#I’m writing this after getting off the phone with Amber (my college bestie)

[shippingfangirl013]

Getting older sucks.

It’s “I made my first friend in that elementary school classroom,”

And “I used to sit on those swings with my first childhood friend, playing make-believe and talking about the newest movie we wanted to go see,”

It’s “I used to get off the bus with you after school and stay at your house every other night because I didn’t want what my parents were having for dinner,”

It’s “We used to have sleepovers in my room, and I remember that I loved going to your house because it meant playing with our American Girl dolls. We’re in the same family, but I saw you more than half my friends sometimes. I miss seeing you now, even though we only live 10 minutes away, it still feels like the years have crept between us.”

And “We met in 4th grade, but I’ve known you all my life. You knew my first crush and I knew yours. You loved Sam Winchester and I loved Dean. We sat on the benches at recess, reading books about Helen Keller and talking about how excited we were to play the violin next year. Gavin always went on about how he loved some tv show with monsters off of Cartoon Network while we read. You loved One Direction, Harry Styles was your first love, I’m sorry for that fight we had in 7th grade, I was an asshole and I hope you know that I love you, I wish you never dealt with half the shit life has thrown at you, I’m sorry that I was too young to understand how to handle the sinking grief that you went through in 8th grade, I promise you that I would take it all away if I could, I’m sorry for ignoring you when you told me my first serious boyfriend wasn’t actually a nice guy. I should have listened to you. I’m sorry I let him get between us.”

It’s “you were mean to me, but I miss you. We were young, but I don’t think that you’re a bad person anymore. I loved your art and I hope you still create wondrous works. You inspired me to start drawing, and I’m grateful for that. I miss watching Dan and Phil with you, and Michael Clifford will always remind me of you. Thank you for sitting next to me in the classes we had together, I’m glad we had lunch together too, I felt less alone eating crappy high school lunches with you before Spanish class. I hope you’re doing okay, and I know we talk from time to time, but I miss seeing your face.”

And “I loved you. You broke me. I have nothing to say to you for what you did to me, but I remember the way that your freckles danced around your face, curving upwards towards the sun when you smiled that lopsided grin at me. We were young and stupid, and I thought that was what love was. I know that I was mean to you too, and I want you to know that I’m sorry for that. I wanted forever with you, I didn’t even know you, I loved you, but even the brightest blaze of fire can turn cold in the dampened wet of winter.”

It’s “I met you in college, but you are someone who has never hurt me. Your laughter is like the musical notes you play on the flute, you are sharp and witty and I’d go to the ends of the world with you, only if you wanted to. We survived freshman year together. You handed me Kleenex at 3 am and held my hair back when I got too drunk. You walked me home with some of our friends, and you asked me to look at a magazine after the party and I said that there were people dancing on a trifle cake. You showed me a photo of a Bundt cake with raspberries on top the next morning. You helped me study, even when I was a pain in the ass, and you’ve made me laugh when I’d much rather cry. We rode horses together on weekends when we had time. You helped me get through one of the worst breakups I’ve ever had. I’ve cried on your shoulder more times than I can count, we’ve had more movie nights with friends in the dorms than I can remember. I’m grateful that I always had a travel buddy when it came time to go home for Winter Break. Two hours goes by much quicker when you’re screaming the soundtrack of Frozen II in the car. You reminded me that I’m a good person. You remind me of that a lot, and even though I know that I can be exhausting and hard to handle, you’re always there to lend an ear or offer advice, and if I just need support, I know I can count on you. We always stayed up late on your birthday, midnights during finals week were never boring when your mom sent you a package to open, every item wrapped with care, because she wanted you to celebrate even if you weren’t home yet. You love dragons, and I’m awful at drawing them, but I drew one for you anyways. I’m glad we had an apartment our senior year. I hate that we live 8 hours away. Thank you for introducing me to Mikayla. I’m sorry about the fights that we’ve had. I’m grateful to you and Mikayla for showing me what healthy friendship is.”

And “I’ve known you since 8th grade but we’ve never met in person. I think about you all the time. I’m proud of who you’ve become. Thank you for being such an amazing friend. You’re such an inspiration to me. I wish we lived closer, I wish I could come visit.”

It’s “I haven’t talked to you in a while. We FaceTimed every day after school in high school. You’re engaged now, and I’m so happy for you. I hope he treats you well, I’m sorry I live so far away, I want you to have everything you want in life. I came to your graduation party, I was so excited when you came to my house and surprised me. I miss you, I hope you’re doing okay. I know I’m awful at texting back, I need to text you more.”

And “I read your eulogy at your service. I hope I did right by you. I wanted to honor your memory, and somehow, the right words came to me after crying over blank paper for hours. I hate that you’re gone. I hate that I can’t talk to you anymore. I don’t know how to live without you.

(How do I live without you?)

I hope I honored you and your memory with what I wrote. . . I hope everyone knows how much I love and miss you. I hope you know how much I love you. If there is a Heaven, say hi to Molly and Monica for me. Say hi to Mavi and Bear and Precious too. I listen to Taylor Swift all of the time now. I listen to One Direction too.

You were my first real friend. And that’s not to say I didn’t have friends before, but you were the first that stuck around. It was like Lilo and Stitch, times two. We found each other and became friends, and then in 4th grade, I picked Sam to become friends with… and then we were a trio. I remember all of the trouble we got into… it feels like yesterday.

(God, how I wish it were yesterday, because then you’d still be here.)

Your grandparents cried when I came over to pick up your stuff. I cried when your grandma gave me your Ron Jon’s hat and that stupid scarf you always wore and damn near strangled me with when we would wrestle with one another. I hugged your cat Harley for you, I wish I had been able to visit your house more. You always wanted to come to mine, and I never knew why, but “your house is more fun than mine,” always came the reply. I never quite believed that, but I didn’t push you.

I started watching Golden Girls, it makes me think of you. Kally is getting older now too, she’s 16, I know that when we were younger, we joked that cats that old went to Star Clan. I hope she goes to live out the rest of her days with you up there, at least I know she’ll be loved and looked after when it’s her time to rest. You were supposed to be in my wedding, but as it stands now, that will be a long ways away.

Life is odd, and it’s always changing, and you of all people, know how much I hate change. (How do I keep living when I’ve lost so many people that I once cared for?)

How do my grandparents do it? Losing friends they’ve known for years? How does anyone do it? Living without the people you thought you’d never lose is the worst feeling ever, and I’m scared to live if it means that everyone I care for could die tomorrow.

I’m glad you were able to love someone and that he was able to love you in return. You deserved a lifetime of happiness. I hope that he knows you passed on, I tried to contact him, but I never asked you for a name.

I can’t sleep some nights knowing that I was the last person you willingly called at 2 in the morning. I hope you can forgive me for not picking up. I miss you more than words can say.

(Do you think if I had been there for you, things would be different? Would you still be here if we hadn’t drifted apart in high school?)

I wish we hadn’t drifted apart in high school.

I wish things didn’t have to end, I wish someone could invent a way to tell when things would come to an end, so I could cling to it more tightly, telling those people how much I love them, how important they are in my life, and how much I loathe change. . .

I wish I never had to read your eulogy. It was the second hardest thing I’ve ever done, missing you, grieving you. . . That’s the first.”

~ a short collection of the people I’ve loved

(This doesn’t even begin to scratch the surface of other new friends that I have and love right now, because I’m lucky to have so many people that care about me & I’m lucky to be able to care about them and get to know them as well.

This just… needed to come out tonight.

And I didn’t really include family in this, but I was more-so focused on friends that I’ve had and lost over the years.)

[darklydeliciousdesires]

Edge of Seventeen - Chapter Ten.

Big thanks to you all for your continued interest, besties :) 

Previous chapters - One  Two  Three  Four  Five  Six  Seven  Eight  Nine

Tag list - In the comments

Words - 4,288

Warnings - 18+ content throughout, minors DNI!

(Note - Bella’s lyrics are not mine, but taken from the Juliet Simms song End of the World. Please give the song a listen for the full immersive effect - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=doRf_tdI48A)

It felt heavy on her finger, the thick, silver band, set with a piece of blue amber. There it was, what she’d always wanted, given to her as a gift from her love. Only one remained. The weight of the ring was her reminder, over what she’d done, her penance, something beautiful edged in sadness, reminding her never to be so stupid again. Some wouldn’t have worn it, but it was too beautiful not to. He’d wanted her to have it, too, regardless of their ending.  

Bella had found the box stashed away in the bag he’d brought with her possessions in it, tucked down right at the bottom with the rest of her jewellery. It had been gift wrapped, something she knew would have been done at the store he bought it from, her birthday present, since Angel was so useless with stuff like that, she used to be surprised he could even tie his own shoelaces at times. He only had dexterity when it came to handling a weapon or a woman.  

Christ, how she missed the latter.  

It had taken her an hour to actually open the box, after reading the tag attached to it. ‘Happy birthday, my sweet baby. You’d better fucking love it, with how long it took me to find it! Kidding!! Your day is gonna be great, because I’m going to be right there to make sure it is. I mean, I’m standing there now, aren’t I? Getting all impatient while you read this card, waiting for you to open the box. SO OPEN IT! Love you always. Angel x’

Except he hadn’t been there. Things had not played out how he’d anticipated they would, when he’d written that gift tag. When she’d finally mustered the courage to undo the bow and paper around the box, seeing the gorgeous, blue amber ring there inside it, she’d cried for an hour, slipping it onto her finger, and not taking it off.  

It had been on for six months, and she’d never take it off. It pinched a little, the filigree band that held the oval stone digging in a bit when she moved her fingers over the frets of her guitar, but still, it remained. It remained, when Angel didn’t.  

She still wasn’t over him.  

Gone were the days of endless tears and anguish, but no matter how much her usual cheer had retuned, it hadn’t come back fully. She was still weighed down a little by it, by her lost love. She knew she had to move forward with her life, though, so threw herself into college and her music, writing endlessly, taking on a couple more shifts at the salon where she could, too.  

Sometimes, she felt like calling him, just to see how he was, or sending a text. She tapped it out on her phone, probably hundreds of times at that point, reading her words, contemplating, only to delete it all and read the last one he’d ever sent her.  

‘I got hella dick pain from you, baby! Fucking worth it, though. Kiss it better later? Love you so much xxxx’  

She would let herself sit and read all the messages they’d ever sent one another every so often, going right back to the beginning of the chain, to when they’d first met. Bella knew it was a pointless exercise, that it only inevitably left her feeling upset, but it was all she had. That and the pictures she couldn’t bear to delete, hundreds of them, of him.  

She’d laugh at some, especially in the messages they’d sent, Angel sending her pictures of an orange Beetle, asking ‘Are you gonna drive this to the chip shop?’ and her sending random bread roll pictures with the accompanying text ‘None in Paris!’ a memory back to her sleep talking that had made him laugh until he’d cried. One particular text had her laughing one evening as she scrolled through, looking at a picture he’d sent from their date at the zoo, Bella and the giraffe.

‘I’m gonna lick your face worse than this mofo did when I see you, baby girl!’

‘Alright, as long as you don’t stink as bad!!’

He’d then sent a picture of himself, his mouth stuffed with Mentos, holding the packet between his teeth.  

‘On it!’

“Oh god, I still miss you so much.” She lamented, her thumb stroking over his image on the screen before closing them, sighing. She still couldn’t even think of dating anyone else, even turning down Tommy Valo, the guy everyone wanted to be with in her class, when he’d asked her for a date. He was her age, he was gorgeous as hell, he was talented, but simply, he wasn’t Angel. She wasn’t ready.  

The man himself differed, though. He wasn’t ready either, but Angel being Angel, had thrown himself into another relationship after taking a couple of months to try and mend from the loss of Bella. Mel was lovely, too. She was sweet and kind, down to earth and funny, everything he looked for. She wasn’t Bella, though.  

“Angel, did you see where I put that cake mix?” she called from the kitchen, Angel turning his attention away from the TV.  

“Cupboard next to the fridge, babe. It’s right at the back, behind the granola,” he confirmed, while emptying change from his wallet. He hated carrying anything other than notes, so filled a huge jar he had over in the corner of the lounge. He and Bella had added to it for months, back when they were together, planning on keeping it going until they had enough for a vacation together, or at the very least, a long weekend away somewhere. “God damnit!” he cussed, dropping half of the handful down the side of the couch cushions, heaving himself up to remove them and dig out the change.  

He found even more in there, along with chip crumbs, dust, and something else he’d thought lost. Bella’s hawk feather earring. Picking up the small feather in his fingers, he smiled sadly, stroking it fondly. “I miss you so much.” he whispered, the sound of Mel clattering around in the kitchen rousing him from the little dreamy state he’d slipped into, pocketing the earring and re-assembling the couch before taking the change to put into the jar.  

“Why you baking so late anyway, mamas?” he asked, moving to the kitchen, wrapping Mel in a hug and kissing her cheek, trying to get his brain back on track, back to the woman he was with, and not the girl he had to lose.  

“I have the munchies, and they’re all kicking my ass in the direction of something sweet!” she turned in his arms, kissing him before moving to the fridge to retrieve the eggs. “You wanna help me?”

“Nah, I’m too mashed.”

Her eyebrow fluttered. “Mashed?”

“Yeah. It’s a British-ism. Means stoned.” Bella’s colloquialisms had lingered, even though she was long gone.  

“How’d you get to learn that?”

He paused, not really wanting to converse about it. “My ex. She was British.”  

Mel nodded, noting his quietness. She knew little of the girlfriend before her, Angel never forthcoming in discussing his previous relationship. All she knew about Bella was that he’d been so in love with her, he’d had her name inked above his heart. She felt like she didn’t measure up somehow, the fact he hadn’t covered it, or gotten hers put on him anywhere. He’d told her it was a lesson learned for him, not to get someone’s name tattooed, before swiftly changing the subject.  

“She’s tattoo girl, right?” Angel nodded in confirmation of her question. “Why don’t you get it covered? I’ve always wondered, why you still want her name on you when you’re no longer together,” she pondered, cracking eggs into the bowl.

He sighed softly, scratching his beard, “Tattoos are memories; you can’t just cover them.”

“Does she still mean something to you?”

Everything. She still meant everything to him. It was why whenever Mel told him ‘I love you’ he never returned it with ‘I love you, too.’ It was always ‘you too.’  

“Look, I’m with you now, querida. Don’t stress. Shit, you know how I feel. And if you need any further confirmation, I could always just show you.”  

Twenty pacifying minutes of kitchen quickie sex later, and Mel was content, back to baking, Angel going to the bathroom, taking his phone out, viewing the same image he let himself gaze at longingly every few weeks.  

He’d deleted all the other pictures of her. All except for one, the photo he took of her sleeping one morning, how the light hit her so beautifully. Six months on, and he still couldn’t quite find the strength to press the little trash can icon and whisk the last remaining part of her out of his life.  

Well, that and her name, still right there on his chest. The tattoo that Mel felt so uncomfortable about. And now the earring in his pocket, which later that night while his girlfriend was asleep, he took a pair of pliers to, linking it through one of the long, silver pendants around his neck, using the pliers to bend the stem and wind it tightly onto the chain, so it hung behind the crucifix and virgin Mary adornments.  

Feeling it tickle against his bare chest, he was reminded of when it did the same while it was in her ear, as he held her to him. Taking his phone, he pulled up Instagram, looking through for Heavenly Creature’s page, which he’d since unfollowed, same as Bella’s, having to put that distance there and not see her in his feed, although he was at best a very casual user of social media. More of him existed on his friend’s accounts than his own.  

Going to their Soundcloud page, he hit the song he always returned to, Edge of Seventeen, the very first he’d heard her sing. Except this time, just like any other since their split, he couldn’t make it more than a minute into the track, her voice haunting him, like a ghost, the burning of his heart that still beat just for her too much to bear. Mostly, he was alright, living life as if she’d never come into it, but when he allowed himself to think about her, it got too much, and the sadness washed over him in ceaseless waves.  

She’d be eighteen in five months. Twenty weeks. One hundred and fifty-two days. Nothing stopped him returning to her then, yet he knew he couldn’t. For all he loved her, she’d still broken his trust, and besides, she’d likely moved on from him. She was young, a vivacious, gorgeous seventeen-year-old girl. Of course, she’d have found someone else by then. He didn’t dare ever look at her Instagram page to find that out, though, because he knew one thing clearly. His heart wouldn’t be able to take it if she had.

Lying on the sofa, he sighed, rubbing his hands over his face. “Get it together, for fucks sake, man. You’ve had months, just move on properly.” With that, he got up and went to bed, curling around Mel, holding her tightly. He liked her a lot; she was truly a lovely girl. He didn’t love her, though, and he wouldn’t, or rather couldn’t, until he stopped loving Bella.

Whenever that happened.  

Until it did, he threw himself towards Mel, doing as he’d always done with women, making them the centre of his world, trying as hard as he could to hopefully feel the love she felt for him catch at the edges of his own heart, so the blaze of love would be for her flames, and not Bella’s. Maybe after a few more months, it would happen? He saw in month nine, and still, his heart remained firmly within the fire of another.  

“I can fucking dribble in a dress, just you watch me!” Mel shouted, gathering the long, floral dress she had on in one hand, managing to run while she dribbled the basketball right past Creeper and Gilly, Coco moving rapidly to intercept, the fading light of the afternoon bathing the sky in an orange glow that she looked truly beautiful under, her long, bleached blonde hair shining in the hue.  

“She’s fucking great, ain’t she?” Angel hummed as he watched her. “Throw him an elbow, baby! He can’t get any uglier!” he then hollered, referring to Coco, who she’d just gotten the ball away from again.  

EZ sat at his side, quiet, thoughtful. “It isn’t fair on her, though.”

Angel was sharp in his retort. “What isn’t?”

“That you don’t love her.” He looked down, circling his foot around on top of a pebble beneath his boot. “Mel’s awesome, and she deserves to be with someone who really is in love with her, not with a guy trying desperately to convince himself that he is.” He looked sideways at his brother, the side of his mouth ruching into a lopsided smile. “I see through it with you, you know. Always have.”

Angel sucked his teeth in a hiss, sipping his beer. “Ain’t shit to see though, bro. I love Mel, that’s all there is to it.”  

“Mentiroso,” he muttered quietly.  

“EZ, I ain’t fucking lying!”

He finished his beer, taking Angel’s empty bottle too as he stood. “Then why are you getting so pissed?”

He opened his mouth to hurl another collection of angrily delivered words, before thinking better of it. This was his brother, for heaven’s sakes. He returned, handing over a fresh bottle, taking his seat beside him again, laughing softly at the scene ahead of him, Mel taking advantage of her height, able to jump up to shoot a very neat hoop. “You calmed down now?”

Angel pouted slightly, thumbing the label where it had begun to peel back a little. “I was calm before, just annoyed with you digging at me.”  

“Because it’s the truth?”

He sighed, closing his eyes, his fingers swiping over his forehead. Honesty was likely the best policy here, especially with his own brother. It should have been with Mel, too, he realised. “Yeah. How lame is that, huh? It’s been nine months now, and I still ain’t over her. Not enough to be in love with anyone else, even if they are as great as Mel.”  

“Then why are you hurting her by staying when you don’t really love her? Because one day, one day soon, if I’ve remembered right about nine weeks from now, actually, Bella is gonna turn eighteen, and you’re gonna find yourself hitting the highway up to La Jolla. I know you, man. I know you better than anyone does. I know you want her back.”  

Angel hadn’t even truly admitted that to himself as yet, that he really had been counting down the months and weeks, unsure what he would do, when he knew she’d turned eighteen. “I dunno, EZ. She might have moved on, be with someone else by now. And how can I trust her again, after what she lied about?”

“Because she was a kid, and she made a mistake? One I think she’s likely to have learned from bigtime?” he suggested, pulling his phone out, tapping the Facebook icon, swiping and searching until he found the information he was looking for. “As for if she’s seeing anyone else? Relationship status; single.”  

Turning his cell around, he showed Angel the information on Bella’s profile. “You’re still friends with her on there?”  

EZ snorted, incredulous. “That’s your takeaway from this?” He shook his head, laughing softly through his nose.  “It isn’t like I talk to her, but yeah, I am. I’m not the one she lied to, though.”  

Angel sighed again, placing his beer down, stretching his arms out above his head. “That’s literally the only thing keeping me back, once she does hit eighteen. The lie. I dunno, EZ. I need to just deal with it and move on.”

His brother chuckled. “And how’s that working out for you? Nine months and like you say, you’re not over her. What’s worse, Angel? Her making an egregious mistake that I don’t doubt she’s truly sorry over, or losing her forever, and hurting a wonderful woman who you can’t give what she deserves in the process? I’m not gonna keep on at you with it, but maybe sit with what I just said and let it marinade.”  

He was quiet then, partly because he knew that if he bombarded Angel too much, his brain would short circuit and he’d lose his temper, and the rest because Mel was on her way over to them, Gilly’s girlfriend Amelia in tow.  

“If you want tickets, you gotta look now and see if there’s any left. We got ours weeks ago and they’ve usually all sold by now,” the latter was saying, sitting down on a chair opposite the couches, Mel picking up her ice water (she didn’t drink) and taking a few gulps before seating herself upon Angel’s lap.  

“How about it, sweetie? Music festival up in Loma Linda in three months?”

“Oh, you mean Rock Largo? I went to that last year, it’s pretty decent,” EZ chirped, nodding.

Angel was tentatively interested. “Who’s playing? Anyone good?” Amelia called up the website on her phone, turning the screen and passing it to him. After a preliminary scan of the main stage bands, his eyebrows raised in further interest, handing it back to her and pulling his own phone from his pocket, getting tickets for him, Mel, and being a kind older brother, one for EZ, too. A few of the other guys made their way over, the one-day festival seeming to become a bit of a club outing, a few others ordering themselves a ticket as well.

It seemed like no time passed at all before the day was upon them, almost the entire club (bar Bish, Taza and Hank, who decreed it to not be their kind of thing) heading up to San Bernadino, the women of the group, Mel, Amelia and Nala, a girl Coco had begun dating in the interim, all buzzing with excitement as they held hands in a row, the guys more invested with getting some cold beers while the girls browsed the little market stalls there for jewellery, band apparel and other items of clothing.  

“Don’t you be buying anything you can’t fit in your bag, baby cakes, I ain’t being your pack horse while you go off dancing,” Angel warned Mel, grabbing her by the back of her dress and pulling her near, kissing the side of her neck a few times.  

“Daisies!” she announced, brandishing the clips she’d just bought, sliding them into his hair.

He was not impressed. “I look like a flowery dick, don’t I?”  

Throwing her head back, she laughed loudly, taking them out and clipping them into her own hair. “You look gorgeous! Come on, New Year’s Day hit the main stage in ten minutes, and I want to be somewhere close by.” Not particularly liking their music, but having a bit of a thing for Ash Costello, Angel was agreeable, taking her hand and heading over to where the large crowd gathered. There were three stages there at the festival, the main one, a smaller one across the other side of the open land, and off towards the back, a small, yet reasonably sized tent where smaller bands played, and the larger acts did Q&A seminars with the VIP wristband holders intermittently.  

After most of the bands they wanted to see in the afternoon had played, he and Mel found themselves separating from the others, walking down by the small tent, where there were more stalls dotted around, Angel waiting for her while she browsed. It was as she was talking to a woman with dreadlocks that touched her waist about the candles she was selling that he heard a voice, one which made all the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, singing lyrics he recognised instantly.  

“We flew too close to the sun, so close I thought it was heaven...”

Bella.  

Ice and fire ran through his veins, his entire body tingling with goosepimples, his feet taking him towards the tent, standing at the back, seeing her there, sitting on a stool on stage, playing acoustic guitar accompanied by Richie, Ian sat at a keyboard playing the piano parts of the song. Oh god, there she was. The one who he’d never gotten over. Looking at her, he knew, he felt it; she was still the love of his life.

“The skies on fire, the stars disappear. No signs of life, without you here...”  

He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, feeling as if someone had his heart in their grip. Someone did, and she’d never let go.

“Oh my god! What an incredible vocalist, wow!” Mel exclaimed, her touch to his hand making him jump out of the little void he’d slipped into, but not enough to cease feeling her words yanking at his heartstrings, the emotion in her voice so clear.  

“World stops turning, every breath feels like it’s burning...”

She always sang right from her heart, but Angel heard it, he knew it, because he knew her. She was singing from her heartbreak, and it only made it all the more emotional to listen to. That as well as seeing her again, looking just as beautiful, as ethereal, as amazing as he remembered, it stirred him so heavily, he didn’t know what to do.  

“Awww, honey! Are you okay?” Mel cooed softly, watching tears trickle down his cheeks, Angel having to turn away and walk back out, drying his eyes, composing himself. Inside, though, he was churning, his heart hammering so hard, he felt lightheaded. “I didn’t think you were the type to be so stirred by a song! I mean, it is hauntingly beautiful, isn’t it?” she continued, Angel feeling his entire body tingle.  

“It isn’t that,” he spoke quietly. “That song? That song’s about me. She wrote it about me.”

Mel paused for a moment, her face falling when it dawned on her. “That’s Bella in there, isn’t it?”

He nodded, his voice but a whisper. “Yep.” He knew in that moment, he couldn’t hide from it, couldn’t distract himself from it any longer. It didn’t work. It never would. She was lovely, but she wasn’t her. There was nothing holding him back now, apart from the lovely woman before him who didn’t deserve to be caught up in his mess for a second longer. Taking her face in his hands, he leaned down, kissing her forehead. “I’m so, so sorry. I can’t do this anymore. It’s over.”  

Without further word, he turned, heading back into the tent, moving around to the side of the crowd, staring up at the stage, willing her to see him there, listening to her singing the rest of the lyrics she hadn’t yet written back when he’d read the first part of the song...

“Slept on your side of the bed, replayed the things that I should have said. Wish I had some of the strength, to leave alone what I couldn't change...”

He was right back there, holding her as she slept, leaving quietly, writing his last words to her. He felt it welling up inside him again. And then she looked right at him...

Bella thought her heart was about to fall out of her mouth, seeing him there, staggered that she didn’t miss the high note she sang, witnessing him standing there, her entire body feeling like it was coming alive again, unable to look away. Oh god, how she’d missed him, longed for him, and there he was, hearing her heartbreak through the words she’d written in the direct aftermath of it, of losing him.  

She couldn’t look away, her eyes locked on his, singing her heart out for him, just him, no one else in the crowd mattering one bit. She needed him to hear it, hear how much it had crushed her to lose him, how much she still loved him.  

“Tears will fall, oceans will rise, the world will stop turning. Since you left, every breath feels like it’s burning...”

Her eyes filled with tears when she saw him smile, her poor, lovelorn little heart feeling like the dead garden within it was blooming back to full colour once more, smiling back although she was in tears up there, feeling it reflected back to her, that he still loved her just as much as she did him. As Ian played out the last part of the piano bars, she placed her guitar down, climbing off the stage. She climbed over the metal barrier at the front, people moving back, fighting her way through, Angel doing the same.  

“Excuse me, move it, get the bloody hell out of my way!” she spoke lightly, her impatience growing by the moment, shoving through the bemused people who turned to watch her, Angel parting the crowd like Moses parting the red sea through his sheer size, until there she was, opening his arms, Bella jumping into them.  

They didn’t speak, but as she held his face in her hands and leaned down to kiss him, the crowd beginning to wolf whistle, cheer and clap, it hit him like a thunderbolt.  

He could breathe again.  

“Can you do something for me?” she finally spoke.  

He knew exactly where this was going. “Anything.”

She rested her forehead to his, stroking his beard with her thumbs. “Never leave me.”

“No.” He shook his head, kissing the tip of her nose. “I never will.”

[varricmancer]

Written in the stars | 1

Pairing: Varric Tethras x Bethany Hawke

Word Count: 2,019 (A little short, but I’ve been super busy with work and I wanted to get this started. Hopefully it’s still good!)

Summary: When his best friend Garrett Hawke decides to follow his dream and open his own movie studio, Varric is more than happy to offer help in the form of a huge donation and ignore Garrett’s pleas for him to write them a script. Until he learns Garrett’s sister Bethany is meant to be their main actress. Varric may never feel worthy enough to act on his infatuation with the sweet girl, but he’ll do anything in his power to make her a star. 

Notes: A modern au! Obviously. Still set in Thedas, but it’s been fiddled with to adjust to my vision. Mages are still treated like crap. Val Royeaux is basically Hollywood and Garrett’s dream is to make his own studio right there in Kirkwall to rival theirs. This is only my second DA fic and my first time trying to capture the entire Kirkwall crew, so I’m a little terrified over how this will go. I’ll do my best! 

If there was one thing that he was certain all of Thedas knew about him, it would be never wake up Varric Tethras before noon. This is how he knew that whoever was knocking at his door at seven in the morning - only three hours after he’d finally gone to bed, mind you - was either an idiot or suicidal. 

He reluctantly left the warmth of his bed and threw on his favorite red silk robe before shuffling to the front door, where the soon to be dead person was now banging on it hard enough that he was surprised it hadn’t been smashed in yet. 

With a weary sigh, he flung open the door and the witty reproach he’d been preparing on the way there vanished from his head when he spotted the unrepentant grin of his best friend. 

“Hawke. To what do I owe the pleasure of your company this morning?” he drawled, letting the much larger man stroll past him so he could shut the door. 

Garrett shrugged and started walking towards Varric’s office, having been here so often he knew exactly where everything was. 

“Can’t a guy come say hello to his bestie?” 

Garrett went straight to the spare coffee maker that Varric had set up in there for late night writing sessions. He hummed loudly while he scooped out coffee grounds and filled the machine with cold water. 

“Uh huh. And why didn’t you use your key?” 

Varric settled into his highback brown leather chair that was starting to crinkle with age. His friend was up to something. He’d normally have it all figured out by now, but he was still only half awake. 

“That would have been rude.” 

“I see,” Varric snorts. Garrett throws a look behind him that said he knew perfectly well what he’d done wrong and wasn’t sorry in the least. 

“You realize, of course, that by waking me up mere hours after we last saw each other I am now honor-bound to kill you and everything you love.” 

“Then I hope you’re ready to die today, my friend.” 

“Damn that was smooth,” Varric grumbled aloud. 

Garrett chuckled as he started up the machine and pulled out a couple of mugs from the bottom cupboard. He was still humming obnoxiously loud, but Varric was too tired to protest. Instead, he slumped into his chair and closed his eyes, listening to the gurgling of the ancient machine as it began to fill the carafe.

Just when he was beginning to nod off, a steaming cup of black coffee was shoved under his nose. He supposed it was too much to hope Hawke would have mercy on him. He sighs sleepily and accepts the mug, slurping down the hot brew with practiced ease. Garrett pulls a chair closer to the desk and settles in with his own drink, studying Varric over the rim like he’s waiting for the caffeine to take effect before he strikes. 

“So,” Varric finally rumbles after the coffee had settled in his stomach a little. “What do you need? Money? Contacts? An alibi and an extra shovel?” 

“No to all of those, but I’ll keep that last offer in mind for the future,” Garrett grins. “I’ve done it, Varric.” 

Varric’s foggy mind couldn’t quite grasp what he’d supposedly done. Knowing his friend, it could be anything. He quirked an eyebrow in question, leading Garrett to lean forward with maniacally bright eyes. 

“My dream. I finally found the perfect place to open my own movie studio. I’d done a favor for the owner of the building and they lowered the price for me so I was able to afford it. It needs a little work, but it’s a start.” 

Garrett’s face is practically glowing with joy, and Varric couldn’t be happier for his friend. Ever since they’d met back in their college days he’d had to sit through so many rants during movies nights. “That’s the problem with those big studios in Val Royeaux, Varric. Everyone is too afraid to take risks anymore. It’s all about the money. When I get behind the camera, I plan to change the world.” 

“Shit, that’s great! I’m happy for you, Hawke. Anything you need, just ask. I can help fix up the place and buy equipment to get you started. It’s going to be a lot of work to get it up and running.” 

“Actually,” Garrett started slyly, “I had hoped to ask you to help with something specific.” 

“Which brings us to why you’re really here,” Varric grunted with a smirk. 

“Indeed. How would you like to be the first official employee of Hawke Filmworks? 

Varric chuckles. “I’m happy to slip you some cash or recommend some talented workers, Hawke, but I’m rather fond of being self-employed.” 

“Don’t worry! You can still work from home in your underwear most of the time! I need a scriptwriter, Varric. Who better to help me turn the entertainment industry on its ear than my best friend?” 

Varric scrunched his nose and huffed. “I don’t know about that, Hawke. I write adventure tales and stuff that’s basically shitty erotica. I don’t know the first thing about writing a script.” 

“Please! I will kneel and grovel. There’s no one else I would entrust my dream to. Varric, my dearest friend. My love for you has - “ 

“Andraste’s tits, shut up. And get up, you idiot,” Varric rumbled at Garrett, who had fallen dramatically at Varric’s feet, grasping his ankle like the drama queen he was. 

Varric sighed and rubbed his forehead. “I’ll think about it. I’d have to do some research. Are you sure you don’t just want some money? What would I even write about?” 

“I have some ideas! Don’t worry about that. We can work on it together. Beth is going to be a mage that overthrows the monarchy and becomes the country’s first elected leader. Imagine that! A mage in power! It will be a little more complicated than that, of course, and lots of political subtext. And there will be a love story with the former Prince...and DRAGONS!” 

Garrett had lost him after the name he’d mentioned, Varric’s chest aching as it usually did when her name was mentioned. 

Bethany Hawke, Garrett’s little sister. A beautiful and kind woman that was so far out of Varric’s league - though it didn’t prevent him from daydreaming occasionally. 

“Bethany is going to be in on it?” 

“Of course. The whole gang is. Bethany is going to be our lead actress, Marion is going to do her stunts. Carver is our sound engineer and whatever else we need. Issy says she’ll help with costumes. Aveline has agreed to come in and help too. I was thinking of calling her our Executive Producer. Meaning she gets to do all the boring sitting at a desk and making phone calls to hire people and secure locations, make sure we’re all doing our jobs. The lot mom.” Garrett chuckles. 

Varric’s fingers began to twitch with the need to grab his pen. His mind was suddenly filled with images of Bethany as a warrior mage, her silken black hair flowing in the wind as she gazed deep into the viewer's soul with her striking amber eyes. She’d strike down her foes with her powerful magic, and give the people hope with her gentle smile. 

And...Hawke said a romance. Would she giggle over stolen moments? Stare up at her lover passionately as they towered over her? Would she sigh or moan when the Prince- who looked remarkably like Varric in his mind - pressed kisses to the little mole on her collarbone? 

Varric gulped and forced himself to focus, feeling guilty for thinking such things about his friend's sister right in front of him. 

“Bethany does realize that a role like that, especially with the way mages are still treated even here in Kirkwall, would bring a lot of attention to her? And not all of it good. She could be in danger.” 

Garrett nods. “We thought of that. I was going to hire an actress, but she said she wants to do it. She thinks if we can tell the right story, it might help change the way people treat mages. Aveline is going to hire someone for security.” 

Varric sighs. “If she’s going to put herself in the public eye like that and basically draw a target on her forehead, I’ll do it. I’ll feel better if I know I have some control over how she’s portrayed.” 

Garrett reaches over actually pulls him into a hug, slapping his back harshly in excitement. 

“You’re the best, my friend. I feel much more confident knowing we have you in our corner. And I know Beth will be happier knowing you’re helping too. She would have been sad if I’d had to tell her you’d said no. And you know that Bethany Hawke sad is a bad thing. Flowers wilt, crops perish, stars fall from the sky.” 

Varric scoffs. “Like you didn’t know you’d get me to agree eventually.” 

Garrett smirks and stands up. “I’ll leave you to your rest then. Come by later to check out the building. I’d appreciate your opinion on where to start.” 

“Oh, now that he’s caffeinated me he’ll let me sleep,” Varric grumbles as he follows his friend to the door. Garrett laughs and pats his head. 

“You know you love me.” 

Varric shrugs and grins as he opens his front door and kicks Garrett’s ass outside, literally. 

“Yeah, yeah. Send me the address. I’ll take a quick nap and come by with some food. Sound good?” 

“Perfect! Later, Tethras!” 

Varric waits until his friend has safely driven away before he closes his door with a sigh. What he’d actually agreed to was finally soaking in. He’d avoided interacting with the extended Hawke family as much as possible the past few years. They’d questioned it a few times, especially considering he’d once practically lived in the Hawke home he’d been there so much. 

However, being tempted so often by someone he could never have had gotten too hard to deal with. There were so many reasons he could think of for Bethany to never even consider him an option. He was older than her, with an often bitter and jaded outlook on life and relationships. She was literal sunshine and was so kind and gentle that it was like she’d walked right out of a fairy tale. She was stunningly beautiful, tall and shapely. He was...well, a dwarf. Though he admittedly took more care with his appearance than many of his kind. They were complete opposites in so many ways that there was literally no reason for them to ever be together beyond one - That Varric adored her and would do anything to make her happy. 

Unfortunately for him, what would make the entire Hawke clan happy was for him to apparently attempt writing a script for the ages. 

Varric yawns and scratches his belly as he trudges back to his bedroom and the comfort of his blankets, visions of warrior mages with gentle amber eyes floating through his head.