’re never quite good enough, like you’re always falling short of some impossible standard. This can lead to a constant state of anxiety, of feeling like you need to fix yourself or others. But let me give you a reality check: perfection is an illusion. The more you chase it, the further away it gets. Your healing comes from accepting your imperfections, from realizing that you don’t need to be perfect to be worthy of love and respect. When you let go of the need to be perfect, you’ll find peace. And that peace will allow you to help others find their own.

Chiron in Libra brings wounds related to relationships and balance. You might struggle with feeling like you’re always the one giving more, always the one trying to keep the peace. This can lead to resentment, to feeling like you’re never truly valued for who you are. But here’s the deal: you need to stop seeking balance outside of yourself. True balance comes from within. When you find that inner equilibrium, your relationships will naturally start to reflect that. You have the ability to create harmony, to bring people together, but only when you’re in harmony with yourself. Stop trying to please everyone and start pleasing yourself.

With Chiron in Scorpio, the wound is deep, connected to issues of power, control, and transformation. You might have experienced trauma or betrayal, something that has left you feeling powerless or out of control. This wound can lead to a fear of intimacy, a fear of being vulnerable. But here’s what I know: your power lies in your ability to transform. You have the capacity to rise from the ashes, to reinvent yourself in a way that others can only dream of. Your healing comes from embracing the darkness, from facing your fears head-on. When you do, you’ll find that your power is unstoppable. You are the phoenix; don’t be afraid to burn and be reborn.

Chiron in Sagittarius touches on wounds related to belief systems and the search for meaning. You might feel like you’re always questioning, always searching for something that feels true. This can lead to a sense of restlessness, of never feeling truly grounded. But I sense that your journey is not about finding the answers; it’s about embracing the journey itself. Your healing comes from trusting your own inner wisdom, from realizing that you don’t need to have all the answers to be on the right path. When you embrace the adventure, you’ll find that the meaning you’re searching for is already within you.

If your Chiron is in Capricorn, the wound is tied to issues of authority, responsibility, and achievement. You might feel like you’re always carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders, like you need to be the strong one, the responsible one. This can lead to a fear of failure, of not living up to expectations. But here’s the truth: you don’t need to prove anything to anyone. Your value is not in what you achieve but in who you are. Your healing comes from letting go of the need to control, from trusting that you are enough just as you are. When you do, you’ll find that success comes naturally, without the struggle.

Chiron in Aquarius brings wounds related to individuality and belonging. You might feel like you’re always on the outside looking in, like you don’t quite fit in with the crowd. This can lead to a fear of being different, of standing out. But let me tell you, your difference is your gift. You were not born to fit in; you were born to stand out. Your challenge is to embrace your uniqueness, to find your tribe, the people who get you, and to stop trying to conform. When you do, you’ll find that your individuality is exactly what the world needs. You are the change-maker, the innovator, and your healing comes from embracing that.

Finally, with Chiron in Pisces, the wound is connected to spirituality and the dissolution of boundaries. You might feel like you’re always picking up on the emotions of others, like you’re drowning in a sea of feelings that aren’t even yours. This can lead to a sense of confusion, of not knowing where you end and others begin. But here’s the secret: your sensitivity is your superpower. You have the ability to tap into the collective consciousness, to feel deeply and to heal others through your empathy. Your healing comes from setting boundaries, from learning to protect your energy while still being open to the world. When you do, you’ll find that your compassion is your greatest strength.

Chiron is not here to break you; it’s here to make you whole. By understanding its placement in your chart, you can turn your wounds into wisdom, your pain into power.

Blessings,

Ash ✨

Get your own reading at astroash.net

[famemonsterrr]

Astrology observations part 11;

(Don’t copy my work pliz and these aren’t facts but what I have seen and experienced in my life. If you can’t relate to any of these. It okay we are all different)

-Pisces are really good gaslighters like they argue and they know they losing and then boom…you are the one who is crazy. (Girly pops how about stop it)

- speaking of Pisces…maybe I’m saying it from personal experience but I can’t keep an aesthetic and even when I have find a aesthetic Im changing again. It’s endless circle…I hope another Pisces can relate with me:)

- i have seen an Aquarius women being so quick minded and have unique takes but also I have seen Aquarius women being really shy and slow to talk. There is no between with them.

- y’all think that Taurus are the lazy and don’t like to work out but they are so active and most of them love sports or gym.

- the second best venus is cancer…soooo giving soooo sweet and lovinggggg 🥰

- Aries placements show PASSION in any planet/house they are placed . Like if you have Aries moon you will be really vocal about ur emotions. If you have mercury then you will be passionate about ur opinions ect.

- Taurus and libra are the type of people who are seductive and flirty so naturally but if doesn’t work out they will be so pissed.

- Pisces are insane when they getting obsessed with something they like. They will make sure everyone in their group will know what new show/book/character ect. they started liking.

- Aquarius placements are the type of people who love anything that has to do with universe,planets ect. (Some of them people I know they follow on Instagram space accounts or nasa)

- Capricorn mars are workaholic…they always do things right to get where they want. (A placement that I kinda wish i had) "money money money must be funny in the rich man’s world"

- It’s from my personal observation but we tend to connect mostly with singers that have the same moon sign as we do. Maybe I’m the only one but from day 1 I loved they way Ariana grande was expressing her emotions through music and then I released we both have libra moon. So next time check the moon sign of ur fave artist 🤌🏻 (it’s my showing that I’m a big Ariana girly)

- Scorpio Venus people are my favourite cause they like you a lot and they know it but you don’t know it. They will not let you go and if they do they will return back to you no matter what. They will know everything about you and ask a lot about you. They will care about your opinions (when they really don’t care about others). They will share the darkest secrets with you,they personal/family traumas. They are consumed by your existence. (if they have Sagittarius placements maybe they will pretend not care at the same time so you might think u are just friends)

- speaking of Venus…if you are a Scorpio pliz find a Pisces Venus for you. Like insane connection. Soulmate energy and both consumed by each other. (My personal fave duo)

- Gemini Venus need to be studied cause they rush into love and at the same time they can’t settle. (Girly pops maybe decide for once but men are the worst)

- cancer mercury is more dramatic than a Leo but they don’t show it that easily.

- they say don’t date someone who has the same moon sign as you…but I disagree. You will be the same page and react the same way. Understanding from both sides. ( my ex bestie has libra moon and we understood each other so well). Maybe date or hang out with people that have the same moon as you.

- Sagittarius mercury/Venus flirts for joke but they do it so well that you fall for them and then they have to run away from you.

That’s all💙

Here is my masterlist

Thank you for reading my blog so far. Really grateful about that 🫶🏻 and sorry if I do spelling mistakes but I’m not Native American speaker so I try my best. Stay hydrated and healthy 💙

[try-set-me-on-fire]

Ok well i had the brief thought “what about an ER nurse Eddie au?” and then this popped fully formed into existence so fuck it Friday pt 2.. warnings for smoking and vague references to critically injured kids

“That doesn’t seem very healthy.”

Smoke curls up from the cigarette held loosely in Eddie’s hand. “It’s not, particularly.”

Buck’s hands are in his pockets as he strolls away from the glass doors out into the ambulance bay where Eddie is doing the mature, professional equivalent of playing hide and seek. He comes to a stop barely a foot or two away from where Eddie leans against grimy concrete. “Didn’t know you were a smoker.”

“I’m not,” Eddie sighs, “Particularly.” He looks over Buck’s face as he takes a drag, cataloging bruises and cuts. He hadn’t been the one to look him over before he was discharged, probably because he was out here avoiding having to do so. “Only when it’s- only after the bad shifts.” And only once a month, even if the bad shifts come again and again. He bought this pack in January, it’s stale as shit.

Buck’s eyes follow the smoke as it drifts skyward. “Rough one today?”

Eddie thinks he probably doesn’t have to explain to Buck that it’s sometimes better when a kid is dead on arrival so he doesn’t have to try his best to administer care he knows will be useless. He doesn’t have to explain a day where nothing goes right and he loses more people than he can save and he still has to walk away from someone’s parent or wife or sister, left behind forever in a waiting room on the worst day of their life, and go on to lose the next person too. Doesn’t have to explain why he’s out here, and not in there. “Mm. We’ve got this repeat customer, always hate to have him back.”

Buck’s eyes flick to his face before they settle somewhere around his elbow. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. He seems like a nice guy. I worry about him. He’s here too often.”

Buck doesn’t look up. “What was he in for this time?”

“Minor concussion. Bruising. Lacerations.” Eddie sucks cancer into his lungs. “Heard a house fell on him.” Exhales it into the night.

Buck does look up this time, eyes a darker blue out here in the shadows. “Part of a house. Just a staircase and the- like, the balcony, really.”

“Maybe he should stay away from those.”

“From houses?” Buck asks, half his mouth twitching into a smile.

Eddie rests his head on the wall behind him. “Guess that’s not really practical.”

“No.” Buck is quiet for a moment, one hand slipping out of his pocket and running through his hair. Eddie wonders what he looks like, when he’s not here. He’s more styled, sometimes, when things aren’t very bad. He wonders if he’s usually all gelled up and neat. Eddie kind of likes the loose curls. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“Making your day worse.” Buck looks genuinely apologetic, and Eddie shakes his head.

“The guy made it out okay this time.” Buck is just close enough that Eddie can kick at his boot with his sensible orthopedic sneaker. “You didn’t even need stitches.”

“That’s good.” Eddie’s left foot is pressed along the inside of Buck’s right, and Buck is staring down at them. “His favorite nurse was on break. I would have missed you if someone else had to do them.”

Eddie laughs, just a few bursts of soundless oxygen. “You gotta find new ways to see me before something happens that I can’t fix.”

Buck moves, taking the few steps necessary to lean against the wall beside him. Carefully, he takes the cigarette from Eddie’s hand, holds it between two of his own fingers, and takes a drag. Eddie watches it happen like he’s monitoring somebody’s pulse ox, and when Buck coughs he laughs again, louder this time. “Fuck,” Buck says, laughing too. “Thought that would be cooler than it was.”

“Smoking isn’t cool, firefighter Buckley,” Eddie says, taking the cigarette back and pulling from it again between smiling lips.

“Hm,” Buck says, grinning out into the night. Then he sighs, and rolls his head along the concrete to look at Eddie. “I think there’s nothing you can’t fix.”

They’re very close. “There’s lots I can’t fix.”

Buck shrugs like he disagrees. “I also think I’d like to find other ways to see you.”

Buck’s eyes are even more in shadow at this angle, and they’re the color of the lake back in El Paso that he and a bunch of kids went to after graduation, drunk off beer somebody’s cousin got for them, skinny dipping with breathless terrified delight under bright constellations. “Then ask me.”

Buck inhales as Eddie exhales. “What time’s your shift end?”

“5:30 AM. So, probably 6:15.”

Buck traces the two fingers he’d used to hold the cigarette down Eddie’s arm. “You wanna get breakfast with me?”

“Yes. I would.”

Buck smiles, and Eddie snubs out the cigarette on the wall between them. “I’ll meet you here?”

“Alright.” He takes a step forward, then a step to the right so he’s standing in front of Buck. “Two hours.”

“Uh huh.”

He should really get back inside. They’re understaffed, as always, and there are too many patients, as always, and not enough beds, as always. “See you then.” He doesn’t make any move to leave.

“See you then,” Buck almost whispers. He leans forward, and Eddie still doesn’t move, so he presses a tiny kiss to the corner of his mouth for just a moment. His lips are warm. Eddie hadn’t noticed it was cold outside.

Buck pulls back and leans against the wall again. Eddie smiles, puts a hand in his pocket, and walks back toward the doors.

[irisbleufic]

YOUR 3 CATS ARE SO CUTE OMG! How old are they/what are their stories?

Like many young-ish queer married couples, @one-eyed-bossman and I entered the fast track to pet parenthood in 2020. I was still recovering from extensive cancer treatment at the time, which is part of what makes our first kitty especially meaningful to me.

ZEL

Zel is my darling girl. She’s now 5 years old, and when we adopted her in June of 2020, she was already 1 year old. After being rescued on the streets at a few weeks old with her two personable siblings, she spent an entire year at this lady’s house with like 20 other cats at any given time. She was feral and unapproachable, but somehow I was able to get close enough to her at the rescue to pick her up and put her in the carrier. She nailed me with her claws in the process, but that’s the only time she’s ever hurt me or anyone else. The day after we got her home, I stuck my hand behind the bed in her safe room, and she set her little paw square in my palm and left it there for about a minute. I spent a couple of months crawling halfway under the bed to pet her while she was curled in her bed, and eventually I could get her to follow me around the house by asking, “Do you want to go for a walk?” She barely left my side after that. I spent a lot of 2020 sick in bed; she always curled up snugly between my ankles or my knees. She’s now the smartest cat I’ve ever met. Her language recognition shocks me even after 4 years of having her as a silly little shadow who likes to play fetch with her pink-eared mouse toy. She’s stuck to my side any time I’m on the sofa, and about a month ago she climbed fully in my lap for the first time. Her meow is barely a whisper when she does use it (only to talk to me and occasionally to the TV), but the trills, squeaks, and yowls she makes to talk to her toys are hilarious. She doesn’t even talk to her siblings like that. Unlike many white cats, she is not deaf.

NICKY

We got Nicky a year after we got Zel; he was about 8 weeks old when we brought him home in June of 2021. We met a kind lady who periodically bred her lovely Bengal queens, and Nicky was somehow a “non-show-quality” (?!!) discount kitten. He’s sweet, goofy, vocal, afraid of everything/everyone that’s outside the house, and occasionally very naughty. We hoped he would bring Zel the rest of the way out of her shell, and it worked. He just adored her from day one. She took a few months to warm up to him, but they bonded pretty fast. Now, at 3 years old, he’s a big boy—17 pounds. He likes to stand/sit on laps more than he likes to lie down in them, although he will lie down in mine a couple times a week. He brings me granola bars from the cupboard and loves trash more than he likes his toys:

EMBER

We hadn’t planned on a third cat, but the universe insisted. I mean that quite literally. On 31 July 2022, my mother died at my sister’s place a couple of states away. The morning she died, me and my four siblings took a walk around my sister’s neighborhood. We split up and went slightly different ways; my sister and her husband called me as I was getting back to the house to say that a tiny, tiny crying kitten had run out of the bushes toward them. My sister didn’t know what to do; one of my nieces is very allergic, and we were all burnt-out from dealing with Mom’s passing and the funeral home taking away her body. I told her to bring the kitten back to the house, because I was too grief-stricken to let another thing die that day. Out on the porch, I fed her milk from one of the droppers we were using to give my mom morphine, all the while making desperate phone calls to local rescues. After about 3 hours, a local vet with specialty in caring for bottle baby kittens came to pick her up. She told me that, because I didn’t live too far away in the grand scheme of things, she could foster the baby until she was old enough for me to arrange transport to my home state. There was no way I could walk away from that little baby, so I got regular photos, videos, and updates from her foster mom until I could arrange transport about 5 months later (she came home in December of 2022). She has grown up to be the feistiest tortie I’ve ever met. She has far longer hair than I ever could have guessed, and even now that she’s 1.5 years old, she has very short legs (longer end of munchkin, our vet says!) and an overall smaller stature than her siblings. She fucking adores Nicky, and he has never once played too rough for her given the size disparity. He lets her chase him, jump on him, bap him into play fights, etc. She will cry and cry at night if we don’t pick her up and carry her around before we close the bedroom doors (they get to sleep in the bedroom sometimes, but not always; Nicky likes to knock picture frames off the wall in there, and I’m not about exposing them to broken glass).

[discount-shades]

Sleepy Baby Part 6

a/n: It’s a little less fluffy.

Pairing: Jake “Hangman” Seresin / Reader

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1500 ish

Summary: Jake and Kisses talk about their pasts.

Previous          Masterlist          Next

Netflix’s ‘are you still watching’ screen had long since timed out and was now flashing through images of the various shows on the streaming service. Tucked under Jake’s arm and wedged between his body and the back of your couch you watch the changing light from the TV flicker across his face. He is gazing down at you as he runs his fingers up and down your back

“You know, I’ve been with you every evening for the last two weeks,” Jake said, breaking the silence. “When did you stop going to your therapy mandated one hour weekly bar socializing sessions?”

“When some weirdo I met at a bar three months ago tracked me down at work two weeks ago.” you grin up at him as his eyes light up. 

“He sounds like a creep, you should stay away from him.” 

“Yeah I should, but unfortunately he is really good looking so I went and gave him my number and my address.” You shrug, “I can’t get rid of him now.” 

“Good looks are a blessing and a curse.” Jake sighs dramatically and you lean up to kiss his chin. 

“It’s ok that you stopped, though, right?” Jake looks down at you, “I don’t want to… I don’t know, impede your progress, or something.”

“It’s ok, she wanted me to go out and meet someone.” You grin up at him, “When I see her tomorrow she will probably be more excited than you were when I gave you my number.” 

“Not possible.” he declares. “That was the best day of my life.” You snort at his response.

“Do you want to know why?” You shift so you can rest your chin on his chest. “You can ask, you know.” 

“You’ll tell me when you are ready.” Jake shrugs, “I’m in no rush and you’re worth waiting for.” He goes back to running his fingers up and down you back. 

“I want you to know. Long story long?” You ask, “or long story short?”

“Long story long,” he replies. You take a deep breath. You want Jake to know, but sharing always gives you a weird feeling, like you are looking for pity. Part of you wants to just info-dump the story and move past it. You are also unsure of how he will respond. 

“I started dating my high school boyfriend, Ian, at seventeen,” you tell him on your exhale. “We lived outside Seattle and almost our whole friend group ended up moving there for university.” His eyes are searching yours and you turn your head so your ear is pressed against his chest. The steady beat of his heart is soothing and it is easier to talk without looking at him.

“We got engaged at twenty-three and had the whole wedding planned for when I was twenty-five.” Your breath is shaky as you inhale again. “My mother got really sick about four months before the wedding.” You blink and a tear hits Jake's shirt. “Breast cancer, it was already Stage 4 when they found it and she died about two months later.” You sniff and wipe your eyes. “My father was devastated. He had a heart attack and died about a month after my mom.”

“Oh, Kisses,” Jake wraps both arms more firmly around you and holds you close. “I’m so sorry.” 

You relax into his arms, allowing yourself to be held. “They were pretty good parents as far as parents go.” you look up at him. “They had rules and all, but everything was done with humor.” You smile in memory. “Every rule had some kind of dire and completely unrealistic consequence if it wasn't followed. They would tell me to wear my coat in the winter or I would freeze solid and they would turn me into a Christmas lawn ornament and leave me out there until spring, stuff like that. There was a lot of laughter growing up.”

“Must be where you get it from," he says. 

“Yeah,” you say sadly. “Not gonna lie, you brought some of that back.” You put your head back on his chest. “We postponed the wedding for a year. The vendors were surprisingly good about it.” 

“Ian and Beth, my best friend since the second grade, got me through their deaths.” You laugh humorlessly. “I remember feeling so lucky that my fiancé and my BFF got along so well.” I started seeing Jenn, my therapist, and I was doing a lot better. 

“A month before the second wedding date Ian and Beth were killed by a drunk driver when Ian was driving her home one night.”

“Oh, Kisses–” Jake goes to speak but you cut him off.

“That's not the best part.”

“The best part?” 

“I mean you could also call it the worst part,” you sit up and look at Jake. “She was giving him a blow job when they were hit.” Jake’s jaw drops and he is staring at you with a horrified expression. “Yeah,” you say wryly. “It turns out they had a little thing going on since high school. All our friends knew but no one told me; I don’t talk to anyone from home anymore.”

“How did you find out?” Jake sits up too, arm resting on the back of the couch.

“The police told me. I was with his parents when I found out and I just started laughing hysterically. They were so mad at me for laughing. I just stood up and walked out of their house. Didn’t help cover the funeral or anything, just left and cut contact.”

“Is that when you moved here?” Jake's eyes are searching your face. 

“No, I stayed in Seattle for about a year.” You tell him. “The really funny thing is that it turns out I was the sole beneficiary for one hell of a comprehensive accidental death insurance policy, and since the other driver was speeding and three times over the legal limit when his truck hit their car it paid out in full.”

Jake whistles under his breath. “At least you got something out of it.”

“That’s the way I choose to see it. His parents were upset that kept it all, but I feel like I've earned it.” You shrug, “Money doesn't buy happiness but it did make me feel a little better, it paid for lots of therapy in any case.”

“So after a year of me complaining about Seattle, Jenn asked me why I didn't just move. So I applied for every library position I could find in the country and got hired here and moved to San Diego. We do video call sessions now.”

“For what it is worth, I am so happy you ended up here.” Jake takes your hand in his, kissing your palm. 

“Me too,” you grin shyly at him. “I was here for four months before Jenn talked me into going out to bars to socialize. I had been going every week for about two months when I met you. And I played our song.”

Jake makes a face. “In the Navy is not our song, we can’t dance to In the Navy at our wedding.”

“Wow….  You are jumping the gun a bit there with your wedding talk, but we can dance to any song we want at our wedding, if you are not a coward.” You tell him with a grin. 

“I’ll find a better song for us,” Jake assures you. 

“What kind of experience do you have picking out songs for your relationships? I want to make sure I am trusting an expert.” You tell him.

“I’ll have you know I picked Taylor Swift's Our Song for me and my high school girlfriend.” Jake says smugly. “I’m practically the authority on relationship songs.”

“That song’s a little on the nose. How did that relationship end?” You ask, “Did the song play a role in the downfall?”

“No, with Stacy and I, it was very amicable.” Jake smiles fondly. “She was my neighbor and we started dating when we were like fourteen. We broke up after graduation when we realized that what we wanted from our future careers would not fit together. She is a professional barrel racer now and happily married to a team roper.” 

“Did you grow up on a farm, Jake Seresin?” You're grinning ear to ear, trying to picture him in a cowboy hat. Maybe holding a calf.

“No, we lived next door to Stacy's parents' horse ranch.” He says, “Our families are pretty close. I even went to her wedding where we danced to Our Song for old times sake, proving that I pick good songs.”

“Then I shall leave our song choice to the professional,” you tell him dramatically.

You stretch and check your watch, it reads 2:30AM. “It’s too late to drive,” you tell him. “Do you wanna stay the night?” He looks up at you in surprise, it's the first time you have invited him to stay over. 

“Yeah,” his voice sounds hoarse and he clears it. “Yes, I do.”

“Then come on,” You take his hand and lead him to your bedroom. You try to hide how fast your heart is beating, but when his fingers shift over the pulse in your wrist and stay there you are sure he knows.

“Do I get to finally see those PJs you described to me the other day?”

You laugh, “No, I’ll save that mystery for another day, you will get to see the sloth PJs. though.”

[aaron-m-geist-ff]

Hey there! I tend to be a lurker on your blog but why not, right?

I'm a Cancer (she/her) and whatever you're inspired for! Nsfw, or soft and sweet! ❤️❤️

God. Cancer women have a death grip on me 🤣🩷y’all are aways so sweet!

Lurk around here all you want ✨💫

For anyone else reading this, you can shoot me an ask with your zodiac sign and I will give you a JJK man with headcanons!

_______________________________________________

You got… 🥁🥁🥁

Choso!

Hell yeah. I’m giving you our glorious half-curse king. Choso is crazy about empathetic women. He wants someone who will hold his head in their lap and run their fingers through his hair. You would happily do that for him. Your energy is so welcoming and kind, it draws Choso in like a moth to a flame. He is obsessed with your warm nature. It makes him protective over you.

What’s even more interesting is that you seem to have a thick shell. As a Cancer, you don’t let people see your vulnerable side very easily. Choso would be honored to see that side of you. He would keep your secrets for you and never betray your trust. If you chose to cry around him, then Choso would comfort you the best he could and make you feel safe.

If anyone ever tries to mess with you, pray for them. No. Seriously, pray for them. We all know that Choso doesn’t back down in a fight. He always gives 110%, especially if his woman is in danger.

And smut..? 😈 so happy you asked.

Cancer’s sacred body part is the chest. And fucking hell, Choso is a tits man. He loves your breasts. It doesn’t matter if one is bigger than the other, if they are big or small. He doesn’t care about any of that. His hands will be on them either way.

If he fucks you from behind, he will reach around your body and cup your breasts. If he has you in missionary, guess where his hands are.

On your breasts.

The man is absolutely obsessed with them. He just can’t get enough. And Choso loves the sounds you make when he touches your sensitive areas. Swirling his tongue around your nipples or lightly sucking on them. He could do it for hours. He also enjoys the sight of his strong hands covering your breasts

Read more Choso here

[snaillamp]

Sunset

CW: contains major character death

“Uh, Villain, I mean no disrespect when I say this, but this building is a waste of money. I do not recommend purchasing it. You’re flushing money down the toilet here.”

Villain clenched their fists, whirling around to look at their assistant. “It’s not about money. This building. It’s more than that! I’m purchasing it now. I won’t let them knock it down!”

The assistant frowned at Villain’s sudden emotional outburst, taking a step back and glancing around the roof they were standing on. The apartment complex was old, a small 6 storey thing with a dirty, crumbling exterior. But when Villain had learned of it’s impending demise, they insisted on purchasing it.

“May I ask something personal, Villain?” The assistant asked cautiously. Villain huffed in annoyance, nodding. “What?”

The assistant sighed, glancing around at the roof. “Why do you want to buy this… derelict building, Villain? There are plenty of good apartments that are in need of renovations, what makes this one so special?”

Villain gazed out at the slowly setting sun, breathing in a soft breeze and smiling. “Let me tell you a story…”

~~

Villain spotted Hero making their way towards them, ready to thwart their plans. Villain quickly took off, running though the streets and scaling a fire escape, Hero hot on their heels. Finally they reached the roof, where Villain chuckled evilly, turning to face their nemesis and sliding into a fighting stance. Hero rolled their eyes, assuming their own and waiting for Villain to attack.

That was weird, Hero always jumped to make the first move. Villain threw a punch, then another, then kicked, easily making contact with Hero, who half heartedly fought back. Stopping suddenly, Villain panted, frowning. “Come on, Hero. Put your back into it, it’s no fun if you don’t try.” Hero scoffed, walking away from the fight, shaking their head. “Hey come on, what’s up?“ Villain asked, following them as they sat on the edge of the small, 6 storey building they were on.

Hero sighed, glancing away. “It’s nothing, Villain, and anyway, why the hell would I tell you? You’re my enemy. We hate each other.” Villain pulled a face. “I mean… sure, I’m not exactly your biggest fan, but I don’t hate you. I like our fights, our banter, everything. It’s all part of the fun that is our job.” They punched Hero’s arm playfully, only for their nemesis to glare at them and shuffle along the wall. ‘Yeah, okay somethings up…’ Villain thought, their face softening. “Hero… I know I’m the last person you wanna tell anything, but… Are you okay? You look… off.” Hero looked up at Villain, sighing. “No, Villain. I’m not.”

Villain shuffled over again. “Come oooooon. It can’t be that bad!” They smirked, wrapping an arm around Hero’s shoulders. “What, your partner leave your or something? Well, there’s plenty more fish in the sea, Hero.” Hero scowled. “I don’t have a partner. I live alone. I don’t have anyone.” Villain’s smirk faltered, “Aww come on, Hero! You have me!” They smiled desperately, trying to get Hero to smile, but their nemesis only seemed to grow darker.

’You have to tell someone…’ Hero’s mind reasoned.

“Don’t be so down Hero. I’m sure whatever it is, you’ll be able to fix it! Come on, you’re Hero, you can to anythi-”

“It’s cancer, Villain.” Hero interrupted. “I have cancer…”

Villain stopped, staring in shock as their mind reeled. But Hero was so healthy and strong and alive? So youthful… so witty and smart and… how could they have cancer? “Oh, but I’m sure it’s fine, Hero. I mean, they’re great at treating cancer these days. A few months of chemo and you’ll be right as rain, and back to beating me up for robbing banks or something.” Villain was desperately trying to reason their way out of this as Hero sighed, their eyes shining with tears.

“The prognosis isn’t good, Villain. It’s a rare, aggressive type… It’s in my bones, my blood… my organs. It’s not going to get better.” Hero’s voice cracked as Villain’s head began to shake in disbelief. “But you’re Hero… you can survive anything! You can survive this… you have to!” Hero shook their head.

“No, Villain. I can’t.”

Villain sat in the weight of the silence for a moment, before pulling Hero into a hug. “You didn’t have anyone else to tell, do you?” Hero shook their head. “I live alone… have no friends… work a dead end job and my parents are gone… there’s no one to tell. No one to go through this with me.” Villain shook their head. “No. You have me. I’m not letting you go through this alone. I promise you, I’m gonna take you back here, a year from now and where gonna watch this same damn sun, set right damn here.” Villain pointed at the slowly setting sun, Hero glancing at it, laughing softly. “Okay. You’re on. If you can get me here a year from today, you win.”

The two enemies shook hands, before watching the sun set below the horizon, before both heading home.

~~

Hero sighed as they lay in bed, feeling awful. The chemo had been destroying them, the radiation and the needles and the operations. It was all so much. They were tired.

“And here’s my favourite hero!” Villain piped up, walking into their room. They were holding an obnoxiously large bouquet of colourful flowers. They smelled wonderful. Hero was honestly surprised they could still smell, their taste had vanished not long after chemo started.

Villain hugged Hero tightly, before gently tucking some of their hair out of their eyes. “How are you feeling?” Hero sighed, looking weak. It had only been a couple weeks of treatment but they already looked awful. At least they seemed to be happier with Villain around. They had really come to like each other, outside of being work enemies, they had similar interests, senses of humour… they got along like a house on fire.

Hero admired the flowers as they sighed tiredly, looking back to Villain. “I feel better now that you’re here. I was getting bored out of my mind without you to piss me off.” Villain blushed, hiding it with a smirk, sitting beside Hero, and taking their hand. They held it, rubbing Hero’s pale, weak fingers as Hero began to tell them about the different nurses and doctors.

“Well have you heard about Superhero and their sidekick?” Villain asked, grinning. Hero perked up. “No?” Villain sat back, looking at Hero with a glint in their eye. “Apparently they’re a thing now. Like officially.” Hero laughed, “I knew it! I knew they had a thing for each other, the romantic… hell, the sexual tension was so strong between those two.” Villain nodded eagerly. “I know right? I was wondering when they were gonna stop fucking on the side and make it offical.” Hero frowned. “I didn’t know they were fucking, how did you?” Villain pursed their lips, smiling mysteriously. “Well I was in my way back to my base one night, after fighting you actually. I heard a crash in the alleyway below me, looked down and saw them. They were really going at it…” Villain’s eyes widened at the memory.

“You’re bullshitting.” Hero smirked. “No! I swear!” Villain raised their hands in surrender. “Promise! I saw it.” Smiling, Hero nodded. “Honestly, kinda not surprised. They kept undressing each other with their eyes in the field I swear to god.”

The two laughed, swapping embarrassing stories about their coworkers for the rest of the evening, until Hero began to doze. “Sleep well, my Hero.” Villain whispered as they tucked their friend in, watching them sleep for a bit.

~~

Villain sat with Hero who gazed at nothing in complete silence. They were doing this more and more often since the months of treatment had begun. “Hero?” Villain murmured, touching their arm. Hero seemed to break out of their daze, looking upset. “Oh, Hero… what’s wrong?” Villain asked, already knowing the answer. Hero burst into tears, Villain deciding to crawl up onto the bed and hold them tightly as they sobbed into Villain’s shoulder. Villain rocked them back and forth, hugging them tight and running their hand over Hero’s thinning hair.

“I don’t-wanna d-die, Villain.” They stammered. “I know.” Villain replied, unsure of what to do. “But the treatment has been working, you said yourself, things are looking better.” Hero nodded, sniffing. “Yeah… I guess…” They looked up at Villain. “It’s just… it’s not fair! I wanna be like everyone else my age! Go on stupid dates and mess around with my friends and go to work and complain about the weather… I don’t wanna be here! I don’t wanna be waiting to fucking DIE!” They screamed, voice shaking as Villain held them.

“Hero. You can’t give up. You can beat this, I know you will!” Villain tried to say the words with strength, but they didn’t know if they were saying it for Hero or for themself. “You said yourself the chemo was working pretty well.” Hero shook their head. “Not well enough. Villain, I told you, this is gonna kill me. I’m not gonna see that sunset.” The reality of what Hero had said set in, Villain clutching Hero tightly. “No. You’re gonna see it. I promise you. You’re gonna make it through and see it. You’re almost half way, Hero. You can do this.” Hero shuddered beside Villain. “Bag.” They gasped, reaching with a shaking hand for an emesis bag. Villain grabbed one quickly from the table beside the bed, holding it over Hero’s mouth as they threw up.

“It’s okay, Hero… let it out… let it out…”

~~

Hero seemed to be doing a little better, as Villain helped them up the stairs to the roof. Together, they crossed the building, looking up at the sky. Villain had set up a little picnic before hand, helping Hero sit and eat as they waited for the sun to begin its descent.

Hero lit up at the sight of it, and they laughed, cuddling in the cool evening as they ate way too much cake.

Eventually, they both sat in the edge of the roof, watching the sun go down, hands entwined.

“Told you.” Villain smirked, kissing Hero’s cheek. “I win.”

Hero chuckled, nuzzling Villain’s shoulder. “What do you mean?”

“It’s been a year today, since we sat on this exact roof and you said you wouldn’t live to see this sunset.”

Hero laughed, wrapping their arms around Villain. “And I’m glad you made that bet. I couldn’t have done this without you. Especially after I lost my lease on my house… it’s just been nice living with someone too… someone who I love so much.”

The breeze blew gently. “You know… after I’m gone, I don’t want you to mourn me. Move on. Live life to the fullest. All I want is to see you happy.” Hero gazed into Villain’s eyes, before gently pulling them in for a kiss. Villain smirked against their lover’s lips. “You will live to see many more sunsets, my love.”

They watched the vibrant colours begin to fade, as Hero sighed in content, the breeze blowing gently around them. “Hey.” They murmured. “Yes?” Villain asked, running their hand over Hero’s head. “I want you to know, that after everything… every time you feel a breeze, that’s me. My spirit will live on the wind, flying and free… and it will always be with you.” Hero’s voice cracked, as they looked up at Villain, shivering. Villain smiled, cupping their hero’s face. “I like that. I like that a lot.” They swallowed back the rising sob.

“You’re cold. Let’s go home.”

~~

Villain sat beside the bed, clutching Hero’s emaciated hand. They had been in a coma for days… and it was time. “Hero?” Villain breathed through sobs. They had heard hearing was the last thing to go. “Listen to me. I love you. Okay? I love you so, so much. I always will.” They gasped, wiping away tears. “G-Go when you’re ready… okay? Go and fly, and become the wind. It’s okay… alright? You’ll be okay…”

Villains body shuddered as they looked up at Hero’s pale face. “Go when you’re ready… go when when you’re ready…”

Villain wasn’t ready. It had only been two months since the roof picnic. They weren’t ready to say goodbye… and yet, somehow… they were.

So they sat there, repeating their phrase as Hero’s breathing got slower and shallower. They repeated it through the tears, the cries and the shakes…

And then Hero drew their last breath, sighing in relief as they became the wind.

They were finally free.

~~

Villain stood in the rain in front of the grave. Everyone, heroes and villains alike stood shoulder to shoulder, gazing at the stone.

None of them could believe it. A hero so young and full of life… gone in just over a year. So that day, they all stood together, in solidarity.

For Hero.

~~

“That’s why I can’t give this place up.” Villain whispered, gazing at the sunset. “I’m not ready to move on. I never will be.” They smiled as a gentle, warm breeze kissed their face. “But I have to move on. Which is why I have to make this place something. Help their legacy stay alive.”

Villain glanced at the assistant, who had pulled off their glasses, dabbing their eyes. “I see.” They replied. “Well. I’ll get started on the payment process, and uh… give you a moment.”

Villain nodded appreciatively, feeling the breeze, stronger and warmer this time push against them. Something told them to turn around, so they did. A gasp escaped Villain, before they could stop it.

Hero was standing there, on the edge of the roof, gleaming. Their body was strong, healthy, just as it had been before and they looked so, so happy. Warm golden light illuminated their figure as they nodded at Villain, smiling softly. They were okay. They were free.

Turning into the sun, the light glowed brightly, Villain shielding their eyes as Hero dissolved into the breeze and the light. They could almost hear Hero’s laugh of glee.

Smiling wistfully, Villain nodded.

“Goodbye, my Hero. I love you.”

[schrijverr]

I Didn’t Mean to Say I Do, but I Do. I Do. 4

Chapter 4 out of 50

Secret marriage of convenience buddie slow burn AU, where Buck and Eddie have been married for years so Buck could adopt Chris and no one at the 118 knows.

In this chapter, Evan offers his support to Eddie after Shannon has left and the three of them slot into a life together with ease. There are some ups and downs, but they’re managing… until the hospital bills come in.

On AO3.

Ships: Buddie (slowburn)

Warnings: ableism, emotionally abusive parents, child abandonment, homophobia

~~~

Chapter 4: Three Lives Becoming Intertwined

Evan watches Eddie gather himself for a moment. It’s a little weird what he’s doing, getting caught up in this divorce even more, but he can’t help himself. Evan has always liked helping people, listening to people at the bar had been nice, feeling like he could lighten their load. Same as why he’s working on the Johnson farm now, their usual farm hand had gone off to college and there wasn’t anyone they could ask. So now, a year later, here he still is.

And it is the same thing with the Diaz family. He thought Shannon was pretty from the second he saw her and when she blurted out having nothing more than an egg run as a social life, he felt for her, wanted to make her feel better. Then she talked about her divorce and on instinct he turned into a shoulder to lean on.

Now, Eddie shows up looking all out of sorts and panicked, Shannon having left him and Chris – and him, but he’s trying not to think about it – and Evan can’t help but want to help. Eddie doesn’t seem like a bad guy and he is obviously trying. It can’t be easy, being a dad that young and then suddenly also having to do it alone.

So, here he is, hearing Eddie’s side of the divorce.

Eddie tells him about getting papers served to him while he was in Afghanistan, nestled between the cookies his mom baked him and a few drawings from Chris. How he wanted to try and work it out, but Shannon refused, insisting they wouldn’t work and implying it was his fault. He is vague about why it is his fault, but Evan doesn’t push.

Then he continues about coming home and being subjected to his mom’s judgment about Chris. “I would also be crazy if that was directed at me for years. I don’t know if I’m going to be able to handle it longer, but I’m home now. She never has to speak to my mom again if she wants.”

He sighs and runs his hand through his hair again. He’s been doing that the whole time and it’s sticking up in all kind of ways. Evan thinks it looks kind of cute, but he doesn’t comment, just makes a noise to indicate he’s still listening, encouraging Eddie to go on.

“Like we were working towards a future where we’d have our own lives, but still be there together for Chris. Figuring the house and the finances, you know, straightening out the mess that was our divorce. Then she’s suddenly gone.”

“Did she say why she left?” Evan asks, an inkling of curiosity for himself, but he’s mostly invested in Eddie. It’s easier to focus on him than on himself.

Eddie looks away and murmurs: “Her mom’s sick. Cancer.” He sucks in a deep breath, before groaning: “Which probably makes me a horrible person, but I don’t get why she didn’t talk to me, you know. We could’ve worked something out, even if it was just Chris having her on holidays and birthdays, or a fucking goodbye. But no. She’s just gone.”

“She didn’t mention it at all?” Evan frowns. Now that he thinks about it, he can’t recall her talking about it either. Though a small part soothes the ache about her leaving without saying anything at the news that she’s taking care of her sick mother, she probably didn’t wanna drag him into that, because he would have. Quietly, he forgives her for leaving him. Not Chris, though.

“No,” Eddie sighs. “I know she’d been calling with her mom more, but I didn’t ask, because I wanted to give her space and her own life. It’s already bad enough that I’m living on my own couch. Though… I guess I can take the bedroom now.”

A hand goes through his hair again and he looks completely overwhelmed when he says: “Fuck, how am I going to explain to Chris why mommy isn’t there to tuck him in? And I have to go work and then I’ll have to explain to my mom why she’s babysitting and she’ll have everything to say about it and I’ll- I- I can’t-”

“Hey, Eddie, breathe, breathe,” Evan tries his best to calm the spiraling man.

He doesn’t touch him again, but his voice is strangely soothing and Eddie manages to get his heart rate under control. He doesn’t know why it’s so easy to open up to Evan, but it is. He is letting himself spiral, show anything other than being in perfect control. He hasn’t done that with anyone since Shannon told him she was pregnant.

“I’m okay,” he manages after a few seconds. “I’m sorry. I’m dumping everything all on you. I don’t even know why you’re letting me do that.”

“Because you need someone to listen,” Evan shrugs as if that truly is his reason, as if someone needing someone is truly enough for him to drop everything. Then he grins at Eddie – making his insides squirm for reasons he doesn’t want to get into – and says: “Plus, I hate to tell you, but I have been upgraded to Chris’s best friend recently. So, it’s my duty to make sure he’s okay.” His face drops a little. “I really hope he’s going to be okay.”

Eddie follows his gaze to where Chris has sat himself down on the floor, talking to the chickens as they mill around him. He is giggling to himself looking so happy and carefree. Eddie wishes that will never leave and something constricts in his chest. “Me too.”

They both fall quiet for a moment, watching Chris play. It’s nice, sharing his son’s delight with someone for a bit without judgment or a loaded history hanging over them.

“I don’t wanna lose him, you know.” The soft confession comes before Eddie can think about it, too honest for his taste the second it leaves his lips.

“You’re not going to lose him,” Evan says and Eddie can hear that Evan believes it, so much that he almost dares to believe it himself too.

However, he doesn’t dare. He knows he’s too much of a screw up for this to work out. Hell, it took only a few months of being back, before he drove away Chris’s other parent, that doesn’t exactly bode well for the future. So, he morosely says: “You can’t know that.”

“Come on, man. You can’t give up on him,” Evan says, trying to go for a tease, but it comes out a lot more genuine. He wants this to work out. He wants Chris to have a parent who cares for him. He has gotten strangely attached to the kid and it’s healing something inside him to see him have people that care. He needs Eddie to keep fighting.

“I’m not giving up on him,” Eddie says heatedly, which unknots something in Evan’s chest. “I love that kid, of course I’m not giving up. Never.” Then he turns insecure again and he can’t look in Evan’s direction as he adds: “I just- I know I can’t do it alone, I also don’t know how long I can do it with my mom, before she wins or I snap.”

His heart breaks for Eddie, who desperately wants to do right by Chris, but for whom life has made it incredibly difficult to do so. “You’re not alone.”

“What?”

“Uh, you’re- you’re not alone. I’m in your corner,” Evan says sheepishly, only realizing after how weird it is to say that. It’s not as if he’s Chris’s stepparent, he and Shannon never even properly dated, just fucked a few times. He’s closer to a babysitter, yet here he is.

“Why?” It’s comes out ruder than Eddie meant to, but he just doesn’t understand. Shannon left and she was Chris’s mother, why is this guy still here, still wanting to help. He’s not going to get anything out of it like he did from Shannon.

Evan shrinks into himself, it’s small but it’s there, before he covers it with bravado as he jokes: “Is it weird if I say the kid grew on me?”

“A little,” Eddie tells him honestly, because he never knows when to stop himself.

Luckily, Evan takes it in stride. He chuckles a little and says: “Yeah, thought so.” Then he becomes more serious and says: “Look, I know Shannon had it hard, but her leaving is going to hurt him. A lot. Chris is going to need someone to fight for him. Not to get personal, but my parents kind of didn’t care. I’d hate to see that for someone else, especially when you do care.”

“And that’s enough to want to stay here and back me up?” Eddie asks, not really believing that someone like that can be real. “Shouldn’t you be out there, seeing the world or something?”

It’s unfortunately close to what Shannon said to him a few months ago and Evan realizes with a start what he didn’t realize then; he doesn’t want to do that.

He traveled for a few years already before coming to El Paso and no matter how many crazy experiences he’s had, none of them have filled the gaping hole in his chest like meeting Chris has. He likes getting to see the kid grow up, likes knowing he’s had a hand in it. Likes knowing that he can help without screwing everything up.

“Nah, I’ve seen enough of the world. Besides, Mrs. Johnson would kill me if I left her high and dry like that,” he tells Eddie easily, squirming slightly when he sees those brown eyes are awe filled as they look at him.

���How are you a real person, man?” Eddie asks him. It isn’t a question, it’s a complement.

Evan can’t take complements like that, so he puts on his most shit eating grin as he says: “I don’t think I have to give you the birds and the bees talk, dude, you put that shit in practice already.”

“Oh fuck off,” Eddie finds himself exclaiming with a matching grin. For the first time since he was nineteen does he actually feel his age, his youth. Shannon leaving is one of the worst things that has happened to him to date, but today isn’t a total disaster.

In the end, Eddie spends the rest of his day with Chris, spoiling him as much as he can to make up for the heartbreak he’s going to bring him. He can’t bring himself to tell Chris just yet though, needs a little longer to process himself. So, he takes up Evan’s offer for help and lets the other tuck Chris in bed and watch him for the night.

It’s weird, to be in the Diaz house. Whenever he and Shannon hooked up it was in the little sideroom the Johnsons provided for him and when he watched Chris, it was at the farm. too But now he is in her home and she no longer lives there.

There are traces of her here and there. It’s clear she decorated, but moved out. There is no other personality anywhere except Chris’s.

The next morning, Eddie comes in to find Evan sleeping on the couch that he’s been using for a bed these past few months. Watching him sleep like this makes him realize how young he is. He must be around his age. He wonders how he ended up here. He says he saw a lot of the world, but this is one hell of a place to strand.

When he thinks about it, he doesn’t know much about him, just that he ended up here somehow and works for the Johnsons and has shitty parents. Shitty enough that he’s willing to stay here and help Eddie to prevent Chris from having a childhood close to his own.

In a way, Eddie relates to that, he never wants Chris to feel like he has to be the man of the house, he wants to do better. Be there for him.

He thought Shannon wanted that too, but apparently not.

Eddie still isn’t sure how he’s going to explain that to Chris and he tries not to think about it, instead quietly sneaking to the kitchen as to not wake Evan. He starts up coffee and makes two mugs, putting one on the coffee table and sipping the other.

Once the mug is empty, he goes to get Chris. The two of them do Chris’s PT exercises, before letting him go to the kitchen for breakfast. They can get dressed and brush their teeth after they’ve eaten and seen Evan out the door.

Evan gets woke up by an excited four year old crashing into him. Chris had been thrilled about Evan watching him for the night, not questioning the impromptu sleepover or the lack of mommy for the night. He seems equally thrilled that he’s there in the morning.

“Hey, little man,” Evan greets sleepily. “Did you get out of bed yourself?”

“No, daddy did. We did the morning movies,” Chris informs him excitedly.

That confuses Evan, but before he can ask, Eddie’s voice answers: “We did his PT exercises. We call them the morning movements, but the we’re working on the full word.”

“Ah,” Evan nods, still not fully awake, because he stares at Eddie for a second. He’s still dressed in his night guard uniform, looking a little disheveled and rumpled.

Eddie must interpret his look some acceptable way, because he snorts: “There’s coffee right there. Hope you’re not sick of eggs yet, because it’s the only thing I can make.”

Indeed there is a steaming mug waiting for him and it is one of the nicest things someone has done for him in years. He has to swallow a lump in his throat, praying his morning voice covers it as he states: “You’re making me breakfast?”

“Yeah, it’s the least I can do,” Eddie smiles, looking a little bashful and sheepish.

“You don’t have to, but thanks,” Evan smiles back, probably looking more fond than he intends. It is crazy how fast they’ve become friends considering their history. “Not sick of eggs yet.”

“Thank god for that,” Eddie grins, then he disappears to make breakfast, while Chris tries to tell him about this dream he had. It’s a little confusing, but Evan tries his hardest to pay attention.

Breakfast should be an awkward affair, but Chris’s presence makes it easier to talk, so it ends up being pretty nice.

Though, Evan does have to hurry to make it back to the Johnson farm on time to get started for the day, trying not to feel Mrs. Johnson’s judgy eyes. He’s probably going to be grilled during lunch so she can take the gossip back to Church come Sunday. Evan really hopes for Eddie’s sake that he’ll manage not to crack.

Meanwhile Eddie and Chris take a shower and a bath respectively, before brushing their teeth together. Chris is too young to have the motor skills to do it himself yet, but Eddie doesn’t mind. He loves getting to spend mornings with his son, never wants to give any of it up. His heart constricts at the reminder that Shannon was willing to give this all up.

When they’re both dressed, he doesn’t put Chris on the floor to play to his heart content while he naps on the couch, instead he puts Chris down on the couch and takes a seat on the coffee table so they can have a talk. “Hey, mijo,” he starts. “I wanted to have a little talk with you.”

“Okay, daddy,” Chris replies, so open and trusting, it makes Eddie want to vomit.

“You may have noticed, but mommy wasn’t here last night,” Eddie says, hating every word. “She is not going to be here tonight either. Mommy is gone. She left and she is not going to be here for a while.” He can’t bring himself to say forever, can’t crush any hope Chris might have like that, even if the custody papers that are burning in his bedroom drawer tell a different story.

“Mommy is gone?” Chris repeats in a small voice, lip starting to wobble.

“Yeah, mijo. She had to go,” Eddie confirms, heart ripping in two as he reaches out to Chris to pull him in his lip.

“But she didn’t say bye bye,” Chris tells him, as if that is going to change anything. To him it probably does. When you go, you say bye bye, so Shannon can’t be gone, because she didn’t say bye bye. Eddie sadly knows it doesn’t work like that.

“She had to hurry,” Eddie lies, because what else is he going to tell him? That mommy didn’t want to be his mommy anymore and dropped him with her fuck buddy and left without saying goodbye, because she didn’t want to risk getting stopped? No, thanks.

“When you went, you said bye bye. You said bye bye and you came back. When is mommy coming back? I want mommy,” Chris demands, voice becoming less and less comprehensible as he breaks down in tears.

Eddie hugs him as close to his chest as he can, stroking his back as he lets Chris sob. He wonders if Shannon had to do the same when he left, then remembers Chris was too young to remember, he just remembers the bye byes from their calls.

Chris sobs for an hour and nothing Eddie says makes it better. How can it? The whole thing reminds him of the brief period he was home before he re-enlisted, how Chris had cried and cried and he felt so out of his depth. That doesn’t even begin to compare to how he feels now.

In the end, Chris cries himself to exhaustion and Eddie has to use the time to sleep too. He lies down on the couch, Chris on his chest. He’s so big already that his feet rest on his thighs, tears burn at the realization how much he missed, how much Shannon is going to miss.

The sleep he has is fitful and barely there, both he and Chris are cranky and miserable for the rest of the day. They cuddle up on the couch and watch cartoons as Eddie ignores the voice in his head that sounds a lot like his mom telling him it’s bad for Chris. He needs this. They both do.

Dinner is a silent affair, just the two of them poking at the sad excuse for a dinner. Shannon usually cooks, because Eddie is hopeless. Another hole she left, another place he’s failing. He hates that he’s going to have to ask his mom for help at some point.

Evan comes around after dinner and gives Eddie a look when Chris isn’t as excited as yesterday to see him. He can see his own heartbreak and understanding reflected in Evan’s eyes when Chris asks: “Are you going to leave too?”

“No, buddy, I’m here to stay,” Evan tells him with such conviction that both Chris and Eddie believe him. Eddie nearly cries, because this stranger has shown so much compassion and kindness for his son and he can’t ever repay him or verbalize how much he is already doing, even two days into knowing each other.

After that they fall into a routine quite quickly. Surprisingly easily too. Evan has a planner side, getting out a notebook and some paper and figuring out a schedule that works.

Eddie spends the days with Chris, waking him up and doing the morning routine, usually eating breakfast with the three of them, before Evan has to leave for work. Eddie naps as Chris plays, until dinner, which Evan has started to eat with them after Chris asked him to stay one day and Eddie didn’t say no. After dinner Eddie leaves for work and Evan puts Chris to bed, before spending the night.

At first Evan sleeps on the couch, but Eddie knows from personal experience that it is not comfortable, so he tells him to take the bed. Technically they’re sharing, but they never sleep at the same time, so it’s not that big a deal.

They run so smoothly that it takes a week and a half before his mom finds out Shannon left. And that is only because Mrs. Johnson mentions she hasn’t been around while at Church and then Chris cries when mom asks when they go over for Sunday brunch (which is still required even if Eddie doesn’t go to Church itself anymore).

The lecture he gets is one for the books and Eddie actually storms out in anger, not going to Sunday brunch for two weeks, until his mom comes to his house to drag him there. Eddie thanks his lucky stars Evan is out at work when she does, since he doesn’t think they’d survive them meeting just quite yet.

His mom does eventually learn that it is Evan on who he is relying and she has a few choice of words for that too, which sting more than Eddie expected.

Even though they mostly function on opposite schedules, they have become quite good friends in the quiet moments they have together and the moments they share with Chris. It’s nice to have someone to share being a parent with, someone he can turn to when Chris does something adorable, someone that has his back when it’s difficult.

He defends Evan, screaming at his mom how Evan has done more for him and Chris than she has and that he’s not trying to take Chris from him, but is actually helping.

“You’re as bad as Shannon was, letting any stranger without a clue into Chris’s life. How is that going to keep him healthy? Neither of you know how to take care of a special child like Chris. You are going to get him hurt and it’s only a matter of time, before Evan leaves too,” she hisses. “Why would he want to spend his life here with you, huh? Do you even know what his motives are? Or are you too blind, still following Shannon’s lead?”

“Evan isn’t going to leave,” Eddie tells her, but he can’t tell her why, he just know that when Evan promised Chris he is here to stay, Eddie believed him.

“We’ll see about that,” mom huffs.

“I guess we will,” Eddie shoots back, before slamming the door closed.

When Evan comes back with Chris from doing groceries later, they find Eddie sitting at the table staring into his coffee. He smiles when Chris comes in and engages enough that Chris doesn’t notice anything is off when he leaves to go play, but Evan does.

“Are you okay?” he asks, taking a seat across from Eddie.

“Yeah. Mom came by, heard you were helping. She didn’t like that,” Eddie sighs. “And I can’t even blame her entirely. I don’t know why you’re doing this, Evan. Chris is my kid, I’m gonna fight for him, I got myself in this mess. You don’t have to give away your youth to take care of him. Why are you still here?”

“I- I can go if you want me to,” Evan says, sounding insecure.

“Please don’t.” The words are out before Eddie can stop them, but he doesn’t regret them when Evan relaxes again and smiles. Eddie gives him a crooked smile and says: “It would be a bad look if you left after I yelled at my mom that you wouldn’t.”

“Yeah, that would be a bad look,” Evan grins back.

Both are quiet for a second, then Evan breaks it again: “And you didn’t get yourself into a mess or giving away your youth. Or mine. Chris is a good kid. The best. I care for him. It would break my heart to leave him.”

“It would break his too,” Eddie says, not adding that it would break his own as well. Evan is his only friend, he can’t imagine what it would do if he left too. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“Me too.”

And that is that. Evan is staying. Something that becomes more permanent when Helena tells Mrs. Johnson about what her ranch hand has been doing and she decides to give it a whole new spin, before unceremoniously kicking Evan out and firing him.

Eddie doesn’t even question it, before offering Evan a place in his own home until he figures it out. He slots in at home as easily as he as he has in every other aspect of his life. Their life.

He gets a job in construction instead and Chris gets to an age where he goes to kindergarten. Their routine grows and changes with them.

Morning routine is still Eddie’s responsibility and they eat breakfast as a family, before Evan leaves for work. Eddie drops Chris off at school, then sleeps. He does pick up and spends the afternoon with Chris, before Evan comes home.

Evan can actually semi-cook. He’s not great, but he’s not as horrid as Eddie. They have four meals they eat in rotation. It works for them.

They eat together, then Eddie has to leave for his night shift and Evan does nighttime routine. He is quite smug about it when Chris informs Eddie that Evan is better at doing the voices when reading stories.

On the days Evan doesn’t have to work, they all sleep in, having a lazy breakfast. They go on drives or make outing to the ice cream parlor. When they can afford it they go to the zoo or to a museum. Both know they get some looks, but they’ve learned to ignore those. They’re friends, maybe unnaturally close, but that’s for Chris’s sake.

When Eddie doesn’t have to work, they do the reading together, both voicing the different characters – hence the comparison – before dropping on the couch with a beer. Usually they stay up later than they should, Eddie’s opposite schedule ingrained and Evan who is easily convinced that another hour isn’t so bad. Those are the nights they bond.

For all they do together, they have spend that much time together where they can talk about personal things. Not for child ears things.

But during those nights Evan gets the full rundown of the Diaz family with all its members, Eddie’s childhood and how he wants to do different, better. He also gets more about meeting Shannon, their brief love turned into a marriage that fell apart almost quicker than their love had come together.

Meanwhile, Evan opens up slightly about his own childhood, the one he ran from, the sister that left him and let him go in turn. He hasn’t gotten a letter back in years, tries not to let it get to him. He hasn’t exactly been diligent in writing them either, too caught up in parenting, too unsure what to say, where to begin.

When Chris has to get two surgeries, they sit with each other in the hospital. Eddie wasn’t there for the first one, he imagines Shannon sitting there by herself – or worse with mom – and doesn’t blame her for breaking under the pressure.

He does blame her for not being there when Chris asks if mommy is going to come now that he’s in the hospital, like she had last time. The way Chris breaks all over again when Eddie has to answer no, much like he had during that first birthday and Christmas.

It doesn’t get better after those two hospital stays either. The bills come in the mail and Eddie finds himself at the kitchen table instead of the couch on with Evan one of those precious days he doesn’t have to work. He runs a hand through his hair as he stares at the number. He chokes out: “We’re not going to be able to pay these, even if we both get a second job.”

“What are we going to do?” Evan asks, looking equally as pale as he meets Eddie’s eyes, the calculator hanging uselessly in his hands.

Resigned determination comes over him and he feels detached from himself as the simple answer comes to him: “I’m gonna have to re-enlist.”

~~

A/N:

Nothing said about Shannon this chapter is meant as hate to her or her choices and I hope it doesn’t come across like that. It’s just Eddie’s POV and he’s angry at her, understandably so. However, I do think Shannon has valid reasons for leaving too, even if she could have gone about it a little better. (I actually have a whole Shannon backstory for this verse, but idk if I’ll write it down)

[tip-top-cloud-surfer]

The Forgotten Nest (Part 3) - Rooster

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw / Mitchell!OC (Cora)

Word Count: 4.0k

This work, all my works, and my entire blog are 18+ Only

Warnings: Past Unplanned Teenage Pregnancy; Angst; Absent Father Figures; The 'He Didn't Know About the Pregnancy' Trope; Repeating Trauma Cycles; Crying; Mentions of Cancer (Ice); Named Mitchell Daughter OC (Cora) and Named Mitchell-Bradshaw Son (Nickie)

Summary: Rooster runs into Cora. Ice talks to Nickie about his dad. And Cora tries to not lose her shit.

A.N. There are references to a previous unplanned teenage pregnancy (between two eighteen-year-olds) in this fic. There won't be any flashback scenes to the pregnancy, but the references are still there, so if that makes you uncomfortable, please do not read.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Epilogue

Master List

“Mom?” Nickie called, walking down the stairs to see his mom sipping her morning coffee. Cora stared her son down, recognizing his tone, and waiting for his request. “I know that I’m grounded, but can I take my car today?”

“Have they changed the definition of ‘grounded’ in the last day?” Cora asked sarcastically.

“No, but I promised Ice Pops that I would do some yard work for him,” Nickie replied, causing Cora to raise one suspicious eyebrow. “I have the texts to prove it.”

Cora held out her hand and Nickie placed his phone in it without hesitation. Setting down her coffee, Cora scrolled through a few texts to see that Ice had, in fact, texted Nickie to come over and help out a bit around the house. And after verifying that it was, in fact, Ice’s number, Cora returned the phone to Nickie. Pulling out his keys from the cupboard, she handed those over too.

“You get a free pass today, but you still have twenty-nine days without the car to finish before you get it back completely. And you need to text me when you leave and when you arrive. At school and at Ice’s. And no extra stops, got it?” Cora warned her son, who nodded quickly. “And so help me, Nicholas Peter, if you get another ticket, you’ll be grounded for the rest of your life.”

“Mom, I’ll be fine,” Nickie replied, moving to grab breakfast from the fridge.

“Mhmm,” Cora hummed, shooting her son a look. Setting her mug down in the sink, Cora turned to her son and held out her arms. Nickie instantly reached out and let his mom pull him into a hug and press a kiss to the side of his head. “I love you. But don’t do anything stupid.”

“Mom, I’ll be fine,” Nick reiterated, straightening up. “And I love you too.”

“You’ve got toothpaste on your cheek,” Cora sighed, moving to wipe it with her thumb.

“Mom!” Nickie complained, leaning away from her touch. “Don’t you have to go to work?”

Cora laughed and lightly pushed her son on the shoulder before moving to grab her keys and purse to head to work.

~~~~~

Bradley swore that he still had steam bursting from his eardrums after Hangman’s snide comments in the hangar. After Hangman sauntered away, Rooster broke away from Maverick and the other Daggers, heading in any direction other than the one that Hangman left in to find some semblance of peace.

Finding a quiet corner of base that no one else seemed to be around, Rooster collapsed against the wall of another hangar. Staring out at the waves crashing in the distance, he pulled his knees to his chest and dropped his forehead to his knees.

The whole situation in Miramar was starting to border on unbearable for Rooster.

Between seeing Maverick for the first time in nearly seventeen years, Hangman’s stupid comments about his dad’s accident, and his inability to find Cora, Rooster was really starting to reach his emotional limit. And for Hangman to bring up his dad in front of Maverick at Top Gun of all places . . . Hangman was lucky that other people got in between them in time.

Holding his hand to his head, Rooster tried to regulate his breathing. Wasn’t that what Cora always told him to do when he got like this after his mom died? Four. Six. Eight. Breath in through his nose for four. Hold it for six. Let it out through his mouth for eight.

Four. Six. Eight.

Four. Six. Eight.

Four. Six. Eight.

Dropping his hand away from his face, Rooster thought back to the last time that he got like this while Cora was around. He couldn’t even remember what triggered it that time, probably a nightmare that he blocked out of his memory to keep some personal peace. They were sleeping in his bed that night with Maverick off to Europe for a week.

He remembered how she gathered him in her arms and rested her head on his chest. He remembered her grabbing his hand and holding it in her own as she coached him through the breathing patterns. He remembered how once she managed to calm him down and they settled, she suggested that they go and get a late-night snack at the one diner in town that was always open.

As his stomach growled at the memories of those late nights at the diner, Rooster slowly picked himself off the ground and headed for the locker room. He assumed that it was cleared out by now, so he could get in, get out, and start heading for the diner in record time.

Though he wasn’t sure that a burger and fries was really going to solve this problem for him.  

~~~~~

Nickie pulled into the Kazansky’s driveway right on time and parked outside of their garage. Leaving his bag in the car, Nickie headed up to the front door and knocked lightly. A few moments later, Sarah came to answer the door and smiled up at him.

“Nickie! Oh, you’re getting so big!”

“Hey, Aunt Sarah,” he returned, letting her pull him into a tight hug. “How’ve you been?”

“Oh, you know,” Sarah breathed out, withholding a rather big secret from the teenager. For his own peace of mind. “How’s school going?”

“Good,” Nickie replied, stepping inside. “Is Ice Pops in a meeting? I don’t want to do anything loud if he’s got a meeting going on.”

“No, no, he’s free for the rest of the evening. But I think he wanted to talk to you first,” Sarah stated, gesturing down the hall. “Go right in.”

Nickie nodded and walked down the hall towards Ice’s office. Lightly tapping on the door, Nickie let himself into the office. Ice spun in his chair and smiled over at Nickie, who was practically like one of his own grandkids. It wasn’t odd for Ice and Sarah to watch Nickie while Cora was working or going to school and Nickie was very fond of his Ice Pops, a nickname that he started using when he was only three.

“Hey, Ice Pops,” Nickie called, dragging a chair over. “You wanted to talk to me?”

I thought that you were grounded, Ice typed out, causing Nickie to sigh.

“Did my mom tell you?” Nickie asked, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

Ice shrugged, not giving away his source, but Nickie was sure that his mom texted Ice about it. While Cora loved her dad and appreciated his support through everything, Maverick wasn’t always the voice of reason that she needed. Especially when it came to raising Nickie. Ice was practically a second father to her and Nickie knew his mom treated Ice’s advice as sacred and confided in him about most things.

Have you told her?

“Told her what?”

In response, Ice tapped the insignia on his screen. Nickie shook his head slowly, sitting back in his seat.

“You know how she is, Ice. She’d have a heart attack about it,” Nickie replied, fiddling with his fingers and staring at the ground. “I’ve got to warm her up to the idea more first.”

And Mav?

“Are you kidding? The only times that I’ve ever heard him talk about the Academy was to talk crap about it. And the whole Navy politics aspect of it all,” Nickie murmured, resting his head on his hand. “He’d be on my mom’s side on this one. I know it.”

How do you know?

“He’s trying to get me to fly commercial,” Nickie stated, turning back to Ice’s gaze. “It’s like he wants me to follow in his footsteps, but not all the way. And he keeps trying to get me to talk to Uncle Slider about the commercial industry and I’d rather not drag anyone else into my mess.”

Ice nodded slowly, seemingly thinking over Nickie’s words.

One day, you’ll need to tell them.

“I know,” Nickie murmured, rubbing his cheek slowly. “But I don’t want to freak them out. Not right now. They’re both on edge with this mission and . . .” Nickie trailed off before turning back to Ice, who nodded slowly to show that he understood. “So . . . he’s really here? In town?”

Ice nodded solemnly, folding his arms across his stomach and looking very serious for a moment.

“And he’s on the mission?”

Ice nodded once again, causing Nickie to shift in his seat. After a few moments of silence, Ice reached out for his keyboard once again.

Talk to your mom.

“Ice, she’s going to freak out,” Nickie stated seriously, leaning forward a bit. “She always just . . . shuts down whenever anyone wants to talk about him.” Ice, in response, pointed at the screen once more, causing Nickie to sigh. “I know, I know, it’s her story to tell, not anyone else’s and if I want to know the full story, I have to ask her.”

Ice stared at Nickie for a moment, noting all of the similarities that he shared with his dad that he didn’t even realize. It wasn’t too long ago, after all, that Bradley Bradshaw was sitting in that same chair, asking Ice about applying to the Naval Academy. And Nickie was sixteen. He wasn’t a baby anymore. Nickie needed to know about his dad. He needed to be given the choice to know.

“Is he . . . my dad . . . do you think he’s . . .” Nickie stumbled over his words, trying to figure out how to phrase it properly. “Do you think he’s a bad person?” Nickie finally landed on. Ice shook his head without hesitation, which caused Nickie to nod slowly. “Do you think that he’ll come looking for us? For my mom? For . . . me?”

Ice shrugged his shoulders honestly, not knowing the answer to Nickie’s question. Turning back to his screen, Ice typed again.

Do you want him to?

“No,” Nickie stated immediately, frowning and on the defensive. Ice sat back in his seat, letting Nickie get out his anger at his dad. Ice personally knew the feeling very well. “He left and never looked back. Why would I want him around? Why would I want someone who hurt my mom and who never cared to stick around to meet me . . . why would I want them around?”

Ice was about to type away again when he was suddenly overtaken by coughs. Nickie, the attentive boy that he was, quickly got up and handed Ice some tissues. As Ice continued to hack away, Nickie got up and filled up Ice’s glass with some water from a nearby bottle. Nickie eyed Ice worriedly as he started to settle, his brown eyes quickly assessing Ice for injury or concern.

“Are you alright, Ice Pops?”

Ice waved his hand in Nickie’s direction in a ‘stop worrying about me’ motion that caused Nickie to crack a small smile. Returning to his seat across from Ice, Nickie waited patiently for Ice to settle again and reach for his keyboard. After taking another few moments to catch his breath, Ice reached for the keyboard once more.

Don’t be afraid to talk to your mom.

“I know,” Nickie sighed, nodding along slowly.

And don’t you dare get another speeding ticket.

“Okay, first of all, it was a speed trap,” Nickie stated to his own defense, earning a disapproving look from Ice in return. “And second of all, I was only going eight above the speed limit and you know that they just gave me a ticket because it was the end of the month and they had to meet their quota.”

Ice’s disapproving stare intensified just a bit more at Nickie’s words.

“Come on, Ice Pops, that’s the look you give Gramps when he does something stupid. It was just a speeding ticket!”

Ice made a motion of ‘I got my eye on you’ in Nickie’s direction, causing the teenager to hold up his hands in surrender.

“I got it, Admiral.”

Ice motioned for Nickie to stand up and slowly moved to do the same. Nickie quickly stood up and offered a steadying hand to Ice, a little worried that he would keel over. But Ice stayed on his feet and with strong hands, held Nickie at arm’s length.

“Talk to them, Nickie. Please,” Ice grunted out with his voice strained from the cancer.

“I will, Ice. I will,” Nickie agreed softly, staring worriedly at his second grandfather. “Are you okay? Did you want me to call Aunt Sarah for you?”

Ice shook his head and patted Nickie on his shoulder before pulling the teenager in for a tight hug. Nickie returned the hug, not truly realizing the significance of it.

“I’ll talk to them,” Nickie murmured out quietly, causing Ice to nod and squeeze him tighter.

~~~~~

Cora pulled into the parking lot and headed for one of the staple restaurants in Miramar. Her dad brought her and Bradley and later Nickie to the famous diner all the time. Birthdays, graduations, all of those things, they always had dinner here. And, frankly, she didn’t feel like cooking tonight.

Thanking the cashier for the food, Cora turned and headed out of the restaurant, missing the fact that one of the bags on the shelf behind the counter was labeled ‘Bradshaw.’ Heading out of the restaurant, Cora turned for her car and nearly bumped into the person who was coming around the corner.

“I’m so sorry, I—”

Cora’s breath caught in her throat when she looked up to meet a familiar pair of brown eyes. A pair that she saw every time that she looked at her son.

“Cora?” Bradley breathed out, seemingly in just as much shock as her.

“Bradley,” she returned, gulping air nervously.

A bit fidgety, she took a step to the side to get out of the way of the door while also putting some distance in between her and Bradley. She wasn’t really sure what her body was going to do—hell, her hand was itching to smack him across the face but that was considered assault in the State of California, so she just pressed her fist to the side of her leg.

“You’re in Miramar . . .” Cora trailed off, like she didn’t know that information already.

“Yeah,” Bradley agreed, nodding slowly. “And so are you.”

“Yeah, I am,” Cora stated, shifting her weight on her feet.

“You . . .” Rooster started, causing Cora to raise an eyebrow, waiting for him to find his words. Hell, he had sixteen years to prep a sentence and all he had was ‘you.’ “. . . you’re a nurse?”

Cora glanced down at her scrubs before turning back to Bradley, an unimpressed expression settling on her face. Steeling her emotions and reminding herself that acting out would only draw more attention to herself and Nickie as a result, Cora nodded slowly.

“Yeah, I’m a nurse. And you’re a naval aviator,” Cora replied, pursing her lips together.

“Yeah, I am.”

“Well, I’m glad that you got what you always wanted,” Cora stated, forcing a smile.

“Cora, I . . .” Rooster paused when he noticed how many people were milling around, “. . . I was actually hoping to talk to you while I was in town.”

“About?” Cora pressed, her patience running thin.

“How we left—”

“—You left. You left us,” Cora interjected emotionally, causing Rooster to pause for a moment.

“Us?” Bradley asked, frowning with confusion.

“Me and my dad,” Cora corrected herself, lying straight through her teeth.

“Cora, you know why I had to leave,” Bradley insisted, causing Cora to force herself to take a breath before she actually smacked him across the face. “I wasn’t going to stay in a house with someone who betrayed me like that.”

“And I betrayed you?” Cora asked sharply, causing Bradley to straighten up. “Did I, Bradley?”

“You weren’t listening to me,” Rooster stated, earning a sharp glare from Cora.

“And you sure paid it forward by ignoring me for sixteen years,” Cora snapped back, causing Rooster to frown. “I called you. I texted you. I sent you letters.” She let out an incredible laugh and shook her head. “And you didn’t feel bad enough to return any of those before.”

“I’m sorry, Cora,” Rooster replied, causing her glare to intensify. “I’m sorry for leaving you.”

“Okay. You can mark me off of your list and move on,” Cora stated simply, causing Rooster to frown.

“What are you talking about?”

“All of you do it,” Cora stated, referencing her own father and the men who raised her. “Right before some mission that you know is excessively dangerous, you’ll start going around, making amends, and leaving things on better notes than usual so that if God forbid something happens to you, in your last seconds you won’t be consumed by guilt.”

Cora stared up at Rooster with a fire in her eyes before forcing it down and reminding herself that she had Nickie waiting at home for her. She had Nickie. And she didn’t need Rooster’s help. She wasn’t a scared teenager with a little baby anymore.  

They were better off on their own. And she didn’t need Rooster’s sympathy either.

“You’re free,” Cora replied, shooting Rooster a look before turning and heading to her car.

Bradley stood there for a moment, absolutely speechless and confused about what just happened. He had severely underestimated how hurt Cora was by his leaving all those years ago. He knew that they were in love at the time but they were teenagers. And nearly seventeen years had passed since he left. Frankly, he assumed that she got over him a long time ago.

Hell, she looked more pissed than he felt when he saw Maverick for the first time in the hangar. Confused and trapped in a loop of questions that he didn’t have the answers to, Rooster slowly entered the diner to pick up his food and head back to base to stew in his emotions.

~~~~~

Cora furiously washed the dishes in the sink, trying to let her frustration out on the ceramic. Her brief conversation with Bradley kept running through her mind and she found herself grinding her teeth in a fit of rage and frustration.

She barely heard the door open and Nickie step inside. Noting his mom at the sink, Nickie slowly approached her with clear caution in his steps.

“Mom?” Nickie called softly.

“Dinner is on the table. I got you your usual,” Cora stated, still scrubbing away.

“Are you okay?”

“Fine,” Cora grunted out. “Why do you ask?”

“Because I want to talk about my dad,” Nickie explained to his mom after a few moments.

“You—”

Cora spun to her son, metaphorically smacked across the face with that comment. The mug that she had thoroughly scrubbed slipped out of her soapy hands and shattered on the ground from the force of her spin. Nickie jumped and Cora seemed to snap out of her trance at the sound of broken ceramic.  

“Shit! Don’t walk over here!”

“Mom?”

“I’m fine, Nickie. Just grab me the broom, please.”

Cora squatted down and started picking up the bigger pieces while Nickie went to grab the broom. Together, though Cora tried to shoo her son away, they cleaned up the mess and deposited it in the trashcan outside. Putting the broom back in the closet, Cora slowly turned to her son with a withdrawn and nervous expression.

“You want to talk about your dad?” she asked softly, barely above a whisper.

“If you want to, Mom, I know—” Nickie started, but Cora cut him off.

“—No, no,” Cora interjected, waving her hand around. “It’s . . . you’re sixteen. And . . .” She trailed off, looking at the ground for a moment, “. . . you have every right to know about your dad.”

Nickie and Cora settled out on the back porch, where Cora and Maverick had their conversation about the subject just a few days prior. Cora jittered a bit nervously, but her gaze was supportive as Nickie tried to form his questions. Grabbing Nickie’s hand, Cora gave it a reassuring squeeze.

“Who was he?” Nickie asked softly, causing Cora to squeeze his hand a little tighter.

“He’s . . . he was a family friend. A very close friend. Your grandfather and his father, they were best friends. And so, we became best friends. And he eventually came to live with us. And then we . . . we fell in love.” Cora forced a smile as tears came to her eyes at the memories. “And we made some choices that we probably shouldn’t have because your grandfather was gone a lot in those days.”

Rubbing the back of Nickie’s hand slowly, wanting to make sure that the conversation was as painless as possible, if it was even possible, Cora turned to her son again.

“And then he and your grandfather, they had a fight. A very bad fight. And, so, he left.” Cora looked down at the ground, trying to gather herself. “He left and I found out that I was pregnant with you about a month later. I tried to contact him but after a couple years of no answers . . . I gave up. And I just focused on raising you on my own with your grandfather and everyone else here.”

“He never returned your calls? Or anything?” Nickie asked, his frown deepening.

“No,” Cora whispered out softly. “Not one.”

Nickie nodded slowly, pursing his lips together. He stared at the ground, clenching and unclenching his jaw as he worked through some emotions that he usually tucked away.

“Does he know that I exist?” Nickie asked, turning back to his mom.

“I don’t think so,” Cora stated honestly. “I honestly don’t think he ever received or read any of my messages.”

Nickie nodded again, dropping his head down so that his mom couldn’t see his expression. Choking up a bit, Nickie tried to steady himself.

“Did you ever wish that . . . that I . . . that I wasn’t—”

“—No!” Cora interjected immediately, her voice breaking. She reached out for her son, pulling him closer to her. “Nickie, look at me.” Gently grabbing her son’s face and turning his head so that he faced her, Cora rubbed his cheeks with her thumbs. “You are the most important person in the world to me, Nickie, and I wouldn’t trade you for anything or anyone in the world. Do you understand me?”

Cora was sobbing herself now and she pulled her son into her arms. Holding her son, Cora rocked him back and forth as she felt his tears start to soak the shoulder of her shirt.

“Don’t you ever let another person’s actions determine your own self-worth, Nickie. And don’t you ever think that I regret what I did to have you.” Cora held her son tighter as her own emotions cracked. “You are my son and I want you and I love you, Nickie. And there is nothing in this world that could ever change that. That will ever change that.”

“I love you too, Mom,” Nickie choked out, causing Cora to hold him closer. The two of them cried together for a moment before Nickie added, “We don’t need him.”

“No, we don’t,” Cora sniffled, rubbing Nickie’s back. “We don’t.”

Part 1 Part 2 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Epilogue

A.N. When will Brad Brad finally find out about Nickie? 👀👀 the next chapter!

Tags: @xoxabs88xox@eternallyvenus @mygyn @kmc1989 @thegoddessc @midnightmagpiemama @badasspizzalover @praline357

[mermaidgirl30]

✨Dancing With Fire Part 5: Hold me now✨

Masterlist

Pairing: Joel x fem! reader

Word Count: 13.2k

Summary: The pressure keeps building at the theater. You feel like you’re about to break, when all you wanted to do was dance in the first place. Will you push everyone away like you always do, will Joel step in and save the day like he always does, or will you lose everything you ever loved?

Tags: Angst, anxiety/depression, feelings, no explicit smut in this chapter, all the angst and feelings, protective! Joel, so much love

Rating: Explicit (18+ Only MDNI)

A/N: I’m sorry, I was really feeling all the angst for this chapter. And then Joel 🥹 Joel is just so perfect and soft and so sweet and he will do anything for sunshine 🥹 Please leave me comments and tell me what you think of this one, there’s nothing I love more. I truly love writing this story, and it hits home in a lot of places 😩 Also, this chapter was very long and could’ve been two but it’s okay 😅

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

“It’s like there’s cancer in my blood, it’s like there’s water in my lungs. And I can’t take another step, please, tell me I am not undone. It’s like there’s fire in my skin and I’m drowning from within. I can’t take another breath, please, tell me I am not undone.”

- “Pittsburgh” by The Amity Affliction

Monday rolled around as fast as a speeding train, crashing into you like a stony brick wall. It pulled at you, screaming your name as it called you back to the theater. Back to your hellish nightmare that you wanted to so desperately escape from. The night before it fed on your mind, slow and deadly, eating away at you like a rat chewing its way through a bundle of wires. What kept you calm and sane was Joel.

You ended up staying the entire weekend at his place, wrapped up in his warmth as he held you close to him every single night. And when he crowded your body, when he held you against his broad chest and grazed his calloused fingers against your skin gently, it brought you instant peace.

He was a wave of serenity, a cool cloud that covered you in warmth and protection. He was what kept you together, what kept you calm enough so you could breathe freely. And when his lips came down on yours and you breathed in his coffee scent, it nearly sent you over the edge. Every single time. He was perfect, nothing less than that. Your safe space, your everything.

“You ready to head out?” he asked as he finished the last of his coffee while you finalized putting the last bobby pin in your hair, smoothing out the flyaways from your face. You double checked that your eye liner was on point and nodded to yourself in the mirror.

“I’m ready as I’ll ever be,” you sighed, gathering your practice bag as you zipped up your lilac North Face jacket. Joel nodded and turned off the kitchen light, opening the door as he invited the cool autumn breeze in. You stepped over the frayed welcome mat, and then he shut the door and pulled the lock tight behind him.

You waited at the end of the stairs for him, looking out into the misty day of New York. It was dreary, cloudy, a cold day that weighed on your head like a dark cloud about to pour all its dread and lightning on you. But you already felt that, felt the heavy sensation dragging you down as you waited for it to end. You just wanted it to be over. Let it be over.

Joel pulled you out of your dark thoughts and put his hand on the small of your back, leading you down the street and towards the theater. You were quiet this morning, barely saying a word throughout breakfast, almost too anxious to eat. But Joel made sure you ate. He wouldn’t let you leave the house without something in your stomach. And you were so grateful for him. He was too kind, too caring, too good for you. But you couldn’t imagine sinking away from him. No. You wouldn’t imagine it. It was too painful, too fresh. You would be an absolute wreck without him.

He noticed the silence and the anxious thoughts running through your head, but he didn’t say anything. He just took your hand in his and squeezed, letting his calloused thumb brush over the back of your hand as it instantly eased you of any worries. It was kind of crazy how he could do that. That he could take all your worries and toss them aside as he filled you with sunshine and warmth with just a touch of his hand. And his voice. God, his voice. It was angelic, celestial, a sound that filled you with instant peace. And you’d never get enough of it, never get enough of him.

When you finally made it to the front of the theater, you stopped and caught a glimpse of the advertisement for the upcoming Swan Lake ballet. There you were, right on the front of the billiard in your white swan dress, gently smiling into the camera for all the world to see.

That didn’t feel like you anymore. You felt like the black swan now, the darker version of yourself. A broken, empty shell that sat hollow in the darkness. Your eyebrows furrowed together as you stared at that picture of the girl, the happy girl. The girl you used to be before you met Pierre. Before you were worked to death like a slave on that stage, brusied and ripped to shreds over and over again like an elephant in a cage at a fucked up circus. You felt the tears prick behind your eyes, felt everything come down inside you. It was like your walls were torn down, just like a building that was destroyed to shreds and knocked to mere ash and broken concrete.

You felt yourself slipping, felt your body start to shake until Joel grabbed your shoulders and turned you in his direction, knocking you out of your dark hole that you were spiraling into. “Hey, look at me,” he said urgently as his deep brown eyes searched yours, looking for any shroud of evidence that you were okay. But he knew you weren’t. He knew.

“Talk to me,” he gently demanded as his eyebrows pinched together and his eyes turned to a darker, more charcoal color that was muted and desperately seeking for you to grasp onto him.

“I…I…” you stuttered out, no words coming to your hollow mind, so you tried again. “I’m scared. Joel, I’m so scared,” you said shakily as you grabbed on to his button-up flannel shirt and dug your fingers into the smooth material, trying to get a grip on reality as fear tried to take over again. Your eyes were wide, and you could feel the sweat bead through your forehead and drip through your hair as your heartbeat raced against your chest chaotically.

“Hey, it’s okay. Look at me. Look at me,” he gently soothed as he cupped each side of your face and lifted your watery eyes to meet his. He looked carefully at you, his brown eyes searching for clarity underneath your clouds of grey waning down on you. “Just look at me. Breathe,” he eased out, letting out a long breath as he urged you to follow after him. You slowly followed his movements, focusing on deep breaths and slow inhales. He grounded you back to earth, back to where you could sort of breathe again, and the ringing ears gently died down. No more ocean sounds swishing around in your ears, it was just Joel’s voice now. Just Joel.

“There ya go, sunshine. Atta girl. Take a couple more deep breaths for me,” he instructed as he slowed your heart rate back to normal, letting all your anxiety come to an end as you focused on those caramel eyes swirling in front of you.

Just breathe, focus on Joel. Joel, Joel, Joel.

“Feel any better?” he asked as the pad of his thumb skimmed over your cheek, pulling you back together piece by little piece with just the touch of his rough skin against yours.

“Mhm,” you hummed out as you grabbed his wrist, wrapping your hand around it tightly as you coiled yourself around him, around his shielding wings from the cold, broken theater that sat in front of you like a haunted mausoleum with ghosts coming out of the walls, warning you to run away if you could.

“Good,” he answered as he continued grazing his thumb against you, calming your nerves gradually. “You’ve got this, baby. You go in there with your head held high and dance your heart out. You’re the swan. The majestic, beautiful star that is gonna absolutely kill it opening night. No one can take that away from you, no one can stop that shine that I see in you when you dance from the soul. You can do this, I believe in you,” he emphasized his last words as he stared intently at you with those honey flecked eyes that you loved.

Love, love, love. That’s what it was, that’s all you could see in him. Love. And you’d tell him how you really felt about him, just not now. Not in this vulnerable moment when you were almost torn to shreds by your insides fighting against you.

You can do this, I believe in you. The words rang through your head again and again as you processed just what he said to you. He believes in you. Joel does… Joel.

“I… Joel… thank you. For believing in me,” you whispered out, almost afraid to speak the words as the tears licked at the backs of your eyes, threatening to spill over if you got too emotional.

“You’re welcome, sunshine. Just remember, whatever you decide I’ll back you up. If you want to dance then dance. If you want to walk out that door today then I’ll gladly follow you out. I’ll go with you anywhere, all you have to do is ask,” he said with meaningful words and eyes that threatened to take you over the edge once more.

“Okay,” you nodded, gulping down any tears that threatened to spill. You had work to do. You needed to see this through. You wouldn’t give up, you’d never give up. “I need to get in there and change. They’re probably waiting for me,” you sighed as he dropped his hands from your face, letting you take a step back.

Before he let you go, he grabbed your wrist and pulled you into his broad chest, sinking his lips down on yours as he held the back of your head and pressed deeper into you, your lips lingering over his for a minute. You didn’t want to pull away, you never wanted to pull away. This was where you wanted to be. In his grasp, on his lips, wherever he was you wanted to go. Your safe space, your home.

You slowly pulled away and grazed your fingers through his scruff, catching a patch of grey before you dropped your fingers and headed toward the glass doors. “I’ll see you later,” you said faintly as you walked towards the entryway, back to hell as you called it lately.

“Knock ‘em dead, sunshine. I’ll be around if you need me.”

You took one more look at him before you disappeared behind big glass doors, away from his warm embrace. You sucked in a breath and waltzed into the auditorium with your head held high and your dignity intact as you made your way to the dressing room. To your small space where you could think before you got sucked into the drama of it all again.

The auditorium was cool, just like a gust of wind blew down your back and wrapped you in its cold claws that clamped down its jaws on you. You dragged your hand through the crimson velvet walls, feeling your way down the slope of the hardwood floors, planting yourself firmly down on the ground. Down to where you belong, down to where you have to be. You have to dance. You have to. But that was just what you had to do, not necessarily what you wanted to do.

You sighed as you made your way behind the draped stage curtains and ended up in your dressing room. The small room was filled with bright lights from the vanity that was left on. The pale pink wardrobe was sitting open exactly how you left it Friday, full of your sparkling costumes that you were meant to wear onstage.

The sleek black swan dress was staring at you, shrouding you with its black wings that called to you in a depraved, dark night song. The black threads twisted around your wrists, stuck you with its needles as it trapped you, succumbed you, doomed you. It called your name, screamed for you to cave in. Come to the dark, let me show you the way. This way, this way.

You peeled your eyes away and slammed the door shut, hearing the sound of it reverberate around the walls of the shallow room, drowning out the voices of the dark swan. You threw down your practice bag on the ground with a loud thump and tore off your too warm jacket. You were frustrated, torn, anxious from the room, anxious from the theater, anxious from the show. But the show must go on. It had to go on. With you.

You looked at yourself in the mirror, staring back at your reflection as swimming eyes came into focus. Your eyeliner was dark, eyeshadow shimmering black against your eyelids as the dark red lipstick stuck matted to your lips. You looked the part of the black swan, felt like her, too. She was a part of you now, even if you didn’t like it.

You signed away your life as soon as you scribbled your name on that contract. You sold your soul to the devil in dark red letters, sealing your fate to the hands of the show. You couldn’t escape, there was no escape. Not unless you wanted to deal with the consequences. Contracts were binding, there was no breaking them. Not unless you wanted to end your career as soon as it finally took off. There was no leaving this show. Not until it was done. Finished.

So you decided to put on a brave face. You held your chin high and tucked away any tears that tried to escape your red blurry eyes. It was time to get ready to dance. You could do this. You could do this. You pulled on your pointe shoes and laced the pink ribbons up nicely around your ankles, tying neat bows around your sheer tights. You smoothed out your rosy pink skirt and pulled up the black leotard that clung to your body like a suction cup. Time to dance. Time to dance. You took one more long look in the wide mirror and left the room, leaving your hollow thoughts in the empty tomb.

When you stepped out into the bright lights of the stage, Carlotta clapped her hands and shouted across the auditorium as her voice echoed around the theater. “Alright, let’s go! Black swan, you’re up. Take it from Act II,” she commanded as she took a seat and crossed her skinny arms across her bright red suit of the day.

You nodded and got into place. Deep breath, breathe. Joel’s calming voice entered your mind, and you relaxed against it, against his reminder. Breathe.

When the orchestra music blasted out of the speakers, you started the routine with your head held high and your arms graceful like a swan. You turned on your toes, leapt across the stage into an arabesque and focused on your movements. You made them sharp, clean, perfected your footwork as the routine went on. You were alone for this dance, one of your solo routines. You were fine alone, you weren’t caving inside when you didn’t have to dance with Pierre. This was fine, you were fine. That is until you saw him out of the corner of your eye.

You saw his sharp jaw, his icy glare, his slicked back locks of blonde, his chin jutting out as he watched you. It felt like a lion watching a gazelle. Ready to pounce, ready to attack. You could feel the weight of his gaze on you, feel the hunger that stirred in his chest, feel his drool leave his mouth as he watched you, hungered after you. And it made you sick to death.

You ended the routine with your chin held high and lips pursed together in a tight line, your arms stretched thin like they’d break off if you extended them anymore than they already were. You were on edge then, on a tight thin wire that was bound to snap if you made one wrong step.

“Good, beautifully done,” she said as she waved her hand around her face frantically. You sighed and relaxed your back as you stepped out of fifth position. “I’m going to have the other dancers run through their routines. After that, we’ll circle back and you’ll perform your duet with Pierre.”

Your jaw clenched as you fisted your fingers tightly against your flexed tendons. Your toes curled in on themselves as much as they could, and it felt like your leotard was squeezing your ribs, threatening to break into nothing but dust as your bones snapped in half. You didn’t realize you were standing there, staring wide-eyed until Carlotta snapped your name.

“Well, go on. Don’t just stand there, we have a schedule to follow!” she snapped. You nodded your head and flew off the stage, away from Pierre’s prying eyes.

You found an empty wooden bench backstage and sat down, pressing your fingers into the pit of your thighs as a way to calm yourself down. You’re fine, breathe. You’re okay. You took a deep breath and focused your mind on Joel. Joel, Joel, Joel. Your sweet redemption, your saving grace.

You closed your eyes for a couple of minutes until the harsh sound of laughter came across the back of the stage, at the bench opposite of you. You opened your eyes slowly and dug your nail beds into the tips of your knees, trying not to lose your focus. Breathe, breathe.

Pierre sat there with three of the ballet dancers crowded around him. All three women fawning over him and caressing his lengthy shoulders, flirting their way around him as they giggled and twirled their flyaways around their index finger. The sight made you sick. You knew damn well he had all three of them in his bed not long ago. He bragged about it, boasted about how proud he was to be such a stud. All you could do was roll your eyes and bite your tongue from all the things you wanted to say. He was such an asshole.

Cecilia sat next to him, hand lingering on his thigh as she whispered in his ear seductively. Her gaze straggling over to you occasionally as her bright green eyes narrowed over at you like a cat trying to claw her way into a fight. Her bleach blonde hair was held up in a tight bun, her pink lipgloss shining over her twisted mouth. Her skirts were always too short, her cleavage sticking out of her leotards. The fakest slut you’d ever seen before.

You hated her, truly hated her. She was nothing but trouble, always seeking out drama. And she tried so hard to press your nerves, tried to draw blood from you every time she opened her big mouth. But you never caved in, never reacted to her. That’s what she wanted, and you wouldn’t have any part of it.

Pierre whispered something in her ear, his hand reaching out and pulling her ear closer like he had a nasty secret to tell. She covered her mouth, and her eyes went wide. She whispered back to him and he nodded, icy eyes glazing over at you like you were caught in a trap of lies. They both looked at you, mouths pursing in snickers as their eyes narrowed. You couldn’t take it anymore, couldn’t stand it. Something snapped in you and hard.

“If you have something to say just say it to my face!” you hissed, eyes narrowing as your hands balled into fists beside your thighs. You’d had enough. Enough was enough.

Cecilia just smiled her fake smile and smirked at you. She was brewing something up under those fake eyelashes she had plastered to her eyes. You just knew it. She was always stirring up trouble. “Oh, I was just asking Pierre about your… what was he again? Maintenance man, I guess?” she snared her teeth at you and smirked, eyes locking on yours.

“He’s no concern of yours, Cecilia. Drop it,” you snapped, your teeth bared at her pathetic smile.

“Drop it? What for? You didn’t give us any juicy details. What’s he like, huh? When he fucks you…”

You pushed yourself off the bench and snarled at her, silencing her before she could finish her sentence. “Shut up! Just stop!” you screamed, face hot as you could feel your face become red and agitated underneath your building anger. Calm down, just calm down.

“Why don’t you make me, huh? Come on now, don’t be shy. Let me have it,” she egged on, trying to coax some violence out of you. That’s what she wanted, that’s what she always wanted. She wanted you out of the show so she could take your place. She could try all she wanted, but you wouldn’t dare let her have it. Not that conniving bitch. Not a chance.

You just stood in place, feet locked to the floor as your chest heaved against you, a thunder storm brewing inside your racing heart. She’s not worth it, she’s not worth it. You bit your tongue and held back what you really wanted to say. It wasn’t worth the risk, not at all.

She scoffed and rolled her eyes. “Didn’t think you had it in you, little swan,” she mocked as Pierre and her shared a laugh, cackling to each other in pure joy. It made you sick. They made you sick.

Pierre whispered something in her ear, and her eyes went wide in delight. She pursed her lips and giggled, nodding her head as she stared at you in victorious glee. They were planning something scandalous. You just knew by the way they were whispering and stealing glances at you.

You gulped as a sharp tug pulled at your insides. The way she was looking all mischievous and snarky had your vocal cords all tied up and scratchy. You knew she was up to no good, you knew. So when she snuck off the back of the stage and made her way to the front of the auditorium doors, you silently followed behind. Watching, waiting, wondering what the hell she was up to.

She went through the doors, and you watched them close with a bang. Slowly but carefully you opened the door seconds later, sliding around a hidden corner and peeking your head out of the shadows. When you caught sight of her, your heart stopped dead in your chest. Your pupils blew out as your head started spinning. She was walking up to Joel, sauntering up to him in a flirtatious way as she swayed her curvy hips from side to side, hiking her skirt up even more so her ass hung out of her tiny leotard.

She wouldn’t fucking dare. But she would, she would. Joel. Would Joel entertain her? Surely not. He wouldn’t… right?

You couldn’t move, couldn’t speak as your legs shook like melted jello underneath you. Your anxiety started racing, the loud ringing vibrating through your ear canals. Not now, not now! You shook your head and pulled your focus back to the empty foyer. The only two people standing there made the room feel smaller, made it feel like the walls were caving in around you. And you felt like you’d be crushed to nothing at any second.

You gripped the wall and tried not to black out from the room that was spinning. You couldn’t. Not yet. You had to see this. You had to be sure he wouldn’t betray you like that. He couldn’t, he wouldn’t. You knew him so well, probably better than anyone else now. He wouldn’t do that to you. He wouldn’t.

She cleared her throat and smiled sweetly at Joel as he was bent over, scaling the wall, looking intently at something he was fixing. His eyes shot up at her muffled breath and he slowly stood, his eyes furrowing together into question.

“Can I help you?” he asked in a confused tone, his eyes never straying down her body.

“You sure can,” she purred as she bit the end of her lower lip seductively, staring at him with big flirtatious eyes. You’d like to walk up to her and strangle her right about now. But you waited. You needed to see what he’d do. You just had to.

“Ummm, okay? Is somethin’ broken in the auditorium?” he asked as he scratched his head, his tone serious and face stonelike.

She shook her head. “No, nothing’s broken,” she giggled, twirling a loose curl around her index finger as she stuck out of her hip, jutting her breasts out more.

That fucking bitch. Your tongue tasted like pure venom, full of spite and fluid that ripped at your insides. You wanted to pull her to the ground and claw her eyes out. You hated her, you hated her.

“Then why are you talkin’ to me?” he asked with an irritated tone in his voice. He wasn’t playing her sick, twisted game. He was starting to catch on.

“You see, I’ve got these really tight hips and I would love to get them stretched out,” she purred, reaching out her long, spindly fingers to him. He stepped back out of her reach appalled.

“Sounds like a you problem. Should probably get that fixed yourself,” he spat, clenching his jaw as you saw irritation flash through his dark eyes.

“Come on. I know you want to. Help a girl out? Promise I’ll make it worth your while,” she giggled, grazing her hand against his forearm, right where the bundled veins gathered around his tan skin, lapping over his massive hands. The sight made you sick. You felt like you were about to spill your guts and vomit right on the polished floor. No, no, no.

He pulled out of her grasp and glared daggers into her eyes. “Don’t touch me,” he barked, moving his arm out of her reach. “Back off. Now leave. I have work to do.” He started to turn away, but she made a move again. Reaching out her dirty paws, she tried her luck again.

“Oh, come onnnnn. I mean. You’re kinda hot. Think you’d wanna…”

“Cecilia!” Your voice came out sharp, clipped, like a galant sword about to take her down. You stepped out of the shadows and stomped her way, moving in between the two of them so you could glare knives into her glowing eyes. “Don’t,” you warned, narrowing your eyes so tight that you could barely see her flashy smile that was beaming your way.

“Oh, don’t take it so hard, little swan,” she teased, smirking your way. “I was only having a little fun.” She crossed her arms and taunted you, her green eyes searing into your vision.

“Having fun?” you laughed, hatred clear in your tone. “You knew what you were doing. You fucking knew,” you snapped. It’s like your temper cracked in half and all your built up anger rose to your throat. It burned like fire, and you wanted to spit it back out at her and watch it burn her alive.

“Maybe I did know. Just wanted to see what would happen is all,” she sneered, her smirk returning in full force as she challenged you with her fake press-on pink nails and her balmy lip gloss that you wanted to wipe right off her face.

The more she stared and the more she smirked, the more heated you got. You were snarling with wide eyes and bared teeth. She gave you that mischievous smile and that was it. You were going to fucking kill her.

You jumped out at her with full force and let a loud roar rip through your chest as you let all your built up frustration let loose. She stepped back out of your reach, and Joel grabbed you around the waist before you could get to her. You tried to pull out of his tight hold, but his grasp was too strong. You weren’t going anywhere. He pulled you against his broad chest and tried to soothe you over.

“Hey, hey, hey, calm down. That’s what she wants. She wants to get a reaction out of you. She wants you to lash out at her,” Joel urged with a loud, gravely voice. His biceps pulled tight around you as he clung to you, making sure you didn’t do something you’d regret later. You tried once more to free yourself, but you gave up. He was right. This is what she wanted. She wanted to get you kicked out of the ballet. She wanted to ruin your life. And you wouldn’t let that happen.

“Cecilia, if you ever try anything like that again I’ll…”

She cut you off as she held up her fresh manicured hand, dusting it off on her black leotard as she smirked again. “You’ll do what? Go cry to Carlotta about it? Like she’ll do anything. The old hag can barely keep track of all her dancers,” she laughed out, a sinister smile spreading across her plump lips.

“Get the fuck out of here,” Joel growled, arms still pressed against your ribcage as he held you in place, your heart beating wildly against his forearm.

“No, I don’t think so,” she glared, her lips pressed in a tight line as if she were challenging you all over again. You’d had enough of her. You wanted her gone, now.

“Just leave me alone!” you shouted, tears licking at the backs of your eyes as you felt the frustration breaking inside you.

“No,” she said sharply, her pointe shoe stomping down as if to stand her ground. She was pathetic, a royal pain in your ass.

“Did you not hear what I said? I said get the fuck out of here. Now!” Joel barked, his eyes growing cold and sharp as he stared at her, demanding her to leave.

“No, I-”

Joel’s icy words shut her up quick. “If you don’t go back into that auditorium now and leave her alone, then I’m gonna have words with your instructor. You see, you kept pursuing me when I said to back off. You put your hands on me when I specifically told you no. That can be passed as sexual harassment. Do you really want me to go in there and lay out exactly what happened for Carlotta?”

Your eyes grew wide at what he was insinuating. That’d get her kicked out of the show. Unless Carlotta didn’t believe him or care. She probably wouldn’t care, but still. Oh my God.

Her scowl grew a mile long on her face as her green eyes became red and enraged. “You wouldn’t dare. You don’t have proof. You don’t have-”

“I have proof enough and I have a witness,” he said with bared teeth. She just crossed her arms over her chest and stared wide-eyed. “So I suggest you turn around and walk back through those doors and never try to mess with my girl or me again,” he growled possessively, his deep voice like knives as they cut into her.

She just scoffed and rolled her eyes. “Fine. Whatever. What makes her so fucking special though, huh?” she asked as she jutted her chin out and dragged her tongue across her top teeth.

“Everything,” he answered, his voice coming out not as harsh that time, but it was aggressive, unhesitant.

Everything? Oh. Your eyes went wide and your muscles relaxed against his hold. He thought everything was special about you? Oh. Oh my…

“Whatever. I’m out of here,” she spat as she turned around and walked back through the auditorium doors, watching them snap shut with a bang behind her.

You stood there for a minute, staring at the unmoving heavy door as it stood closed before you, waiting for your breath to catch again. Joel turned you around to face him and dropped his tight hold on you. “What the fuck was that all about? I mean, Christ. First Pierre, now her?” he asked with wild eyes, his hands digging into the pockets of his dark jeans as he sighed and shook his head.

“She likes to get a rise out of me. Pierre pushed her to do it. I saw them whispering in each other’s ears and stared at me the entire time. I just didn’t know what they were planning. I didn’t know they were going to bring you into the middle of all this,” you sputtered out as you threw your hands in the air and slapped them back down against your thighs as the clap sounded through the empty foyer with high ceilings and sky high windows as the sun beamed through them.

“She’s jus’ jealous of you, sweetheart. Seems like she wants to take everything that’s yours just because she can’t have it,” he acknowledged with bared teeth, his caramel eyes swirling with anger as he talked about her.

“Sounds about right,” you muttered, eyes focusing on the shiny white tile.

“Is everyone here just batshit crazy? Why can’t they jus’ leave you alone?” he snarled as his eyebrows furrowed, pushing back the locks of his tousled curls.

“Because that’d be too easy,” you said clipped, clenching your jaw around nothing.

“I’m gonna go in there right now and give them a piece of my mind,” he spat as he tried to push past you, but you got in front of him and held a hand to his broad chest to stop him.

“No, don’t. It’s fine. You’ve done enough. I’m the reason why you’re in the middle of all of this. Me. I don’t want you to be dragged into anymore drama. I already feel bad enough.” Your eyes locked on his as he held your stare and placed a hand gently down on yours that was still locked on his chest.

“Don’t feel bad, sweetheart. This wasn’t any of your doing. It was theirs,” he growled, flicking his eyes harshly to the closed auditorium doors as he looked back at you with softer features. “Let me take care of this.”

Let me take care of this. He always took care of you, always. You couldn’t let him take on anymore of the theater shit. It was on your shoulders, not his. And right now you felt like nothing but a massive burden that was weighing him down.

You froze in the spot you stood in and widened your eyes at the realization. Burden. You were being a burden to Joel. You didn’t want that. You didn’t fucking want to be a burden to anyone, especially not him. He was too good for you, he always took care of things. So when was it your turn to take those burdens from him? When was it time to stop piling problems on him that were all made from a company that was supposed to be your dream job?!

“No,” you stated harshly. He looked down at you and knit his eyebrows together, giving you those concerned molasses honey eyes that made you weak at the knees. Not those eyes. God, anything but those eyes. “Just, don’t do that.”

“Why not?” he asked as he guided his other hand down to your wrist, stroking his calloused thumb against the edge of your skin as he tried to soothe you over.

“Because…because…” You paused a moment and then whispered under your breath. “I’m a burden.”

“What did you say?” he asked with a shocked expression, eyes wide at what he thought you said.

“I’m being a burden, Joel,” you said louder, your voice echoing across the empty foyer walls and vibrating back to you as you looked at the polished floor, your eyes fading just a little.

“Hey, look at me.” He grabbed your chin and pulled your eyes up to his. His breathing came out more ragged and concentrated as he stared at you, brown eyes searing into yours. “Don’t you dare ever call yourself a burden again. You’re not one at all.”

You shook your head no, so he put his massive hands on your shoulders and focused right on you, never leaving your eyes. “Hey, c’mon. Talk to me. Tell me what you’re thinkin’,” he said more gently, one hand coming to cup your cheek as tears threatened to spill at any second.

You could feel the anxiety bubbling up inside you, could feel your insides screaming at you as they taunted you. Burden, burden, burden. That’s all you’ll ever be to him. You shook your head of the thoughts, but they kept coming, attacking unseen as they picked apart your mind. You’re no good for him. You’re a burden, you’re drama, you’re fragile. He doesn’t want that, he doesn’t need that.

You felt yourself start to tear apart piece by little piece. Every scrap of skin felt on fire as the voices of anxiety screamed at you. You couldn’t do this right now. You needed to get out of here. You needed to be alone, you needed to run.

You pulled away slowly from Joel, but he caught your wrist and found your glassy eyes as they stared past him, trying not to think of him because you were about to lose it. “Hey, sunshine. Baby,” he reached out and skimmed your jawline with the edge of his fingers. It felt like fire that just burned your skin raw. You couldn’t do this right now. You just couldn’t.

“Don’t,” you said quietly as you pulled again. His grip didn’t budge. He kept you locked to his hand.

“Don’t what? Talk to me. Please, baby. Let me in,” he pleaded as his eyes glazed over into pools of sadness.

Oh God, why did you have to see that.

“Please, Joel. Just let me go,” you begged, tears licking at your waterline as his face became a bit blurry.

“No. I’m not gonna let you go. Just talk to me,” he pressed, eyes searching yours for anything he could pick up on.

“I just, I…” You lost your words as the guilt started eating you alive. Burden, burden, burden. Your chest became tight, and it felt like you were being suffocated inside your tight leotard. The room felt like it was spinning as your eyesight went in and out, black vision to normal vision. It was awful how you were feeling. You were feeling everything at once and you were overstimulated and it was just too much. It was too much.

“Baby, please,” he begged. And when you looked back up at him it hit you like a thick brick wall. His watering eyes shot a hole right into the center of your chest. You could physically feel the pain throbbing around you as he looked at you with those longing, searching eyes. He looked so sad. So sad.

“Joel…I…” you pulled your hand from his, slowly. So painfully slow. And he let you this time. He didn’t try to stop you. When you grazed your fingers against his fingertips and finally dropped your hand from his warmth, the room went ice cold. And it felt like you lost him right then and there.

You bit your tongue and pulled yourself together just enough to walk towards the auditorium door, every step further from Joel feeling like straight glass cutting through your feet. It was painful, excruciating. But you needed to be alone. You needed to breathe. But it felt like you were drowning without his touch, suffocating on your own words as your mouth filled with water and took you down. The voices in your head were too loud, too much. You needed silence, you needed peace.

You put your hand on the cold metal handle, and before you went through the door Joel said your name slowly, a mere gentle whisper. And it sounded like a voice that was full of pain and suffering. You bit your bottom lip and worked up enough courage to look him in the eyes again. It was a mistake. God, it was a mistake. His jaw was clenched and his hands were in fists at his side, and his brown eyes looked like big puppy dog eyes. Staring at its owner as they left him all alone in an empty house, solely alone.

You felt a wet tear fall against your cheek and quickly wiped it off. Joel took a step forward when he saw you brush a tear away, but you held out a hand and stopped him. “Please, Joel. Just leave me alone. I need to…I need to go back in…”

“Stay,” he pleaded, a hushed whisper that glided across the room and brushed against the tip of your ear.

“I can’t…I have to go. Just, please. I…I need some air.” Before you looked back at him, you pushed the door open and ran through the shadows to your tiny dressing room, brushing up against the velvet walls as you nearly tripped up the stage steps and zoomed past all the dancers. When you reached your dressing room, you grabbed up your iPhone and sprinted out the side theater door.

You crashed through the metal door and flung yourself against the cold brick wall as you slowly melted into the ground, bringing the phone up to your face to unlock it. You quickly found your mom’s name in your contacts and pushed call. You needed to hear her soothing voice now. You needed your mom. You needed to know everything was going to be fine. But it wasn’t. It simply wasn’t.

You slumped your head against the hard bricks and listened to the dial tone as it repeatedly rang. Come on, pick up. Please, pick up. You needed familiarity, you needed comfort, you needed your mom.

On the seventh ring, she finally picked up and you blew out the breath you had been holding in. “Hi, sweetheart! It’s so good to hear from you. I wasn’t expecting you to call so early in the day. What’s up, sweetie? How is everything in New York? Are you having such an incredible time?” she asked excitedly as her high pitched voice filled the end of the line.

No, no it wasn’t fine. Nothing was fine. “Hey, mom,” you said in a shaky breath. “Everything is…well, it’s…” Your voice cut off as you choked back a sob.

“Hun, what’s wrong? Are you okay?” she asked in a worried rush of words. You could hear that protective mother instinct kick in, and it still didn’t bring you any peace.

“I’m…” your voice broke as you choked out a gasp. “No, I’m not okay,” you balled, tears breaking as they streamed down your face in a blur. You wiped at your eyes and saw the mascara and eyeliner rub off on your hand, forgetting you even had makeup on. You didn’t care if your makeup was ruined, you didn’t care if eyeliner was streaked under your eyes. You were broken, so very broken.

You didn’t get into the thick of it, but you told her enough. You told her what was bothering you and what was happening. You didn’t mention Joel, not once saying you met someone. The mere thought of him made you cry harder, and it felt like your heart actually shattered into a million pieces. Joel…

“Mom, I want to come home,” you cried into the phone speaker, tears sticking to your thick eyelashes as your vision was completely blurred over. You could hear her on the end of the line saying your name and calling you honey as she tried to calm you down. But it didn’t help. Nothing helped.

You stayed on the line with her for ten minutes and then decided it was time to hang up. You had to go back in. Carlotta would be looking for you right about now. So you said your goodbyes to your mom, and she assured you she’d be in touch later to check on you. When you hung up the phone, you pulled your camera up and cringed at the mess that was displayed in the screen. Black streaks smeared under your eyes. You looked exactly like the black swan, felt like the black swan. You were the black swan. You felt it in your hollow bones. You were weak, fragile, consumed by darkness, and you felt completely isolated and alone right now.

You wiped the smeared makeup away and sucked in the last tears that stung your eyes. You pulled yourself up from the cold ground and headed back inside to your demise. Your cage that liked to trap lone swans.

“There you are! Come on now. You’re up. Take your position, black swan. It’s time for your duet with Pierre,” Carlotta yelled as she clapped her hands and pointed at you to take your position.

As you got into position, you looked up at Pierre on the opposite side of the stage as you and watched his cruel smirk flash your way. All you felt was hollow and bruised inside. You had no more emotions to run through today. You were finished, dead inside like a tree that had just been ripped from its roots. Automatically dying on the spot.

When the music began, you ran through the routine like a puppet attached to a short string. There was no fighting, no bickering, just silence. You had no more words to speak today. You were battered and bruised, and there could be nothing else done. Absolutely nothing. You just wanted to go back to your apartment and go to sleep. Sleep away the pain of the day.

You went through the rest of rehearsal quietly, just doing as you were told. You didn’t argue with anyone, didn’t flinch when they said jump higher or spin tighter. You just did it without a fuss. Just like a robot would.

You could feel Joel’s dark eyes burning holes through your skull throughout the rest of practice. You didn’t look up, didn’t seek out his eyes. You just ignored the call. That drawn out reaching call that you longed to take.

Joel. Joel. Joel.

You wanted him. You wanted him so goddamn bad, but the voices were screaming at you that you weren't good enough for him. They were taunting you and screeching at you through your racing mind. You’re no good for him, you’re just a burden. He doesn’t want to be with a burden, he doesn’t want to be weighed down by you. Let him go, let him go.

You tossed the voices out of your head and silenced your mind. You couldn’t tell what was real and what wasn’t right now. Not with the anxiety pumping. Not with the mess you had to deal with today. So when practice finally got over, you slipped out the back and didn't seek out Joel. You just walked to your apartment alone, back to your lonely walls. But you didn’t want to be there. Not really. You wanted to go home. You needed to go back home.

Home. It was the only place you wanted to be right now. And that was away from New York. Away from it all.

When you finally reached your apartment and barged through the door, you took a long, hot shower and let the scalding water run down your back until you couldn’t feel anything. Your thoughts were numb, but they kept returning to Joel.

Joel, Joel, Joel.

You wanted him, needed him, but you couldn’t reach out. You didn’t have the energy, nor the strength. So after your shower, you just tucked yourself into the warm bed and let the cotton sheets envelop your tired body. You heard your phone buzz over and over again, the vibrations reaching all the way into your tight chest. But you just let it ring as it sat face down on your little sky blue nightstand, waiting for the light hum of the phone to go mute.

After endless minutes of diminishing buzzing and missed calls, you faded off into a deep sleep. Away from the pain, away from the racing anxiety, away from the deep black hole you were stuck in. And when you dreamed, you dreamed of white sandy beaches and shiny clear ocean water. You dreamed of home. That’s where you wanted to be, needed to be. So that’s where you’d go.

Joel barely got a wink of sleep that night. He was either pacing mindlessly around his house, staring at a blank phone screen or worrying sick about you as his mind raced frantically. You didn’t pick up the phone, wouldn’t look at him, didn’t say a word when you left the theater. And now all he could think was you were slipping away from him, just like the moment you gradually pulled away from his fingers as you walked back into the auditorium without a mere glance back at him. That’s what it felt like. Complete loss, like he was missing pieces of his beating heart that had your name scraped into the pumping veins in his chest.

The next morning he waited for you outside the theater doors, but you didn’t come. He kept glancing at his black military watch, but you were half an hour late. You were never late, and that made worry seep into his thick skull. He dialed your number, but it just rang endlessly and finally went to voicemail.

He hung up the phone and shoved it into the front pocket of his jeans, pushing the doors open as he raced into the auditorium. Maybe you snuck in from the side doors, maybe you got there earlier than he did. He was just wishful thinking, but it was better than thinking the alternative, that you weren’t coming.

Carlotta sat at the front of the auditorium like she usually did, lounging in a plush crimson seat as she yelled at the other dancers. “Where is my swan?!” she screamed as she threw her arms over her head, shaking her auburn ponytail in annoyance. The sound of her voice made Joel shake in rage as he fisted his hands at his sides and almost broke a blood vessel as he walked up to her with a deep snarl cut across his mouth.

“Have any of you heard from her?” she yelled at the dancers, but none of them shook their head yes. “We don’t have time for this! Let me check my phone.” She pulled her phone out and searched through her notifications. Her face turned to shock as she put a hand dramatically against her forehead. “Sick?! She’s sick! We don’t have time for sick days,” she whined, letting out a deep sigh of unapproval. It made Joel even more angry.

He walked up to her aggressively as he stomped his boots and halted right in front of her, glaring at her with dark, unfriendly eyes. She jumped in fright and put her hand on her chest as her long red fingernails dug into her pressed white dress. “Oh, you scared me! I didn’t see you standing there. Where is she? Have you heard from her?” she demanded as her red lips pursed together in a tight seal.

“I know as much as you do. I haven’t heard from her since yesterday. You said she told you she’s sick?” Joel asked with a raised brow.

“That’s what I just read,” she huffed, throwing her phone back in her Coach purse. “I don’t care if she’s sick. She needs to be here,” she demanded, her heels stomping into the polished floor.

“Jesus Christ, give her a break! She’s completely worn out. She’s overworked. Do you know how stressed she’s been lately?” he vocalized with a raised voice and a deep growl in his chest.

“Overworked? Stressed? She looks fine to me,” she said as she rolled her eyes and shook her head with agitation.

“That’s because you don’t check to see how she’s feeling! Maybe if you paid more attention to your dancers then you’d see she’s fucking drowning!” he yelled with his voice bouncing off the walls. All the dancers stopped what they were doing and focused in on the heated conversation going on. He didn’t care. All he cared about was getting his point across. Carlotta would listen to him, whether she wanted to or not.

Her eyes were wide-eyed as she stared up at him, her cheeks flushed as her mouth gaped open in surprise. “What are you talking about? Of course I pay attention to my dancers.”

He crossed his arms across the button-up denim shirt and clenched his jaw before he lost control of his growing temper. “Oh, really? Then you know everyone is against her in this theater? That Pierre and Cecilia won’t leave her alone for one goddamn day? You know that she’s been so fuckin’ stressed and anxious that she’s had continuous breakdowns about even being here? Because no one seems to care how she’s feelin’ but me!” His voice echoed around the auditorium as his flared eyes shot daggers right back at her. Her mouth opened wide as she looked like someone just turned on a dusty lightbulb inside her nonchalant mind. And that was good because maybe now she’d realize just what she did to you.

“I suggest you start treating your lead dancer with more respect and not working her to death. You’re gonna destroy her before she even gets to opening night. And as for your dancers, tell them to fuckin’ stop giving her a hard time. Especially Pierre and Cecilia. If you even halfway listened to her instead of being stuck in your own thick head, you would’ve noticed all the shit they were doing to her! So next time, listen to her when she’s desperately trying to get your attention and do something about the situation!”

Her eyes went wide as something snapped into place inside her. Her eyebrows furrowed together as she looked at the stage and back at Joel. Maybe he finally got her to open her eyes and hear what you were trying to tell her all along. Maybe he struck a nerve that opened up that empty mind of hers. She didn’t turn around when he started walking to the auditorium doors, but he heard her call Pierre and Cecilia’s voice impatiently. He didn’t wait to hear what was said, he just kept on walking out of that toxic room, leaving behind more drama that was ready to unfold.

Joel was tempted to run to her apartment, pound on the door until you opened up so he could crash his body into yours. He wanted you to know it was going to be okay. He needed you to know you weren’t alone and never would be. He needed you to know how goddamn much he cared about you. He needed you to know you were now his world and that he’d never let you go. Never, ever. But he kept himself from running to you. He just kept his distance for today. You’d reach out if you really needed him. You needed space, time. But he didn’t want to give that to you. He was selfish and wanted you all to himself. He wanted to make it all better, to take away all the pain.

He sighed and ran a hand through his wind blown curls and took a deep breath, focusing on slowing down his racing heart. One day, just one more day and then he’d go to you. If you weren’t here in the morning, he’d go find you. And when he did, he would never let you go again.

You kept your phone turned over most of the day, only clicking it on to let Carlotta know you wouldn’t be in today, that you were sick. You weren’t really sick though. You just needed a mental break, to think about what you were going to do. You needed time, you needed to get away. You needed a quiet mind, but you were screaming on the inside. Trying to claw your way out of your racing thoughts as you sat in your small vacant apartment, picking apart your mind.

All the missed calls and texts from Joel didn’t help you one bit. Six missed calls and three text messages since yesterday.

Where are you?

Are you alright?

Sunshine, talk to me. Please, let me know you’re alright.

The last one made you shiver with guilt and made your eyes burn with tears.

Joel, Joel, Joel. Fuck!

You crawled your way out of bed and forced yourself to eat some yogurt and get dressed, throwing on some yoga pants and a teal colored Florida hoodie.

You dragged your tired legs into the bathroom and switched the light on, squinting your eyes at the harsh yellow light that lit the room up in warm colors. You cringed at your swollen eyes and puffy lips as you spent hours crying into your pillow the night before. You washed your face and brushed your teeth as you let the minty taste wash down your throat, trying to bring some life back into your aching body. You brushed out your thick hair and threw on some eyeliner to deter the look of your puffed up eyes.

You couldn’t stay caged in this cold room anymore. You needed to get out. You needed to free your internal thoughts before you went crazy. So you grabbed your keys and phone and headed out the door, taking in the fresh air as you slipped into the cool autumn breeze. You walked for miles it seemed, only to end up sitting at a little park that overlooked a duck pond as water lilies sat scattered across the shimmering water.

You let your mind wonder as you sat there, focusing on keeping deep breaths and your head cleared. You lost track of time and forgot your phone was even in your pocket. You pulled it out and looked at the time. 5:00 pm and no new calls or texts. Only the ones you left unanswered from earlier.

Joel’s messages popped up again, and you couldn’t quite shake the guilt of leaving him waiting. He was probably worried sick about you, probably going stir crazy as he paced his house or the theater. Probably looked all over for you today, hoping he’d see you that morning. The guilt ate at your stomach, twisting it around into a bundle of yarn as it tugged at you, pulling you back into anxious thoughts.

Sunshine, talk to me. Please, let me know you’re alright.

Sunshine, sunshine, sunshine.

You squeezed your eyes tight as the name pulled at your heartstrings, eliciting feelings out of you that you wanted to keep down. You were bad for him, a burden, a sickness that would only infect him. But that wasn’t really true. It was your anxiety lying to you. It was the sharp tongued serpent that fed you lies and shot venom into your bloodstream. It was a disease that festered in your mind until you could do nothing but listen to the poison that consumed your mind. But this time you wouldn’t. No. You wouldn’t listen. You’d force them out if it was the last thing you did.

Sunshine, come back. Come back…

You swear you could hear his southern drawl calling you, singing you a gentle tune as his sweet voice tried guiding you back to him. Back to his arms. Back to where you felt most at home. And the more you stared at his name in your phone, the more you wanted him. The more you needed him.

A tightness in your chest squeezed at your insides as you ached for him. Every bone carving his name into the tendons as you physically, truly ached for him. You longed for him, burned for him. And you needed him. You needed him more than you needed air to breathe. He was your oxygen, your fresh air, your everything. And you lo…

You loved him.

And that’s when you ran. You ran as fast as your legs could carry you. You didn’t know how far it was from here, didn’t even care how long it’d take. But you’d continue running until you got to his doorstep, wouldn’t stop till you were back in his arms where you belonged.

You crossed the busy intersection as a taxi slammed on its horn, nearly missing you by a few feet. You didn't stop to apologize, you just kept going. You brushed shoulders and ran into strangers on the crowded sidewalk. Some yelled back at you, some stopped and stared, but you kept pressing on, not wasting a second until you were standing on his doorstep with him.

Your lungs felt like they were on fire, and you could feel your legs going numb underneath you. But you wouldn’t stop, not till you made it back to him. Your tears licked at the back of your eyes as you thought of the way you left him yesterday, letting your anxious thoughts get the best of you. You had made a mistake, that’s not what you wanted. You wanted him and only him, and you just hoped you weren’t too late. You prayed he’d welcome you back with open arms. You needed him, you needed him.

Joel, Joel, Joel. Your other half, your guiding light, the one that set your soul on fire. It was Joel, it was always Joel. “I’m coming, Joel. I’m coming back to you,” you whispered into the cold air as your throat caught fire.

You rounded the corner and instantly saw Joel’s Chevy sitting parked up against the curb. He’s here, he’s here. You could feel him as much as you could feel your racing heartbeat against your ribcage. You sprinted over to his concrete steps out of breath and climbed them, grasping the railing tight as you knelt over and caught your breath. Your breaths were shallow and ragged and it felt like you had gotten the wind knocked out of your body.

You gripped the railing tightly and your knuckles turned white as you stared at the large door ahead of you with the frayed welcome mat covering the front step. Joel. You imagined him pacing the floor unevenly as he stared at his phone, waiting for you to call back. The thought of it nearly took you out as you stumbled toward the front door.

After finally catching your breath, you gulped down some invisible liquid courage and nodded. This was it. This was the moment that would put your anxious thoughts to bed. You were about to find out if he really thought you were a burden or not.

You slowly lifted your arm and knocked twice on the sturdy door, making sure the force was just enough to be loud and sharp. You heard some rustling around in the house, and it didn’t take him long before he was unlocking the door and pulling it open frantically as his form came into view.

His eyes went wide, and he let out the loudest sigh you’d ever heard come out of his mouth, like he was relieved to see you. But behind his eyes looked a whole lot like pain. Behind those beautiful honey colored eyes. He said your name slowly, the southern accent getting stuck on your syllables as his voice came out smooth and silky against your name. The sound alone was enough to bring tears to your eyes. And you felt them then. You felt the wave of tears lick the backs of your eyes as they swelled up to your waterline, threatening to break at any moment.

You gulped and stared up into those mesmerizing brown eyes, feeling your bottom lip quiver as you tried to say something, anything. But you were frozen in place, your anxious thoughts coursing through you like a rush of pure adrenaline. You left him, you left him. Your fault, your fault.

“Joel, I… I’m so… I’m s-sorry, I…” Your composure broke in two as you felt the hot tears run down your face, blurring your vision so you could barely see his slack jaw and watering eyes.

“Oh, sunshine. Baby. C’mere,” he drawled as he crashed against your body and pulled you into his broad chest, enveloping his arms strongly against your back as one hand went to cradle the back of your head. You snaked your arms around him and crushed your face to his chest, letting the hot tears wash over his button-up denim shirt.

You cried harder, sinking as far into him as you could, and he just held onto you tighter as he rested his chin on the top of your head. “Shhh it’s okay, baby. I’ve got you. I’ve got you,” he cooed, digging his fingers through your hair as he held you as tight as he could.

He picked you up bridal style and carried you to the couch safely. Your muffled sobs got strangled as you buried yourself in his chest, and he just pulled you closer when he sat back against the velvet cushions. “S’alright now, you’re safe,” he soothed as he ran a hand through your locks, feeling a blanket of comfort cover you as he held you tightly in his arms.

You wiped hot tears from your eyes off on your hoodie and looked up at Joel with a quivering lip as you spoke slowly. “I… I’m sorry I didn’t call and that I ran out. I was just so… I was being a burden and…”

“Shhhh,” he whispered as he cupped your chin and wiped a falling tear away with the pad of his thumb, bringing it down your jaw as he trailed it slowly. “It’s okay, sweetheart. Ya don’t have to apologize. S’alright. And you’re not a burden. Not at all,” he said as he shook his head lightly, his eyes gazing down at yours with a look of serenity washing over you slowly.

“That’s how I feel though. Like I’m just a problem and…”

He put his index finger up against your faded chapstick and silenced you from finishing your sentence. “You’re not a problem, sweetheart. You were never the problem. Trust me when I say you’re not a burden. You’re so much more than that. So much,” he said gently as he grazed the tip of his finger against your bottom lip, pulling his eyes down to your lips as he contemplated his options. He looked back up into your eyes and smiled gently, letting his other hand graze your back as he soothed you, pulling you into that calm place that you wanted to be in again.

“You’re… you’re so good to me, Joel. I… I don’t deserve you,” you blubbered with tears stinging at the backs of your eyes, your vision going blurry again.

“No. It’s you I don’t deserve. You’re such an angel, my sweet girl,” he murmured with a soft kiss as he pressed his lips to your forehead and pulled you back into his chest, running his thick fingers down your hair and your back as you melted into his touch.

Joel. Joel. Joel. He was the one, he was the one.

He cradled you on his lap for a few minutes as he just held you, soothing you gently as he placed gentle kisses to the top of your head and ran his calloused fingers up and down your arms. It was like a piece of heaven that was made just for you.

You started shivering against him as the cold from outside returned in full force. You could feel it down to your bones as the adrenaline finally tapered off. Joel noticed immediately and reacted just like you knew he would.

“Hey, you alright? You’re shaking so much. You cold, sweetheart?” he asked with concern expanding across his honey eyes.

“Yeah, I guess I stayed out a lot longer than I thought. Didn’t realize how cold it was,” you said, shaking in his arms.

“Well, c’mon. Let’s get you in the tub. I’ll put on some warm water for you.” He moved you gently out of his lap and pulled you up with him, leading you into the lit up bathroom as the smell of lavender and bath soap filled the air.

He grabbed some fresh towels and placed a pile of clean clothes against the edge of the counter. Wasting no time, he started filling the large jetted tub with warm water as you heard the water rush to life from the pipes. He placed his hand in every few seconds to test the water temperature, and when it was to his liking he nodded.

“Alright, sunshine. Water’s all ready for ya. I’ll get out of your hair so you can relax a little.”

Before he passed you by, you reached out and grabbed his wrist, stopping him from moving any further. “Will you stay with me?” you asked quietly, not wanting him to leave you alone.

He slowly turned and looked at you with gentle eyes, his tan skin beaming against the fluorescent bathroom lights. “‘Course, sweetheart. Whatever you need,” he nodded, gently smiling down at you.

You quickly got undressed, throwing your clothes in a pile beneath the sink as you slipped into the tub, letting the hot water soothe your aching bones as you sat down into the steaming water.

Joel kept his distance, training his eyes on you as he watched you grab the plush washcloth and soak it under the water, grabbing the soap bar from the edge of the tub. Your eyes kept flicking up to his as he watched you while he leaned up against the sink, crossing his arms over his chest, breathing slowly as he kept his focus on you.

There was something in the way he was looking at you. Just a small tug in your chest that told you he really cared about you, that he wanted you to be okay. He was there to make sure you had everything you needed. But one thing was missing and that was him being in the tub with you.

You fluttered your eyelashes up at him as you shifted in the tub, feeling the warm water splash around your breasts. “Joel?” you asked shakily.

“Hmm?”

“Do you… will you come take a bath with me?” you asked nervously as you tugged a loose lock behind your ear as your eyes shot up to meet his.

His face relaxed into a small smile as he pulled off his watch and took a couple steps your way. “‘Course I will, baby. Scoot up for me.” He pulled his button-up off quickly. His jeans and briefs following next as he climbed into the tub behind you, pulling you close to his broad chest as he circled his arms around you and reached for your washcloth, lathering soap onto the damp material.

You relaxed into him as he washed your back gently, dragging the material over the length of you as you groaned at the feeling of his calloused hands and light touch all over you. You did the same for him, gliding the soapy washcloth over the wingspan of his back, pulling it down his muscled chest as you grazed your lips over his, sealing the distance as you climbed into his lap and let your body sink against him.

He held you close as his hand ran up and down your back in slow circles, placing tender kisses against your lips, your jawline, your neck. He was being so gentle with you, so soft, so… loving.

There was that word again. Love. God, you loved him. You loved him so painfully much. You could feel it in the room, feel it in the air, feel it on his breath as it crashed against yours when your lips slotted against his. You could feel it in his hands, feel it on the tip of his tongue, taste it in your mouth. It was like floating in air with a warm, gentle breeze blowing through your hair in the middle of a summer day. It was like fire. Hot, burning, passionate as it simmered through your body, unfaltering and never burning out. And you could feel it coming off him as well, that hot fire that was calling your name.

“Joel?” you asked quietly as you trailed your fingers through his patchy scruff, feeling your heart hammering against your chest as the blood rushed through your veins.

“Yeah?” he asked as he looked down into your face, those big doe eyes gazing back at you as the breath was taken from you. He was so beautiful, so devastatingly beautiful.

“I love you…” you whispered, hearing your voice echo around the room as he let out a gentle sigh, his eyes melting into syrup as he looked at you with pure love in his eyes. You’d never seen him look at you like that before. His face in pure bliss and contentment as he ran his calloused fingers against your jawline.

“Oh, sunshine. My sweet girl. I’ve loved you since the first day I met you,” he breathed out, his face beaming as he smiled down at you and let a soft chuckle out. “They always say a man knows when he’s found the one. I just had this feeling in the pit of my stomach. This aching feeling that pulled me toward you. And I’m so glad I listened to my gut because it was right. I knew all along.”

You choked back tears and looked up at him with the most sincere gaze you had ever given anyone before. This was real, this was really happening. He loved you, he loved you. You wrapped your arms around his neck and crashed your lips against his as you melted into him. The kiss was slow, soft, romantic. A kiss that was screaming love as it poured out of you and enveloped all of him. This was it. You were in love, and he loved you too. So, so much.

After the bath and your love confessions, he wrapped you in a warm towel and helped you dry off, getting all the beads of dripping water off your body. You pulled on one of his long red flannel shirts and crawled into his soft bed where he gathered you against his chest and brought the fleece blanket over the both of you. You slowly trailed your fingers over his bare chest, and he ran his fingers up and down your arm, showering you with warmth and tenderness. It was perfect, he was perfect.

“You know I was really worried about you today, sunshine,” he murmured, his voice coming off low. “When you didn’t show up to the theater and when you didn’t answer your phone. I thought something bad happened.” His grip on you tightened, and you could feel his chest sigh heavily as he continued stroking your arm.

“I’m sorry I worried you. I just couldn’t get myself to do anything or talk to anyone. My anxiety was screaming so loud that I couldn’t even hear my own thoughts in my head. All I know is how bad I wanted to run to you. And l’ll never stop apologizing for disappearing without a word. I wanted you so bad, Joel. So bad. I just… I just freaked out. I had a panic attack and…”

“Shhhh. S’okay, sweetheart. It’s all okay now. You’re safe and that’s all that matters.” He brushed his lips against the top of your head and entwined his fingers into yours as you closed your eyes and sank against his chest.

It was quiet for a few minutes until you spoke again. “I’m gonna go home this weekend. Just for a couple days. I called my mom yesterday and told her everything, and she bought me a plane ticket right after. Thought it was a good idea to get out of New York so I could clear my head.”

Joel shifted underneath you, and you looked up at him and saw a small smile spread across his beautiful face. “I think that’s a great idea, and it’ll be really good for you. I can drop ya off at the airport if you’d like,” he said as he trailed his fingers through your hair gently.

“I’d like nothing more,” you smiled. He returned it right back to you. “I wish I could take you with me,” you sighed.

He trailed the pad of his thumb against the backside of your hand and chuckled under his breath. “Maybe next time.”

You squeezed his hand and wrapped your other arm around his forearm as you pulled it toward you. “I’m definitely taking you next time,” you promised.

“I can’t wait.” His smile made his eyes crinkle, and it made your heart beat that much more for him.

“You know, I gave Carlotta a mouthful today,” he said with a clenched jaw as his voice came out gravely.

You lifted your head up and looked him in the eyes as you gulped down the lump in your throat. “You did?”

“Mhm. Think I knocked some sense into that oblivious brain of hers. Before I walked out of the auditorium, she was calling over those two fuckers,” he said with rage building in his throat.

“Oh,” was all you could say before you rested your head back against his chest as you tried to not let your mind wonder to Pierre and Cecilia. He must’ve felt the shift in your mood because he reached out and called your name softly.

“You know, there’s cameras set up in the auditorium. I know the security guy that runs them. I think I could get him to make me a copy of Pierre when he…” He gulped down some anger, and you could feel the growl audibly deep in his chest. “When he hit you and pushed you down,” he said with hatred in his voice. “If I can get my hands on that video, I’m gonna turn him in. Give Carlotta the real proof she needs to get rid of him.”

You gasped as you looked up at him with wide eyes, staring unbelievably at him at the words that just came from his mouth. “You think it’ll work? You think she’d actually kick him out?” you asked with shock falling from your lips.

“Maybe. It’s worth a shot, so I’m gonna try my best. Because if you choose to stay there for the next two months, I don’t want you suffering every day you’re there. I don’t wanna see the life taken from those pretty eyes of yours. I wanna see them shine, just like you always do. You shine as bright as Sirius does in the sky. Maybe even brighter than that star. You’re one of a kind, angel. And I want to see you sparkling.”

“Joel…” you whispered out, the look of love plastered all over your face. “You’re so… perfect. No one’s ever cared like you do…” You let your voice trail off, caught in a daze between love and complete bliss.

“And I’m gonna keep takin’ care of ya, sunshine. My perfect girl. My love.” He cupped your chin and brought his lips down on yours slowly as you sank into him, crawling on top of him so you could brush your fingers through his tousled curls.

He pulled back and smiled down at you. “Not even the galaxies in the sky could shine as bright as you, baby. You’re one of a kind. And I love you. I love you.”

You got lost in his words, in him. And the rest of the night was history as you both got completely wrapped up in the other. I love you’s passed back and forth the whole night until you finally passed out in his strong arms. Right where you belonged. Right where your heart beat for him the most.

Tags: @burntheedges @tuquoquebrute @joelalorian @dugiioh @akah565 @amyispxnk @itsokbbygrl-library @blueseastorm @pedrostories

[steddieas-shegoes]

Chapter 10

Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6 / Chapter 7 / Chapter 8 / Chapter 9

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

There wasn’t much Steve was sure of.

His parents disappointing him was on the list though.

Eddie didn’t make him talk on the way to his house, he didn’t make him talk as they ate their reheated pizza, and he didn’t make him talk while they put leftovers away and cleaned their dishes.

But when Eddie pulled him towards his bathroom with the intent to shower together, he brought it up.

“You know why I like taking long showers at the end of the day?”

“Why?”

“Because it’s a chance to wash away the bad parts of the day. Sometimes I even say them out loud so they aren’t stuck inside anymore.”

“You’re starting to sound like a guidance counselor,” Steve said, a small smile on his face despite the fact that he knew Eddie would expect him to talk about what happened earlier.

“I think you’re rubbing off on me,” Eddie teased.

“I wish I was,” Steve teased back, throwing an exaggerated wink his way.

Eddie let out a loud laugh, his hands finding Steve’s waist naturally as his eyes closed and he leaned his head back.

“Wanna talk in the shower?”

“I don’t really want to, but I know you’re gonna make me,” Steve sighed.

“Hey,” Eddie squeezed his sides, making him focus. “You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to. But I know it will help if you do, and I want you to know you can. Anything you need, sunshine.”

Steve knew that, in theory. But he still couldn’t be certain that Eddie wouldn’t run the moment he was too honest. And that’s what this would require.

“I want to tell you, I do,” Steve started. “I just don’t know where to begin or if you even want to know half the shit that doesn’t even matter anymore.”

“If it’s something you still think about and it still bothers you, it does matter, love.”

Steve blushed at the name, always thrown off balance when Eddie introduced a new one.

Eddie searched his face and finally settled on his eyes, looking between them like he was gauging how far he was going to push on this.

“Let’s get in the shower and relax for a minute,” Eddie suggested, turning to start the water and get it to the right temperature.

Steve stripped down quickly, not wanting to wait another minute to be skin to skin with Eddie.

“Let me know if that’s a good temp, sweetheart,” Eddie said as he scooted away from the shower and started stripping his own clothes off.

Steve did as he was asked, quickly stepping in when he felt how perfectly warm and steamy it already was.

Eddie laughed when Steve let out a groan of satisfaction as the water streamed down his back, the stress of the day falling away.

Maybe there was something to what Eddie said about washing away the bad.

Eddie was joining him ten seconds later, pulling him into his chest and guiding his head to his shoulder.

Steve knew he had to talk.

“I guess I’ll just start with what happened today. Is that okay?”

“Anything you wanna tell me is okay, love.”

Eddie’s hands were running up and down his back, the hot water falling down his back.

“My dad called me. He said my mom’s sick. Cancer. They think she’ll be okay after treatment, but there’s always a risk.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. When will she start treatment?”

“I don’t know,” Steve sighed. “I have to call her. My relationship with them…it’s complicated.”

“I gathered as much,” Eddie said with a kiss against the top of his head. “Lean your head back, sunshine. I’ll start washing your hair.”

How could Steve possibly say no to that?

He leaned his head back enough to get it wet as he spoke.

“They were never great parents. I mean, I think my mom tried when I was little. She stayed home with me at least, but she never really did mom things. Like we never played together, she never read to me at bedtime, nothing you’d expect a mom to do. She only put me in sports so she could talk to the other rich moms.” Steve sighed as Eddie’s fingers gently moved through his hair. “And then when I turned 10, it was like she’d been counting down the days for me to be able to handle myself.”

Eddie’s hands froze.

“You stayed by yourself? Like after school?”

“Always. I mean my mom would never let me ride the bus because people like us weren’t supposed to or whatever. She had another mom in the neighborhood pick me up from school and drop me off at home. But I was alone 90% of the time. My mom went on work trips with my dad because she didn’t trust him. She was convinced he was having an affair with one of his partner’s wives, that the daughter she had when I was eight was actually his. And I wouldn’t put it past him honestly.”

“Jesus, that’s a lot.”

“That’s barely the beginning,” Steve snorted. “My dad was rarely home, which was probably a good thing. Anytime he came home he spent the entire time letting me know how much I let him down and how useless I was. How stupid I was for different things. Stupid at school, stupid with my friends, stupid at golf and basketball, stupid with my chores. The less he was home, the better.”

“Sweetheart, I’m so sorry. You didn’t ever deserve that.”

“Yeah, I guess I finally started to learn that when I graduated high school. I didn’t get into the colleges he expected me to and I was fine with it. We got into a big argument. He punched me, I blacked out, when I woke up, my mom was begging me not to get the cops involved, and I left. The car was in my name, I had three years’ worth of pity money my mom sent me, and a trust fund that I had access to the day I turned 18. I stayed with my girlfriend at the time for a few weeks and then found the apartment I’m in now, started community college, and didn’t talk to either of them for a while. My mom calls on my birthday and Christmas every year, but other than that, today was my first time hearing from my father since he punched me.”

Eddie had been scrubbing shampoo in his hair through everything, gently scratching at his scalp and running his fingers down through the ends of his hair. It helped keep him focused, calm, present.

He’d never said any of this to anyone except Robin, and she had to practically beg for him to talk about it.

With Eddie it was easy.

“I could kill him.”

Steve snorted.

“It wasn’t a big deal. I got a minor concussion, but it was kind of the final straw. I’m not sure I would’ve been brave enough to leave without him doing that.”

“I’m glad you left, but I wish you could have without that happening. They never deserved you.”

Steve didn’t expect the sob that exploded from him. He thought he was doing great, getting through the worst of it somewhat detached, letting himself ignore the hurt that still welled up when he talked about it.

Eddie’s hands moved to cup his cheeks, a surprisingly firm grip keeping Steve from being able to pull away.

“My love, you never deserved their neglect or abuse. Not as a child, not as a teenager, and not as an adult. You should have been given support and love, they should’ve been there for you, and you should’ve been able to find happiness your whole life.”

“Eds…” Steve began, but Eddie quickly stopped him.

“You feel conflicted about your mom, don’t you?”

Steve nodded slowly, sniffling as Eddie leaned his head back to rinse the shampoo from his hair.

“I felt that way about my dad. I never knew my mom, she died when I was a few months old from an overdose. My dad wasn’t a good dad, barely even a good human most of the time, but I think he loved me the only way he knew how. He never held down a job for more than a few weeks, always turned to selling drugs or robbery, even did a few jobs for the fucking mafia to make some money. Could always tell when he’d done that because we had steak for dinner,” Eddie snorted. “By the time I was 11, he’d landed himself in prison and my only option was living with my Uncle Wayne. When I got there, he treated me like royalty compared to my dad. I mean, my own bedroom, three meals a day, my favorite snacks for after school, new school supplies every year. Don’t get me wrong, we struggled. He had to work more than he should’ve just to get me the basics, but he loved me. And even when my dad got out on good behavior when I was 17, I stayed with Wayne.”

Steve had calmed down while Eddie spoke and rinsed his hair, his voice quiet and smooth, like honey on a spoon with medicine. Delivering his sympathy with a sweetness, in a way Steve hadn’t expected to help.

“Do you talk to your dad?” Steve couldn’t help but ask.

“Rarely. Sometimes he bugs Wayne for money, but he knows better than to ask me. He did it once when he found out I was doing well for myself. Asked if I could spot him first month’s rent on a place and I said the only way I’d do that is if he worked it off at my shop cleaning every night for a month. He said as his son I should just want to help with no requirements, so I hung up. Don’t even know if he’s living in an apartment or a car or couch surfing at this point. I just know he calls a couple times a year randomly to let me know he isn’t back in prison.”

“I’m sorry, baby. You deserved better than that.”

“I know. But I got better with Wayne. He’s my mom’s brother, so he told me all kinds of stories about what they got up to growing up. He said she was good, but let my dad get her hooked on the wrong things, and nothing, not even me, could pull her out.”

“Do you forgive her?”

It was a question he was asked in therapy a lot. It was even something he asked his students in certain situations. Something that didn’t always bring closure, but allowed people to heal enough to move on.

“I do. I don’t think I could forgive my dad in this lifetime, but I forgave her years ago. She was in a bad position and didn’t know how to get out. I can’t say I would’ve done any better in her shoes.”

“That’s really mature of you.”

“It’s just how it is.” Eddie pulled him close for a kiss on his lips. “But that doesn’t mean you have to ever forgive your parents.”

Steve knew that. He’d had therapists tell him that, Robin told him that, he just knew. But something about the way Eddie said it, the way he had a shitty parent and knew exactly how difficult it was to see the struggle of forgiving to let go and just letting go, it made Steve feel like he finally understood.

The rules did apply to him. He didn’t have to forgive them to prove that he understood psychology. He didn’t have to forgive them to accept that his relationship with them sucks and it won’t get better. He didn’t have to forgive them to still be sad that his mom was sick.

He could feel the conflicting emotions together, and Eddie would be here to hold him through them.

“I love you,” Steve whispered, leaning back in to press his lips to Eddie’s neck.

“I love you, too,” Eddie said back, letting his head fall backwards as Steve continued kissing down to his collarbone.

He pulled skin between his teeth, smirking when he felt Eddie’s cock hardening against his hip.

“Killing me, sunshine,” Eddie moaned.

“Wanna get you clean.”

“With your mouth? I’m not sure that’s gonna accomplish what you think it will.”

Eddie’s hands reached down his back, over his ass, squeezing and pulling his cheeks apart as water continued to run down them both.

“I wanna taste you,” Eddie said suddenly, like the thought had maybe just occurred to him that he could.

Steve froze.

“You wanna…”

“Taste you. Can I?”

“Yeah,” Steve nodded, doing his best to control his excitement and arousal so he could last more than 10 seconds.

But then Eddie smirked and turned him around so his back was facing him.

“Uh. What?”

“Hands on the wall and legs spread, sweet thing.”

It hit Steve like a freight train. Eddie was going to eat him out. In the shower.

He had eaten plenty of people out, women and men alike. He loved doing it, loved the way it brought out more whimpers and moans than just fingers.

But no one had ever returned the favor.

He’d had plenty of blowjobs. Like, probably more than average, actually. Especially in his school before he met Nancy.

But he’d never felt comfortable with anyone being that up close and personal with his asshole.

He was comfortable with Eddie, though. He trusted Eddie with everything, and he knew no matter what, Eddie would make this incredible.

So he put his hands on the shower wall in front of him, spread his legs out enough to feel some of the water dripping between his ass, and looked over his shoulder at Eddie.

“Is this good, sir?”

Eddie growled, which was a better reaction than Steve had expected.

He turned his head back to the wall when Eddie dropped to his knees behind him, his hands instantly cupping Steve’s ass and spreading it so his asshole was completely exposed.

“Fuck, it’s good. You’re so good, sweet thing.”

His mouth was leaving a trail of kisses down his lower back, each ass cheek, and then finally, finally Eddie’s tongue was licking a broad stripe over his hole.

Steve gasped at the feeling.

“Wanna hear you, sweetheart. Wanna hear what my tongue does to you,” Eddie said before diving back in.

Eddie wanted to hear him? Fine. He could shut off the filter.

He let out a whine when Eddie’s tongue started slowly moving up and down over his hole, spit dripping down and joining the constant fall of water.

Steve couldn’t grip anything against the wall, and his hands kept slipping as Eddie started licking faster, his tongue pushing just past his entrance every few licks, making him jump.

“Need-“ Steve started to say before Eddie’s hand smacked his ass.

“I know what you need, sweet thing. Get all the way against the wall.”

Steve did, hissing at how cold it was despite the warmth of the water.

“Stay there. If you need to cum you say please.”

“Yes, sir.”

Eddie’s tongue was licking over his hole as soon as he answered, pushing through the tight ring and making Steve’s head fall forward to rest against the wall.

His cock was trapped between his stomach and the wall, the cold touch just enough to keep his orgasm at bay. Even with the cold, he had to bite his lip and clench his fists to resist rutting against the wall and Eddie’s tongue.

He knew Eddie didn’t want him to move, and he wanted to be good.

He felt Eddie’s finger push in next to his tongue and his knees nearly gave out at the slight burn and then relief as it stretched him enough for Eddie’s tongue to slide further in.

“Yes, yes, yes, yes,” Steve repeated, pleasure wracking through him as Eddie’s finger pushed in and out, curling just right on every thrust inside.

Eddie pulled his face away, but kept his finger moving in and out, getting deeper without his tongue in the way.

“Being a slut, aren’t you, sweet thing? So needy.”

Steve knew they discussed it, but the reaction he had to being called a slut was not what he pictured before.

He felt his stomach clench, his balls pulling in tight to his body.

“Please. Please sir, please.”

“Mhm. That’s my sweet slut, begging for permission,” Eddie’s finger pulled out, but only long enough to slip two fingers in. “If you wanna cum, it’s gonna be on my tongue only. You understand?”

“Yes, sir,” Steve whined, wishing Eddie would get his tongue back on him, in him, wherever.

“Color?”

“Green, please, please,” Steve continued to beg, not even sure what he was begging for at this point, past the point of processing the pleasure he was feeling.

“So pretty when you beg. Can’t believe how tight you are. You a virgin, sweet thing?”

God, it’s like every word out of Eddie’s mouth went straight to Steve’s cock.

He could feel it pulsing, his heartbeat so loud in his chest, it felt like he could hear it echoing off the shower walls. Maybe it was.

He was certain Eddie could feel it in his fingers buried deep inside Steve, feel the way the blood was all flowing to his cock, rushing there to make sure it was all he could think about.

“Not a virgin,” Steve mumbled out, his lips dragging against the wall as he tried to use all his energy to hold himself up.

“No? You just stay this tight for everyone then?”

“Mhm.”

Eddie slapped his ass again, this time on the other side, harder. Probably hard enough to leave a red mark. Maybe it would bruise.

Steve moaned at the thought.

“You want my tongue again, sweet thing?”

“Need it, need it please.”

And Eddie must have needed it too, because he withdrew his fingers and replaced them with his tongue as quickly as possible.

His tongue was long, not quite long enough to reach where his fingers did, but long enough to keep him on the edge.

All it would take was one more thing, one more sensation.

And Eddie knew it.

He gave the back of his thigh a hard slap, and that was it.

“Please, please, please,” Steve said as he banged a hand against the wall.

Eddie tapped him once on the leg.

Green.

Steve came, release splattering against the shower wall and his stomach, his cock instantly sensitive after his second orgasm of the evening.

Eddie kept pushing his tongue in and out for a moment, but then stopped and slowly pulled away.

Steve couldn’t stand anymore. His knees were buckling and Eddie’s arms caught him before he could collapse all the way.

“Okay, sweet thing?”

Steve nodded, unable to speak.

Eddie guided his head to his shoulder, pressing a kiss to his temple.

“Let’s rinse you off and go to bed, okay?”

“‘Bout you?”

“You think I didn’t finish the moment your pretty little hole clenched around my tongue, sweet thing?”

Steve whined, the visual making a new home in his brain.

Eddie helped him back up, helped him wash off the remains of his release, then shut the water off.

He got out first, helping Steve out and quickly wrapping him in a towel.

“Doing okay?”

“Mhm. Thank you, baby,” Steve said, leaning in to get a kiss from Eddie.

“Let me brush my teeth first, my love.”

The second Eddie was done brushing his teeth, Steve’s mouth was on his, licking into it, tasting his teeth, his tongue.

“Love you.”

Eddie grinned, their kiss naturally breaking when he couldn’t stop smiling.

“Love you more, sunshine,” Eddie said as he patted his ass under the towel. “Let’s get to bed.”

—————

When Steve’s alarm went off, he was cold.

But he fell asleep with Eddie, so why was he cold?

He opened his eyes, reached over to shut off the alarm on his phone, and frowned.

The bed next to him was empty, and it was cold enough that it had to have been for a while.

Steve frowned to himself, his brows drawing down and his lip pouting out.

He pulled the blanket over himself and huffed out a sigh.

If he wanted to wake up alone, he would stay at his apartment.

He was lost in thoughts of being lonely when he felt warm hands on his face.

“Sorry, sunshine. Chrissy called and I didn’t wanna wake you up before your alarm.”

“Don’t wanna be alone,” Steve pouted.

He knew he was being ridiculous, but he didn’t like waking up without Eddie by his side.

“Sunshine, I’m right here,” Eddie smirked.

Steve didn’t like that tone. Like he was making fun of him silently.

Robin did it sometimes, too.

He turned away from where Eddie was kneeling by the side of the bed, pulling the blanket over his head.

“Stevie, c’mon.”

He felt Eddie’s side of the bed dip, and the blankets lift, but he burrowed his head under his pillow so Eddie wouldn’t try to kiss him out of his mood.

“Sweetheart, Chrissy called to see if I could check on her car tire. She said the low pressure light came on on her way to work and she doesn’t wanna drive home without it being looked at.”

“Should’ve woke me up.”

“Look at me, sweetheart.”

“No.”

“Are you being a brat?”

“No.”

“It sounds like you’re being a brat.”

Steve pulled his head out from under the pillow to pout at Eddie.

“I’m not a brat. Just mad.”

“Mad because I wasn’t in bed when you got up?”

Steve nodded.

“I’m sorry, sunshine. That’s probably gonna happen sometimes. Do you want me to wake you up next time?”

Steve nodded.

“Alright if that’s what you want,” Eddie smiled softly at him. “Can I get a kiss now or are you still upset?”

Steve sighed.

He was not happy about being awake, or how he woke up alone, but he did want a kiss. Maybe more than one.

He burrowed into Eddie, keeping his head back so he could kiss him, morning breath be damned.

“You wanna get up so we can get to your car at the shop?”

“Fuck. Forgot it was there.”

After the tattoo last night, and the visit to space, and then the shower, he’d kind of forgotten how to function at all, let alone that Eddie had driven him here.

“If you drive me to work, we can spend more time in bed,” Steve tried to convince Eddie.

“You’re insatiable, sweet thing,” Eddie smirked at him, but Steve could tell he was giving in.

“Just for you, always only for you,” Steve said.

He was being a little manipulative, but he meant every word.

He didn’t want to leave this bed, and after last night, he didn’t want Eddie to ever stop touching him. He wanted Eddie inside him, he wanted him to live everywhere, not just his heart.

“Want you,” Steve whined, pouting his bottom lip out again.

Eddie reached out and poked it with his finger, like he always did when Steve was being a bit bratty, and smiled.

“Sweetheart, we don’t have time to do the things I wanna do to you. It’s almost the weekend, and I only have a couple appointments, so I’ll be able to make sure you get me in any way you want me.”

“Promise?”

Eddie kissed him, lips soft but demanding, opening his mouth so his tongue could be inside.

Steve moaned around his tongue, his thoughts drifting to when his tongue was a lot lower the night before.

“Promise, my love.”

“Like when you call me nice things,” Steve sighed against his chest, letting himself enjoy the warmth and comfort before he had to get up.

“Yeah? You like being sunshine? My sweetheart? My sweet thing?” Eddie paused between each question to kiss him, causing him to giggle. But he paused and grinned at him. “What about when I call you other things? My slut?”

Steve reacted much like he did the night before.

“Like that too,” Steve managed to say as he felt Eddie moving his hand lower, lower, lower until it rested against the waistband of his boxers. “Like being your slut, sir.”

“Fuck me, sweet thing. The things I wanna do…” Eddie leaned down to suck a bruise into his neck, but then popped his head up. “Your tattoo! We gotta put some stuff on it.”

“My…Oh! Shit!”

Steve had genuinely forgotten about his new tattoo. Robin was going to kill him.

“C’mon, let me get it clean and moisturized and then you need to get ready for work.”

“Fine, but you owe me the best fuck of my life,” Steve said casually.

“Oh, sunshine. It’ll be the first of many best fucks of your life,” Eddie said as he pulled the blankets off of them.

Steve had a feeling he wasn’t exaggerating.

What did he get himself into?

—————

He decided to FaceTime Robin on his lunch break, just in case she wasn’t home when he got home after work.

He wanted her to see the tattoo before it reached the peeling stage and he was pretty sure he’d be spending the next few nights with Eddie.

She answered quickly, but she was…was she…

“Are you in the shower?”

“Are you judging me? Bold of you to do so when I heard through the grapevine that you fucked on our couch. Our couch, Steve.”

“That’s unrelated to you answering while in the shower. No offense, but I’ve seen your boobies more than enough.”

Robin rolled her eyes and leaned back to rinse the shampoo out of her hair.

“Sooooo. You’re in love.”

She said it so certainly, like she knew that he couldn’t possibly avoid it or deny it.

“Robs, you have no idea.”

She stopped mid-rinse and looked at him through the phone.

“Tell me.”

“He’s just. He understands me without me having to tell him things, but then I do tell him things. Like I told him about my parents! And I wasn’t even that scared.” Steve sighed. “He’s more than I ever imagined for myself, but I want to deserve him. I want to keep him.”

“Steve, you deserve to be the happiest. I think Eddie makes you so incredibly happy.” She turned to rinse some soap off her face before turning back to him. “He apparently talks about you nonstop with Chrissy.”

“Yeah, so explain that to me. Break that down into detail.”

Steve was smirking as Robin stuttered and shook her head.

“Nothing to explain. We’re being super casual right now.”

“Uh huh.”

“We just text a lot and I slept over at hers.”

“Uh huh.”

“She’s just really good at making me feel comfortable with like talking and touching and stuff.”

“Uh huh.”

“And she just seems to get me! Like even the first time a couple years ago, she just knew exactly what I needed.”

“Robin, it kinda sounds like you’re on your way to being in love, too.”

Steve was so happy for her. He was happy for Chrissy even though he barely knew her.

He was a little nervous about how that all would play out, but he figured Robin and Chrissy were the type of people who could just avoid each other if they had to for Steve and Eddie’s sake.

“I don’t know. I mean I do like her a lot, and I think maybe she likes me a lot, but she isn’t looking for anything serious and like, professionally she’s with other people sometimes. And like, I’m not against it, you know I’m not, I just don’t know how I’d handle the jealousy.”

“Okay, then you can burn that bridge when you get to it.”

“Steve, you know the term is cross that bridge when you get to it.”

“Yeah, but you may also have to burn it.”

“Hopefully not.”

“Hopefully not,” Steve agreed. “I did call for an actual reason.”

“Oh you mean it wasn’t to lament about Eddie’s dick and see my boobies?”

“Not today.” Steve unbuttoned the top three buttons on his shirt and moved the collar over so it was off his shoulder. “I got another tattoo.”

Steve moved the camera closer so she could see it.

“Steve,” Robin gasped. “Is that…for me?”

“Of course it’s for you. You’re my soulmate.”

He said it because it was true, but also because Robin didn’t always think she was as special to Steve as she was. She thought he’d abandon her, especially since he and Eddie have spent everyday together for nearly a week.

This would show her that no matter how far they may drift physically, she would always be by his side.

“Steve, it’s beautiful. Eddie did it?”

“Yeah. He drew it all and copied your eye color for the wings.”

Robin was crying, he could tell even though she’d moved the camera away from her face.

“He did a great job.”

“He always does. He’s done all of Chrissy’s, you know?”

“I know. Hers are beautiful too. Maybe he should do one for me.”

“I’m sure he’ll get you in quick since you’re the soulmate of his sunshine.”

“That is disgusting, but I’ll allow it if I get perks.”

Steve let out a laugh, happy to be sharing any of his time with Robin.

“You like it?” He couldn’t help asking. Sure, she’d complimented it, but he needed to know she was telling the truth.

“I love it. Thank you for doing this,” she said, her voice wet with a held back sob.

“Love you, Robs.”

“Love you, dingus.”

“Gotta get back to work.”

“I have to go to work.”

“Mkay. See you later.”

“Later.”

Steve hung up the phone and quickly ate his lunch.

Only six more hours until he could be with Eddie again.

Chapter 11

TAG LIST:  @invisibleflame812 @inmoonywetrust @captain-daryn @carlyv @lillemilly @spectrum-spectre @raisedbylibrarians @estrellami-1 @gregre369 @mightbeasleep @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @bornonthesavage @loguine-linguine @bejeweledbaby @bisexualdisastersworld @eddiemunsonswife @sadcanadianwinter @messrs-weasley @i-write-stories-not-sins-bitch @maya-custodios-dionach @sleepyboosstuff @novelnovella @jestyzesty @f1ct1onwh0re @croatoan-like-its-hot @shrimply-a-menace @crazyhatlady86 @izzy2210 @phirex22 @crypticcorvidinacottage @yourebuckingkiddingme @sydthekid2004 @lovelylilbadone @abydell921 @wildflower-faun @lydi-cyan @lololol-1234 @221b-fandom @carlajim98 @azure-and-gold @space-invading-pigeon @crying-trashcan @hellomynameismoo @mrsjellymunson

[mirkwoodshewolf]

Metal type; Eddie Munson x reader

*Author's note*

Well this came at a funny moment, plus after seeing some posts of how Eddie Munson and Patrick Verona from 10 things I hate about you are similar, I figured why not do this fic with a fun little twist at the ending. Unlike my Halloween fic there's not much warnings here but I'll still list them as followed:

Warnings: parental death, grief, drugs (not hardcore just cigarettes and joints mentioned), some angst but ends with fluff at the end.

Enjoy the fic my darlings :)

Taglist:

@plethora-of-things

@waddles03

@psychosupernatural

@gay-and-ready-to-cry

@jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels

@queen-paladin

_________________________________________________________

There’s been a lot of rumors going around lately.  Now me I typically stay out of that gossiping chain because it’s just a bunch of hens clucking up the coop where they don’t need to be sticking their beaks into.  But when the rumor’s involve (Y/n), that starts perking up my ears like a deer.

Now lately my girl’s (well at least in my head she’s my girl, I haven’t gotten the balls to ask her out yet but I have my reasons! Like this for example) been going through a rough patch.  Her mom just passed away from breast cancer and it’s been hard on her not only having to go through the whole funeral process and trying to figure out how to keep the house, and trying to deal with all of that whilst still going to school and trying to finish off senior year.

She shouldn’t need all this stress.  She deserves to have fun her last year of school, not be dealing with house mortgage, trying to sell her mom’s stuff or put it in storage, keep paying off the funeral and hospital bills, Jesus Christ she shouldn’t deal with this.  Now I have tried to at least help her but she’s been pushing me away telling me and the guys that she’s fine and that she doesn’t want to burden us with all this family drama.

Now I may have been young when I lost my mom, but I remember the stress that Wayne felt having to go through mom’s stuff since my old man sure as hell wasn’t going to do any of it.  But that’s not even the worst part of the rumors.

Hawkins is a small town where everyone knows everyone blah blah blah blah, but there is a new face that’s been around Hawkins since the start of the new year.  Some guy from Seattle named Patrick Verona.  Now if I’m honest, he seems like a descent guy.  Good taste in music, pretty metal looking, not into sports or anything like most guys are.  But he’s been hanging around (Y/n) far too much and he doesn’t even go to our school and yet people are saying they’re dating.

Again I’ve tried not to believe the rumors but I have seen how Patrick seems to be there whenever (Y/n) is too depressed to be around anyone else.  Always having an arm around her, allowing her a shoulder to cry on, and even kissing her tears away.  I can do all of that, hell we’ve been friends since middle school! Why can’t she allow me to do any of that stuff for her!? I want to be there for her so why isn’t she letting me help her out!?

It was lunchtime and once again (Y/n) hadn’t shown up for lunch.  I silently munched on my pretzels.

“(Y/n) not joining us again?” I heard Henderson say.

“Nope.” Said Jeff.

“I think I heard she went off with that Patrick guy again. Saw his bike coming up during third block just before the lunch bell rang.” Said Gareth.

“And my best guess is she’s gonna miss Hellfire again.” Whined Wheeler.

“Back off Wheeler!” I snapped throwing a pretzel at his head.  “She has a very good excuse to miss so many meetings. Grief isn’t something that can just be put on hold like a stupid laundry basket game or a dentist appointment.”

“Ow! Jesus…..” Wheeler whined.

“He didn’t mean it Eddie.” Henderson tried to lighten up Wheeler’s insensitive comment.

“Really cause I think he was making a statement on how I should run my club. Am I wrong Wheeler?” I sneered lowly.

“No Eddie I swear I didn’t mean it like that. I’m sorry.” Even for his weak-ass apology, I dropped it and went back to my snacked lunch.

“To be fair though Eddie, normally this many missed Hellfire meetings results in automatic banishment from the club. You sure you ain’t just going easy on her because you love her?” Gareth said bluntly.  I smacked him upside the head.

“Continue to say stupid shit like that and I’ll think about the banishment for another member of this group.” I threatened which got him to shut up and look back down at his tray.  When I looked up I soon spotted (Y/n) heading for the back doors.

Quickly I grabbed my lunchbox and chased after her.  I at least wanted to check up on her and see how she’s been doing since last I saw her a week or so ago.

“(N/n) wait! Wait!” I charged out the main doors of the school and she turned to face me.

“Oh Eddie, it’s you.”

“Yeah, sorry bout that didn’t mean to startle you.”

“You didn’t.” she looked extremely exhausted.  Bags upon bags were under her eyes and the poor thing looked exhausted.  The usual bubbly girl that I loved was nothing more than a shell of her former self.  Hell this girl would even sleep in class, the one thing she’s never done for as long as I’ve known her.

“So—so listen I uhh—I know it’s been hard lately for you. But I-uhh…I was wondering if you’d like to uhh…..have a movie night after Hellfire at my place? I’ll let you pick out any of your favorites, even if it’s that cheesy rom-com shit that I don’t like.”

“Eddie, that’s sweet of you but I—”

“Hey girlie, everything alright here?” that Australian accent (which I think is fake) came up and soon Patrick came up wrapping an arm around (Y/n)’s shoulders and in his other hand a bag of McDonalds, all the while holding a toothpick between his teeth.

“Everything’s fine Patrick.” My jaw ticked as (Y/n) introduced us, “I don’t think you both have been properly introduced. Eddie this is Patrick, Pat this is Eddie Munson.”

“Ohh Eddie? The Eddie Munson? Well nice to meet you mate.” Being the gentleman, we both shook hands and I said trying not to sound condescending.

“You too man. Nice ride.”

“What that old thing? A hand me down by my dad. Trying to save up for a real sweet ride. May even take this little lady for a joy ride. God knows she needs it.” He lightly jostled her which made her smile what almost resembled her real, sunshine smile (the smile that I always got out of her, the smile that rivals all the stars in the sky, the smile that I wish I could make her do again, but they all seem to be reserved for Patrick Verona now).

“So uhh about……” I started back up the conversation between (Y/n) and I but she said.

“Eddie I’m sorry but Patrick and I have some plans tonight. Maybe some other time?”

“Yeah, yeah sure no uhh—no problem. Just figure I’d offer.” I said nonchalantly as I stuffed my hands in my pockets and kicked a couple of pebbles at my feet.

“And Eddie, about Hellfire I……”

“No need. Your temporary leave is still accepted. Just come to me whenever you’re ready to return.”

“Thanks for understanding Eddie.”

“C’mon sugar glider, better get going before someone sees us.” Patrick said as he took them over to his bike.

“See yah around Eddie.” She said to me.

“Yeah, yeah see yah.” She got behind Patrick and wrapped her arms around him as he placed a second helmet on her head before revving his bike and pulled on out of the parking lot driving off down the road. “That manipulative son of a bitch.” I walked back inside and prepared for the remaining day of hell.

The day came and went and I found myself over at Family video just to browse but also to return some of the movies that needed to be returned (they may also have been late I honestly can’t remember).

“And he just waltz up and has her pinned up to his side like an ornament.” I ranted.  “And seriously I cannot take that accent seriously, don’t you think it’s fake?”

“Eddie, you’ve gotta stop obsessing over this Patrick guy, it’s not healthy.” Robin told me. 

“I can’t Robin! The guy’s completely taking advantage of her! I can’t just sit idly by anymore as some metal-head biker punk comes into town, and swoops down at her like a hawk.”

“You know it is kinda scary how he almost resembles you. Same wild hair, same eyes, you sure you don’t gotta brother or something?” Steve asked as he was stacking some videos.

“Not helping here Harrington.” I grumbled.

“Eddie, how do you know this is like a romantic thing? I mean, take me and Steve. We hang out all the time and we’re not together.”

“Oh absolutely not. Yet I’ll always have Robin’s back if she needs it.”

“Strictly platonic. With a capital PLAH. Have you seen them kiss on the lips?”

“No. But that doesn’t mean they probably don’t do it behind closed doors. Plus couples don’t always make lip to lip contact in public.”

“You can kiss platonically too. I see the cheerleaders doing it all the time, course it’s that fake Barbie air-cheek kiss but still they do it. You’re letting your imagination run wild, again.”

“Plus man if you had told her how you felt in the first place, maybe this wouldn’t be happening.” Steve added.

“I told you man, I was going to tell her but then she got the call from the hospital about her mom’s diagnosis. It—didn’t feel right to tell her. She needed her best friend, not a confession to think over while her mom’s dealing with sudden stage 4 breast cancer.”

“I agree with him on that Steve.” Robin said.

“Okay, okay but still you just…..gotta relax, okay? Look maybe he’ll move on after a while and forget about (Y/n).”

“It’s impossible to forget about her, that girl can make anyone fall in love with her.” I grumbled.  The bell rang and speak of the devil himself, Patrick came strolling in and he said.

“I’m told this is where you can get some good films.”

“Yeah, yeah what can we help you with?” Steve spoke up.

“Something upbeat and funny. Sugar glider needs it for tonight.” Sugar glider? Wait that’s what he had called (Y/n) yesterday, she isn’t…..after rejecting our daily movie night she goes off and has a movie night with this asshole? I swear if he weren’t so relatable, I’d beat his ass right now.

“Okay well comedies are just over there man.”

“Thanks mate, say you two wouldn’t happen to be Steve Harrington and Robin Buckley would you?”

“We are, how do you know our names?” Robin said.

“(Y/n) has told me a lot about you two. Especially how you two have been helping her out with sorting through her mum’s belongings. My thanks to you both.” So she goes off and tells this guy about all of us but she doesn’t say a word about you?

“Yeah, yeah it was no problem. She’s helped us out so it was only fitting we’d help her out.” Robin said as she was stacking some tapes along the shelf.  As Patrick picked out some of (Y/n)’s favorite comedies like Beverly Hills Cop, Ferris Buller’s Day off, Back to the Future, and the Princess Bride. As Robin rang them up for him, he turned to me and asked, “Now (Y/n) told me you’re the one to go to with some good deals on weed. You got anything in stock?”

Weed? Doesn’t he know that (Y/n) hates the smell of weed? Hell the girl’s allergic to cigarette smoke! Which is why I always make it appoint to never, ever under any circumstances wear the same clothes I smoke in around her let alone smoke around her.  Hell I’ll have the trailer burning multiple scented candles just to rid of the smell, yeah it gives me and Wayne headaches but it’s worth it so that she’s comfortable.

“What’s the occasion?” I demanded.

“Nothing special, just need a refill. Ran out of my own stuff and of course (Y/n) don’t have anything.” Jesus this guy is really gonna smoke around her?

“Regretfully I’m out of stock at the moment.”

“Damn, oh well. Gas station always has some smokes.” Jesus this guy is a grade A asshole.  And not in the popular jock standard, I mean just straight up insensitive asshole.  “Later.” He then walked out after paying for the videos.

“You see what I mean?!” I snapped lowly.

“The guy’s just asking for some smokes Eddie. You do it all the time.” Said Steve.

“Yeah but not around (Y/n)! Jesus I don’t even know why I’m still talking to you guys.” I rubbed my face into my hands in annoyance.

“Eddie, why don’t you just go home? Relax, have a drink, and just get your mind off of Patrick and (Y/n). I’m telling you you’re getting too involved in this and your imagination is running away with you.” Suggested Robin.  I stuffed my hand into the twizzlers jar taking a handful of them, bit into one and stormed out of the store.

As I lay across my bed twirling a twizzler in my hand I couldn’t help but think about (Y/n) and Patrick.  The more I thought about them together, the more my blood boiled and my other hand kept fidgeting with my rings.

“Screw it!” I sneered lowly before getting up, grabbing my keys and racing off toward her house.  I parked a bit off from her house and slowly walked up towards her hedges and hid behind them.  I slowly peeked over her window and saw (Y/n) sitting on the couch talking on the phone with someone while her TV was paused on Beverly Hills Cop.

Patrick soon came in with two beers and plopped down right next to her.  He set the beers down and had an arm wrapped around her and he looked at her concerningly.  His ringed hand stroking the top of her shoulder.  She then hung the phone up and I saw her lower her face into her hands in defeat.  Patrick stroked his hand through her hair and the two of them briefly exchanged words.

I then watched as (Y/n) got up from the couch but Patrick suddenly grabbed her by her waist and pulled her over his lap and he gave her a peck to her forehead.  She gave him a gently slap to the chest before he allowed her to get up off his lap.  But again, just as she walked two steps, he sat up, grabbed her by the waist again and pulled her back across his lap and pecked her twice this time on both her cheeks.  She shoved at his face playfully and told him something that I couldn’t understand but he allowed her to get up a third time.

As she got up, he then grabbed her and they playfully went down to the ground as he wrestled on top of her tickling her, I could hear the faint sounds of her laughter coming out from the window.

So it is true, she really did find someone better than me.  Well if that’s her decision then—I can’t stop her.  But this guy should at least have the decency in knowing of what she likes.  I walked over to the door and knocked on it rapidly.  I heard the laughter stop and footsteps coming to the door and opening it was (Y/n)m her hair a bit disheveled from their wrestling I had just seen.

“Eddie, what are you—”

“I need to talk to Patrick.”

“Uhh okay.” I didn’t wait for her to open the door as I just stormed in.  When I saw him getting up from the floor, he looked up at me and said.

“Well this is a surprise. Did you end up finding some smokes left over?” that smug-eating grin came across his face.

“Even if I did have any smokes or left over joints, I would tell you one thing. Don’t you ever smoke it around (Y/n), okay? She can’t stand the smell of it, not to mention she’s allergic to cigarette smoke. And that’s no joke, okay? Her breathing becomes so tight she can barely breathe, it’s like she’s going into anaphylactic shock if she even smells a whiff of it. So if you’re gonna date her, don’t you ever do that in front of her.”

“What?” he said confused with a head tilt.

“No, no you pay attention because you don’t know just how lucky you are man!” I snapped.  I jostled his shoulders and emphasized each point I made with a firm poke to his chest.  “You better treat this lady like a Queen, okay? Because if I had someone like (Y/n) (L/n) I would bring her her favorite flowers every chance I got. And they aren’t roses because she says roses are too cliché, you understand? Her favorite flowers are blue orchids, you got that blue orchids. Because they bring out her bright, beautiful eyes. And when she’s sick, she gets chicken ramen just like how her mom used to make for her with a side of saltine crackers. I would be her shoulder to cry on and her best friend. And I would spend every second of every day trying to get her to smile because she—she has the most beautiful smile that I’ve missed so much. And that I would do anything to see that smile again.”

I turned to look at (Y/n) who was staring at me with this wide-eyed look of awe.  Even though my heart was aching at the fact I had now spilled my feelings for her even though she’d never be mine, I—I had to at least let her know that I’ll always be there for her.

“But she chose you. So……you better do just that. And much more to make her happy, especially now. Because that’s what I would do.” I released Patrick’s shoulders and went to walk out the door but (Y/n) quickly got to the door before me and shut it, staring up at me with soft but sad eyes.

We both stared at each other until she slowly walked towards me.  I looked down shamefully but I soon felt her take my face in between her hands and her lips soon met mine.  Her arms slid around my neck and I wrapped mine around her waist bringing her closer to me as I kissed her back.

“See what’d I tell yah? He’s your penguin.” Patrick’s voice said.  We separated and saw he was leaning up against the wall, toothpick in mouth with a wide grin.

“What?”

“Eddie, I’d like for you to formally meet Patrick Verona. My cousin.” She told me.  I looked to Patrick in shock who grinned at us again and gave me a two-finger salute.

“Your—your cousin……”

“Well when we call each other cousins its more loosely. I treat my little sugar glider like she’s my little sister.” Patrick told me. 

“He’s been a real familial support system that I haven’t been getting with the rest of the family ever since mom got sick. After the funeral he just—showed up and he’s been staying here ever since helping me out with all this stuff.”

“Aunt (M/n) was the glue that kept the family together and ever since her death, the family’s been divided and (Y/n) has been stuck in the middle while still trying to finish school. I couldn’t let her go through all that drama and stress alone. One of us has to at least be successful, right sis?” He gave her a wink which made (Y/n) shake her head.

“They were right, I’m a complete dumbass.” I muttered.

“Look mate, any man whose willing to allow me to take this girl as my own, is a real man in my books. Even though if we did hook up we’d have some ugly-ass kids.” The three of us softly laughed.  Patrick came up to me and placed a strong hand to my shoulder softly jostling it around, “You know, I haven’t heard my little sugar glider talk about a boy the way she talks about you Eddie Munson. Now I see that you are truly something special to my little cousin.” I turned over to (Y/n) and said.

“More than anything in this whole world.” (Y/n) softly smiled as she placed her hand over her heart.

“Then you have my permission to date her, but just know this. If you ever break her heart or mistreat her,” the sound of a switchblade came out and I froze as the gleam of the blade came below my chin.

“Patrick!” (Y/n) exclaimed. As quick as he had brought it out, he sheathed it back and put it back into his pocket.

“Just for a word of warning.” He gave me a hard pat on the back and walked out ruffling (Y/n) hair before saying.  “Be back in a few hours, don’t have too much fun you two lovebirds.” Patrick then left the house leaving the two of us alone.

“I am so sorry about that, I swear that man acts like the fucking Joker sometimes.”

“He’s more metal than I ever could be.” (Y/n) came up and wrapped her arms around me.

“I think you are just the right amount of metal for me Eddie.”

“Really?”

“Really, really.” We both smiled and kissed each other again when a bang at the window spooked us apart and there stood Patrick giving us a warning glare (well mainly at me).  (Y/n) flipped him off and tossed a pillow at the window.  He stuck his tongue mockingly before disappearing from the window.

So the rest of the night was spent cuddling up on the couch watching her favorite movies until we both ended up falling asleep together.  By morning I noticed a blanket had been put around us both and I knew I wasn’t the one to have done it and neither had (Y/n).  There I saw a note on the table and it read:

Take care of my little sugar glider. And if you’re ever interested in some embarrassing stories she hasn’t told you from when we were kids, meet me for some smokes later this evening at the Hideout.

Patrick

I smiled and looked down at my best girl and kissed the top of her head.  At least we both had something in common besides physical appearances and our outlook on the world, we both care deeply for this girl that’s in my arms and want nothing but the best for her as she tries to move on from her grief.

[mybiasisexo]

Entangled - Part 9

Pairing: Chanyeol x f.Reader Chapter Warnings: Alcohol Consumption | Language take a shot whenever you see the f word smh Word Count: 8.3k Author Notes: So...Im sorry 😬? But aye, what's a story without a beach chapter, am I right?? I can't believe how close we are to the finish line. I think we have 3 chapters left ??? give or take. wooow will I actually finish a story for the first time in my life?? (like a real one not just a lil scenario haha). Sorry for the late update, I was gonna post on yeols bday but thought this wasnt a great present lmfaooo As always, dont be shy with letting me know your thoughts on the chapter, a def will need to know how you all feel at the end of this one 😮‍💨. Thank you to everybody still rocking with the story, it means sooo much to me 💕 and give our boy chanyeol some loooove MWAH!!!

It doesn’t take Seulgi and you long to change and head down to the beach. Being able to see the guys from up in your room, you join them quickly.

They got their hands on a grill somehow, and you find Jongdae already cooking on it, beer in one hand.

“Already looking like a dad, Dae,” Seulgi announces in greeting, taking in his unbuttoned green Hawaiian shirt, oversized sunglasses, and fisherman’s hat. He grins brightly and rewards her with a fresh piece of juicy meat.   

Beside Jongdae and the grill sits a long table covered with food, drinks, and a bluetooth speaker currently playing chill R&B. A little further behind him is a blue canopy to block the blazing sun from your sensitive skin, chairs littered underneath it.

This area of the beach is privately owned, for hotel residents only. Despite how large the hotel is, only a few other families dot the shore, all far enough away that your little party is practically secluded.

You drop your bag onto a chair and dig into it, pulling out a bottle of sunscreen. You rub it into any skin of yours exposed before walking out of the canopy, holding it up for everyone to see. “Who needs some?”

Sehun and Jongin come running towards you, both only wearing swim trunks. You suck your teeth, their backs are probably already screaming at them.

Jongin gets to you first. You turn him around and begin to apply the protective lotion onto his back, where it will be hard for him to reach.

“We missed you last night,” he says.

“I know,” you reply. For some reason, your throat constricts, dragging your voice down to a deep mumble. “I’m sorry for leaving. I just….”

“I understand,” he says, patting one of your hands. Throwing his head back, he tosses you a sweet grin. You return his smile before handing him the bottle so that he can cover the rest of himself.

With Jongin preoccupied, Sehun makes his way over, already trying to get a read on you. He understands the language of your body enough to fill in blanks you don’t even know are empty.

“Good afternoon,” you greet, keeping your voice neutral. 

“He’s in the water,” is his reply.

“Who?” Damn this man. He’s good.

He scoffs. “Please, you’ve been scanning the area non stop since you’ve arrived. Baekhyun had to drag him out as soon as he got here. He was getting pretty worked up about something. I’m assuming it was the fact you weren’t here.”

“Weird,” is your convincing response. You push his arm, leading him to turn around so that you can attempt to save him from skin cancer.

“Weird, indeed.” Despite not being able to see you, his curious gaze can still be felt. “Makes me wonder what happened after you left the reception.”

“Not something I really want to talk about.” You wince, knowing you’ve slipped up and said too much. The simple sentence bares a lot to unpack, and Sehun loves other people’s dirty laundry.

But, in Sehun fashion, he doesn’t push. It’s one thing you love about him. Instead, he faces you and grabs the sunscreen, silently lotioning the rest of his body. When he’s done he reaches over to you, pulling at the black kimono you had meticulously put on over your swimsuit, to return the favor.

“Sehun!”

He yanks the thin fabric and it falls off your shoulders. You both freeze. He only lifts an eyebrow as his eyes rake down the expansion of your exposed skin littered in harsh dark bruises. His gaze lingers for an uncomfortably long time. You want to pull away, but find yourself paralyzed, a mouse caught in the stare of a hungry snake. 

“Stop staring.”

The voice is gruff. A wet hand pulls at your arm, ripping the kimono from Sehun’s frozen hand. You stumble backwards until you hit a chill wetness that makes you hiss as it soaks into your back. Sehun’s eyes are the only thing to move as they shift to the person protectively hovering behind you. His expression is cool, but you catch the way his eyes alight in amusement. Swallowing thickly, you work the courage to see who’s caught his attention….

Chanyeol stops glaring at Sehun long enough to spin you around so that you’re facing each other. With gentle fingers, he fixes your pullover, maneuvering it so that it’s covering your neck, hiding most of the damage. 

He clicks his tongue in dismay. “This won’t do.”

“I have a shirt,” you inform in a small voice. “It doesn’t have a collar though.”

“One second.” Chanyeol walks away, no longer blocking the radiant view of crashing teal waves, powdery sand, and miles of blue sky. White clouds speckle the troposphere, the negative image of your neck and chest. Off to your right, Sehun still stands, a glorious statue made of pale marble.

You can’t bring yourself to acknowledge his presence. 

Chanyeol returns. In his hands is the ugly Hawaiian shirt Jongdae was wearing.

You become aware of the rashguard covering his torso. The collar is high, covering the base of his neck where any hickeys can be hidden, although you can just barely see the start of one peeking out. You curse yourself for not thinking of buying one. 

“May I?” He gently asks. Is that not how he asked to strip you last night? The reminder takes your voice, as does the reserved look in his eyes. He’s testing the water, trying to see where you both stand at the moment. You nod, allowing him access to touch you, lost in his grim expression.

Gently, ever so gently, his fingers brush over your shoulders, sneaking under the thin garment. You battle a shiver as he lifts the back of his hands, knocking the fabric off with his knuckles. You roll back your shoulders, helping him make the cover cascade onto the sand below.

Chanyeol’s bright eyes wander over your flesh. He grunts in satisfaction at the sight of the marks he’s made, pride coloring his features. And you’re transfixed, gulping back saliva flooding your mouth like high tide. Your breathing grows erratic, fingers itching to touch him in return. Apparently that tension hasn’t fully gone away. Looks like you’ll be attracted to him for life.

You want to say something, want to voice an excuse to get your hands on him, but a sharp whistle cuts through the air before you can speak, breaking the spell Chanyeol has you falling under. You blink away your thirst, remembering where you are, of the audience you have.

“Looks like you got into some fun last night!” Jongdae, the culprit of the whistle, points out in a yell. 

You’re now hyper aware of all your friends. Baekhyun, who you’re just now noticing, sits in the shallow part of the water where the waves roughly push him, dressed identically to Chanyeol. He’s looking in your general direction, squinting against the sun to see what all the commotion is about. Seulgi stands beside Jongdae. She’s in the middle of applying sunscreen, one of her legs lifted like a flamingo. She doesn’t have to say anything for you to hear her ‘oh shit’, wobbling as she balances on that one leg. Sehun is still staring right next to you, but the whistle was able to jolt him back from stone. Then there is Jongin, who jogs back to where everyone is congregated to curiously see what is going on.

Being the only one moving, your head spins over to him, seeing how his mouth slacks and his eyes widen in shock.

“What happened?” He asks, concerned.

Embarrassed, you snatch the shirt out of Chanyeol’s grip, rushing to put it on so that everyone will stop staring at you like you just told them you murdered someone.

“Mind your business,” you snap. You regret it instantly when Jongin’s face falls like a kicked puppy. It can’t be helped, you have a tendency to lash out when embarrassed.

“Dae! The meat!””

Gratefully, a hard gust of wind blows in, lifting the aluminum foil with the cooking meat off the grill, falling onto the sand.

That distracts everyone from you. You thank a higher power.

Jongdae stares forlornly at the meat, watching sand coat it like seasoning. 

“What are you doing!” Baekhyun yelps, rushing to his feet. “Pick it up!”

That pulls Jongdae out of whatever trance he was in and he lurches forward, grabbing the hot foil and tossing it onto the end of the table. He hisses and shakes his hands, sticking a reddening thumb into his mouth.

Baekhyun rushes over to the table for quality control and his shoulders slump at the damage.

“This batch is no good.”

“Way to go, Jongdae,” Chanyeol chides. He then peeks over to you, surreptitiously checking your reaction.

“Shut it!” Jongdae snaps back.

Seeing a good opportunity to escape, you go to make your way over to Seulgi. Chanyeol is not having that, and you only get one step in before he’s snatching your wrist, holding you in place in front of him.

“Don’t go,” he begs under his breath.

You refuse to look up at him, knowing that whatever expression he currently wears will kill what little resolve you have. You know you need to discuss what happened the night before, and why he woke up alone this morning, but you hate confrontation and don't want to have this conversation right at this moment. To be honest, you just want to relax for a bit. Is that so wrong?

You remain silent, not really sure what to say to get him off your back for the time being.

“Just talk to me,” he urges. “You were gone when I woke up, and….”

He falls silent, and you can’t resist the temptation any longer. You break and lift your chin, sucking in a breath at what greets you. It’s that same tortured expression from yesterday. Nerves, apprehension, and defeat swim in his opaque orbs, purple his lips. And you know you can no longer prolong with conversation. He’s hurting. You’re hurting him, and it’s not fair to keep tormenting him like this.

“Did I do something wrong?” He asks dejectedly, intently searching you for the answer. 

You open your mouth to answer him. To tell him no, he did nothing wrong, but then Seulgi is calling your name and running up to you. She grabs the arm Chanyeol isn’t holding. “Let’s get in the water. It’s hot.”

She completely ignores Chanyeol as she heads for the shore, dragging you with her.

“I’m sorry,” is all you’re able to get out before you’re pulled completely from his gentle touch. He releases your wrist without a fight, letting you retreat glumly.

“I’m going to have to talk to him eventually,” you tell Seulgi, rolling your eyes. You hit the water and hiss from the shock of the freezing temperature.

“You two don’t get much talking done when you’re together,” she answers, breathless from the cold of the water.

Ignoring–and also maybe even embracing–the pain from the waves chilling your warm skin, you both run until you’re thigh deep and then dive right in, swimming deeper into the abyss. 

You float on your back and try to focus on the paradise you’re in, instead of the devastated look in Chanyeol’s eyes. To no avail.

There’s some crashing noises that pull you upright to see Baekhyun running in to join Seulgi and you.

When he’s close, he jumps onto Seulgi, pulling her under water. Not one to miss an opportunity, you hop onto his back. The three of you break the surface, sputtering for air.

You stay secured around Baekhyun as you all catch your breaths. 

“What the hell,” Seulgi coughs, splashing him in the face. He laughs, but chokes on the sea salt, and you squeal when you’re caught in her attack.

Letting go of Baekhyun, you swim back around so that Seulgi and you are turned towards the shore with him facing you both.

“Is he still sulking?” He asks.

You dare a glance over to where Chanyeol is, refusing to acknowledge how quickly you’re able to seek him out. He’s in the chair you had claimed, watching the water with a sullen pout as he rests his chin in his hand.

“Oh yeah,” Seulgi answers. “The clouds around him are turning gray, he’s in such a mood.”

“He wouldn’t be like that if you’d stop avoiding him, you know?”

“I’m not avoiding him,” you say. “We just spoke.”

Baekhyun snorts. “Yeah and I can tell you’re both on the same page. Nice talk.”

He throws you a sarcastic thumbs up, you stick your tongue out at him.

He grows solemn. “Please, say something to him. The poor man is beating himself up right now.”

You sink further into the water, dipping in until your mouth is submerged, and run a hand over the tiny waves bobbing you. 

Beside you, Seulgi sighs. “I may have ruined their talk.”

Baekhyun throws his head back and groans. “You’re killing me, Smalls.”

“How was I supposed to know?” She asks. “It looked like they were about to ditch us and fuck again. I’m just trying to help her not make another decision she’s going to instantly regret.”

“Whatever happens between them is their business, Seulgi,” Baekhyun says, sounding uncharacteristically reasonable. “You have to let them work through it their way.”

You wave your hand above your head like a needy sim. “I’m right here, you know?”

Seulgi pouts like a chastised child. “You’re right.”

Both Baekhyun and you spin your heads towards her in surprise.

“Did you just say I’m right?” Baekhyun asks. His shock quickly morphs into cockiness, if the grin splitting his face is any indicator.

She’s now the one to groan. “I will not be repeating myself.”

“I’ll cherish the moment for the rest of my life.” Baekhyun turns to you and his smile softens. “Talk to him soon. He’s getting annoying.”

“I will. I promise.” You assure. “Thank you, Hyunnie, for doing this. I know it isn’t easy for you either, being in the middle like this. I appreciate it.”

He shrugs. “You’re both my friends. I want to see you happy. I just hope you can work it out.”

Jongin and Jongdae come barrelling towards your group. As soon as you see your sweet friend, you can’t help but hold your arms out for him.

“Nini!” You cry. He laughs and falls into your embrace, tackling you back into the depths of the sea. When you both emerge, you apologize for yelling at him.

“You’re forgiven,” he says, never taking anything to heart. “But I was surprised. I didn’t expect to see all your bruises. It looks like you got beat up.”

You whine his name. “You’re making it worse.”

“Hey, they do say that weddings are the best place to pick up chicks,” Jongdae says. “Well, I guess dudes for you. Unless….”

He gives you a wicked smirk and you splash him.

“Anyway, good on you for getting some. You deserve it.”

“Thanks, Jongdae,” you say dryly, rolling your eyes. “Also, my bad on the shirt. I forgot I was wearing it before I got in here.”

He takes notice of his button down floating around you and gasps dramatically. “You better wash it before you give it back. It was expensive.”

You look at him skeptically. “This tourist shirt?”

“Do you really think it’s a good idea to have those two cook the meat?” Baekhyun asks, putting your incoming argument with Jongdae to a halt. All five of you turn to the last people still on dry land. The tall boys stand over the grill, Chanyeol with the tongs in his hand. His eyebrows are scrunched as he listens to Sehun adamantly speaking, nodding and answering occasionally. it’s a deep conversation you don’t want any part of.

Jongdae shrugs. “I need a break. It’s hot.”

You all play in the water for some time. Once hunger becomes too great to ignore, you swim back to the beach. Immediately, you crack open a cold beer, nearly moaning when it hits your belly. Now this is what you need. You’ve been sober far too long.

Jongdae wasn’t lying about the heat. Even under the canopy, you can’t escape the sun’s harsh rays. You succumb to the weather and peel off Jongdae’s now dry shirt, not caring anymore if the other’s see your marks, it’s already old news.

Slowly, you all make your way to the table. it’s out in the open and everyone is a bit hesitant to sit out there, but that’s where the food resides. Both Baekhyun and Chanyeol take off their shirts, overwhelmed by the temperature.

“Holy shit, Yeol,” you hear Jongdae say. “What happened to you?”

Everyone glances over to the tall man and your heart sinks at the sight of his exposed back. It’s hard to miss the rows of scratches you carved down his shoulder blades, red and angry.

At the mention of his name, Chanyeol turns around, revealing his neck, shoulders, and chest that look exactly like yours. Actually, his marks are deeper, darker. You were really letting him have it. In your defense, he did encourage you to do your worst, so it is hard for you to find any sympathy to send to the giant.

A loaded silence fills the area as he locks eyes with you. You sigh. That’s enough of an answer for everyone.

Giving up, you chug your beer empty as the extra heat of everyone’s attention bounces back and forth between you both, connecting the purple and blue dots.

“No way….” Jongin’s fingers trace the trail of his eyes. “Did you two…?”

You close your eyes in dismay. You’re going to hear it now.

“Wait a damn minute!” Jongdae’s loud ass voice echoes over the speaker. “You mean to tell me Chanyeol was the one who left those hickeys on you!?”

He gives you an impressed grin. “You naughty girl.”

You simply sink lower into your chair.

“Are you guys together now?” Jongin asks, bouncing on his toes in giddy excitement.

“I mean….” Chanyeol searches you out in hopes you’ll answer that question for him as well.

The attention has you awkwardly laughing, readjusting yourself so that you’re sitting properly again. 

“Please, you guys,” you say, laughter coating every consonant. “It’s nothing.”

Chanyeol’s head tilts at that, eyes fluttering in confusion. “What do you mean ‘nothing’?”

Your heart sinks as you realize you’ve made matters much worse. Chanyeol’s getting worked up now, and the last thing you want is to fight in front of everybody.

“I just mean it’s not a big deal.”

If your first sentence was you putting your foot in your mouth, this one is the whole damn leg.

“Not a big deal?” He repeats skeptically. He turns so that he’s properly looking at you, making sure he’s understanding correctly. “You think us having sex is ‘not a big deal’?”

“Okay,” Jongdae drawls. “Not together then.”

“That’s not what I meant,” you begin to explain, really wishing this conversation wasn’t happening like this. “It was a big deal to me, okay? But they shouldn’t expect more because of it.”

“Like us getting back together?” He continues to question in a monotonous tone. “You’re saying that they shouldn’t get their hopes up about us getting back together just because we had sex.”

“Exactly!” You clap, glad he understands.

“So that wasn’t us getting back together?”

His disappointment is hard to disguise, and it makes you feel bad. Again you’re reminded that if you’d just talked before this wouldn’t be happening. You sigh and prepare yourself to explain where you’re coming from.

“Chanyeol–”

“Meat’s getting cold,” Sehun interrupts, ending the real conversation before it can start. You’re grateful for it, still not mentally prepared to break Chanyeol’s heart any further, although it seems you may be past that point. Chanyeol’s jaw is tense, honestly everything about him is tense as he nods his head like he finally understands something before stomping over to the table, sitting at the end furthest from the canopy. He grabs a beer, cracking it open and guzzling it down rather aggressively. 

Everyone else reluctantly takes Chanyeol’s lead. When Baekhyun passes you, he grimaces, politely letting you know that you messed up. Sehun is the last to walk past. He stops and reaches a hand out for you to grab. You sigh before taking it, allowing him to pull you up.

“The last thing I want right now is a lecture,” you tell him.

“I’m just checking on you,” he assures. “You good?”

You stare at him. ‘Do I look like I’m good’ written all over your face and he grins, gaining the reaction he wanted. It’s gone as quick as it comes, an air of seriousness taking over.

“I thought we talked about this.” He starts. 

You point a finger at him. “Lecture.”

He purses his lips and lets his attention wander to the table. Everyone is trying their best to lighten the mood. You look also and are surprised to see Seulgi attempt to make small talk with Chanyeol, although he doesn’t appear that interested in the conversation.

“Okay, no lecture, but let me say one thing.” You groan. “Don’t leave this island with unfinished business. That’s only going to hurt you both more.”

You’re still taking in the table as he speaks, and Chanyeol must feel it because he’s looking back at you. He holds your stare for a few seconds, then catches himself and breaks the contact. It’s selfish, but you’re comforted by the familiar longing still lingering there.

You nod at Sehun’s words, turning back to him. “Yeah. Got it.”

He doesn’t believe you and his expression says as much.

“Hey! Hurry up and grab a plate!” Jongin orders you both. 

Sehun pats your arm and heads over to the table, you follow a few steps behind. The food is delicious and the alcohol starts flowing. Soon the sun starts its slow descent, and with full bellies, you all relax more. At this moment, you can’t help but to miss Junmyeon. He’s always the one taking pictures, annoying everyone by forcing you all to pose for what feels like hundreds of photos. Sehun, his successor, makes sure to take as many candids and selfies as he can. You find it easy to smile whenever the camera is focused on you, even when Chanyeol is also in the frame.

Speaking of Chanyeol, the beer, good food, and friendship seems to be working in lifting his spirits. His loud voice carries throughout the beach, and you catch his boisterous laugh from time to time. You’re relieved to know that you haven’t completely ruined this trip for him. 

By this point, the sky is a lovely pink and orange, and you’re a bit tipsy. You close your eyes and sway to the beat of whatever song is playing, snapping along. Someone holds your hand, causing your eyes to spring open to see Jongin gently urging you out of your seat. You allow him to drag you into a clear patch of sand near the waves. You start dancing with him, connected hands swinging between you both as you reluctantly laugh. Jongin is your designated dance partner. He’s one of the better dancers of your group, and you’re shy. He got into the habit of getting you out onto the dancefloor to loosen you up in college. Now is no different. You both roll your bodies and sway your hips to the beat, encouraging each other. The longer you dance, the closer you get, until your forehead rests on his collarbone, arms wrap around each other’s waists, and Jongin’s cheek presses atop your head.

“Are you okay?” He softly asks.

His question causes your vision to blur. You stare unseeingly into the now gray sea, waves crashing urgently and tighten your hold around his torso.

“I don’t think so,” you confess. 

“I don’t understand,” he says, sounding both confused and frustrated. “You both love each other, right? Why fight?”

“It’s not that simple, Nini. I wish it was, but….” You shake your head, not really knowing how to finish the sentence.

“Is it because of her?” He presses.

You close your eyes at the reminder of Yerim, another person your actions will hurt, and she’s yet to find out of your betrayal.

“Partially,” you admit.

Jongin rubs your back. “It'll work out. As long as you know what you want.”

You wipe your face and pull back to smile up at him, clipping his chin affectionately.

“Now that we’ve had that talk,” you say. “Let’s dance! We’re on vacation! I need to feel like it!”

He chuckles and spins you around so that your back is pressed against his torso.

“Turn the music up!” He orders. Whoever is in charge of the tunes obliges and you’re pleased when a song you can grind to comes on. You throw your arms up into the air and instantly lose yourself to the music, dancing back on Jongin who matches your moves easily.

Not really paying attention to your surroundings, you fail to notice someone joining your little party, but they make themselves known by gripping your arms, ripping you out of Jongin’s hold.

“What the–”

For the second time today, Chanyeol has pulled you away from someone. His hands are wrapped so tightly around your forearms, you wince from the pain. He doesn’t catch your discomfort, too busy giving Jongin the fiercest stare you’ve ever seen.

“Get the fuck off of her!” He snarls, dragging you even closer to him so that your face is pressed against his naked heaving chest.

You lean back and attempt to stare him down, but all you see is his sharp jaw.

“We’re just dancing,” you explain defensively.

That makes him look down at you, and you nearly gulp from the fury reflecting in his black orbs.

“That’s not how you ‘just dance’ with someone!”

That’s when you notice the way his words slightly blend together, notice how unsteady he is on his feet.

“You’re drunk,” you point out disappointedly. Remembering how good that did you both the last time he was under the influence.

He chuckles darkly at that. “So are you.”

Ugh, you aren’t anywhere near as faded as he currently is. You attempt to free yourself from him, but he’s holding onto you too tightly to break. There is no escape.

“Chanyeol, Bro, I swear that’s all we were doing,” Jongin calmly reassures.

“Don’t call me ‘bro’,” Chanyeol hisses. “You’ve always been like this, Jongin. You were always touching her! Don’t think I never noticed.”

“She’s my friend,” he says slowly, carefully, as if he’s speaking to a child.

“And she was my fiance!” Chanyeol all but roars. “But that never stopped you!”

You glance around. His outburst draws everyone’s attention and they watch the three of you curiously. Baekhyun and Sehun start to get up from their seats, probably intending to de-escalate the situation, but you don’t want to get anybody else involved. This is between Chanyeol and you. What is happening now is the consequence of you stalling the ‘what are we’ conversation you should’ve had the night before.

“Leave him alone, Yeol,” you mutter. “He’s not the one you’re mad at. It’s me.”

He doesn’t even spare you a glance, too focused on the man behind you. “Why won’t he answer me then? I’m right, aren’t I?”

“I promise I–”

Before Jongin can finish defending himself, you cut him off by putting your hands on Chanyeol’s chest, throwing your weight to shove him. In any other circumstance, he wouldn’t have budged, but his inebriation works in your favor, making him stumble a few steps. Unfortunately, he takes you with him, and you fall forward. He lets go of your arms to catch you by the waist, steadying you both.

“You okay?” He asks with worry.

“Yeah,” you huff. You pat his shoulder. “Why don’t we go for a walk?”

There’s a boardwalk a few meters away that looks deserted, that is probably the best place to have this discussion. Not waiting for an answer, you easily break his hold and start walking towards it. Chanyeol says something to Jongin you can’t catch over the sound of the sea, but it sounds smug enough that you sigh deeply in dismay. You’ll apologize to Jongin tomorrow, you promise to yourself.

When you pass the table, you lock eyes with both Baekhyun and Sehun.

“It’s okay,” you assure them, not even sure if you believe it. It’s enough for them, they stand down and nod, trusting you.

The journey is silent. The sun has disappeared completely by the time you’re on the worn wood, enveloping you in an almost foreboding darkness. The crashing of waves are intense beneath you, doing nothing to soothe your nerves. When you reach the end of the walk, you turn around to the man you know was following you the whole time.

He’s on you before you can even speak. His mouth moves roughly against yours, urgent and desperate. His frustration is felt, as is his still present affection. You fall easily into his kiss, giving into him as naturally as you always have. Your hands curl around his neck, pulling him closer. He cups your face, the palms of his hands squishing your cheeks, puckering your lips more for him to devour. He walks you backwards, until your bare back hits the splintered wood of the banister. it digs into your skin, making you whimper, but it’s not enough pain to distract you from the punishing pressure of Chanyeol’s lips.

The groan he lets out in response is tortured, long fingers desperately begin pulling at the band of your swimsuit bottoms, eager to feel all of you again. 

In sync, your mouths fall open, tongues colliding and lewdly twirling together. God. Fuck. You want him. You want him so bad it’s driving you crazy. You’re going to fuck him again. You’re going to fuck him right here on this damn boardwalk, space be damned–

But, that’s exactly the problem, isn’t it?

“Stop,” you gasp between kisses.

He hums before tilting his head to kiss you even deeper. Those wandering hands of his slide down to squeeze your ass. You shutter and press yourself more against him, slipping your arms fully around his neck to drag him lower so that he’s curved over you. A sheen of sweat the only thing between your boiling bodies.

Still, you can’t bring yourself to fall back completely into the make out session. Disappointment floods you. Seulgi is right, the two of you can’t be alone for even a second without falling into this toxic habit.

Now annoyed with how weak you are, you finally muster the strength to shove Chanyeol back, officially breaking the kiss.

With much needed space between you, you feel the fog of lust begin to clear and can think better. Chanyeol doesn’t say anything or make a move to resume what you interrupted. No. He just stands there, watching you with an expression you find hard to read as you both attempt to catch your heaving breaths. 

“What?” He finally asks, voice hoarse and deeper than hell. “You don’t want me anymore, Mel?”

There’s no sorrow, none of the longing or anger he’s shown throughout the day, which is surprising. It’s almost as if he knew this was how the night was going to go. Like he knew you were going to push him away.

“That….” You swallow thickly. “That’s not it.”

“Then what’s the problem?” He asks, taking a step towards you. You try to counter it, but that leads to more wood stabbing you. You’re sure some break the skin. He takes another step and now he’s directly in front of you, a mere breath away. He lowers his head to be more level with yours, giving you a close up view of his wound up fury.

“The problem,” you nearly stutter, overwhelmed by the hostility now coming off of him in waves. He’s never directed his anger towards you–the situation maybe, but never you–it’s intimidating and scary. You lick your dry lips, trying to find your voice, and he watches detachedly. “My problem is the opposite, Chanyeol. I still very much do.”

“That doesn’t seem like a problem to me.”

“Look at us!” You say. “We can’t be alone for five seconds without being all over each other! Last night was not supposed to happen the way it did! We weren’t supposed to sleep together!”

“But we did,” he snarls through clenched teeth. “And that means something, whether you want it to or not!”

“All that it means to me is we need space. This is too much for me, Yeol. We need time apart to figure out what the hell we actually want.”

“What is too much for you?” He asks, sounding exasperated. “The way I feel about you? The way you still feel about me? What is there to figure out? We still want each other, nothing else matters!”

“We still want each other physically!” You clarify. “I can agree with that, but the longer we’re together, the more I think that’s all we want!” 

“Of course not!” He finally yells. You flinch from the volume and that makes him catch himself. He huffs out a breath before repeating in a much gentler tone, “of course not.”  

He grabs one of your hands, thumb caressing your knuckles. “You are way more than that. You always have been. This is more than physical to me.”

Everything inside of you is screaming to believe him, and he himself is asking for that. For you to have faith in this, and to give it a chance. 

“Then why didn’t you say it back?” 

He doesn’t answer. Instead, he stares at the forming tears in your eyes and the slight wobble of your lips in confusion. He searches for the context to your question. It takes a minute, but then his eyes widen in realization and his mouth falls open, a slight ‘oh’ leaving before he’s snapping it back shut. The look he gives you after that is something akin to pity.

And there is your answer. You pull your hand out of his grasp, using it to wipe away the tears that slipped past your waterline. “Whatever. It doesn’t matter.”

He scrambles in alarm from your withdrawal. “Can you please stop saying shit like that?”

“Why?” You snap. Your irritation grows with every second he doesn’t give you the answer you desire. “It doesn’t. I didn’t mean it anyways. It just slipped out, so…yeah.”

You fidget nervously and try to make out the waves crashing against the wood underneath you. You’re so focused on that, you miss the way Chanyeol recoils in shock. You also miss the reigniting flames of his dimming anger.

“So when you told me you loved me, you didn’t mean it. Yet, you’re mad at me for not saying it?”

Him saying it out loud makes you cringe in embarrassment. As if he hasn’t done enough, you sense mockery in his tone. When you meet his eye again, the anger is still there, but it’s mostly frustration you notice.

“I’m not mad that you didn’t say it,” you deny.

“Yes you are!” He lets out a humorless laugh. Yeah, he’s definitely frustrated. “Is that what all this is about? Why you left this morning? Look, I’m sorry! It wasn’t because I didn’t feel the same, I was just…preoccupied.”

“Preoccupied with what?” You ask in disbelief.

He gives you a steady look, eyebrows raised in a way to say, ‘you know what’. It takes a minute for you to decipher what he’s alluding to, but then you remember what happened right after your little confession and groan his name, appalled.

“See?” He’s grinning like a madman now, pulling at your arms in an attempt to catch your attention. “That’s all I ever wanted to hear. And once I did, I couldn’t control myself anymore. You telling me you love me made me cum.”

“Be serious right now,” you say, frowning in disgust.

“Oh, I’m very serious right now,” he says, that gleefully large grin still on his face.

You throw him a skeptical look. “You’re smiling and talking about cum. You think this is a joke.”

That makes his smile slowly disappear. He says your name. “I don’t think this is funny. I’m telling you the truth. You want me to prove it to you? Hm? I’ll say it right now. I lo–”

“I don’t want to hear it now!” You interrupt in a shout. “If you had said it then, things might’ve been different, but you didn’t. I don’t care why you didn’t either. That was all the confirmation I needed. We have no idea what we want from this.”

“Here we go again,” he groans, walking a bit away from you.

You jut your jaw at that. “I’m going to repeat myself until you get it through that thick skull. Whatever happened, happened. It’s done. We’re done.”

Chanyeol’s frustration is back with a vengeance. His fingers run through his dark hair, yanking at the strands as he starts pacing in front of you. “How can you say that when you had your tongue down my throat minutes ago? You let me cum inside you! You told me you loved me! And that’s it? There’s mixed signals and then there’s whatever the fuck you’re doing right now.”

“There you go talking about cum again,” you mutter to yourself. Louder, “I’m being realistic! It’s only been three days. Three! And, what? We’re just supposed to pick up right where we left off? Act like the past few years never happened? That’s not how this works, and I doubt that’s healthy. We need more time.”

“I already told you that I’ll always love you, and I meant that. I know you’re scared, Mel. Hell, I’m scared too. You’re right, things are moving fast, but that’s because we still care for each other. I know you still love me. You wouldn’t have said it if you didn’t. This wouldn’t be us pretending we never broke up. This can be us realizing that we’re better together. That we’re even stronger now that we’ve had time to figure out who we are apart. Isn’t that what you wanted?”

“It was,” you’re quick to emphasize the past tense. “But I’ve changed a lot since the last time you saw me, Yeol, so stop acting like you know me.”

Something you say catches his attention, and he narrows his eyes suspiciously. “You haven’t changed much.” He says your name. “I still know you, probably better than anybody else here. Just like you still know me.” 

He’s stilled from pacing, and it’s a bit ominous after watching him frantically walk for the past couple minutes. He runs a hand over his face tiredly and lets out a heavy sigh. “So, that’s really what this is about.”

You raise an eyebrow questioningly and he laughs, shaking his head.

“I was hoping it wasn’t, but what you just said…. It all makes sense now.” He’s muttering under his breath, talking to himself.

“What are you going on about?” You ask.

“This morning, when I woke up and you weren’t there, I knew. I didn’t want to believe it, that you would do something like that, but I knew what happened the moment I realized you had left me.”

Your body begins to shake, and it isn’t from the cold. Foreboding chills your spine, causing goosebumps to rise, sharpening once he locks eyes with you, the accusations hard to miss.

“You still hate me.”

His hands curl into tight fists at his sides, trembling–as are his shoulders, his voice. He closes his eyes, taking deep calming breaths you doubt help him much. 

“And now you’re telling me you didn’t mean it when you said you loved me. That you changed since the ‘last time I saw you’. Was that your plan all along? To seduce me? Make me think you still gave a shit so that I’d let you fuck me and then leave? Was last night revenge sex?”

“No,” you gasp, genuinely shocked by his conclusion. “I already told you, it was a lapse of judgment–”

“I’m not playing this fucking game with you!” He shouts. His voice breaks, just like his heart currently does. “You don’t get to hurt me again. You can’t play with my feelings everytime I allow myself to be open with you. Maybe you’re right, Mel. Maybe I don’t know you anymore, because I never thought you could do something this fucking cruel.”

“Me? Cruel?” Your anger flares up. “What the fuck about you? You come here, bring some other girl you care nothing for, and then pretend like we never knew each other! Then proceeded to ignore her the whole time to flirt with me any chance you got!”

“We’re not talking about this trip!” Chanyeol dismisses. “I should have never brought her, I know that now, but that’s not what this is about. This is about the time before that, when you gave me back the engagement ring!”

Sehun mentioned the night before the wedding that you have a baseless grudge against Chanyeol, one that twisted the love you have for him, crossing that thin line over to hate. He was positive you made something up, a ‘lie’ he called it, to keep Chanyeol at arm’s length from your heart in order to protect it. The truth is that Sehun grew cocky. He believed so deeply that you couldn’t keep anything from him, that it was impossible to with the way he can so easily read you, that he never suspected when you did. It was only one thing. One thing you decided to keep to yourself, refusing to confide in even Sehun. The reason? To protect the man in front of you, the same way he protected you.

The last thing you want is to bring it up, but technically, Chanyeol is doing it first.

“Gave it back?” You’re in total disbelief. “You took it back the morning after you slept with me and then completely ghosted like I was some one night stand!”

“That’s what you wanted!” 

“When?” You ask, baffled. “When I invited you over? Or was it in the middle of us having sex?”

He runs a hand roughly through his hair. “Okay, but why did you invite me over?”

“Because I–”

He doesn’t let you finish, his own anger from that day getting the best of him. “Because you wanted to give me the ring back!”

His voice has risen, and it silences you completely. 

“Fuck!” He’s saying your name again, but there isn’t an ounce of affection. “You wanted to return the ring. It was the one thing–the only thing that gave me hope. I told you to keep it, because I knew as long as you still had it, there was still a future for us. But then you called me. It hadn’t even been a year since our separation–because that’s what we were, separated not broken up–and the first time I hear from you it’s to tell me you want to give me back your fucking ring!”

Your head is spinning, attempting to comprehend everything he just admitted, filling in blanks you have been trying to figure out for years now. You hate to admit it, but some things are starting to make sense. 

“So, which was it then?” You question rather calmly. “You were still hurt from when I broke things off, so when I reached out you saw your chance to return the favor? Or was it because you thought that’s why I asked you to come over, so you got upset, slept with me, and left as a big fuck you?”

“Neither,” he reveals, evident disgust from your thought process. “Sleeping with you that night just happened. I didn’t do it with the intention to hurt you.”

“Sounds familiar,” you point out. He pinches the bridge of his nose. It feels like you’re going nowhere. Like you’re speaking in circles. “But okay, fine, say I believe that you didn’t do it to hurt me. Why did you leave?”

“Because I didn’t want what happened that night to become our normal,” he admits. “You knew how I felt about you, and I didn’t want you to take advantage of that–of me. Come on, Mel, you’ve always known the power you have over me. If you had told me that night that all you wanted from me was sex, I’d given that to you. Hell, if you told me right now that’s all you want, I’d give it to you. I’d give you anything. You’re my Melody.” He takes a deep shaky breath. “But I knew that if I reduced myself to that just to keep you, it would destroy me. I didn’t want to lose myself like that. And I don’t ever want to hate you. That’s why I ultimately left. Took the ring–like you told me to–and ran before you could change my mind. That was me setting a boundary for myself. I had to let you go before I allowed you to use and break me.”

Your heart sinks at his explanation. “Do you really think I’d treat you like that?”

“Do you really think I’d make love to you and not mean it?” He counters.

Again, you’re back at square one. Blinking at one another, trying to figure out where you stand in each other’s hearts. With the newfound knowledge of Chanyeol’s thoughts on that infamous day, you look internally. To be honest, his words don’t sway you much. The hurt from that day is still painful. You vividly remember the way your heart shattered when he was nowhere to be found. To add salt to the wound, he had blocked you on everything, so that you had no way to contact him afterwards. Yes, you really did believe he was capable of doing that.

“No matter what your intention was that day,” you start. “The result is still the same.”

Once Chanyeol hears this, you watch him build up a wall, closing you off from him for the first time. Until right now, you believed he wasn’t capable of doing that to you. That it couldn’t be helped or that he felt comfortable enough to let his guard down in your presence. But watching all the vulnerability, all the honesty, all the affection he had for you vanish before your eyes, you realize you have been giving yourself too much credit.

“I guess that makes us even now, right?” He asks bitterly. 

You turn away, partially out of guilt, but also because you can’t stomach the haunted shadow dulling him. He’s right, in a sick way. You both ran away, hurting the other despite the reasoning behind it.

“So, that’s it then?” He asks when you fail to say anything.

“Chanyeol….” You turn back to him and instantly are bombarded with regret. You can so easily fix this. If you really want to, you can tell him that you forgive him for that night, that you truly never meant to hurt him and that the night before meant everything to you. You can walk off this boardwalk hand in hand, laughing with giddiness from falling back in love with your soulmate. Rejoining your friends who would be nothing but ecstatic and supportive of you working through your issues and returning to one another. You can do that. It will only take one simple sentence. 

But you don’t forgive him, and you haven’t really resolved anything. Your new relationship would be built on the foundation of ignorance, avoidance, and lust. You didn’t want that, not if it is the cost of having him back at this moment. You both have some healing to do before jumping into this again, and this conversation proved that. You aren’t ready.

“I–yeah. I think it would be for the best if we end things here.”

“Yeah,” he agrees in defeat. He sniffs and scratches the back of his head. “You’re probably right. There’s not much else I can say to make you stay.”

He takes you in one more time. In his reluctance, it’s as if he’s giving you a chance to change your answer, but you both know you won’t. Guess he does still know you well. He clears his throat and without saying goodbye, walks away. 

He’s about to clear the walk when you’re yelling at him to wait.

He does. He faces you and watches with wide eyes as you run hastily over to him. You stop at a safe distance, close enough to see him under the dim moonlight, but far enough away that you can’t feel the distracting heat of his body. 

He observes you warily, probably wondering how you’re going to break his heart this time. It’s that bit of doubt that made you run. There’s one last thing he needs to know, the one thing he needs to take away from this conversation, if nothing else.

“I don’t hate you.”

It’s the last thing he expected, and his reaction reflects that. His eyes grow glossy and he does his best to blink the unshed tears back, while also fighting the frown weighing the corners of his lips, causing them to tremble. Wordlessly, he reaches out to you, cupping the back of your head, and you let him. You allow him to touch you, to bring you close to him, relishing in his heat against the chilling bite of the ocean’s breeze. He pulls you in and presses a tender lingering kiss onto your forehead.

“Thank you,” he whispers against your skin.

And then he’s gone, taking all the warmth with him.

And you watch, as his fire dims and he blends with the gray of your surroundings before disappearing out of sight.

You pray to god that’s not a metaphor.

series m.list | main m.list

previous chapter | next chapter

taglist @byunparklimchoi, @defloey @notyuji @hisungovenaocare @theawesomehero7714

[royallyprincesslilly]

Title: If This Is Love, You Gotta Ride For Me {4}

Title: If This Is Love, You Gotta Ride For Me {4}

Lewis Hamilton x Reader

Warning: Heavy Angst, Cursing, Violence, Heartbreak, Blood, TW: Cancer Talk, TW: Murder, TW: Cancer Death, TW: Mentions of Sexual Assult, TW: Mention of Attempted Sexual Assault (Not graphic nor successful), PLENTY OF WORDS, Plot Heavy

Words: 9.4k

Summary: They say the truth will set you free but these truths can kill. Will revenge be enough?

Note: We're almost there. 1 more part to go.

As always, thank you for reading. I hope you enjoy.

If you enjoyed this, please, LIKE, COMMENT, REBLOG!!

****NOT Edited/Proofread****

Previous: If This Is Love, I Don’t Want It {1} | If This Is Love, You Need To Prove It {2} | If This Is Love, You Need To Mean It {3} |

-Lewis-

That was it then. He’d lost you. He could see it in your eyes. Those damn expressive angel eyes that always bored into him, always haunted him, always crippled him. He guessed they’d haunt him for the rest of his life now. He’d dream of them, envision them, and miss them. He didn’t know how he’d move on; he didn’t see a way to, but he also knew that when you’d made up your mind you made it up for good, and rarely if ever was it changeable.

His phone sounded with another notification. He expected it to be Aleeza, but it was the fellas group chat.

MSG Miles: I feel like we should be there when you tell old bitty to kick rocks.

MSG Andrew: Or to make sure she don’t tie your ass up and have her way with you. I totally see her being a Mrs. Robinson on 1000.

MSG Daniel: Things any better with Y/N? If you want I can put in the good word.

He sighed feeling more than thankful he had them. Throughout his life, they’d remained loyal and never fake. He was grateful they were there for mostly all the highs and even more of the lows. This low though really felt all-consuming.

MSG: Nah, I can handle the old bitty. I’ll show y’all the security footage later if she gets outta pocket.

MSG Miles: For entertainment purposes I kinda want her to get outta pocket and get shamed. Can’t wait for this cold dish of revenge Y/N is planning on serving.

MSG Daniel: She was def wild for all that shit she’s done. You don’t ever try to take anyone’s life for stupid reasons like dick.

MSG Andrew: Guess you can officially say you got these chicks wildin’ the fuck out over yo’ dick.

He knew it was a joke and any other time he probably would have laughed at it, only right now, it was too fresh—too raw. He was right though. Before he’d had situations with fans and groupies who’d done some wild shit to get his attention or even get close, but this took the cake. He wasn’t proud at all.

MSG: Shit’s wild.

MSG Daniel: How’s Y/N? frfr.

MSG: Not good. She’s not taking care of herself, avoiding the situation when it comes to us, and pushing me away. Shit’s not good. She looks at me and it feels like I’m looking at a stranger.

MSG Miles: That’s tough.

MSG Daniel: You gotta understand tho. Imagine finding all this shit out which changes things but still being on the receiving end of all that hurt. She must feel betrayed.

MSG Andrew: The whole virginity thing too is crazy. Give her time. It’s fresh right now. She probably hasn’t registered it all.

He knew Andrew was right, he could even see Daniel’s reasons too, but it didn’t make it any easier for him. The worst part for him was that he was trying to protect you the best way he thought of at that time, he was trying to protect you from any more danger after your accident and instead, he’d ended up shielding you from nothing. He’d caused the damage, but he couldn’t contain the fallout.

The self-loathing part of him wanted you to run away from him and never look back. He’d always worried that he’d only bring heartache to anyone he truly loved and here he was doing just that. Groaning, he rubbed the back of his neck trying to take away the pounding that had settled in since you walked into his bedroom in Monaco. He didn’t know how he was going to make it through the rest of the week.

MSG Daniel: Did she tell you the plan?

MSG: Nope.

He wanted to support you in this but rather than inserting himself he decided to let you take lead. If you wanted him to be involved you’d tell him. He knew better than to hold too tightly because it would have the opposite effect.

The sound of his doorbell rang throughout the house, and he knew who it was. He’d expected her. Even though he’d texted her his decision he knew she wouldn’t stand for it. He pulled up the security app on his phone and sighed seeing her standing there in a matching white pencil skirt suit. Her professionally dyed hair reflected the sun until it shined. She looked irritated and he decided then to irritate her some more.

A minute stretched and she waited. Before 2 minutes passed, she rang the bell again and again and again. She was really beyond getting on his nerves. He’d had enough. Tapping the microphone he began.

“What do you want Aleeza?”

Her head spun around before looking up right into the inconspicuous camera there. His security team thought it was the best spot to catch people unaware.

“Really Lewis!? Open the fucking door. You’re really pissing me off!”

He scoffed, “Why would I care? You gave me an ultimatum, actually, my blackmail options and I promptly gave you your response in the allotted time, swiftly go fuck yourself, lady. My dick isn’t for sale, lone or rental.”

Her jaw dropped. “Lewis! I suggest you think this through and think about your future and career. Think about everything you’re putting at risk.”

“Fuck! Shut up! No matter what you say or do my answer won’t change. It’s a no. I don’t want you in any way. You disgust me.”

She looked like she could blast off into the air any minute. He could actually see the steam coming out of her ears. Either she wasn’t used to being told no, or she’d really expected him to agree.

“You’re going to regret this come Friday. I swear it! Her blood is on your hands.”

He saw red! “Shut the fuck up! I swear to everything I value in this world, her being a primary one, if you touch her or hire someone else to touch even one skin follicle on her I will make you regret the day you ever put Jordan Y/L/N in your sights. I hold grudges and have a lot of money at my disposal and those two things spell trouble for people like you. Leave before I call my security to escort you off the property. Also don’t come back.”

She shoved her middle finger in the air while glaring at the camera then she stomped off. He watched her get into her car and slap and punch the steering wheel as she jerked back and forth. She must have been screaming and losing her shit. She’d played her ultimate hand—the four of a kind but he’d outplayed her with his royal flush.

As she rolled off his property he pulled up his messages with you.

MSG: From this moment be extra careful. She’s livid and feels she has nothing to lose. People like that are wild cards and wild cards are dangerous.

A few minutes passed before you replied.

MSG AngelEyes: Let the bitch come.

Your confidence and rage came through each word and though he was worried he also fell deeper in love with you because of them.

~~~~~~~~

-Y/N-

Rage is a quiet beast. It was one of the trickiest motherfuckers out there. There’d be times you think you’d tamed it and found a way to simmer it down only for a fragment of a word or a look made it flare. Rage was something familiar to you. You’d felt it when your mother passed, felt the crushing and suffocating feeling of it coiling within you, felt it trying to take over everything until it had. That rage changed your life.

This was the second time you’d dealt with it. You thought you had a better handle on it, but you’d come to realize that it was in your veins, in your blood, embedded in you. Shit, you were rage. when you least expected it the beast raged, and it took everything to rein it in. You had to because it wasn’t time to fully unleash it yet.

So Monday passed in a whirl. You worked, took meetings, did interviews, made plans for the team, and even the last-minute foundation event that you were in charge of planning. You were surprised no one saw the difference in you. It was your father who looked at you with an extra layer of worry. You had to assure him you were fine while making a note to make it up to him Friday night. By Friday night, he was going to see the scales of the chimera he’d married.

Tuesday came and mirrored Monday. You piled more and more on needing a constant distraction from the war in your head and the ache in your heart. This week was extra torturous because you were supposed to be at one of Lewis’ races to stand in for your father and you had no idea how you were going to make it through. Looking at him had become next to impossible, being anywhere near him was too much. You had no hope it would go smoothly.

When Wednesday came around and you landed in Barcelona, you told yourself to just get through the rest of the week. You were practically shutting down already. It took everything in you to get through the interviews. Took all of your composure and high media training to smile and laugh for the cameras. It took even more strength to take pictures with Lewis with his hand at the small of your back.

Your body still remembered him, still craved him, but your brain and heart were at war, leaving you in a chaotic state of panic. He must have noticed because he tried to put you on the end with George in between you as often as he could. Even that small action made your heart reach for him though your brain scoffed at it claiming it was the least he could do.

As you watched his race, you felt dead and suspected you looked it too. You noticed his distraction during the race, noticed he was driving very unlike himself but rather than not caring you found yourself getting upset about it.

“Maybe it’s time for Jordan to think about ending his contract if this is the quality of racing he’s giving us.”

Aleeza’s voice had the impact of nails running down a chalkboard. Instantly you reared around at her. She stood there in a mini skirt that was several decades too young for her and a blouse that was almost see-through. Trashy, you thought. You envisioned yourself Naruto running to her to then headbutting her then slamming her face into the cemented floor of the paddock and jumping on her back with your knee between her shoulder blades while placing her head in a headlock until she took her last breath.

It was then you realized you hadn’t tamed shit. It was in full control.

“Uh hello! What the hell is wrong with you, Y/N?”

Snapping back to reality, you saw she stared at you with confusion and amusement. Your head twitched with the effort it took to contain this beast you wanted to unleash in every way.

“See, I told Jordan that giving you too much responsibility wouldn’t be good for the brand or the family.”

She sighed and watched the screen.

“He definitely doesn’t look to be doing well today. Any idea why?”

“Oh, how would I know that now Aleeza? However—you don’t look to be doing well either. Your skin looks quite—dry.”

Aleeza gasped and clapped her hand on her cheek.

“Maybe you should make an appointment with my esthetician. She’d never let me go out looking like this.”

Aleeza glared at you then she took one step too close. It was a step you mirrored. “I can also give you the number to an age-appropriate stylist who won’t have you out here looking foul.”

You gave her the once over furthering her humiliation.

“When your father isn’t around the real you comes out.”

“Says the scaly slithering snake to the human.”

She looked as if she wanted to hit you and you prayed she did.

“I wish you would bitch. Make my fucking day.”

Aleeza must have seen you really didn’t give two fucks because she backed off a few seconds later.

“Enjoy this week, Y/N. Enjoy it well,” Aleeza said before she walked off.

The effort it took to flip back to the unbothered professional should have been huge, but it felt like lite work and that scared you a little.

“Don’t allow anyone, man, woman, or child, but especially a man turn you into something or someone you are not!”

Your mother’s words came back to you then and you clung to them more fiercely than you’d ever hung on to anything before. Her sage words held new meaning now. Was that how she’d taken the high road when it came to Aleeza back in the day? Was that how she’d remained so classy? You missed her even more now than ever.

By the time Friday came around and the fundraiser event arrived, you were back in London and more than ready to get the night over with. You looked yourself over once more then nodded at your reflection. This was as good as it was gonna get, you said to yourself. A message from your father told you of his arrival then you quickly made your way down to the waiting limo.

Once you got in, you smiled adoringly at your father.

“Wow, you look absolutely beautiful darling.”

“Thanks dad. You’re looking very debonair too.”

He smiled then straightened his tie and posed. You giggled and shook your head.

“The ladies won’t know what hit 'em.”

He chuckled but Aleeza’s hating ass cleared her throat exaggeratedly.

“Really?!”

You rolled your eyes. “Figure of speech. Really Aleeza, since you like to dress so young you’d think you’d keep your vocabulary just as young too.”

A small hiss escaped her. An actual hiss. The bitch was showing more and more of her true form with each passing day, you thought.

“Ladies,” your father warned.

You raised your hands up in defeat. “Kidding dad, you know I joke a lot.”

Aleeza glared at you from across the limo, clearly not interested in pretending anymore. Good, you thought. Tonight was going to be her big reveal.  Once the three of you stepped out of the limo in front of the flashing cameras you smiled, waved, and portrayed the perfect family. The majority of the photographers wanted pics of you and your father together sans Aleeza and that suit you fine. It was the perfect beginning of the night, starve the bitch of what she craved most—attention.

As the event went on, you smiled, took interviews, joked, and dazzled always remaining the center of the group discussion. Plenty of attendees complimented you on not only how beautiful you looked but how knowledgeable you were about a plethora of things not only F1 related. Those compliments were what brought you the most flattery. You’d always prized your brain over your beauty. Your mother taught you that beauty could fade and be taken away, but your intelligence was always yours.

More than halfway through the event your back was turned to the crowd as you guzzled another glass of champagne. They weren’t helping with anything really.

“Look who cleans up like an actual princess of F1.”

You turned to the teasing words and smiled at Miles. “Ha ha, funny.”

“You look great, Y/N,” Andrew said leaning in to kiss your cheek.

Miles and Daniel mirrored his actions and sentiments.

“Thank you.”

Lewis came into view, and he looked good—too good. The black tuxedo he wore looked made for him and probably was. From the look of it, you could tell it was probably a McQueen piece. He always could cut a good suit and Lewis loved how they fit him. You got lost scanning his attire for a few moments before you looked away and grabbed another glass of champagne from a passing waiter.

“Hi,” he quietly said.

You nodded and looked around the room.

“Glad you guys could make it,” you said.

“Of course. We said we had your back and if she really plans on making her move tonight then nowhere else we’d rather be,” Daniel said.

Being the amazing hacker—no information investigator he was, Daniel had been able to tap into her phone and clone it. Whenever she got a message so did you and she’d gotten plenty of messages over the week. She was very busy making plans for your downfall. It was insane how she moved. It was like she was highly intelligent or had bouts of it but was basically a basic dumb bitch. Who made illegal plans through cellphones? Who tried to off someone more than once? Who used the same person the 2nd time as the 1st? It was confusing as shit. Was she smart or stupid?

“I think she will. She’s said plenty of shit that hints at me not making it past this week.”

Lewis turned to the bar giving the group his back as he hung his head. You glanced at them hoping they could fill in what that was. Daniel, Miles, and Andrew all solemnly shook their heads. You wondered if he was still beating himself up about not placing in the last race. The race he practically had the worst finish in his entire career. He was always the hardest on himself.

A thought hit you then. Was he putting everything on his shoulders and beating himself up?

“This is dangerous,” Lewis said before he sighed. “It’s too dangerous.”

“I’ll be fine,” you dismissed.

“You can’t use yourself as bait.”

“There are so many of my guys on her tonight, no one will get near her. I promise bro.”

You felt safe knowing Daniel had assigned an additional 8 guys to bodyguard you. They were guys he’d personally chosen so you knew he trusted them and their ability to get the job done. A message came through on your phone and you knew it wasn’t for you. It was a message to Aleeza from whoever “Dom” was.

MSG Dom: Everything is ready. You sure you want sharp.

MSG Aleeza: Definitely. I want it to be excruciating.

MSG Dom: Such a waste. She’s hot. Maybe a little fun before it’s done?

MSG Aleeza: I don’t give a shit what else you want to do. Just get it done by midnight.

MSG Dom: Consider it done.

Your stomach rolled as you showed them the message.

“Wow,” they said in unison.

‘Yep. Anyway, enjoy yourselves, fellas. Seeing as it is my actual death day, I intend to live it up.”

You walked away and joined a group of faces you knew while trying to put the very disturbing facts in the back of your mind. When you made your speech to the crowd no one could tell anything was wrong. You were the picture of calm, grace, and professionalism. Your father oozed pride while Aleeza oozed her usual disdainful slime. It was more fun to fuck with her now so you did taunting her with glares, smiles and waves as a loving stepdaughter would. She hated it but the photographers loved it and ate it up.

Once business was finished you mingled and even allowed some of the attendees to swirl you around the dance floor. How you got through it, you had no idea. The sheer will of the heavens was not enough, it took everything above and in between. Twenty or so minutes after your father left, you looked at your phone and saw it was nearing 11:30. Deciding it was time to leave you shot Daniel a message letting him know.

As soon as you stood, Lewis approached you. The sad puppy dog look in his eyes made your belly flip and heart beat out your chest to him.

“If I don’t ask you now I’ll regret it. Can I have this dance?”

He held his hand out to you and you hesitated. So many urges filled you. Walk away, run away, slap him, stomp on his foot, crash your lips to his, and even accept his hand. You stood there unsure what to say but when a camera flash caught you from the right you realized the only thing you could do was accept it.

You placed your hand in his and tried to ignore the instant static shock that coursed through you. Sticking your finger in a socket had nothing on this feeling. Lewis led you to the sparsely spotted dance floor then wrapped his arm around you holding you firmly bit gently. He led you in a demure dance that drew the eyes of the remaining attendees. They smiled and raised their glasses to you as if blessing the possibility of this union. If only they knew, you thought.

You danced in silence for a long while as you battled the feelings bubbling within you. You couldn’t afford to fall apart now. The finish line was within sight, and you needed to remain objective.

“Can I say something?”

“What? Y—you just did.”

“Something else then?”

You nodded.

“You—ehm, you look absolutely breathtaking tonight.”

Your eyes locked and just like that, you felt yourself being sucked in. They were simple words that should not have elicited this reaction but that had, nonetheless.

“I’m so proud of the amazing job you managed to do tonight. You never cease to amaze me, but I am always blown away by you.”

You felt the tear roll before you could stop it and that tear led to another. Lewis’ features softened and he pulled you closer wrapping his arms around you. “Angel eyes,” Lewis whispered against your ear.

You buried your face in the crook of his neck, seeking refuge, and allowed yourself to cry. The way he held you tightly but so damn gently made you want to climb into his skin and allow him to comfort you until he’d erased every bad thing about the last few weeks. You wanted it so badly that it made you cry harder.

“I’m sorry,” he added voice rough with emotion.

His large, strong hands slipped lower from the middle of your back to the small apex at your tailbone. It was a small action, but it had a major impact. The erratic beat of your heart steadied and the tears that were flowing like a torrential downpour slowed to trickles. When he held you tighter against him so there was not even a microscopic speck of space between you, everything else faded.

A soft sigh fell from you as your body relaxed for the first time in days.

“I’m so sorry angel eyes. It kills me to see you like this, it kills me to know I’m the cause that had I made a different decision this may not have been such a colossal clusterfuck.”

You’d thought that same thing many times. In hindsight, it was easy to put the blame on him. If he had told you or your father from the very beginning maybe things would have been different. Or maybe Aleeza’s tight hold on your father would have made things convoluted and more complicated, maybe it would have made things worse. Maybe you would have lost your father’s trust. There were so many possibles, maybes, mights, and should haves but none of it was certain.

Your logical mind underneath all the rage, pain, and distrust knew this. It’s just when it all comes back, logic disappears and that was what happened. After blotting your tears on his fancy designer suit, you slowly took a few steps back from Lewis. His arms were reluctant to release you, but they did and when you were an arm’s length away, his hands fell to his sides.

Your eyes met and instantly you knew he had so much he wanted to say, so much he wanted you to hear but his lips remained sealed. A message on your phone brought your attention back to the task of the night. Revenge.

“I gotta go.”

With that, you slipped past him allowing your fingertips to graze his as you passed. Still, his touch sent jolts of electricity through you to rival the joules sent through a lightning strike. Forcing any thoughts that weren’t about the plan out of your head, you waved to others as you left then slipped outside. Though it appeared you were alone, you knew there were at least nine pairs of eyes on you and the panic button that was in your purse which tracked your location while recording every sound around you.

You slipped a pair of sunglasses on and then began swaying.

“Ms. Y/L/N? Are you waiting for your car?”

“M—My—car. It shoulda been ‘ere,” you heavily slurred.

“Let me find out for you. Lean against here so you don’t fall,” the attendant said.

“No, no, that won’t be necessary, Ms. Y/L/N, we are here. Right this way,” an unfamiliar voice said.

“Are you her driver?”

“Of course. Come, Ms. Y/L/N, your father has already made it home and wishes to see you.”

The man’s arm wrapped around your shoulder as he began leading you to a legit looking black car. You knew this guy wasn’t your driver and suspected it was that Dom person that Aleeza had been planning with. You allowed him to slip you into the back of the car and you immediately slumped sideways and started singing the first song that came to mind.

Why was it Britney Spears? Maybe because it was the easiest thing to sing off-key or because kidnappers and murderers wouldn’t think someone singing it would be dangerous. You had no idea but since you were running on pure instincts now, you did your best to drunkenly sing “Hit Me Baby One More Time”, you worked the panic button out of your purse and slipped it into your cleavage just in case they took your purse. The man who’d put you in the car got into the passenger side then looked back at you and laughed.

“She is hammered out of her mind. Aleeza really had her number. Are you still heartbroken sweet ‘art? Still missing someone or something between those thighs? Don’t worry I’ll fulfill all your desires in a little while. I’ll fix your loneliness.”

Your stomach churned and fear gripped your heart but again instinct kicked in and you belted the next line as loud and off-key as possible.

“My loneliness is killing me, and I!”

The men in the front laughed.

“Nah, your loneliness isn’t the one that’ll be killing you. Just wait.”

You don’t know how you did it, but you managed to be the best drunken socialite ever and the Daily Mail wasn’t around to see your Oscar-worthy performance. The whole time you tried to keep your mind off where they were taking you and what they planned to do. You focused on the fact that Daniel and his guys were tailing you and Miles had his detective friend on standby to apprehend these assholes.

When the car came to a slow rolling stop, you pretended to be passed out. As you were pulled out of the car you heard the men laughing with each other.

“Easiest job ever.”

“Tell me about it. I almost feel bad for the girl.”

“Your sister really has it out for her huh.”

“My sister is bat shit crazy and doesn’t know how to let shit go, but she is right about one thing with this bitch out the picture more money for her and to split with us.”

These guys were fucking idiots, you thought to yourself as you got all the inside information about what was going on. Worst criminals ever. Who talks about all this with the victim within earshot and alive?

“Come on it's almost midnight let’s have some fun then off her.”

“What a pity.”

You heard the clinking of belt buckles and the rustling of material, and you knew shit was about to go south. You sprang up and looked around.

“Where am I?”

“Detour,” the man you now knew as Dom and Aleeza’s brother said.

You let your head lol forward as if it were too heavy to hold.

“She’s still drunk,” the other man said snickering.

“That’s good, it’ll make this easier for you to accept.”

You saw his pants drop and you panicked, well sort of. Your heart raced wildly but your head was calm. You took in the men and looked to all the points you knew would cause the most pain. Throughout your life, you’ve gone through plenty of training and classes. Dance, piano, flute, gymnastics, media training, etiquette training, and even self-defense.

Your parents thought it was important that you knew basic survival moves in case you were ever the victim of an abduction or home invasion. What started as basic moves turned into detailed mixed martial arts training by the one man your father trusted, Hammond, your personal bodyguard, and trainer. He’d gone deep into your training and because of it, you knew how to take someone down in 6 moves or less.

Thankfully you’d never needed the use any of the in-depth moves on anyone. Kicks to the nuts and flying five fingers to the throat worked all the time. You knew you could take these idiots in under 5 moves. Before either could lay a hand on you, a phone rang.

“Goddamn it,” Dom grunted before he dug the phone out of his pocket. “OF course it’s her. What!”

You strained to hear who was talking on the other end, but nothing came through.

“I was just going to have some fun. Come on Leeza you promised. What’s it so fucking important that she’s dead by midnight? What the fuck is this some fucked up Cinderella reenactment? It’s bullshit. I’ll kill her after we’ve tried her out. A virgin with one fuck under her belt is still practically a virgin.”

He chuckled and his lackey joined in as his beady eyes looked over your body ready to pounce given the ok. You should have pressed the panic button then so Daniel and his men could be there within a minute, but you didn’t. That rage that was silently bubbling within you was no longer silent.

“Fine!”

Dom pushed a button on the phone then shoved it to you. You sat there expectantly waiting for something.

“I bet you’re wondering what is going on right now, huh? Trying to understand who they are and even why I am on the phone now.”

Aleeza giggled as if she’d won the biggest prize in the world. Yeah, laugh now bitch, I’m coming for you, you said in your head.

“Who—who is this? What’s happening?”

“Oh that’s right, you’re drunk off your ass because the man you thought was a diamond turned to be nothing but trash. The man you fell for used you and tossed you out like the trash you are.

She giggled again. “My god, it was such a good show to watch as your heart shattered into pieces on the floor and Lewis didn’t give one flying fuck.”

You were getting tired of her laughs. She sounded like a demented Cruella DeVille.

“A—Aleeza? Is that you?”

“Fucking right it’s me. I told you to enjoy this week. Did you? I hope you did because you won’t be seeing next week.”

“Wa—What are you—what do you mean?”

“For the life of me I don’t know how Jordan put you in charge of anything let alone the board, you’re as dumb as a box of nails. You didn’t see this coming at all, did you? My god, I don’t know why I’m surprised, neither did your whore of a mother.”

Your heartbeat picked up making your ears ring loudly. For a few moments, you couldn’t hear anything but the sound of your own body fighting.

“Hello? Dom, for fucks sake tell me you didn’t kill her.”

“I didn’t touch her. She looks like she’s about to pass out though.”

Again Aleeza cackled. “Your drunk brain won’t be able to put it together but don’t worry I’ll tell you 2 secrets, because you’ll be dead after you hear them and ya know dead whores tell no tales.”

You clenched your jaw and tried to control your breathing.

“I was behind your whole Lewis break up. I blackmailed him into breaking your heart in a precise way that you’d feel that pain for the rest of your life. I was there when he did it too, it was a good show. I told him either break your heart or end his career. Can you really be surprised he chose his career over you?”

She laughed.

“Is she crying? Please tell me the bitch is crying.”

The lackey bent down and looked at your face then smiled.

“She sure is.”

That only made Aleeza laugh louder. She thought you were crying tears of sadness when in fact they were tears of rage. Before, you were going to let the police handle the justice part of your revenge, but the decision was now made that your hands would deliver justice.

“So weak. If that made you cry then my 2nd secret might actually kill you. Get close, Y/N.”

A few tense moments passed in silence before Aleeza spoke again.

“I—killed—your—mother,” she whispered stretching out each word.

Your world came apart then. Your body shook as your head tried to understand. It made no sense. How was that possible?”

“How? You’re lying. My mother died from Cancer.”

“Oh, I know. Did you know that arsenic compounds can cause cancer? Matter of fact it’s classed as a group 1 carcinogen. That means science has proven that it conclusively and all the time causes cancer in humans. When I read that it only took me a few days to come up with a better plan. See I was just going to slip her some arsenic and wham bam she’s dead, but she didn’t deserve a quick death after stealing Jordan from me and living my dream for decades. So me and my big brother Dom committed to the slow game. If you give this compound little by little every day in small enough dosages that won’t harm right away but build up to kill. I was surprised it only took a year for her to actually get cancer. By then I’d run out of patience and upped the amount and well—she was gone 3 months after her diagnosis leaving your father all alone and ready for me. The rest well—is history.”

Your tears of rage were now tears of despair. This crazy bitch was so venomous, so evil that she planned and killed your mother. What the fuck was this? This couldn’t be real life. There was no way normal people went to these lengths to get what they wanted. How? Your breathing hitched and within seconds you were hyperventilating.

“Fuck Aleeza, you might have given her a heart attack.”

She only laughed louder. Your world had just fallen apart, and she was laughing as if it was the world’s funniest comedy series. This woman had single handedly ruined yours, your mothers and your father’s lives. She’d taken your mother from you leaving a chasm within you that would never be filled. Suddenly what you’d had planned for her didn’t seem like nearly enough. The bitch had to die.

“I can’t believe we got away with it. Now it’s your turn. Anyway, don’t worry about your dad, he’ll be following soon, and I’ll take good care of Lewis for you. Very good care. Bye-bye. Dom, get it done, kill the bitch.”

“You got it little sis.”

The phone beeped, ending the call and you sat there in disbelief. In your head your mother’s final day played in your mind. She’d been in so much pain, but she still kept a brave face on never giving anything away. You knew though and watching her say goodbye to you and your father broke all of you. She’d died holding both your hands her final words being, “I wish I had more time, but I love you both.”

Fresh tears filled your eyes, and you wailed feeling a whole new sense of loss. She’d taken everything from you.

“Aww, sad bitches aren’t any fun in bed,” the lackey said.

Dom however didn’t seem to care, he approached you then gripped your shoulders with both hands. As he began pushing you backward trying to make you lie down you snapped. Suddenly your knee raised and connected with his nuts. He shouted out then collapsed on top of you. Shoving him off, you bolted up in time to see the other man running toward you. You lifted your leg and connected the pointed tip of your heels under his chin in the spot where his windpipe began. The man instantly began coughing as he struggled to get air.

You jumped to your feet keeping your eyes on both of them. Dom came at you with a metal pipe swinging wildly wanting to connect with any part of you. Bobbing and weaving, you did just as Hammond taught you all those years ago. When he realized he wasn’t going to accomplish anything, he charged you taking you by surprise. His hands wrapped around your throat and squeezed.

“I was going to make this quick but fuck that. I’ll make it slow and painful. Ever been fucked in your ass gorgeous?!”

His smile was sinister and disgusting. You lifted your knee again and kicked his in his nuts for the 2nd time. Dom dropped to his knees holding his crotch.

“You’re as dumb as your sister.”

You picked up the metal pipe then smiled.

“Have you ever been fucked in your ass gorgeous?”

He looked at you in all seriousness. Before he could get one leg up, you swung the pipe and hit him right in the face. His body dropped and he writhed in pain. From the corner of your eye, you caught the other guy coming at you, but his fist connected with your cheek before you could react. It hurt like a motherfucker, but you didn’t focus on it, instead, you swung the pipe again and whacked him at his knees taking them out and sending him to the ground. You then stomped on his crotch and hit him in the back as he rolled over hoping to protect his equipment from any further attack.

You turned to Dom to give him another hit, but it was then Daniel and the bodyguards he’d assigned came running in. As you watched them overtake Dom and his partner, you saw Lewis swing the hardest punch right to the center of Dom's face breaking his nose and knocking him out completely. A true one-hit quitter. That wasn't enough though, Lewis then kicked him in the gut twice.

"You fucking wanker! You're gonna do what to her? Fuck out of here!" He finished on another kick.

Seeing the blood gushing from Dom's face only made you even more berzerk. You screamed out and turned whacking the shit out of anything that was nearby. Soon you were a raging maniac screaming, crying, and hitting what you could as the emotions ran through you.

Strong arms wrapped around you stopping you from bringing the metal pipe down on or into anything else, then the pipe was gone as Miles yanked it out your hands.

“It’s okay Y/N, I have you. It’s okay. It’s okay. It’s okay. It’s okay.”

Lewis’s voice tried to break through the haze of rage and everything going on in your head, but it was barely making it through. His grip tightened and slowly the ringing in your ears stopped and his voice could be heard.

“It’s okay, I have you. It’s okay, I have you. It’s okay, I have you. It’s okay, I have you. It’s okay, I have you.”

You turned to him and saw sympathy in his eyes. One look around the room told you that they’d heard.

“You—you—you--,” you stuttered.

“We heard.”

Standing beside Daniel you saw Hammond with a solemn look on his face.

“We heard everything, Sparkle,” Hammond said.

The nickname he’d given you when you were a kid broke through everything.

“Hammond.”

You ran to him and crashed your body into his. Hammond hugged you tightly.

“It’s okay Sparkle. We’re gonna take care of this.”

He led you away and you let him because you trust him completely.

Twenty or so minutes later you were sitting outside your house in the limo with Hammond, Daniel, Miles, Andrew, and Lewis. On the ride over, Hammond had filled you in on how he’d cornered Daniel at the event thinking he was planning to do you harm only to be looped into the whole Aleeza mess which led him to take point with Daniel to make sure you were safe. You thought he was still on his vacation with his wife Yulee.

You were staring at the mansion you grew up in with so much going through your mind. Right now, you were sure your father was waiting in his office for Hammond after he made a call telling him there was something important to discuss. The plan was to present him with all the evidence without Aleeza present then call the cops to come in to haul her ass off to join her brother.

As you walked through your house, it felt like you weren’t walking at all. When you looked down you found Lewis’s hand engulfing yours. You looked over at him and found his eyes boring into you.

“I have you.”

His voice was muffled almost distorted as if this was real right now. However, you knew it was because you would never dream this up. This was a nightmare. Hammond led the way into your father’s office and when he saw all of you, he immediately stood.

“What’s going on? Y/N, are you all right?”

He must have seen the forming bruise on your cheek and your split lip. He came over to you cupped your cheeks and examined your injuries.

“Who did this to you?”

His eyes roamed around until they landed on Lewis beside you who was still holding your hand. Your father’s eyes dropped down to take in your clasped hands. The only reaction was a raised eyebrow. You wiggled free from Lewis’ hand then put yours behind your back.

“Hello, Mr. Y/L/N,” Lewis said.

“Hello. What’s going on? Why are you all here this late?”

He looked at Hammond who sighed.

“Old friend, I wish I were here under better circumstances but I’m not. You should sit down for this.”

Your father looked at you and you could see the worry and alarm etched on his face. You took his hand and led him to his chair then stood beside him and let the chips fall. Lewis was the one to lay it all out. You didn’t think you could get through it without turning into a completely different person. As he calmly explained everything beginning with Aleeza’s first approach to him you kept your father’s hand in yours. You watched as Lewis blew up his contract and possibly his own career to tell everything.

Your father shot up to his feet. “You did what to my daughter!”

He lurched forward to Lewis, but you squeezed his hand hoping to reign in his anger and bring his eyes to you. “I’m fine.”

“Fine? Honey--,” He began cupping your cheek with his free hand.

Tears pricked your eyes, but you fought them off. Now was not the time to fall apart.

“I’m all right.”

“This is crazy. Aleeza did this?”

“Yes, and there’s more and it gets crazier,” Miles said.

Lewis placed his phone down on the desk as your father sat back down. Then he pressed play and the recording from his place with Aleeza admitting everything and even propositioning him for sex while blackmailing him with his career played in its entirety. Your father’s hand went limp then.

“Oh my god,” he muttered weakly.

When the recording went silent he looked back at you. “Oh my god, sweetheart I had—I didn’t—oh god.”

He turned back around and dropped his head in his hands.

“Old friend there is more.”

Silence stretched again and they looked at you expecting you to take the lead but you couldn’t. You were so tired. Daniel stepped forward and explained the new information you’d found about Dom and their plan to kidnap then kill you. Your father’s top popped then. His anger was so evident that Hammond had to brace his arm around him to try to calm him down. When Daniel went on to tell him the plan you’d concocted and the precautions he’d taken, you could tell that your father was even more anxious.

Hammond took over to finish the story with how the night ended but placed the voice recording on the desk so your father could hear everything from when you were put in the car to when they’d shown up. In a matter of minutes you watched a man who’d always been your hero, a man who you loved more than anything, a man who’d been your crutch since your mother passed, a man who you saw as a pillar of strength crumble before your very eyes. His legs gave out and he staggered to the set of leather couches on the other side of his office and the minute he sank into the couch he was bawling with the weight of his anguish.

He was no longer this strong indestructible man and father; he was a distraught and broken husband riddled with guilt for the signs he didn’t see and the life he’d led with his wife’s murderer.

“Noooooooooo!”

He began punching the coffee table before him with no thought of injury to himself. You knew this, it was rage. The same rage that was overflowing in you, the same rage that you feared would consume you unless you let it out. However you knew if you did there would be no stopping it. Miles, Andrew, Daniel and Hammond did their best to restrain him so he couldn’t hurt himself any further. Lewis stepped in front of you peering into your eyes.

“I know you’re not okay right now so tell me how I can help.”

You bit your bottom lip which you’d just realized was shaking. After a few moments, your resolve crumpled as did your face. You tried to formulate words, but nothing came out, just a wail. Lewis instantly wrapped his arms around you pulling you into his strong arms. You were content releasing your despair until the office door swung open and you heard her voice.

“Jordy bear,” she sing-songed.”

Once she’d stepped into the office she stopped in her tracks holding a tray with one glass of dark liquid. Her words from earlier filled your head.

“Don’t worry about your dad, he’ll be following soon.”

What was a quiet beast before turned into a thundering monster. You tore yourself from Lewis and locked eyes on your prey like a predator. Once Aleeza’s eyes landed on you, you watched every emotion in the book wash across her face. When it settled on one, “Oh I’m fucked”, you pounced.

“Y/N, don’t,” Lewis shouted.

It was too late though. With speed you’d never had before you crossed the room to Aleeza who let go of the trey and shrieked. She made an attempt to turn and run but she was too slow. You yanked the bitch back by her hair then took out her legs bringing her to the floor right on her face. Keeping her disgusting hair wrapped around your fist, you pulled more while keeping your foot in the center of her back.

It was then you felt several pairs of hands pulling at you trying to get you off of her but you must have possessed the strength of a hundred men because you didn’t budge.

“Let her go!”

“No!”

Aleeza screamed louder as the voices behind you shouted even more for you to let her go. Fuck that you thought. You’d let her go when she’d departed to hell. A hand managed to yank you back so your knee came off her back, but your hand remained gripped in her hair. The force of you going back meant she came along for the ride which made her scream even more.

“Let her go!”

Suddenly all that was in your hand was the hair that was wrapped around it. It took a second or two to realize you’d yanked the bitch’s hair right out of her scalp. The bloody ends only fueled your anger making you see red completely. The hands that were holding you suddenly felt like a hindrance and you fought against them. You sent an elbow into someone’s gut, the back of your fist into someone’s nose, the back of your head into someone’s forehead then your forehead into someone’s forehead.

You then took off where Aleeza was running, a hand grabbed you, but you turned and shoved them before getting back to the scheduled program of beating this bitch into the grave. She screamed wildly as she ran. Seeing she was getting close to the steps you grabbed one of the vases in the hall and threw it at her feet. Aleeza screamed as she came crashing down. Before she could get up you jumped on her and began hitting her over and over and over. You didn’t stop for nothing and no one.

The more she screamed and begged you to stop the harder you hit her.

“Y/N, stop. You’ll kill her,” Lewis shouted as he tried to pull you back.

“Good! Like she killed my mother! Like she tried to kill me!”

Lewis grabbed your hand giving Aleeza a chance to squeeze out from under you. You elbowed him not caring where it landed then lunged for her again. As you wrapped your arms around her neck, you both toppled over the top step and then tumbled down the spiral staircase.

“Y/N!”

You were a bundle of legs and arms as you tumbled over and over. You felt the pain of every collision with the flat surface and blunt edge of the steps, but you didn’t care. Finally, your fall ended, and you lay there dazed and dizzy on the cold marble floor trying to catch your breath. As you breathed you ached but as you breathed it sounded more like a wheeze than a breath. Staring up, you thought you saw your mother’s face hovering above in the painted ceiling—her painted ceiling. You tried to raise your hand to touch her, but you ached too much. Her voice sounded then.

“Don’t allow anyone, man, woman, or child, but especially a man turn you into something or someone you are not!”

She deserves this,” you rasped. “After eve—everything she’s done to you. She killed you. She deserves to die.”

“Don’t allow anyone, man, woman, or child, but especially a man turn you into something or someone you are not!”

You bawled as you battled your wrath and the need for mercy. You didn’t know how to draw the line; you didn’t want to. You wanted her to bleed. You screamed loud and long then suddenly the all-consuming rage you’d felt the last week slowly left you as if it had found an opening to release itself.

Lewis came into view then. His mouth was moving but you heard no words. What you did hear though was a raspy “please.” As if possessed you turned toward the sound, ignoring the pain you felt. There was Aleeza crawling to the front door still trying to escape.

“Fuck—no!”

You flopped onto your belly then slowly inched toward her. It took forever but you managed to crawl over her and flip her onto her back. Her face was bloodied and bruised with both eyes swollen. She looked almost as ugly on the outside as she did inside.

“P—lease.”

“Look at me.”

Her pupils met yours through the tiny slits the swelling would allow and you saw her fear. Good you thought.

“I could kill you if I wanted to and no one here would bat an eye. They would help me dispose of your body and no one would ever think of you again because you are a pathetic, vile, and evil person who deserves to rot in hell for eternity. You spent so much fucking time hating my mother, hating me because you knew she was better than you. You knew that you were nothing but a speck of dirt on her shoe and you couldn’t stand it. She had what you never will, class and the love of so many people. You ruined so many lives. For what!!”

You raised your hand ready to hit her, but your hand was caught. Looking back, you saw your father.

“Don’t. Your mother wouldn’t want this for you. She wouldn’t want you to do this.”

“We’re never going to know what she wanted because she killed her!”

“I know. I know your rage honey, I feel it too, believe me, it is taking everything in me to not do what you’re doing but I won’t allow her to take anything else from us.”

His words were filled with so much pain, so much hate.

“I don’t know if I can daddy.”

“You can. Just take my hand,” Lewis said coming to stand beside your father.

You stared at him then looked at your father then back at Aleeza. Long moments passed with you not making any move until you saw your mother’s painting on the wall. Somehow the painter had managed to capture everything about her; her class, her beauty, her gentleness, her calm, and the pure peace she emulated. That peace washed over you and you knew it was her, it had to have been.

You took Lewis’ hand and allowed him to pull you up to brace yourself against him. As if sensing the fragile peace in the air, the police burst through the door.  You watched them grab Aleeza and haul her out. The police there took statements from everyone and confiscated the recordings for their evidence and samples of the brown liquid Aleeza was bringing in for your father.

After an hour, the foyer only had the seven of you. No one knew what to say.

“You need a hospital,” Lewis said to you.

“Please this is nothing. Hammond has put me through worse during training.”

“She’s tough,” Hammond replied with a proud smile.

Lewis nodded slowly but you could tell he was still worried.

“Tell you what I’ll get them both to the hospital for a proper exam,” Hammond compromised.

Lewis nodded with more enthusiasm.

“You gentlemen should be on your way,” your father said.

You looked at Miles, Andrew and Daniel and saw for the first time how banged up they looked.

“Oh my god, are you guys okay?”

They all backed up. “We’re good.”

It hit you then that you’d done this.

“Oh god guys I’m sorry.”

“No, you’re good. We’re going to head out,” Andrew said.

“Thank you guys for—everything.”

You locked eyes with each of them for a few moments and saw they understood just what you meant.

“That’s what fam is for,” Miles said.

You smiled then nodded. As they made their way to the door you noted how slowly Lewis walked.

“Are you okay?”

“He took an elbow to the chest, a headbutt, and a kick to the thigh,” Andrew listed.

Your jaw dropped. While he deserved maybe the headbutt for what he’d done, you felt bad about how you’d beaten him.

“I’m--,” you began.

“Don’t say it. I deserved it. It’s cool.”

“Ehm, speaking of what you deserve. I will see you bright and early in my office come Monday morning,” your father said.

Lewis took a deep breath and nodded. “Understood sir.”

The door closed and your eyes drifted back to your mother’s painting. You felt your father’s arms around you.

“She’d be proud of you. And so disappointed in myself.”

You turned to him. “Dad, you’re a victim in this. How were you to know? She played everyone.”

“I’m afraid to meet her again because I told her I’d protect you and look, I couldn’t.”

“Mom raised me with enough sense and all the tools to protect myself, plus with Hammond’s training, no one stands a chance—unless you’re a staircase. I think I may have broken a rib.”

Hammond laughed. “Let’s get you checked out. Come on,” he said as he got on your right with your father on the left. The two helped you hobble to the door.

“Lewis Hamilton, huh.”

You groaned totally not ready to have this candid conversation with him about your love life.

“He’s a little on the pretty side compared to your tastes. I have to admit I did not see that coming.”

You snorted then groaned as pain washed over you, “Neither did I, dad. Neither did I,” you said as you walked through the door and to the waiting car.

You knew this trip to the hospital was not going to be a quick in and out. You were close to crashing and honestly, you needed the rest. You were tired, your heart was tired—your soul was tired and ready to lay its burdens down.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

TagList:

@chaneajoyyy @caramara3 @valkryienymph @babyflowa07 @est1887 @halfrican-heat @mauvecherie-writes @nunya7394 @lovebittenbyevans @gardenwonders2 @sweetlikecoffy @dillie60 @ olabelle757 @ophiaedits @kenequa @triton08 @skyesthebomb @shipatheart @keytodespair @xsweetdellzx @labella420 @coldmuffinbanditshoe @ak329 @shar74nett @youremysuperstar @whore-like-behaviour

@alookintohersoul @asiaaisa77 @jd-now-jq @naturalthrone22      @mrsbarnes-rogers @beyourownkindofbeautiful @beccacupcakesxo @toni9 @wonderlandfandomkingdom @partypoison00 @queenoftheworldisdead @doublesidedscoobysnacks @sophiealiice @richonne4life @coffeebooksandfandom @siempremamita @raveviolet @dumbchick  @amennariee @briellableu @leebabe444 @31miw-inkpsycho

@rororo06 @disaster-rose @bugngiz @yourwonderbelle @queenbetter @melaninhawtie @bekindbecoolbeyou​ @heartfullofgolden @idkiwantchocolatee @missuniee @avngrsfangirl @a-highly-opinionated-mess @19jammmy ​@nunya7394 @eltima02 @motheroffae @luckydiorxoxo 

@majx00 @bbhyuneee @queenanababy @ravenqueen27 @multi-fandom5 @xsweetdellzx @bqueensweet @misswolff @g-l-o-b-e-w-h-o-r-e @blveeeeeee @majx00 @rowansshit @tian-monique

[carolmunson]

you can count on me (nurse!s.h.)

inspired by: i'll be home for christmas brought to you in part by carol's christmas song blitz, holiday cheer, and viewers like you. a/n: i cried while writing this, so good fuckin' luck. cw: 18+ minors dni, hurt/comfort, sad/complicated family dynamics, lots of hospital talk (but i don't know shit about nursing or hospitals so i'm sorry if any of this is just blatantly wrong), mentions of illness/cancer, talk of death, overall holiday stress. mentions/discussion of WWII and the korean war, some slight homophobia, religious references (praying/heaven/'upstairs'), but on the bright side the party is featured and nurse!steve is a total flirt, so.

Christmas Eve, 1974

“I’ll be home for Christmas. You can plan on me. Please have snow and mistletoe, and presents by the tree…”

“Grandpa, why do you always have to sing this song? It’s so sad,” Steve asked, curling onto his side to face his grandfather. He smiled, running a hand over the boy’s hair, a little chuckle rattled his lungs.  “Says who, sport?” he asks, creases on his face crinkling in faux offense. “Says daddy, says me. Daddy says it’s like if a funeral came for Christmas dinner,” Steve crosses his arms under the covers.  “It’s not a sad song to me, kiddo. Came out the year I was far away from your grandma,” he explains, “They played it a lot when we were away – but I got to go home that year and surprise ‘er. It was playing in the diner when I walked in to say hello and she cried and cried – cried like a baby, kissed me all over my face.”  “Ew,” Steve teased and laughed, “That’s gross. Girls are gross grandpa.” 

“They won’t be so gross when you’re old like me,” he laughed back at Steve, tickling him on the tummy, “But I don’t think it’s a sad song, buddy – it reminds me of how much I love Grammy.”  “So it’s a happy song, even though the words are sad?” Steve asked. He’s too young to understand, but that’s expected for such a little kid.  

“Songs are whatever you make of ‘em,” his grandpa shrugged, tucking the covers around Steve while his eyes drooped with sleep, “But I gotta finish singing so you go to bed, or else Santa won’t come.” 

“Okay, okay,” Steve smiled as his eyes fluttered closed, the soft hum of his grandfather’s voice sending him off for the seventh Christmas Eve in a row. 

Christmas Eve, 1979

“He’s always at the office, he’s never even here. And then when he is, he’s just –” Steve’s eyes brimmed with tears, hugging his knees to his chest on his bed spread, “God damn it, he’s so mean.” Steve’s grandfather lets out a big breath, clapping a hand to his grandson’s shoulder, “I think your dad is just really overworked, kiddo. He’s tired.”  “We’re all tired, grandpa,” Steve groans. He can’t believe the types of grown up things come out of his grandson’s mouth sometimes. 

“All he does is talk about how much – how much better I can be to his friends. Like I’m not good enough for him now,” the tears spill over onto his cheeks, sliding past his running nose, the mole near his jaw, “Like ‘Steve could be varsity his freshman year if he just gets that three-pointer right. It’s looking rough,’ or like, like, ‘Don’t think my Steve’s gonna be in any honors classes, maybe your kid can tutor him’” 

“You heard him Grandpa! He might as well have just – I don’t know – stood on the coffee table and told everyone h-how much – h-how much I s-suck at every-everything! Like I’m his favorite j-joke to tell at the w-watercooler. ‘Oh all he got from me was the good looking genes, other than that, not sure who’s kid he is.’” 

“Well your mother is very pretty. I would know, she’s my daughter,” he says softly, “So I think you got a lot of those genes from her.” 

He runs a hand over his bald head and smiles, “Maybe not my hair genes though.” 

Steve lets out a weak laugh, “It’s not funny, Grandpa.” 

“It’s a little funny,” he nods, a chuckle making his heavy shoulders bounce in his suit jacket. Steve laughs a little stronger, their laughs bouncing off each other, laughing from laughing, then laughing some more. 

“You know something buddy, I’ve been around a long time. I’ve met a lot of people like your dad,” he starts, “And I when it comes to people like that, it’s important to just be kind.” 

“But why? He’s not kind,” Steve argued, brows furrowing behind his new glasses. Another thing his dad teased him relentlessly over. ‘Shoulda named you Steve ‘Four-Eyes’ Harrington, kid.’ 

“I find the most unkind people need kindness the most,” he encourages, “And even if he’s still acting mean, at least you know you were the bigger man, right?” 

“I guess,” Steve shrugs, “Why do you think dad needs kindness? Everyone kisses his ass. You saw them down there.” 

The new tradition of the Harrington Office Christmas Party instead of the Harrington Family Christmas Party was weighing heavily on just about everyone. The time when they were supposed to be the closest and coziest quickly became the coldest. If this is how his dad was at home with his friends, Steve could only imagine what he says about him when he’s not there. 

“I’ll bet you your dad’s not very kind to himself,” he confesses, “So he doesn’t know how to be nice to other people.” 

“Well that’s too bad for him, then,” Steve broods. His grandpa barks another laugh. 

“That is too bad for him, isn’t it, sport?” he gets up, motioning for Steve to get comfortable before he starts to sing, “Gotta get to bed, Steve. It’s late – Santa’s not gonna make it if you don’t go to sleep.” 

“Grandpa, Santa’s not real,” Steve mumbles sullenly, getting under the covers. 

“Who told you that?” he asks, putting on a show of acting shocked. Flabbergasted. 

“Who do you think?” Steve shrugged, curling in on himself on his side and putting his glasses on the nightstand, “Dad told me. He said twelve’s too old to be believin' in Santa.” 

“If Santa’s not real, then how did he call me this morning?” he asks, “He told me about the Atari you put on your list.” 

“How do you know about that?” Steve shot up in bed, he only put the Atari on his Christmas letter to Santa. He didn’t tell anyone else about it. 

“I just told you! He called me!” he urges with a full belly laugh, heading to the door, “Now go to sleep, or he’ll put it under that tree for me, instead.” 

“Wait, Grandpa – sing the song.” 

“You sure? You’re not too old for your grandpa to sing you to sleep?” he asks, his heart swelling. 

“S’my favorite part of the night,” Steve smiles a drowsy smile, settling down in his covers while his grandfather starts to sing. 

Christmas Eve, 1981

“Christmas Eve will find me, where the love light gleams…” 

Steve sings softly to himself while he puts his pajamas on, the matching set his mother always made them wear for photos the next morning with the family. He can hear the sounds of the big corporate style Christmas party his father threw for the firm this year milling about downstairs. Even at fourteen, he wished his grandfather’s singing could drown out all the noise, but his Walkman would have to do. 

“He would have loved that you’re still singing it,” Steve’s mother says gently from his bedroom door, tears shining in her eyes, “It must be really hard to not have him around this year.” 

Steve forces a tight lipped smile, turning back to look at his mom and nods, “S’really hard.” 

“Oh, Steven, I miss him, too,” his mother cries, walking over to hold him tight in her arms, “He loved you so much.” 

It’s the most comfort he’s felt in months. 

8 AM - Christmas Eve, 1996

“Makin’ a list, he’s checkin’ it twice…” Steve mumbles to himself, going over his charts for the morning leg of the day. He flicks his eyes up to Darlene at the admin desk. She’s in her late forties, gray lacing through her dark brown hair. She wears a new holiday theme brooch on her cardigan every day, resting on her heavy bosom. She carries her weight in her rosy cheeks and her big thighs. Her husband comes in every lunch break to give her a kiss and picks her up every night at five.  “Where’s your name this year Darlene,” he asks with a wink, “Were you naughty or nice?” 

Darlene, who’d never been immune to Harrington charm, smiles big and waves him off, “You better stop that before my husband comes through that door.” 

“You didn’t answer my question,” he smirks, leaning over the counter, “Were you naughty or nice? Bet I could guess.” 

He runs a hand through his hair, always half surviving double shifts on the thrill of flustering the married women in administration. Darlene’s face turns red as she turns to the computer in front of her, “I was very nice this year, Steve.” 

“I’ll take your word for it,” he shrugs with a knowing glance, swiping another chart out of the file holder and giving it a once over, “I won’t be around at five to ask Gary.” 

“Oh, I saw you got the night off – who’s luckier than you?” she asks, “Gotta hot date or something?” 

Steve snickers, “I could never play around with your heart like that, Darlene.” 

She focuses on her work but shakes her head again while he continues, “Having some people over at my house. Parents are in Hawai’i again so –” he shrugs, “Just haven’t had some of the holiday off in a few years.” 

“Night shift tomorrow?” she asks. He nods with a deep breath while he looks over the white board on the wall past Darlene’s head. 

“Arthur’s coming in today?” Steve asks with a furrowed brow, looking at the patient list, “Isn’t he all good? He was in remission six months ago.” 

“Oh yeah, he’s got a biopsy this afternoon – can you imagine? A biopsy on Christmas Eve?” Darlene asks, looking at the list with him, “Just routine, though. I’m sure he’ll be excited to see you.” 

“Sure his wife will be, too,” Steve winks again and Darlene shoots him a look. 

“Will you go do your job please, before I call security!” she teases, “I know what list you’re on this year, Harrington. You’re on my list!” 

Steve laughs, adjusting his glasses and slinging this stethoscope around the back of his neck, charts tucked neatly under his arm. He’d been at the hospital a couple of years and even though his dad wished he was a doctor and not a nurse, he preferred this gig. It was all about making people feel good. He never had to give bad news, all he never had to do was just be there. All he ever had to do was be kind. 

He loved the nurses that took care of his grandpa when he was sick, they were there all the way to the end. Steve made friends with all of them, especially Georgia – who called him a little heartbreaker and was always trying to convince his mom to let him have a playdate with her daughter. Steve thought Georgia was a whole lot of woman – spitfire red hair, the kind of nurse you found in dirty magazines. He guessed her daughter was just as pretty. He wouldn’t know, he never got a chance to meet her. 

Arthur was a lot like Steve’s dad when they first met. Scrooge-like, a curmudgeon, not one nice word to say to anyone but his wife. 

November, 1995

“Why do they got a male nurse in here for? What’s the issue kid, bein’ a doctor too hard? You a fruitcake or somethin’?” Arthur’s voice was gruff and angry, huffing and puffing into his mask while his oxygen pump wheezed above his head. He’d just gotten out of surgery for a chemo port in his chest, so the last thing he wanted to do was be greeted with a nurse he wasn’t able to flirt with.

“Oh Artie, will you just relax? You’re gonna have an aneurysm,” his wife chides.

“Of course you don’t care that he’s a guy, Dottie,” Arthur grumbles under his breath. 

“Mr. Robbins, I get that you hate that I’m a guy,” Steve starts with a smile, “But if I don’t get your vitals you’re gonna be spending a lot more time with me than you want.” 

“Please, take your time,” Dottie says softly, “Don’t listen to him. He’s such a grump.” 

Arthur tosses her a look, it’s almost cartoonish. His frown pushes his jowls further down his face, deepening the creases by his nose. His furrowed brow in a permanent scowl from the deepened wrinkles in his forehead. 

Arthur’s life reads on his leathered skin and perfectly parted hair. Still styled like he was stuck in the 50s, covered in pomade – the silver shining in the fluorescent lights above them. A set of dog tags hung on a chain, slipping over the dipping collar of his hospital gown.

“World war two?” Steve asked, casting his eyes over to them while he wrapped the blood pressure cuff around Arthur’s arm. 

“And Korea,” Arthur wheezed, listening to the hiss of the cuff get tighter and then release, “Met my wife when she came over to sing for the boys.” 

“Thanks for your service,” Steve nods, while he writes Arthur’s stats down on his clipboard. He’s not sure if he’s thanking Arthur or his wife, he might as well thank them both. 

“Did you have any family in the war?” Dottie asked, crossing her legs. Dot was a winner, her hair a salon dark brown but the smile lines in her cheeks and the crinkles by her eyes showed her age. She wore a dark brown fur coat and carried a black leather handbag with a gold clasp that Steve was sure she’d kept in mint condition for the forty years she’s had it. 

“My grandpa fought in World War Two, too,” he smiled, “My mom was born in ‘45, though, so he didn’t volunteer for Korea.” 

“Well, thank him for his service from us, too,” Dottie says warmly. 

“He’s no longer with us,” Steve says, still smiling, “He passed away in ‘81 – but I’ll send a prayer up to him from you.” 

“Heh, if this thing keels me over, I’ll say ‘hi’ to your grandpa for ya instead,” Arthur lets out a grumbly, dark, chuckle.

“Oh, honey, I’m so sorry for your loss,” Dot coos, tossing a reproachful look at her husband. Her voice sounds like it was made for the movies. 

“Will you stop chattin’ him up and let him do his damn job?” Arthur growled. 

“Stop being such a big baby, Artie. You want me to get you some water?” she asked her husband sweetly, “I’m about to go grab a coffee for myself.” 

“Yeah, fine,” Arthur grumbled.

“Looks like that port went in okay,” Steve says to himself, inspecting the small contraption on Artie’s chest, “Everything feeling alright?” 

“I’m fine,” he huffed. 

Steve shook his head, scribbling down a few more things on the chart at the end of the bed, “I believe it, sir.”

“You from around here?” Steve asks, hoping to strike up a small conversation. They’d definitely be seeing a lot more of each other. 

“From Florida,” Arthur wheezes again, “My son and his wife, n’ my grandson all moved up here for some job she got. He’s some stay at home dad, can you believe it? ‘Least you sorta made somethin’ of yourself.”

Steve doesn’t respond, just nodding along. 

“Well anyway – hmmmff – s’cuse me,” Arthur coughs roughly, it sounds his Steve’s grandpa’s cough from when he was a kid, “Anyway, Dot couldn’t bear to be away from her boy so, here we are. Got here, two months later I got cancer – so, Indiana’s working out great for me.”

“Sorry to hear that,” Steve says earnestly, looking up from the board, “Your son comin’ in at all?” 

“Nah,” Artie makes a face, shaking his head, “That boy doesn’t talk to me. Prob’ly happy I’m sick.” 

“Oh, I doubt that–” Steve starts, but Artie let’s out a laugh. 

“Oh, I’m not worried,” Arthur’s chuckle is gravelly and deep in his throat, “I’m the meanest son of a bitch you’ll ever meet – and if anything’s true in this life kid, mean people never die.” 

Christmas Eve, 1995

“Well I’ll be back shortly, honey,” Dottie chirped while Arthur got his port hooked up to his tubing. She nearly knocked Steve over when he came into the room. 

“Oh, Steven, honey! I’m so clumsy! Merry Christmas,” she beams, rubbing his arm affectionately.

“You’re okay, Mrs. Robbins,” Steve says with a wink, “You’re leaving so soon?” 

“Just running out for a few last minute gifts! Gonna grab the Grinch here some cookies from my son’s house for him to snack on later,” she lists, “Can I get you anything, dear?” 

“I’m perfect, Mrs. Robbins, thank you though,” his dentist perfect smile makes her blush. 

“Steven, I keep telling you to please call me Dottie,” she huffs, pulling her coat on, “Mrs Robbins sounds so…ugh, so old.” 

“Ah, yes, don’t call her by her married name Steve. She’ll remember how married she is,” Arthur grumbled from his chair, a low chuckle shaking his shoulders. 

“Oh, stop,” Dottie teases, opening the door, “I’ll be back in a bit, I’ll see you both soon.” 

“You keep flirtin’ with my wife I’m gonna die a divorcee,” Arthur joked while she disappeared down the hall. 

“Well if it weren’t for you still kicking around here, she’d be more of a Mrs. Robinson to me than Mrs. Robbins,” Steve smirks into Arthur’s file, “The ladies love me here.” 

“God, don’t I know it – you’re everywhere, kid,” Artie rolls his eyes, “Whenever the girls are in here fussing over me they’re always checkin’ the board to see when your shift starts. I tell ‘em every time, ‘Will you shut up about that Harrington boy? I hear enough about him at home!” 

“Sees you when you’re sleeping, knows when you’re awake,” Steve shrugs, “Might as well be Santa Clause, huh?” 

“You doin’ anything for the holiday?” Arthur asks, he sits up a little, slowly. He’s gotten weaker with the chemo, it shows in his eyes. It shows in the growing softness in his voice. It shows in the thinness of his skin, olive green veins bleeding through a tan film. He’s thinner now, more fragile – it reminds Steve of the hospital in ‘81. His grandfather’s hands lying there, rigid and waxy. 

“You’re lookin’ at it, Artie,” Steve mumbles, adjusting the levels on the machines next to him. 

“Even tomorrow? What about your folks?” 

“My parents are in Hawai’i,” he lets a chuckle out in puffs of air from his nose, but Arthur knows it’s not a happy one, “I don’t really talk to my dad, much.” 

“You and my boy would get along -hhhgggack- get along great,” Arthur wheezes into another coughing fit. 

“Probably,” Steve laughs, “We both don’t like you.” 

Arthur’s coughs turn into barking laughs, loud enough that other attendants are craning their heads to look over at him. 

“Oh Harrington, you’re funny,” Arthur says, wiping his eyes, “You’re real funny.” 

The early evening rolls around and Arthur’s treatment finishes up just on time. Lung cancer was hard, but lung cancer with COPD and emphysema was a little worse. Steve was surprised that they were already starting to see some progress on the tumor after three weeks – maybe Dottie had a deal with someone upstairs. No one in heaven was looking out for Arthur Robbins. 

Steve undoes the connection to his port, starting the wrap up, singing softly to himself. 

“Please have snow, and mistletoe, and presents by the tree…”

“That’s Dorothy’s favorite Christmas song,” Arthur hums, staring down at his feet. 

“Yeah? Was my grandpa’s too,” Steve says, grabbing Arthur’s coat from the chair and passing it to him, “He used to sing it to me every Christmas Eve, just sort of kept up with the tradition.” 

“We do the same for my grandson,” Arthur smiles, “It’s better as a duet. You should really hear Dottie sing – the pipes on her she just –” 

“Hi, so sorry I’m late!” 

As if summoned by the angels themselves, Dottie rushes into the room, gifts in hand. Arthur stands up, slowly putting on his coat and scarf, picking up his portable oxygen (which was hardly portable for a man his age). 

“Stevie, here,” she says with a smile, handing him a gift bag, “It’s not much, but I notice you always just come in with a coat on and I’d love for you to stay a little warmer, honey.” 

Steve melts, opening the tissue to see a red wool scarf and a pair of gloves nestled inside, “Dottie, you didn’t have to get me anything. That’s so sweet, thank you.” 

“Merry Christmas, Steve, we’ll see you soon,” Dottie presses a kiss to his cheek, Arthur rolls his eyes. 

“See you in the new year, Harrington,” Arthur says gruffly while he shuffles out of the room with Dot. 

“I’ll see you Monday,” Steve corrects, putting his file in the holder by the door. 

1PM - Christmas Eve, 1996

“Merry Christmas Artie, I got you a biopsy,” Steve cheers as he walks into Arthur’s room. 

“Oh, there’s my boy,” Arthur laughs, it’s hearty but he still wheezes, the tubes in his nose shake against his face. Steve comes in for a hug, completely missing the two people in the corner of the room. A man in his forties or fifties, and a boy around ten or eleven next to him. 

“Hi there,” Steve says, adjusting his glasses and putting his hand out, “I’m Steve, I was your dad’s nurse when he was here for treatment – and uh, I guess I’m his nurse today, too.” 

“Mark,” the older man says, he doesn’t smile, “We’re not staying long.” 

“This is my grandson, Mikey,” Arthur says, gesturing to the boy. Steve looks at him and his curly hair, his wire rim glasses that look like his own and his heart leaps.

“Hey Mikey,” Steve puts his hand out for a low five, “Merry Christmas.” 

“Merry Christmas,” Mikey says back, slapping his hand against Steve’s. He watches Mark start leading Mikey to the door and he cocks his head. 

“I’m just taking his vitals, you’re welcome to stay,” Steve says gently. 

“We’ll be back tomorrow,” Mark says with finality, “Say bye to grandpa, Mikey.” 

Mikey runs over, reaching over the bed on his tiptoes to pull Arthur into a hug, “I love you grandpa, I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?” 

“Okay,” Arthur smiles, “I love you, too.”

He watches them go and Steve turns back to him. 

“Where’s Dottie?” 

Arthur smiles at him with downturned eyes, “We lost Dot in August, Harrington.” 

“Oh, no. Artie, I’m so sorry,” Steve apologizes, leaning against the end of the hospital bed. 

“Still looked like a movie star down to the last day,” Arthur says with soft eyes, “Had me put her lipstick on the morning of, like she had someone to go meet in Heaven. I says, ‘Honey, I’m still here! Who’re you trying to look pretty for?’ She tells me she just wants to look pretty for me. Can you believe that? I’m just some schmuck she married.” 

“She probably lied to you,” Steve teased. 

Arthur swats at him with a grin, “She probably did.” 

“Things okay with your son?” Steve asks, unfurling the blood pressure cuff. 

“Nah,” Arthur shakes his head, “Mike though? That kid really is somethin’. He’s so friggin’ smart. Knows everything about computers and shit – even started teaching me how to use one. He’s ten! He’s gonna be – I don’t know, flyin’ rocket ships or somethin’ when he grows up.”

“You living with them?” 

“No, no, still at the house. Can’t part with Dot’s stuff – y’know? So much of her is still there. She decorated the whole place. S’like I’m still comin’ home to her when I do,” he smiles up at Steve and Steve follows suit. 

“You miss her?” he asks, the answer is obvious. 

“Like the deserts miss the rain,” Arthur declares gently, Steve notices the soft heave in his chest. 

“So what’s the deal, Artie, what’s the biopsy for?” 

“You’re the nurse, you should know!” Arthur laughs in surprise, “Whaddya mean what’s the biopsy for?” 

Steve rolls his eyes while Arthur wheezes back to speaking, “I’m kidding, I’m kidding. They found a spot – I got a scan back in Florida, we were there for a couple months. It’s not big, but better safe than – y’know – cancer. But honestly kid, it’s nothing. I’m not worried about it.” 

“Neither am I,” Steve nods. They go through the motions of his surgery prep, vitals, the works. They make jokes and share stories – it’d been a long six months. It was hard to leave each other – but his remission was a blessing. He’d become a different man in that year. They both had. 

“I’m heading out around three today, so I won’t be back until tomorrow,” Steve says. 

“Aw, c’mon, you’re supposed to be my Christmas buddy!” Arthur complains, “My son’s basically having me fuck off until he gets me tomorrow. Stick around!” 

“You want me to stick around or do you want Sara-Jean to be your night nurse?” Steve smirks. Sara-Jean was real pretty. Pretty enough that Steve had pulled her into a few empty rooms to play doctor every now and again. 

“Oh, you can get the fuck out right now if you want,” Arthur’s chortle is scratchy when it comes out. Steve missed that, and the soft puffs of his portable tank in the background. 

3PM - Christmas Eve, 1996

“Barb, did you hear about Darlene?” Steve asks while he gets to the admin desk. Darlene ‘tsks’ under her breath while she types away. 

“Did I hear what?” Barb asks, tossing a look at Darlene, “What’d she do?” 

“Well I talked to the big guy, y’know?” he says, tugging on his jacket, wrapping a red wool scarf around his neck, “Turns out, she’s on the naughty list.” 

“Ooh, Darlene! We better call Gary!” Barb teases with a laugh, opening a filing cabinet under the desk. 

“Don’t you have somewhere to be, Steven?” Darlene whips her head around with a laugh, “Go home!” 

“I know someone on the naughty list isn’t telling me what to do,” he tutts with a sly smirk. 

He slaps a hand playfully on the counter, “Someone oughta teach her a lesson, huh Barb?” 

“You’re pushin’ your luck here, Harrington,” Barb says, emerging from below the desk with a stack of files, “You’re luckin Gary’s not here to knock you into ‘98.” 

Steve smiles, waving to the women, “If I don’t see either of you tomorrow afternoon, Merry Christmas.” 

“Merry Christmas,” they call back. 

Steve pops his head into Arthur’s room, still waiting to go in for surgery. 

“Hey, Merry Christmas, Artie,” he says. 

“Hey, Harrington,” Arthur says, beckoning him over, “C’mere for a second.” 

“Yeah, what’s up?” Steve asked, walking to the edge of his bed. 

“I got a gift for Mikey that got delivered to my house this morning, my neighbor brought it in for me. But since I’m gonna be here overnight I was wondering if you could grab it and bring it in for me tomorrow? I just wanna tell ‘im Santa dropped it off so this whole thing doesn’t bum him out. I’m sure ya already got plans but I’d really appreciate it.” 

“No, no, of course,” Steve shakes his head, “I’ll go pick it up. What’s the gift?” 

Arthur smiles a knowing, grandfatherly smile, “He’s been begging Mark for a Nintendo 64 for since September – and they’ve been sold out everywhere. They can’t really afford stuff like that anyway, so Mark’s been telling him to ‘manage expectations’. Pfft.” 

“Think I’d ever tell my grandson to manage his expectations?” Arthur asks, Steve swears he hears his own grandfather saying it. “So I used the lessons Mikey gave me about the computer and I found it on this website called E-bay – hefty fuckin’ markup I’ll tell ya that. Now, I had to go to the library to find out how to really order it but, y’know, here it is. Who’d a thought you could just click a button and get something sent to your house, huh? Friggin’ magic.” 

Steve’s heart swells, “That’s really nice, Arthur.” 

“He’s a good kid, he deserves it. And y’know, Mark could use a break – he really could,” Arthur nods, considering for a moment, “He really loves his boy – so I think it’s sort of a gift for him, too.” 

“Well, I’ll give ya a call when I pick it up, okay?” Steve asks, walking back toward the door. Arthur nods, jotting the address down and passing it to him. 

“Thanks a lot Harrington,” he smiles, stopping him while Steve gets to the door, “And nice scarf.” 

Steve winks and pats the wall as he leaves. 

7PM - Christmas Eve, 1996

“Well I don’t know what you want me to tell you,” Robin confesses, “If she didn’t get you a gift, she probably doesn’t like you like that.” 

“What do you know about girls liking you back anyway, Buckley?” Eddie frowns, playfully tossing a red M&M at her on the couch. 

“Hey, hey, be nice,” Steve says, holding his hand out to Eddie who fills it with M&Ms. 

“You look so tired, Steve,” Nancy frowns, “How many shifts did you pull to get tonight off?” 

Steve shrugs, tossing his head back on the cushions of the couch, “I don’t know, too many.” 

The door opens and the kids file in. They aren’t kids anymore, Steve guesses, but they might as well be. 

“Party people! Merry Christmas!” Lucas calls, head of the line to file in followed by a deeply embarrassed Max. She has a big bag full of shiny wrapped boxes in her arms but before Steve can scold her about presents, she shoots him a look that could kill him dead. 

Henderson comes in after, immediately running to Eddie first, also carrying a bag of gifts. 

“Merry Christmas, folks,” he announces with a smile while passing out gift bags one by one. 

“Guys, I said–” Steve starts. 

“Shut up, nerd,” Erica says, walking in the door with Will and El flanking either side of her. Mike follows up at the end, closing the door behind him. 

“You say no gifts every year and we never listen to you, so,” Erica continues, crossing her arms and looking down at him from behind the couch, “Merry Christmas, though.” 

“Merry Christmas, Sinclair,” he says up at her. 

“Merry Christmas, Lady Apple Jack,” Eddie calls from the other end of the sectional. 

“There’s food all laid out in the kitchen,” Nancy calls to them. Steve yawns, sitting up and watching the group move as a unit to the kitchen, dropping their gifts off under the tree on the way. He looks around, a smile creeping onto his face, a Christmas that finally feels like family. Like home. Like he’s seven years old. 

His eyes zero in on the Nintendo 64 on the side table and his heart skips. 

“Shit, I’ll be right back, I gotta make a phone call.” 

Steve heads upstairs to his room, dialing to hospital without even looking at the numbers, counting the rings down to the second for Barb’s voice to pick up. 

“Hey Barb, it’s Steve. Can you transfer me to Artie Robbins’ room? He feelin’ okay?” he asks. 

“Uh, yeah, let me double ch– Hey, is Mr. Robbins out of surge–he is? Okay, okay – alright honey, let me transfer you over.” 

Steve holds his breath while the phone rings, letting it out when Arthur’s scratches through the phone, “Hello?” 

“Artie, hey, it’s Steve. Your gift is secured.” 

“Oh, good, good –hhgggack-, s’cuse me,” Arthur coughs wetly, Steve can hear him spit on the other end, “Sorry about that.” 

“Hey, don’t worry man. How was um, how was surgery, how’s it lookin’?” Steve asks, heart thumping in his chest. 

“Well um…” Arthur trails off, another wet, hacking cough echoes through the line, “Y’know I uh – I got some bad news for you, Harrington.” 

“Oh shit, Arthur…Arthur I’m so sorry,” Steve starts, “We can start you right back up on –” 

“I can’t believe you’d lie to me like that, Harrington,” he confesses, ignoring Steve’s apologies, his voice grinding with phlegm. 

“What? I didn’t – what do you –” sweat formed on his brow. Why did he tell him it was gonna be fine? He’s just a fucking nurse, how would he know? 

“Sara-Jean wasn’t my night nurse,” Arthur says, exasperated, “It’s some old broad I’ve never met before.” 

Arthur laughs and it gets caught in his throat like a wheeze, Steve lets out a long breath through his nose. 

“You’re such a fuckin’ asshole,” Steve chuckles, rubbing his eyes under his glasses, “You almost gave me a heart attack, Jesus Christ.” 

“Merry, merry, Harrington,” he says, “See ya tomorrow.” 

“Do you want me to wrap it?” Steve asks, “The gift?” 

“Hey, if you’re offering – I don’t gotta pay you for that, right? They gonna add that to my bill?” 

“Actually, I’m gonna make sure they charge you double,” Steve smiles through the phone, hearing Arthur’s breathy laugh one more time before he says goodnight and hangs up. Steve heads back down stairs, the group all around the living room. 

“Here,” Robin calls, beckoning him over and patting a seat next to her, “I’m gonna put on Miracle at 34th Street.” 

“Why? It’s boring,” Mike frowns. 

“Cause it’s your sister’s favorite and she made all the food, dumbass,” Steve snap at him, walking over to the couch, not resisting the urge to give him a soft smack across his mop of hair. 

Eddie giggles, “Yeah, don’t be such a dumbass, Wheeler.” 

8PM - Christmas Eve, 1996

Beep beep. Beep beep. Bzz.

Beep beep. Beep beep. Bzz.

The group looks over at Steve who immediately reaches back into his pocket, beeper lighting up and buzzing. He squints down at it, the hospital’s number flashing below, “Ugh, shit. They’re really calling me in now?” 

“Just don’t go,” Eddie said, “They gave you the night off for a reason. Can’t they call someone else?” 

“That’s not really how it works Munson,” he mumbles, “Sorry guys, I gotta go um –” 

He looks around the room, eyes scanning everyone before they land on Nancy, “Nance can you just make sure everything’s locked up before you leave?” 

She nods, Henderson’s voice calling over the TV, “Why do you always ask Nancy?” 

“Do you really think I’d trust any of you other twerps to do it?” he asks with a laugh, pulling his coat on and wrapping the scarf around his neck, “Merry Christmas, guys.” 

The traffic was low, everyone home and inside, cozy with their families while he races back up to the hospital. He lets out a sigh, exhaustion rolling over him in waves like he hadn’t worked three days in a row – the twelves hours he had off would’ve been a great welcome. Before he knows it, he pulls into staff parking, still in his scrubs, hurrying into the lobby. 

“What’s up Barb,” he asks, “What’s goin’ on?” 

“Oh, honey…” she says, her frown tells him enough. 

“What’s happening, what’s wrong with him?” Steve asks, his body felt like he’d been dunked in ice water. In his peripheral he can see Arthur’s doctor come up behind him. 

“Steve I – I’m sorry,” he says. 

“What’s happening, what’s going on?” Steve eyes, nose prickling with heat, the back of his throat getting thick. 

“He’s hemorrhaging,” the doctor said, “It’s happening slowly, but we can’t stop it…he’s not gonna make it, Steve.” 

“Well you gotta, like, you can do something,” Steve says, a hurt smile pulling at his lips, “Like, there’s gotta be something that can stop it.” 

“There’s nothing we can do, Steve,” he confesses, putting a hand on his shoulder, “He wants to go.” 

“Well, um,” Steve swallows thickly, “Can you – has anyone called his son? Or? Where’s his family?” 

“They aren’t coming,” Barb says, shaking her head. Tears pooled in her eyes, “He asked if we’d call you.” 

“How much t-time does he have?” Steve gasps out, breath coming out of him in short spurts. Shoulders rising and falling unsteadily. 

“Not much,” the doctor says, “You should go see him.” 

Steve nods, numb, dizzy, the floor spins under him and suddenly he’s fourteen again – sitting in the waiting room with his dad while his mom wails outside the door. 

He gets to the room and opens the door slowly, Arthur laying there covered in tubes – with every blink it’s 1981 all over again. 

“Hey, Artie,” Steve says softly. He see’s Arthurs eyes flit toward him, a twitch of a hand standing in for a wave. Steve pulls a chair over and sits next to him, the healthy man he’d seen just hours before suddenly paled, older than he’d ever seen him. 

“Hey -hmmmfff- Harrington,” he pushes out. Pulling in a big, strained, wheezing breath between the words. It sounded like it hurt to breathe – but with only one weak lung working at this point, the other filling with blood, Steve assumed it must be. 

“Shh, shh,” Steve coos, “You don’t have to talk.” 

He sits there for a moment, listening to the beep of the EKG, the whoosh of air from the oxygen machine. Steve watches the drip of the IV drip – morphine. Arthur’s eyes are drowsy, but they still sparkle playfully at him. 

A lump builds in Steve’s throat while he watches him, he feels guilty taking deep breaths to keep from crying. He’s not sure how much longer he’ll be able to hold back. 

“Aw, come on man, you were – ugh, fuck – thought you were too mean to die,” Steve asked between sniffles. He tries to blink back his tears but they finally spring out of him, leaking down his cheeks. 

“Well –hhhmmmfff- look what m-meeting you -hmmmfff- got me, k-kid,” Arthur laughs through labored, shallow, breaths, “One good -hhhmmfff- de-deed and I’m k-kicking the buck-bucket –hmmmff-. 

Steve takes his hand, holding it tight, a shuddering breath hitting his lungs before he breaks, “I’m s-sorry your s-son’s not coming.”

“S’okay I don’t want -hhhmmfff– Mikey to -hhmmfff- see me like th-this,” he gasps out, eyes lulling, breaths getting farther and few in between. 

“You think -hmmfff- Dot’s st-still gonna think I -hhhmmmff- look sh-sharp?” 

“Oh, for sure,” Steve cries into a laugh, “She’d probably still think I look sharper.” 

Arthur lets out a weak wheeze of a laugh, using whatever left over strength he has to push a half smile onto his face. 

“I’ll say -hhmmff– hi to your gr-grandpa –hhmmff- for you,” he whispers. Steve nods, squeezing his hand, wiping his face with the other. 

“He’ll thi-think you’re a real p-piece of work,” Steve jokes, his thumb grazing comfortingly over Arthur’s hand. 

They sit there in silence, outside of Arthur’s labored breathing and the monitors beeping, Steve’s sniffling and shuddering cries. 

“-hhhmmmff– H-harrington?”

“Yeah?” 

“Sing the song.” 

Steve doesn’t have to ask which he means, his heart breaks as he looks at the clock – 9 PM – right when his grandpa would bring him off to bed. 

“Sure, Artie,” Steve promises, “Sure.” 

“Christmas Eve will find me…”

“As the love light gleams…”

“I’ll be home fo– Oh, no…no, Artie. Arthur c’mon, c’mon man.”

The monitor holds a steady note, and against it, a rattle Steve knows all too well. 

Christmas Day, 1996 

Steve got home late but Nancy, Robin, and Eddie were still there when he got in. “How’d you know?” Steve asked, eyes red behind his specs. 

“Your girlfriend Barb called,” Robin joked, pulling him into a hug. The rest followed suit, pressing against him so that maybe the pressure would relieve him of his grief. They all stayed the night, they saved cookies for him, a plate of snacks, dinner. They stayed up until he was fast asleep – all sneaking out quietly the next morning to spend time with their families. 

Steve woke up around nine in the morning, blearily peering around the living room. He must’ve fallen asleep on the couch, glasses laid neatly on the side table and a note from Nancy. His eyes lingered on the present for Mikey, he heaved a deep and heavy sigh. 

Steve got up and took a quick shower, hoping the water would take his aching along with it down the drain. It didn’t, but it woke him up a little. He didn’t bother getting dressed, just getting back into his scrubs from the night before, slapping on some deodorant and cologne before trudging back downstairs. 

He took his time to wrap the gift, folding over the edges of the paper and sealing it seamlessly. The North Pole would’ve hired him in a heartbeat if they could get a look at this wrap job. 

He pulled on his coat, his red wool scarf, and tugged the present under his arm while he walked to the car. He pulled out a small piece of paper from his coat pocket, his own sloppy writing looking back at him with Mark’s address scrawled on it. It was a twenty minute drive – it felt like an eternity. 

He rang the bell and knocked on the door, and even though he knew they were home he was still surprised to see Mark open it, his wife next to him. 

“Hey, Mr. Robbins,” Steve says softly, “Sorry to come by but um – I know this must be a really hard day for you both, but –” 

“It’s okay. Um, Steve – right?” Mark guesses, Steve nods. Mark looked worse for wear, “This was dad’s nurse at the hospital.” 

“Hi,” his wife murmurs, “Merry Christmas.” 

“Merr–” 

“Dad, who is it?” Mikey calls, pushing between his parents, “Oh hey, you’re that guy from yesterday.” 

Steve guessed it must be hard to really dampen the magic of Christmas for a ten year old, even if his grandpa just died. 

“Hey buddy, you’re actually the guy I wanted to see,” Steve said with a smile, kneeling down to get closer to his level. 

“I found this on the desk in the lobby at the hospital,” he says, looking down at the box, holding it out in front of him, “It’s addressed to you, looks like it’s from Santa.”  Mikey frowns, and at a closer look, it’s clear Mikey had just as rough of a night as his dad had. His lower lip wobbles slightly but he quickly straightens it out. 

“Santa isn’t real,” Mikey says defiantly, crossing his arms. 

“Who told you that?” Steve asks, his brows furrowed. 

“No one told me,” Mikey mumbles softly, “I told Santa that all I wanted for Christmas was for my grandpa to get better. And he didn’t…so…” 

“Well if Santa’s not real, then how did he call me this morning?” Steve asks with a smile.

“What?” Mikey asks, eyes shining with excitement. 

“He told me he left this at the hospital because he thought you were still there,” Steve explains, “So he asked if I could bring it to you. It was something you really wanted, he told me.” 

“Oh man, is this –” he takes the box from Steve, it’s a little too heavy for him, “Is this what I think it is?!” 

“I don’t know, dude, you gotta open it!” Steve laughs. Mikey sits right on the ledge of the front door, Mark and his wife behind him. The paper rips away to reveal the Nintendo 64 Mikey had begged for since it came out in September. 

“WOW! Dad look! Santa saw it on my list! He didn’t forget! I can’t believe it!” 

Steve stands back up to see Mark, his red eyes pooling with tears. 

“Honey, why don’t you come with me and I’ll see how we can set it up,” Mark’s wife says to Mikey, taking the box from him. Mikey runs inside and his mom gives Steve a small wave, wishing him a Merry Christmas.

“S’that from my dad?” Mark asked, wiping his eyes. 

Steve takes his glasses off, wiping his own, “Yeah, he um, ordered it online – if you can believe it.”  They both let out a small, pained, airy chuckle. Two men who are suddenly boys. Red noses and cheeks. 

“He asked if I’d bring it to him to give to Mikey but um, y’know.” 

Mark nods, face contorting while he tries to hold back a sob, “Merry Christmas, man.”  Steve puts his hand out to shake it, but Mark pulls him into a tight hug where they both fall apart, “I’m so sorry, Mark. I’m just so sorry.” 

They stay embraced for a few minutes before breaking apart, both taking deep breaths while they settle. Two boys who know what it’s like to not understand their dads. Two boys who know better now. 

“You’re a very kind man, Steve,” Mark says, “Thank you so much, for – for this.” 

“Thank you,” Steve says gently, “I hope you and your family are able to have a good holiday.” 

They say their goodbyes and Steve takes his keys from his pocket, swinging them into his hand. He gets in the driver’s seat of the BMW, the leather quickly cooled over. He watches Mark shut the door behind him and takes a cleansing breath through his nose and out through his mouth, putting the key into the ignition. 

The heat blasts and he pulls out onto the road, flicking the radio on. 

He chuckles sadly to himself, eyes closing briefly behind his glasses at the coincidence, while the radio crackles to life. 

“Merry Christmas, guys,” he says, staring up at the sky through the windshield. 

Bing Crosby’s voice fills the car, and Steve’s red, wool scarf feels warmer than it ever has around his neck.

“Christmas Eve will find me. As the love light gleams. I’ll be home for Christmas… 

If only in my dreams.”