#Michael happy to see his other universe sister and tears up in front of her

[chloesimaginationthings]

Micheal feeling comfortable enough around Vanessa to show her his scars:

Then Vanny struggling to not make every single interaction with Mike awkward or stressful:

It’s so funny their interactions are totally the opposite

[tootiredmotel]

Electricity

Inspired by @ledzeppelinmixtape 's emoji prompt: ⛈

Read on ao3 or below / 2.3k words

It's 11pm and storming biblically when Dean and Cas's apartment goes dark.

"Great," Dean mutters under his breath. "Fan-freaking-tastic."

From somewhere else in the apartment, his roommate asks "did the power go out?"

"What do you think, sunshine?" Dean replies sarcastically.

He has a half-written essay in front of him, but he knows his old-ass computer won't last long unplugged, so he saves the document before shutting it off. He leans back in his chair, stretching for the first time in an hour and running a hand down his face. He actually needed a break from the screen, he realizes, feeling his eyes relax as he rubs them.

The steady rain and strong winds outside make an overwhelming white noise track, interrupted only by thunder that goes from faint and distant to deafening in volume. If Dean wasn't stressed out of his mind and completely exhausted right now, he might actually find this kind of nice.

"It's raining cats and mice out there," he hears Cas say, his voice now in the room.

Dean smiles, still rubbing his eyes with the backs of both his hands. "Cats and dogs, Cas."

"Right. Cats and dogs."

It’s really no use correcting him; the entire animal kingdom could be falling from the sky right now and there wouldn't be much of a difference. The winds are definitely knocking things over, and the streets will certainly be flooded come morning. Dean wonders for how long the university will cancel classes after this (if at all, the heartless bloodsuckers).

A particularly loud clap of thunder startles Dean. He drops his hands from his face and opens his eyes, expecting to see pitch black nothingness, but the room is faintly lit by the flashlight Cas is holding as he rummages through their kitchen drawers. He approaches a minute later and sets a candle down on the small table.

"Smart."

"Thank you, Dean," Cas says, sitting down opposite him. Dean smiles again, this time shaking his head.

If anyone ever asked him to mention one thing he likes about Cas, just one, he'd probably say how genuine Cas is, how he takes everything to heart and speaks from it as well. Dean said just one word, smart, a simple comment on the fact that it occurred to Cas to light a candle instead of wasting the battery of their one flashlight, and Cas genuinely thanked him for the compliment. He's just ridiculously cute in his earnestness.

Cas is trying to light the candle now, but their lighter is tricky. Despite living together in that apartment for a year and a half now Cas has never really gotten the hang of it.

"Here, let me."

Dean means to take the lighter from Cas and do it himself, he really does. That is 100% his intention as he reaches across the table. Except he sees an opportunity, and Dean Michael Winchester is nothing if not smooth.

He wraps his hand around Cas's, gently guiding his fingers until they’re placed just right, and the lighter clicks on with ease. Cas meets his eyes, smiling, and Dean can feel the slightest brush of Cas’s thumb against his hand. It’s a small gesture, but clearly deliberate, and it sends Dean’s heart into overdrive. Cas leans away, puts the lighter aside, and starts leafing through a book he brought. Dean’s heart is still racing as he watches him.

Scratch that first thing. If anyone ever asked him what’s one thing he likes about Cas? His hands. God. Neat nails, slightly calloused palms, and overall larger hands than you’d expect. Cas is an environmental science major and he wants to get a Ph.D. in botany, so of course, there’s a small garden on their fire escape. He tends to those plants every day with more gentleness and care than Dean has ever seen, and Dean loves to watch him, even though he has no idea what Cas is doing with them half the time. He just knows that not a single one of their plants have died under Cas’s care. He names them too.

His attentiveness. That’s another thing Dean might say if anyone ever asked. Cas left to visit his sister Anna last winter break. He left Dean in charge of the plants, three of which died inside the week. (For Dean’s birthday a couple of months later, Cas got him a book. How Not to Kill Your Houseplant. Dean keeps it on his nightstand.) Dean went out and bought new ones, but he knew Cas would notice the difference, and he did. He wasn’t mad at Dean though, and he appreciated the effort, and as Dean apologized profusely over and over again, Cas looked at him in the eyes oh-so-softly and told him he was forgiven.

How could Dean possibly forget? If anyone ever asked, he’d say that Cas’s eyes are one of his favorite things about him. One of his favorite things, period. Dean is absolutely mesmerized whenever Cas looks him in the eye, and the guy loves making eye contact, which means that Dean lives in a perpetual smitten daze. He has never seen that shade of blue anywhere else on this earth. Or maybe he just hasn’t been looking, content to get his fill of that blue by staring into Cas’s eyes as much as he gets to on a daily basis.

“Are you alright, Dean?”

Dean blinks himself back to reality. “Hm?”

“You seem… spaced.”

Dean is staring. He’s been staring this whole time. Shit. Crap.

“Yeah, um. Just tired.”

Mr. Smooth, everybody.

“Maybe you should go get some rest. I doubt the power will be back anytime soon.”

Castiel Milton, always looking out for you. It makes Dean melt.

“Yeah, maybe.” I wanna stay here with you, though, he thinks. Instead, because he’s pathetic, he asks “what’re you reading?”

Cas shows him the cover. How Not to Kill Your Houseplant. Dean breaks out in laughter.

“So you’re going into my room and stealing my shit now?”

“Don’t worry, I didn’t touch your Vonneguts.” Cas puts the book aside, an easy smile on his face. “Just wanted something light to pass the time.”

“You done with your homework?”

A soft yawn escapes Cas. “For now.”

“Dude, why not just go to sleep? You look exhausted.”

“Look who’s talking.”

Dean tries to deadpan him. He fails, because around Cas, it’s near impossible for him to not smile.

“Besides, I might be done but you weren’t.”

“And you wanted to keep me company.”

Cas shrugs as if to say I guess, but he does it with a knowing smile. The smile doesn’t falter as he meets Dean’s eyes, and he doesn’t look away when silence settles between them, the only sound being the stormy white noise.

Dean is sure he could drown in that blue and die happy.

Before that train of thought gets away from him again, Dean tears his gaze away and stretches. “We should really go to bed though, I’m not getting any more done tonight,” he says as he stands.

“Of course,” Cas says, but he grabs the book again.

“You not going?”

“I want to finish this chapter.”

The seriousness in his tone makes Dean smile. Again.

“Well, g’night, Cas.”

“Good night, Dean.”

Dean thinks he detects a bit of shakiness in Cas’s voice but decides that he’s probably just tired.

He gets to his room and changes into something comfortable, the first t-shirt and sweatpants he finds as he rummages in the dark. He goes to set his phone on his nightstand and crawl into bed, but in place of the book he keeps there and puts his phone on top of– the book Cas has at the moment– he finds something else.

It’s paper. It’s folded into the form of a book, like one of those youtube craft tutorials with bad music, and it's no bigger than his own palm. The cover is handwritten, and Dean immediately recognizes it as Cas's. He smiles, expecting a prank or joke of some sort, Cas knows how stressed Dean can get with the start of the semester. However, his smile falters as he reads the cover:

How to tell your best friend you’re in love with him.

With a shaky hand, Dean opens the small book. The first page is the only one with any more writing on it, and it reads:

You leave him a note and hope it’s enough.

Dean is storming out of his bedroom (no pun intended) before he knows it. He barely even feels his feet moving, too focused on the pounding in his ears and the dryness in his mouth. He doesn’t go into the living room, not yet; his feet stop at the end of the short hallway and he braces himself against the wall. The room is spinning and he can barely breathe.

“Cas?” He chokes out.

Cas puts the book back down on the table in front of him and interlocks his fingers in front of him. He doesn’t look at Dean– Cas, who makes too much eye contact – and takes a deep breath before saying “yes?”

He’s nervous.

Dean takes a step forward, still keeping one hand on the wall just in case, and holds up the note. “What is this?” he asks, because his brain is just not there with him yet.

Cas stands, still not facing Dean. “Dean, do you know what day it is?”

He’s asking this now???

“September firs–”

Oh. Oh shit.

“Cas isn’t today the–”

“The night we met. Two years ago.”

Dean feels his brain catching up now as the memory starts coming back to him. Cas helps, starting to recount that night.

“Two years ago tonight, I was leaving my night course at the university, and it was raining. Not as bad as this,” –Cas looks out the window and lightning strikes, as if on cue– “but pretty badly, and I was an inexperienced freshman without an umbrella.”

Dean remembers. He was walking Charlie to her dorm when it started drizzling, and it was pouring by the time he made it back to his car. Dean had a night shift at the gas station and was about to head there.

“Two years ago tonight,” Cas continues, “you invited me into your car to shelter me from the rain.”

Dean saw this guy running in the direction of the men’s dorms, which were on the other side of campus. He felt bad, and he had a car, so he opened the passenger door and let him in.

Turned out to be the most gorgeous guy he’d ever laid eyes on. He was a bit awkward, but he had no filter, which made him weirdly funny. He asked about the music playing in the car and listened intently to Dean's rambling. He laughed at his jokes too.

At the end of the five-minute drive, he said his name was Castiel, and Dean asked for his number and saved it as Cas with a thunderstorm emoji. Because even if he didn’t know it yet, Dean was already whipped.

“Two years ago,” Cas says, finally looking up at Dean. His eyes are wide and vulnerable and he looks terrified and Dean can barely stand it. “Two years ago tonight, I started to fall in love with you.”

Dean can’t breathe. His ears are hot and he can’t stop fidgeting with the note in his hand and he can’t breathe.

But his feet start moving again, out of their own volition. They move toward Cas.

“If you don’t feel–” Cas starts, but Dean swallows his words.

Again, Dean’s brain isn’t all there yet, and he doesn’t realize what he’s doing until he’s already in it. He’s grabbing Cas’s face, digging his fingertips into the back of his hair, and the note is forgotten on the table, and thunder rumbles not that far away. He’s darting out his tongue, begging to explore Cas’s mouth as he’s wanted to do since forever, and Cas lets him. He tastes like toothpaste and coffee and honey and Dean never wants to taste anyone else ever again.

Cas is wrapping his arms around Dean’s waist and pressing his entire body against him. It’s making Dean weak in the knees but it’s okay because Cas is almost holding him upright at this point. There’s another clap of thunder, much closer this time, and the lightning probably illuminated the apartment, but it wasn’t enough to make them part. They’re moving and grasping and exploring frantically, and Dean is afraid Cas is going to disappear, or that he’s going to wake up and this will all have been another dream. But no, it’s real, and they’re playing catchup on two years worth of desire and longing and love.

They eventually pull away, breathless and giddy. The only sounds are the rain and the wind. Dean opens his eyes first, needing to see Cas and make sure this is completely, definitely, unequivocally real. Cas is smiling and taking deep breaths, and a weight seems to be lifted off his shoulders. He opens his eyes a second later, and even in the darkness, even with just the faint candlelight, the blue in them seems to shine. And even though there's no power, it feels as if there's electricity crackling in the air around them. It might be the storm.

No. It's the moment. This moment with Cas is what feels electric.

“Come to bed?” Dean asks, feeling brave and going out on a limb. The only way Cas responds is by interlocking his hand into Dean’s and kissing him again.

And after tonight, for the rest of his life, if anyone ever asks him “what’s one thing you love about Cas?” Dean won’t be able to narrow down an answer.

He’ll just say: “Everything.”

[be-ready-when-i-say-go]

The Hard Things

Doing the right thing is never easy. Calum and Freya have a lot going for them. But what happens when fear gets in the way.

Inspired by I Follow Rivers by Marika Hackman and Starting Line by Luke Hemmings.

Calum X Black Female OC.

I cried once writing this. 7.4k words. Angst. Just angst and sarcasm.

@notinthesameguey is personally responsible for this. So blame her.

The Hard Things--Alternative Ending

Masterlist (on semi hiatus)

___________________________________

If Freya were going to be honest, she would admit that the second she saw Calum and his friends walk into the building she knew things were going to be bad. But Freya’s not being honest. Because being honest would almost include admitting just how too easy it was that day. How if those particular sequences of events hadn’t happened that specifically, then she wouldn’t be here--trying not to watch the quiver in his chin or the way he blinks rapidly. Then she wouldn’t be trying to forget the way his voice quakes.

But they did happen in that particular order. On a Thursday afternoon, he and his friends walked through the door. And here, here at this part, it’s easy to be honest.

Honestly, she is staring--way too hard and way too long at the rag-tag gaggle of people, but especially the man pulling up the rear of the group with a bright red hat snug on his head and covering his eyes, though not even the brim can hide the plump full lips pulled up into a tiny grin at something that must’ve been said. Because another guy, this one fairer-skinned in a hat too and a baggy t-shirt is also laughing. And of course, this group would enter just as Tre stepped away to check on the lanes already throwing. Vanessa wasn’t too far from the desk, but she was trying to help some parents figure out when they could schedule an event for someone’s birthday in the coming weeks.

This only leaves Freya as the only person available right now until rounds were completed to handle any new patrons. With a glance down to the clock on the computer, she could see that a couple more folks would be coming back to the front at any point. But clearly, that point wouldn’t come quick enough.

“Hi,” Freya greets flicking her gaze back up to the group with a quick smile. It’s the training. The fact that more than once she’d been told that customers liked her, especially the way she gave instructions but she needed to smile more. And if this weren’t the job keeping her afloat during her time of getting her degree, in addition to the administrative desk work she did at the university, she would leave here in a heartbeat. Possibly even in the blink of an eye. Whichever was faster.

“Hey! We were hoping you had a couple of lanes for us.”

Freya counts the head. “Just you seven?”

The guy that spoke initially turns the man in the back with the bright red hat on. “Still no word from her?”

The guy shrugs. “Don’t sweat it.” And Freya clings to every syllable. The almost sleepy drawl to his voice lined with a twinge of an accent. She can’t place it at first. But all of them share slight variations in it. The man in the red hat’s voice is low but smooth.

“Yeah just the seven of us,” a taller man pipes in.

“Okay, we can only have two people throwing on a lane at a time. I can put you on neighboring ones but we’ve got very strict rules about how many people can throw at a time.”

There’s a murmur amongst the group but eventually, it comes back to Freya that they’re okay with it. She runs down the safety rules, the forms they have to form out, and checks their IDs. She notices the man with the red hat’s name is Calum and though she knows she shouldn’t, she tries to commit it to memory. It won’t last long. She forgets names all too fast, but she never forgets a face.

“Nessa, watch the desk for me!” Freya calls out as she collects the cases with the axes and directs the party to their lanes. There’s a table for convening and a separate for the axes to rest. “Alright,” she starts with a quick whistle to settle the group. They get chatty but are quick to turn their attention back to her. “I don’t want to kick anyone out, but I will. So one last recap of the rules.”

When Freya finishes, she has the entire group repeat the rules back to her. When they return it to her all correctly, she smiles. “I appreciate y’all already. There are several range officers. They monitor carefully from several posts,” and she points them out as she speaks. “The shift rotates out in an hour. Meaning you’ll have to pause let the old shift go and let the new shift jump in. You’ll hear beeps to signal you to stop and start. If you have any other questions or concerns, you can find me at the front or a range officer. And we’ll be happy to help. Let’s keep all fingers, toes, extremities, and eyeballs intact and we can have a great day together. Enjoy.”

Usually, in her safety spills and best way to throw, Freya makes sure to keep eye contact with everyone in the group. However, she places a purposeful gaze on Calum when she tells them to enjoy. It’s reckless--she knows that. A little flirting hasn’t hurt her. Besides, she knows the moment she walks away, he’ll forget about her. They always did and she likes it like that. Flirty enough to keep good reviews, but never too flirty to insinuate anything more.

In her departure, Freya feels eyes on her, lasting longer than usual. And maybe she put more emphasis behind the swish of her hips and maybe she hoped it was Calum watching her walk away. But she doesn’t dare turn around. No matter how much she hopes in a fleeting second that maybe she had flirted just a little too much, Freya does not turn around to confirm or deny anything.

Back at the front desk, Freya takes a look at the cameras. Anyone at the front can see the lanes too--it’s for safety when you have live blades. Her gaze travels over each one though just out of the corner of her eye she catches the bright red hat. A few guys clasp him on the back but she can’t hear whatever else is said. The rest of the afternoon goes by slowly. As people leave, few come in to replace them. The weekend will be busier--it always in. And Freya knows that soon too, once the afternoon becomes evening things will pick up just a little.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m here. Everything okay?”

Freya barely sees who it is talking before they’re out of the door. Calum, phone pressed to his ear. She watches him for a beat as he paces near the front windows of the establishment. Her gaze doesn’t linger long before something on the floor catches her eye. She sees it’s black and square. When she gets closer it looks like a wallet. Clearly used and loved by the creases in it. She glances back up to Calum to see him still on the phone and peeks at the ID just to make sure who it belongs to.

With the blank stare of Calum’s ID photo looking up at her, Freya takes it back behind the desk. She’ll wait until he gets off the phone. A minute or two later, the door chimes again with Calum reentering.

“Hey, you dropped this,” she calls out, stepping out from the desk to hold out the wallet.

Calum pats his pockets and a split second panic causes his eyes to go wide. “Oh shit, thanks. I-I didn’t even realize it fell out of my pocket.”

“No worries. Just glad to get it back to you.” Calum takes it and slips it into his pocket, hands patting the outside to make doubly sure it’s secure. “You guys doing okay back there?

“Yeah, we’re good. Though I think somehow the girls are kicking our asses.”

Freya smiles with a small tuft of laughter escaping her. “It’s power and finesse. You can tear down brick buildings but if you don’t get the release right so it’s not twirling over the axis too many times, you’ll come up with nothing.”

“So says the expert?”

Her cheeks heat for a second at the raised eyebrow Calum gives her. Running her tongue over her teeth to hide the smile, Freya nods. “Yeah, I’ve thrown an axe or two in my lifetime. So I guess that counts as me being an expert.”

Calum laughs. Whether it’s at her or not, Freya’s not sure. But she likes the sound of it. “Tell me what else the expert suggests.”

A moment passes where Freya’s watching his gaze. Wondering if an anime glint will twinkle over his brown eyes because it’s a smooth delivery. Smoother than some of the stuff she’s done. There’s no way he’s fucking real.

Freya takes a half step back, slipping through the threshold that separates the front desk from the main lobby and the hallway to the back where the lanes are set up. “This expert suggests that you try her advice and impress all your friends.”

“More finesse. In the wrist, right?”

“In the wrist.”

A shy smile is shared between the two of them. It borders telling everything and saying nothing at all, borders on giving away on how much Calum might’ve considered concocting a ruse just to get her attention and how much he did backtrack on his plan because it was his sister calling and that shocked him. The smile borders on Freya twirling the Havana twists around her finger and her rolling her eyes at Calum’s thinly veiled attempts at flirting.

Both of them are saved by the front door chiming and Freya gives a nod to Calum before turning her attention to the person now entering. But Calum watches the way she leans into the counter and smiles down at the small child standing next to their parent. “Oh my god, you’re getting so big,” Freya comments and then walks back around to settle next to them.

“No, Fre, I’m not bigger dan yesterday,” the kid responds.

“Huh, could’ve fooled me. Your dad will be out in just a second. Shift change had to wait for one more person. Anything cool happen at school today?”

Calum leaves then, though he can catch the small boy gush about the races he won at recess. It’s probably crazy of him to try and find some sort of way to come back here again soon, but Calum’s already trying to put together an excuse.

When Calum heads back to the front with the group, laughing at Michael’s utter disgust at the way the last few throws went, he does look for Freya. A girl with red hair is sitting at the desk instead. And though a little bit of disappoints settles into his stomach because he wanted to tell her how well her advice worked, he finds himself resolved and it wouldn’t be broken.

******

Calum told himself whatever Freya had to say during this talk wouldn’t break him. Hell, if he were honest, he didn’t think it would go like this. “You know, I used to say I was no good for people all the time,” Calum laughs. He sniffs hard and wipes his noses on the back of his nose. “It was a clean get-away line.”

“I’m not giving you a get-away line. I’m giving you the truth,” Freya returns.

“No, I’m-I’m not saying you’re giving me bullshit. You’re setting a boundary and a good one at that. I respect it. I’m just saying the irony. The same thing I used to tell others is coming back my way.”

“Karma’s a bitch.”

“I don’t regret it.” Calum shakes his head, not because he’s lying. But to emphasize his point.

*****

Calum doesn’t regret going to the Yelp, Facebook, or Instagram page of the business to see if she had liked it or appeared anywhere on their social media. And luck would have it, he manages to find her. The owners like to show off their employees. Their preferred form of employee appreciation appears, in Calum’s investigation, to be a quick bio of new employees along with a video of them throwing. He nearly misses Freya’s post because of his quick scrolls. The bottom of the page comes up quicker than the app could handle and just as the new page loads that he notices it. The thick twists and black lipstick sitting on her cool dark brown skin.

He doesn’t regret it when he followed the account that was tagged, or the message he sent her from his finsta, or the messages they exchanged for a few days. And he for damn sure can’t find himself to regret it when he came back to the place a couple of weeks later to see if Freya was working.

There’s no regret when she smiles at him and laughs. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m here to test your theory yet again. It worked last time. But I want to make sure that it wasn’t beginner’s luck.”

“You doubt me. You dare doubt me? I’m offended.”

Calum laughs briefly as he leans into the counter of the front desk. “It’s more like I’m testing a theory. Making sure the results can be recreated.”

“Oh, I promise you my results are valid.” She reaches out for his ID and every so gently their fingers brush. Calum can’t tell if that’s intentional or not, but it doesn’t the slight shiver that runs down his spine. “So just you today, huh?” Freya continues on, grabbing a clipboard, some forms, and a pen.

“Just me.”

“Rest of your friends scared.” Her gaze falls to the stack she’s gathering, checking something off on the top page and then sliding the ID back to Calum.

“They’d probably laugh at me if they knew I was here.”

“Laugh at you?”

“Tell me--why do you think I’m here?”

A moment passes between them. Though it takes up more like several seconds, time feels froze as Freya studies his face. Calum wants to reach up and readjust his hat out of a nervous habit. He wants to take it back. But more than anything, he wants to know if he has a shot. If it’s worth really pursuing.

“I think you’re here to test a theory. Maybe, just maybe you’re here because of Vanessa too,” she smiles as it says. Like she knows that isn’t the truth but she doesn’t want to give into Calum.

And while it’s not the answer he was hoping for, Calum takes it. She wants to play a game and he can be down for that.

*****

She wants to reach out for his hands. They sit next to each other in the lounge chairs Calum keeps lined around his pool. But Freya thinks twice about it. The bulbs dangle above them casting an amber hue onto the water, a stark contrast to the twilight pressing evening closer to night’s full darkness. Freya does regret it. She regrets not leaving her teasing response just to testing a theory. She knew what Calum was fishing for, what he was hoping to confirm when he came back by himself.

Maybe it was just where she was then. Then she thought she could give more. Now she realizes she can’t. She likes it when she’s dating someone and they can decide on a random Sunday for errand runs. She likes having them around. And not that Calum wouldn’t be around. Tours didn’t happen all the time. But they did run long. And who the hell knows where she’d be in eight months after she graduated. Her life wasn’t stable--she wasn’t tied to the West Coast like Calum was.

Her life was full of variables. Ones that she didn’t really plan on trying to solve until closer to Christmas in the spring right before graduation. And she didn’t want to give Calum any more false hope. It wasn’t set in stone that she’d be staying in LA and it wasn’t set in stone that she could handle the long departures. Calum deserved someone that was more sure of themselves.

“I think having regrets is no good anyway,” Freya says, finally breaking the long silence between them. “Having them doesn’t change what happened anyway.” But that doesn’t change the fact that you still regret this, Freya thinks to herself.

“I used to believe love could overcome any obstacle.”

Freya turns to look to Calum and catches thhe way the stubble on his chin from the few weeks he’s gone without shaving halos just a little in the lights. “Used to? The right person, the right love--”

Calum shakes his head. “Now I think people loving me means that they love themselves and they can tell me what they want or need. No guessing. No games.”

“Still sounds a lot of a hell lot like overcoming obstacles.”

“But it’s not a dream. It’s tangible. It’s not me daydreaming up in the clouds. It’s me--right here. Right now. Knowing seeing what it means more than anything else that all the shit I was thinking of as a kid really needed just to be put on the ground level for me.”

“What-what do you mean?”

“I mean as much as it fucking sucks that you’re telling me no, I know you’re doing it for the right reasons. I-there’s like this thing with me. I watch people. I don’t walk into a room of strangers and become the center of attention. I don’t like people all that much, but I care. You know? I care about the people I put into my life and I want them to do well and succeed. I want what’s best for them. It’s not always easy to want that, but innately, I do, I think. Deep down I want what’s good for people. And maybe love is doing the hard things, you know.”

He pauses. Freya watches the way he drops his head, fingers threading through the curls. She keeps quiet. There’s something more, something deeper to the words. “And you’re doing the hard thing. Whether it’s for me or not is debatable,” Calum continues. “But I think love is doing the hard things.”

“You said that having some space was important to you. And while I understand that, like you do need to be your own person in a relationship--”

“Your reasons or how you want to justify it to yourself for me isn’t something I need. You already said that you know what you expect and like out a relationship and that the touring would be too hard for you. Set boundaries for you. What good does it do to justify it to me?”

“So you know I’m not being an asshole, Calum. For fuck sake.”

“No, no, I-shit. I didn’t mean it like that. I meant--who are boundaries really for? What do they do?”

“I guess they do protect the person making them. But I’m not trying to be an asshole to you. I swear.”

Calum looks up from the cement of his background lining the pool to the glossy sheen coating Freya’s eyes. They’re black in the settling night. But Calum knows they’re more like a medium brown--dark enough to get lost in them, but when they catch the light just right, they can feel like an enchanting spell sucking him in.

“Freya, you are a sarcastic son of a bitch. But an asshole to those that don’t deserve it, never.”

She sucks on her teeth, swatting at his bicep. “Take that back.”

Calum leans onto his left elbow, closing the gap between them just a little. A smile lifts his lips gently. “Never.”

“We’ve both been burned. Is it bad I didn’t want that again?”

“No. I used to say love is a scam. So I don’t think I’m necessarily the poster boy for relationships.”

“But admit it, you hoped this was the one so you wouldn’t be the odd man out.” His brows furrow at her comment. Freya gives him a soft smile. “Two of the guys are engaged. But all three of them are in a relationship.”

He sighs, gazing dropping from her face. “Maybe I was hoping so. Is it bad of me to want to be in love?”

“No. I told some kids that my boyfriend was Shermar Moore,” Freya admits with a laugh. “I was working at a summer camp and one girl saw his picture on my phone. It was my lockscreen for the longest time. So I just went with it. Well, I was spurred in part because of Drew who was a fucking creep and wouldn’t leave me alone. But I did fantasize about it. Dream of being in love with some famous and the limelight. Shit at that point, I hadn’t even dated anyone either. So another part of it was a desire too.”

“Is that part of it too? Worried about what trolls and whatever will say?”

“Oh, no one who doesn’t know shit about it can make me get outside myself.” Freya laughs but reclines into the cushions of the chair. “But maybe it’s a little bit of it. That’s too many voices talking all about you. It’s a lot of noise and some of it has to bleed through you know. Even if you’re careful and you work not to take it in, some does, right?”

“I don’t think humans were created to be able to handle that much criticism or even love and adoration. Our brains can’t handle it. So yeah, a little bit seeps in. But you keep that door closed as much as you can. You talk to people that also get it. Fuck, you even get a therapist.”

“Or a dog,” Freya says before turning her head to watch Duke laying inside next to the back door.

“And a dog,” Calum corrects.

“Excuse me, you get a therapist and a dog.”

“Tell me something.”

“I’m listening,” Freya returns, looking back to Calum.

“Before you go tonight, tell me the thing you’re going to cherish between us.”

“Will you do the same?” Calum nods at the question but doesn’t respond verbally as he gazes at her.

“Do you want to answer now?”

“Are you leaving now?”

“I-I didn’t think you wanted me to stay.”

“I want you to stay as long as you feel comfortable. And then when you leave, the parting thing we have is the good, the best of us.”

“What if I stay until dawn?”

“Then you stay until dawn. Though, I think it’s safe to say both of us will pass out by 3 AM.”

“That was the most ridiculous thing I think I’ve ever done,” Freya laughs. Remembering the same she spent a Friday night after a shift at Calum’s place. He had a birthday party on Saturday along with a vet appointment with Duke. And then Sunday, Freya had we weekly lunch with her friends that she couldn’t miss. So Calum asked her if she wanted dinner Friday night at his place. Which she said yes to, but then it turned into them doing a movie marathon. Which then turned into Calum betting her that he could stay up longer than her. But they ultimately passed out around 3 in the morning on Calum’s couch.

“Thankfully, I did not miss Duke’s vet appointment that time,” Calum tacks on.

“Yeah, no thanks to me waking you up half an hour before it.”

“That darlin’ is what I call details.”

“No, I call that a very important fact,” Freya defends sitting up. “Duke would’ve been late twice if not for me.”

Calum giggles at her incredulous look. She always got heated fast, though she knew when it was serious things and when it wasn’t. “It wasn’t him paying for the visit.”

“So you ought to kiss the ground I’m standing on right now because you didn’t have to pay anything like a cancellation fee.”

“You’re not standing on any ground right-” the sentence doesn’t get the wind to complete itself when Calum watches her stand up. “Or maybe you are standing up.”

Freya hears him, but she gazes up to the sky. Trying to look past the twinkle of his backyard lights. There’s not much to see due to the light pollution. But the sounds capture her attention next. His neighborhood’s almost been mostly quiet. But with the twinge of the summer’s heat fading, Freya can hear the last bit of people outside. A dog barks into the night and there’s the crunch only tires on gravel and asphalt can give. There’s a hum in the night that Freya can feel in her bones.

It’s hard not to fall in love with the sounds of the night. It’s hard not to romanticize this, how possibly if things were different she could find herself at some point always standing in the middle of this backyard listening to the sounds of the night, having Calum beside her or maybe Duke when he’s gone and just letting herself go to the buzz. In all honesty, Freya craved stability. Always having something to come back was her dream. But in that dream it was a partner who would be there for every dinner. A shared space that was full with both of their presences.

“When you think about coming home what’s there?” Freya asks. “Like, in ten years, what’s in your home when you walk inside?”

Calum closes his eyes, bringing the picture to his mind’s eye. “Like, the truth of what I see?”

“The truth,” Freya confirms.

“Two kids, a dog for sure. Maybe two. A wife. A lot of laughs. Being knocked over with hugs. Maybe a movie that hasn’t quite been paused catches my ears. Maybe it’s summer and my mum’s over too. Because she wants to be around the kids as much as possible. And my sister--she comes over when she can too. So we have to figure out what to cook because it’s a family dinner night. I’m mostly likely in Australia. But I could be somewhere else. Just not LA. I don’t think I could have kids here.”

“That sounds lovely, Calum.”

“But I am scared. My parents divorced. What if it doesn’t work out?”

“That wasn’t your fault. And if we heal from our trauma before having kids then maybe some of our fears won’t come to reality.”

“And if it does.”

“Then we know the boogeyman is real and sometimes we can do our best but things that are meant to happen will still happen.”

“Your parents are divorced too, right?” Calum remembers her mentioning a distinction between her mother’s house and her father’s house. But she hadn’t outright stated that her parents were divorced, just alluded to it.

“Yeah. My dad remarried. He seems happy.”

“What about you? If you closed your eyes and thought about yourself in 10 years, where are you?”

“I technically asked what do you see in your home when you walk inside 10 years from now.”

“Oh, come off it,” Calum laughs, throwing a dismissive wave her way.

“But,” she giggles and then closes her eyes. The breeze blows across her face and she lifts her chin up to catch as much of it as she can. Then she speaks, “I don’t know. Home’s full of the people I love. And I feel stable. I’m not worried about what I’m going to do weeks from now when something inevitably has to change. Because nothing’s going to change. Or at least, I’m not anticipating change. I think that’s what I’m sick of. I’m sick of dealing with change and constantly moving around and not knowing what the next year is going to look like. I’m tired of looking over my shoulder and planning. I just want to be still.”

“You did the whole back and forth between houses, huh?”

“Yeah. I always felt like I was playing two versions of myself when I was younger. I had to be one way around my mother and one way around my father and according to my therapist, the constant games of charade fucked me up a little.”

“How often did you go between their houses?”

“Every weekend.”

Calum sucks in air through his teeth, “Yikes. Yeah, no wonder you want stability.”

“Oh, thank you Dr. Hood. Tell me something I don’t know.”

“Well this is a question so it’s not something you don’t know, but is the thought of me being gone for months at a time remind you of that? Like, you’d have to be one way while I was here and then another way when I was gone?”

Freya shrugs. But it’s right on the nose. “I’d have to learn to be with you and then be without you. And all I have are switches. No dimmers. I’m either on or I’m off. And I-I’m working on it. But I’ve got a long way to go.”

Calum scoffs, whispering mostly to himself. “All I have are switches. No dimmers.” It’s not a taunt to her. It’s not him blowing her concern off. It’s recognition that colors his tone. It’s the sigh when hearing something that connects so deeply it takes all the oxygen from lungs with it.

“And I swear to Christ, Calum, if you make a Lowe’s or Home Depot joke, I will extract your ankles from you right here right now.”

“Extract? What the hell?” Calum laughs.

“Broken ankles heal,” Freya returns with a smirk. Her face is lit mostly from above due to continued standing position but Calum catches the way her lips move.

“Remind me to really never piss you off. Between your ability to throw axes and the time you told me about putting ham on a girl’s car, I don’t think I want that kind of trouble in my life.”

“I only put the ham on the car because my friend was heartbroken and she was a cunt for cheating.”

“Yeah, see that’s what I mean,” Calum points out, his index finger swirling in a circle in front of her.

“I could’ve slashed her tires too.”

“I think ruining her paint job was more than enough.”

Freya places her hands on her hips, looking down at Calum. “I’ve got some anger issues too. Did I mention that?”

They laugh but Calum recovers first to speak. “I hadn’t noticed it before. Thank you for telling me that. But in all seriousness, Freya, the boundaries you have make sense. I hope you continue with therapy as well,” he states with a giggle. “But it’s not easy to look back at yourself and realize ‘Oh shit, maybe I don’t want that thing again because that actually fucking hurt’. And do something about it. That takes a lot of strength.”

“Thanks, Calum. And I will continue with this therapist for the rest of the school year because it’s free. Shoutout to some universities for having really accessible mental health resources.”

Freya finally sits, facing Calum. He keeps his gaze averted. But it doesn’t bother her. “What’s the intention behind telling me I can stay as long as I want? Is it to get me to change my mind? Just earlier both of us were near tears and now we’re walking down memory lane. Sharing things we hadn’t shared yet.”

“I want as much of you as I can get before you’re gone. Selfish, right?” The tears are back, she can hear them in his voice.

“No. A bit of your masochism showing, certainly.”

“You ever know something’s bad for you, but you want it anyway? You want the pain anyway?”

“I mean considering both of us are littered tattoos, pain’s not something we’re too worried about.”

Calum wishes he didn’t laugh, not even the short burst of laughter. “Someone’s coping with humor.”

“Someone’s self flagellating.”

“Can I be honest?”

“Of course.”

“I don’t want you to go. But I don’t want you to hurt yourself either.”

“Maybe love is doing the hard things. You said that yourself.”

Calum swallows hard and his voice only comes out in a whisper. “I know I did.”

Freya blinks away the blur of tears. But as soon as they clear, more replace them. Her voice is tight as she speaks. “Doing the hard things suck though. Don’t think this is easy.”

“It’s because it’s the hard thing,” Calum returns. He wants to smile and manages to get a small one but he knows. Freya’s going to leave. She won’t stay.

“My favorite thing,” she starts and Calum exhales hard. There it is--the confirmation. The sentence gets caught in her throat so she pauses to clear it, work the tears down to at least speak. God, why couldn’t it have been easy. “My favorite thing between us, about us, whatever you want to label it as, is that we could also be honest. And even if it was burning waffles or ducking paps to watch a movie for an anime that you had no idea anything about because I wanted to go desperately and you had to Google a summary during the previews, we were always honest with each other.”

“I want to put it out there that you only told me that it was for an anime as I was buying the tickets. So I had zero time to prepare beforehand.”

“I told you the name of it the Monday before we saw it.”

“And admittedly, I forget it the second after you said it.”

“Fair enough, Calum. Fair enough.”

Calum spins in the chair and takes her hand. The first time they’ve touched today. Normally, Freya was more than happy to give out hugs but when Calum opened the front door, she have a half smile and stepped inside. If he could go back to earlier, he’d tell himself that was the first sign.

His thumb passes gently over the butterfly on her left hand. “The thing I’m going to cherish is that you made me feel sixteen again. My entire life changed at sixteen and I felt pretty invincible. I was also scared and excited. I was going to be in a band, like a one with lots of records and I don’t know--I only had that dream to believe in because I damn sure did not have a back up. It was before the downs. And I don’t regret the hard times either. But you’re the first person in a long time that gave me those butterflies. Assumed I was just never going to feel them again and I wasn’t a good person before, not as good as I could’ve been. But you gave me something to be good for again. Getting your text made my whole fucking day. And you-god, you cared about so many things. I bought books you recommended and couldn’t wait to talk about them with you. I remembered the kind of person I want to be. So thank you. For making me feel sixteen again in the cheesiest way possible but also in the best way possible too. That things are worth giving a shit for and that we can let people in and it won’t always burn.”

“Just a little sting.”

Calum nods. “Just a little sting.”

Freya brings his hands to her lips, pressing a soft kiss to the right one. Her sniffle is loud amongst the hum of the night. “If it weren’t for the fact that my eyeliner is tattooed to my face it would probably be running. I’m sorry it has to hurt at all. But-but I’m hopeful.”

“Hopeful?”

“Hopeful that we’ll get what we need out of life.”

He nods again, watching the tears track down her cheek. “We will.”

Her hands gently slip back out of his grasp and she uses the back of her wrist to press under her nose. The tremors shake her hands, so she shakes them before standing. Calum cranes his neck up, words about to fall from his lips. But she cups his cheek and smiles at him. “Don’t. There’s nothing else to say.”

It happens just as he blinks. He sighs, eyes closing to steel himself. Because there’s always so much else to say. And then her lips are pressing to his forehead. It last long enough for Calum to take hold of her thighs instinctively want to pull her in closer to him.

Then she’s gone. His hand slides down the rough denim and Freya’s walking to the edge of the backdoor. Duke picks up his head but doesn’t move much else. “Oh yeah, you don’t need to move. You know everyone comes to you, huh?” She gives him a few pats and scratches. “I’ll send you something for your adoption day, okay, love? And you might hate wearing it or you might love eating it. But be on the lookout for the mailman. He’ll have something from me.”

Calum doesn’t say anything as she says her goodbyes to Duke. She kisses the top of his head too and he thinks she might’ve whispered something else but he’s not certain from his spot on the chair. The swish of the tassels on Freya’s jeans signal her and the click of her heeled boots tell Calum she’s walking farther from him. The latch in the fence clicks and the wood around the hinges creak as she presses into the door. There’s a soft thud as the door shuts and then Calum can’t hear anything over the cough he uses to try and cover the tightness in his chest, can’t see anything in the blurry vision of his tears

She’s just gone.

******

When the front door bell sounds, Calum doesn’t think much of it. It could be a package or someone selling something. So he pushes up from the kitchen table and heads to the door. There on his porch is a light blue box with white bones on it. The subscription box that Calum gets already came. But then he notices an index card with a handwritten address on it. He picks it up. Right there in the return address is Freya’s name. He sucks in a breath and then looks to see who it’s addressed to: Duke Hood + Calum.

“Duke,” Calum calls out, stepping back inside to the house. He closes the door with his foot. The click of paws let him know the old man’s heard his call. “A little early birthday present has arrived just for you.”

He walks deeper into the living room and sets the box on the coffee table. Inside holds an olive green harness, treats, and a card. Calum laughs as Duke presses his snout against the bag of treats. “Alright, alright. I get it.”

Duke happily munches on one of the chews from the bag and Calum opens the card. A different letter slips out into his lap. He can see the ink and lettering pressing through to the other side. His heart hammers, but he forces himself to turn back to the card. “Dear Duke,” Calum pauses to see if Duke responds but his investigation continues on the treat. “I mean, fair enough.” Calum continues to read the card written by Freya, “Even though only the universe knows your true birthday, this card, harness, and bag of treats is meant to mark you sticking it out with your pops for yet another year. To spare you the grumps about a very cute hawaiin shirt I, instead, got a badass harness. Now you’ll be the coolest guy on the block. Happy Birthday/Adoption Day. With Love, Fre.”

Duke, done with the treat, looks to Calum and settles next in front of his folded legs. “Oh, so much work eating a treat.”

But Calum reaches down to gently pats at his tummy. The front of the car is cute, Calum finally recognizes. A cartoon white dog is drawn on it with large pink glasses against a yellow background. There’s no telling where she found it at. Calum looks down to the handwritten letter on printer paper. What would Freya possibly have to say?

Calum hadn’t had the guts to press send on any of the texts he drafted in the three months since they last talked. He wasn’t sure if he could. He is sure that if Freya hadn’t wanted anything to do with him, she would’ve said so, and she wouln’t have sent this box for Duke. His fingers tremble as he unfolds the letter.

Calum,

I figured you heard me tell Duke he was going to get a gift. And I knew I couldn’t not deliver on my promise to him. But I do apologize if it crosses any line. Please let me know too--if it crossed any boundaries.

I hope you’re well. Congrats on the latest album too.

With Love,

Freya.

P.S. I saw you a couple times drafting a text to me but never seeing one go through. And if you’re asking why I hadn’t sent a text either, know it was fear too. And me not being sure if keeping it open like that between us would only do more harm than good. So I’m sorry. But I am here, in the sense that to the best of my capacities, I can try to be here.

*****

Her bag’s slipping off her shoulders but she finally gets the key into the lock and gets her front door open. She sighs as she falls into the ugly blue apartment door and all but flings herself into her place. The stack of mail in her hands barely makes it to the edge of the kitchen counter too. It was just one of those days and Freya couldn’t be mad at herself. Everyone had days like this.

Putting her keys up and getting her backpack next to the couch, she settles into the stools at the kitchen counter to sort through the mail. One’s a bill from the dentist she visited a few weeks back. The one thing her student health insurance didn’t cover. But she couldn’t complain.

There are few junk flyers that she immediately tosses. And it’s her name scrawled in a almost all caps that catches her eyes before she even gets finished with the rest of the pile. In the top corner for the return address she catches the name: Calum Hood + Duke

“Mail from Duke, what a surprise.”

But the real surprise is Calum’s name. It’s just a plain white envelope with a stamp and the city mark it was mailed from. Freya pops it open and sees a sheet of legal pad paper folded up.

Freya,

Thank you for Duke’s gift. The chews are a hit. The harness is much appreciated for our walks. Though, I think they’re more like walks for me. And Duke gets a little exercise in before he tuckers out. But I don’t fault him. No lines were crossed. So no need to worry about that.

I think I like the idea of mailing letters more than I do like texting. But I understand. Doing the hard thing sucks. It always has and always will. Do what you need to for yourself.

Thank you. I wouldn’t normally do this. But there’s a couple songs--they’re about you. I wanted to give you a warning before you listen to it. If you listen to it, I guess I should say.

Best of luck with your last year of school. You’ll have that Master’s in no time and then maybe soon you can take over the Library of Congress like all your evil plans have laid out. (I know, I know. Not what your Library Studies degree does. But I still think you should.)

With Love,

Cal

Freya chuckles at the Library of Congress comment. She picks up her phone and finds Calum’s thread. It’s easy to want to tell him that she can’t take over the Library of Congress and that she’s glad the treats went over well and that the harness was really more of an accessory to make sure Duke looks like a badass.

But she knows--she knows the ease got her into a pickle before. It’s why she stopped things before they got more serious. But was fear going to always predict what she was going to do in her life? Maybe the ease of things was a sign to continue. But if what if things got too far? WOuld be able to handle Calum being gone? Would she inevitably get her heart broken? And sure no amount of contemplation can predict things like this, but she did want to play with that risk no matter how fucking easy it was in the moment.

With a frustrated sigh, Freya drops her face into the forearms. Her phone is still in her grip with the movement. “It’s never fucking easy is it!” she shouts into her apartment.

There’s silence that engulfs her but it gives no response.

[angelaiswriting]

25 | (JATP) Alex & twin!sister!Nancy

✏️ Pairing (sorta, but not really): Alex & twin!sister!Nancy

✏️ Summary: It’s been twenty-five years, but Nance is still mourning the deaths of her brother and her friends. Life hasn’t exactly been going in the right direction since 1995 — it never has, though, ever since she has memory — but little does she know her daughter Sarah is about to find out that Uncle Alex and Sunset Curve are back as ghosts and playing with an old school friend. (Not requested)

✏️ A/N: Many thanks to @themazeskies for introducing me to this fandom ✌🏻 this story def wouldn’t be here without you. (Thank you for feeding my need for angst!) To the rest of y’all: enjoy! Angie and I sort of created a little universe of events and stuff with these characters, so if you wanna read more, just let me know. 🥰

✏️ Warnings: sad/angst (but also fluff? if you squint?); mentions of death (but that’s the show?); slight hint to a past use of drugs.

✏️ Notes: flashbacks in italics; lyrics in bold and italics.

✏️ Word Count: 6,472

It happens suddenly. One day she’s… normal, one would say — doing her things, carrying on with her life, helping her daughter prepare her things to leave home as soon as high school ends — and the next she’s whole again.

She hasn’t felt that kind of whole in twenty-five years.

Alex used to call it their twin link, back in the day, when putting up with their parents and their falling-out marriage seemed to be the worst thing they had to endure. Lex… 

There’s a treacherous tear running down her cheek and when her brain registers it, it’s almost too late. She feels it on her jaw, threatening to fall down onto the test she’s grading. Her mind almost anticipates what’s about to happen — the tear will dangle from her jaw for a moment, and then it’ll eventually land onto one of the words one of her students wrote, and it will stain it. But her hand is quicker, and it wipes that tear away before it’s too late.

Twenty-five years.

Her throat knots up with the tears she has been trying so hard not to shed. The anniversary of his death is coming up quickly, and with a son off at college and a toxic ex-husband still fighting to spill money out of her, she feels the loneliness and the weight of it all even more. It’s in her limbs when she wakes up, and it stays perched on her shoulders throughout the day, until it’s finally time to go to bed. And to start it all over again.

She’s managed twenty-five years without him, so she reasons that she can manage twenty-five more — it’s not like she has a choice. She promised it, after all, too long ago to even remember when, exactly, but that was one of the things they had both promised each other — that they’d have a happy life; that they’d fight for it, no matter the cost, no matter where they’d be in the world, if together or if apart. Life had spinned the roulette and the ball had landed on apart, but that had been out of their control.

“Mom? Mom, are you listening?”

Sarah’s standing there, fingertips digging into the cushioned back of the couch — her baby girl now at the threshold of adulthood. Time really does fly in hindsight.

“I said I’m taking Lex on a run,” she says, brows furrowing as she lets the dog’s leash dangle in her hold, almost as a way to catch her mother’s attention. “Are you okay? Did Dad call again? Do you want me to call Jake?”

She shakes her head and only then, when her gaze drops to the kitchen table, does she realize she’s been gripping onto the red pen in her left hand with more force than necessary. “I’m okay, just thinking. Don’t be too late, you still have school tomorrow.” And although that’s true, her voice comes out soft and tired, and all of a sudden she knows tears are about to come. “Have fun,” she adds before her daughter can speak.

A pet to Lex’s furry head, and the dog has sprinted into a messy run towards the entrance door.

“You know you can talk to me.” Sarah’s standing in the corridor, but her head is poking into the room, a hand gripping the door frame. It’s a weird sight, albeit not unfamiliar — a boy her age, blonde hair much shorter, a happy smile on his lips, she’s seen that pose a million times in a past life. “If it’s about Uncle Alex…” There’s a long pause as the girl looks for the right words, goes over every possible ending she could come up with, but then settles for none. “You know it,” her daughter nods, and then she’s gone.

Unconsciously, she sits up straighter and strains her ears until she hears the front door open and close. Lex barks twice outside and through the open window of the living room, she can hear her daughter’s chuckle at the dog’s playfulness.

Then everything goes silent again and she’s left with that odd sensation in her soul. It’s nothing she can put her finger on, but it’s… there, and it’s something. Something she had never known she felt until that night, and something she hasn’t felt ever since. It knocks the wind out of her and as the pen falls onto the table, a sob tears its way up her throat.

It feels like home, in a way. It feels like being seventeen again — not the Zac Efron way, but it’s… again, something. Something so utterly absurd that she’s this close to slapping a hand against her forehead, but that hand just ends up clamping down onto her mouth when she feels another sob coming.

She feels the sobs more than she does the tears. They seem to shake her from the inside out — and not just from there, but from her very soul. She tells herself it’s just the anniversary — and everything else in her life going both the wrong and the right way. Her marriage in shambles, and her kids off to college, leaving her with no one but the dog she rescued some five years ago at their spot.

It has to be that. It’s all catching up this year, after all. The twenty-fifth lap around the Sun, bringing back all the memories from that night, both at the Orpheum and then in that alley. Her ex-husband trying to shatter what’s left of her life after leaving her utterly heartbroken one too many times already. Sarah going off to nursing school when the school year ends; and Jake playing his uncle’s instrument with his friends from college.

The house already does feel empty, but right now it’s almost hollow. Hollow and silent, almost expanding to infinity as she tries her best to keep herself under check — and she fails.

“C’mon, you’ve already done this countless times,” but her voice shatters on the last syllable and her lower lip quivers, and for a moment she’s blind even behind her reading glasses. “Just breathe.”

But that just breathe doesn’t hit as well as her brother’s always did, it doesn’t calm her down. She’s left feeling like she’s whole again — and more than that, like she’s part of something bigger, of a two-for-the-price-of-one kind of deal. And as she makes her way upstairs, her knees aren’t the only part of her body trembling.

There’s an old shoebox on the top shelf of her closet. It’s been there ever since the beginning and through all the relocations her family has done since the unlucky day she moved in with Michael at eighteen. It’s a pale red by now, held closed by elastic bands of every color and they’re so many because when the memory of what’s inside makes her feel like she’s starting to crumble apart again, she adds one more in the desperate attempt to keep it sealed, to keep the past inside, hidden away, almost as though by doing so, she can keep every single one of those memories locked away in a dark and recondite corner of her mind.

But not today. Today she knows she has to open it. She feels it in her bones, and probably even deeper than that. And maybe it’s about time — just open the Pandora box and see what happens, or something like that. The tears are already there; she doesn’t see what else could come out of her hidden past that isn’t already there.

Taking the rubber bands off is the hardest part. One by one, it feels like ripping off a brick from the wall she has spent almost three decades building around herself. It’s exhausting and by the time she has reached the last rubber band — the last brick — she has no tears left to shed. But that’s good; it has the taste of liberation, like she’s finally free of a choker she didn’t know she was wearing.

Almost as a joke of fate, a velvety choker necklace is what welcomes her back to the 1990s when she takes the lid off. Black and simple, it used to be her favorite. It was her lucky charm necklace, something she had somehow ended up always wearing when her brother and his group were playing.

But the stack of photographs is still there, right underneath it, and it takes her endless minutes to convince herself to pick them up. She doesn’t know how long she’s been sitting cross-legged on the floor for, but probably not as long as she thinks she has.

Her hand trembles when she picks up the first polaroid. And she feels it again, that lump of tears in the back of her throat, and then that sensation of absolute void and loneliness she has felt inside for so long.

The empty stage of the Orpheum would be unrecognizable to anyone that doesn’t know where the photo has been taken. It’s just a place like any other, but she can still feel the electricity in the atmosphere almost as though she was still there, stuck between those four walls like some sort of ghost.

She was laughing, and so was Alex. He had an arm around her shoulders, and she had one around his waist. As absurd as it could sound, to this day she can still smell him — he had a cheap perfume he wore at gigs, one he had treasured dearly, and all because it had been a present from her for their shared birthday. And that night they had been laughing because Reggie had almost tripped down the stage when Bobby had called him over.

The memory crashes over her like a wave. Luke had tried to silence their laughter to snap a good picture — and she’s sure there are better ones in that shoebox — but somehow this in particular is the one that bears the most meaning.

“Guys, please!” She can still hear her friend as clear as day, probably more clearly than she hears her students in class every day. “Can you please…

*

… please stop laughing? I’m tryna take a decent one here!”

“Sorry, bro,” but Alex is still laughing, and she is too, and in the hilarity of the moment, they end up pulling each other closer.

The flash goes off and as Luke flaps the polaroid picture, Alex gives her shoulder a squeeze before eventually turning serious.

“I’m glad you could come, Nance.” And although he’s smiling down at her from the height difference their twin bond hasn’t managed to level out, it’s clear from the look in his eyes that there’s something else lurking underneath the surface. It could be one of the billion things their parents have said — have spat out like venom in their usual style — but she can’t put a finger on one in particular.

“They can say and do whatever they want,” she says as she shakes her head. “You know that, Lex: it’s always been you above anyone else and always will be. I’d choose you in a heartbeat over them. You know I’ll always be front row for you.”

He heaves a sigh and leans his forehead against hers. His nerves are starting to act up — as usual before a performance, before he sits down and starts pouring his heart out on the drums — but she knows he’ll find his calm very soon.

“Just a little longer.” She tries to come off as reassuring, but there’s a pinch of fear — of the unknown, of failing, of having to go back — inside her at the plan they have come up with. “September is right behind the corner, then we’re both eighteen and out of that house for good. They won’t be able to stop either of us.”

“I know, I’m just… impatient.” He looks up when Bobby calls his name — they still have to rehearse their opening song for tonight. “I miss you when I’m not there, and I’m —”

“No need to be worried, Lex.” She pulls him into a side hug and breathes him in. And she doesn’t know it, not yet, but this will be the last time she’ll be able to do it. In her forties, she’ll still remember the way the fabric of his t-shirt felt against her cheek that night — soft and warm, smelling of the perfume she gave him on his last birthday; the way he playfully tugged on her braid, or how that chuckle ringed in the back of his throat. And even the way Reggie flirtingly called her just so that she would turn around. “Now go show them who’s best,” she chuckles, letting her brother go.

Watching them play always gives her a first-time kind of sensation, and there’s no stopping her from dancing around, just feeling the music. Now or Never is one of her favorite songs of theirs, and she just knows they’ll make it big. Landing a gig and playing at the Orpheum isn’t easy, but she’s looking at them — a bunch of seventeen-year olds, and she can’t but smile because they’ll hit the big time soon. Their own concerts, their own tours, no more sneaking around parents to play in a garage — but an actual career, with an actual label, and everything will be good.

And it’s almost exhilarating to know that they’re all willing to take her with them on their journey. It’s not like they’ll ever be able to get rid of Alex’s twin sister, not when they know how much they mean to each other, how important they are to each other as they wait to become of age. It’s the start of something big and she’s there with them, a bunch of kids she’s met almost by accident, and she can’t wait for tonight. The people, the Orpheum…

She jumps around, excited, and there’s nothing else. Not her parents’ venom towards Lex, not the billion and one problems at home, not even volleyball practice at school.

“Nancy!” She looks up when Reggie calls her name over Luke’s singing and when her eyes meet his, she realizes she’s tired of the endless and fruitless flirting and that she’d love to go to the school ball with him. “‘s one’s for you!” he grins, before joining the others in the chorus — Keep dreaming like we’ll live forever, But live it like it’s now or never.

She cheers, and even the girl behind her giggles as she cleans one of the tables in preparation for tonight.

The one before her is a sight that would turn into a picture in her mind with time, a photogram that would never fade, would never age. Four friends living their dream — and it’s amazing to know that one of them is the person she cares about the most in the world. She looks at them and even at forty-two, she won’t be able to think back of Bobby with contempt as he stands on that stage.

It feels like finally being a part of something bigger than just herself, even if she’s standing on the sidelines, watching someone else living the dream. She’s there for that; she’s there for them, and she will always be, wherever that’ll take them —

— She doesn’t know that ‘wherever’ is a dirty couch in a back alley. Or an ambulance that will just arrive at its destination too late. Right now it’s the Orpheum first, and then something bigger and better in the future.

When the song is over, she’s the first to clap and whistle in an empty Orpheum Theater, excitement bubbling up inside her, making her blood buzz in her veins.

“You’re the only groopie that matters,” Reggie jokes, pulling her into his side after jumping down the stage. “I’d ask you out on a post-gig burger if it wasn’t for…”

They both turn to glance at her brother and see him climbing down the stairs to the side of the stage to get to them.

“Dream on, Reginald,” he says and she laughs.

“It’s just rehearsals but you guys were killing it up there,” she smiles, intertwining her fingers with her brother’s. “I can’t believe you’re actually here.”

“And that you snuck out just to come and see us,” Bobby adds, a grin shyly stretching on his lips.

“Bold of you to assume she’s not just here for Alex!” Luke picks her up from behind, his arms wrapped tight around her waist as he spins her around.

“Put me down,” she laughs out of breath. “He’s my brother. Of course, he’s the number one reason I’m here,” she jokes.

When he eventually puts her down and they stare at each other chuckling as they catch their breaths, Reggie is the first to speak. “You’re like family to us,” he says, “you make everything else worth it.”

She smiles, through her breathlessness and the skin of her face heating up. “You guys are family for me as well.”

There’s not much silence then, not when the few workers present cheer on the guys, distracting them from the moment. She stands there, smiling softly at the bassist in front of her, and he smiles at her just as warmly.

“For the record,” she whispers, “I would have said yes to that post-gig burger.”

And he smiles, cheeks flushing pink before Luke’s Street dogs? distracts them.

She watches as they all agree — all but Bobby, for he ‘could never hurt an animal,’ as he tries to flirt with the slightly older waitress. Rose. She’s nice, and as Nancy’s found out while the boys were setting their stuff up on stage, she has a group of her own. And just as Rose has made her feel at home while she had sat all alone on one of the stools, Nance steps in to steer the guys away just after Reggie gifts her one of their t-shirts — size beautiful, and she’ll forever remember those two words with a smile on her face even years later.

“I’m sorry, they just don’t know when to stop with the flirting,” she smiles apologetically just before guiding Luke towards the exit door.

“You coming with us?”

“Later,” she nods, turning to face her brother as he’s pulling his jacket on. “I wanna make sure everything’s in order for tonight. This is your big chance, right?”

He nods. “I’ll wait for you.”

And she’ll forever regret ever speaking her next words. “Nah, it’s okay. You go on, I’ll reach you in five, ten at most. Just make sure there’s something left for me.” Twenty-five years later she still hears her own chuckle, still feels her brother’s warm cheek against her perpetually chapped lips as she presses a see-you-later kiss to his skin.

She watches him leave, and answers to his ‘see you later’ with a wave of her hand.

It’s almost unbelievable how cruel things are at times. You’re seventeen, sneaking around your parents, having fun with your brother and his friends, playing the piano for them every once in a while… and then suddenly the wheel of fortune spins again, and something as small and insignificant as a hot dog turns into a major plot point. The wind changes, and suddenly the colors start fading, the music turns fainter and fainter, until there’s nothing but static silence.

When she leaves the building fifteen minutes — and an unexpected call from home — later, all she’s in the mood for are hot dogs and her friends. She doesn’t know where Bobby has gone off to, but she doesn’t pay it much attention as she wraps herself into her hoodie.

The night air isn’t too chilly, but there’s something to it that brings goosebumps to her skin. She’s nauseous, and she doesn’t know whether it’s because she’s just got off the phone with her yelling mother, but she doesn’t care. They’re not going back home tonight anyway — little does she know that she won’t be going home for a completely different reason than just celebrating with her brother and the guys.

The man selling street dogs out of his car greets her with a smile before she walks past him to fix herself a quick dinner. She’ll never understand how they’re yet to catch some disease from the weird food they eat before gigs, but she won’t have much more time to wonder.

“The guys are inside,” he tells her when she hands him the price, and all she can do is thank him with a grin on her lips, her stomach closed into a knot, before making her way to the makeshift dining area.

She stops in the entryway and quickly glances around before she spots them on the couch. Luke and Alex seem to have fallen asleep, but Reggie’s staring back at her and she finds herself blushing.

“Won’t you finish your hot dog?” she asks as she walks up to them, a smile on her face that slowly leaves its place to a frown when the boy doesn’t answer, doesn’t react in any way.

It’s then that the nausea gets stronger, and somehow she’s not in the mood to eat anymore.

“Reg? Cat got your tongue?” She fails at that chuckle and when she’s close enough, she almost crouches forward to shake him by his shoulder. “Prank’s over, your staring is unsettling.”

His head falls backward, against the back of the dirty and tattered couch, and it’s then that her heart starts beating in her temples. She stares at him, frowning, her hot dog still in her right hand.

“Reg?”

Her gaze moves down to his chest and suddenly, the place’s silence becomes deafening. She hears her heartbeat — she feels it everywhere in her body — just as she hears her breathing almost scratch every time she exhales. Her subconscious is quicker at reacting: her hand lets go of her friend’s shoulder all of a sudden, and it truly does feel like the contact burned her palm in a sickening way, but it takes her a full minute for the conscious part of her brain to catch up.

His chest is not heaving.

She gasps, and her hot dog drops down onto Reggie’s knee first and then to the floor.

Frantically, her gaze swipes over Luke and Lex. She’s aware of everything and nothing at once. Her palms turn clammy; her breathing gets deeper, it almost hurts her lungs; and just as her eyes move from Luke to her brother, she knows she’s about to throw up. It’s cold — despite the place being sheltered, despite Lex’s too-big hoodie on her: goosebumps tug painfully at her skin. And when her wandering eyes stop on the person she loves most in the world, her knees threaten to give out and make her trip over Reggie’s extended leg.

“Lex?” but her voice is a whisper. Her chest hurts as she seems to move in slow motion; her head is empty and heavy at the same time and oh my God, please, just —

She doesn’t know how she’s managed to take those three steps to stand in front of her brother, and even twenty-five years later, that still feels like the hardest thing she’s ever had to do.

He seems fine. She looks at him and there’s nothing weird on his face; he’s stained his shirt, but that can be fixed. Reggie could lend him his flannel. Hell, he could wear one of their Sunset Curve t-shirts!

“Lex.”

She doesn’t know she’s falling until her knees crash onto the rough concrete of the floor.

His hand is still warm when she gets a hold of it.

And she can’t move. The nausea almost makes her head spin, and she feels… empty. It starts slowly. It’s a feeling as tiny as a pinhead at first, but it grows quickly, like a black hole that eats and swallows her whole, quicker and quicker the more the momentum picks up.

“C’mon, it’ll be September soon… You have a concert tonight.”

But he doesn’t answer. And the more she stares at him, the more that whisper in the back of her head grows in volume —

— Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. —

— until it echoes in her mind and her ears and —

“An ambulance is coming,” someone says — to her, to the three boys in front of her, she doesn’t know, it doesn’t matter, nothing does. “I’m sorry, if we had realized sooner —”

But she’s already turning her head to the side to throw up.

The strongest memories of that night are the goosebumps, the cold, the nausea. And then that extreme loneliness building up inside her, quickly growing like some kind of alien parasite, rooting her to the spot, freezing her mind in a loop of Lex Lex Lex that just goes on indefinitely.

And then the flashing lights of an ambulance and Bobby calling her name — Nance? Nance? Nan—

*

—nce?”

She whips around so quickly she almost loses her balance on the heels she’s wearing. No one has called her ‘Nance’ in forever, even Michael preferred ‘Nancy’, but coupled with that weird feeling that has been rocking her for a couple of weeks now, it truly does feel like suddenly being back in some familiar place.

It takes her a couple of seconds before her sight zeroes in on the Trevor Wilson.

“Nancy?” The smile on his lips is unsure as he makes his way up to her between rows of clothes. He hasn’t changed since the last time she’s seen him, but at the same time she stares at him like he’s grown ten heads; like her brain can barely comprehend what’s going on. “That really you?” He has colorful clothes in his arms, she notices as her brain struggles to keep on functioning smoothly.

“Hey.”

“It’s been, what? Ten years?” Bobby’s never been good at small talk, and she realizes now that Trevor hasn’t become much better, not even after the decade that has passed since the last time she’s seen him at a teacher-parent meeting. “You look well.”

“Thank you.” Her heart is in her throat — it feels like choking, like gasping for air she can’t get —, and for a moment she forgets all about having a teenage daughter she needs to help find a dress for her school ball.  “You look well, too.” It’s lame, but she can’t even attempt a chit-chat with the only one of them that got away on his legs.

“How have you —” He sighs, and he probably catches up with what she’s thinking — the way her brain has stopped working, the way it must be back into that loop of loss first and drugs later, when they had turned their backs on each other. “How are you?”

“It’s been forty-two years of shit, Bobby,” she sighs. “But the kids make it good. I hope Carrie’s doing well. She was a good pupil.”

“I’m not…” I’m not Bobby, that’s what he’s about to say. I’m not Bobby anymore. I haven’t been Bobby in twenty-five years. Bobby’s dead.

But Bobby isn’t dead, he didn’t share his friends’ fate, so he shuts up. He still remembers the black eye she gave him the very day Trevor Wilson’s first song — Luke’s song — came out, and she reads it right on his face, in the way his expression changes and falls in defeat.

“I’m helping my daughter with her dress now. I should go.” The smile she gives him is tired and tense, and she doesn’t put much effort into coming off as a happy woman for him, not after the bad joke he pulled in the past. “It was good seeing you. I wish you well.”

And with that she turns around, swallows the lump in her throat and for a moment thinks back to Lex. Lex, and the fact that she didn’t get the chance to see him age into the man Bobby’s had the chance to become. To Luke, and the success he would have had with his talent. And then to Reggie, whose open eyes still haunt her to this day — and although she’s grateful for her children, she can’t help but wonder how things would have turned out if she and Reg would have had a chance.

“Mom? You look like you’ve just seen a ghost.” Sarah is standing there, at the entrance of the changing rooms area, and although there’s her usual concerned frown on her face, she truly does look like a princess in that navy dress she didn’t want to try on.

Nancy chuckles — she wouldn’t have thought of those words, but boy, are they spot on! “Just someone I used to know. So, what do you think of that?” she asks, desperately trying to steer the conversation into another direction. “I wasn’t always a mom, I used to have good taste in outfits, too.”

Sarah laughs at her joke and she does, too. And for a moment, a split second, she sees her brother in the way her daughter laughs and looks away for a moment. But that memory is as short and quick as a flash, and she doesn’t have time to think about it for too long.

“Yeah, I know.” She’s almost on the verge of spilling the beans — that she and Jake have gone through her secret box with all her memories, but she catches her tongue just in time. There’s no need to upset her mother, not when she’s been in her head so much these past two weeks. “But I like it, and you could do my hair…”

An hour later, they’re walking back to the car, bags with food and anything Sarah might need for her ball in their hands.

Bobby — Trevor — is there, and Nancy holds his gaze for a few seconds as she walks by. She barely has the time to see Carrie’s head disappear into her father’s car before the door closes with a slam. They stare at each other, but it’s not Nancy and Trevor: it’s a pregnant Nance standing in front of a Bobby whose face is about to meet her left hook. It’s tense and silent, and there’s the same guilt in his eyes that he had back in 1998.

How did things go like that? She’s had twenty-five years to look for an answer to that nagging question, but she’s never found one — not in the three years she’s spent with her feet in two different worlds, and not even after the birth of Jake in ‘98.

“I was over at the Molinas’ to help Carlos with his homework yesterday,” Sarah says as she lays her new dress down onto the back seat of the car. “Did you know Julie’s started playing again?”

Nancy stares at her daughter for a long minute and the longer she stands there, as she finishes putting the groceries in the trunk of the car, the more that soft smile stretches on her lips. “Really?”

Sarah nods. “She apparently has a band of holograms or something now. Carlos doesn’t exactly know how that works, but says they’re cool.”

“Her mother would be so proud.” The engine roars to life and when she turns to check that nothing or nobody is behind them as she puts the car in reverse, she catches her daughter’s questioning expression. “She had a group as well.”

The Sunset Curve demo her kids still listen to starts playing then, and Nancy has to be careful not to jolt the car to a stop — she didn’t remember it still being in the CD player, she thought Jake had brought it to college when he had left after spring break — he has been contemplating making his friends listen to his mom’s friends’ songs for months, but she must have been mistaken.

The silence is heavy, almost tense. It has the weight of a being alive of its own life, pressing down on her shoulders and robbing her of her breath as she leaves the parking lot of the mall and she heads back home. It’s always a pang to the heart, every time the notes start playing and Luke gets ready to sing again. And although it hurts, although the tears are always there, ready to prickle her eyes, it’s a way to keep them alive. Twenty-five years after their deaths, and she’s still childishly hoping that playing their songs will miraculously bring them all back to life.

It’s only when the chorus sings Keep dreaming like we’ll live forever, But live it like it’s now or never — the same one Reggie had playfully dedicated to her that night — that Sarah clears her throat. “I didn’t know you knew Mrs Molina well.”

Nancy hums. “We met once, before…”

“Oh.” There’s no need for explanations, nor to wait for her mother to finish that sentence. “I didn’t know.”

“We never had the chance to get close,” she shrugs. “But I’m glad you’re going along well with her kids. How’s Carlos doing?”

Sarah laughs, and it’s in that moment that the sun starts shining again. That weird feeling of slowly-building wholeness filling her cup one drop at a time is still there, and somehow it’s still something she can’t explain — maybe the pieces of an unfinished puzzle going back to their place? or maybe just life finally starting to go in the right direction? — but it doesn’t feel as nagging with her daughter’s laughter ringing in the cabin of the car.

“He’s starting his career as a ghost hunter.”

“A ghost hunter?” A smirk tugs at her lips and it feels good, after years spent trying her hardest to do something that should have always been so natural.

“Yeah, his dad was taking pictures of the house when they were still considering selling it and one came out with three orbs. Carlos thinks it could be his mom with some friends, or just some ghosts in general, and he wanted my help to set his channel up since he knows I helped Jake and the guys with theirs.”

Nancy chuckles, and she feels light again after so long. The last time she’s felt like that was when the divorce papers had finally been finalized, probably. “So, are you? Helping him, I mean?”

“Hell yeah, I am, mom! That kid is the best kid I’ve ever babysat. He’s going through all the old stuff at his place to see if he can find anything that might help him find out whose ghost he’s dealing with.” She smiles brightly — and Nancy can’t help but mirror her expression when she sees it from the corner of her eye at a red light. “I think I’m —”

*

— going to sing for Jake’s band.

It’s a week after that afternoon in the car, and Nance is still thinking about the news Sarah has informed her of a few hours ago. Her daughter has been acting weird for a week now, and although she couldn’t pinpoint the cause at first — Sarah wouldn’t tell her —, she’s now starting to understand. Jake and his friends had a falling out with their singer Peter the day before a possibly important gig at Eats&Beats, the same one Julie and her hologram friends played at, and she’s probably been pondering her brother’s offer.

Still, it somewhat stings, for there have never been secrets between her and her girl. The pride bubbling up inside her is stronger than anything else, though, and she can’t help but smile.

It’s the first time she smiles at what had used to be her and her brother’s secret place at the beach. That alcove used to echo with the sound of their laughter a long time ago, but had quickly turned silent after that night at the Orpheum. It’s just the way things go sometimes, when you can’t make them go the way you want, when life’s outcomes are way out of your control.

It’s peaceful, and for the first time in painfully long years, she truly does feel at peace. It’s a weird, almost stressful feeling for someone who’s never exactly felt at peace in her life, but she’d like to think that this truly is the start of a new and happy chapter in her life.

Lex is with her, with his head resting heavily on her thigh, much like the day she found and rescued him — or, well, the day he found and rescued her. He’s always by her side, and somehow he knows when she needs him the most. It’s not exactly like having her brother with her but it’s… close.

“I wish you were here.” She never talks to her brother out loud, but somehow she feels the need to do just that now. The words leave her lips before she has the chance to stop them, and she finds that it doesn’t hurt as much as she had always thought it would. “The kids are following in on your footsteps more than they are mine.”

And it’s not a bad thing. At all. It’s a relief neither Jake nor Sarah have gone down the path Michael had started to take her along with him. And although Jake behind the drums is still a sight she won’t become fully used to all that quickly — she hasn’t managed to in twenty years —, it’s still comforting in a way. She watches him play with her brother’s only remaining pair of drumsticks and she feels at home.

“I’m so proud of them, and I like to think you’d be, too.” Then, she smiles again. “Sarah asked me if I believe in ghosts the other day. If I think people with unfinished business come back from the afterlife in an attempt to see it through. If I think you’d ever come back, maybe with the guys. And I…”

But her voice fails her. One of her hands comes down to caress Lex’s head while the other plays with a smooth piece of wood she’s found in the sand.

The truth is, she’s spent longer than she’d ever be comfortable admitting with her mind wondering about that same question, bouncing around like a pinball.

She doesn’t know the reason for Sarah’s weird behavior isn’t Jake and his friends asking her to join September Dream. Just as she could never imagine that last week, when Carlos Molina invited her daughter to his sister’s garage party, she saw three guys she’s only ever seen in her mother’s polaroids playing right in front of her like life has never stopped.

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[underthewingsofthblackeagle]

After her marriage with Frank Randall has failed and Claire Beauchamp flees from her violent husband, she finds refuge in the house of the Fraser/Murray family in Berlin-Wilhelmshorst. But then tensions arise between Britain (which has since left the EU) and some EU member states. All holders of an English passport are required to leave EU territory within six weeks ... and suddenly Claire's fate looks more uncertain than ever.

This story was written for the #14DaysofOutlander event, hosted by @scotsmanandsassenach​

Chapter 1: 14 Months

         "No! I can't do this, Janet!"

         Jamie's voice sounded muffled but still audible through the crack of the door leading to the kitchen of the house.

         "Didn't you watch the news, you dumbass?! In the next six weeks, all holders of English passports must leave European Union territory or they'll be deported to the Channel Islands!"

         Janet Murray sighed. Then she went on:

         "Provided that mad Vladimir de Salty Brownson of No. 10 Downing Street does not break the armistice with France, Belgium, and the Netherlands!"

         "I can't do it, Janet!"

         Jamie sounded exhausted and sad.

         For a moment, silence fell.

         "Brother! I don't know if you realize the danger this situation poses! If you won't talk to Claire, I will, and you don't want me to, do you?"

         "No way, Janet!"

         "So, you'll talk to her today?"

“Die Tür” by PhotoMIX-Company

         Claire had just come out of her room on the first floor. She had wanted to ask Janet (called Jenny) if she could help her as she always did. But now that she overheard the conversation by chance, she backed away. Quietly, she walked back up the stairs and the heavyweight that had been placed itself on her chest while listening seemed to get heavier with each step. She had come to this house fourteen months ago. It was her refuge. At least that's what she thought until now.           Claire could not remember ever feeling so safe or so happy before. Sure, she had experienced many happy moments in her youth and sure, she had felt sheltered under the care of her uncle Lamb. But, all those years, mostly in the hours before she fell asleep, doubts and fears crept into her thoughts. Doubts that she would ever really experience lasting happiness. And the fear, the constant fear of what would happen if Uncle Lamb, the last of her relatives, died? The thought of suddenly being all alone in this world filled her with trepidation. When Frank Randall came into her life, she thought she had found an answer to these worries. She was nineteen and head over heels in love, but it did not take long, however, before she realized that she had been more than wrong about this man, her now-husband. Even at an early stage in their marriage (they still lived in Cambridge where Frank taught at the university) he cheated on her. He continued to meet women from the university faculty and students he had met before their marriage regularly without interruption. And of course, he continued this behavior when they moved to America, where Frank took up a position at Harvard.              When she left Boston fourteen months ago after almost ten years of marital martyrdom, she was broken, utterly exhausted - and again frightened. Claire had gripped the outstretched hand of this strange man, who had introduced himself to her under a French name as a German citizen of British origin, like a lifeline. She was too exhausted to even think about where it all would lead her. Claire could only hope that the help he offered her would take her one step further on her path to a life of freedom and peace.           Everything had happened so fast. On the flight to Berlin, she had slept most of the time, only waking up once at Stockholm Arlanda Airport, where they had to change planes. When they arrived at Berlin Schönefeld Airport, he had woken her gently. Picking up her luggage and driving from the airport to his home (as he called it) had passed her by like a fleeting dream.

“Haus” by MichaelGaida

         Then they had finally arrived. The sight of the manor like house and the even bigger park that surrounded it, had an effect on her as if a bucket of cold water had been poured over her head. Claire suddenly felt completely awake. Then the big oak door had opened and Jenny had come out and greeted her with great kindness. A few minutes later they were all sitting in the living room, drinking tea and eating apple pie. An hour later she was lying in a freshly made bed in a room that had been prepared especially for her and was sleeping deeply. When Claire woke, she had slept for almost eighteen hours. To her surprise, a small table with a thermos of tea, a Tupperware box with sandwiches, a bowl of fresh fruits and a little vase with yellow and red tulips stood by her bed. She still remembered how the experienced care had moved her to tears. Since the last days she had spent with Uncle Lamb, nobody had cared for her like this.            With each day that she stayed in Wilhelmshorst, Claire became more and more a part of this family. Jenny had become a good friend for her, almost a sister. After a short phase in which the women had met each other in a distanced way, they opened up to each other and took more and more pleasure in doing the work in the house, going shopping or tending the garden together. Ian had become a good friend too. While Claire appreciated the practical side of Jenny, she loved talking to the man, who seemed so calm and level-headed and therefore the exact opposite of his wife. Ian the younger, Caitlin, Katherine, and Michael, the children of the Murrays, had immediately taken her to their hearts. And the feeling was completely mutual. She was grateful to have some money of her own again when the first Christmas arrived and she was able to give small presents to the children, but also the rest of the family.          And then there was ... James Alexander Malcolm MacKenzie Fraser called Jamie.          His real name he had revealed to her only after Claire had settled in with the Frasers/Murrays for a few days. He was the one who saved her in ‘a tour de force’ from a last violent attack by her husband and took her with him to Berlin. Unlike Jenny, who carried her heart on her tongue, and Ian, the level-headed thinker, she could not figure him out. He always met her with great kindness, was generous and helpful. But at the same time, he always kept his distance and remained silent most of the time.          And yet Claire felt drawn to him in an inexplicable way. For the first time, she noticed this when Jamie had business appointments in Düsseldorf for a few days. With astonishment, she realized that his absence triggered feelings of emptiness and loss in her. But whenever he returned from such business trips, her heart filled with gratitude and joy. Although there was no real reason for her to be frightened, she always felt safer when he was at home If she was honest with herself, then Claire could not deny that his presence gave her a feeling of security and peace. And then, just over six months ago, while he was on one of these business trips, she had asked herself if he was seeing women in the cities he traveled to regularly. But Claire immediately dismissed the idea. She didn't think he was such a kind of man ... and if so, it was none of her business. However, two months later (Jamie was at a conference in Stuttgart) she caught herself wondering if she was in love with him. But she immediately dismissed that thought as well. For one thing, she hadn't been sure what love was since her marriage to Frank. For another, such a thought was completely hopeless. Jamie showed no sign of a greater interest in her and how would it look if she ... No, she couldn't do that. What would Jenny and Ian think? Wouldn't it look like she was taking advantage of the situation? No, it would be best if things stayed the way they were. Once the inheritance issues were resolved, she could get her own place. She could get a job and... everything would look different. Then maybe ... if Jamie ... yes then maybe there was a chance of happiness? Love? She didn’t know.          But now she'd never find out either. All of her life in Wilhelmshorst would come to an end now, just because some politicians couldn't keep their lust for power in check. Even before she reached her room, she felt tears running down her cheeks.

“Tee” by StockSnap

         Two hours later Jenny's voice echoed loudly but friendly through the hall:

         "Claire, are you coming? Tea is ready!"

         Claire opened her door.

         "I'll be right there."

         A few minutes later, she entered the living room where Jenny had just set the coffee table. Jamie stood, arms crossed over her chest, by one of the big windows, his back turned at her.

         Then Claire's eyes fell on the table.

         "Why did you only set the table for two people?" she asked Jenny.

         "Oh, äh, uhm, Ian invited me and the kids to go to the zoo. We're about to leave..."

         "Ah."

         Claire nodded. She tried to stay calm.

         Jenny left the room and Jamie turned to her. He smiled, at least he was trying to. With his right hand, he pointed to a chair by the coffee table. Claire nodded and sat down. Jamie sat down on the small sofa, so they sat across the corner.          She reached for the teapot and poured the tea first for Jamie, then for herself. When she put the teapot back on the teapot warmer, they heard the front door slam shut and shortly afterward a car drove off the yard.          Jamie emptied his teacup and held it out to Claire, who filled it again. When she too had emptied her cup, he turned to her and said:

         "Claire, I have something very important to discuss with you."

         Although she knew what it was about, and although she had had two hours to prepare herself inwardly for this conversation, her hands began to tremble slightly. She hastily put the cup down.

         "Jamie, I know. I ... I couldn't help overhearing your conversation with Jenny in the kitchen. Please believe me, I didn't mean to eavesdrop, it was just a coincidence."

         He looked at her with his eyes wide open but didn't interrupt.

         "I watched the news on TV, of course... I knew something like that was coming. You don't have to worry. I'll return to England as soon as possible. I don't know yet what will happen or where I can live, but I'm sure I'll find a way..."

         Again Jamie looked at her with great astonishment. Claire's eyes showed the same frightened look he had seen before - fourteen months ago when he first met her. It all started that day - at a small art gallery in Boston.

[milasartblog]

Together at last

After couple of days of preparations, it has finally come: the day of performance. The audience was waiting patiently, and yet with excitement. Actors were on nerv, dancers tried not to panic, repeating their movements. Only one dancer didn't join the last training, the leading dancer and a character of the performance: Cereza. She was in a dressing room, sitting alone, looking at herself in the mirror with upset look, thinking to herself.

Cereza: Okay, Cereza, this is it, the moment you've been waiting for. Your first performance on a big stage, your dream is coming true. Sure, you have the most responsible and important role, but you have practiced a lot. You can do it.

She tried to lift her spirit, but no matter how much she cheered herself up, something was still worrying her soul. She sighed deeply and heavily.

Cereza: Why can't i enjoy it just like any human?....Even with demon powers, i feel like an useless person. Sure, i'm stronger, but still so weak.....My past doesn't make things easier either....Tom....

She clenched her fist as looked down. Then she relaxed her hand.

Cereza: No news were heard from Lucifer and Michael since the last time at the underground parking. Well, I can understand them, too many things to do in Heaven and Hell. Hope Algaron got what he deserved. And my brother....*sighs* I wish i could see him more often. I know i did a lot of bad things in the past, as a mafia member, there is no forgiveness to my actions. And yet, i wish God could see my reason behind them. But what done is done, i can't fix it.....even tho i wish i could.....Who am i kidding? I just want to be with my brother....to see him.

Her emotions scratched her soul, trying to get out. But if she do it, the make up will be ruined. With another sigh, she was about to get up and go, when suddenly arms surrounded her neck. Moreover, they were holding something. Cereza was about to use her powers, but one look stopped her. The look that made her stunned, a look at so familiar to her face.

???: You forgot your necklace, princess Okami.

Cereza couldn't believe her eyes. She tried to convince herself that it's just a game of her mind, but emotions made her turn around and see her own brother, standing just right in front of her, not as a soul in Heaven, but as....a human.

Cereza: T-Tom?

Tom: What is with such look, sister? Of course it's me, Tom.

Cereza: But i thought that-

Tom: That i got stuck in Heaven with no permission to go to human world? Well, i couldn't help myself not to see my sister, so i came here.

Cereza: But...you didn't have to....You didn't have to risk like this. What if-

Tom: I know, sister. But when i heard from sir Michael about what happened to you....i couldn't help but blame myself, for not being able to help you. I'm so sorry, i was such bad brother for you.

Cereza: What? No, you're not bad! Your sickness didn't allow you to do anything. It's not your fault.

Tom: And still...

She looked at her brother again, from bottom to top, not believing her eyes. Cereza carefully and gently held his cheeks, being afriad to wave this dream away. Or was it a dream? The touch waved her hesitation away, feeling his cheeks on her hands. She looked into his sad eyes.

Cereza: Hey, what happened to me is in the past. The more important is that you're safe in Heaven. That's what matters.

Tom: But you-

Cereza: I'm happy when you're happy too, brother. I'm fine like this, trust me.

Tom looked at her sister with smile as put his hands on hers. Cereza smiled too.

Cereza: So it was Michael, who let you go to human world. And i guess, not for a long.

Tom: Well actually, it was-

He couldn't finish the sentence as the narrator was about to announce the beginning of the performance.

Cereza: Sorry, Tom, i have to go. We will talk later. I will come to Heaven and ask Michael about you. Love you!

Tom: But that's-

And she quickly went to the stage, getting ready to start the performance. Tom couldn't help, but smile as he went to find a sit and watch the play. As everything was ready, the play started. Cereza was doing her best with her role as Okami. It was her dream to one day play such role, moreover perform a dance. And now this dream came true, even tho she was not a human anymore. Tom was standing and watching from distance, smiling and being happy for his sister. For her surprise everything went amazing, audience enjoyed it and in the end they even stood up and clapped. After the performance, Cereza immediately went to change clothes and get outside of the theater. She chaotically looked around with hope to see her brother one more time, but sighed, not finding him.

Cereza: I guess he went back to Heaven. Well, i can't blame him, he can't stay here for long time, as-

Tom: Oh, there you are. I thought i have lost you.

Cereza jumped from surprise as turned around and noticed Tom. Being stunned and puzzled by the situation, she got closer to Tom.

Cereza: Wait, i thought that-

Tom: That i went back to Heaven?

Cereza: Yeah.

Tom: Well, I couldn't explain you things fully as you had to go. And now i can. So, about the thing with me being here, well....it wasn't sir Michael who let me go. I mean, he partialy took part in it, but it's all thanks to sir Gabriel, the one who was guarding gates.

Cereza: Yes, i remember him standing next to gates. Wait a minute, Michael partialy took part in what?

The awkward silence covered siblings as Tom rubbed his head.

Tom: You see, sister...i'm staying with you here.

She couldn't believe what she heard. Her heart beated so fast from happiness and worry at the same time.

Cereza: Wait, you....are going to be here? With me?? But....how? I thought....I thought it's impossible with angels. They're-

Tom: Always following rules? Well, i thought so too. And i honestly don't know how or why, but i think sir Gabriel heard our prays and one day when i was about to go and ask God for permission, sir Gabriel suddenly came to me, gave me a paper and told me to go to human world, find you and stay with you. Being puzzled and stunned, i asked him why he was doing it. The only answer he gave to me was to not think about it as something that all angels do, especially him, just do what he told me. I couldn't thank him at that moment, so i left as fast as i could. And so...i'm here.

Cereza: That means....

Tom: I can be like you, walk around like human while being an angel.

He smiled to her as Cereza couldn't hold her tears anymore. Tom got worried for a moment, seeing her sister like this.

Tom: C-Cereza, did i-

She hugged him so tightly, not holding back her emotions anymore. She just wanted to cry, from happiness. Tom was frozen for a moment, but also not surprised by such reaction as tears began to run from his eyes too. He hugged her back, caressing her kindly, like they did when they were alive, like brother and sister. They didn't want to let each other go, being afraid to ruin this dream, which was a reality.

Cereza: I still can't believe it, brother.

Tom: Same, sister. Same

They stopped hugging each other as they smiled.

Cereza: I couldn't even think that Gabriel is capable on such things. When i first looked at him he seemed not friendly to me.

Tom: Well, he was just doing his duty. Now, let's go back home.

Cereza: Yeah. I have so many things to tell you.

They held their hands and with happiness in their hearts they walked to Cereza's home. All the way they were talking a lot, like it was years or more since they have been together last time. While they were walking, one familiar angel watched over them, and with a deep sigh and god-will-definitely-punish-me thought he came back to his shift.

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

And that's another story for our universe^^ It's been long time since i payed attention to other characters like Cereza and Tom, my bad qwq Will try to pay some attention to others^^

Cereza and Tom belong to @wildstarfan and @milasartblog (both me)

Okaria et Feria belongs to @wildstarfan and @captainthane

[jasiper]

war is hard. it’s even harder for demigods. it’s hard when the whole world is on the brink of destruction and the fate of humanity is in the hands of teenagers. but even after the victory, there is still fear, fear that will never go away because war always leaves scars.

percy is afraid of losing control. after nearly drowning akhyls in tartarus, and seeing annabeth truly fear him, he’s scared. the gods have told him time and time again that he is a danger, that he can be the reason the world falls. he was such a risk even as a kid that the gods put his life to a vote. he knows that he has proven everyone wrong by saving the world time and time again, but he still is scared. the older he gets, the more he has to lose, which means he has so much more to lose control over. his hands shake and he has nightmares where he loses control and kills people. when he dreams that he accidentally kills annabeth, he can’t sleep for two days straight. he’s scared to be around his family, to be at camp, to hold his baby sister, to be alone with annabeth. he’s scared of himself. he tries to keep his emotions under control because if he were ever to explode, things would go to hell.

annabeth is afraid of being alone. it happened when she was merely seven years old— she felt unloved by her own family, so she ran away. she thought she got it right when she made a new family, but it was ripped apart when thalia died and again when luke betrayed her. she’s alone when she’s fourteen and she’s trapped under the sky, tricked by the person she used to call her family. it happens again when percy disappears. one day he was there, the next he was gone. when she finds him, she vows to herself that he was never leaving her. never again. and in tartarus, with the curse from polyphemus that leaves her blind, thinking that percy had left again, she is awoken to find her boyfriend on the brink of death. even though they make it through hell and they survive the war, annabeth still wakes up sometimes with a feeling in her chest that she is completely and utterly alone.

jason is afraid of dying. sure, most people are, but he keeps having encounters that are too close for comfort. he died once when he saw juno in her divine form; charon asked him for a coin and then he was back in piper’s arms. then he’s drowning, and he hears piper whisper i love you as he’s inhaling water, and he thinks he’s going to die again, but suddenly piper is hugging him and percy is crouched beside them. and then michael varus stabs him, and he’s yanked back and forth between life and death, greek and roman. it takes him so long to recover from that. leo dies right before his eyes, and for a while he’s not sure which is worse— someone else dying for him or dying himself. even the news that leo is alive doesn’t help the tremors and the nightmares. he gets the news that either he or piper will die, and then when caligula stabs him and he’s back in front of charon, who’s asking him for a coin, jason realizes that death is a whole lot scarier than he could ever anticipate because he wasn’t ready to die.

piper is afraid of falling. physically and figuratively. she almost fell to her death at the grand canyon, and she had spent her time falling thinking about how much she messed up her life. she only gets a shot at redemption when jason saves her. and then as the months go on, she’s afraid to fall in love. how could she trust her relationship when it was fabricated by the mist? she takes a chance, lets herself fall, and she tries. she really tries. it’s so much easier to fight a war when there’s someone to support you, to validate you. but when she’s falling out of the sky and she’s screaming leo’s name and everything explodes in golden light and she wakes up to find out that her best friend is gone, she realizes that she needs to stay on solid ground. she can hardly board the plane back to california because she is so afraid she is going to fall. leo’s disappearance makes her question everything, and she realizes that she doesn’t know herself. she breaks up with jason, and for the first time in a long time, she feels like her life is becoming stable again. but when she sees jason’s dead body and this time there is no bringing him back, she’s falling all over again— falling apart.

leo is afraid of missing out. he felt like he was missing out on the whole romance thing for months; first his best friends start dating, which is cool, because they love each other, but then he’s on his way to europe surrounded by happy couples and feels ridiculously alone. he tries to tell himself that he doesn’t need anyone to make him feel whole, but the universe and the gods and everyone else seem to tell him that without a significant other, he’s worthless. and then when he died, he is focused only on ogygia and calypso. he didn’t realize it at the time, that’s when he starts missing out. when he returns, the world is in danger again. he’s too busy trying to help apollo get his god status back and be a good boyfriend to see his best friends, and he doesn’t even know they broke up until piper’s collapsing in his arms, sobbing about how jason’s gone. leo didn’t even get to say goodbye to one of his best friends. he missed out on his last opportunity to see jason and he didn’t even realize it. he begins to overthink how he prioritized things, and he’s haunted by the fact that he was so desperate to find love that he missed out on months of his life.

hazel is afraid of manipulation. before she died, her mother manipulated her into creating a body for a giant, and because it was her mother, she couldn’t say no. this was her family. everyone else hated her, and she was called a witch, so she couldn’t let her mom down. she gave life to a giant, and although she managed to stop him from rising to keep gaea asleep for another seventy years, she lost her life in the process. when hecate introduces her to her ability to control the mist, she doesn’t even realize it’s manipulation until after she arrives back at camp jupiter. she can make people see things that weren’t there just for her own benefit. she can make people do what she wanted them to just because she has the ability to. she’s reminded of the boat and holding onto her mother as she was crushed to death and she vows to never manipulate people the way her mother manipulated her.

frank is afraid of never growing up. from the time he was a baby, juno foreshadowed that he was too powerful to live a long life. while demigods were constantly dying at young ages, he thinks that he could be the exception. he saw people raising their children in new rome, and he had hope for the future. his stick could burn up at any moment, but he thought if he could survive the war, he could handle anything. even while freeing thanatos, he knows he’s going to live to make it back to new rome. leo definitely made him lose hope, but he’s presented with the fireproof material and gods, he could actually survive this thing. but then leo dies and octavian is dead too and frank realizes that even with his fireproof material, he is never truly safe. all he wants is to grow up and retire from the legion and go to college and have children and die peacefully, but now he has nightmares of watching his stick burn up in his own hands, and he’s terrified.

nico is afraid of the darkness. it used to be his friend—  it welcomed him when bianca died, and it kept him hidden from percy. the darkness hid his shame, hid the self-hatred. if he could melt into the shadows, nobody would know that he loved the person he should have hated. after the titan war, he’s trying to rebuild his life but it’s hard. he may have the support of his father but he still feels like an outsider. he discovers hazel and he grows to love her, but the darkness still makes him feel more safe than any camp can. but then he’s in tartarus and he’s being told that he’s perfect because he’s suffered so much, and all of the pain is thrown back in his face. he’s still recovering from hell when the athena parthenos becomes his responsibility, and he can feel his literal soul being stripped away from his body, and he can feel the very thing that he trusted so much tearing him apart. he’s about to fade away and he’s yanked back to life, and even when they arrive back at camp he’s told that he’s still on brink of being claimed by the darkness. his boyfriend may be the very opposite of the dark, but he still dreams of entering the shadows and never coming back.

reyna is afraid of losing her home. it happened in puerto rico, when she accidentally vaporized her father’s mania. although it had been an abusive household, it was the only thing she ever knew. and then she found a safe haven with hylla at circe’s spa. she lived there, free from war and from abuse until blackbeard was released. her second home was destroyed, and she had to fight to escape. her sister, her only family, went her own way, leaving reyna to find refuge at camp jupiter. she makes friends and the legion becomes her family, and she’s praetor and life is great until jason disappears. new rome is on the brink of destruction constantly, and reyna finds herself unable to stop the threats. she has worked so hard to create a family for herself, and after nearly losing everything, she finds that she has two homes—  camp jupiter and camp half-blood. yet she notices how she’s still extra weary, making sure there are extra guards and that no one loses their edge, because if reyna loses this home, she’ll have nothing left.

[spidxysense]

Back to You | 1

Summary: He broke your heart, but you’d always love him. Two souls that not even the universe could tear apart, even if you wanted it to at times.

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

A/N: I told you guys I'd update to the best of my abilities!!! Hope you guys enjoy, just a bit of a filler, next chapter will be pretty intense so watch out for that. As always I hope you enjoy. I'll clean up the whole post tomorrow if there's a laptop or computer nearby since I'm just updating via cellphone.

Word count: not quite sure.

Prologue | 1 | 2

3 months later

“I’m home!” You hear the door slam from inside of what’s become your room and you het up from your seat, hoodie and sweatpants still on.

“I see you still look the same as when I left you this morning.” Troye gives you a pointed look that has you staring at him with an unamuzed face as you slumped your shoulders, “And not in a mood to joke around, I see.” He pulls out a bottle of wine that clinks with the other bottes in the paper bag and hands it over to you, “That’s for you, my little alcoholic.” He pats your head.

You sit down at the table, your right knee brought close to your chest and your left leg up on the chair as well, “How is the outside world?” You place the bottle on the table, “Is loaf bread still a thing?”

Troye snorts in laughter, “She finally speaks! And bonus, actually made a witty quip.” He ducks down to place the detergents under the sink, “I don’t think I’ve seen you sober without a hangover in two months.” He sits down on the chair in front of you and smiles sadly at you, he reaches across the table, squeezing your hand, “How are you today, love?”

You sigh, pulling your hood off, and taking out the bun in your hair before redoing it, “I don’t know, I still feel like shit.”

“Obviously.” He mutters under his breath, “You two were together for 3 years, you can’t just fucking break that up and not feel like shit for a long time.” He scoffs, “You can do sooo much better, Y/N.” His eyes soften up, “You know, he called me again today. I bullshitted him, obviously, he also asked about why my landline wasn’t in service.”

You eye the wire from the phone that you cut when you’d heard his voice from the answering machine, and you give him an apologetic look.

“And your sister called again too. She was worried.”

You sigh, rubbing your face in frustration, “I just cant talk to them right now. I don’t want to have to talk about him when I’m this out of it. They loved him so much.”

Troye sighs and stands up, walking behind your chair and undoes your bun, brushing his fingers through your hair, getting the tangles out, “Look Y/N. When you showed up on my doorstep three months ago soaking wet with blisters on your feet, I told you to do what you need for as long as you need to. I told you to stay for as long as you needed to. But for the past three months, you’ve been getting drunk and crying over him, this isn’t getting over it anymore, it’s just regression.” He grabs you by the shoulders and turns you to face him, “You are a strong independent woman, and I absolutely love having you here with me, but some things need to change.” He pulls you up and over to your room, “You room is a literal pig-sty.”

He runs over to your laptop, “And you can’t keep getting updates on him.” He shows you the articles opened up on your browser from months ago as he closes them one by one.

“Tom Holland steps out looking fresh from a cry with red puffy eyes and disheveled hair.” Closed.

“Tom Holland eats alone at restaurant, phone glued to his ear as he tries to contact Y/N?” Closed.

“Tom Holland takes dog Tessa out for a walk lookng tired and depressed.” Closed.

“Spider-man actor quitting franchise over relationship problems?” I point an accusing finger towards the article, “In my defense, I got a lot of shit for that, and I didn’t defend myself even if it was just clickbait because I promised myself that I wouldn’t go on social media!” Closed.

“Oh I’ll get to that.” He nudged your shoulder pushing you to sit on the bed.

“Tom Holland caught getting emotional on the phone.” Closed.

“Trouble in paradise? Tom spotted out once again, without Y/N in sight.” Closed.

“Tom Holland, spotted out and about, Y/N still as phone background, have the two worked out their problems?”

“Y/N spotted for the first time in months looking haggard as she grabs a bite to eat at local London Bakery.” He gives you a deadpanned look, “Seriously?”

You shrug, “That’s on you. You were gone for the whole day and I had nothing to eat.”

He sighs, closing the browser window with multiple tabs about Tom still opened, “Sweetie, you have got to stop caring so much. I understand that you love him and you two were in love.” He makes a stupid mushy face, “But he hurt you! Live your life, you don’t have to worry about him anymore.”  He opens the next browser window still opened on Tom’s instagram and twitter, “Exhibit B.” He gives you a look before closing the browser.

“You’ve written so many good songs too! But you won’t even share them with the world.” He sat down next to you, clicking around on your laptop before the room is filled with your voice, singing.

You look over at him, “You really think they’re good?”

“I have literally cried with you at night while you would sing.”

You sigh, “I can’t sing right now. I just don’t feel like I can release at album where I’m at emotionally.”

“Then sell some of these to musicians who will, your songs deserve to be heard around the world. And for goodness’ sake, Y/N. Read this will you? It’s been in the mail bin for a month now, they’ve wanted to meet with you for a while now.” He throws a script on your bed

“You aren’t this stupid crying child, Y/N. You are fabulous and you didn’t need a man before Tom, why the hell would need one now?” He has his hands on his hips, “The Y/N I know is better than this. So unless you plan on being her again, then I’m gonna have to cut you off.” He grabs the half finished wine bottle on your dresser before slamming the door shut behind him, “Clean up your room and I’ll call uou when we need to leave to have lunch outside for once.”

You look over at the script on the bed, “The Greatest Showman”, and turn to the first page.

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

“Yeah, I just finished reading the script.” You speak into the phone you kept for business, “I love it.”

“Wait-” Your manager’s voice sounds excited on the other end, “Does this mean you’re going to do it?”

You bite your lip, “Yeah. I think I am, I’m done with this. I don’t want to sit around getting drunk and cry all the time. I’ll send you some compositions I’ve been making these past few months, maybe find some artists who could use the sound on their albums.”

“Th-this is great news, Y/N!” She practically shouts into the phone, “Alright, this is perfect. We’ll fly you out the LA in a few days and you can meet with the directors, meet with the rest of the cast. They’ll be so happy to hear this, I mean, you were their first choice.” she sighs happily, “Alright, well I’ll go ahead and email you the details. I’ll get on the phone with them asap so we can arrange this whole thing!” She pasues, “I’m really proud of you, Y/N.”

“Does this mean you don’t want to be my roommate anymore?” You turn to see Troye pouting with his arms crossed in front of his chest.

You roll your eyes, holding out your arms for a hug, “No way. You’re my bitch forever now.” You laugh, “Thanks for the tough love.” He rubs your back while hugging you, “I really needed it.”

“Ugh, I know you did. It sucked having to be so mean to you.” He pulls away from you, “But please don’t ever ever wear anything like what you were wearing in that article, you looked like garbage.” He scoffs at you, “Now go get dressed and we can talk all about your new movie over lunch!" He squeals.

_________________________

"So glad you could make it, Y/N." Michael leans over to give you a handshake which you take gratefilly, "Hopefully the flight wasn't too tough on you. You've been in London so long, I'm sure you'd have jetlag coming back here."

"It was great! I'm so sorry about not getting back to you sooner, I was gling through some stuf-"

He holds his open palm, "Oh, say no more. I understand, you've been very strong amidst your relationship problems and have stayed above it." He compliments you, taking a bite out of his grilled chicken.

Ylu paste on a tense smile, "We all deal with it in our own ways." You sigh, remembering the days you'd spend drinking glass after glass of wine or whatever liquor was available.

"Anyway, so we wanted you for the role of Anne Wheeler, a pink haired trapeze artist and acrobat who falls in love with Hugh Jackman's business partner and protege, Philippe Carlyle." He ponders for a while, "Obviously we had you in mind for Anne, and we also had Ben Hardy in mind for Philippe, but since you were taking a while to give your answer, we honestly did start approaching other people for the roles and since Ben wasn't too keen on the role after finding out we might be going for Zendaya, it was just more work to get done before the production even started, but now that we have you aboard, everything's going according to plan!"

You clench your glass of water at the mention of Zendaya, you were definitely not feeling well enough to be around too many people, "So…" you play with the table napkin, tearing it to smaller bits and pieces starting at the corner, "When does filming start?"

He munches on some mashed potatoes, "We were hoping to start next month so it would probably.take a good 3 to 5 months to shoot, but your filming would probably be shorter since this is focused more in Hugh's character."

You clasp your hands together, "Perfect, I love it!"

"So, we'll send over the contract within a day or two to your manager, and we'll just pick up from there." He stands up to give you a quick hug.

__________________________________

You hop out the car, walking straight to the elevator in your hotel, your manager following closely behind, "He's your phone. Troye told me you broke it after throwing it against the wall." She looks over at me nervously, "I thought it'd be good for you to listen to his voice every now and then."

You take it without saying a word and stuf fit in your pocket, ignoring the constant dings and alerts coming from it as your manager gets off at the 12 floor. You grip the phone tight in your hand. You knew you didn't hate Tom, you walk out the elevator and towards your room, kicking off your shoes and finding more comfortable clothes to wear.

You could never hate him. But a part of you was afraid of all the messages he'd left you you were scared that if you opened them, you'd come crawling back to him, or if you heard him pleading for you to come back, you'd do it in a heartbeat.

You lie in bed, pondering over the phone, technically, you didn't need to open the messages.

0601 you hear a 'click' before a picture of your scrunched up face as Tom kisses your cheek greets you and you feel your heart ache. You open the photo gallery, and while your scrolling through all the pictures and videos, you accidentally press kn a video.

"I am with a child." You laugh as you watch him,it was raining in London, but you two were out and about, "Babe, let's get back to the car. We can just drive there."

You point the camera towards him as he jumps in a puddle, laughing loudly, pulling you along, "What are you doing with that umbrella? Get over here!" He pulls the umbrella away, "I love you." He mumbles before embracing you and giving you a kiss.

You pull away, giving him a look, "We're gonna be late to the movies, you know."

He shrugs, grinning at you and looking you like a lovesick puppy, he pulls you in again, "It's just the movies." He grins against your lips.

And then suddenly the video cuts and you're left there missing him and missing who the two of you used to be.

You smile sadly at the black screen, clutching it closer to your chest as you hug your phone, the closest thing you had to Tom, as you drift off to sleep.

[seeaddywrite]

this was ... not what i wanted to post next at all, but this is what i wrote, so what the hell? this is set in the Aftermath ‘verse, about six months after the Michael & Isobel fic, but can absolutely be read as a stand-alone.  i have a few more fics planned in this universe, so we’ll see how it goes. 

i was too impatient to get anyone else to look at this, so read at your own peril; typos likely abound. 

warnings for discussion of canonical character death & grief. title from P!nk & Wrabel’s song 90 Days, which you should absolutely listen to for some angsty Malex feels. 

let me down slowly (i’ll be okay)

When Alex’s phone goes off in the middle of sorting through data from yet another of his father’s top-secret bases, he almost ignores it. He’s been searching through the Project Shepherd files for any information on alien powers — anything that might give Michael or Isobel an advantage on learning how to harness the energy that Max did to resurrect Rosa so they could save him, too.  Locating that information is far more pressing than anything anyone can be texting him, as far as Alex is concerned. This is the one contribution he can make to the cause, the only way he can help, and Alex is determined to do it to the best of his ability and as quickly as he can. It’s a way to make up for the pain his father caused these people, a way to atone — and, as selfish as it is, a way to show Michael that he’s not making a mistake by trusting Alex again.

Six months of working together to bring Max Evans back from the dead has done wonders for Alex and Michael’s relationship. They’re friends, now, the kind that support each other and listen while the other talks, and have been slowly moving toward something more — but aside from one desperate kiss when Alex was too drunk to restrain himself about a month ago, they haven’t really stepped over the line. Alex knows that there’s too much going on right now to push it; they’ve got Rosa to keep hidden and Max to save, and after that, Jesse Manes and the rest of his bases to take down. He shouldn’t be worrying about romance or sex, not when he’s lucky enough to have Michael back in his life at all — but Alex can’t help but want. He’s proud of himself for supporting Michael through all of this, even before he and Maria called it quits, and he’s glad to know that he’s been a comfort, but he can’t help but feel that if he was only allowed to hold Michael, to tear all of his defenses down and really be there, he could do more.

Alex shakes himself, determined not to get lost in the minefield that is his and Michael’s relationship. He turns his attention back to the monitors in front of him, tracking information and entering his own effortlessly. Codebreaking in the military while under fire was difficult; sitting in a secure bunker with no one after his life is almost boring, especially when one considers the pathetic cyber defenses his father uses. He forgets about the text for another half an hour as he delves into files on test subjects and gets lost in the horrors contained there.

Eventually, Alex runs into another firewall. His father’s defenses aren’t complex, but they are numerous, and it takes some time for the codes he’s running to find away through.  While they work, he checks his phone, frowning at the brief message from Liz that lights up his screen.

I think Michael could use some company at the cave tonight.

There’s nothing else, no explanation or greeting, but that’s not unlike Liz, these days. Her thoughts are constantly preoccupied with keeping Rosa hidden or bringing Max back; there isn’t much time for friends or small-talk. He’s done his best to shove into her life when she needs a reality check, and he knows that Maria has, too, though he hasn’t quite been able to bring himself to join the two of them. Things between himself and Maria have been strained, at best, despite the fact that she and Guerin broke up less than a month after Max’s death. According to Michael, the truth had proven to be too much for Maria — she doesn’t want to be included in the dangerous stuff, though she’s been excellent support for Liz and Rosa through all of the madness.

His phone dings again, and this time, it’s GPS coordinates. Alex assumes they’re for the cave — he hasn’t actually been there, for all that he is doing his best to help Max. It doesn’t feel like it’s his place to go. After all, he only knows Max through their interactions in high school, and a few polite encounters since Alex’s return to Roswell. It feels wrong, somehow, to intrude in a place so full of grief and hope for a man he barely knows, so he hasn’t asked to be included. He’s on the periphery of the group, despite his contributions; Isobel still watches him warily, her green gaze discontent whenever she sees him with Michael, and even Kyle gets a warmer welcome from Michael’s sister than he does. Guerin treats him the same as he always has, with more carefully defined physical boundaries, and tells him not to worry, that Isobel is just trying to look out for Michael — but it still stings.

But none of that matters if Liz is right, and Michael actually needs him. Alex has been determinedly fighting for another chance for six months — because he meant what he said, the day before his hopes got crushed by an entire morning spent waiting for a visit that never came. He’s done fighting his father’s battles. He’s going to fight for himself, for what he wants, and damn the consequences. The first time he walked away from Michael, he was a scared kid, but now, Alex is a fucking warrior. He’s hacked into terrorist weapons’ caches while his base in the Middle East was under fire, and he lost a leg keeping the communications array up between his squad while running for his life— if he can face those things and win, he can damn well face some time waiting for Michael to disentangle his love for Alex from the pain the Manes family had caused him. It’s only fair, after all; Geurin had given Alex the time he needed to pull himself together, after Baghdad.

Meanwhile, Alex has adopted a holding pattern, a ‘wait and see’ ideology that he knows he can’t maintain indefinitely. It’s too hard, and it hurts too much, to see Michael stumbling through crisis after crisis and be kept on the outskirts of his life. Sometimes, on the bad days, he wonders if this is revenge for his own actions after enlisting — if this is Michael giving him a taste of his own medicine, rather than trying to piece together the shattered remains of his secrets to form a normal life. Usually, when that thought strikes him, however, Alex can identify it as his own anxieties talking. Guerin had been honest, when they talked after the end of his whatever with Maria. He can’t commit to anything except for helping Isobel bring Max back. Anything else would distract from that goal, and he’s not willing to be selfish with Max’s life on the line — and, he admits later, when neither of them expect the words, that he’s scared. It’s so unlike Guerin to admit such a thing that Alex can only stare, but it makes sense. Alex’s father, his family, has caused so much pain, and all of it, one way or another, had ended up falling on Michael’s head. Alex was scared, too, when he considered it.

So instead of pushing the way he wants to, Alex accepts the boundaries Michael lays out. Meanwhile, he reconnects with Rosa, a friend he’d believed he’d never see again, and supports Liz as best he can while she grapples with the guilt she feels whenever she’s happy to have her sister back, since it cost all of them Max to get it. He goes to PT and continues to work on his endurance with the prosthetic, and even adds some decor to the spartan interior of his cabin. He hangs out with Kyle, who’s turned out to be a damned good friend, despite their history, and he researches. His enlistment period is over in a few weeks, and he’ll lose access to some of his resources then, but Alex knows that he’ll never stop working to keep the aliens — to keep Michael — safe. Because no matter where they end up, Guerin is Alex’s family, and no circumstances can change that.

Alex, seriously. I don’t want to have to send Isobel out there. She’s finally getting some sleep, and Michael will just end up trying to make her feel better, instead of the other way around.

The second text brings Alex out of his reverie, and he responds quickly with, On my way.

Just as Liz offers no explanations, he asks no questions — talking about Michael behind his back isn’t exactly friendly behavior, and he knows Liz is probably either knee-deep in her own research or being forced into bed by a worried, over-protective big sister. And if Michael’s actually acting strangely enough for it to sink through the distracted fog Liz has been in for the last six months, there’s definitely good reason to go make sure that he’s all right. If this was before Max’s death, he might guess that she’s trying to meddle in his love life, but Alex knows better than to think Liz capable of thinking like that, now. He wishes she could; then, at least, he’d know she’d be okay.

But no one is really okay right now, are they?

                                                                           *******

Less than an hour later finds Alex sighing down at a map on his phone. The cave is two miles back from any roadway, and there’s no alternate route  that won’t require hiking two miles after a full twelve hours on his bad leg already.  It figures that Liz wouldn’t think to warn him about the walking — even when she wasn’t constantly distracted by trying to hold herself together, Alex had been damned good at making it seem like he could do anything he could have done before he lost the leg. Alex hates to admit that he can’t do something, or to ask for help, and he makes sure that he is perfectly self-sufficient around his friends at all times. He doesn’t want them to worry about him, or God forbid, pity him.

So, in true bull-headed fashion, Alex parks as close as he can get to the cave, makes note of the car’s coordinates so he can find it again later, and starts out through the desert with his backpack slung over one shoulder. He spares a minute to wish he’d left his crutch in the car for emergencies, but doesn’t waste time on it. Almost two years out from his amputation, Alex knows he’s capable of making the journey, and that’s all that matters. Afterward will likely be a different story, but he’ll deal with that when forced. For now, his mind is focused on Michael, and why Liz would think he needed Alex tonight.

The walk takes him a little more than an hour, and the sun is starting to sink in the sky, bathing the desert and entrance to Noah’s hidden cave in golden light. Just outside the opening, Alex pauses, the sound of someone strumming a guitar catching him by surprise. He knows that one of Max’s last acts was to heal Michael’s hand; he has complicated feelings on the subject, and suspects Michael does too, though it’s impossible to deny that good has come out of it. Guerin needs the guitar, needs to play music, in a way that Alex wants to understand, but can’t. He loves music, and always has, but the moment Guerin’s hands touch guitar strings, the tension bleeds from him instantly, and Alex was never that lucky when he played in high school.

He lingers there for a few moments, letting the complicated melody carry him back in time, to a cramped tool shed and the beautiful, guarded boy that Alex wanted to kiss more than he’d ever wanted anything else. They’d both been so different, then. While young Michael had been far from open, those prickly, defensive barriers hadn’t grown so tall Alex couldn’t climb them, and the omnipresent warmth in his eyes when he looked at Alex hadn’t yet become clouded with hurt and grief. It had been so easy between them, then. Just two boys, figuring out how to love for the first time and finding refuge in one another.

Until his father had ruined it, ruined everything.

But Alex isn’t there to stand around cursing Jesse Manes; he can — and does — do enough of that on his own time. So, subconsciously straightening the front of his leather jacket, he walks into the small space of the cave. Michael’s sitting cross-legged on the ground with his back to Alex, the guitar still in his lap, fingers strumming idly more than picking out a specific melody, and even from this angle, Alex knows his eyes are closed as he searches for the peace the guitar usually brings him.

It doesn’t seem to be working today, though. Guerin’s shoulders are tense beneath his thick flannel shirt, and Alex hates himself a little for appreciating the way his muscles flex every time his grip on the guitar shifts to change chords. He clears his throat after a long moment, surprised that Michael hasn’t noticed him already. He’s gotten a lot more in tune with his mental powers, lately, since he and Isobel began working to strengthen their abilities, and sneaking up on Michael had become as difficult as fooling Isobel.

Michael doesn’t turn. “Liz called you,” he guesses, and Alex has to strain to hear the words over the echoing thrum of the guitar. “I told her I was fine.”

Alex is far from convinced by that statement. He takes a couple of slow steps toward Michael, grateful that the cave is small and mostly flat, because his leg is already starting to get stiff and achy from the hike through the desert — and also because he’s not sure of his welcome. Guerin doesn’t seem particularly pleased to see him, and it’s awkward to be in this cave, where Max seems to be resting peacefully in the glowing orb in front of them while they all work frantically to get him back.

“Well, I just walked two miles through the desert, so can I stay anyway?” Alex asks, aiming for levity. “I could use some rest before I take the return trip.” Sitting on the cave floor isn’t exactly his favorite idea; getting down there isn’t going to be graceful, and getting up will be worse, but it’s not like there are any chairs out here. There’s a tiny cot shoved against the far wall, covered in floral blankets that suggests its mostly Isobel’s resting place, and Alex doesn’t want to be that far away from Michael, even if he’s willing to sit on it.

When Michael doesn’t answer him, Alex sighs inwardly and levers himself awkwardly to the ground, his bad leg extended so that if he falls, it’ll be on his ass rather than the residual limb. His shoulder bumps Michael’s as he sits, and Alex winces at the unintended contact, even as it finally gets the other man to look at him. “Sorry,” he mumbles, the urge to apologize for his ungainliness one that’s hard to suppress, even after all this time. He lifts his gaze to meet Michael’s though, because he refuses to be that embarrassed, and nearly gasps.

Guerin is a mess. His eyes are red-rimmed and surrounded by blue bruise-like shadows and bone-white skin, making him appear more like a corpse than Max, who floats peacefully in the pod in front of them, his features obscured by the glowing surface. And the lauded quiet that comes from holding a guitar is conspicuously absent in his eyes — instead, the brown orbs hold only desperation and loneliness, and an isolation the Alex never, ever wants to see again.

“Michael, what —?” Alex doesn’t know how to ask what’s happened. Michael’s been working as hard, if not harder, than the rest of them to bring back his brother, but he hasn’t looked this bad since the first week or so directly following Rosa’s resurrection. He’s been doing better, lately — at least, Alex thinks so. Maybe he’s missed something?

The idle strumming stops, then, and Michael’s gaze shifts to the pod in front of them again, his fingers clutching the neck of the guitar so tightly that his knuckles turn white. “Mrs. Evans called me, today,” he says tightly, and Alex is struck with the feeling that Michael doesn’t want to answer, even as the words spill into the silence between them. “It’s been six months, and Max isn’t the unreliable type, right?  He always calls her back, because he’s a fucking Boy Scout, and she hasn’t heard from him in half a year. And Isobel’s been dodging her calls, because she keeps hoping we’ll figure this out so she never has to tell the truth.” He swallows, and Alex watches as his throat works in the pale light from the pod. “But six months? What was I supposed to say? That he’s fine? That he — developed some kind of drug problem and went to rehab, or chased a girl around the globe and abandoned his family? No one who knows him is going to fucking believe that! Especially not the people who raised him!”

The air in the cave becomes tense with barely leashed power, and Alex finds himself holding his breath. He’s not afraid — Michael has never hurt him physically, not once, no matter what was happening around or between them, and he doubts he’ll start now. But it’s impossible not to share the other man’s tension when they’re this close, and Alex wishes he knew how to help.

“I didn’t know what to tell her,” Michael continues, his voice raw as he visibly grapples with the tears threatening to spill from his eyes. “I couldn’t tell her that he’s dead, because it’s been six fucking months — plus, they’d want to bury him, see the body.” He’s still staring straight ahead at the pod, so intently that Alex wonders if he’s trying to will Max to open his eyes and fix all of this. “I ended up saying I hadn’t heard from him, either,” he finishes with a hoarse laugh, and Alex winces at the sound, hating the bitterness that echoes in it. “I told her he and I haven’t really talked in ten years, and I’d be the last person he’d tell if he was taking off.” The guitar seems to bend under the force of Michael’s grip, and Alex, unthinking, reaches out to rescue it from the explosive power of Guerin’s grief before he shatters it.

Once the instrument is safely put to the side, Alex turns at the waist to face Michael and tentatively rests a hand on his forearm, half-expecting to be brushed off immediately. He understands, now, why Michael is upset. He had to have a difficult conversation, and then lie and pretend everything would be fine. And then, on top of that, he was forced to invalidate his own grief to keep the truth hidden. All of that in addition to the stress he’s under daily, now, is a lot for anyone to bear alone.

“You did the right thing,” Alex promises quietly, even though he wishes he had something better.  The right thing for the Evans’ is clearly not the right thing for Michael, and Alex wonders if Michael will ever get to be selfish and protect himself, rather than someone else. It doesn’t seem likely, and that fact makes Alex resentful. “None of us are giving up, Guerin. We’ll figure it out, one way or another, and then Max can set things right with his mom himself.” The optimism isn’t exactly Alex’s milieu, but he knows what Michael needs to hear right now and gives it to him with as much certainty as he can conjure.

“What if we can’t?” Michael is the first one to voice the doubt. After six months, none of the rest of them had dared — even Kyle hadn’t questioned the possibility with Rosa standing in front of him after he’d seen her autopsy photos. Isobel and Liz would have sliced them to ribbons with the sharp edges of their tongues, at least — and they’d all just fallen into the reality that was the aliens could bring someone back from the dead, even ten years later. “Max would never forgive us if we killed someone just to bring him back, and I won’t let Iz try it, no matter how much she says she would, if we found someone who ‘deserved it.’”

Alex swallows. As a soldier, he’d believed himself to be fighting people who deserved death for their crimes. He’d gone to war to fight and win battles, and he had — he’d been responsible for the deaths of man, whether with his own gun or by hacking into their own systems to detonate their own weapons to use against them. The nightmares came whether or not the people he killed were terrorists or not, though, and he lived with the knowledge that he’d fallen to their level — that really, he was part of the evil, too. No, he wouldn’t wish that knowledge on Isobel, or anyone else.

“We don’t know that’s the only way,” Alex says, keeping his voice level as they both stare forward at the glowing pod that is the crux of their most pressing problem. “Max may have needed to kill Noah to bring Rosa back, but there are thousands of files full of data on my father’s data bases, and all of those people were capable of doing incredible things. We might be able to find something, still — it just takes time to look through everything. And you and Isobel working together might contribute more power than just Max, so it could just be a matter of finding the right combination of-”

When he chances another look at the other man, Alex finds that Michael’s staring at him, his expression impossible to read in the dim light of the cave. He trails off, self-conscious under that inscrutable stare. There was a time when Alex believed he could read every flicker of emotion in those features, back when the world still made sense and aliens were a cool villain in action movies, rather than his reality. Now, Alex knows better, just as he knows that it’s stupid to remind Guerin of all the work they’ve been doing to help Max. He’s been spearheading most of the attempts with Liz and Isobel; it’s not like Michael doesn’t know what their options are, and their chances of success. He shouldn’t have recapped it all when he’s got nothing new to offer. Blind optimism is hardly useful, and Michael won’t appreciate —

Suddenly, they’re so close that Alex can feel Michael’s breath on his face, and his own stutters in his chest, effectively ending the inner turmoil their proximity creates. This is the closest they’ve been in so long that his body doesn’t know how to react; he feels flushed and cold simultaneously, aroused and terrified of making the wrong move all at once. He swallows, the noise loud to his own ears, and slowly pulls his gaze from where it lingered on Michael’s lips to his eyes. This is not what it feels like, he tells himself firmly. He’s not ready. He’s not going to kiss you. Stop getting your hopes up.

But Michael is oblivious to Alex’s inner monologue and only leans closer, one of his hands lifting to rest against the side of Alex’s jaw. “You never give up, do you?” he asks, and the wonder in his tone tells Alex that they’re having two different conversations. It’s enough to make his heartbeat pick up the pace, and Alex tries to give himself another reminder that this can’t be what it seems, but months of patience and repressed desire makes him reckless.

Slowly, Alex lifts his own hand to cover the one still cupping his jaw, and he smiles, small and hopeful, at Michael. He knows that the other man will be able to see everything he’s feeling if he cares to look; Alex is good at hiding his emotions when he has to, but Michael knows him too well, and he’s too tired of fighting for nothing to even try. It’s time to be honest, both of them — and if this goes sideways, maybe, at the very least, Alex will be able to break the holding pattern he’s been stuck in for half a year.

“Not on things that matter,” he whispers, and despite all the stern warnings he’d been giving himself a mere moment ago, Michael is touching him like he hasn’t in months, in the way no one has in just as long. The unintentional isolation was enough, several months ago, to drive Alex to excess drinking and an ill-advised attempt at a kiss. Michael had rebuffed him — kindly, of course, and with an explanation that had given Alex hope for the future — but it had still stung, still translated in his mind as Guerin doesn’t want me. So as much as Alex aches to haul Michael in by the collar of his flannel and kiss him senseless, he doesn’t.

Instead, Alex waits, all of his most vulnerable parts on display, and hopes.

Michael’s so close Alex can count each of his individual eyelashes, and he takes a moment to appreciate that the haunted, lonely look has vanished from his face. In its place is a crooked smirk, a more honest approximation of the expression that has gotten Alex in his bed more than once in the past decade. It’s so good to see him smile, to see the tension begin to ease from his shoulders, that Alex nearly forgets the want building in his gut — nearly.

“You matter to me, too,” Michael murmurs, and then there’s no more waiting. There’s a hand at the back of his head and another at his collar and rough lips against his, moving tentatively and so unlike Michael’s usual gestures of affection that Alex has to take control for a moment. He tangles his fingers in the curls nearest his hands and pulls, trying to remind Michael without words that he doesn’t need to hesitate, that Alex has been here this whole time, waiting, and there’s no chance of rejection. No walking away.

It’s all too easy, then, as soon as Michael takes the cue and deepens the kiss, to forget where they are and why. As always, as soon as their lips align, Alex forgets everything but the way Michael tastes on his tongue and the feel of their bodies pressed against one another. Reasonable thought goes up in flames, burned to ash by the heat they generate when they share space, and Alex is half in Michael’s lap before he even realizes how he got there, bad leg extended to help him keep his balance. It’s heady and overwhelming and everything he’s been missing since the last time he was allowed to this, and Alex never wants it to end.

A firm hand on his stops the exploration beneath the hem of Michael’s shirt. “No,” a rough voice tells him, the word spoken against Alex’s lips. Instantly,  Alex pulls away and all but falls out of Michael’s lap and into the dirt, kiss-swollen and breathless and suddenly nauseous with anxiety. Michael said ‘no.’ Michael stopped him, pushed him away. Again. Michael still doesn’t want him. Fuck, when is he going to learn that Manes men don’t get happy endings? When is he going to stop doing this to himself? How many times is he going to have to piece himself together when he and Michael can’t make this thing between them work?

“Hey, stay with me,” Michael says, and there are gentle fingers on his jaw, making him meet Michael’s gaze. It hurts to do so, but Alex is done being a victim. He’d said six months ago that he was only going to fight his own battles from then on, and fighting for Michael Guerin is the only one that’s ever really been worth it.

“Look,” Alex starts, his voice harsher than he’d intended. “I know you’re still figuring things out, Guerin. I know you’ve got a lot on your plate, and everything between us is complicated — but both of us being miserable and alone isn’t going to solve any of that! It’s not going to bring Max back, and it’s damn sure not going to help you deal with what my father did. But I’m not my father, Michael! I’m not, and it’s taken me six months to realize that there’s never any chance of becoming him.” That revelation had been a long time coming, and hard-fought, but Alex isn’t worried about becoming Jesse Manes anymore. He may not be a good man, and he may not deserve forgiveness for the mistakes he’s made, but Alex is no genocidal maniac, and he never will be.

Michael shakes his head and opens his mouth, his eyes wide, but Alex cuts him off. “No. I need to say this, okay? Just — let me. I’m in love with you, Michael. That hasn’t changed. You can date a hundred other people, and it’ll still be true. You could take another ten years to figure out if you can be with me, and my feelings won’t change. You’re my family, my safe place, and I —” Much to his shame, Alex’s voice shakes. “I need you. But if you can’t do this? If you really, honestly, don’t think we’re ever going to be able to work this out, I need to know. Because I can’t keep waiting around and breaking my own heart forever.”

The words hurt so much to say they may as well have been burned into his skin, but Alex pushes them through gritted teeth anyway. He doesn’t want to hear that it’s really over, isn’t sure he’ll be able to keep it together long enough to escape Michael’s presence before he breaks completely, but maybe, if he finally hears the truth, he’ll be able to do something. Move out of town, maybe. Find a city somewhere to start over. Do something other than take turns walking away with Michael Guerin.

“Alex, what are you — I just kissed you,” Michael reminds him, the genuine incredulity in his eyes making more of an impression on Alex than the words. “What the hell did you think that was?”

Alex blinks, taken aback by the question. “I - you said ‘no,’” he protests, though it’s weaker than it should be. He’s realized, belatedly, that he jumped to conclusions without giving Michael a chance to say anything, but he absolutely refuses to get his hopes up again.

“I said ‘no’ because we were about two minutes from having sex in front of my brother,” Michael says dryly, and gestures with his chin to the pod. “Not that he’d notice, but —” he shifts uncomfortably, eyes lingering on Max’s still form beneath the cloudy glass. “Doesn’t exactly feel right, you know? Plus, we’d have sand in all sorts of uncomfortable places, and I’m not a big fan of chafing.” He shoots a grin over his shoulder at Alex, but he can read the nervousness in the expression. Michael’s just as unsure as he is, and neither of them are handling this as well as they could be.

Alex exhales shakily, and nods once. “That . . . makes sense.” Chewing at the inside of his cheek, he shifts, trying to get comfortable on the ground again. “So, just to be sure we’re on the same page, that kiss meant --?”

“That kiss meant that you matter to me, too,” Michael repeats his earlier words immediately, a fond smile on his face, that temporarily masks the exhaustion and grief of the past half a year. “And that I’m just as fucking tired of waiting as you are. I can’t promise I’m going to be easy to put up with —”

“When were you ever?” Alex tosses back, and despite his best efforts, hope balloons in his chest.

“— and I have to make Max my priority. I owe it to Isobel and Liz, and him,” Michael continues, as if Alex never spoke. He’s running the pads of his fingers over the back of the hand Jesse Manes had once taken a hammer to, obviously remembering one of the many things he wants to talk to his brother about, but can’t. “But if you’re sure you want to sign up for this, then I’m not going anywhere.”

This is something that Alex has been hoping to put up with for the last six months. Michael sees himself as an outsider, as someone not worth the love that he so richly deserves, because that’s what life has taught him. What Alex has taught him, inadvertently. And there are plenty of reasons for them to not be together — Jesse Manes and his alien crusade at the top of the list. But Alex isn’t afraid of aliens or his father anymore. His only fear is living a life without Michael Guerin in it, and if he doesn’t have to face that reality, he can face just about anything else.

“Sign, huh? Is there a dotted line somewhere?” Alex asks, his heart pounding so loudly he’s sure Michael can hear it. “Or is this the kind of deal we seal with a kiss?”

Michael laughs, unrestrained and genuinely happy, and every insecurity and doubt Alex feels melts away in the warmth of that sound. Because if he can make Michael happy, even for just this moment in the midst of the madness they’re enduring, then everything has been worth it. He leans in close, trusting Michael to support him, and presses their lips together in silent promise.

[dctrose]

Subject(s): The Twelfth Doctor, Rose Tyler, mentions of TenToo & the other characters who feature in their life together.

Words: ~3000

Notes: The Twelfth Doctor suddenly finds himself watching the story of a lifetime. Quite literally.

AO3

When he’d sealed the breach, the parallel Earth – Pete’s World – had been sealed off. Forever. Gone. No way there, no way back.

Well, that was the theory.

It’s a dull Monday the first time he discovers that, like many great scientists, he’s wrong. Clara’s teaching Shakespeare, and the squaddie is no doubt somewhere ruining people’s lives, and so he’s stuck rattling around the TARDIS. He’s sitting reading War and Peace when it suddenly goes dark, and the TARDIS lurches violently. He’s thrown from his seat, hitting the floor with a thump. He’s helpless as the TARDIS continues to throw him around, before they finally land with a crashing sound.

“What was that about?!” he asks her out loud, receiving a groan in response. “Oh, you’re complaining, are you? I should be complaining! Thrown out of my seat during a perfectly good book! What’s wrong with you, eh?”

He hits some buttons and switches, managing to get the lights back on and the TARDIS to relax a little.

“That’s better. You take a break,” he strokes the console fondly, before skipping towards the doors. “Now… where are we?”

He throws the doors open with a flourish, disappointed to find himself on an ordinary suburban street. He looks around, glances down, and then up – and there’s a violent tug in his gut when he notices that the sky is filled with zeppelins.

“Oh, no. No, no. That’s not possible.”

The doors fall shut behind him as he ducks down, sonic out, scanning the ground. It’s pavement, ordinary pavement, but it’s the pavement of Pete’s World. As he straightens up again, the Doctor feels sick.

He has no idea how he’s here. He has no idea why, either. This is ordinary suburbia, a residential area, a few nice terrace houses and a park at the end of the road. He wanders the streets, confused, disorientated – his two hearts beating hard, threatening to tear at the loose stitches that had held him together since he'd last been here.

He resolves to head back to the TARDIS, only a few streets over, when a family rounds a corner. In a pushchair is a baby, a little girl sucking on her thumb, and two boys – one who appears to be in his early teens, and another much younger – dart in front of the pram, chasing each other with imaginary weapons.

That’s not what the Doctor is really focused on, though. Instead, all he can see is the woman pushing the chair. Because for all his wishing and hoping, he really didn’t think he’d ever see Rose Tyler again.

She looks happy. Fussing over the baby, cautioning the boys, pushing the pram with a confidence. She looks settled, and content. And she looks beautiful.

Everything after that happens in slow motions. The baby starts crying, and Rose looks down, fussing over her blankets, shifting her toys around. As she does, a car rounds the corner, and the two boys – the older one pretending to shoot the younger – run off the curb.

Instinct takes over. Before the car can get there, the Doctor does. The older boy has frozen in horror, but the Doctor grabs the younger one, dragging him out of the way. The horn of the car shrieks at the same time that Rose does, and then she’s crying, and the baby’s crying, and the boy in the Doctor’s arms is crying too.

“Michael!” she shouts, leaving the buggy on the pavement and stomping over to him. The Doctor releases the child, and he falls into Rose’s arms. “What have I told you about the road?!” For all her anger, she cradles him to her, and turns to the older child, still standing there, just off the kerb, staring in terror. “And you, Toby! You’re older, you should know better! What’re your mum and dad gunna say, eh?”

Rose is fussing over the little boy, brushing his hair back, kissing his forehead, whispering words of comfort. All the Doctor can do is stare. He hasn’t been this close to Rose Tyler for hundreds of years, yet all he can notice is that the boy in her arms looks remarkably like the man he once was. One life. He really was living it with her.

Jealousy surges through him, pathetic jealousy, white and hot and gripping his hearts, and he stands up, eyes focused on the space above Rose’s head. The movement jolts her, and she looks up from where she’s cradling her son.

“You saved him. Oh my god, you saved him. He’d be gone without you. What – what can I do to ever thank you?”

“Nothing, nothing – please. It’s fine. Just… glad he’s okay.”

Rose shakes her head, grabbing the sleeve of his jacket. The Doctor has to resist forcing his arm away. He doesn’t know what would hurt more – if she recognised him now, or if she remained just as clueless.

“Please, you have to let me do something. Dinner, or – I don’t know.”

“Honestly, it’s fine. I insist.” The Doctor shuffles uncomfortably, but then Rose is thrusting the boy in her arms forward.

“Michael, say thank you to the man. – Oh, what’s your name?”

His answer is automatic, but he cringes the moment he says it, “John.”

“That’s my husband’s name. God – I have to tell him about this. He’s going to be so upset,” she looks briefly distraught for a moment again, and then shakes her son lightly. “Thank John, Michael.”

The little boy looks up at him with shining eyes – his eyes – and a pathetic sniffle.

“Thank you.”

The Doctor nods slightly, and then tries to stumble out some excuses to leave. Rose is insistent, tugging on his sleeve, trying to get his number. She invites him back to dinner another three times, but the Doctor refuses, wanting nothing more than to get away. He knows the other him would know, and he can’t stand for any of them to realise who he is.

Eventually, more concerned for her son than some stranger, Rose lets it drop. She keeps a firm hold on Michael’s hand as they walk, instructing her brother to push the pram the rest of the way home.

As the Doctor slips away back to his TARDIS, he doesn’t envy Toby Tyler and the bollocking he’s going to get from his mother.

-

Despite all the laws of physics that the Doctor knows, it keeps happening. Every so often, the TARDIS goes crazy, and he ends up in Pete’s World. Usually, it’s uneventful. He passes Rose in the street. He kicks Toby Tyler’s football back to him. He watches Rose Tyler pick her daughter up from a sleepover.

It feels weird to him. He’s lived so many years without her, loved others, each so different and so brilliant, and yet here he is, creeping on her life. On their life. He never sees himself – the TARDIS seems to keep him away – and yet he’s like a voyeur, watching what he could have had – what he does have.

He’s passing a pub when the doors open and light spills out, along with a bunch of very loud, very drunk men. There seems to be a fight going on – shouting and shoving, curse words exchanged and threats yelled at each other.

It takes him a few moments to recognise Toby Tyler, now twenty. He’s different to how the Doctor would have imagined. Short, cropped hair, muscular arms, and all the ferocity his sister has. He’s shouting something, and as he steps forward, another man takes a swing at him.

Toby stumbles back, before launching forward to jump on the other man. The Doctor realises he’s here – somehow – to stop this, because with the way the other guy is swinging, Toby isn’t going to fare well.

Squaring his shoulders, the Doctor decides to act. With force, he jumps between them, pushing them apart and into the arms of their friends.

“Hey, hey!” he shouts, and the crowd goes quiet. “What makes you think you can fight in front of my pub?! Get off my property, both of you!”

He’s as angry and Scottish as he can manage, and Toby’s opponent is promptly dragged off by his friends. Toby is more resistant.

“Scottish bastard!” Toby mutters, freeing himself from his friends. The Doctor isn’t surprised to see that he’s drunk. “He insulted my sister! Called her a bunch of shit, threatened her, too!”

“I’m sure your sister is fine without you needing to stand up for her.”

The Doctor’s reply makes Toby frown, and then he’s peering at him, leaning over to poke his chest.

“Do I know you? Are you famous?”

The Doctor just steps away. “No, you don’t know me. And no, I’m not famous.”

They’re both lies, but he escapes before he can explain.

-

It’s kind of nice, really. He gets to see their kids grow up. Gets to watch Rose grow old, the way he always intended to.

They have another little girl, a few years after their first daughter. Michael, Ella, and Harriet. Their children. His, but not really.

He’s there for all the important things. The day Michael starts big school, wearing a blazer, sleeves covering his hands, the Doctor is in the playground, watching as proudly as his actual parents. He runs into Rose briefly at one of Harriet’s ballet recitals, and watches Ella unpack her new room at university.

The TARDIS knows, somehow, when and where they’re going to be. Sometimes, he wonders if Rose – or the children – recognise him, but they never say anything, and he keeps whatever distance he can.

The first time he sees himself is at Jackie Tyler’s funeral. He sneaks into the back, next to people he doesn’t recognise, and listens to the service with a distant sadness. Pete’s there, sandwiched between his children, and the Doctor thinks that Jackie would have preferred it this way round. For all her strength, she’s lost her husband once – living without him again wouldn’t have been fair.

And he’s there, too. His arm around Rose, another around one of his daughters. It’s weird to be seeing the back of his own aged head, but the Doctor pushes it away, focusing on being here – sort of – for Rose.

He thinks he recognises himself. At one point, he – the other him – turns around, seeks him out in the crowd. The Doctor just gazes back, and the other him frowns. Before he can do or say anything, Rose sobs, and then his attention is on his wife once again.

The next time he turns around, the Doctor is already halfway to the TARDIS.

-

He doesn’t make it to Pete’s funeral. Instead, he gets dropped by his grave, discovering he died six months ago. The Doctor finds a local flower shop and buys two bouquets, one for Pete and one for Jackie, buried next to him, and heads back to the graveyard. When he gets there, Rose is there, alone, placing flowers on her parents’ graves.

She spots him before he can get away, raising a solemn hand in greeting. He just nods in return, placing the flowers at the nearest grave before promptly walking off. The more he visits, the more afraid he is that she’s going to recognise him, one way or another.

The next death is his own. Well, not his own – the other him. The Doctor skips years here and there, watching the children grow into adults, lurking in the background at their weddings, catching glimpses of their children – his kind-of grandchildren – as they pass him in the park. Really, the Doctor should have known something was coming. Everything was too peaceful to go right for so long.

Rose is 77 when he dies. He only had one life, but he fulfilled his promise of spending it with her. The Doctor is back in the same graveyard, staring this time at his own name.

John Smith. Loving husband, father, and grandfather. Still having adventures, somewhere out there.

It’s true, except that somewhere out there is here, and the Doctor feels like a completely different person to the John Smith who’s buried beneath his feet. They may have once shared the same face, but their lives split so completely. He got the TARDIS. The other him got Rose Tyler. He’s not completely sure who got the best deal.

Rose approaches him before he even realises she’s there.

“Hi,” she’s at his shoulder, placing flowers delicately on her husband’s grave. She’s old and frail now, fingers stiff and legs slow, but she’s still Rose Tyler to him. “Did you know him? My husband?”

For once, he tells the truth.

“A long time ago.”

It has been a long time. For him, and for her. Hundreds of years of adventure, versus a lifetime of happiness and family.

The other him definitely got the better deal.

Rose places a sympathetic hand on his arm, before she frowns.

“Do I know you? I feel like I’ve seen around before.”

“No, no, you don’t.” It’s a lie, again. Of course she does. “I just live locally. You’ll have seen me in passing.”

He shrugs Rose’s hand away, clearing his throat.

“I’m sorry about your husband. You were together a long time. That’s very commendable.”

Rose manages a smile, resting her hand on his tombstone.

“We were. He promised me his life, and he gave me it.”

There’s an ache in the Doctor’s hearts.

“I’m sure he was glad to.”

-

He only visits one more time. When the TARDIS drops him outside of a hospital, he knows this is it. The end of their story. The last time he will see Rose Tyler. For real.

He asks for her at the desk and climbs the stairs slowly. Through everything, this still pains him. To be here, saying goodbye. God, he hates goodbyes.

She’s alone in her room when he enters. She’s 83 now. That’s six years without him. But still – he’s here for the end. The way he always knew he would be.

“Rose?” he says gently, taking her hand. There’s no need to pretend anymore. She looks at him with tired eyes, recognition flickering somewhere in their depths. “It’s okay. I’m here now.”

“You saved Michael. When he was six. And – Toby, when he got in a fight. And – you were there. You were always there.”

The Doctor nods, squeezing her hand as gently as he can.

“You’re him, aren’t you? It’s you. The other you, with the TARDIS.”

He nods again, and Rose’s eyes fill with tears.

“How?” she whispers.

This time, he shakes his head.

“I don’t know. But I’ve been here, for all of it.”

It feels nice to tell the truth for once.

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because you were happy. And you had him, and his life, and I had the honour of seeing it all. And now I’m here. So you don’t need to be scared. I’m with you.”

Rose nods, her frail fingers tightening her grip on his hand.

“Are you happy? Are you still having adventures?”

The Doctor smiles, leaning back in his chair.

“Of course I am. Who do you take me for, Rose Tyler?”

She smiles, too, then – until a cough wracks her chest, and her grip on his hand loosens.

“I’m not scared. I thought I would be, but I’m not. I’m happy, too.”

“Good. That’s what I wanted.”

They sit in silence for a long time, content knowing they’re together for this. After another coughing fit, Rose leans back, her eyes distant as she tries to find the Doctor’s.

“I love you,” she whispers, her eyes falling shut.

The Doctor ducks down to press a kiss to her wrinkled hand, trying to keep the grief from overwhelming him. He’s lost Rose Tyler forever so many times. But this is it. He knows this is it. And if this is his last chance to say it -

“I love you, too.”

Ten minutes later and Rose’s heart monitor slows, fluttering to a halt. He’s holding her hand tightly when she stops squeezing back, and then he’s just gripping it for the two of them.

Before her family – their family – can turn up to say goodbye, he slips out of the room. A final press of his lips to her forehead and he’s said goodbye to Rose Tyler forever.

Like the other him, she only had one life. But they spent it together. And in the last moments, the Doctor was honoured enough to spend them with her.

He walks out of the hospital numb, into the comforting embrace of the TARDIS. His little ship defied every law of physics for this, but it – Rose Tyler – was worth it.

[maylovexhs]

The Other Guy

Author’s Note: And another request! This one is short and soft and it’s just filled with heartbreak. This is dedicated to @ofpeppermintbay. Hope you like it! I enjoy feedback. Thanks! Enjoy loves! M

Masterlist

Concept: Harry cries over his sister’s best friend.

So are you coming over for dinner?

Harrrry!

Answerrr

I read Paige's texts. I stared down at the texts, feeling too uninterested in her to answer. Actually, I was interested in her. Just not that interested in her to want to continue to date her. There was some other girl I did feel that way for though.

"You better answer her" I heard Y/N say. "It's not nice to keep a girl waiting"

I looked up from my phone to see Y/N standing next to me.

Y/N. She was that other girl.

It was also her birthday.

I locked my phone, shoving back into my coat pocket.

"I'll answer her later" I told Y/N. "And happy birthday"

"Thanks honey" Y/N said in a playful tone. "Gemma and Robert have been spoiling me all day"

"Well, that's what happens when you're friends with Gemma" I said to her.

Y/N smiled at my joke.

Yes, Gemma and Y/N. They were best friends and still are. Gemma met Y/N in her senior year of university and became friends instantly. I met Y/N at Gemma's graduation and I had to admit, I felt weak in the knees while first meeting her. I continued to feel weak for her whenever Gemma brought her over over. Although I knew I never would be able to date Y/N for plenty of reasons, particularly because she was my sister's best friend, I still felt something for her. Something that I didn't feel like I had when I dated other girls, including Paige. My feelings for Y/N grew stronger when Gemma started to date Michael. Not surprising, Y/N became the third wheel whenever she was out with Gemma and Michael and of course, as much as Gemma swore she would never bring me along with her friends, she had no other choice. Ever since then, Y/N and I became close friends. She came to my concerts, had dinners with me and accompanied me to other outings. She became the person I soon needed in my life. I fell in love with her. I fell in love with Y/N.

All the other girls in my life couldn't compare to her. The other girls weren't good enough compared to Y/N. The only problem was that I wasn't good enough for Y/N. Her announcing that she was dating Robert two months ago implied I wasn't good enough. So, of course, I tried to move on with Paige. But I couldn't. My feelings for Y/N grew stronger as I tried to move on. Now, I stood here with her. Hiding the secret that I loved Y/N at her birthday party. I was lying straight to her face.

"Just don't tell Gemma I said that" I told Y/N. "I don't need her to tell-"

"Anne?" Y/N finished my sentence. "The sibling rivalry must be that intense huh?"

"You have no idea" I answered, playing into the joke.

Y/N let out a chuckle.

"Y/N!" Gemma called for her.

We both looked to Gemma who was standing with and pointing at Chloe. Y/N and I both knew she had to go to talk to her. We both looked to each other.

"Enjoy the party, H" Y/N told me. "Take a shot or something. I'll be forced to have one"

"Thanks" I said. "Good luck with them"

Y/N smiled at me. She gave me a playful wink before walking away to Gemma and Chloe.

I was not going to enjoy her party tonight. Not when I was too weak in the knees for her.

Y/N placed her empty Jell-O shot cup on the table for the second time so far tonight. I was surprised how she managed to keep her balance as she stood from all the alcohol she had consumed in tonight so far. Then again, Gemma and Chloe has been standing by her side all night. I was expecting Robert to be the one standing by Y/N's side since he was her actual boyfriend. I knew Robert was here. I bumped into him when I entered Y/N's house. I wondered why he wasn't here. I even wondered why Y/N picked him to be her boyfriend. I saw nothing good in him. Robert was a party man. He was careless and always hung around other girls. Half of the times I met him he was drunk and Y/N wasn't the girl to put up with a drunk guy. Y/N wanted adventure and freedom in a relationship. I remember her saying that during one dinner. Why did she think Robert could give her that? I could give her that. Yet she chose Robert. She chose Robert because she thought he was the better one.

"Babe!" I heard Robert call Y/N as he entered the room.

Speak of the devil.

Robert walked over to her, wrapping his arms around her torso. Y/N didn't pay him any attention as she continued to speak to Gemma and Chloe. I felt my heart ache at the sight of them. She chose him? Over me? What did she see in him that I didn't have? I knew I was Gemma's brother but I proved I was a gentleman plenty of times to her. I showed her I was easy going and grounded. I knew being famous meant I had less freedom and privacy and every girl I was pictured with caused a media frenzy but I was more than that. Wasn't I more to that to her?

I watched Robert kiss Y/N as my eyes watered. She just let him kiss her. She didn't put up a fight. She had to love him to put up with him for the past two months. She loved him. She loved him and not me.

I walked out of the room, deciding to leave Y/N's house. I didn't want to cause a scene and I did not want Y/N to know I was crying over her and Robert.

I opened the front doors to her house, seeing no one was outside. I sat down on her front steps, feeling my chest hurt to carry on walking.

I didn't understand her. Why him? Why did she settle for him over anyone else? Over me? Was she too blind to see that I was in love with her? That I treated her more sweet than all the other girls? Did she notice but choose to ignore because I wasn’t good enough for her? I began to think I was. What was so bad about me she wouldn’t want to date me? Because I was Gemma’s little brother? Because I was famous? Because I wasn’t Robert? Did she not want me because of that? All that?

I heard the front doors open. I didn’t look to see who it was to avoid the shame of me crying. I looked down at the steps.

"Hey" I heard Y/N's voice.

Shit. It was her. Out of all people, it was Y/N.

I wiped the tears from my cheeks, trying to pretend I wasn't crying. I turned my head and looked up to her.

"Hey" I smiled to her.

"Why are you sitting out here?" She asked me. "It's cold as fuck. How are you not freezing your ass?"

I let out a laugh.

She always knew how to make something funny when it wasn't. She balanced me out completely. I couldn't do that for her.

I looked down.

"I just needed air" I said. "Surprised you even noticed I was gone"

"I told you, it's my sixth sense" Y/N said. "Always feel when something is wrong"

I looked up to her.

"Me missing from your party is wrong?" I asked. "From all the times you made fun of me, that's hard to believe"

Y/N smiled to herself.

"Can I sit down with you?" She asked. "Please?"

"You don't have to ask" I told her.

"Good" Y/N said, bending down to sit on the steps beside me.

Her breath came out as white in the air. I knew she didn't just come out for me only. If she did, she would have wore a jacket. She must have be upset by something or someone that she needed air as well. I figured it was Robert who made her upset.

"Aren't you supposed to be cutting your cake with Robert now?" I asked her. "I saw you two kissing"

Y/N chuckled.

"Did you?" She asked me. "Did you also see me ditching him because I caught him flirting with another girl?"

I raised my eyebrow at her in intrigue and curiosity.

"He did?" I asked her. "And on your birthday?"

Y/N laughed.

I expected anyone to be crying from seeing the person they love flirt with someone else but instead she was here, laughing.

"Yeah" She answered

I wanted to ask her if she was hurt or wanted to cry but she read my mind and answered before I could ask.

"I'm okay" She said, looking down. "I knew it was never serious. Besides, what can I expect from a guy I met in a club?"

She let out a smile, still looking down at the ground. I smiled at her. Not because I was somewhat happy that she knew her and Robert weren't going to last, but because she found humor in her own ruined relationship. I loved that about her. It was one of the reasons I was attracted to her immediately when Gemma introduced me to her. She was strong and mature for somebody her age. She didn't need to be caught up in my world when I knew it would be a nuisance to her. I knew she acted like Robert didn't bother her, but she had a little bit hurt. I would be.

"But aren't you hurt a little?" I asked her. "I would be"

She looked into the distance for a second and then looked to me.

"Not really" She said. "I wasn't really interested in him. I mean, I went to the club in the first place to get my mind off another guy I like. I really didn't have time to like Robert when I was chasing somebody else. He was more of a fling to me"

I looked away from her and looked down. I felt my eyes start to water again as I thought to imagine Y/N with another person. It already pained me that she was with Robert and now I had to deal with her wanting someone else who wasn't me. She would never go out with someone like me. Not when she was already in love with another guy.

I felt a tear fall down my cheek.

"I sound like a complete whore, don't I?" Y/N asked me. "First I have a crush on a guy who is taken. Then I hook up with Robert to-"

Y/N stopped talking. I wanted to look at her to see why but I didn't want her to notice I was crying. I knew if she noticed I was crying, I would have to tell her the truth. I couldn't let that happen. For one, it wasn't the right time. It was her birthday and she had to worry about Robert and the other guy tonight. She didn't need another person to worry about. For another, I wasn't ready or prepared what would happen after if I told her. I knew Y/N was unpredictable so I couldn't really be ready for her reaction. I had to come up with an excuse.

"H, are you crying?" Y/N asked me.

I wiped the tears off my cheeks. I looked to her. She looked at me with concern.

"Yeah" I answered, sniffling.

Y/N moved, sitting closer to me. She took my hand in hers, trying to soothe me. Despite her hand being close to freezing, I didn't mind it. I relished it. I knew it was impossible to have more than a moment like this with her. Not when I wasn't good enough to earn those moments with her.

"Is it about Paige?" She asked me. "Did something happen between you two? Did she cheat?"

Paige. I completely forgot about Paige and me.

"Was that why you didn't answer her?" Y/N asked. "Did she cheat on you?"

I nodded my head, looking down as I felt my eyes water up. I knew I was lying to Y/N about Paige but I had no other choice. Lying that Paige cheated on me would explain my crying. I knew Y/N understood that would be reasonable to cry over.

"I'm sorry" I apologized. "You shouldn't be worrying about me"

"H, don't be sorry" Y/N said. "It's okay to cry and I don't mind worrying about you. I'm supposed to worry about you. I'm your friend"

A friend. I'm only and always be a friend to her. She'll never worry about me like she does for the other guy she likes. Why would she even like me now? I'm crying on her birthday. I'm practically ruining her night.

"Yeah, but not tonight" I said, wiping my tears as I looked up to her. "Not on your birthday"

Y/N pouted her lips. Her eyes looked as if they were filled with despair.

She had to be disappointed with me. I was disappointed with myself. I should probably leave before I cause her anymore pain.

I stood up from the steps. Y/N looked up at me, being a little taken back.

"Where are you going?" She asked.

"Home" I said. "Think your night is ruined too much already"

"No it isn't, stay!" Y/N said, shaking her head. "I want you here. I love you-"

"Not like the other guy" I blurted out, cutting her off.

Y/N stopped speaking, becoming at a lost for words from what I had said.

I wished I didn't say that. I just confessed I loved her just for her to not respond. I should have really left.

"Forget I said that" I told her.

I walked down the steps, leaving her house. I walked to my car which was around the block.

As I walked, I felt myself begin to cry again. I didn't think to wipe my tears away as I walked. I wanted Y/N to wipe my tears away. I wanted Y/N to tell me everything was going to be alright. I wanted her to tell me she loved me too. She didn't though. She didn't say anything. Was I not good enough as a friend even for her to say anything back? I was. I was right that I was. She was never going to love me. Never as much as the other guy.

[randomrichards]

THE BEST MOVIE MOMENTS OF 2018:

HONORABLE MENTION:

The Opening/Closing Credits from BUDDIES

I’m putting this as honorable mention because this is an older movie recently rereleased.

The first film about the AIDS Crisis, Buddies strikes at the heart with its opening credits with a typed list of AIDS victim up to 1985. Set to a mournful score by Jeffrey Olmstead, the never ending list of lives cut short puts you in tears.

Alex Honnold faces Boulder Problem in FREE SOLO

Most thrillers can only wish they could be as gripping as in the moment when Alex Honnold maneuver’s his way through the most challenging section of El Capitan Wall without rope in this Documentary.

Ray Offers Wisdom from Mid90s

“If you looked in anybody else’s closet, you wouldn’t trade your shit for their shit.”

Ray (Na-kel Smith) and his friends may not be the best role models for the impressionable Stevie (Sunny Suljic), but in this moment, Ray teaches him a lesson in perspective.

Glenn Close’s performance in THE WIFE

I’m not referring to any moment. Just Glenn Close’s acting. She speaks more volumes with her face than most actresses could with dialogue.

10)        The Beach Scene from ROMA

Cleo (Yalitza Aparicio) is an extraordinary woman. Sure, her life hanging towels and cleaning dog poo doesn’t seem like anything special. But like many lower working-class people, she endures. Boy does she endure a lot of shit in this movie. Not only does her deadbeat boyfriend ditch her to practice martial arts, but her baby is born dead. Despite all this, she not only continues her work, but she shares a close bond with the family. She showcases this bond and her strength when a fun day at the beach goes horribly wrong.

When Paco (Carlos Peralta) and Sofi (Daniela Demesa) swim too far out, Cleo walks into the ocean to save them despite not knowing how to swim. We watch in dread as she faces severe waves to find the kids, the camera always close to her.

This scene also contains a beautiful scene of the family hugging Cleo when she tears up over losing her baby. Seeing them all huddled together in front of a bright white sun captures the heart.

9)         “A Place Called Slaughter Race” from RALPH BREAKS THE INTERNET

Admit it, it’s fun to take pot shots at Disney Tropes. Hell, even Disney gets in on the fun. And boy do they seize on every moment to mock Princess tropes when Vanellope Von Shweetz (voiced by Sarah Silverman) encounters the Disney Princesses. Of course, it helps that Director Rich Moore and Head of Story Jim Reardon creates some of the best episodes of the Simpsons. Though there are many hilarious moments[1], none can hold the candle to Vanellope’s “I Want” song.

As she reflects over a puddle, Vanellope sings about her longing to be in the gritty game “Slaughter Race.” Seeing this little girl perform this lighthearted musical number over a background of riots and dumpster fires is comedy gold. Nearly every element of this number elevates the comedy, from singing shark (with cats and dogs in its mouth) to the creative lyrics (“Am I a baby pigeon spreading wings to soar?/ Is that a metaphor?/Hey, there’s a dollar store”). And the number still finds time to emphasize Vanellope’s fear of hurting Ralph (John. C Reilly).

Kudos to Alan Menken for mocking the trope he (and the late Howard Ashman) introduced to Disney. Just as deserving of Kudos is Silverman, who faced to task of singing in Vanellope’s high pitched voice.

8)         Charlie Loses Her Head from HEREDITARY

With her unusual hobbies, connection to her late grandmother and that clicking sound, you’d assume Annie’s (Toni Collette) daughter Charlie (Milly Shapiro) would be the centre of the whole film.[2] Boy, were we in for a surprise.

Spoilers!

When Charlie suffers a peanut allergy reaction, Peter (Alex Wolfe) races her home. On his drive, he sees a mysterious figure in the middle of the dark road. In his attempt to dodge it, he doesn’t see Charlie hanging out the window. Seeing her head slam right into a pole leaves us as traumatized as Peter is. To see them kill off a main character so early in the film is downright shocking. With this death, predictability goes right out the window and we are left uncertain of what direction this film will go.

7)         Neil Armstrong Soars in the X-15 Rocket Plane in FIRST MAN

It’s funny how the most exciting scene in this film isn’t the moon landing. Don’t get me wrong, the scene’s still breathtaking in its realism, but it’s surprising how thrilling the opening scene.

Damien Chazelle hits the ground running with Neil Armstrong (Ryan Gosling) soaring the atmosphere in an X-15 Rocket Plane. He soars higher and higher into the skies until he flies out of earth’s surface and gets stuck in space

Albeit, you know he will be back on earth in time for the moon landing. And yet, I found myself on the edge of my seat, wondering how he’s going to get back to earth. Most of it is thanks to the visual effects, which contains some of the most believable since 2001: A Space Odyssey. The effects leave CGI in the dust with practical effects that look so real, you’d think Gosling was actually flying into space.

6)         The Ferris Wheel Scene from LOVE, SIMON

High School Movies are home to many unforgettable romantic scenes. There’s Samantha (Molly Ringwald) and Jake (Michael Schoeffling) standing over a birthday cake in Sixteen Candles. There’s Patrick (Heath Ledger) singing to Katarina (Julia Stiles) on the bleachers in 10 Things I hate About You. And who can forget Lloyd Dobler (John Cusack) blaring Peter Gabriel’s “In Your Eyes” outside Diane Court’s (Ione Skye) in Say Anything. Be ready to include the closing scene of Simon (Nick Robinson) waiting on the Ferris wheel for online pen pal Blue from Love, Simon.

After being outed by a student, infuriating his friends for deceiving them in his attempt to stay closeted and abandoned by Blue, Simon makes a plea to meet with Blue face to face on the Ferris Wheel at a carnival. As he rides on the Ferris Wheel, he, fellow classmates and the audience wait in anticipation for Simon’s happy ending.

5)         The Book Heist from AMERICAN ANIMALS

When Spencer Reinhard (Barry Keoghan) and Warren Lipka (Evan Peters) plotted to steal extremely valuable books from the Transylvania University library in Kentucky, they thought they had the perfect heist. With the help of their friends Erick Borsuk (Jared Abrahamson) and Chas Allen (Blake Jenner), they thought they pull off a heist as smooth as Oceans 11.[3]

But reality hits them like a sledge hammer when they try to pull off the heist. Unlike their dreams, Librarian Betty Jean Gooch (Ann Dowd) doesn’t get knocked out with one taser jolt. It also isn’t easy to lug a six-foot book down a flight of stairs. Then there’s the fact the basement has no exit. That’s just a few of many problems they never consider. From then on, we witness them pay a huge price for their hubris and lack of real-world understanding.

Only youths as smart as they are to come up with such a stupid plan.

4)         The Mutant Bear from ANNIHILATION

Biologist Lena (Natalie Portman) and her team find themselves in a quite a bind. After entering the Shimmer, physicist Josie Radek (Tessa Thompson) has barely survived an attack from a mutant alligator and Anthropologist Cassie Sheppard (Tuva Novotny) has been attacked by a bear. Now paramedic Anya Thorensen (Gina Rodriguez) has gone mad and has tied up Lena, Radek and Dr. Ventress (Jennifer Jason Leigh). But when they hear Sheppard’s cries for help, they will soon find Anya is the least of their worries.

Their journey delivers many grotesque, nightmare inducing visuals (especially the slithering intestines.) But the most memorable moment in this film was the image of the helpless crew trapped in a cabin with a mutant bear. Bears are scary enough on their own, but a faceless one is pants spitting meeting. And then you hear it imitate Sheppard’s screams and suddenly you need a new pair of pants.

3)         The Great Snap from AVENGERS: INFINITY WAR

The whole Marvel Cinematic Universe had been leading up to this moment. The fact that nearly every character had a moment to shine in this one movie demonstrates the astounding direction of the Russo Brothers. But despite all the epic fight scenes, everyone agrees that this film’s greatest scene is the heroes moment of defeat.

Despite every effort made to stop in, despite outnumbering Thanos and despite Scarlet Witch (Elizabeth Olsen) sacrificing Vision (Paul Bettany) to destroy the mind stone, Thanos still got all the infinity stones. And with a single snap, Thanos succeeds in wiping out half the universe’s population. One by one, we watch many of our heroes vanish into dust while others watch in helpless horror. But none are more heartbreaking that the moment when Spider-Man (Tom Holland) falls into Tony Stark’s (Robert Downey Jr.) arms, crying “I don’t want to go.” All because some characters couldn’t make the sacrifice needed

Yes, we knew he was going to succeed in the end.[4] And yes, you know most of the heroes won’t stay gone.[5] And yes, their return will likely involve the surviving heroes sacrificing themselves.[6] But the ending still feels powerful despite this knowledge.

It all concludes with Thanos sitting near a cottage, content in his triumph. If the MCU ended here, it would have been a perfect ending. But I’m still curious to see how this will go.

2)         The Closing Close-Up in CAPERNAUM

The closing image of Zain’s (Zain Al Rafeea) face will haunt you beyond the closing credits. Throughout the film, we’ve seen this kid struggle through hell on the streets of Lebanon, trying to protect his sister from their resentful parents and helping an Ethiopian Migrant Worker take care of her son. But when he’s sent to prison for assaulting a pimp who bought his sister, he decides to sue his parents for the crime of bringing him into this miserable world. Writer/director Nadine Labaki never looks away for a second to the brutality of Zain’s world and how it brings out the worst in Zain.

When the film freezes to the image of Zain smiling for a Passport photo, your heart breaks for him as Khaled Mouzanar’s haunting score plays out.

1)         Tish and Fonny’s Walk Through the Park in IF BEALE STREET COULD TALK

No other opening scene has done a better job of putting its audience under its spell than when loving couple Tish (Kiki Layne) and Alfonzo “Fonny” Hunt (Stephan James) stroll through a park holding hands.

There’s beauty in every element of this scene, from Nicholas Britell’s romantic score to the warm looks in the character’s eyes. But what really sells it is James Laxton’s lush cinematography. The colours pop through the yellows and blues on the couple’s clothes and the green of the grass. You are as in love with this couple as they are for each other.

Then the film cuts to Tish visiting Fonny in prison, this time the yellow is the prison, the blue is Fonny’s jumpsuit and the green is on Tish’ outfit. From then one, we know why their love is worth fighting for.

[1] Mostly at the expense of Ariel (Jodi Benson)

[2] Especially when she appears so prominently in the advertisements.

[3] As indicated by a fantasy sequence.

[4] Since we know this was going to be a two parter.

[5] Especially when there are already planned sequels to Black Panther, Spider-Man and Guardians of the Galaxy. After all the money Marvel’s got from Black Panther? They’re not going to give up that meal ticket.

[6] What with Robert Downey Jr. and Chris Evans retiring their characters.

[urdearestmom]

you’ll be okay too

part 1

this is a follow-up to that sad prompt oneshot i wrote a few weeks ago bc everyone asked for one so here it is!! hope you guys enjoy it and if you haven’t read the first part the link is right above!

Beep. Beep. Beep.

The heart monitor is steady, the complete opposite of Nancy's own heartbeat as she sits at Mike's bedside. Hopper had gotten a hold of her as soon as he could and she had taken Joyce's car to the hospital, promising to update the others in the morning so they could get a few hours of sleep before making their way over as well. She'd sat with the Chief and an especially quiet and morose El for a while until a doctor came into the waiting room and announced, "Michael Wheeler?"

The younger girl had immediately jumped up, desperate to see her boyfriend, but the doctor had stopped her with a "Family only, miss." She'd slinked back into her seat and Nancy saw tears in her eyes.

"Hey, El, it'll be fine," she reassured her. "I'll check on him and come back in a bit to talk to you guys, okay?"

The other girl sniffed and nodded meekly. Nancy had looked back at the doctor, waiting expectantly to lead her to her brother, and followed him with her heart in her throat.

She'd stayed with Mike for about ten minutes, not really allowing herself time to think about the gravity of the situation, before going back out to the waiting room to relay his condition to El and Hopper, but the two of them weren't allowed in the room until regular visiting hours started at nine in the morning. It was only four. That led her to her current predicament: sitting in a room alone with her hopefully recovering brother and trying not to cry.

God. Nancy's been told that for now, Mike is stable, but it all depends on whether he makes it through the night or not. She knows the doctors did what they could, and the one who'd spoken to her told her that Hopper's makeshift tourniquet and speedy trip to the hospital had saved Mike's life. But it only drives home the fact that he could've died tonight. He almost did, if Hopper and El had found him a few minutes after they did it would've been too late. And Nancy also knows that she wasn't the best sister growing up, probably still isn't, but that doesn't mean she doesn't love her little brother. If he'd died she would've never been able to forgive herself for letting him get so involved in this mess.

(Logically, she's aware that nothing she could've done would've stopped him from leaving with El. His heart belongs to her and her only, and everyone knows he'll follow her to the ends of the earth if he has to. But Nancy has to have someone to blame and usually it's herself.)

She doesn't know what she'll say to their parents to explain this. Mike's missing an arm, for god's sake! They don't even know she's come back to town, but she guesses it'll be both a happy and nasty surprise when she calls them later. With that thought, she lays her head on the bed next to where her hand is joined with Mike's and closes her eyes. Nancy hasn't been to church in years and isn't even sure if she believes in the religion she was raised with, but she's going to pray all the prayers she remembers until she can't anymore.

She ends up falling asleep and is awoken a little before six by a jerking motion beside her head and the heart monitor next to the bed going crazy. She snaps her head up to see that Mike is awake, but he looks terrified. His breathing is erratic and so is his heartbeat, going by the monitor. Moments later, a pair of nurses rushes into the room. They both start flitting around him, checking all the machines and trying to restrain him.

Nancy watches in shock as her brother's eyes bulge and his throat works, words struggling to escape. She's never seen him like this. At this point, he's just making guttural noises and attempting to push the nurses away, but he can't do that really well since he hasn't realized he's missing half of one of his arms yet. He sees his sister sitting by the bedside and it's when he registers that it's her that a raspy, "Nancy," rips out of his throat.

She stands suddenly and he immediately relaxes, the nurses pushing him back into the mattress. "We need you to stay calm, Michael," one of them says. "Can you do that for us?"

Mike looks at her and confusion spreads across his face, as if he's just now noticing that he's in a hospital. "What am I doing here?"

"Michael-"

His head whips back to Nancy. "Where's El?"

Nancy's mouth opens to speak but words don't come out. He's just woken up in a hospital with half an arm gone and his concern is his girlfriend. Of course it is-

"Where's El?!" He asks again, voice louder. He's starting to push back against the nurses again, as if he's going to get out of the bed and go searching for El himself. "Where- Nancy, where is she?!"

Nancy doesn't know why she can't answer. Her voice suddenly isn't working. Maybe it's shock at seeing Mike the way he is right now, disoriented, hurt, and angrier than ever. Maybe her vocal cords just decided to stop functioning. But whatever it is, it isn't helping. Mike starts screaming, mostly unintelligible words, but Nancy makes out a few very violent "Let me go!"s before the other nurse sticks a needle in his good arm and Mike goes out again.

Her breath returns to her in a sharp gasp and she walks back toward his bed. She hadn't noticed that she'd stepped away. The first nurse turns to her. "Who's El?"

Nancy stares at her unconscious brother for a moment before looking up at the woman. "His girlfriend," she answers, voice stilted.

The nurse raises her eyebrows. "Is she in the waiting room?"

"Yes." Nancy swallows. "She and her dad are the ones who brought him here. El Hopper," she adds.

"Martha," the nurse says, addressing the other one, "Maybe we should go get her? If he wakes up again and she's not here... I don't want that happening twice, the strain won't be good on him."

Martha nods. "I'll be right back." She exits the room quickly, leaving Nancy with the other woman.

"I'll be by again in about fifteen minutes to give you a rundown, alright?" She says.

Nancy nods numbly and sits back down in her previous seat. Now that Mike's asleep again, she lets her shock take her over and feels a pricking in her eyes. He woke up, but he could have not. And what would she have done then? She pretends she doesn't like him most of the time because that's just how most sibling relationships are, but the truth is that Mike is one of the most important people in her life and a part of her would have died with him.

Moments later, El herself is escorted into the room by Martha and Nancy watches as the teen girl's eyes widen and fill with water, her hands flying up to cover her mouth. She's shaking like a leaf during a storm when she stops on the other side of Mike's bed. Nancy traces the sound through the air when El lets out a loud sob and reaches down to cradle Mike's face in her hands.

"He's okay," she cries. "Oh my god..." Her cheeks are soaked with fresh tears and she leans down to carefully set her head on Mike's chest as if to hear his heartbeat and confirm that he really is okay.

Nancy feels numb as she sits and watches the two. She knows the amount of love her brother has for the girl in front of her, and she can see that El returns all of it and then some. It would have been a grievous mistake for the universe to rip them away from each other.

El stays like that for a little while longer before standing and walking to Nancy’s side of the bed, where she wraps the older girl in a tight embrace. They clutch each other like the world will end if they let go, seeking an almost unattainable comfort in one another.

El leans away, her face blotchy and wet. “Are you okay?”

Nancy feels even more like she’s going to cry. She gives a hiccupy little laugh. “Why are both of you so concerned with everyone but yourselves?”

El gives her a confused look.

“Mike,” Nancy starts, “He woke up and the only thing he cared about was where you were. I think he was trying to leave to go find you but the nurses stopped him. He didn’t notice that- that his arm’s gone!”

El’s confusion turns to a muted joy for a moment before returning to her previous sadness. “I never should have let him come.”

Nancy reaches up to rub the other girl’s shoulder, trying to offer the consolation she cannot give herself. “It’s not your fault, you know he would’ve followed you as soon as you left. There was nothing you could’ve done.”

El sighs and sinks into the end of the bed, hunching over with her face in her hands. “I know you’re right, but I just… it could have been so much worse, Nancy. You didn’t see him when we found him, he was dying! There was blood- everywhere I looked,” she chokes out. “I’m going to have nightmares for the rest of my life.”

Nancy shakes her head and reaches out for El’s hands to grasp. She focuses on the younger’s eyes intently. They shine brightly with unshed tears but they hold her gaze, so Nancy finds the words she needs to speak. “We’re all going to have nightmares, it’s expected with the things we’ve been through,” she says, rubbing her thumbs across El’s knuckles like she used to spy Mike doing when his love was stressed. “But we’re also all here for you when you need us. Mike might not be in the best shape right now but he will be better, and everyone knows he’s never going to leave you. You’ll both be there for each other because he needs you just as much as you need him. Do you understand?”

El blinks at her and Nancy listens to their breaths suck in and puff out for a moment before El nods. “He’ll get better. We’ll be okay.”

“You will, El,” Nancy says, and somehow the firmness of her statement brings her a slight sense of calm. She’s certain now that it’ll be okay for her too. “It’ll take a while, but one day, you’re going to be so happy that you’ll forget any of this ever happened, even if it’s just for that day.”

“Like grief. It never goes away, you just learn to deal with it and kind of forget it, right?” El asks, now having let go of one of Nancy’s hands and wiped her nose on her sleeve.

Nancy grips her other hand tightly, looking away and feeling the lump rise in her throat again. “Exactly.”

El squeezes back. “You’ll be okay too, Nancy.”

Nancy offers a weak smile. She’ll be okay too.      

[be-ready-when-i-say-go]

The Hard Things--Alternative Ending

Doing the right thing is never easy. Calum and Freya have a lot going for them. But what happens when fear gets in the way.

Inspired by I Follow Rivers by Marika Hackman and Starting Line by Luke Hemmings.

Calum X Black Female OC. Angst with a happy ending. Because my characters should never be happy.

The Hard Things--Original Ending.

Materlist (on a semi hiatus)

___________

If Freya were going to be honest, she would admit that the second she saw Calum and his friends walk into the building she knew things were going to be bad. But Freya’s not being honest. Because being honest would almost include admitting just how too easy it was that day. How if those particular sequences of events hadn’t happened that specifically, then she wouldn’t be here--trying not to watch the quiver in his chin or the way he blinks rapidly. Then she wouldn’t be trying to forget the way his voice quakes.

But they did happen in that particular order. On a Thursday afternoon, he and his friends walked through the door. And here, here at this part, it’s easy to be honest.

Honestly, she is staring--way too hard and way too long at the rag-tag gaggle of people, but especially the man pulling up the rear of the group with a bright red hat snug on his head and covering his eyes, though not even the brim can hide the plump full lips pulled up into a tiny grin at something that must’ve been said. Because another guy, this one fairer-skinned in a hat too and a baggy t-shirt is also laughing. And of course, this group would enter just as Tre stepped away to check on the lanes already throwing. Vanessa wasn’t too far from the desk, but she was trying to help some parents figure out when they could schedule an event for someone’s birthday in the coming weeks.

This only leaves Freya as the only person available right now until rounds were completed to handle any new patrons. With a glance down to the clock on the computer, she could see that a couple more folks would be coming back to the front at any point. But clearly, that point wouldn’t come quick enough.

“Hi,” Freya greets flicking her gaze back up to the group with a quick smile. It’s the training. The fact that more than once she’d been told that customers liked her, especially the way she gave instructions but she needed to smile more. And if this weren’t the job keeping her afloat during her time of getting her degree, in addition to the administrative desk work she did at the university, she would leave here in a heartbeat. Possibly even in the blink of an eye. Whichever was faster.

“Hey! We were hoping you had a couple of lanes for us.”

Freya counts the head. “Just you seven?”

The guy that spoke initially turns the man in the back with the bright red hat on. “Still no word from her?”

The guy shrugs. “Don’t sweat it.” And Freya clings to every syllable. The almost sleepy drawl to his voice lined with a twinge of an accent. She can’t place it at first. But all of them share slight variations in it. The man in the red hat’s voice is low but smooth.

“Yeah just the seven of us,” a taller man pipes in.

“Okay, we can only have two people throwing on a lane at a time. I can put you on neighboring ones but we’ve got very strict rules about how many people can throw at a time.”

There’s a murmur amongst the group but eventually, it comes back to Freya that they’re okay with it. She runs down the safety rules, the forms they have to form out, and checks their IDs. She notices the man with the red hat’s name is Calum and though she knows she shouldn’t, she tries to commit it to memory. It won’t last long. She forgets names all too fast, but she never forgets a face.

“Nessa, watch the desk for me!” Freya calls out as she collects the cases with the axes and directs the party to their lanes. There’s a table for convening and a separate for the axes to rest. “Alright,” she starts with a quick whistle to settle the group. They get chatty but are quick to turn their attention back to her. “I don’t want to kick anyone out, but I will. So one last recap of the rules.”

When Freya finishes, she has the entire group repeat the rules back to her. When they return it to her all correctly, she smiles. “I appreciate y’all already. There are several range officers. They monitor carefully from several posts,” and she points them out as she speaks. “The shift rotates out in an hour. Meaning you’ll have to pause let the old shift go and let the new shift jump in. You’ll hear beeps to signal you to stop and start. If you have any other questions or concerns, you can find me at the front or a range officer. And we’ll be happy to help. Let’s keep all fingers, toes, extremities, and eyeballs intact and we can have a great day together. Enjoy.”

Usually, in her safety spills and best way to throw, Freya makes sure to keep eye contact with everyone in the group. However, she places a purposeful gaze on Calum when she tells them to enjoy. It’s reckless--she knows that. A little flirting hasn’t hurt her. Besides, she knows the moment she walks away, he’ll forget about her. They always did and she likes it like that. Flirty enough to keep good reviews, but never too flirty to insinuate anything more.

In her departure, Freya feels eyes on her, lasting longer than usual. And maybe she put more emphasis behind the swish of her hips and maybe she hoped it was Calum watching her walk away. But she doesn’t dare turn around. No matter how much she hopes in a fleeting second that maybe she had flirted just a little too much, Freya does not turn around to confirm or deny anything.

Back at the front desk, Freya takes a look at the cameras. Anyone at the front can see the lanes too--it’s for safety when you have live blades. Her gaze travels over each one though just out of the corner of her eye she catches the bright red hat. A few guys clasp him on the back but she can’t hear whatever else is said. The rest of the afternoon goes by slowly. As people leave, few come in to replace them. The weekend will be busier--it always in. And Freya knows that soon too, once the afternoon becomes evening things will pick up just a little.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m here. Everything okay?”

Freya barely sees who it is talking before they’re out of the door. Calum, phone pressed to his ear. She watches him for a beat as he paces near the front windows of the establishment. Her gaze doesn’t linger long before something on the floor catches her eye. She sees it’s black and square. When she gets closer it looks like a wallet. Clearly used and loved by the creases in it. She glances back up to Calum to see him still on the phone and peeks at the ID just to make sure who it belongs to.

With the blank stare of Calum’s ID photo looking up at her, Freya takes it back behind the desk. She’ll wait until he gets off the phone. A minute or two later, the door chimes again with Calum reentering.

“Hey, you dropped this,” she calls out, stepping out from the desk to hold out the wallet.

Calum pats his pockets and a split second panic causes his eyes to go wide. “Oh shit, thanks. I-I didn’t even realize it fell out of my pocket.”

“No worries. Just glad to get it back to you.” Calum takes it and slips it into his pocket, hands patting the outside to make doubly sure it’s secure. “You guys doing okay back there?

“Yeah, we’re good. Though I think somehow the girls are kicking our asses.”

Freya smiles with a small tuft of laughter escaping her. “It’s power and finesse. You can tear down brick buildings but if you don’t get the release right so it’s not twirling over the axis too many times, you’ll come up with nothing.”

“So says the expert?”

Her cheeks heat for a second at the raised eyebrow Calum gives her. Running her tongue over her teeth to hide the smile, Freya nods. “Yeah, I’ve thrown an axe or two in my lifetime. So I guess that counts as me being an expert.”

Calum laughs. Whether it’s at her or not, Freya’s not sure. But she likes the sound of it. “Tell me what else the expert suggests.”

A moment passes where Freya’s watching his gaze. Wondering if an anime glint will twinkle over his brown eyes because it’s a smooth delivery. Smoother than some of the stuff she’s done. There’s no way he’s fucking real.

Freya takes a half step back, slipping through the threshold that separates the front desk from the main lobby and the hallway to the back where the lanes are set up. “This expert suggests that you try her advice and impress all your friends.”

“More finesse. In the wrist, right?”

“In the wrist.”

A shy smile is shared between the two of them. It borders telling everything and saying nothing at all, borders on giving away on how much Calum might’ve considered concocting a ruse just to get her attention and how much he did backtrack on his plan because it was his sister calling and that shocked him. The smile borders on Freya twirling the Havana twists around her finger and her rolling her eyes at Calum’s thinly veiled attempts at flirting.

Both of them are saved by the front door chiming and Freya gives a nod to Calum before turning her attention to the person now entering. But Calum watches the way she leans into the counter and smiles down at the small child standing next to their parent. “Oh my god, you’re getting so big,” Freya comments and then walks back around to settle next to them.

“No, Fre, I’m not bigger dan yesterday,” the kid responds.

“Huh, could’ve fooled me. Your dad will be out in just a second. Shift change had to wait for one more person. Anything cool happen at school today?”

Calum leaves then, though he can catch the small boy gush about the races he won at recess. It’s probably crazy of him to try and find some sort of way to come back here again soon, but Calum’s already trying to put together an excuse.

When Calum heads back to the front with the group, laughing at Michael’s utter disgust at the way the last few throws went, he does look for Freya. A girl with red hair is sitting at the desk instead. And though a little bit of disappoints settles into his stomach because he wanted to tell her how well her advice worked, he finds himself resolved and it wouldn’t be broken.

******

Calum told himself whatever Freya had to say during this talk wouldn’t break him. Hell, if he were honest, he didn’t think it would go like this. “You know, I used to say I was no good for people all the time,” Calum laughs. He sniffs hard and wipes his noses on the back of his nose. “It was a clean get-away line.”

“I’m not giving you a get-away line. I’m giving you the truth,” Freya returns.

“No, I’m-I’m not saying you’re giving me bullshit. You’re setting a boundary and a good one at that. I respect it. I’m just saying the irony. The same thing I used to tell others is coming back my way.”

“Karma’s a bitch.”

“I don’t regret it.” Calum shakes his head, not because he’s lying. But to emphasize his point.

*****

Calum doesn’t regret going to the Yelp, Facebook, or Instagram page of the business to see if she had liked it or appeared anywhere on their social media. And luck would have it, he manages to find her. The owners like to show off their employees. Their preferred form of employee appreciation appears, in Calum’s investigation, to be a quick bio of new employees along with a video of them throwing. He nearly misses Freya’s post because of his quick scrolls. The bottom of the page comes up quicker than the app could handle and just as the new page loads that he notices it. The thick twists and black lipstick sitting on her cool dark brown skin.

He doesn’t regret it when he followed the account that was tagged, or the message he sent her from his finsta, or the messages they exchanged for a few days. And he for damn sure can’t find himself to regret it when he came back to the place a couple of weeks later to see if Freya was working.

There’s no regret when she smiles at him and laughs. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m here to test your theory yet again. It worked last time. But I want to make sure that it wasn’t beginner’s luck.”

“You doubt me. You dare doubt me? I’m offended.”

Calum laughs briefly as he leans into the counter of the front desk. “It’s more like I’m testing a theory. Making sure the results can be recreated.”

“Oh, I promise you my results are valid.” She reaches out for his ID and every so gently their fingers brush. Calum can’t tell if that’s intentional or not, but it doesn’t the slight shiver that runs down his spine. “So just you today, huh?” Freya continues on, grabbing a clipboard, some forms, and a pen.

“Just me.”

“Rest of your friends scared.” Her gaze falls to the stack she’s gathering, checking something off on the top page and then sliding the ID back to Calum.

“They’d probably laugh at me if they knew I was here.”

“Laugh at you?”

“Tell me--why do you think I’m here?”

A moment passes between them. Though it takes up more like several seconds, time feels froze as Freya studies his face. Calum wants to reach up and readjust his hat out of a nervous habit. He wants to take it back. But more than anything, he wants to know if he has a shot. If it’s worth really pursuing.

“I think you’re here to test a theory. Maybe, just maybe you’re here because of Vanessa too,” she smiles as it says. Like she knows that isn’t the truth but she doesn’t want to give into Calum.

And while it’s not the answer he was hoping for, Calum takes it. She wants to play a game and he can be down for that.

*****

She wants to reach out for his hands. They sit next to each other in the lounge chairs Calum keeps lined around his pool. But Freya thinks twice about it. The bulbs dangle above them casting an amber hue onto the water, a stark contrast to the twilight pressing evening closer to night’s full darkness. Freya does regret it. She regrets not leaving her teasing response just to testing a theory. She knew what Calum was fishing for, what he was hoping to confirm when he came back by himself.

Maybe it was just where she was then. Then she thought she could give more. Now she realizes she can’t. She likes it when she’s dating someone and they can decide on a random Sunday for errand runs. She likes having them around. And not that Calum wouldn’t be around. Tours didn’t happen all the time. But they did run long. And who the hell knows where she’d be in eight months after she graduated. Her life wasn’t stable--she wasn’t tied to the West Coast like Calum was.

Her life was full of variables. Ones that she didn’t really plan on trying to solve until closer to Christmas in the spring right before graduation. And she didn’t want to give Calum any more false hope. It wasn’t set in stone that she’d be staying in LA and it wasn’t set in stone that she could handle the long departures. Calum deserved someone that was more sure of themselves.

“I think having regrets is no good anyway,” Freya says, finally breaking the long silence between them. “Having them doesn’t change what happened anyway.” But that doesn’t change the fact that you still regret this, Freya thinks to herself.

“I used to believe love could overcome any obstacle.”

Freya turns to look to Calum and catches thhe way the stubble on his chin from the few weeks he’s gone without shaving halos just a little in the lights. “Used to? The right person, the right love--”

Calum shakes his head. “Now I think people loving me means that they love themselves and they can tell me what they want or need. No guessing. No games.”

“Still sounds a lot of a hell lot like overcoming obstacles.”

“But it’s not a dream. It’s tangible. It’s not me daydreaming up in the clouds. It’s me--right here. Right now. Knowing seeing what it means more than anything else that all the shit I was thinking of as a kid really needed just to be put on the ground level for me.”

“What-what do you mean?”

“I mean as much as it fucking sucks that you’re telling me no, I know you’re doing it for the right reasons. I-there’s like this thing with me. I watch people. I don’t walk into a room of strangers and become the center of attention. I don’t like people all that much, but I care. You know? I care about the people I put into my life and I want them to do well and succeed. I want what’s best for them. It’s not always easy to want that, but innately, I do, I think. Deep down I want what’s good for people. And maybe love is doing the hard things, you know.”

He pauses. Freya watches the way he drops his head, fingers threading through the curls. She keeps quiet. There’s something more, something deeper to the words. “And you’re doing the hard thing. Whether it’s for me or not is debatable,” Calum continues. “But I think love is doing the hard things.”

“You said that having some space was important to you. And while I understand that, like you do need to be your own person in a relationship--”

“Your reasons or how you want to justify it to yourself for me isn’t something I need. You already said that you know what you expect and like out a relationship and that the touring would be too hard for you. Set boundaries for you. What good does it do to justify it to me?”

“So you know I’m not being an asshole, Calum. For fuck sake.”

“No, no, I-shit. I didn’t mean it like that. I meant--who are boundaries really for? What do they do?”

“I guess they do protect the person making them. But I’m not trying to be an asshole to you. I swear.”

Calum looks up from the cement of his background lining the pool to the glossy sheen coating Freya’s eyes. They’re black in the settling night. But Calum knows they’re more like a medium brown--dark enough to get lost in them, but when they catch the light just right, they can feel like an enchanting spell sucking him in.

“Freya, you are a sarcastic son of a bitch. But an asshole to those that don’t deserve it, never.”

She sucks on her teeth, swatting at his bicep. “Take that back.”

Calum leans onto his left elbow, closing the gap between them just a little. A smile lifts his lips gently. “Never.”

“We’ve both been burned. Is it bad I didn’t want that again?”

“No. I used to say love is a scam. So I don’t think I’m necessarily the poster boy for relationships.”

“But admit it, you hoped this was the one so you wouldn’t be the odd man out.” His brows furrow at her comment. Freya gives him a soft smile. “Two of the guys are engaged. But all three of them are in a relationship.”

He sighs, gazing dropping from her face. “Maybe I was hoping so. Is it bad of me to want to be in love?”

“No. I told some kids that my boyfriend was Shermar Moore,” Freya admits with a laugh. “I was working at a summer camp and one girl saw his picture on my phone. It was my lockscreen for the longest time. So I just went with it. Well, I was spurred in part because of Drew who was a fucking creep and wouldn’t leave me alone. But I did fantasize about it. Dream of being in love with some famous and the limelight. Shit at that point, I hadn’t even dated anyone either. So another part of it was a desire too.”

“Is that part of it too? Worried about what trolls and whatever will say?”

“Oh, no one who doesn’t know shit about it can make me get outside myself.” Freya laughs but reclines into the cushions of the chair. “But maybe it’s a little bit of it. That’s too many voices talking all about you. It’s a lot of noise and some of it has to bleed through you know. Even if you’re careful and you work not to take it in, some does, right?”

“I don’t think humans were created to be able to handle that much criticism or even love and adoration. Our brains can’t handle it. So yeah, a little bit seeps in. But you keep that door closed as much as you can. You talk to people that also get it. Fuck, you even get a therapist.”

“Or a dog,” Freya says before turning her head to watch Duke laying inside next to the back door.

“And a dog,” Calum corrects.

“Excuse me, you get a therapist and a dog.”

“Tell me something.”

“I’m listening,” Freya returns, looking back to Calum.

“Before you go tonight, tell me the thing you’re going to cherish between us.”

“Will you do the same?” Calum nods at the question but doesn’t respond verbally as he gazes at her.

“Do you want to answer now?”

“Are you leaving now?”

“I-I didn’t think you wanted me to stay.”

“I want you to stay as long as you feel comfortable. And then when you leave, the parting thing we have is the good, the best of us.”

“What if I stay until dawn?”

“Then you stay until dawn. Though, I think it’s safe to say both of us will pass out by 3 AM.”

“That was the most ridiculous thing I think I’ve ever done,” Freya laughs. Remembering the same she spent a Friday night after a shift at Calum’s place. He had a birthday party on Saturday along with a vet appointment with Duke. And then Sunday, Freya had we weekly lunch with her friends that she couldn’t miss. So Calum asked her if she wanted dinner Friday night at his place. Which she said yes to, but then it turned into them doing a movie marathon. Which then turned into Calum betting her that he could stay up longer than her. But they ultimately passed out around 3 in the morning on Calum’s couch.

“Thankfully, I did not miss Duke’s vet appointment that time,” Calum tacks on.

“Yeah, no thanks to me waking you up half an hour before it.”

“That darlin’ is what I call details.”

“No, I call that a very important fact,” Freya defends sitting up. “Duke would’ve been late twice if not for me.”

Calum giggles at her incredulous look. She always got heated fast, though she knew when it was serious things and when it wasn’t. “It wasn’t him paying for the visit.”

“So you ought to kiss the ground I’m standing on right now because you didn’t have to pay anything like a cancellation fee.”

“You’re not standing on any ground right-” the sentence doesn’t get the wind to complete itself when Calum watches her stand up. “Or maybe you are standing up.”

Freya hears him, but she gazes up to the sky. Trying to look past the twinkle of his backyard lights. There’s not much to see due to the light pollution. But the sounds capture her attention next. His neighborhood’s almost been mostly quiet. But with the twinge of the summer’s heat fading, Freya can hear the last bit of people outside. A dog barks into the night and there’s the crunch only tires on gravel and asphalt can give. There’s a hum in the night that Freya can feel in her bones.

It’s hard not to fall in love with the sounds of the night. It’s hard not to romanticize this, how possibly if things were different she could find herself at some point always standing in the middle of this backyard listening to the sounds of the night, having Calum beside her or maybe Duke when he’s gone and just letting herself go to the buzz. In all honesty, Freya craved stability. Always having something to come back was her dream. But in that dream it was a partner who would be there for every dinner. A shared space that was full with both of their presences.

“When you think about coming home what’s there?” Freya asks. “Like, in ten years, what’s in your home when you walk inside?”

Calum closes his eyes, bringing the picture to his mind’s eye. “Like, the truth of what I see?”

“The truth,” Freya confirms.

“Two kids, a dog for sure. Maybe two. A wife. A lot of laughs. Being knocked over with hugs. Maybe a movie that hasn’t quite been paused catches my ears. Maybe it’s summer and my mum’s over too. Because she wants to be around the kids as much as possible. And my sister--she comes over when she can too. So we have to figure out what to cook because it’s a family dinner night. I’m mostly likely in Australia. But I could be somewhere else. Just not LA. I don’t think I could have kids here.”

“That sounds lovely, Calum.”

“But I am scared. My parents divorced. What if it doesn’t work out?”

“That wasn’t your fault. And if we heal from our trauma before having kids then maybe some of our fears won’t come to reality.”

“And if it does.”

“Then we know the boogeyman is real and sometimes we can do our best but things that are meant to happen will still happen.”

“Your parents are divorced too, right?” Calum remembers her mentioning a distinction between her mother’s house and her father’s house. But she hadn’t outright stated that her parents were divorced, just alluded to it.

“Yeah. My dad remarried. He seems happy.”

“What about you? If you closed your eyes and thought about yourself in 10 years, where are you?”

“I technically asked what do you see in your home when you walk inside 10 years from now.”

“Oh, come off it,” Calum laughs, throwing a dismissive wave her way.

“But,” she giggles and then closes her eyes. The breeze blows across her face and she lifts her chin up to catch as much of it as she can. Then she speaks, “I don’t know. Home’s full of the people I love. And I feel stable. I’m not worried about what I’m going to do weeks from now when something inevitably has to change. Because nothing’s going to change. Or at least, I’m not anticipating change. I think that’s what I’m sick of. I’m sick of dealing with change and constantly moving around and not knowing what the next year is going to look like. I’m tired of looking over my shoulder and planning. I just want to be still.”

“You did the whole back and forth between houses, huh?”

“Yeah. I always felt like I was playing two versions of myself when I was younger. I had to be one way around my mother and one way around my father and according to my therapist, the constant games of charade fucked me up a little.”

“How often did you go between their houses?”

“Every weekend.”

Calum sucks in air through his teeth, “Yikes. Yeah, no wonder you want stability.”

“Oh, thank you Dr. Hood. Tell me something I don’t know.”

“Well this is a question so it’s not something you don’t know, but is the thought of me being gone for months at a time remind you of that? Like, you’d have to be one way while I was here and then another way when I was gone?”

Freya shrugs. But it’s right on the nose. “I’d have to learn to be with you and then be without you. And all I have are switches. No dimmers. I’m either on or I’m off. And I-I’m working on it. But I’ve got a long way to go.”

Calum scoffs, whispering mostly to himself. “All I have are switches. No dimmers.” It’s not a taunt to her. It’s not him blowing her concern off. It’s recognition that colors his tone. It’s the sigh when hearing something that connects so deeply it takes all the oxygen from lungs with it.

“And I swear to Christ, Calum, if you make a Lowe’s or Home Depot joke, I will extract your ankles from you right here right now.”

“Extract? What the hell?” Calum laughs.

“Broken ankles heal,” Freya returns with a smirk. Her face is lit mostly from above due to continued standing position but Calum catches the way her lips move.

“Remind me to really never piss you off. Between your ability to throw axes and the time you told me about putting ham on a girl’s car, I don’t think I want that kind of trouble in my life.”

“I only put the ham on the car because my friend was heartbroken and she was a cunt for cheating.”

“Yeah, see that’s what I mean,” Calum points out, his index finger swirling in a circle in front of her.

“I could’ve slashed her tires too.”

“I think ruining her paint job was more than enough.”

Freya places her hands on her hips, looking down at Calum. “I’ve got some anger issues too. Did I mention that?”

They laugh but Calum recovers first to speak. “I hadn’t noticed it before. Thank you for telling me that. But in all seriousness, Freya, the boundaries you have make sense. I hope you continue with therapy as well,” he states with a giggle. “But it’s not easy to look back at yourself and realize ‘Oh shit, maybe I don’t want that thing again because that actually fucking hurt’. And do something about it. That takes a lot of strength.”

“Thanks, Calum. And I will continue with this therapist for the rest of the school year because it’s free. Shoutout to some universities for having really accessible mental health resources.”

Freya finally sits, facing Calum. He keeps his gaze averted. But it doesn’t bother her. “What’s the intention behind telling me I can stay as long as I want? Is it to get me to change my mind? Just earlier both of us were near tears and now we’re walking down memory lane. Sharing things we hadn’t shared yet.”

“I want as much of you as I can get before you’re gone. Selfish, right?” The tears are back, she can hear them in his voice.

“No. A bit of your masochism showing, certainly.”

“You ever know something’s bad for you, but you want it anyway? You want the pain anyway?”

“I mean considering both of us are littered tattoos, pain’s not something we’re too worried about.”

Calum wishes he didn’t laugh, not even the short burst of laughter. “Someone’s coping with humor.”

“Someone’s self flagellating.”

“Can I be honest?”

“Of course.”

“I don’t want you to go. But I don’t want you to hurt yourself either.”

“Maybe love is doing the hard things. You said that yourself.”

Calum swallows hard and his voice only comes out in a whisper. “I know I did.”

Freya blinks away the blur of tears. But as soon as they clear, more replace them. Her voice is tight as she speaks. “Doing the hard things suck though. Don’t think this is easy.”

“It’s because it’s the hard thing,” Calum returns. He wants to smile and manages to get a small one but he knows. Freya’s going to leave. She won’t stay.

“My favorite thing,” she starts and Calum exhales hard. There it is--the confirmation. The sentence gets caught in her throat so she pauses to clear it, work the tears down to at least speak. God, why couldn’t it have been easy. “My favorite thing between us, about us, whatever you want to label it as, is that we could also be honest. And even if it was burning waffles or ducking paps to watch a movie for an anime that you had no idea anything about because I wanted to go desperately and you had to Google a summary during the previews, we were always honest with each other.”

“I want to put it out there that you only told me that it was for an anime as I was buying the tickets. So I had zero time to prepare beforehand.”

“I told you the name of it the Monday before we saw it.”

“And admittedly, I forget it the second after you said it.”

“Fair enough, Calum. Fair enough.”

Calum spins in the chair and takes her hand. The first time they’ve touched today. Normally, Freya was more than happy to give out hugs but when Calum opened the front door, she have a half smile and stepped inside. If he could go back to earlier, he’d tell himself that was the first sign.

His thumb passes gently over the butterfly on her left hand. “The thing I’m going to cherish is that you made me feel sixteen again. My entire life changed at sixteen and I felt pretty invincible. I was also scared and excited. I was going to be in a band, like a one with lots of records and I don’t know--I only had that dream to believe in because I damn sure did not have a back up. It was before the downs. And I don’t regret the hard times either. But you’re the first person in a long time that gave me those butterflies. Assumed I was just never going to feel them again and I wasn’t a good person before, not as good as I could’ve been. But you gave me something to be good for again. Getting your text made my whole fucking day. And you-god, you cared about so many things. I bought books you recommended and couldn’t wait to talk about them with you. I remembered the kind of person I want to be. So thank you. For making me feel sixteen again in the cheesiest way possible but also in the best way possible too. That things are worth giving a shit for and that we can let people in and it won’t always burn.”

“Just a little sting.”

Calum nods. “Just a little sting.”

Freya brings his hands to her lips, pressing a soft kiss to the right one. Her sniffle is loud amongst the hum of the night. “If it weren’t for the fact that my eyeliner is tattooed to my face it would probably be running. I’m sorry it has to hurt at all. But-but I’m hopeful.”

“Hopeful?”

“Hopeful that we’ll get what we need out of life.”

He nods again, watching the tears track down her cheek. “We will.”

Her hands gently slip back out of his grasp and she uses the back of her wrist to press under her nose. The tremors shake her hands, so she shakes them before standing. Calum cranes his neck up, words about to fall from his lips. But she cups his cheek and smiles at him. “Don’t. There’s nothing else to say.”

It happens just as he blinks. He sighs, eyes closing to steel himself. Because there’s always so much else to say. And then her lips are pressing to his forehead. It last long enough for Calum to take hold of her thighs instinctively want to pull her in closer to him.

Then she’s gone. His hand slides down the rough denim and Freya’s walking to the edge of the backdoor. Duke picks up his head but doesn’t move much else. “Oh yeah, you don’t need to move. You know everyone comes to you, huh?” She gives him a few pats and scratches. “I’ll send you something for your adoption day, okay, love? And you might hate wearing it or you might love eating it. But be on the lookout for the mailman. He’ll have something from me.”

Calum doesn’t say anything as she says her goodbyes to Duke. She kisses the top of his head too and he thinks she might’ve whispered something else but he’s not certain from his spot on the chair. The swish of the tassels on Freya’s jeans signal her and the click of her heeled boots tell Calum she’s walking farther from him. The latch in the fence clicks and the wood around the hinges creak as she presses into the door. There’s a soft thud as the door shuts and then Calum can’t hear anything over the cough he uses to try and cover the tightness in his chest, can’t see anything in the blurry vision of his tears

She’s just gone.

******

When the front door bell sounds, Calum doesn’t think much of it. It could be a package or someone selling something. So he pushes up from the kitchen table and heads to the door. There on his porch is a light blue box with white bones on it. The subscription box that Calum gets already came. But then he notices an index card with a handwritten address on it. He picks it up. Right there in the return address is Freya’s name. He sucks in a breath and then looks to see who it’s addressed to: Duke Hood + Calum.

“Duke,” Calum calls out, stepping back inside to the house. He closes the door with his foot. The click of paws let him know the old man’s heard his call. “A little early birthday present has arrived just for you.”

He walks deeper into the living room and sets the box on the coffee table. Inside holds an olive green harness, treats, and a card. Calum laughs as Duke presses his snout against the bag of treats. “Alright, alright. I get it.”

Duke happily munches on one of the chews from the bag and Calum opens the card. A different letter slips out into his lap. He can see the ink and lettering pressing through to the other side. His heart hammers, but he forces himself to turn back to the card. “Dear Duke,” Calum pauses to see if Duke responds but his investigation continues on the treat. “I mean, fair enough.” Calum continues to read the card written by Freya, “Even though only the universe knows your true birthday, this card, harness, and bag of treats is meant to mark you sticking it out with your pops for yet another year. To spare you the grumps about a very cute hawaiin shirt I, instead, got a badass harness. Now you’ll be the coolest guy on the block. Happy Birthday/Adoption Day. With Love, Fre.”

Duke, done with the treat, looks to Calum and settles next in front of his folded legs. “Oh, so much work eating a treat.”

But Calum reaches down to gently pats at his tummy. The front of the car is cute, Calum finally recognizes. A cartoon white dog is drawn on it with large pink glasses against a yellow background. There’s no telling where she found it at. Calum looks down to the handwritten letter on printer paper. What would Freya possibly have to say?

Calum hadn’t had the guts to press send on any of the texts he drafted in the three months since they last talked. He wasn’t sure if he could. He is sure that if Freya hadn’t wanted anything to do with him, she would’ve said so, and she wouln’t have sent this box for Duke. His fingers tremble as he unfolds the letter.

Calum,

I figured you heard me tell Duke he was going to get a gift. And I knew I couldn’t not deliver on my promise to him. But I do apologize if it crosses any line. Please let me know too--if it crossed any boundaries.

I hope you’re well. Congrats on the latest album too.

With Love,

Freya.

P.S. I saw you a couple times drafting a text to me but never seeing one go through. And if you’re asking why I hadn’t sent a text either, know it was fear too. And me not being sure if keeping it open like that between us would only do more harm than good. So I’m sorry. But I am here, in the sense that to the best of my capacities, I can try to be here.

*****

Her bag’s slipping off her shoulders but she finally gets the key into the lock and gets her front door open. She sighs as she falls into the ugly blue apartment door and all but flings herself into her place. The stack of mail in her hands barely makes it to the edge of the kitchen counter too. It was just one of those days and Freya couldn’t be mad at herself. Everyone had days like this.

Putting her keys up and getting her backpack next to the couch, she settles into the stools at the kitchen counter to sort through the mail. One’s a bill from the dentist she visited a few weeks back. The one thing her student health insurance didn’t cover. But she couldn’t complain.

There are few junk flyers that she immediately tosses. And it’s her name scrawled in a almost all caps that catches her eyes before she even gets finished with the rest of the pile. In the top corner for the return address she catches the name: Calum Hood + Duke

“Mail from Duke, what a surprise.”

But the real surprise is Calum’s name. It’s just a plain white envelope with a stamp and the city mark it was mailed from. Freya pops it open and sees a sheet of legal pad paper folded up.

Freya,

Thank you for Duke’s gift. The chews are a hit. The harness is much appreciated for our walks. Though, I think they’re more like walks for me. And Duke gets a little exercise in before he tuckers out. But I don’t fault him. No lines were crossed. So no need to worry about that.

I think I like the idea of mailing letters more than I do like texting. But I understand. Doing the hard thing sucks. It always has and always will. Do what you need to for yourself.

Thank you. I wouldn’t normally do this. But there’s a couple songs--they’re about you. I wanted to give you a warning before you listen to it. If you listen to it, I guess I should say.

Best of luck with your last year of school. You’ll have that Master’s in no time and then maybe soon you can take over the Library of Congress like all your evil plans have laid out. (I know, I know. Not what your Library Studies degree does. But I still think you should.)

With Love,

Cal

Freya chuckles at the Library of Congress comment. She picks up her phone and finds Calum’s thread. It’s easy to want to tell him that she can’t take over the Library of Congress and that she’s glad the treats went over well and that the harness was really more of an accessory to make sure Duke looks like a badass.

But she knows--she knows the ease got her into a pickle before. It’s why she stopped things before they got more serious. But was fear going to always predict what she was going to do in her life? Maybe the ease of things was a sign to continue. But if what if things got too far? WOuld be able to handle Calum being gone? Would she inevitably get her heart broken? And sure no amount of contemplation can predict things like this, but she did want to play with that risk no matter how fucking easy it was in the moment.

With a frustrated sigh, Freya drops her face into the forearms. Her phone is still in her grip with the movement. “It’s never fucking easy is it!” she shouts into her apartment.

There’s silence that engulfs her and then her phone chimes. She doesn’t halfway pay attention to it but her phone almost never makes a sound because she keeps it on vibrate. “Who knows what I’ve done now?” she mutters but doesn’t look. Whatever it was she should explain it away for sure. “Why wasn’t there a guarantee money back or some shit with love? It would make life a hell of lot easier for fuck sake. I mean the reward was a lot bigger if I did decide to date Calum. But the fucking risk. Where’s a genie or some fortune teller when you needed it?”

With the frustration dissipating with every shout, she finally lifts her hand and looks to see what caused the noise. Her fingers slip across the screen and she watches a message lift up before settling down with the delivered underneath it. “Whoops,” she mutters. And starts drafting a message in response. Sorry, didn’t mean to send that. Was just venting and must’ve hit something in my blind rage.

She sets the phone down without another thought and then goes back to sorting out her mail, though she glances down at the yellow page that Calum wrote his letter. She’d all her best friend in a bit to talk it out with them. A buzz sound--no doubt some sort of alert. She listens for how many buzzes. A text coming through.

Turning over her phone, Freya reads who the text is from. The name barely registers before her heart goes into a frenzy. Calum--New iMessage. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, why is he texting me?”

A warranty on love is definitely a new concept. I assume you got my letter. You made it clear that you still weren’t sure where the boundaries were, I just wanted to say thanks. Or Duke did, I should say. You said you cherished our honesty and I’m going to be honest. I wrote a lot of different letters before sending the one I did. I’ve drafted a text to you nearly every day but never sent it because I didn’t want to put you in a predicament. But maybe we’re both at a point where maybe the risk might not be all that bad.

Freya exhales reading the text. How do you feel about splitting a pizza at my place tonight?

The message lifts and then settles again. The moments stretch for minutes. The bubble pops up and she watches the dots cycle from light to dark gray. I would love to.

Her hands shake and for a moment she wishes she hadn’t quit cigarettes. They weren’t good for her and she knows that. But god, right now with the shakes, she needs something to bring her down from the edge. The picks at her pinkie nail, leg bouncing. A knock at the door sounds and Freya freezes. The pizza’s already delivered, arrived maybe two or three minutes before this knock.

Another moment, maybe two passes, and then another knock sounds. She pushes up from the couch and heads to the door.

“Hi,” Calum exhales.

“Hi,” Freya returns. “Oh, come-come in.” She steps aside and waves Calum further inside.

As he steps through, he turns, keeping his back away from her. The door closes and he unveils a tiny pot, a greenish-purple plant staring back up at Freya. “I know you’re sensitive to flowering plants--like sunflowers or carnations. So I went to a local nursery, one that my gardeners recommended and one of the workers recommended succulents. They told me the name and I have absolutely no memory of what it is. Echev-I don’t know.”

Freya steps closer, gingerly taking the terracotta pot from him. It sits in the palm of her hand. “Echeveria. I think this one is a Black Prince.”

“Yeah, yeah, that.”

“Thank you.” It falls from her lips in a whisper. “Really, I mean it. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“It shall live,” she says after a big exhale, “right here on the kitchen window sill.”

Calum grins a little watching her open the blinds to set the plant in. “How-how have you been?” He knows he came under the guise of pizza. But that’s not even close to the truth. So he closes the distance between them, crossing the kitchen. One hand settles on her hip.

Freya turns in the inch or two she has. His gaze is sincere but hesitant. Like there’s more he wants to say, but not sure if he can say it right now. His cheek is a little stubbly when she touches it, settles her palm into the warmth and squish of his face. She hadn’t expected seeing him in person would stir her gut like this. Maybe it’s because she was only giving excuses. Good ones, but still excuses. “Tell me something.”

“Anything.”

“When I asked you about what you say in your home 10 years into the future and you said wife, did you see me?”

It doesn’t shock him that she sussed it out. That even with his vague include of the term, Freya would still see between the lines. “Honestly?”

“I’m making you an honest man.”

“Yes.” He closes his eyes for a moment. Not out of shame or some need to hide from the truth. But to steel himself. “When I said wife, I pictured you. And two kids--who in my imagination definitely had your hair texture and that scared me.”

“Scared you?” Freya asks.

“I barely can do my own curls. Two daughters with your texture would feel like jumping into the deep end without a floaty.”

“But you, theoretically, wouldn’t have been in the deep end alone. Me, my hairstylist, my mom, and stepmom--a lot of Black women to teach you a thing or two. But specifically two daughters, huh?”

Calum nods, his second hand sliding up onto her right hip. He holds her waist and she holds onto his cheeks ever so gently. He smiles at her. “That’s not to say I didn’t ask to try for a son as a third. Now you tell me something.”

“Scouts honor.”

“Can you really give into the risk? If you can’t, I will walk out of here right now and I won’t bother you again. Because above everything, I want what’s best for you. As much as it’ll hurt not have you again, we can’t keep going back and forth. It’s not good for either one of us.”

Freya knows he’s right. Would she regret giving Calum up a second time? Was the universe trying to give her the ever elusive second chance? Getting into a defined relationship with Calum meant she would have to figure out what to do after graduation and if had to leave would he be able to handle that? Was the chance of heartbreak worth the moments of bliss?

“I want my PhD--and I don’t know where that’s going to take me. I might be leaving California and that would be years, Calum. Years of me in a different state. And I don’t know, California doesn't feel like the end game for me. And that could just be the now talking. Who knows? But a lot is in motion and uncertain right now, does that change how you feel? Because maybe--maybe I can take the risk for a few moments of bliss.”

Calum’s knees almost give up on him, but he squeezes her to keep himself steady. “When I said I wanted as much of you as I could have before you left, I meant it. I absolutely meant every word of it. I meant I would take days, hours, decades if I could with you.The last time I even thought about daydreaming about a girl was so fucking long ago. And when you asked me about my future, it shocked even me to see you. That’s when I knew. I knew I was a fucking goner.”

“But I don’t know if I can give all that to you.”

“I’ll take what I can get it, Freya. And I am sure that in the future one of two things is going to happen: it will either hurt like hell when you leave or we get more time. I don’t know how much more. But I do know that those are the two options. And I will gladly embrace whichever one of them comes our way.”

Freya doesn't miss the inclusion of the plural. “Our way,” she teases with a grin, stretching up just a little. “Our way, huh?”

“Yes, our way.” Calum watches just how close she gets before she pauses. Her breath tickles over his skin. “Now, either we’re kissing and then eating pizza, or we’re kissing and then--”

Freya’s lip sealing around his cuts off the sentence. They exhale into each other, Calum pressing in closer and pinning her to the edge of the counter. Freya slides up against his chest just a hair, hands sliding up and then tying her arms around his neck. As they part, Calum rests his forehead against hers. “What’s tomorrow?”

“Thursday. Why do you ask?”

“Because I wanted to gauge if I could keep you up until 3 AM again,” Calum giggles. “But not about a competition this time. Like possibly pissing off your neighbors.”

“But I have the 8 am shift at the office.”

“And homework that you’d kill me for keeping you from.”

“Not quite murder, but there is a paper I have about 5 pages left on and should submit because it is like a third of my grade.”

“But Friday night?”

“I’m free--I traded a Monday evening shift earlier this week to get Friday off.”

Calum kisses her, soft and slow. It makes his whole body electric, to feel her relax into his touch. “Friday night then.”

“Before a night of debauchery, do you think we should talk? What happens if it’s too much or not working?” Freya doesn’t want to be the barrier of bad news. But she does like having a plan, a clear path to follow.

Calum’s not way to think too hard about things, to worry about things until they come up. But he knows Freya’s not like him. Clearing his throat, Calum holds up his pinkie. “This a pinkie swear that on Friday when you come over to my place for a night of debauchery, we will talk all about contingency plans.”

“You make it sound--”

“No, I know. You want the air clear and you want it clear sooner rather than later. And though, I normally am very much against a lot of the feelings talk. But for fuck sake, I already admitted that I thought about marrying you, so I don’t think now is the moment to shy away from it.”

“When you put it like that.”

“Yeah, exactly.”

Freya hooks her pinkie around his. “But it is Wednesday. So, pizza and then if you want to stay after you can, I’ll just be working on that paper.”

“If you don’t mind the company, I would love to stay.”

“I don’t mind at all.”

[waywardnewcomer]

Wasted Opportunities

A/N: This is my first actual character fic so I hope you enjoy, also thank you for all the love on Reunited. You don’t understand how happy it makes me and how much it makes my heart swell. This is a little AU fic for yesterday’s episode.

Summary: Dean finds their dead sister in apocalypse world.

Warnings: A bit of swearing, angst, fluff, character death, Spoilers for 13x18 - like some of it actually comes from the script 

Pairings: Dean x Sister!Reader, Sam x Sister!Reader

Word Count: 1.6K

Masterlist

Dean shook his head after they’d arrived through the rift. He looked over at Ketch and chuckled as he looked around in awe.

“Well, here we are.” He spoke as the thunder rumbled in the distance.

“You do know where we are, don’t you? We only have 24 hours before,”

“Yeah, yeah. Give me a minute. We just got spin-cycled through space and time, okay? And yes, this is different than my last drop by. I thought you wanted to save yourself?” Dean sighed angrily, trying to get his bearings.

“I thought I could help.” Ketch spoke.

“What?” Dean asked gritting his teeth.

“To find the boy.” He spoke. “And your mother. She’s in danger, I owe her that.” He added like an afterthought.

“You know if she sees you she’ll probably kill you, again.” Dean sighed, pursing his lips.

“Perhaps, but you don’t know what’s out there. Would back up be so bad?”

“If you’re the back up then yes.” Dean snapped.

They were interrupted with a loud bang and a flutter of wings.

“Get down.” Dean grumbled, shoving Ketch behind a tree and crouching next to him.

They sat listening to the angels talk, ripping off their hoods one by one and the angel’s killing them. When they took off the last hood Dean immediately stood up, gun cocked, and breath hitched.

“Dean get down.” Ketch whisper-yelled, pulling on his arms.

“No way. That’s my sister.” Dean mumbled in awe, coming out of his hiding place and waiting for the perfect shot.

You looked up at the angel before you and closed your eyes ready for the blinding light, and your inevitable death.

“Wait.” An angel behind him said, holding his arm. “She knows where they are, her mother and the Nephilim. She’ll be useful.”

“Very well.” He muttered. “Take her to be tortured.”

“You’re not taking her anywhere.” Deans rough voice shouted as he shot the angels holding you.

You looked behind you at the older man and ran to safety behind him.

“And who are you?” The angel asked moving closer.

“Her brother, jackass.” He grumbled shooting him, with Ketch shooting the other angels.

“You’re not my brother?” You asked the strange man confused after you let out a sigh of relief. “Who are you?” You wrestled the man, taking his gun and holding it up to his face.

“Y/N, I promise I’m your brother. Well I was, in another world. You died.” He mumbled sadly, with his hands in the air.

“My Mom and Dad didn’t have any other kids. Just me.” You narrowed your eyes and cocked the gun.

“Your mother is Mary Winchester; your father is John Winchester. Your Mom is good friends with Bobby Singer and he is leading the resistance. Your Mom came back from another world a few weeks ago with a Nephilim, Jack.” Ketch spoke trying to get you to lower the gun.

“I’m Dean Winchester. I come from a different universe, one where there isn’t a freaking apocalypse because me and Sammy are there to stop it. You used to be too.” Dean spoke gritting his teeth, it hurt so much to look at his sister and her not recognise him whatsoever.

“Why should I believe you?” You adjusted your grip on the gun and raised your eyebrows.

“Well other than me just saving your life, the rift is right there.” Dean pointed over to the glowing orange rift, making your eyes go as wide as saucers.

You lowered the gun slowly and looking to the mans piercing green eyes. You moved closer to him and traced his jawline with your finger. Hmmm… he kinda looked like you, he had your Dad’s jawline at least.

“Okay fine. What do you mean I used to be there?” You asked suspiciously, handing him back his gun.

“You, erm.” He spoke, looking down and rubbing the back of his neck. “You died Y/N. You died in my arms, a vampire drank you dry during a hunt. It was my fault you shouted at me to come help but I went to help Sammy instead.”

“Sammy you take the back, I’ll take the front with Y/N.” Dean spoke looking at his siblings for confirmation.

Once they had nodded their heads and gotten into position, Dean counted to 3 and kicked the front door down. You followed behind him, machete in your hand and cautiously looking around.

“Look out!” You shouted at Dean as a vamp came swinging from above him.

You took out all the surrounding vampires as it turned into a full out war. Sam and Dean were fighting with alpha vampire when you doubled over to catch your breath.

“A Winchester.” The vampire behind you snarled.

You kicked behind you to send the vampire flying backwards before turning around to land in a few good punches until the vamp held you up by your throat.

“Sam! Dean! A little help here!” You choked out looking over at Dean helping Sam kill the alpha.

“A little busy Y/N.” Dean shouted back.

You managed to flip it back around and wrestle with the vampire once more until you felt teeth sinking into your back. You screamed in agony, the blood draining out of your body. The vampire in front of you sunk their teeth into your neck, draining more of your blood making your legs crumble beneath you.

“Y/N!” You heard Sam scream once they’d killed the alpha.

“Oh shit.” Dean grunted angrily, he killed the last two vampires with one swipe of his machete and slid down beside your lifeless body.

“Oh god.” Sam choked back the tears.

“It’s okay. I’ll b- be with Mo-om.” You choked out blood, the tears dripping down your cheeks.

“I’m so sorry Y/N.” Dean whispered, kissing your forehead. He sat beside your body, allowing the tears to weep out of his eyes as he sat and held you as you took your last breath. His body racked with sobs as he held his little sister close. He swiped your eyelids closed with his hands and whispered; “It’s all my fault.”

“Oh.” You muttered looking down. “Well I guess I forgive you?”

“I don’t want you to.” Dean muttered. “It was my fault, I need to live with that.”

You looked over at your brother sadly. You may not have known him for longer than an hour, but you hated to see him hurt. Maybe your other universe self and you had some of the same thoughts and feelings.

You showed Dean and Ketch one of the bases for the angels and helped them take it down, showing them the place your Mom had been last. You had been separated from them for a while, due to you being on a mission to bring down the angel base in the North East corner. Bobby had planned to meet you in two days’ time in your secret spot in the North West. You walked Dean back to his rift answering all his questions about your Mom and Jack.

“Y/N I want you to come back with me.” Dean sighed, looking at how thin the rift had become.

“I can’t I’m meeting Bobby in two days.” You explained.

“Y/N, I want to keep you safe this time. I don’t want to be responsible for your death again.” Dean walked over to you, holding both of your arms.

“Dean. This is my world, this is my fault. You’re the saviour in your world, right? I’m the one here and I can’t leave them alone.” You smiled giving your brother a quick hug. “I promise, once the resistance beats Michael, I’ll come back with you, wherever you want. But for now, I need to stay here.”

“I can’t just leave you here.” Dean grunted angrily.

“I’ll stay.” Ketch spoke up.

“What?”

“I’ll stay, protect her until she can get to Bobby, and help fight until you can get back to this world with your brother and your angel.” Ketch spoke sincerely.

“I don’t trust you.” Dean narrowed his eyes.

“If he tries anything, I’ll shoot him.” You stated.

Dean looked into your eyes knowing you would protect yourself at all costs. He sighed deeply and gave you a quick kiss on the forehead, comforting him but making you feel a bit weird and loved? It was a new feeling for you. Dean looked at you one last time before he had to go through the rift to escape the incoming angels.

“Dean? Where’s Mom? Where’s Jack?” Sam asked as soon as his brother returned through the rift.

“Dean are you okay?” Cas asked, noticing his hunched exterior and the tears lacing his eyes.

“I saw Y/N.”

“What do you mean?” Sam asked confused.

“Y/N’s alive in apocalypse world.” Dean spoke looking at his brother.

“Fuck!” Sam shouted flinging the paper off the library table in rage.

“What did I miss?” Dean asked looking between his brother and the angel.

“Gabriel left.” Cas explained.

“What do you mean he left?” Dean asked angrily.

“We asked him to help and he said no.” Sam gritted his teeth.

“He doesn’t get to say no! We still have his grace, though, right?” Dean asked as Sam and Cas looked at each other awkwardly. “Sam?”

“We uh – we used his grace to heal him.” Sam muttered angry at himself.

“So it – it’s gone? It’s all gone.” Deans voice rose higher with anger. “So if it’s gone then that means that we can’t open that door again. If we can't open the door, then I should've never come back! Son of a bitch!” Dean slammed his hand down on the table and swiped the rest of the books off the table. Cas and Sam looked at him, hating the fact he was hurting, and it was their fault.

“Every time! Every time we get close, it always falls apart. Every fucking time.”

Part Two 

Forever Tags (tagging people who have asked and people who I think would enjoy this fic, let me know if you want adding or removing) @creativedogs  @a-magey  @natashacamillaus  @not-jk-rowling  @captainsherlockwinchester110283  @sleepylunarwolf @claitynroberts @bellero @winchesters-favorite-girl

[parallel5ths]

Buffy paper!

I had to write a paper for my English class and wrote this in about 12 hours. It's definitely a little haywire, but a good starting point for expanding on the universe. 

Buffy the Vampire Slayer has become a cult classic since it’s premier in 1997. After it’s unsuccessful predecessor by the same moniker, no one would have imagined it would explode to the icon it is today. Buffy Summers, introduced as a high school sophomore, has a destiny and that is to be the Vampire Slayer. Each generation, there is only one Slayer who is chosen in her teenage years. Buffy’s path from high schooler to adult is an obvious one in age, but less obvious in other ways. This series is widely appreciated for its exemplars on serious issues such as depression, addiction, and death. Through these outlined examples, the mystical are used to illustrate the complex problems faced by ordinary people throughout their lives creating a series that is entertaining, serious, and relatable.

Buffy seamlessly interweaved the real world with the mystical to find a unique way to tell a story. This gave it a unique following due to the numerous subjects it tackled. “Buffy used the monsters that crossed into the human world through the Hellmouth as a metaphor for the horrors of high school, which in turn were a metaphor for the horrors of life in general” (Genzlinger 2017). Season Five is a great example of this. This season finds a way to weave interpersonal family dynamics with an otherwise outrageous storyline. While Buffy navigates a romantic relationship as well as being a big sister to a whiny teenager, she also must find balance in her role as the Slayer. One moment of distraction is all that is needed for someone to get the upper hand, a point which she is very familiar with after her brief death in the first season. As if all of that wasn’t enough, her mother then falls ill. Buffy had been surrounded by the reality of death for years now, but there is something vulnerable about it being your mother.

In a show usually filled with comedy to offset the seriousness, the episodes about Joyce Summers had a very different feel to them. The music is either very quiet or completely absent, only making the backdrop starker. In the hospital scene where it is revealed Joyce has a brain tumor, we are met with a close-up of Buffy’s face as the color drains and the sound falls away. Dr. Michael Bryant, who uses this scene in his medical classes comments “Patients’ minds often fixate onto the most serious condition possible, once told they have a brain tumour. Any other words become white noise and static, and float past on empty currents of dead air.” This portrayal of that heartbeat in your head feeling when confronted with news you cannot comprehend is relatable.

Episodes pass, and we are lulled into a false sense of security. Up to this point, we have lost characters but none this close to the main group. As I Was Made to Love You ends, you see Buffy arrive home, putting her jacket down and calling for her mom as the audience sees a blurry background behind. She turns, pulling this into focus as we see Joyce laying lifeless on the couch. Buffy calls her again, hoping for her to wake but the reality starts setting in. Her voice softening, she says “Mommy?”, a departure from the “mom” directly before as the screen cuts to black. Amidst the monsters and boogeymen of Sunnydale, they found the monsters we really face every day.

Throughout the season, Buffy is seen becoming unsure of her roles as parent, sister, and Slayer as they start to conflict. The episode Intervention begins to show Buffy’s depression and detachment forming. Buffy goes on a vision quest to find answers about her role while the Buffybot fools the rest of the Scooby Gang into thinking she’s the real deal. This is the first stark difference between the Buffy from season one and who she has become now. “The relentlessly cheery Buffybot functions as an idealized version of the Slayer, restoring something of the human Buffy’s youthful chirpiness and being used as an emotional substitute by Dawn who actually lies down on the bed next to her as if she were the real thing” (James 147). With a few exceptions, the Buffybot is able to take Buffy’s place in all roles of her life while also being more likable to her friends and family.  Buffy’s resurrection at the beginning of the penultimate season is the final nail in the coffin before Buffy’s depression is shown in the foreground.

At the end of After Life, the audience gets the moment they have been waiting for. Buffy has her heart-to-heart with Dawn, thanks her friends for saving her from a hell dimension and there’s a group hug. She walks out the back door into the sun which is almost too bright, a reference to Buffy’s time in the afterlife. The speech that follows is one any Buffy fan will remember vividly. After Buffy’s sacrifice to save her family and the world, she was rewarded with Heaven. She was finally happy, loved and at peace. She was ripped away from perfection by the people in her life who love her most and they can never know. Knowing what she lost was already weighing on her as she mentions how everything on Earth is “hard and bright and violent” (“After Life” (41:42-41:47). As the tragic hero figure she is, the episode ends with her emphasizing that no one can know what she has shared.

Through the next few episodes, we see Buffy once again struggle with where she fits in. Buffy’s “rebirth” symbolizes her official birth in adulthood in many ways. The rest of the Scooby Gang has established their lives while she was gone. Everyone is in committed relationships, they have jobs or are in school and she is just the Slayer. Her new “enemies” in this season even comment that she is unfocused while jumping job to job. She is stuck in two roles she didn’t choose, despite the name “Chosen One”. It’s at this point she starts spending more time with Spike, the only one who seems to see her pain and understand how she feels. He understands more about the supernatural side of her that no one else can relate to. In Once More with Feeling, the musical episode, there is no disguising Buffy’s pain. Through the various songs she features in, she describes going through the motions and being unable to feel anything. Buffy’s secret is laid bare to the rest of the gang, forced to reveal she was in Heaven. Finally, she tells Sweets, the demon orchestrating these catchy numbers, to “give me something to sing about. Please, give me something” (43:48-44:00). Her depression has progressed to the point where she doesn’t feel like she has anything left. She immediately starts dancing, eventually spinning in circles progressively faster until she appears to start burning. An assisted suicide attempt in front of everyone she loves. Yet, Spike is the one who jumps in to save her, from the fires of Hell it seems, by telling her she has to keep on living. The episode ends on Buffy “getting the fire back” and kissing Spike, the beginning to a complex relationship between Buffy’s human and supernatural side.

Although the rest of the season primarily focuses on Willow and her addiction to magic, Buffy is still fighting her battles throughout. She takes a minimum wage food service job to make money since she is now the sole provider and has no qualifications she could put on a resume. Dawn starts acting out by stealing and sneaking out with boys, a cry for help and attention. Buffy is drowning too deep in all her own roles conflicting while also battling the lack of desire to do so to notice what is happening. In rapid fire, Buffy finds out about Dawn stealing, her ex-boyfriend shows up with a wife and Xander abandons Anya at the altar. Everything is completely in flux, but it is always her responsibility to hold everyone and everything together.

With Buffy as her most confused and detached, her best friend needs her the absolute most. Once again, things start getting back to normal when Tara is suddenly shot and killed. With Buffy also in critical condition, Willow no longer has the desire or ability to hold back her rage. From the beginning of the show, Buffy has many moments of powerlessness, but this time is different. Willow is stronger, faster and has nothing left to live for. This is also the ultimate betrayal to Buffy. Willow was her first friend when she came to Sunnydale and has been there through everything. Not only has Willow killed a human but has tried to kill Buffy’s sister and father figure. In Willow’s effort to kill her pain by giving further into her magic addiction by literally absorbing it from Giles, she can feel everyone’s emotions at once. A throwback to the third season when Buffy hears everyone’s thoughts after she’s infected by demon blood, we see how differently they deal with their depression.

As the season starts to come to an end, Buffy and Willow’s storylines diverge. Having handled their problems differently, it makes sense their paths parted, and they end them separately. Buffy and Dawn become trapped together in the Earth by Willow’s hand, in a similar way that she was forced to dig her way out earlier. The Summers sisters are forced to finally face each other and talk. Buffy comes to terms with the fact that Dawn is also becoming an adult like she did and shielding her isn’t the same as protecting her. Willow’s solution to the pain in the world, hers included, is to end the world. A departure from previous seasons, Willow cannot be defeated by magic or strength. Xander, the final piece of the trio and Willow’s friend from childhood, talks to her and reminds her of who she is. As Dawn and Buffy fight a parade of demons off side by side, Xander refuses to leave Willow’s side. Despite the threat of death and being pushed away, he continues to tell her he loves her after each lashing. Her power fades as she starts to feel again, crumbling to tears as the weight of all the pain and loss hits her. “When Willow took the power from Giles, she exulted in feeling ‘connected to everything’. But that connection was false, and it led Willow to try to end the world. Buffy found the true connection in her inner humanity” (Field 540). When the scene switches to Buffy, she breaks down in happy tears, happy she has time to fix everything she has neglected. Standing with her as they were both faced with death opened her eyes to how much she had been ignoring.

Although many viewers were understandably upset with the finale, it was important to the overall arc of Buffy Summers’ growth. As opposed to their usual triumphant ending where they beat the bad guy, their denial, pain, and grief were killing them instead. At some point, these feelings needed to explode in order to resolve. From these examples, we see two women who have gone down the same path but react differently to it. Having flawed characters who fight their demons, physically and metaphorically, in an unperfect way is important for young people and older alike. Showing vulnerability in a female character while also keeping her strong is a tough feat few writers have achieved. Buffy the Vampire Slayer does it time and time again. It is no surprise to the fanbase that there is a new show coming out. Into every generation, a Slayer is born, and this generation needs one to look up to too.